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Dennis breaks the news when everybody is seated in the middle of breakfast. He’s been saving it for a few days now. His dad had been a few states over on business until this morning, and he didn’t want to repeat himself over and over to each member of his family. He takes a bite of his cereal, swallows, and says, “I have a boyfriend now.”
Dee nearly chokes on her milk. Their mom, who is poised and calm as a side effect of whatever she’s on that morning, sips her breakfast cocktail thoughtfully. “Hm. I always thought Deandra would be the gay one.”
“Hey,” Dee whines, crossing her arms over her chest and wincing. She already has her back brace on. Dennis has half a mind to protest himself, because he isn’t gay. He has a pointed interest in girls. He just happens to like this boy too. Instead he keeps his mouth shut; he won’t bother trying to make his family understand. For a liberal bunch they could be pretty narrow-minded.
Dad finishes his coffee. He looks at Dennis with a raised eyebrow. “Use protection,” is all he says after a long silence, and then the phone rings. He excuses himself and leaves to answer it. Most of their calls are for him. Dennis sometimes thinks that Frank is an alright dad, despite all his shortcomings. This is not one of those times.
Dee seems to have gotten over her indignation and she leans over, smirking at Dennis like she’s better than him. Yeah, as if. He does his best to glare but it’s hard to look intimidating while eating cereal. “Do I know him?”
“I think so. You know Mac?” he asks, in between spoonfuls of cocoa puffs.
“Oh my god,” she says, “you’re dating Ronnie the Rat?” She almost chokes again. What a loser, Dennis thinks, and resolves not to be seen with her after they get off the bus.
“Sounds like a good boy.” Mom has chimed in in that dreamy sort of voice that tells Dennis she’s not all there with them. He shakes his head yes.
Dee snorts. “Dennis only likes him ‘cause he scores free weed off him. This is a new low for you, taking advantage of some poor kid.”
Gripping his spoon a little tighter, Dennis straightens out his back and sits up from where he was hunched over the table. “You don’t know the half of it, Dee. He’s nice to me. And I like him. And,” he adds, pausing to finish off the last part of his balanced breakfast, “his name is Mac.”
“Whatever. You’re both losers, anyways.”
“Be nice to your brother, Deandra.”
Feeling pleased with himself, Dennis asks to be excused. Mom waves him away gracefully. He gathers up all of his dishes and dumps them in the sink, thinking about Mac, and kissing him, and holding his hand between classes and at lunch and maybe even on the bus back home. He’s smiling by the time he’s out the door.