Work Text:
October 18th, 2012, Thursday 11 PM
Surprised Jason with a lunch date today.
He was distracted and anxious the whole time. Barely listened to me as we made small talk, and fidgeted with his wallet chain like it was tethering him to reality. He's aware he's on edge, at least, and he promised me he's already reached out to disability services, which made me proud. When his father got bad grades, he just paid underclassmen to do his homework for him; Jason, as always, took the honorable route instead.
I still haven't figured out how to broach the subject of his orientation.
I knew he was gay when he was eleven and he had his first crush on an older boy in his choir section. I've seen the way he and Piper relaxed around each other, and bloomed without the pressure of expected romance into a friendship deeper than my marriage. My dear, sweet little boy pines in silent resignation; it took years before Percy picked up on how deeply Jason's feelings for him ran.
I told Jason today that I like P— that I wasn't sure about him at first, but he's grown on me, especially in how supportive he is of my son. I don't think Jason understood what I was trying to say. I think he still thinks I don't know, which is why I haven't brought it up directly. He has to be ready.
It's exhausting, waiting. Part of me is resentful that he still doesn't trust me after all this time. Have I not loved him unconditionally from the moment I held him for the first time, when he looked up at me with sleepy newborn eyes and grasped at my blouse as his mother put him in my arms?
I don't know why Beryl let me hold him. Maybe she was trying to humanize herself in some way. Reach out to me. Or maybe she just wanted to rub it in.
I wonder if Jason doesn't want to burden me with his orientation. He used to hide being bullied at school for the same reason. I've been thinking about what to do about this since he brought LV to Disney with us in freshman year; it's getting less difficult all the time to be a gay athlete, and things are already better now than they were then.
I want to plead with him to open up to me like he used to. If I push, I'll just push him away. He gets farther away from me every moment; today, with his beard coming in and that coldness in his eyes, he looked more like Rex than he has in a long, long time.
I wonder if R knows. I wonder if he would care if he did. Sometimes I check on his old PA, that college kid he used to bend over his desk; the same one who took off his suit jacket so he could play toy cars with Jason after we gathered evidence of B's neglect. Grayson seems to be doing well, but I suppose I would be the last person to know if he weren't.
I don't want Jason to be preyed on by someone like my husband.
I stared at that sentence for a full eight minutes after writing it. I'm horrified at myself for thinking it. I can't bring myself to strike it out.
I suppose it's a good thing R never cared to learn to read script.