Love and the Exorcism by Melanie Hansen

Author:Melanie Hansen [Hansen, Melanie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: gay romance
ISBN: 978-1-63477-043-9
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Published: 2016-02-11T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 2

“I’M SO glad to meet you, Mario,” Tom’s grandfather said, lifting his glass of sparkling cider in Mario’s direction. “Janice has been telling us how happy you two are.”

Tom blushed. “I am happy,” he said. “I’m very lucky.” Mario’s eyes were warm as they held Tom’s, and Tom quivered when he felt Mario’s foot stroking his calf.

“That went well,” Mario murmured, reaching out and threading his fingers through Tom’s as they drove toward home a short while later. “It was a great way to spend our first Thanksgiving together. I like your family.”

Tom squeezed his fingers, then ventured, “Janice is going up to her in-laws’, but we could spend Christmas with your family if you wanted.”

Mario shook his head. “Tom, I don’t need you to meet my family. I’ve told you before, it’s not fucking worth it. They’re lushes and have been ever since I can remember, even when I was little.”

Tom looked down at their joined hands, feeling a little wistful. His own parents had died in a car accident, killed by a drunk driver on New Year’s Eve, when Tom was a baby. He and Janice were taken in by their elderly great-aunt, and it had been a good, loving, and secure childhood, but even so, he still felt that little nagging hole in his life every now and then from growing up without a mom and dad.

“What is it, Tom?” Mario asked, and Tom realized he had tensed, his fingers tightening on Mario’s.

He shrugged. “Well, it’s just that your parents are—well, they’re alive, Mario. They have to be so proud of you, owning your own business, your own home, all you’ve accomplished—”

Mario rubbed his thumb over the back of Tom’s hand. “You don’t get it, Tommy,” he said quietly. “My parents aren’t capable of being proud. They’re so pickled in alcohol, I doubt they remember I exist half the time.”

“Were they abusive?”

Mario shook his head. “No. Well, not physically. They were just neglectful, not caring about much of anything except the next bottle of booze. My mom cleaned houses to keep them in whiskey.”

“And your dad?”

“Cashed checks,” Mario said, his voice terse. “Disability, workers’ comp. Injured his neck a long time ago. I don’t want much to do with them, Tom.”

“Even if it’s only once a year, for only a little while? I—it’s your parents, and it’s Christmas. That’s all.”

Mario didn’t answer, and they rode home the rest of the way in silence, both lost in thought.

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