Later in the evening, they all sat down around the dining table with a plethora of food evenly divided around the table. His mom and grandmother, with the help of him and Riley, of course, had been cooking all day to get all of the food done in time for the traditional meal.
"I have been waiting all day-" his grandfather started, earning a short laugh from his mom.
"I think we've all been waiting for this since we didn't eat any lunch," she remarked, passing the mashed potatoes over the Riley.
"No, I mean- yes, but that wasn't what I was aiming for. As I was saying, Dylan, I have been saving this question all day but now we have to know where you have decided to go to college. Have you looked at the South Carolina colleges? To get closer to your old grandpops and grammy?"
Dylan cringed inward. "Uh, I- have looked at a lot of colleges, really."
"Yeah, but which do you really want?"
"That's actually one in Florida..." he waited for the inevitable negative comments but to his surprise, there were none.
"Oh, but that is closer! Not as close as we'd hoped but we'll take what we can get," his grandmother exclaimed after a moment of silence. "We'll be visiting every weekend to make sure you don't do anything you shouldn't."
"She's joking," his grandfather laughed, probably because he caught Dylan's panicked expression. "As long as you don't go and become Jewish."
There was a tense silence from Dylan but neither his grandparents nor his mom for that matter seemed to notice and laughed it off.
"Anyway, let's pray before we eat."
Riley met Dylan's eyes, shooting him a subtle eye roll to which he nodded. They never prayed before food, that was just something tedious that got them to wait longer to eat. Nevertheless, he took a hold of both the hands that were extended to him and he closed his eyes.
Did he pray, though? No. He thought about what Chris was doing. It was kind of sad that he was celebrating Christmas alone, but he couldn't exactly invite him over. Especially now that his grandparents were over. At least he was going over there in just a few days. There was a New Year's Eve party that they'd been invited to and he kind of wanted to stay at Chris's until then.
"Amen," his mom said and Dylan opened his eyes. "Let's eat!"
For about an hour, they chatted and ate all they could fit, including Dylan. By seven-fifteen he felt as though he was going to burst at the seams if he consumed any more turkey or anything else for that matter. Not even water made it down without making him want to hurl.
"I have something to tell you all," Riley spoke up after a few minutes of munch-filled silence. Dylan's eyes snapped up at his sister, who was already looking at him. He raised a brow and she responded with a- barely noticeable- nod.
Was she going to-? That was a feat of bravery that he didn't have, especially with his mom's parents around as well. The room filled with a tension that made the hair in the back of his neck stand and all eyes turned to his sister.
"What is it, sweetcheeks?" Their grandmother asked but she got no response for a moment. Riley fastened her eyes on their parents.
"I... I like hmms," she mumbled, lowering her head.
"What was that? Speak up we can't hear you," their grandfather snapped playfully.
"I said I like girls," she repeated, her voice loud and steady, "I think I'm gay."
"Nonsense," their grandmother snapped, not at all playfully, "what is this? Some kind of joke?"
"What are you talking about, Riley?" Their mom asked. There was a long silence, the tension only growing in intensity until it was almost suffocating. Riley didn't say anything else.
Dylan looked around the table at all of their faces. Both of his grandparents were looking fuming- especially his grandmother- and his grandfather was aggressively twisting his wedding ring. His dad was staring at Dylan's mom, his wife, with a more shocked expression, or maybe it was calculating. Then came his mom, who was staring at Riley without a word. It didn't look good.
"Riley," his dad said, turning toward the fourteen-year-old, "you should go to your room for a little while."
Riley got up from her seat without a word, her head still lowered. Before she left the room, she met Dylan's eyes and what he found cut him deep. Her eyes were filled with unshed tears. And he felt the same pain she did. Then, she hurried up the stairs and there was a soft slam of her door. The nausea he'd felt a few minutes ago returned, but this time not because of the amount of food that he'd stuffed.
His mom stood from her seat and marched into the kitchen, still not showing what she felt. His dad followed quickly, as well as both of the grandparents. Dylan stayed behind, though. He couldn't muster the energy it would take to move his legs, and even then he wouldn't trust that he'd stay standing if he tried.
The kitchen was close enough for it to be easy for him to hear the conversation and after a brief silence, his mom was the first to speak.
"Where is this coming from?" She hissed. "Who is putting this in her head?"
"Honey, don't you think-"
"I knew that we should have made them go to church," his mom continued.
Now, his grandmother cut in. "They don't go to church regularly? No wonder the Devil has infected her mind. And at that age, you know that He's only got so much power over them then!"
The words made Dylan flinch.
"And Dylan," his grandmother proceeded, "what if she spreads this onto him? You have put us all in danger because you don't take them to worship the Lord."
"Honey," his dad said, his voice being the calmest one of them, "do you really care-"
"What are you saying? You don't care that our daughter is sick?" His mom all but screeched, and despite not wanting it, tears welled up in Dylan's eyes. "How can you say that when the Devil is in her?"
"This is what you get for marrying a dishonest liberal," his grandfather spoke up for the first time. That seemed to set something off in his dad, however, because his voice when he spoke was no longer calm.
"You should leave, you have no business here talking like that about my daughter. And, for your information, you're right. I don't care about who she dates in this case. I don't care whether she likes girls, I care if she's herself. I care if she is happy!"
"You- you God-dishonoring man, we are sending that girl to rehab," his grandmother exclaimed, her voice strained with anger, and that's when Dylan had had enough. He rose from his chair, no longer listening to the sick conversation going on in the other room.
Within seconds, he had gotten to the stairs and was halfway up. Riley was sitting hunched against a wall when he sprang into her room, her head resting on her knees.
"What- what are you doing?" She asked between the hiccups that crying brought as Dylan beelined for her closet and grabbed the empty bookbag that hung there. When he didn't answer, she stood up and hurried over to him. "Dylan!"
"We are leaving," he said, stopping his rapid packing of clothes to look down into her eyes. "Pack the clothes you want." He shoved the bag into her hands a little harder than he had intended but there was no time to lose. From downstairs, the fighting had escalated into straight out yelling and Dylan did his best to tune it all out as he went into his own room and packed a small bag for himself.
He took a short moment to wipe the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand. He needed to be focused and have a good vision to drive. Especially in the snowstorm that was going on outside, which he noticed as he shot a glance out the window. It fit the mood, he thought and grabbed the phone charger from the outlet by his bed.
Riley appeared in the doorway a few seconds later, the makeup that she'd put on for the dinner completely ruined by the tears that were still streaming down her face. A lump settled in Dylan's throat at the sight and he tried to give her a weak smile but he feared it only looked like a grimace.
"What were they saying?" Her voice trembled violently as she asked the question and Dylan shook his head.
"Ry, I... we'll talk in the car, come on," he walked past her, making her back into the hallway, and continued down the stairs and toward the front door. Riley followed close behind him and grabbed her jacket from the hook by the door. In the kitchen, the yelling had been reduced to talking angrily, venomous words being spit everywhere. The grownups were too busy arguing that nobody even heard the door opening and then closing, even as that short opening gave the wind an opportunity to gush into the house.
Dylan quickly unlocked the car as the wind bit against his skin. The quiet in the car was a nice contrast from his loud mind screaming at him to do all kinds of things to make things better. Neither of them said anything for a long while. Then, after sitting completely still, Dylan got his phone out and dialed a number that he knew well by now.
"Dylan, you still have to tell me-"
"Get some pants on I'm coming over," Dylan said into the phone. His voice was filled with mock confidence but he knew it wouldn't last long until it broke.
"Dyl, babe, that's the kind of occasion that I would get some pants off, you know," Chris joked on the other line because why wouldn't he joke? He had no clue about anything that had just happened. Dylan swallowed the lump in his throat that only seemed to be getting bigger.
"I'm serious. Riley is coming with me," he stated.
"Might I ask why?"
"I'll tell you when we get there, and Chris," he lowered his voice so that Riley wouldn't hear, "get snacks and movie."
With that, he hung up the call and turned the ignition of the car. Riley had gone quiet where she was seated in the passenger seat and Dylan turned his head to look at her. Tears were spilling out of her eyes down onto her shirt and she stared straight ahead.
"I didn't know that they'd react like this. I'm sorry," she whispered, meeting his eyes. "I mean, I knew it was a risk and I knew how Grammy and Grandpops felt about this subconsciously, I just didn't think and I-" A violent cough mixed with a sob made her body spasm.
"Hey, hey, Ry," Dylan said, he, too, whispering in a soothing tone, "Ry, it's okay. It'll be okay. Mom will come around and- and Grammy and Grandpops are just dumb boomers, you don't have to care about what they think."
Despite herself, Riley let out a short giggle. Yeah, it turned into another sob quickly after, but it had been a giggle. Dylan smiled softly and put the car in reverse, backing out of the driveway. It was pitch-black around the car but Dylan knew the way like the back of his hand.
A few minutes later, he pulled up on the driveway of the Davis house. He got out of the car and grabbed both his and Riley's bag, then gestured for her to follow him to the house. As soon as they opened the door, Chris was there. He seemed shocked at first, probably from seeing the mess that had become of Riley. Then, he let them in, Riley going first followed by Dylan.
"Hey," the football player stopped him, "this is completely okay and all, but you really do have to tell me."
"I will," Dylan promised, "I'll tell you everything."
///