![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
Infinity Smashed: Coming Out To Raige's Dad
Coming Out To Raige’s Dad
Series: Infinity Smashed
Word Count: ~1600
Summary: Raige's dad takes it badly, but not as badly as he COULD have taken it?
Notes: This story was the first place winner of this month's story poll, and was supported by the generous Patreon crew! George is Raige's dad; Lily was his mom, and Kara Steinlechter is his great-aunt. Yes, this is the great-aunt he was going to visit at the very beginning of the series, the one with the ferrets.
Kara Steinlechter was playing bridge with the girls when the kitchen phone rang.
“Ignore it,” she said. “Everyone knows not to call me on game day.”
They continued playing, and Kara was so busy winning that she completely forgot about the phone. That evening, after everyone had left, she showered, braided her white hair to keep it from getting tangled while she slept, and poured herself a cup of hot chamomile tea. She was heading towards her room to turn in with a book when she saw the answering machine’s blinking light from the study.
She went in, pressed the button, and heard her nephew-in-law’s voice.
“Kara, it’s George. I need to talk to you. Call me as soon as you get this.”
Hmm. George never said that, certainly not during her game day. Kara put her steaming mug down on the desk, hung her cane on the back of the chair, and sat down to pick up the phone.
It was a little late, but George picked up immediately. He skipped right to the point: “I need you to take your great-nephew for a few days.”
That was hardly a crisis, but Kara suppressed her annoyance and put on her reading glasses so she could flip through the arty calendar on the wall. “Well, let’s see. They’re having a jamboree on the pier in mid-July, he might like that…”
“I meant now. This weekend.”
She stopped flipping. “This weekend? George, it’s Thursday. You can’t be serious.”
The only response was a heavy sigh.
“George Arnold Unnigrutt, don’t you sigh at me. If you want me to take him on such short notice, you had better give me a good explanation.”
Another sigh. “He’s dating.”
Kara could only think of one reason that George would consider that so important that he’d interrupt her game night and request an emergency trip. “That wild girl you’ve complained about?”
Pause. “Yes.”
Kara waited. When nothing was forthcoming, she ventured, “She isn’t pregnant, is she?”
“No! God, no!” Apparently the thought had never occurred to him; for a moment, he sounded both appalled at the idea, and deeply relieved that it hadn’t come to pass.
“Well?”
“He’s dating that Mexican boy too. Both of them. Together.”
“Well then, good for him. What does that have to do with me?”
That did the job. George started ranting, and Kara got more information than if she’d spent half an hour cajoling and wheedling and holding his hand through it. Before retirement, she’d been a therapist; a petty part of her relished that she no longer felt the need to be polite and gentle to everyone around her. So she sipped her tea, and she listened.
Eventually, George wound down, and Kara put away her mug.
“George, for the past I-don’t-know-how-many years, you’ve called me up to worry and complain about your son not dating. I don’t know why you’re surprised to find he’s dating in a way you disapprove of. He’s a teenager. It’s his job.”
George made a sound of exasperation. She could practically see him pacing, raking his fingers through his hair and beard until they stood every which way. “I thought he was a gay.”
“Well, there you go. Aren’t you relieved to be proven wrong?”
“He’s seventeen! He can’t even vote, and here he is graduating early and doing this! What am I supposed to say to him? Do? If I tell him no, that’ll just make them more appealing to him and— and—” Silence.
Kara waited to be sure he was truly stuck, then asked, “Are you worried he’ll disappear again?”
Silence, long enough that she thought she’d have to speak again. Then, quietly, in a very tired voice: “I know I’m no Dad of the Year, but ever since he came back, it’s like I don’t know him anymore.”
Kara softened. However different his temperament, George and his son were all the family she had left, and she loved them. “I think your issues go back further than that.”
Long pause. “Yes.”
…
Freckled and bony, Lily Steinlechter had never been the prettiest child, but she’d been hands down the most fun. Her smile lit up rooms; her laugh was incandescent. Give her a fiddle or a piano, and she could get Baptists to dance at a funeral. She was joyful and vivacious, a spark of a woman who embodied the moment.
So when she she’d gotten together with dull old George, Kara hadn’t understood it.
Oh, she could understand why George would get together with her. He was stiff and square, but Lily could talk him into dancing at parties, coaxing out smiles and laughs as he swung her around. She was a bright light, a breath of fresh air in his otherwise stuffy life.
But the Steinlechters had always been a bohemian family, artists and musicians and libertines; Kara herself had been reborn in the sixties and done a stint as an itinerant performance artist before settling down into counseling. Meanwhile, the only passion George seemed to have was focused entirely on trying to resuscitate the moribund small-time beer company he’d inherited. He’d seemed as sensitive and artistic as a doorstop, prickly as a cactus. What on earth could Lily have seen in him?
But then Lily had gotten sick again.
Lily had always been a sickly child. It was almost as though she shone so brightly because there was a fire blazing within her, and periodically it consumed her until there was nothing left. When that happened, she’d collapse into cold ash.
When Lily was sick, she didn’t light up rooms. She didn’t dance, didn’t play, didn’t laugh. Mostly, she slept. Often, she cried.
Some people didn’t like being around Lily when she was sick. They preferred her well, when she was the bright light, the life of the party. But George had stayed with her and tended her lovingly.
“I don’t have to be fun around him, Auntie,” she’d said.
Three years later, when Lily and George had asked Kara’s blessing to get married, she’d given it. There were far worse things, she’d supposed, than having a spouse you could be sick and sad around.
And Lily, sadly, became sick more and more often. The musician’s schedule didn’t help. Tour after tour, late night after late night, party after drink after cigarette. But to ask Lily to give up music was unthinkable; it was her life.
Had been her life. When she’d died, so had George’s light.
Kara was pulled back into the present as he said, “He’s so much like her…”
She sighed. “He is. But he’s like you too, in some ways. In good ways.”
It was true. Raige had inherited much of his mother’s musical talent, her freckles and boniness and smile, but his internal light hardly held a candle to Lily’s; it was more a gentle glow than an all-consuming inferno. He would probably never become the performer she was, but he would also likely never be consumed by his own fires, and that stability, Kara was certain, came entirely from George.
Raige had always been so quiet, so gentle, so… unadventurous. Running away with a strange wild girl for months on end had been highly unlike him, and it’d scared George to death. Maybe he’d thought his son was going the way of his wife, catching fire, blazing out of control. The reality had turned out much stranger (Kara had squeezed the details out of them eventually), but there was a rift now. Raige had gone somewhere his father couldn’t follow.
“I don’t think you need to worry about him running off,” Kara continued. “He’s growing up, that’s all. Coming into his own. I admit, the circumstances are unusual, but at the root, he’s putting himself out there in the world, instead of hiding in a book. And he trusted you enough to tell you what was going on, instead of just doing it.”
“That’s true,” George admitted. “I don’t think I deserved it.”
“Nevertheless, he did it, and now you have to deal with it.
If it’s any comfort, I can’t imagine that a son you and Lily raised would mistreat those he loves. And at least he’s just choosing to graduate early and date unconventionally; think what he could be doing instead!”
Apparently he hadn’t thought of that. “He’s so young.”
“They always are. But George, you’ve lost so many people over the years. Do you really want to lose him too? He has trusted you with something very important—if you shove him away now and ship him off to me, you might trigger exactly what you hope to avoid.”
Silence. George could be stubborn and grumpy, but he was no fool. “You’re right, and I don’t want that. I don’t even dislike the Mexican kid, really. He seems fine.”
“Well, then, you’re batting fifty,” Kara mused. “That’s better than most parents get when their teenagers date.”
She hoped to make him laugh, but it didn’t. He was clearly busy thinking. Finally, he said, “help me make an action plan.”
Kara smiled. This was the part of George she liked, the part that took action, that had taken that miserable little straw bale of a beer company and spun it into gold. They spent the next hour coming up with ideas, scripts, and roleplaying them out, with Kara playing Raige as necessary. George had seemed uncertain at first, but they’d done this before, and by the end, he was ready… or as ready as he was ever going to be.
“I need to get to bed; it’s late,” Kara said. “Good luck, George.”
“Thank you, Auntie.” Click.
Series: Infinity Smashed
Word Count: ~1600
Summary: Raige's dad takes it badly, but not as badly as he COULD have taken it?
Notes: This story was the first place winner of this month's story poll, and was supported by the generous Patreon crew! George is Raige's dad; Lily was his mom, and Kara Steinlechter is his great-aunt. Yes, this is the great-aunt he was going to visit at the very beginning of the series, the one with the ferrets.
Kara Steinlechter was playing bridge with the girls when the kitchen phone rang.
“Ignore it,” she said. “Everyone knows not to call me on game day.”
They continued playing, and Kara was so busy winning that she completely forgot about the phone. That evening, after everyone had left, she showered, braided her white hair to keep it from getting tangled while she slept, and poured herself a cup of hot chamomile tea. She was heading towards her room to turn in with a book when she saw the answering machine’s blinking light from the study.
She went in, pressed the button, and heard her nephew-in-law’s voice.
“Kara, it’s George. I need to talk to you. Call me as soon as you get this.”
Hmm. George never said that, certainly not during her game day. Kara put her steaming mug down on the desk, hung her cane on the back of the chair, and sat down to pick up the phone.
It was a little late, but George picked up immediately. He skipped right to the point: “I need you to take your great-nephew for a few days.”
That was hardly a crisis, but Kara suppressed her annoyance and put on her reading glasses so she could flip through the arty calendar on the wall. “Well, let’s see. They’re having a jamboree on the pier in mid-July, he might like that…”
“I meant now. This weekend.”
She stopped flipping. “This weekend? George, it’s Thursday. You can’t be serious.”
The only response was a heavy sigh.
“George Arnold Unnigrutt, don’t you sigh at me. If you want me to take him on such short notice, you had better give me a good explanation.”
Another sigh. “He’s dating.”
Kara could only think of one reason that George would consider that so important that he’d interrupt her game night and request an emergency trip. “That wild girl you’ve complained about?”
Pause. “Yes.”
Kara waited. When nothing was forthcoming, she ventured, “She isn’t pregnant, is she?”
“No! God, no!” Apparently the thought had never occurred to him; for a moment, he sounded both appalled at the idea, and deeply relieved that it hadn’t come to pass.
“Well?”
“He’s dating that Mexican boy too. Both of them. Together.”
“Well then, good for him. What does that have to do with me?”
That did the job. George started ranting, and Kara got more information than if she’d spent half an hour cajoling and wheedling and holding his hand through it. Before retirement, she’d been a therapist; a petty part of her relished that she no longer felt the need to be polite and gentle to everyone around her. So she sipped her tea, and she listened.
Eventually, George wound down, and Kara put away her mug.
“George, for the past I-don’t-know-how-many years, you’ve called me up to worry and complain about your son not dating. I don’t know why you’re surprised to find he’s dating in a way you disapprove of. He’s a teenager. It’s his job.”
George made a sound of exasperation. She could practically see him pacing, raking his fingers through his hair and beard until they stood every which way. “I thought he was a gay.”
“Well, there you go. Aren’t you relieved to be proven wrong?”
“He’s seventeen! He can’t even vote, and here he is graduating early and doing this! What am I supposed to say to him? Do? If I tell him no, that’ll just make them more appealing to him and— and—” Silence.
Kara waited to be sure he was truly stuck, then asked, “Are you worried he’ll disappear again?”
Silence, long enough that she thought she’d have to speak again. Then, quietly, in a very tired voice: “I know I’m no Dad of the Year, but ever since he came back, it’s like I don’t know him anymore.”
Kara softened. However different his temperament, George and his son were all the family she had left, and she loved them. “I think your issues go back further than that.”
Long pause. “Yes.”
…
Freckled and bony, Lily Steinlechter had never been the prettiest child, but she’d been hands down the most fun. Her smile lit up rooms; her laugh was incandescent. Give her a fiddle or a piano, and she could get Baptists to dance at a funeral. She was joyful and vivacious, a spark of a woman who embodied the moment.
So when she she’d gotten together with dull old George, Kara hadn’t understood it.
Oh, she could understand why George would get together with her. He was stiff and square, but Lily could talk him into dancing at parties, coaxing out smiles and laughs as he swung her around. She was a bright light, a breath of fresh air in his otherwise stuffy life.
But the Steinlechters had always been a bohemian family, artists and musicians and libertines; Kara herself had been reborn in the sixties and done a stint as an itinerant performance artist before settling down into counseling. Meanwhile, the only passion George seemed to have was focused entirely on trying to resuscitate the moribund small-time beer company he’d inherited. He’d seemed as sensitive and artistic as a doorstop, prickly as a cactus. What on earth could Lily have seen in him?
But then Lily had gotten sick again.
Lily had always been a sickly child. It was almost as though she shone so brightly because there was a fire blazing within her, and periodically it consumed her until there was nothing left. When that happened, she’d collapse into cold ash.
When Lily was sick, she didn’t light up rooms. She didn’t dance, didn’t play, didn’t laugh. Mostly, she slept. Often, she cried.
Some people didn’t like being around Lily when she was sick. They preferred her well, when she was the bright light, the life of the party. But George had stayed with her and tended her lovingly.
“I don’t have to be fun around him, Auntie,” she’d said.
Three years later, when Lily and George had asked Kara’s blessing to get married, she’d given it. There were far worse things, she’d supposed, than having a spouse you could be sick and sad around.
And Lily, sadly, became sick more and more often. The musician’s schedule didn’t help. Tour after tour, late night after late night, party after drink after cigarette. But to ask Lily to give up music was unthinkable; it was her life.
Had been her life. When she’d died, so had George’s light.
Kara was pulled back into the present as he said, “He’s so much like her…”
She sighed. “He is. But he’s like you too, in some ways. In good ways.”
It was true. Raige had inherited much of his mother’s musical talent, her freckles and boniness and smile, but his internal light hardly held a candle to Lily’s; it was more a gentle glow than an all-consuming inferno. He would probably never become the performer she was, but he would also likely never be consumed by his own fires, and that stability, Kara was certain, came entirely from George.
Raige had always been so quiet, so gentle, so… unadventurous. Running away with a strange wild girl for months on end had been highly unlike him, and it’d scared George to death. Maybe he’d thought his son was going the way of his wife, catching fire, blazing out of control. The reality had turned out much stranger (Kara had squeezed the details out of them eventually), but there was a rift now. Raige had gone somewhere his father couldn’t follow.
“I don’t think you need to worry about him running off,” Kara continued. “He’s growing up, that’s all. Coming into his own. I admit, the circumstances are unusual, but at the root, he’s putting himself out there in the world, instead of hiding in a book. And he trusted you enough to tell you what was going on, instead of just doing it.”
“That’s true,” George admitted. “I don’t think I deserved it.”
“Nevertheless, he did it, and now you have to deal with it.
If it’s any comfort, I can’t imagine that a son you and Lily raised would mistreat those he loves. And at least he’s just choosing to graduate early and date unconventionally; think what he could be doing instead!”
Apparently he hadn’t thought of that. “He’s so young.”
“They always are. But George, you’ve lost so many people over the years. Do you really want to lose him too? He has trusted you with something very important—if you shove him away now and ship him off to me, you might trigger exactly what you hope to avoid.”
Silence. George could be stubborn and grumpy, but he was no fool. “You’re right, and I don’t want that. I don’t even dislike the Mexican kid, really. He seems fine.”
“Well, then, you’re batting fifty,” Kara mused. “That’s better than most parents get when their teenagers date.”
She hoped to make him laugh, but it didn’t. He was clearly busy thinking. Finally, he said, “help me make an action plan.”
Kara smiled. This was the part of George she liked, the part that took action, that had taken that miserable little straw bale of a beer company and spun it into gold. They spent the next hour coming up with ideas, scripts, and roleplaying them out, with Kara playing Raige as necessary. George had seemed uncertain at first, but they’d done this before, and by the end, he was ready… or as ready as he was ever going to be.
“I need to get to bed; it’s late,” Kara said. “Good luck, George.”
“Thank you, Auntie.” Click.
no subject
no subject