Chapter 18

‘Easy, Dad,’ Kurt said, leading his father to the living room sofa the next day.

Burt rolled his eyes above his son’s head. He didn’t like being coddled, it was his job to coddle Kurt, not the other way around. And the situation frustrated him even more, reminding him painfully about his failure in being a parent.

‘I’m fine, kiddo, you don’t have to help me walk everywhere. I had a heart attack, they didn’t cut off my legs.’

‘I know, but-‘ He paused, stopping mid-motion as he fluffed a cushion for his father. ‘Itwouldntvehappenedifitwasntforme.’

‘What was that?’ Burt frowned, seeing the scarlet pouring over Kurt’s cheeks.

‘It- wouldn’t have happened if I…’

He couldn’t get himself to finish the sentence; admitting the truth was so difficult it made his voice shake even before he got to the most terrifying part.

‘You mean I wouldn’t get a heart attack if you didn’t run away.’ Burt nodded in understanding, his face solemn and pained. He beckoned his son to sit next to him, and Kurt obeyed, feeling his palms sweat profusely and his lower lip tremble.

‘It’s not your fault, kiddo,’ Burt said, once Kurt was perched on the edge of the couch. ‘If it didn’t happen now, it’d happen someday, doctors say it could have been worse if it happened later. Don’t beat yourself up.’

Hesitantly, Burt lifted his hand and placed it on his son’s shoulder in a reassuring gesture. He couldn’t shake off the feeling that there was still a lot that distressed Kurt; he had to show him he was not alone. But there was also something Burt needed to know, what had been keeping him awake for the last weeks.

‘Kurt,’ he started in an uncertain voice. ‘I just need to ask you one thing.’

Kurt’s breath hitched, his body tensed. Here we go. All he could hear for a moment was the frantic rush of his blood to his brain, black spots appeared in front of his eyes. He caught a lungful of air to calm himself down, but it didn’t work as well as he’d hoped.

‘You shouldn’t strain yourself, Dad, I should let you rest,’ he mumbled, preparing to get up as his father grabbed his arm to keep him seated.

‘It strains me more to keep wondering what I did wrong, than to talk to you about it.’

Realizing there was no other option, Kurt slumped back down to the sofa and put his hands firmly on his knees. He had to steady himself somehow and it made him feel like he had a strong foothold in the floor.

‘You said you wanted to ask me something,’ he said, barely in control over his voice. ‘So ask.’

Burt was silent for a moment, trying to formulate his question as sensibly as possible.

‘I know you’re not on the football team,’ he said finally, keeping his eye on Kurt’s expression. ‘I just wanted to know, why you would lie to me about it.’

Another spell of silence ensued, weighing heavily on both father and son. Kurt wanted to answer, but a lump in his throat deprived him of his voice.

‘I was afraid you wouldn’t accept me,’ he whispered eventually, barely loud enough for Burt to hear.

Burt frowned; why would Kurt question his ability to accept his own son? Was he really such a bad father? Anxiety rising within him, he braced himself for whatever Kurt’s answer to his next question could be.

‘Why wouldn’t I accept you?’

By now, huge tears were streaming down Kurt’s face and hanging from his eyelashes. Kurt struggled to keep quiet, but loud ugly sobs were threatening to break out at any moment. His frame began to shake, and Burt’s arm jerked up to wrap around Kurt’s shoulders.

‘I’m- Dad, I’m-‘ Kurt was barely able to catch his breath, and even though he was determined to put this behind him, he simply couldn’t spit the crucial word out.

‘Shh, kiddo, it’s fine.’ Burt patted his son awkwardly on the back.

Kurt hunched, hugging his arms to his chest in a desperate attempt to breathe and just say it. Let the hell break loose, or the peace come, whichever it was going to be.

‘I’m gay,’ he finally choked out.

His father stayed silent for a moment, so Kurt turned to check his reaction. Burt’s arm was still around him, which made him hope it wasn’t that bad. But what he saw on his father’s face was worse than he had expected. It was pure, undiluted pain.

‘You thought I wouldn’t accept you?,’ Burt asked, his voice surprisingly quiet. ‘Am I really such a sucky father?’

Kurt shook his head violently, trying to soften the blow. It wasn’t all Burt’s fault after all; truth be told, neither ever tried reaching out to the other. They just kept on living side by side under the same roof. Next to each other, but not really together, never making the attempt to truly get to know and understand the other, coexisting in one house, constantly separated by closed doors and silence.

‘I didn’t- I really didn’t know what to expect.’ Kurt rubbed the moisture of his face impatiently. ‘It’s not like we talk worldview or politics, or whatever… It’s not like we talk at all.’

He glanced sideways at his father to see him nodding with a heavyhearted expression on his face.

‘You’re right,’ Burt said. ‘I wasn’t the best dad I could be. But you know what? I’m going to try and be the best I can be.’

‘So you’re not… You’re not mad?’ Kurt’s voice trembled.

‘Why would I be? I’m the one who screwed up, so I’m mad at myself, not you. We’re gonna fix this, buddy, okay?’

Kurt nodded and began to get to his feet again. Then he remembered what the whole point of this conversation was for him.

‘But what about the other thing?,’ he asked, his gaze dropping to the carpeted floor.

‘That you’re gay? I knew since you were three,’ Burt shrugged his shoulders. ‘I may not be thrilled you’re gonna have a groom instead of a bride, but- Kurt, I love you just the same.’

A fresh wave of tears threatened to pour down Kurt’s face, as he threw his arms around his father.

‘Ouch,’ Burt gasped. ‘Convalescent here.’

Kurt fell back, his cheeks turning a deeper shade of red than the tears had already made them.

‘Sorry. I love you, too, Dad.’