𝙲𝙰𝙺𝙴 (𝙰 𝙵𝚞𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝙱𝚡𝙱 𝙽𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚕) 🍰

㉗ 𝙵𝚁𝙸𝙴𝙽𝙳𝚂 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙵𝙰𝙼𝙸𝙻𝚈

~~~

Charlie

I don't like the way my father cooks.

But, obviously, his friends do. They're all like, "Delicious, Hugo!" or, "Good job, Hugo!", as if he were a gourmet chef.

I just think they're scared of him.

The sounds of clinking and chewing filled the dining room as we feasted on our Thanksgiving dinner. I took a big helping of mashed potatoes, peas, and turkey, hoping to please my father. But, of course, it was stupid to think he'd even bat an eye. Not much talking was occurring, so the atmosphere felt a little tense. Especially after the interaction Hugo and I had earlier.

I sat at the end of the table, playing with my food. I was already sick of it. My mind felt fuzzy. I didn't know what I was doing here.

"So, Charlie..." A voice broke the silence. It was Beth's. "What are your hobbies nowadays?" She asked, wiping her mouth with a napkin. Everyone looked at her, including my father.

"Oh, I'm, uh... I'm doing photography." I responded, awkwardly. "Yeah..."

"Oh, cool! Is that what you want to do full-time? Where do you go to college?" Beth continued.

Usually, I get annoyed when my father's friends try to start chit-chat with me, but something about Beth's personality felt sweet and comforting.

"Oh, I go to the, uh, the Cloverland Institute of Visual Arts."

"Oh, I know that place," Roger interrupted. "Do you play football there? I heard the Timberwolves are very popular."

"No, I don't, actually," I replied.

"Do you play any sports?" Michael questioned.

It felt weird to own the spotlight in front of all of my father's friends.

"No," I answered, trying to laugh it off. This is probably the most awkward I've ever been.

"Your kid some sort of queer?" I heard Michael whisper to my father.

Seriously? What is it with people who assume non-athletic people are always homosexual?

I could see Beth feel visibly disturbed by that comment in the corner of my eye.

"Just because I'm interested in arts and don't play sports doesn't mean I'm—" I tried to argue.

"Charlie," Hugo muttered.

I remained back to being quiet.

"Don't waste your time on him, folks. He's not much of a talker." My dad insulted me in front of everyone.

I only talk to those I want to, dad. And I don't want to talk to any of your friends, dad.

Ways I could've spoken back went through my head as the opportunity faded away, but I know it was better to keep quiet than to have my dad beat my ass when we're finished.

As the guests began to strike up conversation again, I could see the look on my father's face. His stare: domineering and evil. He knows I can't speak up. He knows I can't argue. He knows that if I were to do anything, he'd destroy me. Here I sat, across from him, under his thumb like a caged animal.

I want to fight him.

I want to hurt him.

But, we both know that it's no use.

I can't believe that I, Charlie Cooperton, can be tamed only from a look.

"Photography, huh? Can I see some of your work?" Beth asked, facing me like we were forming our own private conversation.