Blue Line Confessions

Somewhere way down inside, I had always known I wasn't like everyone else. My mother kept insisting I was, swearing she'd raised me into her perfect little church boy who could never do any wrong. She treated me like a puppet, yanking every string in my life and making me move at her command. She probably would have kept right on running my life if I hadn't come out to her. That by itself was enough to get me kicked out and packed off to stay with my father and his family, which really didn't bother me much. My father and I had never been especially close, since I only saw him some weekends, but he had never been cruel to me. When I phoned him and said Mom had thrown me out, he came over right away and brought me back to his place. A month after that, my mother signed over custody completely, and I was living with my father, his wife, her son, and my little half-sister. "Micah?" my father asked softly, rapping his knuckles against my bedroom door. "Come in," I called, staying in my desk chair with my hands on my laptop. My father stepped inside but lingered in the doorway, one shoulder against the frame. He still had on his business-casual work clothes, his briefcase in hand, and I swiveled toward him expectantly. "Just wanted to make sure you don't need anything last-minute before try-outs tomorrow," he said kindly. My father hadn't been much of a presence after he and my mom split, but he was trying hard to make up for all of it by being there when I needed him most. I couldn't really resent the distance against him, because I was pretty sure my mother had done everything she could to keep him away. "I think I'm good," I said easily. "I went back to Mom's and grabbed all my hockey stuff while she was out." Dad gave a nod. "All right, just tell me if something comes up. I'm sure Cameron has a few things you can use if you need them." "Okay," I said, nodding once. "Thanks, Dad." "Dinner's in ten," he said, closing my door on his way out, likely going upstairs to change out of his office clothes. After he was gone, I closed my laptop and pushed back from my desk so I could head downstairs. By the time I reached the kitchen, my stepmother, Tricia, and my little sister, Sophie, were laying out plates. "Need help with anything?" I asked. Tricia gave me a warm smile. "Sure, Micah." I slid into Tricia's spot beside Sophie and finished setting the table while she crossed to the stove and pulled dinner from the oven. Dad came downstairs a minute later and helped Tricia plate the last of dinner. Then the four of us settled in with one seat beside me still empty. "Should we wait for Cam?" Dad asked Tricia, who was glaring at the empty chair in irritation. "No, I-" The kitchen door swung open before Tricia could finish, and Cam rushed inside looking stressed out.