Splunker’s The Cat Productions

Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.

Julian stared at the check with a mixture of shock and horror. The check was good, there was no doubt about that. In fact, it was practically pocket change to his father. He was shocked because, despite Renauld Mercier’s considerable wealth, he was hardly known for his generosity–even when it came to his own son. He was horrified because of the particular reason why Renauld felt the sudden need to part with such a large sum.

Julian’s hands shook from rage and fear as he painfully tore the check in half. Placing the scraps together, he repeated the process twice more. He met his father’s steely gaze as he tossed the eight scraps of paper that seconds ago had been a quarter of a million dollars in his father’s direction.

“If you want your faggot son out of your life this badly, all you have to do is ask.” He felt the heat emanating from his face and knew it must be nearly the same shade of red as his hair. He stood up quickly, jostling the dinner table as he did so and knocking over his mother’s wine glass. She gasped, leapt to her feet, and immediately set about cleaning up the spill, more concerned with keeping the merlot from ruining her gleaming white tablecloth than with the volatile situation brewing between her husband and only child.

Julian continued to stare at Renauld, paying his mother as much attention as she paid him. “I won’t let you buy me off. I don’t want your money. If you really want me gone, I’m gone.”

Renauld buckled under the intensity of Julian’s stare and lowered his gaze. “Yes, I want you gone,” he said with a slight French accent to the table. The accent was a holdover from his childhood, picked up from his own parents, and it no longer made its appearance unless he was extremely upset or stressed out. Both were applicable here.

Julian sighed. He looked at his mother, who still devoted her attention to the spreading wine stain instead of involving herself in the dispute. “Fine. Give me a few hours to pack and I’ll be out of your hair for good.”

The path to his bedroom took him past where his father stood. Renauld grabbed his arm as he tried to pass. He turned Julian around forcefully to face him and finally met his gaze. “It doesn’t have to be this way, son. Take it back and we can pretend it never happened.”

“I can’t do that. I won’t. I’m gay, Dad. Just because I’m only now able to say it out loud doesn’t mean it wasn’t true last week, or last year, or five years ago. It shouldn’t change anything, but unfortunately it has. If you can’t look past this and see the same person I’ve been all my life, then I’m not going to live a lie just to stay in your good graces.” He tried to shrug free, but Renauld merely tightened his grip.

“Where are you going to go? Huh? No one in the family is going to let you mooch off them. I hope you’ve been careful with your money, because I’m not making you another offer to help you out.” He eyed Julian warily. “You got some queer at work to shack up with?”

“No, Dad, I don’t. I don’t have anyone. I’ve been too scared of something like this happening to even think about trying to date.” He shrugged again, and this time succeeded in breaking free. “I’ll take care of myself. If there’s anything you’ve taught me, it’s that I can’t rely on anyone but myself. Not even my own father. As for where I’m gonna go…” Julian sighed. “Anywhere but here sounds damn good right about now.”