Joel Tait squirmed in the backseat of his parent’s late model Mercedes S class SUV, his short legs folded up like origami in the spacious back seat. The sun blazed outside, and even though he was safely behind the UV blocking tinted windows, that kept the danger at bay, he felt its oppressive heat. His mother, Rachel, glanced back at him from the front passenger seat, her eyes crinkling with concern. "We're getting there, sweetie, I know it's been a long trip, so try to hang in there. Okay?" she promised for the umpteenth time, her voice soothing despite the tension that hung in the car like a thick fog.
His father, Robert’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel, "You know, Joel," he began, his voice tight, "you could try to be a little more optimistic. It's not like you're going to be living under a bridge."
Joel rolled his eyes behind the protective lenses of his, jewel encrusted, pink, UV blocking sunglasses. "You say that, but is it true?" he said, his voice dripping with angst. "Oakland is a sea of corn and cows, everyone there probably reeks of manure and wears dirty overalls every day. I can't live like that! Does Bloomingdale's even sell overalls? Or Saks? Does Oakland even HAVE a Bloomingdale's? Do they even have a shopping mall?" He knew he was being extra. He already knew the answers because he’d looked them up, but you can't quit when you’re on a roll, right? "Where am I even supposed to get my clothes? Mom? I know Dad shops at Walmart, but does that mean I have to, too? Oooh, I know, I could buy the same clothes as dad, then we could be twins. Nobody would be able to tell us apart. I’d blend right into the crowd. Brown and boring! Isn't that right dad?" His dad did dress quite modestly compared to Joel, but he didn't buy his clothes at Walmart. Actually, most people dress modestly comparatively. "Ugh!' Joel cried loudly as he crossed his arms, slumping hard against his seat. "I can't believe this is happening to me!"
As Joel’s cry filled the car, a 35-pound body went rigid beside him. Lulu, his seven-year-old pit bull, instantly sensed the shift, her cropped ears pointing forward. She lifted her head, her face—a soft, off-center splash of black and white—wrinkling as she aimed a low, warning huff toward the front seats. She was his shield. Joel’s hand immediately found her, burying his fingers in her warm, solid fur. She was his anchor. She instantly quieted her protective growl, trading it for a low, sympathetic whine that perfectly mirrored his own despair, and shoved her head forcefully into his lap.
Joel’s dad, Robert, growled low. "Rachel, say something to that boy before I do." In a flat, emotionless, tone.
Rachel sighed lightly, trying to defuse the tension, and reassure Joel, his fears were unfounded. "Joel, sweetie, I think you've taken it far enough now, don’t you? She sat crooked in her seat so she could directly look at Joel. “We get your point, honey, believe me! And I'm sure we'll find some lovely boutiques for you to shop at. And, we can always buy online what you can’t find in the store, okay? You'll still be the most stylish boy in school, as usual. I promise." She said with a wink looking right at him, letting him know, she would make sure he got what he wanted. His fashion choices were one of the many things that set him apart from the other kids in his old school. He thought of himself as fashion-forward, he always kept up with the latest designer trends. But try as he might, he was known to all the kids at school as 'the alien' or 'Snow White' as the bullies had dubbed him. Now at the prospect of living in a small rural town, he was beginning to feel like a real Alien, for the first time in his life. He didn't belong in a small town, he belonged in the big city, where he was born and raised.
"It's not just about the clothes, Mom," Joel retorted, pushing a tuft of white hair from his eyes. "It's about the whole... country bumpkin lifestyle. I'm going to be the only out boy, definitely the only albino kid, I have absolutely zero romantic prospects, and the icing on the cake? I’ll be the only kid in town that has any sense of fashion, in a town where everyone probably thinks Gucci is a type of pasta, and Prada is a brand of brake pads!" His voice was high-pitched, a trait that made him an even more tempting target for the bullies. “How am I supposed to deal with that? I’ll tell you how. Twenty-five hours of therapy, that’s how! Midwesterners. Ick! How do they live with themselves?”
Robert, finally snapped. "That's enough Joel! You know what?" He said, his eyes still on the road, but his voice echoing with frustration. "Maybe if you weren't so... flamboyant. Maybe then, you wouldn't have so much trouble making friends. Maybe if you tried to fit in just a little more, you wouldn't be so lonely, you know, find kids that have something in common with you."
Robert's tight, frustrated voice was a spark in the tension-filled car. As he said the word "flamboyant," Lulu’s head snapped up from Joel’s lap. The sympathetic whine was gone, replaced by a low, guttural growl that vibrated through the seat. Her cropped ears were rigid, and she fixed an intense stare on the back of Robert's headrest, her loyalty making no distinction between a harsh word and a physical threat.
“And, there it is. The slap in the face. Othered. By my own father no less!” His cheeks burned, not from the sun, but from the sting of his father's words. "Yeah, you're right, dad. Thanks for pointing that out, it's MY fault that I get bullied, nearly every... single... day!" He pounded at his seat, his voice shaking with anger and hurt. "Is this your first day as my father? Are you one of those ‘I don’t see color’ people? FYI, I'm not like everyone else! I’m a living ghost. I’m an alien!” Tears started flowing down his cheeks. “People don’t like ghosts. And they definitely don’t like aliens! I WILL NEVER BE like everybody else DAD! I can’t change my skin color!!! Is that not plain enough for you to, see?” Tears filled his eyes. Desperation in his voice. “WHY... why can't you at least TRY to understand me?"
As Joel’s voice cracked and his fists pounded the seat, Lulu’s agitation exploded. She fed directly off his panic, her deep growl breaking into a series of high-pitched, frantic whines and yips. She scrambled in the small space, pawing at his chest and trying to lick the tears from his face, looking wildly between her sobbing boy and the man in the driver's seat. The car was now a chaotic mess of human sobs and canine distress.
Joel’s sobs and Lulu's high-pitched keening filled the awkward silence.
"Robert," Rachel said, a warning in her tone, seeing his temperature rise even more, but acted as if he hadn't heard her. “Don’t do it.” Turning to Joel. “Honey, please calm down, you're upsetting Lulu. I don’t like where this is going.” She handed Joel some tissues. “It's okay, Lulu, shhh. Daddy heard you, Joel.” Joel and Lulu both acted as if they didn't hear her.
"I can't help being how I am, you’d know that if you ever paid attention to me." Joel's voice was small now, full of pain, exhausted. His sass evaporated in the face of his father's disapproval glaring in the rear-view mirror. Tears still flowing. "Nobody judges you for being who you are." His words hung in the air like a challenge, as Robert's grip on the steering wheel tightened, his knuckles, nearly as white as Joel's porcelain face. “At least you have a choice.” He clutched Lulu's fur, the dog’s solid warmth the only thing keeping him from vibrating apart.
A pained sigh escaped Rachel’s lips, so quiet it was swallowed by the hum of the tires. The casual cruelty in Robert’s tone wasn’t just an insult; it was a trigger. Her mind flashed, unbidden, to the hospital—to the chilling silence of the ICU and the doctor’s grave voice talking about the moments they almost lost him. She had sworn to God, to the universe, to anyone who would listen, that she would never let him get that close to the edge again.
She watched her son now, a lump forming in her throat. She saw the familiar way he squared his slender shoulders, the almost imperceptible lift of his chin.
Joel felt his mother’s eyes on him, but he stared straight ahead, his own internal battle lines being drawn. The Gucci sunglasses weren't just sunglasses; they were a visor. His designer clothes, a uniform. Every flamboyant gesture, every sarcastic retort—they were his shield and his sword. His father saw weakness, saw a target. He had no idea he was looking at a soldier who had already survived the worst battle of the war and was ready for another.
Robert sighed, his shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry I don't have the right answers for you, Joel." he said, his voice softer now, but still deflecting any personal responsibility. "People in the world, they don't get it, it's hard for people to understand you when you're... different."
"Nice try, Dad," Joel said, his voice heavy with sarcasm. "I know you couldn't help making a crappy genetic contribution to my existence. But you could at least be honest, and admit it out loud. You don’t like the fact that I'd rather read a book than dribble a basketball,” His face twisted. “Ugh, such a barbarically sweaty sport. And you don't like the fact that I like boys instead of girls. Neither of which I could do, even if I wanted to!" He made a face his parents didn't see. "They’re both gross. Ick! Sorry mom, I don't mean you, you’re not gross."
The car was silent for a moment, the hum of the engine the only sound between them. Robert prayed it would stay that way. Rachel could feel the tension in the car was as thick as the humidity outside it. This was not their first go-round on the subject. Still, she knew that Joel's words had hit a nerve with Robert, who had always struggled with his son's differences.
Robert took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving the road ahead and not wanting to admit Joel was right. "You know it's not like that, Joel," he said, his voice a mix of weariness and sadness. "Your mother and I love you just the way you are. We just want you to be safe and happy."
But Joel was already retreating into his own thoughts, his mind reeling with the undeniable truths of his existence. He knew that albinism was a genetic condition, and his parents weren't really to blame. Robert had never been one to express affection openly, and it has only gotten worse as Joel has aged. Rachel, on the other hand, was his rock, his sanctuary in a world that often seemed to be against him. Rachel had always encouraged Joel to embrace his uniqueness, believe in his beauty, and for the most part, he had. But every once in a while, in moments like these that made Joel doubt whether even she truly accepted him.
Suddenly, Joel went in for the kill. "And you know something else? You don't think I notice things, but I do. I noticed, a long time ago, when taking me to the park to play, became a chore for you. A chore you just didn't want to deal with and happily passed onto someone else. 'Ewe, my son is gay AND an albino!'" Joel mocked his dad's imaginary words. "Or, when you conveniently have to work late every time I have a school function. You didn't think I noticed when it changed to only mom who came to my parent-teacher conferences? Should I go on? Admit it, dad, you have never accepted me, especially since I came out when I was seven! It’s been SEVEN YEARS, nearly to the day. That’s half of my life, dad, and you’re still not over it! I am so sick of all the bullshit! I can't take it anymore!"
At the word "bullshit," shouted with all the air in Joel's lungs, Lulu’s frantic energy peaked. She lunged forward as far as she could, letting out one, sharp, percussive bark that echoed like a gunshot inside the Mercedes.
Rachel gasped and jerked in her seat, flinching from both the word and the sudden bark. "Joel Coltrane Tait! Language! Lulu, down!" A shocked Mrs. Tait had never heard Joel swear before, nor her dog bark like that in the car. "And don't talk to your father like that. You are being mean, sweetheart, I don't like that."
Robert’s jaw was clenched so tightly it looked as if he was trying to crack walnuts with his teeth. The car's air conditioner blew a cold wind that did nothing to ease the heat of the tension in the car. Rachel's eyes darted between Joel's reflection in her visor mirror, and her husband's furrowed brow as her own heart ached, seeing the two men in her life she loved so much.
Finally, Robert spoke, his voice low and measured. As he spoke, Joel’s hand stroked Lulu’s head, quieting her. She settled against his hip, trembling, but her eyes remained locked on the front seat, a low, nearly inaudible rumble of a growl still issuing from her chest. She was quiet, but not calm. "Joel, I never said any of those things. I don't like you putting words in my mouth. And you, DAMN WELL KNOW, that I've never missed a single one of your school functions because I didn't want to go. My job is very demanding sometimes. And sometimes, that means I have to miss things. I'm sorry that hurts your feelings, son, but that's how life works sometimes." He took a deep breath, his knuckles still white on the steering wheel. "And as for your sexuality goes... Well, that is not a conversation to be had at this time."
"Boys! Boys! Stop it! I've had enough of this back and forth with you two." Rachel looked at the navigation screen. "Robert, look, the map says there's a rest area up ahead, I strongly suggest we stop there." Robert knew it was really a command, not a suggestion. "This will be a good chance for you two to cool your heads. And, I'm sure Lulu would also like to go potty."
Joel slumped back in his seat, crossed his arms, and made an audible grumble. "humph" His hand rested on Lulu's head, idly scratching her cropped ears. Feeling as though his mother had rung the bell in a boxing match that he was winning.