Chapter 20 Rafael

Rafael found Gabriella waiting for him at the counter when he left the break room. Following him out to his car, she turned to him once they were seated inside.

"What was all that with Mr. Star? He scares me when he looks at me," Gabriella said.

"We'll discuss everything when we get home."

"Are you going to make lasagna for us?"

"I could."

Rafael pulled into the driveway, the house silent and dark except for the dim glow from the porch light. Parking the Jeep, he glanced at Gabriella in the passenger seat. Her head was resting against the window, eyes closed from a long day working at the diner. He hated what he had to do.

For years, the secret had been a suffocating weight on his chest. Every time Andrew's name came up, every time Gabriella mentioned a date, the lie tightened its grip.

Taking a deep breath, Rafael nudged Gabriella awake. "We're here," he said.

She blinked, a sleepy smile forming. "I'm beat."

They walked inside, Gabriella flipping on the kitchen light. Rafael lingered in the doorway, stomach churning. "Hey, Gabbi," he started, the words catching in his throat.

Gabriella's smile faded, her brow furrowing in concern. "What's wrong? You look like you swallowed a lemon."

Rafael met her gaze, his voice barely a whisper. "There's something I need to tell you." He paced the small kitchen, running a hand through his hair. How do I say, ‘Hey, everything you thought you knew about me is wrong'?

Finally, he blurted it out. "I'm…I'm gay." The words hung in the air, heavy and final.

Silence. Then, a look in Gabriella's eyes—confusion, maybe even hurt. Rafael braced himself for the storm.

Instead, Gabriella sighed, a small, sad sound. "Oh, Rafe." She reached out, her hand landing gently on his arm. "That's it?"

Relief washed over him, so suddenly, it almost knocked him off his feet. "That's it," he echoed, bewildered.

A smile, hesitant but genuine, touched her lips. "Yeah. You being gay doesn't change anything. You're still my macho, loving brother." She hugged him. "Obviously someone has stolen my brother's heart. Who is he?"

Rafael laughed, a shaky sound at first, then growing stronger. "Sorry, sis, but my boyfriend is actually Andrew."

Gabriella's smile widened. "Seriously? Andrew? Well, good for you, Rafe. You know, I've always thought he was cute. I guess you were right when you said believe him when he said he wasn't looking for a girlfriend. He meant it. And you knew all along?"

"Not really. Neither of us knew the other was gay. We just started seeing each other."

"I'm happy for both of you."

Rafael grinned. "We were supposed to go to his house, but since I'm making lasagna, I'm going to invite him here for dinner, then we can discuss Pop's letter to Mr. Star."

"What letter?" Staring blankly ahead, she was clearly taken aback by what he had just said.

"Let me send Andrew a text first and I'll tell you."

Rafael: Come to my house for dinner. I'm making lasagna.

Andrew: Sounds delicious. I'll be there after I change.

"Pop sent a letter to Mr. Star and told him to make Andrew and me end our relationship. I don't know how he found out. Mr. Star showed up and punched Andrew. That was just before at the diner and as you know, I was there when it all happened." Rafael poured the tomato sauce with crushed tomatoes and spices into a large pot. He blended the spices with the crushed tomatoes.

"Who would tell Pop? Who even knew?"

"We don't know. Both of us had agreed to keep it quiet."

"What did the letter say?"

"It's in my pocket, but it's so foul I don't want you to read it. It's full of slurs and going to hell in between telling Mr. Star he must end the relationship."

"Why would Pop write a letter to Mr. Star and not tell you personally to end it?"

"I don't know, but you've got a good point there. Pop would be over here trying to kill me, not writing a letter to the man he hates." His sister's thoughts resonated deeply with him, making perfect sense. His father was not exactly a writing person. He'd rather invading your personal space if he had issues with you.

"Remember when you were sitting in a booth talking to Andrew?" Gabriella asked.

"Yes. What about it?" Rafael was lost in his thoughts, imagining his father sitting serenely at his desk, penning the angry, wicked letter. His mother wrote out the bills. He had never seen his father write anything to anyone.

"Miss Amelia was shooting you the evil eye."

"Sorry, what did you say? I was trying to imagine Pop writing a letter."

"Miss Amelia was shooting you two the evil eye," she repeated.

"Miss Amelia is pure verbal poison, but would she go as far as writing a homophobic letter to Mr. Star and pretend it was from Pop?" Rafael asked.

"She's always at the Blue Star Diner. She eats all three meals there. I notice she didn't come in for lunch or dinner today."

"I saw her this morning."

"Well, she didn't come again today. I'm going to take a shower and relax in my bedroom, so you can talk to Andrew."

"But you'd better come down for my lasagna."

"So, you are going to make that tonight?"

"Why not? Andrew will be here. Are you okay with that?"

"Sure. You know I adore him." She left and went upstairs.

His phone rang, and he picked it up.

"Officer Duarte, there seems to be gossip about you being gay," Officer Miller said in a clipped tone.

"Why are you calling me?"

"Just checking the validity of the gossip."

"What does that have to do with my job? Who is spreading this gossip?" Rage consumed Rafael, making him feel both furious and deeply unsettled.

"We got an anonymous letter addressed to the department."

"We have a lot of gossips in this town. I guess you'll have to decide what to do about that. It's against the law to ask me that question."

"No one cares around here, but the captain asked me to call." Officer Miller's voice had a fake remorseful quality to it.

"You're just doing your job."

"Yes. Just doing as asked. See you soon."

Ending the call left him with a lingering feeling of anxiety. Now his department was aware of him being gay. Queasiness overwhelmed him, making him feel like he was about to be sick. He grabbed a cold bottle of beer from the refrigerator; the condensation slipped through his fingers as he made his way to the living room to have another look at the letter as he waited for Andrew.

The sound of tires crunching on gravel filled the air and as he glanced out the window, he spotted Andrew's car. He didn't look upset as he made his way to the door, which Rafael opened before he rang the doorbell.

"Andrew, come in."

"Are you sure it's okay?"

"Yes. I told Gabriella. She's not upset."

Rafael took his hand and led him into the dimly lit living room. He pulled him close for a kiss.

"I missed you," Rafael said.

"I missed you too. Things with Joe went over pretty good."

"Follow me to the kitchen. I promised to make lasagna for us."

"I can help."

"You sit down and have a beer or whatever you want to drink."

"A beer is great. I'll get it." Andrew opened the fridge and pulled out a beer.

Rafael poured bubbling tomato sauce into a casserole dish, careful not to splatter it on his shirt. The aroma of garlic and herbs filled the kitchen, a comforting contrast to the turmoil in his gut. Andrew leaned against the wall, watching him with a helpless expression.

"Another layer of noodles?" Rafael asked, his voice strained.

Andrew nodded. "Yeah, sure." He hesitated, then blurted out, "Look, about the letter…"

Rafael winced. "It isn't my dad's handwriting."

"It isn't?" Andrew asked. "But who would…?"

Rafael scraped the bottom of the ricotta container, frustration tightening his throat. "That's the million-dollar question. And whoever it is, they didn't stop there."

Andrew's eyebrows shot up. "What do you mean?"

Rafael slammed the ricotta container down a little harder than necessary. "Someone sent the station an anonymous letter. Told them I was…well, you know." Coming out on his own terms had always been the plan, not like this. Not forced out by some anonymous coward.

Andrew crossed the kitchen, placing a hand on Rafael's shoulder. "Hey," he mumbled. "We'll figure this out. Together. Okay?"

Rafael met Andrew's gaze, finding a mix of anger and resolve in his eyes. The unspoken promise of support calmed the storm inside him a fraction. "Yeah," he managed. "Okay."

Silence settled between them for a moment, then Andrew squeezed Rafael's shoulder. "Let's just get through tonight, alright?"

Rafael forced a smile. "You sure you can stomach lasagna after all this?"

Andrew grinned. "No problem eating, especially when you're the one cooking."

They might not have all the answers yet, but for now, Andrew being here was enough.

Rafael said, "You're on dish duty." They both chuckled, a shaky sound that echoed in the tense kitchen, a small victory in the face of uncertainty.