I couldn’t find a picture to go with this caption, so if anybody finds one that fits, send it to me and I will post one!
Brady was struck with a thought. He was barefoot, wearing jean shorts, an old cropped tank, and had a six month old on his hip. Old country music played from the radio. There was chili in the crockpot, and bread rising on the counter, next to a jar of cucumbers he pickled himself which was going to be opened for dinner. From the kitchen window, Brady could see the Camaro on blocks his husband was currently working on in his spare time – and nearly had running.
“Holy shit,” Brady muttered, “My mother was right. I am white trash.” He could taste bitter resentment on the back of his mouth, and hear his mother’s words in his head.
“You think you’re so much better than me Brady, but it doesn’t matter whether you’re a fag or not, you’ll still be white trash just like me.”
Brady stood there, bouncing Amelia who was chewing on his shirt, thinking about this. His mother was white trash for sure: confederate flags and cigarettes and tramp stamps she got after 40. She’d also tried to steal his hot boyfriend once,
and Brady had retaliated by successfully stealing her boyfriend. Ok, that was trashy.
When Brady shifted again, the plug inside of him hit a particularly nice spot and
he inhaled sharply. Brady had stuffed in after their morning sex, when he didn’t have time to clean out when Amelia started to cry.
“I’m not white trash am I?” Brady asked Amelia, unable to shake this little nagging flea in his ear that said this cute little home he had made for their family in the country was really an illusion and he was just a hick.
Brady frowned. He found his cell phone and called Derrick at work.
“Hi honey,” Derrick answered. Brady smiled. Every time Brady called him at work, Derrick always sounded so delightfully surprised to hear from him.
“Hi Derry,” Brady replied. “How’s work?”
“Going well,” he answered, “We resolved a big land dispute today, so I’m pleased I don’t have to hear the words ‘oil rights’ again today.”
Brady giggled. “Oil is such a funny word.”
“It really is. So what’s up. How’s Amelia?”
“Adorable as usual. I think she’s gonna be teething soon.”
“Oh boy,” Derrick chuckled. “Grouchy baby.”
“Let’s hope not,” Brady replied. “She’s sleeping through the night now.”
“That she is. So…why did you call?’
Brady paced around the kitchen. “Honey, do you think I’m white trash?”
Derrick made a noise like he choked on water. “I’m sorry what?”
“Do you think I’m white trash?”
“Why on Earth would you think that?”
“Cause I’m barefoot in the kitchen with a baby on my hip, I’m listening to Merle Haggard, and we got a car on blocks in the front yard. I think Ol Jim is shooting at squirrels again too. I can hear the noise.”
“Honey,” Derrick repeated. “I don’t think you’re white trash. Why on Earth would you think that? And what’s wrong with being barefoot in the kitchen? It’s summer, and you want to be comfy. Are you still wearing those same jean shorts as when I left?”
“Yeah,” Brody replied, smiling a little.
“Fuck, I love those shorts on you. They make your legs looks so long and your ass pop out.”
“Derry~” Brody said.
“You are a beautiful, strong boy who casted off what the entire world said how a man should be, and you found a slice of happiness in a beautiful place, and I’m so damned lucky to live there and share it with you. You’re caring and sweet and sarcastic; you can fix anything, use a sewing machine, and make the best bread. You’re a competant, talented adult. You’re not white thrash, Brady, you’re white gold.”
Brady sniffled. “Derry that’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me. I needed to hear that. I love you so much.”
“Aww Brady, I wish I could hug you right now.”
“Hug me when you get home?”
“Oh I will,” Derrick swore. “What brought this on by the way?”
“My mom,” Brady admitted.
“Did she call?” Derrick demanded.
“No. I just – you know, she was a crazy bitch. Sometimes she just gets into my head. I worry a lot I’m going to turn out just like her, which makes me especially nervous because I want Amelia to turn out right.”
“Honey, the fact that you think that mean she already will.”
“I hope so,” Brady agreed. “I just, I …well, I think part of me is also a little sad my mother never found a man who took care of her.”
Derrick made a noise in his throat of agreement. “Mmn. But your mother was also not the type of person who would let that kind of man into her life. She craved drama and attention. I think she probably met that man and drove him away.”
“That’s sad too,” Brady said.
“It is,” Derrick agreed. “But she knew her problems and had to fix them herself. You can’t carry her burdens.”
“Oh I won’t. I got enough to carry considering how big Amelia is getting.”
Derrick chuckled. “I can hear her babbling. Are you alright now love? I need to take care of some things here.”
“Oh, sorry, love. I"m fine. I feel…much better now. And uh, also kind of horny.”
“Horny?” Derrick perked up.
“OH yeah, the plug is still in.”
“Shit,” Derrick cursed. “…Did you eat lunch yet?”
“Huh? No, I was just getting to that.”
“Don’t. I’ll bring some BBQ home from Mack’s. I’m gonna take that plug out with my teeth”
It was Brady’s turn to groan. “Bless you.”
Derrick exhaled. “Let me just do this one thing and I’ll head over ok?”
“You betcha, sweetheart. Love you.”
“Love you too. Bye Brody.”
“Bye Derry.”
Brody hung up and smiled. He set the phone down and switched Amelia to the other hip. “You hear that? Daddy’s gonna come home and see you.”
She babbled at him.
“I’m white gold. Did you hear that too? I’m white gold. He’s gonna keep me forever and ever.”
Amelia blinked at him and drooled on his shirt, giving him one of those big breathtaking baby smiles
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Captions are fictional.