My mother didn’t call me until a week after I left. Then, she started calling every day, just to know I was okay. She showed up at the Burton’s to see me but I didn’t want to see her. She also offered the Burtons money to support me, but they refused. They said I was more useful around the house than Faye, who spent her days chatting with her friends on the internet, listening to music and painting. They were happy to have me. And I was glad. I never wanted to be an imposition. My mom came in one the afternoons, tried to explain herself to Mrs. Burton and they talked, like the friends they had always being, trying to help my mother be more understanding.
My dad never called, never showed up with my mom, not once. And I never called him, I never wanted to.
I felt the pressure on my shoulders, trying to keep my head together. Trying not to explode, but how much can someone really take before they blow up? My emotional state became a hurricane, I went from being incredibly sad, to incredibly angry. And the few moments a day I felt in complete tranquility were always interrupted when I saw my mom arrive, asking if she could see me and fix things.
She was trying, I give her props for that, but… I think I was afraid to be honest. They had already hurt me, rejected me, and the mere idea of that happening again, that same sensation of abandonment and pain. I wasn’t ready to face it again. But I did.
Since my parents knew already, being in the closet was pointless, so two weeks after I moved in with the Burtons, I was ready to tell my friends. Scott already knew so that was a plus, and I was confident they would be fine with it. Faye and I asked them to meet us at the stands of the basketball stadium, alone, privately, while everyone else was at the cafeteria.
Scott remained standing with his arms crossed and his mouth twisted trying to look like he didn’t know what this was about. Louise, Mike and Bill sat down while Faye and I stood before them trying to come up with the right words to break such news.
“Guys,” I started, “You know we love you, and we know we should’ve told you this a lot sooner, but it’s a little complicated, you know?”
“What?” Bill asked.
I turned to Faye, who gave me the warmest of smiles and held my hand. I swallowed the fear and finished “Faye and I are dating. We have been dating for a while.”
For a few seconds, everything that could be heard was the whistling of the breeze. Suddenly, Louise stood up, turned to Mike and said “I knew it! Pay up!”
“Goddamn it,” Mike murmured and took a ten out of his pocket.
“You knew?” Faye asked.
“Well, we weren’t completely sure,” Louise answered “I felt there was something going on and I got this feeling, like you guys were doing the dance with no pants, if you get what I’m saying.” She winked and I covered my face with embarrassment.
“So we made a bet,” Mike jumped in “I said you weren’t dating already, but you eventually would. She said you were and you would tell us anytime soon.”
We laughed, the air of relief prevented us from noticing Bill hadn’t said anything. “Bill?” I called out.
He seemed lost, confused “You’re joking, right?”
“What?”
“What are you doing?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve had boyfriends before, so has Faye. What, you’re playing lesbian now?”
I frowned, “We’re not playing anything. I’m lesbian, Faye’s bisexual. You do understand that is a thing that exists, right?”
He stared at us as if he didn’t know us, then stood up and left. Mike and Louise stayed quiet while Scott put his hand on my shoulder and said “It’s probably just the shock. Don’t worry, he’ll be fine.”
I wanted to believe so too, but in the days that followed, things didn’t really get better. Bill stopped having lunch with us and hanging out with us. He would play basketball on his free time and spend his lunch with some kids he never really liked in the first place. Everything seemed to be going wrong, until one day… it went really wrong.
Before I continue, I want you to understand that I am not proud of the way I acted. I could’ve handled things much better, and I should’ve. But I didn’t, that’s what counts.
About a weeks after Bill stopped hanging out with us, he came to our table while we were having lunch and sat next to me without saying a word. We interrupted the conversation waiting for him to say something, but he didn’t. Scott broke the awkward silence by talking about this gorgeous girl he had his eye on.
Bill’s voice cut the conversation short. “Look, I just… being gay is wrong, okay? It goes against what believe.” He sighed and finished “But we can still be friends.”
The stomach acid built up in my stomach until it turned into an anger explosion I couldn’t control. Everything I could hear was my dad saying ‘She’s no daughter of mine’, the way he punched me, the way he looked at me with such a deep sense of… disgust.
The words I said to Bill, Jesus, I can’t take that back, can I? I stood up and replied, “Well, I don’t know. Being black is wrong, it goes against what I believe. But we can still be friends, right?”
Faye grabbed my hands and tried to minimize my attack of anger “Riley, honey you don’t mean that.”
“Why the hell not? I already got enough having to deal with my own parents’ thinking I’m an abomination, I don’t need my friends rejecting me, too.”
I walked away earing as Faye apologized for me “She doesn’t mean that, Bill. Sorry.” Faye came running towards me and tried to stop me but I shook her grip away. “Babe, it’s me… okay?” then whispered. “It’s me.”
That sentence, it saved me. For so many years those were the words I needed to hear to manage to control the anger growing stronger inside of me. To take a deep breath and soften my fists.
I stood still and Faye took that as a sign to come closer and hold me from behind. “I’m just tired of being… being disappointing. I’m tired.”
“I know, baby.”
Faye hugged me and that was it. I wasn’t angry anymore.
It would be years before I spoke to Bill again. We drifted apart. He stopped hanging out with us, can’t say I blame him He made new friends, and we decided not to mention the incident again. I wanted to apologize for what I’d said but apologizing took a certain amount of ownership and bravery I didn’t have at that age.
I spent many Saturdays and Sundays helping Mr. Burton lay the foundations for the third floor. He would show me the blueprints and I would try to answer his architecture questions with the knowledge he had imparted in me.
“Now,” he said, showing me how to install a light socket “This is where the electric cable will come through and connect to the other end there,” he explained.
“Oh, I see, I see.” I look back at the empty space that would soon enough become a third floor and asked “Mr. Burton?”
“Riley, if you call me Mr. Burton again, I’m grounding you.”
I gave him a shy smile, “Sorry, dad. What are you planning to do with this floor? Are you and Mrs. Burton planning on expanding the family?”
He straightened up and thought about it. “You could say that.” I tilted my head and he took that as a sign elaborated “When you marry Faye, which you will because I’m not letting my daughter wind up with some good for nothing skater that will not take care of her,” he said it part joking, part serious “I was thinking that Barbara and I could get a smaller place and leave you guys this house for you to fill with spoiled little kids.”
“Dad, I’m seventeen, that’s not gonna happen for a while.”
“So? I was nineteen when I married Barb and by the time we were twenty three Faye was already on her way. And I’m not saying it will happen tomorrow, but I like to plan ahead. It’s one of the reasons I decided to become an architect.”
“What do you mean?”
“A house, a building, they are nothing but a pile of bricks, glass and concrete. But what you can build inside those bricks; that is what really matters, that is what makes life meaningful. I wanted to give people a place where they could build their dreams into life.”
After he finished telling me one of the most important things I would ever hear, he started singing the song he always sang when he worked. He had a thick melodic voice as he recited the words to heart, wise men say only fools rush in, but I can’t help falling in love with you.
I imagined myself getting home from work to my loving wife; eating dinner together, watching a movie, giving her a massage, and falling sleep after making love. I imagined barbeque Sundays and pizza Fridays. I imagined getting the positive on the pregnancy test, or maybe getting the call from the adopting agency telling us they found us a baby. Throwing our dog a bone through the yard in a sunny day while Faye sits drinking lemonade. I imagined this great future together, the future we were supposed to have.
A month after I moved in with the Burton’s, something amazing happened. My dad came by. I was working on a present for Faye, I wanted to give her a music box and Mr. Burton had given me a few ideas on how to make it, how to paint it and how the entire mechanics of it worked together. I was sitting in from of my desk polishing the corners of the box, making sure it was nice and smooth when Mrs. Burton knocked.
“Riley?”
“Yeah,” I spoke up still working on the wooden box.
“Darling, your parents are here.”
I exited the shed and walked up to the front door where my mom and dad stood next to each other. My father kept his eyes on the ground while licking his lips, almost compulsively. As if my mom would’ve forced him to do this.
“What are you guys doing here?” I asked.
“You’re our daughter, honey” My mother answered. So much love in her words.
I wanted to say, you haven’t really acted like my parents lately, but Mrs. Burton wouldn’t have approved. And no matter what, I loved them… even if they didn’t love me.
“Come home, honey…” my mother whispered, there was pain and a fading sense of begging in her voice.”
“I don’t… you threw me out!”
My mom looked at my dad, wanting him to intervene. My father was always a proud man, and I watched that pride slip away as he started. “Riley, you are my daughter, and I am sorry that I made you feel unwelcomed in your own home. I’m sorry. I love you.”
I peeked at Mrs. Burton for advice and everything I could see on her eyes was that I had to make that decision on my own. I nodded at my parents and said “I’ll go pick up my stuff.”
I packed everything feeling nostalgic. I had grown used to them in a month and saying goodbye was not easy, but necessary. I kissed Faye in the lips in front of my dad, and hugged Mr. and Mrs. Burton. I thanked them for the incredible kindness and support, they reminded me I was a daughter to them and they would always be there for me.
Things didn’t improve between my father and I, but he kept his distance from my relationship with Faye, and I behaved like the well-spoken, sweet daughter he wanted. My mom, on the other hand, read about homosexuality, what to do and how to cope with having a gay kid. It was hard for her, but she was trying, and eventually she grew used to Faye holding my hand when she went to pick me up to go for pizza or to play paintball. She even asked how things were going between us and gave me solid advice when we were having issues.
Mrs. Burton and my mother remained the close friends they always had been, and my mother asked her how she coped with Faye being gay. Mrs. Burton said she never had a problem with gay people and she always encourage Faye to be who she is. It was very helpful for my mother to have someone to talk to.
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