“Seriously though,” I threw the football at him. “How is Manhattan?”
Scott caught the ball and threw it back at me “Horrible, it’s super expensive, there’s always traffic and people are rude. I live in Brooklyn and Brooklyn is not too bad but I can’t wait to get back home.”
We were on my back yard throwing the ball from side to side while we talked about school, girls and other various completely useless information. Scott was studying Business at NYU. He was going to come back home to take over his father’s dealership so the old man could rest, or so Scott said. He was looking forward to be back. Scott is a small town boy, he doesn’t like big cities with too much traffic, or wasting an hour of his life just to get to places.
“By the way, how are things going with Faye? Is studying in the same place making things harder?”
“Nah, man, we’re great. We don’t even share a dorm or a class so it’s not really like that. Plus, I can’t get tired of Faye, she’s just too fucking perfect.”
Scoot laughed. “Yeah, remind yourself that in ten years when she’s nagging you about how you can’t put your feet on the coffee table and when she says ‘Honey, I’ve got a head ache, let’s just go to bed’.”
I cracked up. “If that ever happens, something is going wrong. I’m telling you. We’re fine.”
Scott smile and said “Yeah, I know. All jokes aside, I’m really happy for you guys. Three years already.”
“Going for the fourth one.”
I caught the football in time for my dad to come to the back yard to say “Riley, you have a visit.”
I turned to Scott. “A visit?”
I threw the ball back at Scott and asked him to wait for me, he nodded and I went inside. I walked into my living room to find a man talking to my mother, all dressed in black. When he turned around I knew why. A priest.
“Father Ryan, this is my daughter Riley.”
I had seen father Ryan a couple of times at church, but I’m not particularly interested in church so I didn’t give much importance to him. Now he was sitting in my living room, and my dad said he was ‘visiting me’.
“Hello, Riley.”
He looked young, probably on his late twenties, early thirties. Brown hair, brown eyes, soft smile. “Hey,” I turned to my dad “Dad, what’s this?”
“You said you needed help.”
I looked at my mom, who looked down, pursed her lips and shook her head with disapproval in an almost imperceptible way. She didn’t agree to this, but my dad does what he wants.
Father Ryan looked back at me and said, “I think it’s very brave of you to look for help, Riley. The first step is accepting it.”
“What? What are you…? When I asked my parents for help I didn’t mean a priest. No offense.”
“I assure you, Riley, I’m more than qualified to help you. With the Lord’s help everything is possible.”
I felt ill. I had to go back to the yard and ask Scott to leave, he asked if everything was okay and I answered it never was. He seemed worried, so I promised to call him that night. Scott left through the side of the house as I went back inside.
I stared at my parents trying to figure out what to do. My dad’s not going to give up just because so I thought the best thing to do was to give it a chance. Maybe he was right, maybe that’s what I needed. And if it didn’t work, we could move on to other things. I agreed to talk to Father Ryan so he could ‘give me the guidance I needed’ and maybe help me control my rage fits.
My mom and dad left the living room to us. My mother brought us ice tea and reminded me I could stop this the instant I wanted. I was okay, it was just a conversation with a religious person who, may I say, are not particularly accepting of who I am.
I watched Father Ryan sit on the sofa across from mine saying it helped him when he could look directly into someone’s eyes. Yes, say that, won’t you? Because that doesn’t sound disturbing at all. He leaned over and pressed his elbows on his thighs, probably to show me I could be just as comfortable with this conversation as he was. Doesn’t work like that. I remained in my arms-crossed-legs-crossed rigid position.
“Do you want to start, Riley?”
“I don’t know how to start.” I shrugged.
“Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”
“I’ve been… having some issues.”
“Okay…” he said encouraging me to continue. I couldn’t.
“Didn’t my dad tell you anything?”
“He told me plenty. He told me about your sexual orientation,” Of course he did. “And your relationship with Faye Burton. He told me it worried him because it’s being two years and you haven’t… grown out of it.”
“Grown out of it,” I repeated “My sexual orientation is not something you can grow out of…”
“His words.”
“What about your words.”
“That is not important, Riley. I’m just an instrument of God. He speaks, I listen.”
“Okay, what does God say?”
He smile “What he always says. He tells me how much He loves you and how I must help you.”
“I see.”
“Your father also said that is not why you asked for help. You’ve been having a few problems with anger, yes?” I nodded “When did they start?”
Father Ryan was trying, I can tell that. But I didn’t feel comfortable, or safe, not enough to trust him.
“Not sure. Look, don’t get this the wrong way but I don’t think you can help me.”
“Because you’re not letting me, Riley. Just talk to me, about anything.”
“Like?”
“You can start with this Faye Burton.”
“Faye is not the problem, I am.”
“What do you mean?”
I snorted, growing more and more frustrated with him. There was something in his voice that sounds condescending, all-knowing. I didn’t like it, and I didn’t trust it.
“Father…”
“Just Ryan, please.”
“Ryan, I don’t think this is going to work out. I need someone I can trust, someone that has nothing to do with my family or my dad’s church. Someone I’m not being judged by.”
“Do you feel judged by me?”
I smiled “Are you okay with me being gay?”
“It doesn’t matter if I am, God is the only one who can―”
“I’m not asking God, I’m asking you. Do you think that being gay it’s okay.”
He pursed his lips and replied slowly, as if trying not to scare me off “The bible is very clear about gay people.”
In that sentence I saw my father’s rejection, my friend’s rejection, the world’s rejection and I felt angry.
“Yeah, it is. Thank you.” I said, standing up.
“Riley, where are you going?”
“I’m going to see my girl. We’re probably gonna hold hands and everything. You know, all the bad stuff.”
He sighed but didn’t try to stop me as I grabbed my coat and walked out of the house. I shoved my hands in my pockets and walked slowly down the street feeling the snow creak under my feet. It hadn’t snowed that whole day but the air was still cold and moist.
In that twenty minute walk, my brain went through every bad memory I had, every resentment I was holding to in my chest. My father trying to convince us that sending Connor to the military was out of love, every time he rejected me, that time he punched me. How helpless I felt… and how I feel now.
I knocked on the Burton’s door. Faye opened and I hugged her immediately. Her parents weren’t home, they were out buying everything they were going to need for the New Year’s Eve party they were throwing. We held hands, just as I told Ryan, just as we always did, and went to the shed that had once being my bedroom. Everything was, more or less, the way I left it. Except the cooler was actually filled with Dr. Pepper. Faye grabbed a can and handed one to me. We laid on the bed with our backs to the header.
I took a sip of the soda and she placed her hand on my leg “Something’s bothering you,” she said.
“Yeah, well. I told my parents about my anger problem.”
“That’s great, Riley. I’m so proud of you.”
“And my dad got me a priest after I specifically requested a therapist.”
Faye twisted her mouth trying to, as always, find the positive side. “Well, maybe is not such a bad idea, it could even work.”
“I just came from talking the guy.”
She smiled with tenderness and said “It only pissed you off more, didn’t it?”
“Yes! Thank you!” she laughed and I laughed with her. “It was so awkward.”
“What did you do?”
“I stood up and told him I was going to see my girl.”
“That never gets old, does it?” She said giving me short kisses.
“What?”
“Your girl.”
I grinned “No, it doesn’t.”
I placed my hand on her lap and pulled her closer to kiss her lips. She smelled of vanilla. Maybe coconut due to her shampoo. As my fingers sank into her hair, its softness rubbed against my fingers. She pressed her hands against my back and forced me to get on top of her. Her breathing was rhythmic and deep. I left her mouth to focus on kissing her neck and…
“Faye?” we heard someone calling from the house “Honey?”
“Shoot!” She said trying not to raise her voice “My dad.”
I got off of her and sat on the edge of the bed to flatten out my clothes. We stood up and opened the door to walk out the shed. Mr. Burton was standing by the back entrance holding what looked like a root beer.
“Hey girls.” He said, if he saw any sign at all of what we were doing, he didn’t say anything. “Ry, wanna come in and help with the turkey?”
“Yeah, sure.”
We walked into the kitchen to find Mrs. Burton unpacking everything for their Christmas Eve. She was the head of the entire operation and gave each of us a very punctual task. I was in charge of drinks while Mr. Burton and Faye were in charge of the side dishes. Mrs. Burton gave me the recipe for an Agua Fresca, which was a mixture of fruits and some vegetables. She also gave me the recipe for a Piña Colada, for the grown-ups, as she called it. We left everything set for the next day and before I went home, they asked when I’d be by to pick up my turkey. Normally, they have their Christmas dinner and the day afterwards, they’ll use the leftover to make the best ever leftover sandwich.
I walked home a bit past seven, with my hands on my pockets, ready for the lecture I was sure awaited me.
I closed the front door of my home to run into perfect silence. If my eyes wouldn’t have laid on my parents as soon as I came in, I would’ve thought the house was empty. My dad was sitting in the couch, in front of the TV, watching football in mute. Mom was in the kitchen, making hot cocoa.
I cleared my throat and said “Hey, dad.”
He looked up, pretending he hadn’t heard the noise the door made when it closed “Hey, Riley.”
“Sorry about father…” what was his name?
“That’s fine.”
I frowned “It is?”
He didn’t reply, he simply nodded and as bad as that looked, I also knew it could’ve gone a lot worse. I walked into the kitchen to check on mom. “Hey, sweetie” she said while pulling out the cups to serve the hot cocoa.
“Why is…” I lowered my voice “Why is dad not angry at my walking out on the priest?”
She smiled “Oh, he was. But then I reminded him that you didn’t ask for a priest, you asked for a therapist. He had nothing else to do but swallow his proud.”
“Thanks, mom.”
“Of course, honey. Want cocoa?”
I nodded and helpedher with the four cups.
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I really hope you guys are enjoying my story. Means a lot to me that you take time out of your life to read so thanks a lot. See you next time!
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