Sequel: Dear August ›
August
...
I had made it through the first quarter and my first trimester. The next enemy on my list was the world. See, not only did I get to big for all of my clothes again, but I was starting to show and it was starting to be a problem. Someone in my gym class even said something about it and that's when I knew to go shopping. I used to find buying clothes fun, but it ended up just being a hassle and expensive. Yet, I would rather be doing this then riding the bus, seeing as how Pete is getting busier again now that he has his car. Although, I can't say I didn't mind picking out a tux for the dance…
"Is it on sale?" I asked my mom as she held up a Hurley t-shirt.
"Brendon it's ok- we have enough money. You don't need to worry honey," She folded the shirt up and went to looking at hoodies.
"I just know we're going to have to do this again in a few months, that's all. Why can't we go to Savers' again?" I picked at some tags and cringed seeing the price.
"Aw," my mom brushed some hair out of my face, "I guess we can just buy it a size or two bigger then what you'll need."
"No, I don't want to look even fatter!" I huffed and then felt lower on self confidence then I ever had before.
"Oh you won't. That reminds me… are you getting any stretch marks?" She looked down to my stomach and I thought of the marks that could have been drawn into my ever widening skin.
"Nah, not that I can tell."
"Well, just in case, we'll get you some cocoa butter," She started walking away towards the dressing rooms.
"Sounds delicious." I said sarcastically. We stopped by the doors and the employee finished hanging up a t-shirt, then unlocked a dressing room.
About halfway through trying on pants and what-not my mom answered a phone call. And within seconds the conversation was alarming, so I stripped off my shirt and pulled the other one on. Taking one last look at the clothing I grumbled.
"What's up mom?"
"Bren, someone broke into the house." She gripped her purse a little tighter and my jaw fell open, "Dad's there now talking to the police. So we can finish our shopping and go home later." My mom looked me in the eyes and I shook my head.
"I want to just go home." I looked down and then back up at her. She pulled my head into her chest and kissed the top of my head. We then stopped and smiled at each other.
The car ride home was mostly silent and we passed a few neighbors perfecting their Halloween decorations. Most of our surroundings looked relatively normal, but when we pulled into our drive way… our house was a mess. I stepped out of the car to see our potted plants were overturned and broken, the mailbox was crushed in and their was spray paint on the side of our house.
Fag.
One. Word.
One of the most embarrassing words.
You'd think I'd be used to getting the occasional fag or queer by now and you'd think one of our neighbors would have seen it go down. That or at least heard the dumb-ass(es). See, people know I'm gay now but, I'm not screaming so they don't really bother with me; at least not like they do to Ryan. As I looked around my heartbeat got faster and as I looked at my dad and mom talk to the officer my throat closed up. It wasn't a feeling of crying, more or less defeat. As I stared at the trio the lawn they stared back. And then I realized they had to tell the man I was the one the word was directed at.
Although, the only problem with this certain emotion is there's no way to explain it to other people who don't know the whole story. On the surface I wanted to rip my room apart, and maybe something like overturning my bed, but no- I can't lift anything that's heavy. Deep down on the inside I wanted a silent relief only for me to see and feel, almost like an intimacy with- myself. Yeah, I wanted to get rid of my feelings without anyone noticing and then excessively trying to pry.
Despite all my pain I'm still just a rat in a cage…
Sighing, I walked across my lawn avoiding the officer, up the flight of stairs, to my room, locked the door, and went into my bathroom. I sat down on the edge of the tub, then pacing I ended up on my bed. The routine lasted until about midnight. By that point my mom had checked on my for the last and about fifth time, she said she was going to bed and I shouldn't be scared about anything. Taking one more look at the bathroom door it beamed with light.
I got up and stood in front of the mirror and finally lifting up my shirt I had made a decision. The razor pressed lightly against the skin on my upper ribs, just under the arm-pit and cut in quickly. I gasped and it dug into my sides again. After a few more I felt relief sinking in and I suddenly felt tiredness come to the back of my eyelids. Soon after cleaning myself up I crawled up onto the bed and passed out.
"Is it on sale?" I asked my mom as she held up a Hurley t-shirt.
"Brendon it's ok- we have enough money. You don't need to worry honey," She folded the shirt up and went to looking at hoodies.
"I just know we're going to have to do this again in a few months, that's all. Why can't we go to Savers' again?" I picked at some tags and cringed seeing the price.
"Aw," my mom brushed some hair out of my face, "I guess we can just buy it a size or two bigger then what you'll need."
"No, I don't want to look even fatter!" I huffed and then felt lower on self confidence then I ever had before.
"Oh you won't. That reminds me… are you getting any stretch marks?" She looked down to my stomach and I thought of the marks that could have been drawn into my ever widening skin.
"Nah, not that I can tell."
"Well, just in case, we'll get you some cocoa butter," She started walking away towards the dressing rooms.
"Sounds delicious." I said sarcastically. We stopped by the doors and the employee finished hanging up a t-shirt, then unlocked a dressing room.
About halfway through trying on pants and what-not my mom answered a phone call. And within seconds the conversation was alarming, so I stripped off my shirt and pulled the other one on. Taking one last look at the clothing I grumbled.
"What's up mom?"
"Bren, someone broke into the house." She gripped her purse a little tighter and my jaw fell open, "Dad's there now talking to the police. So we can finish our shopping and go home later." My mom looked me in the eyes and I shook my head.
"I want to just go home." I looked down and then back up at her. She pulled my head into her chest and kissed the top of my head. We then stopped and smiled at each other.
The car ride home was mostly silent and we passed a few neighbors perfecting their Halloween decorations. Most of our surroundings looked relatively normal, but when we pulled into our drive way… our house was a mess. I stepped out of the car to see our potted plants were overturned and broken, the mailbox was crushed in and their was spray paint on the side of our house.
Fag.
One. Word.
One of the most embarrassing words.
You'd think I'd be used to getting the occasional fag or queer by now and you'd think one of our neighbors would have seen it go down. That or at least heard the dumb-ass(es). See, people know I'm gay now but, I'm not screaming so they don't really bother with me; at least not like they do to Ryan. As I looked around my heartbeat got faster and as I looked at my dad and mom talk to the officer my throat closed up. It wasn't a feeling of crying, more or less defeat. As I stared at the trio the lawn they stared back. And then I realized they had to tell the man I was the one the word was directed at.
Although, the only problem with this certain emotion is there's no way to explain it to other people who don't know the whole story. On the surface I wanted to rip my room apart, and maybe something like overturning my bed, but no- I can't lift anything that's heavy. Deep down on the inside I wanted a silent relief only for me to see and feel, almost like an intimacy with- myself. Yeah, I wanted to get rid of my feelings without anyone noticing and then excessively trying to pry.
Despite all my pain I'm still just a rat in a cage…
Sighing, I walked across my lawn avoiding the officer, up the flight of stairs, to my room, locked the door, and went into my bathroom. I sat down on the edge of the tub, then pacing I ended up on my bed. The routine lasted until about midnight. By that point my mom had checked on my for the last and about fifth time, she said she was going to bed and I shouldn't be scared about anything. Taking one more look at the bathroom door it beamed with light.
I got up and stood in front of the mirror and finally lifting up my shirt I had made a decision. The razor pressed lightly against the skin on my upper ribs, just under the arm-pit and cut in quickly. I gasped and it dug into my sides again. After a few more I felt relief sinking in and I suddenly felt tiredness come to the back of my eyelids. Soon after cleaning myself up I crawled up onto the bed and passed out.