Kidnapped

"I don't understand, honey. What did you do wrong? How could they expel you just like this? Look what the headmaster had written here - for posing a threat to the other students. What does that even mean? You didn't hit anyone, did you? No, that couldn't be, I know my baby, you literally wouldn't hurt a fly..." Mom went on and on, clutching the expulsion letter, red in the face.

He shook my head. "No, I didn't hurt anyone."

"Then what is it? Tell me. I know it couldn't be anything serious - I know you. Tell me, and I'll argue your case with that prick of a headmaster and he'll let you back in."

He looked at his mother. She'll understand. She has always been there for me, always had my back, he thought.

"Mom?"

"Yes dear," she said anxiously.

"...You'll forgive me no matter what? You'll accept me for who I am?"

"Of course, dear," she replied, exasperated. "I'm your mother."

Okay. Deep breath.” I’m gay.”

“Wait. What? No.” she laughed forcefully. “Stop joking, around, now.”

“I’m serious,” He tried to keep the tears in, but they were already spilling over. He felt like a disappointment to the family. He felt like an abomination.

“You…you like guys.”

“Yes.”

“…It’s just a phase. It’s a phase you’ll grow out of.” She nodded to herself. She looked at him almost pleadingly. Right? Her eyes seemed to ask.

He thought of saying yes, mom, don’t worry about me, a few years from now I’ll like girls again. Let’s pretend I didn’t say anything. But he didn’t feel like lying. Once she realized that it was inevitable, she would be okay with it. He told himself.

“I’m…pretty sure it’s not a phase. I’ve liked guys all my life, and I am a hundred percent sure that I will only ever like guys.”

“But, but.” She felt like something was off here. They were so close – how could she not have suspected a thing? “You don’t act like a girl or anything. Shouldn’t gay people be more…like Kurt. Kurt from Glee? You know, with a high-pitched voice, a love of fashion, obsessed with appearance, preferring singing and dancing over football…” she argued. What she was thinking - hoping - was 'Maybe you aren’t actually gay? Maybe you’re confused?'

“Mom, not all gay people are like that.”

“…Get out of my house,” she said quietly.

“Mom.”

“Didn’t you hear me? GET OUT OF MY HOUSE.” She grabbed him by the wrist and began pulling him towards the door. “From today onwards, you’re no longer my son. I can’t have a scandal like this in the family. What will the people from Church say? What will God say? I don’t want to see you ever again.”

“No, mom. No. Please.” He got onto his knees. Tears continued to stream down his face uncontrollably. “Please. I’m sorry. I’ll change, mom, I’ll change. I promise.”

"How can I trust you? You lied to me. You lied to me for nineteen years. Get out. GET OUT."

"No mom - please. Think about it - what will people say if they found out you kicked me out? They'll want to know why. And dad - what are you going to tell him? Please mom - I'll change. Please don't abandon me..."

“You’ll keep this…thing…under control? You’ll try to become normal again?”

“Yes, mom.” He lied. As if his sexual orientation was something he could control.

“I don’t ever want to see you alone with a boy. Not a word to your dad. Don’t ever bring this up again.”

“I won’t.” he said, wiping his tears.

“If you break the rules, I WILL kick you out of the house.”

He nodded.

“…Very well, then.” She glared at him suspiciously, unconvinced. “Now go to your room. I don’t want to see your face.”

I love you too, mom. He sighed. But just as he was about to go up the stairs –

“Wait.” He turned back round hopefully.

“I – I just – come here. Come here.” She pulled him into a hug and rested her head onto his shoulders; within seconds, it was completely drenched with tears.

“I- I’m sorry. But I just d-don’t un-understand,” she hiccupped. “W-What did I do wrong? I prayed t-to God every night. I - I told Him I don’t want anything, except for the three of us to be healthy and h-happy. It’s not fair. Why is He punishing u-us like this? Why? I thought I was a good mother. I thought I raised you right. But why?”

He felt as though someone had stabbed him in the heart. He stroked her back gently, and tried to keep his own tears from spilling over again. “It’s not your fault, mom. Please – it’s not your fault. It’s mine. I’m so, so sorry.”