My Boy Hood

The party was over, and it was decided that we would stay a while until majority of the cars cleared out. Sam left to the restroom and Dad was still gone. I was by myself beside this huge mirror. Every few seconds I’d find myself looking over, staring at the girl who couldn’t get rid of the stupid grin on her face.

The smile disappeared when I saw my mother walk to my side, “I see that you enjoyed yourself thoroughly tonight.”

“Yes.” I said, voice tight.

I continued to look into the mirror, trying to keep my mind cleared of any thoughts. “You look very beautiful tonight. You’re starting to become a marvelous lady.”

I didn’t say anything, but somehow we met eyes and she continued in a soft voice, “You don’t have to live the way you do, Nickole. You don’t have to pretend to be something you’re not. You could go to parties such as this all the time and dance with as many men as you like.”

“I supposed that wouldn’t be a great idea, since you only danced with one boy.”

“Two.” I corrected, “I danced with two.”

“Either way,” she continued, “The life your father is putting you in will not last long, but you already knew about that didn’t you? What are you waiting for? Why are you following through with this?”

I knew there would be a day that I’d get caught, but I didn’t want to be the cause of it. I want to talk sense into my father, and tell him my life could be any way that I wanted it. I just needed proof to show him.

I didn’t want to do that while going back to my mother. She didn’t necessarily press on certain fields I should take, but whatever I chose had to be ‘reasonable’ to her. Breakdancing was not one of them, and going into a world of modern culture really puts her on edge. I remember a time she tried putting me through ballet, but I started skipping classes which left no hope to me wearing a tutu for a career.

I suppose her thinking of a music and arts industry to be an orchestra and twirling on your toes. The boring, noncreative stuff because they were traditional and you knew what to expect. Breakdancing you could come up with a million ways of doing a dance, and it didn’t involve the repetition of most moves.

I just sighed, “My life now is a lot better than it has been before.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Thanks to Dad, I’ve met teammates who became my friends. Though one of them knows my secret now, I can trust him more. Even if I must hide the fact that I’m a girl, I can still be myself around them. They treat me well for the person I am. If they knew who I really was, they’d see me as Ronda Johnson’s daughter, not Nickole Clayton.”

“I see. It seems you have good friends.” She commented.

“Ma’am.” A voice cut in.

We turned to see an older man with a Bluetooth in his ear. He seemed to be in a hurry. “Yes, Rob?”

“The next flight leaves in twenty minutes. We must leave.”

She nodded, looked to the right, and turned to me, “I can see you’re in good hands now. Take good care of her, Don. Samuel.”

She walked away with Rob without a goodbye. That was how she was, always busy, and rushing to get things done. I saw Dad and Sam together, but what really dawned on me was that Mom knew Sam’s name. They came over, and Sam took my arm to lead me out of the building.

“How does she know you?” I asked.

Sam just chuckled as we walked to the limo, “You’re not the only one with secrets, you know.”

We sat next to each other in the limo. I felt stupid for asking, but he continued, “But since you told me a secret, it wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t tell you one of my own…”

He leaned closed to my ear, and whispered so low that I had to strain to listen. My eyes widened in shock as he said a simple sentence that was his biggest secret of all. “Do the others know?”

He shook his head, “My own father doesn’t know about me.”

“How did you find out?” I couldn’t help but ask.

“I just happened to come across some files my mother had. Did research. I actually asked her once, but she refused to answer. She never really said yes, but she didn’t deny it either. That was the only answer I needed.”

I could see a sad look come across his face. I took his hand and squeezed. He never met his father, yet he knew who he was. He could have met him multiple times, but chose not to. It was still hard to believe, but I also thought of the best answers I could give him, “It’s better to know who your father is, even if that meant you never actually spoke to him.”

“True.” He said, smiling.

I was glad he told me, it made me feel that he could trust me some. I mean, it’s not every day that you’d hear news from a friend, especially when you’re convinced he’s a guy but turns out to be a girl. Not only that, but giving away the secret that your father is actually the mayor of the town, and your father doesn’t even know you exist.

So, I’m not the only one with a load on my plate.