Now What?

I’m not going to sit here and tell you my life’s shitty and that I hate everyone in my family, or my home-life sucks and I have to hide who I really am.

No, it isn’t like that. Home isn’t bad anymore, and I love my mom to death. I came out about two years ago, and Mom has been on my side from the very beginning.

It had been a pretty shitty day, though. I had never really had a boyfriend, but sometimes, Tyler would come over and we’d make out in my room. That day, him and his hot body and just decided to climb right on top of me on my bed. He didn’t care if anyone knew that he was gay, so when I tried to push him away at the sound of footsteps, he wouldn’t stop kissing me.

My door opened and Dad, all 6 foot 5 and 240 pounds of him, looked in, but immediately shut the door. That’s when Tyler stopped, and his eyes burned into mine with something of fear deep inside.

“You fucking idiot.”

He flinched at this, and frowning, he asked, “Would you like for me to leave??”

“Duh.” But I sort of felt bad… Then again, I didn’t even really like the guy. He had just been there for me a long time, and when I told him I wasn’t into girls, he admitted the same.

With one short nod that made his blond hair bounce, he left my room, almost crashing into Mom outside the room. He scooted around her tiny frame with an apology, and she stepped in after him.

“Hey honey.” She said, closing the door behind her. I managed a small half-smile, and she sat next to me on my bed. She was about 5 foot 3, over a foot shorter than my father, and at that time, I was exactly 6 feet tall. “Your dad…he’s really upset.” She could see the anger in my brown eyes. We had the same ones.

“No, he’s pissed.”

“Reed…”

Staring at the hardwood floor and grinding my teeth together, I forced out, “He shouldn’t just walk in like that. Why the hell didn’t he knock?”

Dad was going to pound me in the face, and I knew it.

Mom must have seen, or expected, it, because she said, “I would never let him hurt you, Reed.”

And I honestly thought she was a liar and that she didn’t give a shit about me when it came to Dad.

Then he burst in the room, saying, “What the hell was that?” But he didn’t give me time to answer; instead, he marched right up to me and began yelling in my face. “You gettin’ some ass since you can’t get any p—“

“John Christopher Wilkins. He is our son. Do not—“

I would have smiled at her if Dad hadn’t interrupted. “Tracy, this has nothing to do with you—“

“How does it have more to do with you than me?”

“He is my son.”

“Excuse me? I believe he is our son.” She was glaring up at him with those pretty brown eyes. Her brown hair hung down her back, loose and messy, and I think that was the first time I had ever admired my mother.

"Guys. I'm gay, okay?" Since I hadn't been looking at anything in particular, I then looked up at my father and stared him straight in his hard face. "Yes, Dad, I prefer the male sex."

Nostrils flared, face flushed, he angrily growled, "You're just confused."

I shook my head but Mom spoke. "Now stop that, Chris. He is capable of making his own decisions. Whoever and whatever he wants—“

“Shut the hell up!”

“Don’t talk to your own wife like that—“ I had stood to my feet, but was almost immediately knocked down from his knuckles’ impact on my face. He stalked out, and my mother followed him in desperate anger with a shrill scream of his name.

I fell on my bed, perplexed and exasperated, but soon got back up and began folding clothes into a suitcase. I was only 16…where will I go? I thought nervously. They were screaming. I knew she wouldn’t fight for me…at least I tried to convince myself that I knew that. There was that little sliver of hope.

They stood in my doorway a few minutes later, and at the same time that my dad said, “Finish packing and leave,” Mom muttered, “Get out.”

I had felt completely hopeless then, knowing I had lost my only hope of staying here. Fear and hatred boiled inside of me. Who I hated was my dad; I had never hated Mom. Ever.

Then it occurred to me that she might not have been referring to me. I whirled around and tears were running down her cheeks.

“I will not have a faggot living in my house.”

The word made me flinch, and Mom’s eyes widened at her husband. She turned around, gathered up the balls, and screamed, “Get out of this house!”

He blinked once, confused.

“GET OUT! ” I had never heard my mother scream that loud before.

Frowning, he backed away. I couldn’t see Mom’s face, for her back was towards me, but her face must have been furious.

He left, and I knew Mom was risking her happiness all for me. Back then, I thought it was all a joke. As time passed, I began to realize just who my mother really was. She didn’t give a shit what anyone thought about her, unless it had to do with me, her only child.

I wouldn’t hurt her. I’d kill myself before I’d ever hurt her.

Okay, I did care, but If I was truly serious I guess I’d be dead by now.