When I was little I would sit and stare at the TV and hope something tragic would happen to me. I’d pray to God that maybe I’d be kidnapped and held for ransom. To be fair I didn’t know what rape and murder was so I thought all kidnaps were about ransom. Or maybe my parents would get back together because I had a secret twin.
Sometimes I’d sit outside in the grass with my best friends and make up lies trying to be interesting. I’d always been the weird kid. I was diagnosed with obsessive compulsive disorder when I was four. And no not the cute “I want all my shoes in order and a clean room! I’m so cute.” That’s quirky TV obsessive compulsive disorder. I wish I was so lucky. Nope. While people were outside playing I was ripping my eyelashes out so my baby sister wouldn’t die. Fun fact. I didn’t have a baby sister at the time. But I’d convinced myself the unborn baby that didn’t exist yet would die if I ate anything orange.
Needless to say. I was fucking weird. Growing up in the south with mental illness.... Sorry for my frankness- Jesus FUCKING Christ. I might as well been a witch in the Salem witch trials. And then when I was around thirteen I came out. Well I didn’t come out, I was shoved out. If you’re straight and still reading I’ll explain what coming out means. And why the joke about me being shoved out is funny. I’m gay.
I’ve probably lost about 60% of the readers. I promise this book gets.... actually it gets worse so yeah. Anyway- back to the pushing out moment. Ya see the thing is, in the summer of 2007 something actually happened to me. My medication was straightened out, and I started acting kind of normal. Well normal for a set amount of hours. And the best thing ever.... I became beautiful. Suddenly people who use to think I was weird suddenly thought I was interesting.
I started acting out because I was finally cool. I smoked a little weed and did a bump of cocaine once or ten times. I tried out for cheerleading and became a queer leader. Yeah. I was that typical gay guy with six white girls as friends and yes all with a name that started with a K.
My parents could see I was spiraling. You’d think. Nope. They did not. My mother thought “finally he’s normal and fitting in.” And my father was always working so as long I was at the dinner table before sneaking out he didn’t care. I should mention my parents were divorced. My father had soul custody and I saw my mother on the weekends. Most of the time. She liked to drink so.... well I’m foreshadowing now.
So anyway- at the end of 8th grade year our school did this thing where we all went to the water park as a treat for going into high school. And I had been secretly texting this guy Chris. Like sexting and everything. The Razor had just come out and I had one... yes I know. I was hot shit. So the morning of the water park I went out to our laundry room to grab my baiting suit and our nanny had locked the door behind me. Probably not on purpose but... who knows? I knocked and knocked but she was busy. So I just shimmied up the landing and in through my window. I changed, went to the water park, had a GREAT day. But all came crashing down when I returned home. Because ya see: I FORGOT TO PUT THE FUCKING SCREEN BACK ON MY WINDOW!!!!
I walked in and my mother and father were standing there. Why was my mother sober and at my fathers house? Why wasn’t my father at work.
“Give me your phone.” My mother said. They accused me of sneaking out. Which I had been. But that was none of their fucking business. Why were they even in the same room together?
“Sure.” I’d said. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. I have texts to delete!!!!! As I was trying she snatched it away.
My father had a drink in his hand and was silent. He didn’t ever punish me. He just gave that look. You know the one? Where it’s like “god you disgust me.”
As my mother was going through my phone she got this funny look on her face and looked up smiling.
“So do you have anything to tell me?” She asked taking a seat on the formal living room sofa. I don’t think I’d ever seen anyone sit on it before. I decided to stay standing.
“Nope.” I flashed my new pretty smile they both had bought me. But her eyes narrowed. God she was pretty. Her long black hair and blue eyes. Sure she had Shitty bangs but they worked for her. Everything about her was polished. I assume that’s why my father fucked her. But she was a bitch. And that’s why he left her. So I assume. He never spoke of her.
“Are you sure?” She smiled with a smile prettier than mine looking down at my phone and back up at me.
“Positive.”
“Interesting. Who is Chris?”
LIE LIE LIE LIE.
“Oh that’s my friend Kaitlyn’s boyfriend. Her parents took away her phone.” True! “And so she texts her boyfriend from my phone sometimes.” Shut up. Too many details.
My mother was unphased. And then her face did this weird thing I’d never seen. And she calmly set my phone down.
“This Kaitlyn. Her boyfriend calls her ‘baby boy?’”
Fuck ME!!!!!! My father still silently sipping his drink pacing the room stood still.
“I’m not sure. They’re into some weird shit.” Was my excuse.
“I’m sure.” My mother nodded. “Margret! Get me a drink.” I finally took my first breath thinking it was about fucking time she had a drink. I could hear Margret scrambling to make my mother a drink. After Margret brought her a drink my mother took a long..... LONG sip. Drink! Drink!!!! Please get drunk.
“Wanna try that again?”
“What?” I asked. She did that gross thing where she licked her teeth and purses her lips. It made my skin crawl.
“Fine. Maybe I’m bi.” I said. And then she smiled. I was gay as shit and she knew it. But that’s what we all say at first. No offense to bisexual people.
“Told you, we made a weird one.” Was all she said but not to me, to my father. She tossed my phone back at me. Stood. Swallowed her drink and left.
My father left the room. And Margret took me upstairs to my room. They never spoke of it. I wasn’t punished. In fact I think my father even tried to make an effort. When I’d come home from the galleria with my friends he’d nod and say “hey girlfriends”. Too much. But at least they didn’t hit me. My mother continued to drink herself to sleep and chain smoke cigarettes in her used Volvo.
Like I said in the beginning. I always wanted something tragic to happen to me.... but this wasn’t it. Oh no. Just wait.
So my life went on. I continued to climb the social latter, and even came out at school, realized I was rich and might be gay but I was a part of the elite of Houston. I actually got a boyfriend from a neighboring school. How cute. And then something tragic actually happened to me.
Two days after I started my sophomore year my mother was running errands with my grandmother and they were hit by a drunk driver and died.
And after the funeral. My father had Margret pack up my bags. I actually came home from the funeral (stoned off my ass) to my bags packed.
“What’s going on?” I asked very confused. “Are you going on a trip? Dad, I need you right now.” I wiped away tears that had been falling from my face all day.
He cleared his throat.
“Dad?”
“I think it’s best if you stay with my sister in Maine for the year.”
“But- wait- wha-“ he raised his hand to silence me.
“I’ll come visit. She’s expecting you, wipe your face. Fern’s don’t cry.” And he left the room.
I wiped my face and Margret helped me pack a few more things before loading me into a town car to IAH.
I finally got my tragic story. Dead mom. And being shipped off to an aunt I’ve never met. Or even heard of. Fuck man.
