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Part Two

“Michael, are you alright?” I jumped out of my skin when I realized that I had been staring off into space at the dinner table again. My forked clattered onto my plate and I stared at it for a moment.

“Yeah, Mom. Sorry. I was just…” I trailed off looking to my left to where my dad was sitting at the head of the table. I always had to gauge his reactions to everything I said. It’s not that he hated me for being gay, but he wasn’t comfortable with it at all. Oh sure, he puts up a brave face and acts like everything is okay around my mother-well, most of the time. But I’ve heard him before talking to our neighbor Richard, telling how he loves me but is ashamed to tell people about me for fear of what they’ll say to him. Basically, he acts like I don’t exist anymore. It sucks.

“Just what?” my dad asks. I sighed. It was too late to say “nothing” so I went on with what I had been planning to say.

“I was just thinking about this really hot guy in my gover-”

“Is it Brian?” my mom asked, efficiently cutting me off.

“Er-yeah. How’d you know?” I pulled at the collar of my shirt; it was suddenly becoming too tight. And was it just me or was the air getting a bit heavy in here?

“You always get this look on your face when you think about him. It’s funny to watch.”

“First off, I do not get a “look” on my face.” I even inserted the air quotes as I talked aloud. “And second, it is not funny! It’s serious. You know how much I like him.” I regretted saying that in front of my dad the second it came from my mouth. I looked over at him and there was a pained and twisted look on his face. I was about to say something to end the conversation when he abruptly stood up.

“Excuse me,” he said, practically running out of the room. I wanted to cry at that moment. Actually, tears did well up in my eyes-as much as I hate to admit that. What? I can’t be gay and not want to look like a baby and cry? Just because I act a little more feminine doesn’t mean I like to cry. In that sense, I’m just like any other guy.

I rounded onto my mother. “Why does he do that all the time? I fucking hate it when he does that!”

“Michael, watch your language.” She actually had the nerve to chastise me when my father was prancing around the house and acting like a complete asshole and imbecilic child.

“No. I won’t. He hurts me when he does that. Every time my sexuality is brought up around him, he either pretends I don’t exist or he walks away. He acts like he doesn’t love me!” My mom tried to put a comforting hand on my shoulder but I shrugged her off.

“He does too love you. And so do I. It’s just that your father is taking longer to adjust to this idea of you liking men. It’s…different for him.” I snorted at this.

“He doesn’t love me and he’s had way more than enough time to get used to the idea. How many boyfriends have I had now?”

“Four,” she answered reluctantly.

“Yes. Four. If he’s not used to it now then he never will be. Clearly, my preference is guys. I wish he’d back off and just leave me the hell alone! I HATE HIM!” To make my little outburst worse than what it was, when I turned around to walk out of the dining room, my father was standing there in the doorway, looking both furious and crushed.

“Is that true?” he whispered hoarsely.

“That I hate you? Yes. You treat me like a piece of shit half the time. I know you’re uncomfortable even talking to me let alone about me. You act like I don’t exist now that you know I’m gay. We used to do everything together Dad, and I loved doing it with you. Now you act like I have some sort of disease that if you get to close to me you’ll catch it too. But it’s not Dad. It’s not. You just act as if I’ve died. You look right through me. It hurts me so much to even be in the same room with you know because of how you are. So yeah, I do hate you.” I pushed past him for good measure and slammed out the front door, tears streaming down my face at this point.

I didn’t know where I was going but I had to get away from him. A lot of what I had said was true but there was one thing that wasn’t. I didn’t hate my dad. It’s the way he acts that I hate. I could never hate my dad; he is my dad after all. But I hate how he doesn’t see me for me.

I kept thinking about all of this as I found my way to the park at the end of our block and plopped my ass down on a swing. I put my head in my hands, still crying. The question that kept running through my head was:

What the hell had I just done?

I know what I just did. I stood up against my father and said some of the nastiest words possible. That I hated him. Sobbed wracked through my body and I knew I was getting loud about it but I didn’t care. The one person who did care about what people thought and me was my dad. I know he was trying to protect our family when he didn’t talk about me. Then here’s me, the ungrateful child, who pushes him away, never wanting anything to do with him. I know tonight was the last straw and I should try to think of things from his perspective but I can’t. I just don’t get why he can’t accept me for who I am.

“What’s wrong?” intoned a male voice that I was pretty sure I knew, but that didn’t stop me from falling straight out of the swing.

“Fuck! Ow.” I just lay on the ground and slammed my head against it, closing my eyes as the pain stabbed through my head. “Fucking shit. I hate my life.” I heard a chuckle from above me and I opened my eyes. I forgot there was someone there with me.

“Michael, we really need to stop meeting when you’re off in Lala-Land,” Brian said with another little chuckle before sitting on the ground right next to me.

“Yeah. We do,” I whispered softly. I was in total freak out mode right now. Here I was, a total mess, fighting with my father and tear tracks all over my face. What the hell was Brain thinking about me now? He had better not tell the whole school about this or I’ll kill him.

“So you never answered me. What’s wrong?” His eyes were all serious and concerned when he looked at me again, this time straight in the eyes.

“My dad,” was all I said, breaking the eye contact that I know if I maintained I would tell him my completely sordid tale.

“Ooooooookay. Because that just tells me so much about what’s going on.”

“That’s all you need to know,” I bit back at him. Next thing I know I feel a warm body up against mine and Brian’s face is hovering over mine.

“I don’t think that’s all I need to know.”

“He hates that I’m gay.” Brian laughed again.

“It’s not fucking funny,” I pouted, trying to move out from under him but by now he had me pinned to the ground.

“I’m sorry. You’re right. It’s not.” He paused for a second looking thoughtful. It looked to me like he was having an internal debate before he spoke. “My dad’s the same way.”

I laid there in shock for a minute. “What?”

“I said that my dad was the same way. When I told him about me. He freaked out. He thought that I would never play football. I told him that he just needed to accept that I’m like this. And look at me now, I play football still and no one knows. Feel special. You’re the first.” He leaned down and brushed his lips against mine. That’s all it was. Not really a kiss but it was definitely something. He grinned and got off me, walking away. “Catch you later Michael!”

“Yeah, see you,” I mumbled, knowing that he didn’t hear me at all. I didn’t care though because one thing was for sure, Brian most definitely liked boys and he even almost kind of sort of kissed me!

A smile graced my face for the first time that night since dinner and I stood up to walk home. I had to tell someone about this and I knew just the person. My best friend Cate, who knew every detail of my life.

Description
Part Two

“Michael, are you alright?” I jumped out of my skin when I realized that I had been staring off into space at the dinner table again. My forked clattered onto my plate and I stared at it for a moment.

“Yeah, Mom. Sorry. I was just…” I trailed off looking to my left to where my dad was sitting at the head of the table. I always had to gauge his reactions to everything I said. It’s not that he hated me for being gay, but he wasn’t comfortable with it at all. Oh sure, he puts up a brave face and acts like everything is okay around my mother-well, most of the time. But I’ve heard him before talking to our neighbor Richard, telling how he loves me but is ashamed to tell people about me for fear of what they’ll say to him. Basically, he acts like I don’t exist anymore. It sucks.

“Just what?” my dad asks. I sighed. It was too late to say “nothing” so I went on with what I had been planning to say.

“I was just thinking about this really hot guy in my gover-”

“Is it Brian?” my mom asked, efficiently cutting me off.

“Er-yeah. How’d you know?” I pulled at the collar of my shirt; it was suddenly becoming too tight. And was it just me or was the air getting a bit heavy in here?

“You always get this look on your face when you think about him. It’s funny to watch.”

“First off, I do not get a “look” on my face.” I even inserted the air quotes as I talked aloud. “And second, it is not funny! It’s serious. You know how much I like him.” I regretted saying that in front of my dad the second it came from my mouth. I looked over at him and there was a pained and twisted look on his face. I was about to say something to end the conversation when he abruptly stood up.

“Excuse me,” he said, practically running out of the room. I wanted to cry at that moment. Actually, tears did well up in my eyes-as much as I hate to admit that. What? I can’t be gay and not want to look like a baby and cry? Just because I act a little more feminine doesn’t mean I like to cry. In that sense, I’m just like any other guy.

I rounded onto my mother. “Why does he do that all the time? I fucking hate it when he does that!”

“Michael, watch your language.” She actually had the nerve to chastise me when my father was prancing around the house and acting like a complete asshole and imbecilic child.

“No. I won’t. He hurts me when he does that. Every time my sexuality is brought up around him, he either pretends I don’t exist or he walks away. He acts like he doesn’t love me!” My mom tried to put a comforting hand on my shoulder but I shrugged her off.

“He does too love you. And so do I. It’s just that your father is taking longer to adjust to this idea of you liking men. It’s…different for him.” I snorted at this.

“He doesn’t love me and he’s had way more than enough time to get used to the idea. How many boyfriends have I had now?”

“Four,” she answered reluctantly.

“Yes. Four. If he’s not used to it now then he never will be. Clearly, my preference is guys. I wish he’d back off and just leave me the hell alone! I HATE HIM!” To make my little outburst worse than what it was, when I turned around to walk out of the dining room, my father was standing there in the doorway, looking both furious and crushed.

“Is that true?” he whispered hoarsely.

“That I hate you? Yes. You treat me like a piece of shit half the time. I know you’re uncomfortable even talking to me let alone about me. You act like I don’t exist now that you know I’m gay. We used to do everything together Dad, and I loved doing it with you. Now you act like I have some sort of disease that if you get to close to me you’ll catch it too. But it’s not Dad. It’s not. You just act as if I’ve died. You look right through me. It hurts me so much to even be in the same room with you know because of how you are. So yeah, I do hate you.” I pushed past him for good measure and slammed out the front door, tears streaming down my face at this point.

I didn’t know where I was going but I had to get away from him. A lot of what I had said was true but there was one thing that wasn’t. I didn’t hate my dad. It’s the way he acts that I hate. I could never hate my dad; he is my dad after all. But I hate how he doesn’t see me for me.

I kept thinking about all of this as I found my way to the park at the end of our block and plopped my ass down on a swing. I put my head in my hands, still crying. The question that kept running through my head was:

What the hell had I just done?

I know what I just did. I stood up against my father and said some of the nastiest words possible. That I hated him. Sobbed wracked through my body and I knew I was getting loud about it but I didn’t care. The one person who did care about what people thought and me was my dad. I know he was trying to protect our family when he didn’t talk about me. Then here’s me, the ungrateful child, who pushes him away, never wanting anything to do with him. I know tonight was the last straw and I should try to think of things from his perspective but I can’t. I just don’t get why he can’t accept me for who I am.

“What’s wrong?” intoned a male voice that I was pretty sure I knew, but that didn’t stop me from falling straight out of the swing.

“Fuck! Ow.” I just lay on the ground and slammed my head against it, closing my eyes as the pain stabbed through my head. “Fucking shit. I hate my life.” I heard a chuckle from above me and I opened my eyes. I forgot there was someone there with me.

“Michael, we really need to stop meeting when you’re off in Lala-Land,” Brian said with another little chuckle before sitting on the ground right next to me.

“Yeah. We do,” I whispered softly. I was in total freak out mode right now. Here I was, a total mess, fighting with my father and tear tracks all over my face. What the hell was Brain thinking about me now? He had better not tell the whole school about this or I’ll kill him.

“So you never answered me. What’s wrong?” His eyes were all serious and concerned when he looked at me again, this time straight in the eyes.

“My dad,” was all I said, breaking the eye contact that I know if I maintained I would tell him my completely sordid tale.

“Ooooooookay. Because that just tells me so much about what’s going on.”

“That’s all you need to know,” I bit back at him. Next thing I know I feel a warm body up against mine and Brian’s face is hovering over mine.

“I don’t think that’s all I need to know.”

“He hates that I’m gay.” Brian laughed again.

“It’s not fucking funny,” I pouted, trying to move out from under him but by now he had me pinned to the ground.

“I’m sorry. You’re right. It’s not.” He paused for a second looking thoughtful. It looked to me like he was having an internal debate before he spoke. “My dad’s the same way.”

I laid there in shock for a minute. “What?”

“I said that my dad was the same way. When I told him about me. He freaked out. He thought that I would never play football. I told him that he just needed to accept that I’m like this. And look at me now, I play football still and no one knows. Feel special. You’re the first.” He leaned down and brushed his lips against mine. That’s all it was. Not really a kiss but it was definitely something. He grinned and got off me, walking away. “Catch you later Michael!”

“Yeah, see you,” I mumbled, knowing that he didn’t hear me at all. I didn’t care though because one thing was for sure, Brian most definitely liked boys and he even almost kind of sort of kissed me!

A smile graced my face for the first time that night since dinner and I stood up to walk home. I had to tell someone about this and I knew just the person. My best friend Cate, who knew every detail of my life.