Homecoming (Lesbian) - Chapter 10: Chapter 10

Faye and I had been dating for a little over a year. We were about to turn eighteen, desperately in love and stupidly thought we would never face any kind of problems. None that we couldn't overcome, at least. What did we know
At the time we were happy, but there was an elephant in the room, a discussion we had every single time we were alone. Faye wanted to come out of the closet. I didn't. I loved my dad..., no seriously, I did. But a controlling, old fashion man it's not going to take the fact that her daughter is gay with open arms. Plus, over the years, my relationship with my father grew more difficult. He would always say something controlling or imposing about Connor and I would always jump in, which meant our fights kept increasing, both in frequency and intensity.
So no, I didn't want to tell them. Faye came up with the idea that maybe telling our friends first would be better, telling people who weren't our parents would give us a bit more confidence, or that's what kept repeating. But I didn't want my friends to know before my parents. Small town, gossip spreads like a virus. If we were to tell our friends, our parents would find out in a matter of weeks and finding out was in no way better than hearing it from me. She couldn't refute that.
I asked her to give me time, a few days, maybe a few weeks. She wasn't really pushing me but I felt pushed. I've always felt pushed with everything. Especially after the bucket of water she threw at me one Saturday night, when we went to her home after watching a movie to play video games.
I said hello to Mr. and Mrs. Burton who were cooking dinner together. I always thought they looked like the most perfect couple when they cooked dinner together. I headed for the stairs to go to her bedroom. Faye, who was a bit behind me, stopped at the bottom of the stairs and look at her parents, who could be seen past the kitchen island.
"Mom, dad?"
"Yeah, honey." They said at unison.
"Riley is my girlfriend." Just like that, without telling me, without any kind of warning, she just dropped the bomb on them, and on me.
"We know," said Mr. Burton.
Not happy with that, Faye felt the necessity to be more specific. "As in we're dating."
They both left the steaks they were cooking to turn around and glance at Faye. Her dad said; "Yeah, we know."
"No, I mean, as in girlfriend, girlfriend."
Her mother was the one to answer this time. "Yes, darling. We know."
Faye was expecting something else, but she wasn't expecting a bad reaction to it. Her parents were always very opened when it came to sexuality and how to handle it. They had the sex conversation with Faye that my parents never had with me. You know, boys, healthy sexuality, condoms, even masturbation. My dad never mentioned the topic, my mom mentioned it once to tell me that I should protect myself when I was ready, but she didn't specify what protection was or the methods that existed.
Faye smiled at her parents, and prepared to follow me upstairs, but her parents interrupted her by calling out "No more closed doors when Riley is here, young lady."
"Yes, ma'am."
And that was Faye's coming out story. Not particularly inspiring or relatable. Mine was a different thing.
We played video games until nine with her bedroom door open, something we had never had to do, but it was a price I was willing to pay as long as her parents were fine with me. At nine Faye and I went downstairs, she wanted to say bye to me at the front door, but before I could leave, her parents stopped me with a "Where do you think you're going, young lady?"
They sat at the sofa while Faye and I sat on the opposite seat.
"Riley, you know you're like a daughter to us, but things are going to change a little." Mr Burton started.
"From now on, no more closed doors. If you're going out I want to know where you're going and how long you're going to take. If you don't know how long you{ll be out, then I expect a call. Just to let us know our daughter is safe."
I nodded to everything they said like a soldier nods to her superior. They also warned us about how we should have visits in the living room whenever they weren't home. In the end, it wasn't so bad, it was normal, or at least that's what I thought, normal warnings about dating, warnings they probably would've given me if I were a boy.
"Have you told your parents?" Mrs. Burton asked.
Faye looked away and I bit my lip "No... I'm going to but, I don't think they're going to take it that well."
"Your mom might come to understand it, but your father does worry me," said Mr. Burton, no need to sugar-coat things, they knew they would be doing me no favors by lying about how well my dad is going to take it.
"It'll be fine," I said "It'll be hard at the beginning but... let's stay optimistic."
Mrs. Burton added "If anything happens, like we said, you're like a daughter to us."
I nodded "Thanks, mom."
I was ready; a week after Faye had told her parents, I was ready to tell mine. We were in a relatively good position. My dad and I hadn't fought in over a month and he was showing more interest in me again; asking how school was, how my friends were. And mom? Mom was her loving patient self.
It was a Tuesday, and it was raining. I sat them down on the living room couch after dinner, at around eight PM, while Connor played with his new Lego Star Wars toys in his bedroom. I didn't know how to react, or what to say. Is there really any way out there to soften things down for them, to make it easier to swallow? My parents were not the Burtons, the Burtons believed in tolerance and respect. My parents believed whatever they were told at church. And the church doesn't really think highly of gay people, regardless of how much they try to hide it, you can't hide the sun with one finger.
Nevertheless, I tried. I asked them if I could get them coffee, cookies, something more comfortable like a pillow or a glass Coca-Cola, which only made them more suspicious about my intentions. I knew what they were thinking. Riley scratched the car. They should've never helped me get my license, I'm too young, too reckless. Or maybe I broke dad table-saw, while making that music box last summer. Something like that.
I sat in front of them, holding my breath, preying, feeling my hands shaking, my ears buzzing, my heart beating its way out of my chest. My lips went dry and I couldn't bring myself to say a word.
"Honey? What's going on?" mom asked.
I was about to butt out, tell them something else, something I hadn't done but that couldn't possibly be worse than 'I'm gay'.
I licked my lips and breathed in as deeply as I could to calm my nerves down. Yeah, right, like that's gonna happen.
"There is..." I cleared my throat and started again. "There is something I've been wanting to tell you guys."
"Riley," my dad cut me off "If you crashed the car, I swear I'm taking it off of your allowance."
"No... no, the car's fine. It's not that."
"Then what? Come on, Riley. We've got things to­―"
"I'm gay." I said, without letting him finish, without letting him make me feel like nothing I could say was more important than whatever he was doing to.
And let there be silence. Total silence. I could hear the tic-tac coming from the wall clock in the living room. It seemed years, centuries. My lungs were about to burst.
Finally, my mom was the first person to open her mouth "What?"
"I'm gay." I repeated, not thinking, not trying to.
"Why are you doing this?" my dad interrupted.
I frowned, "Doing what?"
My dad was about to say something else, but my mom cut him off and said "No. You're not. You're too young to understand what you want. Like that metal look you think makes you look so cool."
Dear parents out there. If your child ever sits you down and says 'I'm gay', don't you flipping dare to say 'No, you're not. You're confused and too young.' Please, don't. We go through a hell of a lot trying to accept something about ourselves we can't change, something society makes a point to hate. You think we didn't try? You think we didn't break ourselves into pieces when we realized who we were? We did, so you coming in our faces to say that we are just fucking around because we are bored and want to seem special, it's not fucking cool!
"What?" I managed to mumble.
"Riley. You're too young to understand what―"
"Are you kidding me?" I raised my voice "I've been building up courage to tell you guys this, and you're just gonna pretend I'm too young to know myself? Weren't you already dating dad at my age? Or were you just confused?"
That last part seemed to offend her, so she stood up and said "It's different. I was meant to be with your father."
I stood up and said "And I'm meant to be with Faye!"
As soon as Faye's name left my lips, my dad stood up and yelled "I knew it! That fucking girl it's a bad influence, she always has been!"
"Don't call her that! I love her."
My dad walked around the coffee table to get closer to me. With his face inches away, he said "Shut up, Riley."
"I love her." I repeated, not trying to be defiant, but trying to get them to understand.
"Shut the fuck up! I'm not having a fucking dyke for a daughter."
I smiled "Too bad then. You do. Nice job, dad."
It was the first and only time he did it. His fist impacted with my cheek as in slow motion. I felt my inner lip being pressed against my teeth in a rush of anger, as my teeth ripped the flesh inside my mouth. I managed to stay on my feet, but I couldn't look at my dad anymore. The warm liquid in my mouth demanded to be set free, so I spat it on the floor, tasting the metallic sweetness of blood.
"Mom? Dad?" I heard Connor's voice coming down to the bottom of the stairs.
"No, Connor!" I spoke up "Go, back to your room." He was afraid, shaking, so I walked up to him and hugged him. "It's fine, come on,"
I led Connor upstairs with my parents downstairs, unable to move after what my dad had done. I put Connor in his bed, and placed headphones on his ears before turning his iPod on. I kissed his cheek and left the bedroom.
I went into the bathroom to wipe the blood of my lip and the tears that had just started falling down my cheeks. Something burst the door open and threw a bag at my back.
"You're leaving, you understand?" my dad said. I stopped cleaning myself up and turned to him "I don't want you in my house."
My mom pulled his arm trying to calm him down "Honey, she's our daughter, you can't kick her out!"
"She's no daughter of mine."
There are things in life that mark a before and an after. Some good, some bad. Things that change you and after they happen, you're never the same again. In my life, I had plenty of those experiences. But that one sentence, it did something to me. It broke us, more than his fist had. He didn't know it then, but my dad would regret that sentence for the rest of his life. It would hunt him forever.
With tears threatening to fall down, I picked up the bag and walked into my bedroom to pack my things. I packed three shirts, three pairs of jeans, two jackets and my underwear. A pair of shoes, my tooth brush, my deodorant and a couple of pictures of Faye and I.
"Honey, don't do this." My mother begged, and I would've stayed just for her... had she not said what she said downstairs.
Yes, I was a very resentful person back there. I still am, but the only way you can understand the feeling of rejection that comes from the people that should love you no matter what, yet treat you like that because of your sexual orientation, it's if it happens to you.
I continued packing my things, not even slowing down because of her. Once I believed I was ready to leave, I picked up the two hundred dollars I had in savings and put them in my front pocket. I walked into Connor's bedroom, he was still awake. Who could sleep with so much yelling? I kissed him on the forehead and told him I would always be there for him.
My mom kept yelling at me, following me downstairs as she begged me not to leave. She turned to my dad to ask him not to let me go, but he refused to open his mouth again. Before leaving my home, I turned to look at my mother and said "I'm sorry, mommy."
I closed the door behind me, hearing my mother breaking in tears. I walked under the rain, with my clothes soaked and no place to go. So I went to the only other home I've ever known.
I knocked on the door three times before Faye opened up.
Her dad made us tea, her mom lend me a towel and took care of my broken lip. They didn't make questions, not at the beginning. Mrs. Burton sat next to me and held my hands. Only then I cried. She held me like my own mother hadn't. I cried for hours, or maybe it was just my perception of time. But when I was done I felt, if not better, a bit relieved. I drank tea with them and told them everything, from the coming out story, to the yelling, to the punching, to the "She's no daughter of mine."
"You can stay with us for as long as you want, Riley," said Mr. Burton.
"Yes, honey. For as long as you need." Mrs. Burton said.
"But you're not sleeping in Faye's bedroom." Mr. Burton added, part joke, part serious.
The first night, theylet me sleep in the couch, in warm clothes and not under the rain. Since theydidn't have a spare bedroom, the day after that I helped Mr. Burton fix theshed to make it bigger and put a decent bed in it. The shed's area ended upbeing ten feet square. I had a TV, a small nightstand to the left and myclothes to the right. Not too shabby. I started working with Mr. Burton invarious projects he had around the house to show them how thankful I was. Theymade it clear it wasn't necessary, but I wanted to. I helped him fix the leakin Faye's room, install the shelf in the studio and change the boards in thestaircase. Mr. Burton was thinking about building a third floor and wanted meto check out the blueprints. But his paid jobs took a lot of his time, so tomake progress quicker, he needed someone he could trust with that project.Someone like me. He taught me as much as you could learn without going toschool to learn architecture. Before I knew, I didn't want to study computer science anymore, I wanted to be an architect.