Homecoming (Lesbian) - Chapter 12: Chapter 12

Faye and I graduated from High School at seventeen. We went to Portland State University. She was studying Art, I was studying Architecture. We were happy, a few fights here and there but nothing to worry about. She could always make everything better with her smile, the touch of her hand, and the sweet tone of her voice. Studying at the same University had only brought us closer after people constantly repeating it was a bad idea. We planned it, we did everything we could to get in it together and we did, so everything could not be any more perfect.
My anger, though, had become a problem, but I only recognized it as an issue after one very particular incident.
I was waiting for Faye to come back from her movie group by her dorm door. It was a group of movie lovers who sat around to watch old movies, new movies, bad movies, and then talked about them; they analyzed them from every possible aspect and Faye loved it.
We were supposed to go have a few drinks with some friends. We were nineteen and getting into the "drinking and smoking" part of our youth. Like I've said before, I don't really like the taste of alcohol that much, but when you're nineteen and you don't drink, people start seeing you as a weirdo, and I didn't want to be a weirdo. Especially when my girlfriend knew and spoke to pretty much everyone in campus. There were certain expectations people had when it came to Faye Burton's girl. So I went with it.
I saw her walking down the alley coming towards me, laughing at some joke her friend and roommate, Caroline, had said. We had both dropped our punky-metaly styles by then. She stopped dying her hair purple and allowed her beautiful black hair to fall down her shoulders. I stopped dying my hair black and embraced my brunette, but kept my piercings; the one on my nose, the one on my tongue, and the one of my eyes brow. Faye was wearing dark jeans, a white blouse and a jean jacket. I wore blue jeans, and a black hoodie.
As Faye looked up at me, waiting by her room, she ran to leap into my arms.
I held her up in the air and kissed her.
"Wow, get a room," Caroline commented as she came closer.
I put Faye back on the ground as she said "Sure, but would you mind waiting out here for, let's say forty, forty-five minutes?"
"Man, you last that long?" She joked "Maybe I should try the girl on girl thing."
Faye opened the door and let me in. Went into the bathroom to wash up a little and came out ready to get going. Caroline warned us not to overdo it and sent us on our way.
It was eight thirty when we got on Faye's car and left the campus. She doesn't really like to drive, so I'm always the one driving it, but it was a graduation present from her parents. It was a blue, 2013 Nissan Versa. Used of course, but it still counts.
When we parked in front of the house, we realized it wasn't a 'few drinks'. There was a party going on. The music was loud and you could see the people inside the house dancing and jumping and chatting through the windows. I'm not really that good with parties, so Faye kissed me to reassure me and reminded me that we could leave whenever we wanted to.
The house was filled with people, many of them I knew, many of them I had never seen before. I didn't drink much since I was driving, but Faye became acquaintances with the Cuba Libre George, the guy who organized the party, was making. We were sitting around a group of people talking about stupid things, pretending we knew how the world should be run, bragging about how smart we were. When the alcohol had made its effect on Faye, she stopped the conversation abruptly and said "Excuse me, but I'm gonna dance with my girlfriend."
She grabbed my hand and dragged me to the improvised dance floor on the living room. She made me put my hands on her hips and threw her arms around my neck. Feeling the movement of her hips beneath my fingers was intoxicating. Feeling her so close to me, making contact over the clothes while our bodies motioned to one rhythm. We danced with our chests breathing together, with our foreheads touching, with our eyes on each other, and the music running through our bodies. I slipped my hands under her blouse to touch her back and kissed her while we danced. She pulled me closer.
When the song ended, I offered to get her another drink. She nodded and said she'd be waiting on the couch by the chimney. It took me a while to get her drink since everyone were making themselves drinks and drunk people don't have the slightest idea of what they are putting in their cups. As long as it's alcohol, right?
I made her a Cuba Libre and stumbled my way back to her. As I pushed my way across the living room, I watched a guy talking to her. He was thin, not too tall or attractive, but judging by the clothes he was wearing, he made up for it in money. He seemed like he was asking her to dance with him. She shook her head and thanked him.
The guy didn't take the hint, he insisted and she said no again. Then clarified her girlfriend was bringing her a drink. The guy said something about how I could join them, which pissed Faye off. She repeated she wasn't interested and tried to pull away. The guy grabbed her by the arm and tried to pull her towards him, but Faye jolted away and told him to stay away from her. I started walking a bit faster when I saw the guy yelling at her, calling her a bitch. He tried to reach out and grab her arm again. That's when I jumped in and I pushed him off. The guy fell to the floor, not because I pushed him too hard but because he was drunk
"Come on, baby, let's go." Faye said.
I was going to follow her but when we turned our backs to the asshole, he stood up and pushed me, causing me to pushing Faye to the ground calling everyone's attention. As I watch my girlfriend land on her hands so she wouldn't hurt herself, I felt I couldn't control the emotions I was feeling. I felt my cheeks turn red and my veins pumping electricity throughout my body.
I bit my lip and turned my hands into white knuckle fists. Faye stood up as I turned around to punch the asshole in the face. He dropped onto the floor, but I didn't stop there, I grabbed him by the neck of his shirt and punched him again with a fury I didn't know I was capable of harvesting. I punched him again and again, so hard my knuckles started bleeding. Or maybe it was his blood.
"Riley!" I heard Faye yell.
As she yelled I felt arms around my shoulders pulling me away from him, but I was out of my mind. I jolted trying to get them to release me so I could keep on hitting him. By the time they managed to pull me away from him, his face was swollen, covered in blood.
"Riley!" Faye screamed again, grabbing my face forcing me to look at her "It's me, okay? It's me."
My agitated breathing started to become deeper. The blind anger that had spread to my limbs was melting away. Only then I turned to see what I'd done. His face... Jesus. It was swollen, broken and covered in red. He couldn't even stand. I wanted to say I was sorry, to apologize, to... make everything go away.
I left the party running, and as always, Faye followed me. She drove us back to the dorms in silence while I tried to contain the tears. She took me to her dorm where Caroline asked what'd happened, we didn't answer. Faye asked her to bring her the first aid kid. I didn't know why but I didn't ask. I sat on Faye's bed and waited. When Caroline came out of the bathroom carrying the first aid kit, Faye damped a cotton ball in alcohol and held my hand up.
I felt the pain when she started to clean it up. My hand was swollen, just as the face of the man I'd hit with it. It had a few cut in it and dry blood covered my knuckles. Most of which wasn't mine.
"I'm sorry," I was able to whisper.
"I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have taken you to that damn party in the first place."
"It's not your fault, I... I don't know what happened, I just saw you on the floor and I lost it. He fucking... he fucking..."
Faye placed her cotton next to me to push my face up. "Riley... I get it."
"What happened to me? Three guys had to get me away from him. I felt like I could've killed him. That's... that's not okay!"
Faye didn't answer, but she was just as scared as I was. I wondered what would've happened if no one would've jumped in. I knew what would've happened. That day I promised myself I would manage my anger better, that I would control it, and that it would never happen again.
I failed.
I spent the next few months trying and failing to control myself. The only person who could always bring me back was Faye. She could always fix me, and I was always at peace with her, she gave me a sensation of well-being that kept everything else away.
She was home to me.
The guy I punched agreed not to do anything about it since he couldn't really remember what'd happened and everyone agreed that when you push someone's girl to the ground, you have something coming to you. Plus, once he cleaned his face a bit and put some ice in it, it didn't look too bad.
Faye and I went home for Christmas that year and I must say being away from my family for a while helped me calm down. I love them, but sometimes, the scent they give off can be toxic at moments. My father and his rules and expectations were hunting me at Portland, I was free from them, as long as I get my academic duties in order.
That Christmas we sat around the table, as always. Dad prayed and we started to eat. Dinner was pleasant, filled with questions about how things were going at school, how much my brother had grown, how dad's job was going and how mom's week had being. I was feeling hopeful, fulfilled. At the end of the dinner, though, I had to bring up an issue.
"Mom? Dad? I need to talk to you guys about something,"
My mom who was about to stand up and pick up the plates sat back down. My father intertwined his fingers on the table and Connor, who refused to stay, looked around trying to figure out if he should stand up and leave,
"What is it, honey?" my mother asked.
"I think it would be... beneficial for me, if I could see someone."
"What do you mean with 'someone', baby?"
"Like a... a therapist."
My dad smiled and thanked God "I knew God would fix my daughter. I knew it."
Fix me, like I'm a clock that stopped working, or a bike with a flat tire.
"Our daughter doesn't need fixing, Steve. She is not broken." my mother sentenced with tenacity.
My mother was wrong. I was broken, just not in the way they were referring to.
"I'm not talking about my sexual orientation." I said before they went any further "I've been having... attacks..."
They frowned and gazed at each other before laying eyes on me "Attacks?" My father questioned "What kind of attacks?
"Angry... anger attacks."
"Honey, why haven't you told us about this sooner?"
"Last time I told you something, you kicked me out..."
My mother looked down and I felt guilty about the comment. I didn't mean to hurt her, she asked me a question and I answered honestly.
My dad stayed quiet for a moment, but then asked "Since when are you...?"
"Months now... I did something bad so I promised myself I would control it."
"Something bad?" he inquired.
"I..." I closed my eyes "I punched someone. He was trying to get with Faye and she didn't want to. He pushed her. She fell and I... I don't know, dad."
"Oh, Riley..."
"They guy was too drunk, so he agreed not to say anything... I'm sorry." I apologized almost crying. That was not the woman they had raised me to be.
My parents stayed quiet, while I looked at Connor. He gave me a weak grin and whispered "I wouldn't let anyone touch my girl either."
"Connor, be quiet." My father commanded "I don't think a therapist is the solution, darling."
"Then what do I do, dad?"
"What if I can get you to talk to a priest? Someone who can give you spiritual guidance."
"Dad, I don't want to be disrespectful but... spiritual guidance is not what I'm looking for. I want a professional, someone who can actually help me."
"Which is why you shouldn't be going to a psychologist."
"Dad..." I sighed "Can this, for once, be my decision?"
My mother intervened "I think if Riley wants a professional... we can give her that."
"The best for her is not a psychologist, is God's guidance and strength. He will take that weight off your shoulders, Riley."
"Dad, I don't want a priest!" I raised my voice while trying not to be defiant.
"A therapist is not a good idea. Trust your father, I know. I just want what's best for you."
"Yeah, like with Connor..."
"Yes!" He stated, as if it were written in stone. "One day, Riley, one day you'll see how much I've tried to give you only the best and you'll ask for my forgiveness."
"Forgiveness? What the hell have I done to you?"
"Do I have to make a list...? After everything that has happened?"
"Yes, please! And on top of that list, put 'She forgave me for breaking her mouth!'"
"I can't keep having this conversation with someone so stubborn."
He stood up and started picking up the plates "Well, excuse me for not saying 'Thank you for hitting me, daddy. Violence it's always a good way to raise a kid!'"
He placed the plates down as his jaw tensed "You do not speak to me that way, young lady."
"That's enough," my mother jumped in "Riley, please take your brother to his room, honey."
My father opened his mouth to speak, but my mother gave him a look that prevented him from doing so. I stood up and went upstairs with Connor. I sat on his bedroom floor while he asked me about how was it to be going to University. We talked about silly things, anime, video games, movies, series. At the end of our conversation, I hugged him and told him about a couple of series he could look up.
I closed his bedroom door to hear murmurs downstairs. My parents were talking about the entire thing. I sat on the top of the stairs, like I did when I was a kid, and listened.
"She needs help, Steve. I know you love her, and I know you want to help her, but why don't we give Riley some trust about what kind of help she thinks she needs. If the therapist doesn't work, we can always do something else."
"And it's not going to work. Therapists are nothing but overly paid statues. They just sit there and listen. They don't do anything else."
"What if that's what she needs? Someone she doesn't know, someone she can just talk to for an hour and tell them everything she's feeling?"
"Then she can talk to us."
My mother snapped her tongue, she makes that sound when she's growing more frustrated with my dad's stubbornness. "Truth is, Steve, she can't. We don't understand many of the things that are happening to her. Even more important, Riley doesn't trust us. I think she needs to talk to someone without feeling that person will judge her"
"That's all the more reason to get a priest."
My mother snorted then finished softly saying "Steve, please... don't let your pride do more damage than it already has."
My mother stood up andwalked towards the stairs to look up to me hugging my legs and resting my chinon my arms. She smiled sadly at me and I smiled back. I mouthed 'Thanks fortrying', then stood up and went into my room.