Page 27 of Taking Care of You
I open my mouth, intending to answer. Instead, I burst into tears.
“Shit, Jakoby. What happened? What is it?”
He reaches over to me, but I shrink away from him. I don’t want to be at my house anymore, and if he hugs me, I’ll want to stay in his arms for hours. “Just drive, please,” I choke out, dropping my head in my hands to cover my pain.
I don’t know why I’m crying. I don’t know why I let her words hurt me. No one else’s do. But no one else is supposed to love me unconditionally. No one else is supposed to protect me from the world. No one else is supposed to always be in my corner.
That’s my mother’s job. She’s the one who’s supposed to have my back when people say hateful shit to me, not be the one saying it. I should want to come to her when someone hurts me, telling her about my pain and expecting her to make it better. My mother shouldn’t feel like I’m a curse on her just because I’m gay.
I’ve been a good son. I make good grades, I’m never in trouble, I don’t do or sell drugs. I stay out of the way, barely asking for anything, not even love and acceptance. But no matter what I do—or don’t do—it’s never enough.I’mnever enough.
The tears are still coming hard and fast when Ethan stops, but I’m no longer audibly sobbing. I blink and see that we’re not at his place, but at a lake with a pier.
Ethan gets out and comes around to my side of the car, taking my bag from my hands and pulling me out. He places the bag in the backseat, then grabs my hand and walks me to the end of the pier.
He sits at the edge and offers me his hand. “Come here,” he tells me quietly, and pulls me down to sit beside him. “You want to talk?”
Though I want to say no, I nod. I look out over the water and sigh. “My mom. She’s always…so mean.” My breath hitches and I feel more tears pour from my eyes. “Mainly about me being gay.”
I look at Ethan and he looks extremely sad. “Damn, I didn’t know. Am I making it harder by saying you’re my boyfriend?”
“No. She doesn’t know that. She’s been saying horrible things to me since I came out to her and my dad. Tonight, she said…” I pause to wipe the tears from my eyes. She really has a way of fucking me up. “She said she wascursedwith a gay son.”
Her calling me names isn’t the worst part. It’s that she thinks I’m a curse. It’s not like I chose to be gay. This is how I was born, how I was made. Did God curse me, too? Did he make me this way so I could have such a horrible life?
I put my head in my hands and the sobs start again. Ethan pulls me into him and I wrap my arms around his waist, using his strength as the comfort I so desperately need. He rubs my back and tells me it’s okay. Even though it might not be true, it’s exactly what I need to hear.
Ethan is making me feel safe. He’s making me feel like I can be vulnerable with him. It’s probably the reason I opened up and told him what only Crystal knows. With his arms around me, I know if I ever break down, if I ever need to get my emotions outwith tears, Ethan will be there, being strong for me when I can’t be strong for myself.
When my tears start to dry up again, Ethan kisses my forehead and asks, “Better?”
I nod and wipe my face, feeling embarrassed by my crying fit. It’s not like my mother said anything new. I’m sure she and my dad probably had that discussion more than once without me knowing. My dad and I aren’t close, but I always thought he would at least not hate me like she does.
Guess that’s too much to ask.
We sit at the pier for a little while longer so I can get myself together and calm down. I hear him fumbling beside me and see him take out his phone. I give him a questioning look, but he’s not paying me any attention.
Music pours from his phone and I give him a shaky smile. It’s the song I was singing in the car when we were on the way to his house the first time. Ethan wraps his arm around my shoulder as I face the water and sing.
I’m shocked that he remembered I’d said I sing when I’m sad, and even more shocked that he remembered the song I was singing. It’s one of my favorites. A classic, like my father would call them, when we would sing early in the morning when I was a kid.
That’s why it’s my favorite. It’s from a time when I didn’t have a care in the world and I knew my parents loved me. Not like now, with my mom talking down to me, attacking my character because of who I choose to love.
The song isn’t very long, but by the time it ends, I feel better. I’m glad Ethan brought me here. It’s peaceful, puts me at ease.
Ethan pulls me closer to him. “How do you feel now?” he asks me quietly, like he doesn’t want to disrupt the evening by speaking too loud.
“I’m okay. Thank you.”
My ‘thank you’ is for more than just him asking how I am. It’s for sitting with me. It’s for being my friend. It’s for being here with me, even if he didn’t say anything. It’s for remembering my favorite song and allowing me to release my pain the only way I know how. It’s for being him.
“Good. Wanna stay here longer or head home?” he asks.
“We can go. I’m okay, I promise,” I say quietly.
He stands, then takes my hands to help me up. I peer up at him and he’s looking at me with sad eyes, but thankfully, they don’t show pity. I think I’d break down again if he pitied me. My life is pretty fucking tragic, but I don’t want anyone’s pity.
Once we’re inside the car, he turns to me. “Can I ask you something?”
