“We can go back to my place, but I should probably tell you a secret of my own on the way, so you know what to expect.”
“I promise I’ll keep your secret, I’m really good at it!” I chuckle.
“Come on,” she laughs, gathering up her books.
Two bus rides later and we’re in her apartment. My family isn’t rich, and we always lived in the poorer areas of Tynerston, but this…
Her apartment is in one of the dodgiest areas, as in, my brother wouldn’t even go here if he didn’t have to. I mean, I get it, what she’s been through, shit. The fact that she’s in school and making her way is amazing. But to go from Radbury Heights, where literal millionaires live, to this…
At least she’s made it cozy, and she’s adamant she’s fine and doesn’t want anyone else to interfere. And more importantly, it’s private—so maybe a bit of a safe haven for both of us now.
“I hope you don’t mind sitting on the bed,” she says, “obviously there’s no space for any other furniture.”
“It’s fine, it’s basically like a dorm room.”
She chuckles, “Yeah, a super shitty dorm room.”
We sit with our backs against the headboard and some chips and dip between us— ‘snacks for secrets’ as she said at the store.
“So come on then,” she says, “tell me what the deal is.”
“I guess it all starts with my father, Frank. He’s currently in prison for murder.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah, he was one of the founders of this motorcycle club, Lobos Aulladores,” I say, “and they used to do a lot of fucked up shit.”
“Used to?”
“Yeah, there’s a new leader now, so they don’t do illegal stuff anymore. My brother, Diablo, is still a member. They’re actually nice guys; I hang out there all the time.”
“But they wouldn’t like it that you’re gay?”
“No, it’s what I was thinking about earlier when I went quiet at the library, how I don’t remember when I first knew I was gay, that on some level I’ve always known. But when I first realized I had to keep it a secret, I remember that like it was yesterday.”
“You can tell me if you like, it won’t go any further than this room.”
I nod and settle down into the bed a little more.
“I was sixteen, so this was what, four years ago? We were having a family meal, and my mom was telling us about a new artist she’d found, and how much she loved his work. As soon as my dad heard the artist was a man, he started going off on this crazy rant about what type of man would be an artist, using all sorts of horrible words to describe him.”
“Sounds like a real asshole.”
“Yeah,” I say, “he was pretty vile. The more he talked, the more I just wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole. I was terrified, it felt like the words, ‘I’m gay’, were floating above my head in flashing neon, for everyone to see.”
“Your mom and brother didn’t say anything?”
“No, my mom was more scared of him than I was, he was abusive so…”
“I’m so sorry.” She reaches over and squeezes my hand again.
“I went out that night and tried to have sex with a girl.”
She chuckles at the grimace on my face. “I’m guessing it didn’t go well.”
“No, she was this girl in our neighborhood, and she was popular and pretty, and all the guys liked her. I know it was stupid, but I figured maybe she could make me straight?”
“It’s not stupid, you were scared, and you wanted to feel safe.”
