I’m just so fucking tired of living a lie… consequences be damned. Maybe, I’m about to be damned, but with the way I feel inside, I figure I’ll be damned either way.
Here goes nothing.
“Mom… Dad… I’m gay.” Suddenly, a weight feels lifted. Okay. That wasn’t so bad.
I look to my mother and catch her slow blinking, mouth gaped. “What do you mean?” she asks.
What the hell? I know for a fact she knows what ‘gay’ means. She’s spent more than one holiday trying to pray the gay away every time she finds out someone–whether she knows them, or not–is attracted to the same sex.
“What do I mean?” I parrot. “I’m a lesbian. I’m attracted to women, Mom… not men.”
“Are you sure?” she asks and I can’t help but turn to my father, hoping for a little assistance. When our eyes meet, he immediately looks away and my heart cracks at the blatant rejection. “How do you actually know? You’ve never brought a boy home.”
She’s right. I’ve never brought a boy home. I actually thought there was something wrong with me until Suzie Taylor, the most popular girl in school, kissed me behind the bleachers senior year. The amount of moisture that pooled between my thighs as her tongue danced with mine, had to be a world record or something. I should probably leave that part out of this particular conversation, though. Something tells me they won’t appreciate it as much as I did. It was both the best and loneliest moment of my life.
Realizing I was gay was like finding the missing piece of my life puzzle. It was also the moment I knew I had to start hiding myself from the world. This town… my family… you don’t get to be gay within either.
It even took me a solid six months to tell CeCe. Until now, she’s the only other person that’s known my secret.
The looks on my parents' faces make me wish I’d kept it to myself a little longer.
“Demi.” Mom states matter-of-factly. “You know God doesn’t approve of homosexuality.”
Called it.
“Respectfully, I don’t give a fuck what God or anyone else thinks.” I’ve never raised my voice to my parents, but I can’t stop myself. The pressure in my chest deflates a little and it’s like I can finally breathe again. It’s been so long. My tone softens a little as I continue. “I’m tired of living a lie.”
“Honey… you’re just confused. It happens to a lot of young girls and boys.”
“Mother, stop.” I shout, releasing another bit of weight that’s been holding me down for far too long. “I’m not a little girl. I’m a grown woman.”
“Elijah, will you please talk some sense into your daughter?”
My father regards me for a brief moment and I could swear I see a flicker of sympathy in his eyes. But just like every other argument I’ve had with my parents, he always takes her side. He can’t even be a man and stand up to his own goddamn wife.
“Demi,” my father pleads. “Please, let’s just talk about this like adults.”
I can’t fucking believe this.
“You know what, Dad? I expected this from her.” I point accusingly at my mother and she jumps back like I’m going to hit her. I wish I was so brave. “Of all people, I figured you would be the one to accept me as I am, despite what this fucked up cult of a neighborhood, the church or mom had to say about it.”
“Don’t blame your father, dear.” Mom stands and walks toward me, her heels clacking against the wood flooring, sharper with every step. Her arms cross delicately over her chest as she leers down at me. “He may not say it like I do, but I can assure you he agrees with me. If you insist on choosing this for yourself, then you can do it alone. There’s no room for you here.”
My bravery begins to wane as what she’s saying sinks in. My blood pressure picks up the pace. She’s waiting for me to respond, but all I want to do is get some fresh air. I can’t breathe in this stuffy ass house.
Tears well up behind my eyelids and I do my best to choke it back. I can’t let her see me cry. “Dad?” I whisper, pleading with him to see reason since my mother clearly doesn’t. “Are you going to let her do this?”
“I’m sorry, Demi,” he finally responds. His words almost sound sincere.
I can’t believe this is happening.
“And when I say you do it alone, that also means no inheritance, no trust fund… nothing. You defy me in this and you’re cut off.” Her voice is calm but stern, leaving nothing up for interpretation.
Now, my father won’t even look at me.
“I guess that’s it then,” I answer, not so confidently, but knowing they’ve left me no choice. “But you should know. Being gay doesn’t make me less than you. It doesn’t make me evil. At the end of the day, whether you claim me or not, I’m still your daughter. I don’t know when, but one day, you’ll regret choosing religion and God over your own fucking daughter. I don’t need your money. I don’t need anything from either of you. It’s time I chose me for a change.”
About Six Months Later…
