Gay Love Story

Chapter 2

Aaron Sorensen

I tried the doorknob, gently at first, and then rattling it hard when I found that it was locked. No way! They had locked me in my own room. I leaned my forehead against the wood, my arms clutched around myself. The hugs I had wanted from my parents were now a distant dream shattered by their pinched faces and harsh words.

Why had I ever thought that telling would make it better? I choked on hysterical laughter tangled with wet sobs realizing that only yesterday I had truly believed my parents loved me........loved me without reservation; would love me no matter what I said.

Oh sure, they loved the boy I pretended to be; the good boy, the 'cause no trouble' boy, the normal boy. In my warm false cocoon of this love, I had believed they'd love the hidden boy, the boy who cried at night for just a touch, just a smile, just a recognition.

Yesterday was my birthday. I was born seventeen years ago. I've kept my secret for so long that it just seems part of me. I need to tell someone.

It wasn't that I had anyone I wanted to be with; it was just that the feelings inside me had grown and grown and I had to share them. I had to say the words out loud to someone who loved me. I had hoped, and so I had faced my fears and interrupted the dinner table last night with six simple words. Words I hoped would make them hear me.

"Mom, Dad, I need your help," I said, my voice wobbly, as I stared at the birthday cake with seventeen blue candles.

My mother had smiled. My father had looked at me with pride. They always helped me with my school projects, my ball practice, my scout badges. They always supported me. But, this was the last smile from my mother, the last look of pride in my father's eyes. I took a deep gulp of breath, gripped the edges of the table and let my heart open up for the very first time.

"I'm.........I think I'm......," my eyes darted from her face to his face and, before he even said the words, I knew. "I'm gay." I wanted to look away, anywhere but into her eyes, into his face, but I held onto the table and watched, feeling as if I was going to throw up.

My father's forehead wrinkled and his eyes narrowed. My mother's hand flew to her mouth as if she was holding back a cry. I heard a strangled sound but wasn't sure who made it. Maybe it was me.

"That isn't at all funny, Aaron," my father said sternly.

"Why are you saying that?" my mother whispered through her fingers.

I knew in that instant that I should have stayed silent. I wanted to take it back; make it go away. It just hung out there in the air over the table, like some cloud of impenetrable miasma. I saw in their eyes that the help I needed, the help I had believed I would find just wasn't there. It would have been there for school or for scouts or for anything else in my life, but not for this.

My father stood so suddenly that his chair crashed to the floor. "You mean that you need our help to fight this...this feeling you're having."

I thought hard. I could backtrack and say 'Yes'. I could let it all become a plea for them to help me get rid of these feelings. I wanted to just go back to five minutes ago when my life was safe....my world secure. But, had it ever really been?

"No," I said slowly, my eyes never leaving my father's. "I mean I need you to help me, understand me, help me be me.........love me."

I watched my father's nostrils flare. I heard my mother's soft sniffles.

"Help you be you? You are MY son. There is no place in your life for what you're asking. We have raised you to be clean and decent; pure of heart and soul. The church has taught you the ways of righteousness. Why are you saying this?"