Declan Hankinston is on a mission to find a new prom date amidst the pain of his first heartbreak. Encouraged by his cousin Aubrey, he ventures into the world of gay online dating and signs up for Grindr to seek a companion. Little does he know, Aub...
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I feel like I'm back to following Aubrey around like a puppy dog again. But the fact of the matter is, she was hurt in all of this, too. There was something different about her on the pier. Her presence was lighter like she was finally free. She spoke freely of her struggles and emotions, something I haven't seen in a while.
We are two birds of a feather, me and Aubrey. I get it. I get what it's like to feel unwanted, neglected, and unmotivated. She acted out of hurt and resentment, and it's understandable. She didn't have to tend to her Mom and give up her life to care for her. She did it because that's who Aubrey is. In times of need, she's there for those she loves. She loves her Mom. No matter what she says or how often she refuses to admit it, she loves her. It's because of this love that she also has so much hate towards her Mom. Because how can she love someone who treats her so poorly?
None of this excuses what she did to Declan, but it sure as heck explains a lot.
When I saw Declan again tonight after that oddly compassionate conversation with Aubrey, I couldn't even speak to him. He was there, all hurt and confused, and I didn't have it in me to say a thing to him. The fact of the matter is, in the midst of it all, what I feel for him is unimportant.
Somehow, news of Kara's masquerade got back to Mom. I'm sure someone in my class stopped by that same night to buy Jeff's cocaine and spilt what they do know, which is me catfishing Declan and Aubrey telling me to do it. As soon as I got home tonight, she picked a fight and accused me of being a gay psychopath killer. "Like in that Criminal Minds show, you love so much," she says, trying to think up all the signs she might've missed.
Like every other of my unacceptable phases, she immediately threatens to institutionalise me and claims I am the way I am because of how much I hung out with Matt. And for once, she isn't wrong when she brings up Aubrey. "I told you that girl was bad news. You are who you hang out with." Her face is blank and emotionless, only for a split second before she starts going off again about how I ignored her yesterday and didn't come home, smacking her lips at me per usual.
She doesn't ask for an explanation or a reason. She doesn't care, never has and probably never will. She doesn't know it, but she has much to do with me not pursuing college. I thought I could be better and that if I ended up better, she would be proud. But she doesn't have a proud bone in her body. If she doesn't care, why should I? She brought me into this world and left me to fend for myself. She pretends like she's this involved Mom and tries so hard to care, but she's long gone.
Mom is still screaming and throwing her hands in the air, getting in my face and drumming herself in the head. Yes, drumming. With a chopstick, and then she drums my head with it to get my attention, too.
"C̄hạn rū̂ ẁā khuṇ b̂ā." she mumbles into my face in her Thai accent that has been long gone since my grandparents passed away. She only speaks in Thai when she doesn't want Jeff to understand, which is now.
Apparently, she's always known that I've been crazy.
"Calm down, May. The boy is allowed to have a life. So what if he wants to catfish people?" Jeff is sitting on the couch, holding a cigar between his fingers. "It builds character."
Mom scoffs and paces around the living room in her Gucci slippers and ties her hair up with the chopstick. "So what? You're gay now?" she leans against the couch's armrest.
If only it were that simple. I'm not gay, I'm demiromantic. "Sure, yeah." I sigh. I can't tell her I'm demiromantic when I don't even understand it myself. I don't go out pursuing men, but Declan is...
Declan is different.
"Sure, yeah." she mocks me and scrunches her face in disgust. "What does that even mean? Sure, yeah?"
"Mom! This isn't about you. I don't care what you have to say about me or your thoughts on my sexuality. You were never supposed to know."
"What did you think you would just hide it from me for the rest of your life? Ha!" she attempts to cover her anger with a smile and crosses her arms.
"Yeah!" I yell back at her. Her tone of voice is infuriating. She always has to be right because she's older and wiser. Which, I'll give that to her. She's insanely wise, maybe too wise for her own good. It's a shame she uses it in ways I don't approve of.
Mom laughs and pinches the bridge of her nose. "Your grandpa is going to love this one. You might have gotten yourself a plane ticket to Thailand for a good old slipper-smacking!"
She sure does love those slipper-smackings. I'm surprised she's not doing it right now.
"Just like grandpa loves your drug dealer husband, Miss I marry to snort lines?"
Her mouth drops, and Jeff stands up from his chair. He's glaring at me with the most vicious eyes. They have more emotion in them now than I've seen since I've known him. Before I know it, he rams me, shoulder first and I'm pinned up against the refrigerator. My ribs radiate with sharp stabbing pains and the handles dig into my back. His hand is cold to the touch against my throat. "Don't talk to your mother like that," His voice is low and controlled like he's trying to stop the shakiness while baring his teeth.
It takes all my strength, but I manage to shove him off of me and give myself time to crawl my way to the staircase while I catch my breath and then bolt up the stairs to my bedroom, locking both my handle and the deadbolt behind me.
Mom and Jeff pound away at the door just as the deadbolt clicks into position. "John, open this fucking door!"
As I back away from the door slowly, I'm simultaneously feeling confined by the four walls of my room. I fucking hate this room. It's dark and small, and 1970s wallpaper creeps through the cracks and dents on the walls. It's cold and tainted by memories of good and bad. It's only been two and a half years since Dad's passing, but my life before the pathetic one I lead now was incomparably warmer, brighter and better.
She forgets that I was here with her when Dad died when she would crawl into my bed because she was too distraught to sleep in theirs. When life without Dad was undoable and impossible, and she'd cry us both to sleep.
The pounding comes to a complete halt, and I hear Jeff say, "I'm done. This is a waste of my time."
