Demi's Way

Chapter 1

          I opened my eyes to see it was a beautiful late-August morning. There were absolutely no remnants from the thunderstorm the night before. Birds were singing outside my window and the neighbors' dog Buddy was barking continuously. The sun was beaming its rays into my bedroom, casting a noticeable glow on the Frank Ocean poster on my wall. Slowly, I pushed back the covers and climbed out of bed. After sliding my feet into my slippers, I made my way out of my room and up the hall to the bathroom.

          Usually I'd be anxious on the morning of the first day of school but the fact that I was now a senior somehow made me feel at ease. I guess it was because I'd been going to Morrison Heights High for so long and that morning marked the beginning of the end. I still remembered my first day going there back when I was a freshman. My sister Domonique was a senior so I got to ride with her instead of having to ride the bus. She kept an eye on me that whole day but made sure to keep her distance and let me learn some things on my own. I always missed having her around after she went away to college, but I missed her more than usual that morning.

          After splashing some water on my face, I dried off with one of my little hand towels and then stared at myself in the mirror. I was a splitting image of my dad. I had his caramel complexion, chestnut colored eyes, hairline, nose, lips and chin. The only thing I didn't have was his height. While he was over six feet, I was just five-five. I got that from my mama. I also got her family's skinny gene. I never weighed over one hundred and thirty pounds.

          "I hope you're finishing up in there, Demi," said my mama from out in the hallway. "You know it's not good to be late on your first day."

          "Okay ma," I replied while rolling my eyes. I waited until I heard her footsteps walking away before I proceeded to brush my teeth.

          The relationship between my mother and I was never as close as the one I shared with my father, but it got worse when I came out on Christmas morning at age fourteen. Domonique and dad accepted me while mama needed some time to adjust. Nearly four years later and she was still adjusting. I always suspected part of the reason she had a hard time accepting me was because I didn't fit into what she perceived as gay. I wasn't feminine, I didn't worship Beyoncé, and I loved watching football for the sport and not the guys; as if any of that serves as indicators of someone being gay or straight. The biggest mountain between us was her devotion to Morrison Heights First Baptist. Mama practically lived at that church; where the great Pastor Marcel Simmons preached and all of the mindless followers hung on to his every word. What none of them knew was that I was sexually involved with the pastor's son, Malcolm.

          "You should eat something," dad said to me the moment I descended the stairs that led into the kitchen.

          "I'll eat an apple," I said before picking up an apple from the fruit basket on the table.

          "You're gonna need more than that," mama chimed in. "I didn't cook all of these eggs, bacon and cheese grits for nothing."

          "I'm really not that hungry, mama."

          "Just eat a little, son," said dad. He gave me his infamous please don't get your mother started look.

          Reluctantly, I sat down at the table and told her, "I'll take some grits and bacon but no eggs. Eggs make me feel bloated sometimes." I sat my backpack beside my chair.

          She put some cheese grits and bacon on a plate and sat it on the table in front of me. She then sat down in her seat and bowed her head to say grace. My dad bowed his head but as usual, I didn't. After finishing, she looked up at me and asked, "Why are you so worried about feeling bloated anyway? Watching your figure for some boy?"