Origami | YA LGBT

The Goldfish

When I came back home after the unfortunate Janet's breakdown, I felt kinda different. The fact of spilling out such words from my mouth was really relieving, and the heavy load that implies to be hidden for so many years gave itself a break. But I knew it was just the first step in a long yellow brick path.

That poor religious girl was nothing but a scapegoat, which made me feel a little bit sad. She only wanted to fit with the other gals from school. She wanted to be one of those with their big first-time stories and discover the implications of sexual affairs.

I, by the other hand, had never had the necessity of involving into physical and emotional contact with another person. Til the next Friday.

Watching all this gorgeous couples and their romantic plans at prom night, made me want to feel the same way. Dancing on my own and getting completely drunk to forget the fact I was unhappy with myself weren't the best choices to end up my time at High School.

Oh. That reminds me of the Mr. McKagan's incident. Yeah, that helped me more with my coming out than I thought.

Mr. McKagan was my father's beloved goldfish. It was named after the infamous Guns n' Roses' bassist and a farewell gift from his former garage band companion, Herb, who moved to Manchester not so long ago. Herb's family used to breed fishes for a living, so this present was really meaningful to Dad.

The same night prom was held, I came back home around 2 a.m.. Griffy was sleeping next to the stairs, so I had to be really sneaky to avoid making any noise. So I started to walk on my tiptoes with my shoes on my hand, trying not to trip over. Alcohol had made its job on my mind and I felt even clumsier than I am used to be.

Unfortunately, by the time I was managing to reach the first stairstep, the stupid dog suddenly woke up and my first reaction was to lift it up to prevent any barking. The problem was that she started to tremble in excitement, anxious to play with me. But even before I could did anything, I felt backwards on the entrance's coffee table where the fish bowl was.

You know the rest. Poor Mr. McKagan ended up in a grocery's plastic bag and I'd never seen my father so sad for a pet loss. But, apart from that, I thought my parents scolded me for the fact of being drunk and not because of the goldfish's death.

A bit torn apart, I decided to bury it in the garden the morning after. While I was digging the little hole in the ground, I started to think about the feelings that made me get drunk, to come back home earlier and then to accidentally give death to the fish. I desperately needed a new direction before starting to tease everything (and everyone) that was on my way. So, McKagan's burial turned out to be my old self's as well.

Maybe Unlucky Janet and the goldfish were just collateral effects of my change of perspective. But now, seriously, I was ready for the real deal (Was I?).