SIXTY-EIGHT: HOPE

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The first few days of school went by in a blur. Under normal circumstances, Hope was ecstatic about this time of year. She would be organizing her notebooks, sharpening her pencils, and colour coordinating her closet. But this year, she walked through life in a daze, never really paying attention to anything or anyone.

When her teachers spoke, she found it difficult to pay attention. Her eyes were red and sore from crying at night. Her throat had become dry and raspy, and yet somehow, no one seemed to be concerned. Oh, it's only Hope, I'm sure she'll be just fine.

And sure enough, those two weeks she had promised her parents were up. They would expect her to be back together with Matthew by now, slipping on her promise ring and falling back into his arms. Unfortunately for them, she had other plans in mind.

His parents were out that day and Hope felt thankful for this fact alone, allowing them the privacy she needed. They sat at his kitchen table, a box of tissues and two glasses of water between them. He was staring at her intently, waiting for her to start. Hope picked at her finger nail, then cleared her throat and sat up straighter, preparing herself for what was to come.

"I'm not going to beat around the bush with this," she began. "I cannot be with you anymore." He opened his mouth to say something but she cut him off. "And before you interrupt, just let me finish. I love you dearly. I truly do. And these last three years have been the best years of my life, so please, don't ever think otherwise," she paused to gather her thoughts. "But I just can't do it anymore. I've realized now that we cannot be together." She was fully aware of how she sounded. She sounded just like Faith. It made her heart ache even more. For she was doing to Matthew what Faith had done to her.
"Hope, what are you talking about? I thought you came here to apologize? To get back together with me?"
"I know. And I'm sorry that you thought that. I'm sorry that my parents thought that. But in all honesty, this isn't their decision to make. It's mine."
"I don't understand," Matthew said, perplexed. "What happened? What changed?"
Hope took in a deep breath, preparing for the words that would change her life as she knew it. "I'm in love with somebody else."
Matthew's face contorted. "What are you talking about?"
"While we were together, I fell in love with someone else."
"Who?" he gaped. "Is it Tommy McGill? I know he's always had a thing for you –"
"It's not Tommy," Hope said calmly. "It's Faith."
She watched as his face transformed from confusion to even more confusion. "Faith? What? But she's your best friend?"
"And I love her."
"As a friend –"
"No, Matthew, you're not understanding," Hope said slowly. "I am in love with Faith."
He stared at her again. "What are you saying? You have feelings for her? For a girl?"
"Yes."
"That's insane," he sat back in his chair. "You're not gay."
"I'm bisexual," she said, remaining composure. "I believe that I have feelings for both males and females. Hence why I was in love with you. But also how I was able to fall in love with Faith."
He was breathing heavily through his nostrils, eyes darting everywhere. "But," he stuttered. "You can't be gay. You can't be homosexual. That's a sin, Hope. Do you know what God will think?"
"I do," she said. "And quite frankly, I don't care. Because if God cannot accept me for who I am, then I don't want to be accepted by him."
"You're out of your mind," he told her. "What has happened to you? What has that girl done to you?"
"She's shown me who I truly am, Matthew. Something you could never do."
"You don't know what you're talking about."
"I do."
"You've truly gone mad."
"Stop," she said sternly. "Stop disregarding my feelings. Stop treating me like I'm some idiot who doesn't know how to think for myself."
"But you don't!" he nearly yelled. "You don't know what you're talking about. You're clearly having a psychotic break. You need help, Hope."
"I don't."
"You do. You're either mentally incompetent, or you're experiencing some kind of delusion where you believe that you are gay, and in both cases, you need psychiatric help."
"You'll never understand. And I don't expect you to. But please, stop acting like you do."
"I will help you, Hope," he leaned forward and grabbed her hands. "I promise you. I will get you the help you need."
She pulled away from his grasp. "I don't want your help. I don't need help."
He stared at her, carefully studying her. "Okay," he nodded. "Okay."
She nodded her head and then stood slowly. "I hope we can still be friends," she said.
He put on a small smile and nodded. "Me too."

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