Info - secret relationship, parents prejudice against Jewish people, parents calling Jewish people the Jews, believing in the stereotype that Jewish people are stingy, abusive parents, hitting child, kicking out child
"Aren't we supposed to love everyone?" I asked desperately. Timothée and I had been secretly kissing in my room. We had a bit of a Romeo and Juliet thing going on. My parents were insanely strict Catholics and Timothée was Jewish. It didn't bother me but I knew my parents would throw a hissy fit.
I must've moaned too loud, or maybe he did and before I knew it my parents were hammering on my door. I technically wasn't allowed to have it locked. Timothée had come in the window like he usually did.
They'd caught us. Their eyes had found the Star of David necklace he wore. That's when the anger had started. They ordered him out of the house. However, he'd stayed in the yard, waiting to see if I was okay. When they threatened to call the cops he'd moved to the sidewalk, where he could still see in my window.
"Love everyone, not DATE everyone," my mother snapped.
"The Jews are who killed Jesus!" She yelled.
"JESUS WAS JEWISH!" I screamed. As it always went, prejudice wasn't backed by logic.
My father marched to my bookshelf. He grabbed my picture of the mother Mary and shoved it in my face.
"You're telling me," he spat, the spittle flying onto my face. "That you can tell Mother Mary that you enjoy kissing someone who was involved with killing her son, her baby?"
"Are you insane? He wasn't there. And I don't just enjoy kissing him, I love him," I shouted. My mother snacked my face and then grabbed my jaw.
" Be ye not unequally yoked together with unbelievers," second Corinthians 6:14!
"I love him," I said again.
"Oh yeah?" my father growled. "Then go out there with him. I bet his parents won't take in one of us, the stingy mother fuckers."
"Fuck you, you fucking stereotyping ass hole," I snapped and I was leaving as fast as I could. I was in Timothée's arms as fast as I could be.
"My baby, you have a hand print on your face," he said with tears in his eyes.
"I told them I loved you," I said. He pulled me to him and squeezed.
"They said I couldn't stay there and said some shitty things about Jewish people and said your parents wouldn't let me stay with you."
"I'm guessing they don't know you've met them and Nicole and Marc Chalamet love you," he said dryly.
"No, they don't," I sighed.
"It's okay baby, you can stay with me. I'm sorry you got hit," he said and rubbed my back.
"It's worth it for you," I whispered and he kissed me.