Chapter 13 — room boy
His bedroom door opens with a small, tentative creak. Josh hears it but makes no movement to see who it is — although he doesn't have think about it much. It's probably only Josie, coming in to check up on him. Again.
After the initial realisation that he likes a certain someone and that he is, well you know what, he went right to sleep — somehow at night, blanketed by the darkness, it didn't seem that big of a deal to him. He definitely didn't think of the consequences it could bring to him.
But he woke up the next day, and like a big wave, everything that he's realised poured over him and pulled him under, and he couldn't see a way out. He had a proper freak-out session only then.
What am I going to do now?
How can I face him?
How can I face anyone?
The thing with Josh is that he is perfectly okay that he is gay and that he likes bridge boy — more than perfectly okay. He feels positively happy.
But Josh also unfortunately happens to be someone who cares a lot about what others think, particularly about him. He hates it, but it's the truth. He often acts and behaves in a certain way that is socially-acceptable — he very rarely does something that might be displease someone.
He can't help it; it's something that he has been brought to believe since he was a child. It took him a long time to realise that it's even okay to put himself first. But realising something doesn't mean you're going to immediately start living by it.
Josh still finds it hard to just not care. The only way he knows how to cope with all this building conflict inside him is denial.
Pretend that everything is just as it was.
Nothing has changed. Josh has learned nothing new.
Fortunately, enough, he learnt that his father would not be in town for the upcoming few days, and so there couldn't be a more perfect opportunity. He decided he's going to stay right in his room and just... wallow is his own self-pity for a bit.
He asked Josie to inform the school that he's come down with a flu and that he wouldn't be well enough to attend any of the classes for at least a few days. Of course, she didn't agree at first and had many questions — since Josh has never been one to skip school at all — but he managed to bribe her by offering her his one week's worth of pocket money.
He doesn't think his mother has even noticed that he hasn't left the house in the last couple of days. Now, he only has to hope that no one from his school calls either of his parents to verify his absence.
Hope has very rarely stayed on his side however, so he should have known better.
If it were Josie, she would have made herself known by either loudly talking or plopping on the bed next to him, annoying him. But other than that small creak he doesn't hear anything else.
But just as he starts to pull the covers down, he feels a hand on his leg, and he startles, sitting up and yelling: "Go away, Satan. I bani–" his words die out as soon as he sees who it is though, "Mother?"
"Yes, Joshua," she huffs, placing a hand over her chest, shaking her head a little, "Satan? Really?"
"Well, I didn't know it was you,"
He isn't sure yet if he should feel relieved or not — he is certainly relieved that it's his mother instead of his father, but his mother can sometimes be a little... subservient, and bring this matter straight to his father.
He waits to see what she has to say before jumping to any conclusions.
She doesn't at first, and heads straight towards the windows, pulling the curtains up, letting the sunlight stream into his room. Josh squints at the sudden brightness, and blocks his eyes with his hand.
What time is it? What day is it? he wonders (not aloud; he doesn't want to worsen his case here)
"So, you think it's more likely to Satan to visit your own mother?" she asks, scoffing lightly.
Can you blame me? he thinks but instead asks, "What are you doing here? Don't you have... any book club meetings, or spa day, or whatever it is to get to?" he doesn't mean it to sound as accusatory as it comes out of his mouth.
He really shouldn't be pulling his luck here; it can very well backfire on him. But despite staying in his bed for days and not really doing anything, he is dog-tired. This is why Josh almost always never lets himself be idle for long; weariness always settles in and it takes a great amount of effort to be rid of it — the irony isn't lost on him.
"I'm...," she sighs, sounding a little dejected.
Josh raises his head a little, and finds his mother still standing by the window, hands fidgeting, face all pinched up in concentration. It seems like she has something to say, but no words come out of her mouth — she is not even looking at him, but at the wall behind him.
Begrudgingly, he sits up. He does not want to make things harder for her — it is a rarity in itself that she sought him out herself to talk. He pats on the bed, and leans back against the wall. She appears rather stiff, and it seems like she's the child her and Josh is the parent about to reprimand her instead of the way around.
Josh doesn't say anything, and waits patiently for her to say whatever it is she came to say to him. That is, if she does. She usually doesn't; Josh doesn't know if it's because she prefers that way, or she feels like she cannot speak her mind, but she never says anything to him or her sister, and only nods along to whatever his father says or decides. It's a one-man show really, his parents' marriage, although it may seem like the most harmonious bonding to outsiders.
Maybe that's why she never stays home a lot — outside of their house, his mother is a totally different person. She's bold, outspoken, and not someone who is satisfied with staying in the background; she has to be the one at the front.
"It's Saturday," she says at last, "You've missed four days of school,"
Josh has to resist the urge to roll his eyes: Of course, that's what she wanted to talk about. Why did I even think it was going to be about anything else?
"I–," he starts to make an excuse for him being at home, but Linda holds a hand up, stopping him.
"The school called me to check up on your continued absence. I told them you weren't feeling well,"
That Josh definitely did not expect from his mother and it shocks him — she lied for him?
"And your father doesn't know about this," after a short pause, "Yet," she scratches her arm, "What is going on, Josh? Are you okay?"
And the way she looks at him closely, waits for his reply, it makes tears well up on his eyes. Josh quickly looks down at his fingers, twisting them, taking in a deep breath. He is used to both of his parents not really caring about him, but only about the things he did, and their combined reputation.
But this — his mother sitting at the edge of his bed, looking at him closely, asking about him, he doesn't know what to do with it. He knows it should feel comforting, but right then, it only feels weird, stirring the sense of loss in him. She has never cared before, why now?
And it is also strange how he suddenly wants to tell her everything, not leaving a single thing out, and be in her arms — no feeling can ever beat being in the arms of the person you care about after all, isn't it?
However, he can't. Josh has made a habit of not really talking about his feelings — he knows it's not a healthy thing, but he's grown accustomed to it now. And it's better this way, he's convinced himself.
So, he takes in a deep breath, and when he's sure that he can speak without his voice wavering, he looks up and says, "I'm fine,"
Linda doesn't move her eyes away from her son. She has brown eyes, unlike Josh's blue ones — he got those from his father. Josh shares most of his features with his father, if not all. More often than not, he's been told he's an exact replica of his father — Josh has never wished more to crawl out of his skin than at those instances.
One more small push. If his mother has asked another time if he is truly fine, Josh is sure, he will have broken down. He doesn't know which he prefers more: for her to ask or to not ask.
A strange mix of relief and disappointment settles at the bottom of his chest, when his mother looks away with a small nod, "Okay. I'm hoping you'll go back to school starting Monday. Your father will be back then," she glances at him briefly before looking out the window again, "I won't tell him anything about... this. But if he finds you like this..."
Josh doesn't have the energy in him to be upset by that. His mother has always tended to his father's needs and expectations first, why should that change now? If anything, Josh only feels stupid — he scoffs bitterly, shaking his head, not realising his mother's still in his room until she speaks up once again.
"You know he always wants the best for you,"
"Uh-huh, yeah," he nods, "I think I'm getting a headache. Can I go back to sleep now?"
"Josh, I–,"
He doesn't meet her gaze. He knows she's not going to say anything as well. And as if to prove him just right, she sighs, shoulders deflated, and stands up, "Yeah, you get some rest," and then leaves.
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