Blackmailed
by Victor Thomas
Chapter 3
Kenny
There it was, my old home, standing between other wooden houses in the quiet neighborhood. Everything was like it had always been, but on the other hand, nothing was. I felt like a stranger when I approached the front yard.
"Mom? You there," I said, knocking on the door.
I didn't see her car in front of the house, so I took my keys and opened the door. The familiar aroma hit my nostrils as soon as I stepped inside. The coats were hanging on the rack, organized by color, and there were two white candles on top of the table beside the door. So far, the only difference I noticed was the family bible on the living room coffee table. Normally, she kept it on the bookshelf.
"Anybody home?"
I knew the answer, but didn't want to act as an intruder when I approached my bedroom, or at least what had once been my bedroom. The door was closed, which was something I hadn't been allowed to do since entering high school when girls from my class began visiting me. Little did she know.
Not much had changed in the bedroom, but it didn't look like mine. She had made the bed, none of my clothes were lying on the floor, and on the dresser was a picture of Hannah and me. The room belonged to the perfect son she didn't have. Not wanting to see the room any longer, I closed the door and returned to the living room.
I sat on the couch and rested my head against my hands. Javier's parents were nice, but I couldn't stay there forever. They didn't have much money, and they already had two sons to feed. It was so sweet of Ms. Santos to offer me money to buy new clothes, even though she barely had enough to keep the wolf from the door.
What if mom doesn't want me back?
Fighting against tears, I repeated in my head the speech I had prepared. It was important to get her to understand that I hadn't chosen to be gay just to rebel against her, but on that same token, she probably wasn't ready to hear that I genuinely loved Javier, so I decided to keep that part out.
I wasn't too confident when, twenty minutes later, the sound of the front door opening startled me. I grabbed a cushion and held it against my chest, trying to put the kindest smile on my face. My heartbeat was racing when mom, dressed in her usual black and white affair, entered the living room and our eyes met.
"What are you doing here?" she blurted out, her face hard as stone.
My practiced speech vanished and escaped to the farthest and darkest corners of my mind.
"Um… I thought we should talk."
"Talk then, but first, help me get these to the kitchen."
She took her groceries from the porch and set them on the floor.
I sighed and stood up. She wasn't making this any easier, and carrying her bags to the kitchen was hardly all I had to do to get her signature on the peace deal. I hoped it was at least a good start.
"Next time, let me know before you come to my home." She put her big leather purse on the kitchen table and looked around. "Are you alone?"
I nodded. There was a hint of satisfaction on her face, which made my stomach quiver. I emptied the bags, giving myself a moment to gather my courage, then I turned around to look at her. It was now or never.
"Mom," I said. "I was… wondering if I could move back home."
"Have you finally come to your senses?"
Her mouth smiled, but not her eyes.
How was I supposed to answer that? I stared first at her, then the table between us, and finally my hands. After standing still for a moment, I just shrugged, not sure what it meant. I felt like a puppy out in the rain, desperately begging someone to open the front door.
"Please," I said with a voice barely louder than a whisper.
"Do you promise to study hard and…"
"Yes, I do."
A wave of hope flashed throughout my body. I didn't expect a family dinner with Javier, but if she let me live with her until high school was over, that would be all that I needed. For the first time since entering the house, a small smile grew on my face.
"Let's make some dinner," she said. "Would you peel the potatoes?"
"I, uh, sure."
Apparently, this means she had made up her mind and I could move back home. I was hoping she had missed me, at least a little, but I didn't want to ask. Having dinner together was our way of communicating that everything was okay. It had been that way for as long as I could remember.
As soon as she went to change clothes, I sent a short message to Javier, letting him know that everything was okay, and that I would eat dinner at home. The obvious next question, I didn't know the answer yet, was where I would be sleeping tonight. If it was in my own bedroom, I would miss his muscular arm wrapped around me, and everything that happened after that.
This sucks, but I don't want to spend the rest of the year being a charity case.
"Are you done?"
She came back to the kitchen, wearing another black dress and a gray pullover.
I nodded.
"Thanks, mom. I missed you."
She pressed her lips firmly together and walked to the refrigerator to get a package of chicken fillets and butter. I gave her a pan for frying the chicken, and began chopping lettuce for salad.
"How's school?" she asked. "Are your grades all right?"
"They're fine, the same as they have been."
"I'm glad at least your studies haven't suffered."
I kept my mouth shut and set the table with the old porcelain plates and silver cutlery I hated a bit less than before. I filled the water pitcher and set it in the middle of the table, before fetching two crystal glasses from the cabinet. All those would look ridiculous keeping in mind that we were eating some cheap chicken fillets and mashed potatoes, but mom was mom. Fifteen minutes later, we were ready to eat.
"I would like you to join me at church service on Sunday's she said.
"Um, I'll think about…"
"You haven't met with Reverend Fraser for years. And we all see the consequences."
The conversation wasn't going at all in the direction I wanted. I was practically a man, but here I was, taking orders from her like some five-year-old kid. It had to stop right here and right now.
"Javier and I…" I started to say.
"Could you pass me the salad, please?" she interrupted.
I took the bowl, which was well within her reach, and pushed it closer to her. She picked individual pieces of lettuce and moved them on her plate. When she raised her gaze, there was sorrow in her eyes.
"Darling, I just want to help you."
"Everything is fine," I said, confused.
"I'm glad you're coming home. That boy was a bad influence on you."
My eyes widened, and I dropped my knife and fork. It had been a mistake to come here and assume she had changed a bit. Nothing I said seemed to have an impact on her. I could have a more meaningful conversation with the tree in the front yard. It would at least listen to me.
"You'll be able to focus better," she continued. "And who knows, perhaps you'll find another nice girl."
A nice girl! Seriously!
"Excuse me. I need to think about all this."
My mind blank, I stood up and walked out of the house.
Steam coming from my ears, I burst into Javier's house. My mom could shove those goddamn nice girls up her ass. I sat on the bed and let the air flow out of my lungs.
"I assume it didn't go well," he said.
"No shit, Sherlock."
I had walked almost a mile before he found me and had said nothing during the ride back to his house. My mom had failed me when I needed her, but the worst was that I had been so damn naïve to believe she would change. Just a single thought of her sitting there in her gray pullover made my body tremble.
"Tell me what happened," he said.
"Same old bullshit!" I raised my gaze and mimicked her voice. "You'll find a nice girl to be with."
He was silent and looked at the big black sports bag on the floor between us. A few times he opened his mouth, like he was about to say something. He walked to the window, looked out, and leaned against the desk.
"Did she kick you out?" he asked.
"No! I just couldn't put up with it anymore. I guess she assumed we had broken up."
"Oh."
I closed my eyes and took a breath. Out of all people, why were my parents the biggest idiots? I didn't share a single common interest with my father, and for my mother, I existed only when she could tell our relatives how good I was at school, or how pretty my 'girlfriend' was. Dating the hottest guy at school wasn't an accomplishment she would brag about.
"Did she ask about me?" he asked.
"Mom? Seriously?" I snarled. "I mentioned you once, and she changed the subject immediately."
"Ouch. What if she needs some more time?"
"She'll never accept us," I snapped.
He sat on the other side of the bed, and sadness filled his beautiful brown eyes. I moved closer and rested my head on his shoulder. We sat there, neither of us saying anything, for several moments. Then, I heard a small sob. I wrapped my arm around him, but my boyfriend stood up and wiped his left eye with his sleeve.
"I think you should still try talking to her," he said.
I tried in vain to make eye contact with him.
"You do?"
How on earth would that help? If she wasn't ready to accept us, it meant she wasn't ready to accept me. If she even wanted a son, it would be someone else. Someone better. Someone straighter.
He paced around the room.
"I mean, you're clearly not happy."
"Really? What an astute observation."
It came out sharper than I meant it.
"Maybe you can live with her and not take everything she says so seriously or something," he said.
I groaned. It had been such a great relief to move to his house where everybody was cool. Well, everybody except Jorge. But there was still the growing uncertainty in my chest.
"Do you want me to move back home?" I asked, my voice low.
"I'm only saying you should give it another go."
Not listening, I felt my pulse quickening.
"I get it. This is a small room. It's too crowded here. You want your own space."
"Kenny…"
"You didn't answer my question," I snapped. "Do you want me to move back home?"
He maintained his composure, sat back against the desk, and looked at the floor. The silence between us extended and thickened until it felt like concrete. Part of me wanted to punch the air just to see if it would crack. Neither of us said anything until, finally, my blood began to cool off.
"I want you to sort things out with your mom," he said, his voice even. "It would benefit both you and your mom."
"Okay, but can you answer my goddamn question?"
"I didn't say I want you to go back home."
I raised my legs on the bed and wrapped my arms around them. Of all times, this wasn't the best to start arguing with him. He was practically my only family. The evening had been emotional, and perhaps I was overreacting.
"Sorry," I said, looking at my feet. "Can we just forget this? I want to get started on my homework."
"Sure. I'll get us something to drink."
He left, and while I watched him walking to the kitchen, I couldn't avoid thinking that something was wrong. I wished I had been able to pinpoint what it was, or how to fix it.
The following morning had been especially silent, and the school day was uneventful, except me missing most of what my teachers had said as my mind was wandering elsewhere. And now, I was wandering toward my locker after my last class, which might have been biology, but I wasn't quite sure.
What should I do?
Maybe Javier was right and I should talk to my mom again. On the other hand, I had never felt so reluctant to do anything than go back to that house again. Well, sex with Hannah was probably higher on the list, but listening to my mother's judgmental words held the second position.
I got to the hallway and waited by the doors until most of the students had picked up their stuff from their lockers. I was in no mood to deal with the crowd today. It didn't take long before the growing sea of students billowed through the front door and I saw my locker on the opposite side of the hallway. Javier ran up at the same time.
"Oh, hey!" he panted, trying and failing to open his locker.
He tried one more time before he got it open.
"Nice to see you," I said, trying to make it sound only semi-bitter. "Where were you at lunch?"
"Um, I had to talk with… Mr. Douglas."
He fumbled with his books, accidently dumping them out of his backpack, but using his body to catch them against the locker below us.
"About what?"
He focused on trying to get his backpack to zip back up. He frowned and tried again, but it was stuck. Cursing, he took the bag under his armpit so that the books would not fall out.
"Sorry. I really need to head to practice."
"Okay," I said. "I'll wait for you at the football field and study until you're finished."
"No, don't wait for me," he said. "I mean, the practice takes so long. You try to patch things up with your mom, okay?"
I lowered my head and let out a heavy sigh. The sound of his sneakers receded, and then the back door closed. I raised my gaze and saw only a glimpse of my boyfriend's back through the glass. No kiss, no hug, not even a touch. Just a reminder of the conversation I didn't want to have.
I took my books and slammed my locker closed. Why was he even thinking that talking to my mom today would be any different from yesterday? It was easy for him to say that when his parents didn't give two shits about what he did.
Dark clouds were overhead when I marched through the front doors. Unfortunately, the sky wasn't much brighter, even though it wasn't raining yet, one more reason I wasn't keen on walking home. I was about to turn around and go to the library when I saw Hannah approaching and smiling at me.
"Hi there," she said. "Where are you going?"
"I wish I knew," I muttered.
"Problems with Javier?"
I shook my head and said, "no, it's my mom."
The smile on her face faded, and she wanted to know everything that had happened the previous day. It took quite some time, but she patiently listened until I had finished.
"That sucks," she said. "But what did you expect. That she would join you at pride?"
"No, but…"
"Kenny, it's time to man up. Show her that you're not going to play by her rules."
I crossed my arms and stared at her, narrowing my eyes. This whole mom thing was giving me a headache, but a tiny voice inside my head whispered that perhaps she was right. I wasn't a kid anymore.
"Let's go," she said. "I'll drive you there."
"Where?"
One meaningful look was enough to tell me we were going to my home. I rolled my eyes, but followed her to the parking lot. She opened the passenger door of her car and made sure I sat down. Then, she walked around the car, sat behind the steering wheel and started the engine.
"Do we really need to do this?" I asked.
"Not we," she said. "You are going to do it."
"Fantastic. You're such a good friend."
Far sooner than I wanted, the car stopped in front of my home. She wished me good luck and drove away, leaving me standing in the front yard, still unsure of what to do. Mom's car was parked in the driveway, so at least I didn't have to wait for her this time. Actually, she was already standing by the door.
"Was that Hannah?" she asked.
"Yes," I said, and I saw a smile growing on her face. "But we…"
"Dinner will be ready soon. You should've invited her, too."
I felt my stomach tie in knots, and they only tightened more when she asked why I had left so suddenly the previous day. I wasn't sure how to answer, so I just followed her to the kitchen. The smell of lasagna filled the room, even though it was still in the oven. The table had been set for one person only.
"I didn't expect you to come," she said.
Me neither.
"I want to move back home," I blurted out. "But I'm still gay, and that's not going to change.
She puckered her lips, all traces of her smile gone.
"How can you know that?"
"It's just… how I am."
She sighed and walked to the cabinet to get another plate for me. I hoped it was a good sign. At least she wasn't kicking me out of my home immediately. On the way here, I had realized that we didn't have to agree on everything. As long as she let me be, it was okay. Not perfect, but bearable.
"I don't expect you to understand what Javier and I…"
"You can come home if you want." Her eyes were cold, hard, and flinty. "But as long as you live here, you won't go near that boy."
Authors deserve your feedback. It's the only payment they get. If you go to the top of the page you will find the author's name. Click that and you can email the author easily.* Please take a few moments, if you liked the story, to say so.
[For those who use webmail, or whose regular email client opens when they want to use webmail instead: Please right click the author's name. A menu will open in which you can copy the email address (it goes directly to your clipboard without having the courtesy of mentioning that to you) to paste into your webmail system (Hotmail, Gmail, Yahoo etc). Each browser is subtly different, each Webmail system is different, or we'd give fuller instructions here. We trust you to know how to use your own system. Note: If the email address pastes or arrives with %40 in the middle, replace that weird set of characters with an @ sign.]
* Some browsers may require a right click instead
