Teenagers
Looking Up
“Hey Frank. Why won’t you fucking call me back? You know I’m too scared to confront you at school! I don’t deserve this.” My voice shakes as tears of anger soak my eyes. “I told you…. Everything… I’ve been through so much, and still you treat me like a worthless piece of shit! Did I say something? Did I do something? I’m sorry if I did.” My face is burning now. I pause, not quite sure of what to say next. One thing that I am sure of is that I shouldn’t be apologizing. “You know what? Never mind…” I slam the phone shut, and throw it, using all my might. It collides with the wall, but it does not break. It never breaks.
The rain violently falls outside of the cold bedroom walls, drops slam onto my slanted ceiling window. Besides this soothing sound, the silence makes it difficult not to overthink things. I always overthink things. I’m a natural over thinker. That’s what I do. I ruin my own life by thinking too much, and there’s nothing I can do about it. It makes me hysterical. I get so sick of my own mind sometimes.
I’m home alone, as usual. I’m staying in my room, though. I always stay in my room. My room is the closest thing I’ve got to safety; the closest thing I've got to a refuge.
Mom and Dad hate me. They are as repulsed by me as I am by them. They hate me for running away, but not nearly as much as they hate me for being gay. We don’t really talk anymore. Whenever we do it turns into an argument. It’s not really worth it. It’s not worth the shouting and slamming doors.
If I could run away, I would. No second thought needed, I’d be out of here in the blink of an eye, and I’d never look back… but I’d have nowhere to go; nowhere to stay.
My train of thought is suddenly interrupted by the buzzing of my phone on the floor. I run over to pick it up, examining it for deep dents as I do so. There are no new ones that meet the eye. Good. I can’t afford a new phone, and there’s no chance in hell my parents would lend me the money.
Oh God. It’s Frank. Has he heard all the awkward voicemails? Shit! I consider ignoring it, but come to the conclusion that I would like to hear what he has to say in his defense.
“Hey. Sorry about the voicemails…” My opening sentence is far from confident.
His voice is as soothing as always. “Listen, Mikey. I’m so fucking sorry. I didn’t think. Oh god! Mikey, I’m an idiot!” I’m completely caught off guard.
“wha.. what?” I stammer, not quite able to proses what just happened. I was expecting fury, or embarrassment for kissing me.
“OH GOD!” He’s actually sounds upset, regretful even. He sounds like he's sorry, and the best part is: it sounds sincere. “I’m so fucking stupid! Dammit!”
“Excuse me? Calm down Frank. Why the fuck didn’t you answer me? I left you 7 fucking voicemails! 7! ” My brain works as fast as it can to try to keep up with the pace of my emotions. I think I’m angry. I never have the courage to be angry at someone, let alone to stand up to them. But the fury I feel today is far from the fury I’ve ever felt before. It might be because I care. I care about Frank; I care about his feelings towards me, and what he does to me.
“How dare you! How dare you not pick up for a week, you were nowhere to be found! Do you even understand how fucking scared and paranoid I was…. I… I…” I’m at a loss for words.
“I’m so fucking sorry! I swear! Shit! I’ve messed up! I’ve messed up big time… Like you said, you really don’t deserve this…” Shit, he heard the voicemails. “…and I understand if you never forgive me, it’s just that this was supposed to be a nice surprise…shit!”
Surprise? What surprise?
“What surprise?” I wonder.
He hesitates for a second. Not quite sure how to formulate it. “Well…. I’ve moved out...”
What!? “OH, you couldn’t even stop by to say goodbye! I get it”
“No! You don’t get it. I’ve moved out, not away. I still live in Jersey. I just have my own apartment now.” Oh, so he’s calling just to rub it in; the fact that he’s old enough to live on his own, where as I have to stay behind… I have to suffer. “I told my dad I was gay. Mikey, he fucking beat me! He fucking beat me to a pulp. It pushed me over the edge…” Oddly, he’s sounds… exited. Like a light bulb just went off in his head, and he’s seeing things brighter than he ever has. “I told him I loved you. He disowned me. He fucking disowned me!”
Wait… what!? Did he just say that he loved me.
“I’m so fucking sorry. He ruined my phone in the fight, I just got a new one, and saw the messages. I’ve been really busy packing and moving my shit the past few days. Plus I had to go to the doctors and get a few stitches... I know it's no excuse, but..”
“Oh my God, Frank! Why didn’t you tell me?” I feel horrible! Oh God! “I’m the fucking idiot, Frank! You have nothing to apologize for.”
“Hey, can’t we both be fucking idiots?” He jokes. “I was going to make it a surprise! A nice surprise. Well fuck that. I was going to invite you over, and you were going to be confused when I drove a different way home from school and...” He trails off. “Well fuck that, right?”
“Frank. It’s fine, really.” I really do feel fine about the situation. I can’t believe he was planning something so sweet, and I fucking ruined it. I’m the one who should be apologizing!
“No, Mikey. It’s not. I didn’t even think about you’re anxiety or trust issues. I completely forgot…..” I’m pleasantly surprised by the fact that his use of the word “issues” does not hurt me. I actually feel understood. He doesn’t say it in a degrading way, rather more of a we all have issues way.
“Forgive and forget, right.” There’s no use in arguing over who is more sorry. I just want to see him again.
“Really?” He sounds so grateful. It's flattering that he cares so much. I’m not used to it. “You wanna come over? I can pick you up if you’d like?” Tonight is a school night, but it’s only six thirteen. I’d love to hold him in my arms again. I’d love to see the apartment as well.
“Sure. Could you hurry? Mom and dad will probably be home soon, and I’d like to be out of here by then…” I can’t really imagine the expressions on their faces if I told them I was going to my boyfriend’s house. Can I call Frank that, my boyfriend? Oh God! My dad’s head might literally have exploded.
“Of course! My door is always open. Be right there.”
I’m left feeling so much better than I have in a long time. Communicating really does help. Could things finally be looking up?
The rain violently falls outside of the cold bedroom walls, drops slam onto my slanted ceiling window. Besides this soothing sound, the silence makes it difficult not to overthink things. I always overthink things. I’m a natural over thinker. That’s what I do. I ruin my own life by thinking too much, and there’s nothing I can do about it. It makes me hysterical. I get so sick of my own mind sometimes.
I’m home alone, as usual. I’m staying in my room, though. I always stay in my room. My room is the closest thing I’ve got to safety; the closest thing I've got to a refuge.
Mom and Dad hate me. They are as repulsed by me as I am by them. They hate me for running away, but not nearly as much as they hate me for being gay. We don’t really talk anymore. Whenever we do it turns into an argument. It’s not really worth it. It’s not worth the shouting and slamming doors.
If I could run away, I would. No second thought needed, I’d be out of here in the blink of an eye, and I’d never look back… but I’d have nowhere to go; nowhere to stay.
My train of thought is suddenly interrupted by the buzzing of my phone on the floor. I run over to pick it up, examining it for deep dents as I do so. There are no new ones that meet the eye. Good. I can’t afford a new phone, and there’s no chance in hell my parents would lend me the money.
Oh God. It’s Frank. Has he heard all the awkward voicemails? Shit! I consider ignoring it, but come to the conclusion that I would like to hear what he has to say in his defense.
“Hey. Sorry about the voicemails…” My opening sentence is far from confident.
His voice is as soothing as always. “Listen, Mikey. I’m so fucking sorry. I didn’t think. Oh god! Mikey, I’m an idiot!” I’m completely caught off guard.
“wha.. what?” I stammer, not quite able to proses what just happened. I was expecting fury, or embarrassment for kissing me.
“OH GOD!” He’s actually sounds upset, regretful even. He sounds like he's sorry, and the best part is: it sounds sincere. “I’m so fucking stupid! Dammit!”
“Excuse me? Calm down Frank. Why the fuck didn’t you answer me? I left you 7 fucking voicemails! 7! ” My brain works as fast as it can to try to keep up with the pace of my emotions. I think I’m angry. I never have the courage to be angry at someone, let alone to stand up to them. But the fury I feel today is far from the fury I’ve ever felt before. It might be because I care. I care about Frank; I care about his feelings towards me, and what he does to me.
“How dare you! How dare you not pick up for a week, you were nowhere to be found! Do you even understand how fucking scared and paranoid I was…. I… I…” I’m at a loss for words.
“I’m so fucking sorry! I swear! Shit! I’ve messed up! I’ve messed up big time… Like you said, you really don’t deserve this…” Shit, he heard the voicemails. “…and I understand if you never forgive me, it’s just that this was supposed to be a nice surprise…shit!”
Surprise? What surprise?
“What surprise?” I wonder.
He hesitates for a second. Not quite sure how to formulate it. “Well…. I’ve moved out...”
What!? “OH, you couldn’t even stop by to say goodbye! I get it”
“No! You don’t get it. I’ve moved out, not away. I still live in Jersey. I just have my own apartment now.” Oh, so he’s calling just to rub it in; the fact that he’s old enough to live on his own, where as I have to stay behind… I have to suffer. “I told my dad I was gay. Mikey, he fucking beat me! He fucking beat me to a pulp. It pushed me over the edge…” Oddly, he’s sounds… exited. Like a light bulb just went off in his head, and he’s seeing things brighter than he ever has. “I told him I loved you. He disowned me. He fucking disowned me!”
Wait… what!? Did he just say that he loved me.
“I’m so fucking sorry. He ruined my phone in the fight, I just got a new one, and saw the messages. I’ve been really busy packing and moving my shit the past few days. Plus I had to go to the doctors and get a few stitches... I know it's no excuse, but..”
“Oh my God, Frank! Why didn’t you tell me?” I feel horrible! Oh God! “I’m the fucking idiot, Frank! You have nothing to apologize for.”
“Hey, can’t we both be fucking idiots?” He jokes. “I was going to make it a surprise! A nice surprise. Well fuck that. I was going to invite you over, and you were going to be confused when I drove a different way home from school and...” He trails off. “Well fuck that, right?”
“Frank. It’s fine, really.” I really do feel fine about the situation. I can’t believe he was planning something so sweet, and I fucking ruined it. I’m the one who should be apologizing!
“No, Mikey. It’s not. I didn’t even think about you’re anxiety or trust issues. I completely forgot…..” I’m pleasantly surprised by the fact that his use of the word “issues” does not hurt me. I actually feel understood. He doesn’t say it in a degrading way, rather more of a we all have issues way.
“Forgive and forget, right.” There’s no use in arguing over who is more sorry. I just want to see him again.
“Really?” He sounds so grateful. It's flattering that he cares so much. I’m not used to it. “You wanna come over? I can pick you up if you’d like?” Tonight is a school night, but it’s only six thirteen. I’d love to hold him in my arms again. I’d love to see the apartment as well.
“Sure. Could you hurry? Mom and dad will probably be home soon, and I’d like to be out of here by then…” I can’t really imagine the expressions on their faces if I told them I was going to my boyfriend’s house. Can I call Frank that, my boyfriend? Oh God! My dad’s head might literally have exploded.
“Of course! My door is always open. Be right there.”
I’m left feeling so much better than I have in a long time. Communicating really does help. Could things finally be looking up?
11/2/13