*****TW: domestic abuse (verbal abuse, excessive swearing, and physical violence and abuse) I will put asterisks before and after the potentially triggering scene, if you want to skip over that part. It is still readable if you skip over it. love you.*****
I watched Esther grow. She was my entire life, save for school and my TV. As we grew up, we became constants in each other's lives. We took each other for granted, if I'm being honest. But not on purpose. We simply spent so much time together that life apart seemed ridiculous.
Elementary school came to its close slowly. In fifth grade, Esther and I finally decided to start going outside for recess instead of staying to talk to the teacher. Esther liked to walk around the soccer field and kick the ball back and forth with me while we talked casually.
However, now that we had started to make an appearance at recess, people turned their attention on us. A group of girls approached us one day, lead by a blonde girl with pink braces, thick mascara, and name-brand clothing.
"Why don't you act like a normal person and actually hang out with other people?" their leader asked us bluntly.
Her name was Brooklynne.
We didn't really know how to answer. Esther was silent: non-confrontational and private as ever.
I wanted her to leave. After a moment, I told Brooklynne: "Why don't you act like a kid and stop pretending you have sex with Jason?"
"Yes, she does!" Brooklynne's friend Amanda said supportively.
Brooklynne twisted her face into a mean scowl. "Whatever. At least I actually like guys."
"What does that mean?" I shot back. Girls were supposed to hate guys and guys were supposed to hate girls until we were in high school. That's how I understood it, anyway.
"It means, you're a lesbian." Brooklynne said.
I didn't know what that word meant. But the way she said it made my blood boil.
"What did you call me?" I demanded, walking right up to her and getting close to her face. "Say it again, bitch!" I didn't know what I was going to do if she did, but I was in too far to chicken out now.
"I said, you're a fucking lesbian."
I didn't know how to fight. I've never seen a real fight, only the ones on TV. I figured that the easiest move was to curl my fist, wind my arm back, and swing at her wire-filled mouth.
So I did.
That was the first time I ever got in real trouble. In fact, it was so surprising to my teachers and my parents that they didn't know how to punish me. My mother eventually got a call that explained that I had to be suspended, but only for a day.
My father was furious. I sobbed the entire conversation, and he screamed and screamed at me. I tried to explain that she called me a bad word, but when I told him what she said, he didn't even care.
"I don't give a fuck what that little white bitch said!"
*****
I sobbed more. I didn't like it when he swore. But he wasn't done.
"Her cunt of a father is demanding we pay to replace her fucking braces! Do you have that kind of fucking money, Paola? Huh? Where's the motherfucking MONEY, Paola? What went through your head when you decided to attack the fucking richest, whitest bitch in the whole motherfucking school? You're so fucking lucky you didn't get expelled, because if you did, I'd send you straight to juvie. You know what juvie is? It's jail, Paola. It's jail for little bitches like you. I don't care, I don't need some fucking stuck-up little smartass of a kid thinking she's smarter than everybody else living in MY FUCKING HOUSE, do you hear me? Who fucking taught you to act so conceited? Ha. Not me. I'll fucking beat your head into the pavement if I EVER hear about this shit. You better stay the FUCK away from that little bitch you're obsessed with. STOP YOUR FUCKING CRYING! Stay the fuck away from her. She's a bad fucking influence on you. God only knows I won't be raising a fucking dyke. No, not in my fucking household. Not here! You want me to go to Hell, is that it? I feed you, give you clothes and toys and whatever the FUCK you want! And you repay me by being a fucking lesbian, you spoiled little brat."
I threw up on the carpet then. I wondered if he would stop and comfort me, but he got even angrier. He grabbed me by the hair and dragged me into the bathroom and threw me on the floor.
Panicked as I fell, I grabbed the curtain of the shower and accidentally pulled the entire curtain rod down with me. He didn't care, he was busy going through the cabinet and the drawers and throwing everything of mine into my bedroom across the hall. Then, he left the bathroom and came back with a toolbox. I sat on the floor crying while he removed the doorknob entirely.
He left me in the bathroom for a few days. I cried for a long time and eventually I was exhausted and angry. I stopped crying loud enough for him to hear because I was angry and embarrassed and hurt.
When he finally opened the door again, he didn't say anything to me. He woke me up by turning on the bathroom lights and blinding me. I sat up and rubbed the places I was sore.
"Get ready for school. We're leaving in five minutes."
I walked out slowly, with a tear-stained, puffy, blotchy face. I walked miserably toward my room and opened the door.
I started crying again when I saw everything I had tossed into a giant mess on my floor. Drawers had been dumped and boxes had been emptied in the middle of my floor. My papers were all torn up and my drawings were as well. All of my stuffed animals were noticeably absent. A lump formed in my throat.
I walked out into the living room where my mom and dad were watching TV.
Carefully, I asked where my stuffed animals were.
"I threw them away." My dad said.
I tried my best to find my schoolbooks and get dressed before he drove me to school in silence.
******
At school, I didn't tell Esther much about my punishment at home. It was the first time I wasn't all the way honest with her. I just told her that my dad was really mad and that I needed to make friends with regular people in our class.
"Regular people?" she asked, but we both knew what that meant.
"I'm sorry," I said to Esther. It felt like my heart was blowing up in my tightened chest.
Esther was quiet and miserable. "I hate Brooklynne."
"Me too."
"Why'd you hit her?" she asked after a second.
I was a little confused why Esther was asking. She was there. "Because she called me a lesbian. She called you a lesbian, too."
Esther was quiet for a while, and when she spoke again it was about something else.
We spent less time together. She stopped going outside to recess, and I assumed she was back to talking with the teacher instead of playing outside.
I was self-conscious without her to talk with at recess. I felt naked and lonely and afraid. I tried to play on the playground, but Brooklynne's gang was always there and I was afraid that she'd want to fight me again, and I wouldn't be able to fight back. So, I started to play with the boys on the basketball court. I didn't have to talk to anyone, I could just run and throw the ball. Eventually, I was even on friendly terms with a couple of the boys that played.
At school, Esther and I barely even looked at each other. I think she knew that on some level I wasn't allowed to talk to her anymore, even though I never actually said so. She simply took note of how I was acting and adjusted herself to stop interacting with me.
And then, just like that, elementary school was over. I felt older than I was when I began.
The only time Esther and I got to be together was at church. While everyone prayed with bowed heads, I snuck glances at Esther and she looked back at me. We even smiled at each other, bitter and sorrowful smiles that made me cry when I went to bed that night.
I wondered if she was sad, or even angry at me, but I could never tell. She had always been able to guard her emotions so well.
