Tick, tick, tick.
The sound of the clock was that of drums, banging loudly over and over. My mother crossed her arms as she sat on the dining table across from me. She impatiently tapped her feet against the ground and waited for me to speak. No words could break free from my clasped mouth. They hid, shackled from the possibility of disappointment. She continued to stare into my soul, peering for the truth.
Had everything I had previously known been a lie? The moments of closeness with Alison were but an illusion. A society that had morphed me into an acceptable person was nothing but a facade. I didn't understand love before, now I did. My feelings for Will were indescribable, a disorientating contest for truth. My mother studied my face, noticing my indecision and heavy breathing.
"Are you gonna say something?" she spoke.
My heart raced even faster. Before any trace of air left my lungs, I hesitated for a moment. Rarely, I would contain some self-control. I was desperately determined not to communicate my desperation to my mother. There was no possibility of escaping this conversation. All I could afford to let out was a disparaged chuckle. My mother caught this signal: it was the most lucid indication of uncertainty. I gulped. To comfort me, I shifted my body before articulating.
"Yeah," I haphazardly affirmed, "I just..."
Tick, tick, tick.
The clock clicked repeatedly. It resembled a heartthrob, pulsating to a sickening beat. My hands were light; I could feel each vein pumped full of blood. Each wave was another rush in my mind, another drop of sweat: another second lost to time. My lungs were collapsing as if a vacuum was absorbing each molecule of air.
Tick, tick, tick.
Still, the beating would not settle. It only rung in my ears, conceiving an echo of anxiety. My lips quivered, confounded by the lack of sound. A searing, burning sensation resounded in my stomach. It ate me away from the inside out. Soon, a prickling pain had encompassed my face. My throat constricted as I caught a breath. My mind raced, angered shouting circled me, ridiculing me for my inaction.
TICK, TICK, TICK, EVAN.
"I'M GAY," I screamed.
My mother gawked as she rolled back in horror. Her pupils reflected me, standing from my chair with a dejected expression. Indefinable abhorrence loomed in her eyes. My hands trembled with the awareness of my rage.
"I'm sorry," I softly muttered.
A detached sense of consternation overflowed my mind. No longer was I afraid; I was grieving my own turmoil. At that moment, my mother expressively forgave me.
"It's okay," she acknowledged.
Yet, my mother's subsiding expression of conviction jabbed me, ordering me to calm down. Tears reared from my eyes; there was no more I could accomplish. I had confessed.
Soon, my tears wanned, and all that lingered was cracked skin. My mother wordlessly stood and shuffled to the kitchen. It was late, and both of us hadn't eaten.
Sounds of pots clanging and water rushing filled the room with temporary solace. It was a familiar song, one that wasn't as dreadful as the clock. I could hear the soothing noise of a knife chopping through vegetables on a wooden board. It mirrored that of an instrument while the cascading water emulated a waterfall.
After dinner, I went directly to bed, still inarticulate.
"Evan, you look like shit," Alison observed.
I gazed aimlessly at the carpet; my eyes wouldn't shift.
"Uh, yeah, I'm shit alright," I countered with a smirk.
It was a seminar period. Jun, Will, and Ari were elsewhere, away from the table. Alison elected to stay with me. I wouldn't acknowledge anyone all morning, so she was quite apprehensive.
"Looks like someone's awoken from their slumber," she sarcastically noted.
"It's nothing, really," I reassured.
Alison knew something was wrong. Her eyes indicated curiosity and desire for knowledge. She needed to discover what had made me so miserable. To me, misery was a frequent occurrence, but Alison had an infallible gut feeling.
"Sure. I'm sure everything is all hunky-dory for you," Alison mocked.
Jun entered the room and spun his head toward me as his expression lit up. With him was Will, whose face held a similar animated grin. Nowhere to be seen was Ari; he must've been absent.
YOU ARE READING
New Kid
Romance"Why are you always angry?" was a common question for Evan Ross, a pessimistic high schooler with nothing going for him. No hobbies, few friends, and a mundane routine. Of course, something was bound to turn things around-the new kid. Ever since he...
