My Home Is With You [LGBT+]

Two

THE DISORIENTATION MAKES THE DIZZINESS worse as I manage to flutter my eyes open.

My head pounds with a blinding headache and I reach back with a trembling hand to touch the place the pain radiates from most. I wince at the sharp sting and when I pull my hand back, I can see flakes of rusty red on my fingertips.

With a pain filled groan, I push myself up on my elbows before I'm carefully crawling to my room.

I use the bed as support for my weight when I manage to push myself onto trembling legs.

With a deep breath I close my eyes tightly shut, the world is still spinning and dark spots swim in front of my blurry vision.

What should I do?

Tears slip past my clenched eyes as the first sob finally escapes.

What do I do?

It's not like I have a job. I was a full-time student, and my parents rejected the idea of letting me work until I got my degree.

And now, I'm lost.

I use the wall as my clutch to make my way toward my parents' room. The blanket is nearly falling off the bed and I pick it up and crawl atop the sheets. It's cold.

Shivering I bury myself in the furry blanket and try to sleep, try to forget about this nightmare. Try to pretend this isn't happening. It can't possibly happening, not to me, not my family.

It works for a minute.

As my vision slips into darkness I can just pretend that everything is okay and that my parents are right outside talking and laughing. It makes the ache hurt less. That is, until morning comes.

I find myself rudely awoken for the second time within a span of twenty-four hours.  A loud ringing echoes throughout the empty apartment and all I can do is squint at the streaming sun filtering through thin blinds. Eventually the sound becomes unbearable, and I find myself overstimulated to the point that my frustration continues to grow with each ticking second.

I reach for the annoying thing as I watch people walk outside through the window, talking and laughing. It's too fucking early for this.

How can they be so happy when I'm so miserable inside? How can today look so perfect when I feel like I'm slowly dying?

Finally I find what is causing all the ruckus. My mom's cellphone is blaring for attention, and I find myself trying to make sense of what I'm looking at. The caller ID reads Abogada, and I immediately know it's the lawyer taking my mom's case for residency. When it finally clicks that this may the answer to all my prayers, I answer the call with a grunt, "Hello?"

"Hello?"

Ah right, she was probably expecting my mom to answer.

"This is Oseias," I sniff, "Oseias Lopez."

"I'm glad you answered Oseias, I just wanted to inform you that I spoke with your parents," the lady begins kindly.

I silently nod before realizing I should probably give her a verbal response, "What's going to happen? Are... are they going to be deported?"

"Unfortunately," she sighs a bit weary, "I've already sent the papers for your mother's residency, but that can take a few months up to a year or more, so the best bet is that they'll deport her, so she'll have to wait in El Salvador until it's processed. But I can't say the same for your brother and father."

"But if she gets her residency, my dad will have to come too, right? Since they're married," I wonder hopefully.

"Of course, but it may take longer for him since he has been here illegally for years and has a record."

"But it was expunged," I protest.

"It's still something the government needs to know of to make sure he's not a danger to society-"

"He's not!"

"I know that, they'll know that, but it's a process." A pause, "You'll be receiving letters with the progress of your mother's case. When everything is approved, we can start trying to bring her back."

"In a year?"

"If not more. Each case is always different."

I bite my lip. I want to scream in frustration.

"Oseias?"

"Yes, I understand, thank you."

The line goes dead, and I stare at the phone, my mom's phone, with dull, red-rimmed eyes.

A knock on the door startles me from my dark contemplation, and I carefully go and see Sergio standing in the doorway looking run down.

My heart drops.

I don't have any money, and, in a month, I'll be kicked out. That's what he says will happen if I don't manage to pay rent.

It's his job to inform me, and I already knew as such.

Just... fuck... can't they just give me a few days to just... just assimilate the fact that I'm completely alone now...

I just lost my family.

I can vaguely hear children crying next door and I can't help, but join them with my own silent tears as the door finally closes.

How am I supposed to come up with $1,150 every month?

Not to mention the bills I'll have to pay as well.

I sink down to my knees.

My entire world crumbling and falling apart at the seams.

How am I going to survive a year, and possibly more, alone?

With trembling hands, I reach for my phone and start looking, I need a job.

I can survive without light and heat, but I cannot survive without a roof over my head.