Before It Became a Love Thing

Chapter One

SAVED BY AN ANGEL

For the first week of moving into my apartment, I was doing better than I thought. Don't get me wrong, at first, it was scary, everything was new to me. After growing up having things thrown at my feet, it was weird to do things on my own for once. But I liked it because even though I had it easy before, I never got the chance to make my own choices in life. My whole life was pretty much planned out by my mom.

And now that I think about it, the fact that she lend me a fifty thousand dollar check to get myself settled was nice of her. I just wish she saw things eye to eye with me on my sexuality. I never understood people's issues with being gay.

I never thought it'd be my mom. Nonetheless, the fact that she kicked me out because of it. 

I was sure that if my dad was still around he'd defend me, just as he used to. He always chose my side, because mom never had good reason when she decided on something. She never liked it, but we both knew she could be crazy. 

When I told her, we were in the kitchen and she was cooking. I just came from a friends house and I went to the kitchen because somehow on the whole drive home I convinced myself it was time to come out.

So I got myself ready, sat down because I was already feeling light headed from the pressure of it all. She had noticed I was watching her cook, and she smiled. "I remember when you were young, you always sat right there and watched me cook. Always had a question about the ingredients."

Her little girl is far gone. I wasn't even close to being the girl she held so close to memory. 

"Things change I said." Bracing myself for what's about to escape my very chapped lips. I felt my heart pound through my chest as the idea of me actually coming out was developing into a large pile of "maybe tomorrow's". But I hated that I was trying to run from speaking the truth. I had thought my mom would love me regardless, yet my heart was trying to pull me off the stool .

I should've listened to my heart, otherwise I'd still be home living the same safe life I grown to love.

"Are you okay honey you look a bit pale." She scrunched up her eyebrows as she turns her body to stare at me. "Let me get you some water, you're not looking good."

She handed me a bottle of water and I opened it gladly letting the cold liquid save my throat from completely drying up like the Sahara Desert. "Thank you."

She nods and gives me a concerned expression. "Are you sure you're okay?"

I nod. She comes to place her palm on my head anyway. "Okay good, you're not burning up. Maybe the heat of the food is affecting you."

She gives me a smile before she continues cooking. "What are you making?" 

She looks over her shoulder, "chicken noodle soup."

"Ou, that's like the best breakup food."

She laughs. "Did your aunt Hellen tell you that?"

"Last Christmas." She sighs. 

"My sister can be crazy sometimes." I couldn't help but think: You two are more alike than you think.

My mom was talking about our family members now, telling me how they were, and that my Uncle Jarred missed me, and that I should visit him anytime. 

As she spoke I couldn't stop thinking about my coming out speech, but that speech flew out the window when my mouth opened and decided it was on its own now. "I'm gay."

It was a blurt out that I didn't mean to make. Now my mom was silent and looking at me as if she crashed a dear caught in headlights. 

"What?"

I gulped. "I'm gay."

After that, we had a whole argument, because she began spitting out sentences like: Being gay isn't normal. You're my daughter you shouldn't be into your own gender. Your dad would be so disappointed. I bet it was those friends of yours that influenced this idea onto your head.

My dad wouldn't be disappointed in me, but at her. And plus, my friends had no idea I was gay, no one knew. I wanted to tell my mom first thinking that she'll have my back and support me, but I chose to tell the wrong person first, now I'm left with a suit case and a key to my apartment. 

After that night, my mom hasn't spoken to me. I didn't bother contacting her either. Not like I wanted to anyway, all she did was insult me, and made me feel bad for being who I am. I thought my mom was trustworthy, turns out I was wrong.

My apartment smelled like peppermint. I didn't know why, but I liked it anyway. I managed to get a bed, and couch this week alone. And I've been trying to complete all my class work, including trying to find a job. But it wasn't easy. Not one bit. 

I was still shaken up from our argument and now every time I close my eyes I see the hatred my mom held for me. She left me alone, but maybe it was better that way, after all, things happen for a reason.

The bathroom was really pretty, the walls were a light pink and the floor was white tiled. It kind of looked antique in a way, especially with how the tub looked. 

This apartment was my dad's. After he died, he had this apartment for when he had business trips when he came into the city. It felt nice, being in a place that was my dads. It felt like I had a part of him with me at all times. My mom only allowed me to stay here because it wasn't her's, and it was a win-win for both of us since I didn't have to pay bills. This place was payed off long before my mom kicked me out. My dad payed the bills for fifteen years before he died because he planned on taking me to a trip to the city for my birthday, and since I was supposed to come here anyway, it made sense to move in.

After those fifteen years are up, though, I planned on moving into a better apartment. I was just glad that even in his death bed, my dad found a way to save me. 

Save me from my mom's cruel ways.

 She was nice when she wanted to, but she was a madwoman. I don't blame her family for wanting to stay away, and when they invite me over, they never mention brining my mom along. I never knew why, but things are starting to click now as I'm growing up.

I don't know what my dad ever saw in her, but whatever it was, I hope it was worth it.

The kitchen was another story, it was too small, I liked it trust me, but I hated tight spaces, especially ones that cause you to hit your elbow everytime you were stirring something. After this week, I learned a way to avoid it.

Little by little I'm getting to know this apartment.

If only I had known that my apartment was the least of my problems.