In Our Own Time

Some Confusion

A P R I L

I don't understand how I managed to get to sleep that night. For one, my mind was still racing with thoughts of Callum - so much that I almost started crying again. I wonder when I'd gone so soft.

Secondly, who does manage to sleep on the night before school starts again? Perhaps the people who actually enjoy school, I don't know. I'm definitely not one of them. I'm smart, that's for sure. I've been told that many times. Heck, maybe that's why I always act like an asshole. 'Cause teachers never teach me anything I don't already know, in some way.

I'll admit, though, my weakest subject is maths. But as long as you kind of get it - and you aren't making any plans to become a mathematician - then you're good, yeah?

A subject that actually does get the cogs turning is basically some sort of discussion lesson. We cover drugs, wars, moral shit, personal wellbeing, racism, knife crime. . . sexuality. You know, that kind of stuff. So we'll all grow up to be respectful and make good decisions and all.

I can't say that subject hasn't made me feel very uncomfortable in the past. Guess I just wasn't used to talking about things like that. Things regarding being 'different'. I'm not sure why it made me so uncomfortable, it just did.

As I said, I must've been going soft.

Luckily I did sleep. I'm one grumpy bitch when I'm tired in the morning. Mornings before school, doubly so.

So why did I still feel so shit anyway?

Mum knows better than to attempt waking me up, so luckily I didn't get any of that. My alarm clock was all the warning I needed. My eyes shot open on the second brrrring and I bashed my head on the wall behind me, before smacking the clock so damn hard it toppled to the ground.

Everything else went by in a blur. Getting dressed, having a wash, packing my stuff. . . It was only breakfast I remember well. 'Cause I still hadn't told mum what had happened with Callum, and knew all of hell would break loose if I didn't take this opportunity.

So I just grabbed it and dared not let go.

"Uh, mum. . ."

"Yep?" She poked her head up over the counter, giving me the most cheesy grin. Ugh.

"So, uh. . . Callum and I broke up."

That was enough to dampen her cheerful expression. Her mouth tugged downwards into a deep frown that didn't look like it belonged on such a youthful face. Yep, my mum's pretty young.

"Oh? I. . . I see. . ." I waited. For anything. For an 'it's okay', or something. But mum just stayed like that for ages, with a weirded out, contemplating look on her face. Quite honestly, it scared the shit outta me, 'cause I'd never witnessed that expression on any human being's face before. Heck, it'd still get to me now.

I opened my mouth to break the silence, but the mum's too quick. "Honey, you know. . . You can always talk to me about anythi-- Is it. . . Is it okay if I ask you a question?" She stared at me, her gaze heavy. Weighty, yet somehow lightweight. Able to shoot like an arrow right into my murky green eyes.

"U-uh," I choked, blinking back tears, for whatever reason. Why was I crying? "Sure." I said at last, having regained control of myself.

"You're not. . ."

I waited.

". . . Gay, are you?"

My jaw dropped, my throat ran dry, my eyes stung. I wanted to cry. I wanted to run and scream and kick and deny everything and anything for the rest of my life.

'Cause, what the fu-- what the fuck was my mother asking me?

"W-wha--"

Mum butted in again. "Because, well, it's perfectly fine if you ar--"

"I'm not!" I blurted, blood rushing to my face and resulting in a tomato flush, full of embarrassment and. . . shame. Why did I feel shame? I had nothing to be ashamed about! I wasn't gay. I wasn't bent. I wasn't a lesbian.

I didn't like girls.

. . . I didn't.

"Okay, okay! Honey, calm down, please! You'll wake the neighbour's kid." She nodded her head once, sighing exasperatedly as she returned to cleaning a saucepan.

A few minutes passed in silence. Shock was present in all features of my face. I bit my lip, scratched my dead-straight rust-red dyed hair, my eyes flickered nervously in their sockets, my legs couldn't keep still. I ate nothing. Mum didn't question it.

Finally, someone said something. It was me. At the time, I hardly realised I'd been attempting to speak at all. "When. . . why did you start thinking that?" I questioned, my voice level and serious. Even if it had wavered, however, it wouldn't have made a difference. Any idiot could see the confusing emotions whirring through my brain at that moment.

Mum didn't stop scrubbing the pan as she answered, though she paused for a moment to consider my question. It both thrilled me and scared me that she was that set on giving me a good answer. Was there a lot of things to think about? Had I shown many symptoms?

"Well," She cleared her throat. I could automatically tell she was uncomfortable, though of course she'd set herself up for that. At the same time, I could also sense confusion flashing across her features as she burnt holes into the side of the pan with her eyes. It only occurred to me later that she may have been contemplating why she was so uneasy. "You. . . are quite a physical one. You always were. Quite like a boy, in that respect. You hug your friends tight, you know? You blush easily when your friends are arou--"

"I can't help that," I shot at her.

"Of course you can't, I get it. You also wear quite boyish clothes. . ."

"That's a stereotype." Am I trying to defend gay people? Nah. I'm probably just angry about being grouped in with them for stupid reasons, right? Yeah, yeah. Right.

". . . Okay, granted. My comeback to that is stereotypes are made because more than just a select few fit into them. I'm sure there's also loads of very girly lesbians an--"

"I'm not a freaking lesbian!" I cried, venom trailing into my voice. I angrily scratched the wooden surface with my nails. It hurt, but not nearly as much as this hurricane of emotion roaring inside me. I wanted to scream I felt so pained, and I wanted to scream even more because I didn't understand why I was so pained.

"You know what, April? Just go. Go to school. I never should've brought this up in the first place. Leave. Now." With that, she dunked the saucepan back into the soapy water and left the room without another word.

In a fit of pathetic, irrational rage, I hissed back at her, "Callum split with me, not the other way around!"

Mum was having none of it, but neither was I. I grabbed my bag and was out the door headed for the bus stop a minute later. All the while my thoughts were occupied with Callum, mum, and-- . . . And girls kissing. I shook my head quickly, shuddering.

Goddamn Callum, leaving me like this. I'd stay with you if I could.

. . . I would, wouldn't I?