Tell Me You Love Me: A Stand-alone | Young Adult MM Romance

Prologue II

• Photo above is how I picture Gerald •

Prologue II

[FLASHBACK:]

It was Summer 2004, I was eight-years-old. I was just your normal kid that liked to get into things that perhaps he shouldn't. It was a quiet Sunday morning, the gentle breeze blowing through the trees that stood tall above me, leaves cascading down into a heap of a pile on the green grass below. I've always thought they reached the Heavens that my Father used to preach so much about during his weekly sermons.

The pews were filled with people and the room was loud with chatter... so loud that it could rattle the walls in the small Baptist church that belonged to my parents. Father hadn't made his appearance yet and my Mother fidgeted beside me, probably wandering where her husband was and why he seemed to be taking so long.

I was wearing black shorts with knee-high socks that seemed to go on forever, much like the trees did that I could sit outside and watch in the evenings after school, just wondering how high up they continued to grow. My hair was combed back, to my Father's demand and to my own reluctance. I always hated the way Church folks dressed. I thought they looked like they were prepared for a funeral, or something.

Of course I never vocalized my curious thoughts. It would make Father angry. And when Father gets angry, you better get out of the way.

All of a sudden, the room got very quiet. I didn't have to lift my head to know my Father had just walked in. My Father was a very demanding man who radiated power... A power I never quite understood, but he always said it was a gift from God.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he starts, gripping the podium with his large, veiny hands, as he stares out in the crowd. I lift my head, meeting his eyes, a sign of obedience in our home, not daring to crack even a smile. "Today, we are gathered here on this glorious today to show appreciation for our Lord, Jesus Christ," he continued, staring out into the massive onlookers.

A sigh slipped past my lips. I hated sitting through these, even as a young child. My Father's booming, authoritative voice drifted through the room as he bowed his head in prayer, everyone around us, including my Mother, following suit.

I bowed my head, my Mother's soft hand finding mine as she grips it rather tightly. I never thought of a God when I prayed. I didn't even know if I really understood who God was, but I sure wasn't going to let Father know that.

According to Father, God is everyone and everything that ever was. God is all around us and he happens to be the creator of everything. But I couldn't help to wonder why if God was so in control, how he could let such awful things happen to people.

***

Church was soon dismissed. My Mother and I stood on each side of my Father as we acted like the perfect family, shaking hands with everyone who walked out of the double doors, a smile attached to our faces as if we were your happy, normal family.

We were anything but.

I had learned from a very young age that my Father was a heavy drinker. For a man that preached about turning to God and changing your life every Wednesday and Sunday, he sure looked like a hypocrite as soon as the bottle gets popped open.

"Lovely sermon, Gerald," My Mother says, staring into his eyes, lovingly, but I knew the truth. My Mother happened to also be nothing short of a train wreck. She wasn't a drinker, but my Mother was indeed crazy... Crazy to love someone who claimed to love everyone else so much, but as soon as the alcohol kicked in, he was a completely different person.