The Summer of the Rest of Our Lives

Chapter I Part II

Cooper:

Most times when I drink and sit with Heather listening to music, I can't help but think about my life and what a shit hand I was dealt by God.
I've known I was gay since I was at least 10. Idris Elba was the person to start my gay awakening. I can't remember what I was watching with Grams but I remember I just wanted more of him. More of him on the tv. At this point in my life I was a devout Christian. I would have given my life for the Lord. So I was met with a lot of confusion. Why am I attracted to a man? Why would God let this happen? No this can't be right. I must have done something wrong and this is a form of punishment. I will repent tonight and be forgiven by morning. The next morning I was met with only thoughts of men. It suddenly became very real that I was gay. I blamed myself for a long time, for having done something wrong. It made me pray more, and more. But I eventually started growing distant from faith when I realized that being gay isn't a choice, or a punishment. It's real. The amount of online quizzes I did assured me there was really nothing wrong with being gay outside of religion.
God made me. God gave me life. If being gay is a sin, and He would Damn a homosexual to Hell for it, why did he make me - one of his children - this way? I didn't understand why He put me here when I'm doomed to Hell. At 10 years old, having an existential crisis. It was misery. Living with a fear of your own creator. Hearing nothing when you try to pray. No sign of change, or forgiveness. Life seemed meaningless when I followed Him.
Then I told Heather about how I felt about God. It sort of slipped out one night when we were watching a show. Grams had gone to bed, and I had offhandedly said 'I hate God' which struck up the best conversation I've ever had. She told me how she felt a similar way, unseen and unheard. Left behind. Abandoned. Then I told her I was gay. She was honestly excited. She said she wanted a sister to talk about boys with and that I was even better than a sister, because I was me. She was the light I needed when things were darkest.
My problem with God now is because of my upbringing, and how I was raised to perceive Him. I want to believe in a loving and caring creator, but it's not possible for me anymore. All of these questions I've had, added to how He let my parents die when I was 4, really broke my faith. I still believe in Him, for them. It hurts to think that when someone is gone, they're gone for good. It's just easier to believe my parents are with Him in eternal paradise.
I only have one memory of my parents. My first memory really. My dad was driving the car, my mom in the passenger seat. Me in the back behind my mom. I could see my dads eyes through the rear view. Music was playing. A 70's or 80's song. I've never been able to find the song, but I know that if I were to hear it, I would know it. They were happy. We were happy. Then my dads eyes looked scared. Terrified really. I wasn't panicked. Just sitting in my car seat, unknowingly observing the moments before their death. Then it's a blur after that. I think the next thing I can remember is being at church with Grams and Alexa on either side of me. Their funeral I think.
A semi had struck the cars left side, sending it spiralling off the road and into the tree line. Dad was dead instantly from what I was told, and my Mom succumbed to injuries in the hospital. I left unscathed. Which of course, led to everyone in town saying I was saved by God. But I wouldn't call it Him saving me. The manufacturers of the car seat are the saviours. All God did was take away the two people who are supposed to mean the most to me.

The sun is setting fast. The orange and pink tones in the sky are Heathers favourite colour. You can tell by how she looks at the sky around this time.
The headlights are on and shining past the homes in the trailer park. We pull up to her home and hop out, entering the small living room. It's cozy in here. The couch is built into the left side of the trailer, with a tv across from it. Partial walls behind the tv to separate the living room to the kitchen and dining. In the back is the bedroom. I'm not entirely sure how Heathers family managed to live here for 12 years with three people. But they did it.
The bathroom cupboard still has Heathers moms old pills. From pain killers to antidepressants and benzos. They've sat there for years. Untouched. I think Heather keeps it as it is, because thats how it was right before her mom passed. It's really all she's got. The memory.
Her dads things aren't around however. He left by choice and didn't bring Heather with. She resents him for it, as would anyone. So she put most of his things in the shed.
Grams has compared Heathers dad to white trash on several occasions. Solely for his reason to leave. 'Because he couldn't live while being reminded constantly of his dead wife. The reminders were the town and Heather.'
Heathers mom was a kind hearted person. I remember being over and she would make the best blueberry pancakes. She would also teach Heather and I about African-American history in America, as the school barely touched on the subject. Heather would often worry about being treated different from me because of the colour of her and her moms skin. I now understand my privilege because of the things she had taught us and I see the systemic problems.
It was terrible when she got sick. I didn't see Heather anywhere for a whole summer. They'd moved to a hospital in Portland temporarily while they waited for her treatment to finish. Cervical cancer was the start, but it spread quickly and she didn't make it through her last week of chemo. Heather was quiet for the first time in forever when she came back. I knew she was in a dark place. All I could do was be there for her, as much as a 12 year old can.
Then the following spring her dad decided to leave. He brought Heather over to Grams and her dad and Grams talked in the living room while we hung out in my room, calling the boys from school who had been rumoured to like her.
Grams came in the room without Heathers dad. He'd left. No final goodbye. Heather says he's been back home since, but I've never seen him since the day he left. Grams had grown up in the foster system and didn't want Heather to go through it so she was her legal guardian while her dad worked across the country.
Child protective services showed up maybe twice. Got a few signatures from Grams then gone. We'd go over to Heathers house whenever she asked, and either clean or just cook a dinner. Make use of her home, because her dad was still paying the bills on it surprisingly. Grams never let her stay there by herself though. But since she turned 18 in January, she stays here or at Grams with me whenever she pleases.