Behind Closed Doors

Chapter 4

The Bennetts left about an hour ago, and father wasted no time making sure I got "what I deserve". I then took a bath to sooth myself and am now standing infant of the mirror brushing my wet hair, when suddenly, I hear the crying. Loud and piercing, echoing through the door into the walls of the bathroom. Then come the screams, muffled as if they are being yelled into a pillow. I race out of the bathroom. I could recognize that cry anywhere, that scream.
Cate.

Her and Esme's bedroom door is open, but Esme is still downstairs helping mother clean up from dinner, so it's just Cate in the bedroom. She's laying face first on the bed, her face smothered in the pillow as she lets out another sob. I approach carefully, wanting to learn what's wrong, but also not wanting to overstep my boundaries. This is my life as the eldest sister; the constant game of tug-of-war going on inside my head at all times. The back and forth between wanting to help my sisters, to make them feel safe, and wanting to give them freedom.
The struggle between being
a fun sister and a motherly figure.
The fine line between being responsible
and being overbearing.

But ultimately, I must make a choice. Right now, I need to be a motherly figure, I need to be responsible, I need to help her. I quietly say Cate's name, and she turns around and looks at me, her eyes red and swollen from crying. "What?" She says, her voice weak and hoarse. "What's going on?" I ask, nervously. My mind starts raking through all the possibilities from a failed test to a teen pregnancy. "Nothing, okay." Cate responds. "No, I know it's not nothing." I press, "Come on, you can tell me. I promise not to say anything to mother or father." Cate knows I would never do anything of the sorts, but I remind her anyway. She looks at me with an expression of nervousness and contemplation, the same look that I recognize from all of our years as sisters. It's the same look Cate has when she agrees to cover for Esme or Lilia when they want to sneak out, the same look she has when we gossip about girls at school without getting caught. When Cate looks at me like this, I know that she is about to give in.

"I'm gay!" Cate bursts out, the tears springing to her eyes again. "That's why I looked so miserable tonight. That's why I didn't have, nor will ever have, any interest in Brady. I didn't want anyone to know because you know how father is, but I guess that's ruined now, huh." I'm speechless. I know I should say something comforting about how I still love and accept her, but I can't muster the words. Instead, I just stand there, staring at a tiny water stain in the corner of the wall. Cate looks at me, her whole face deflating, any hope that she had that I would be happy for her vanishing. "Never mind. Just, forget what I said." She says sadly. "No," I shake my head firmly, finally finding my words. "I'm not going to forget. I'm not mad though, just in shock. I want you to know that I still love and support you, okay?" I say, sitting down on the bed next to Cate. She nods, tearfully. I'm tearing through my brain, trying to think of something I missed; a clue or instance that showed Cate's true identity, when suddenly, I remember.

It was at home in Chicago last March. The trees were beginning to grow buds and the birds were singing. The wind was whispering through the trees humming a delicate tune, and mother had just hired a new garner to plant her azaleas. Cate had been attending improv classes at Second City, and at the end of the session, the class performed a short production for family and friends. Indubitably, father and mother came, forcing all of us children to come along as well. It was all part of our families constant act, our performance to be a picture perfect family.

 When the Clairmonts enter a room, not doubt is uttered, not a suspicion is raised. People simply smile, talk to father, compliment mother, blissfully unaware. Never wondering why we're often late to school or frequently miss phone calls. Never wondering why we rarely invite out friends over and wear long sleeves to school, even in the middle of May. All of this because of status. Because a man with so many friends and so much wealth could never hurt his family.

We came to the performance early, because that's what perfect families do. We saw all of the students running around and chatting with one another, occasionally fastening an extra bobby pin into their hair, or doing a last minute makeup touch-up. Cate was in the corner of the stage, talking to another girl. She was average height, and had flawless dark tan skin and brown eyes. Cate must have said something funny, as the girl laughed and flipped her short dark hair over her shoulder, revealing a purple colored under layer. At the time, I just assumed that she was a friend, one of the many that Cate seemed to have made at Second City, but looking back, the way they were interacting was different than I have ever seen Cate behave. She was looking at the other girl with a sense of wonder and adoration that I'm now realizing didn't seem completely platonic. "Cate," I ask gingerly, "do you have a girlfriend?"

Cate stares at me for a second before answering. "Yes." She says nervously, "Her name's Alisha, and we met at Second City last spring." I nod as the pieces finally all fall into place. Cate seeming so uncomfortable at dinner, the constant texting, and the awkwardness whenever Esme, Lilia, Izzy or I bring up guys. It breaks my heart knowing that Cate had to hide such a big part of herself from us, but at the same time, I understand. Father is blatantly homophobic, and mother listens to whatever he says for fear of the repercussions.

But really, I can't be mad at my sister for hiding her secret, because I've been hiding one just as big. Three years ago, I did something I'm not proud of. It seemed like my only option at the time, the only possibility of escaping. When it comes down to it, people will do anything in order to survive.