Prisoner #56

Chapter 7

I quickly packed up my overnight bag and checked out of the hotel. While waiting in the lobby, the front desk processing my stay, I looked around for any trace of my friends. Someone waiting for me, that what my friend had said wasn't true, that he still wanted to be my friend, or any of my other friends for that matter. Yet, there was no one I recognized, not one car looked familiar. They all left without me, leaving me by myself in Seattle. I got a sinking feeling in my gut. They knew what happened. They know what I am now, and they want nothing to do with me.

A gay man.

Once I checked out, I drove through the lobby doors, a bright, sunny day greeting me. The light blinded my eyes, sending a burning sensation through them as my hangover still hung heavy over me. My hood was pounding from dehydration. My stomach was growling as I hadn't eaten anything, but I couldn't keep anything down. Truly, I felt awful. The worst I had ever felt in my life.

I sighed. The feeling of anticipation about hitting the road, knowing I had to make the drive of shame back to my home hurt even more. To my wife, to my kid. To tell them the truth, to tell them what I really am. That I had deceived them this whole time.

That I am a gay man.

What would my wife think of me? She would automatically want a divorce, for sure. And my son? Would he be ashamed that I am his father? That I lied to him, that I had lied to myself for so long? That because I am gay, he would see me as less of a car than I already was?

I gulped nervously as I finally drove away from the hotel, pulling onto the main road which led to the highway. As I merged into traffic, I wished there was some way I could turn around, undo this, go back to the way things were before that weekend. Yet, I knew things would never be the same. I did what I did. The damage was done.

I remember coming home. My wife opened the door and as our eyes met, I remember how fast my heart beat. How dry my mouth was, my nerves tightening me up so bad that I almost couldn't drive through the door to face her. As I pulled into the house, she slammed the door behind me. When she saw how ragged I looked, she demanded to know what had happened. She glared at me, and I know she didn't trust me. She knew that me going away for the weekend was a bad idea. That I should have listened to her. I probably should have. Then, my son drove into the room. He's a 2005 Pontiac Bonneville, who has the same beige color body and blue eyes as me. Even when he saw me, he looked at me uncertainly, full of doubt. He knew something was up.

Yet, when I was put on the spot, that I had to reveal myself, I realized...I, I couldn't do it.

I lied. I lied about that weekend. I told my family that I got in a fight at the bar. My friends were disgusted with how drunk I was and the fight and never wanted to speak to me again. That they left me alone in Seattle. That I was sorry it happened, and I couldn't take it back.

I think my wife and son believed me, at the time, as they never brought it up again. They just saw how tired and worn I was that day and let me go to our bed and sleep. Yet, I knew something was broken with our trust and our family was never going to be the same. It wasn't good before, and back then I knew it was only going to get worse.

You see Shiloh, I should have said something. That was the right thing to do. However, back then being gay wasn't as accepted as it is now. There weren't a lot of rights or respect for our lot. It was a thing to be shameful of, ridiculed, the butt of a joke. You were lucky if you didn't experience any violence for being who you are. It was an awful time.

When I realized what I was, all there was, was well, shame. I didn't want to be gay. I tried, I had tried so hard not to be and it didn't matter. No matter how much I denied it, pushed it down, that's who I was. My friends found out, and they shamed and abandoned me because of it. How else was I supposed to think? I thought everyone would react the same way when I finally came out, so how could I not be sacred shitless to think what my family would think of me? How they reacted to me being in a fight was bad enough. I can't imagine what would have happened if I told the truth.