His Sister

Healing Old Wounds

 I don't know how long I've been sitting on the back porch when my mom comes out of the house and asks me if I want anything to eat. I shake my head and she hesitates for a moment before leaving. I hear her talking to my dad in the kitchen. Their voices are muffled behind the closed window, so I can't exactly make out their words. Not that I care, anyway. Lately I'm sure all they can talk about is how much of a fuck up their only child is. I feel like I've done nothing but disappoint them. It falls silent in the house and I decide that I'm done wallowing in my self pity for now. I stand up and walk into the house, nearly having a heart attack when my dad yanks me into a bear hug.

He wraps his arms around me and for whatever reason, I completely lose it. I break down and start bawling. He picks me up like he used to when I was little. I can't believe he can still do it. I cry as he carries me all the way up to my bedroom, setting me down gently on top of my bed. He pulls the covers over me and brushes his hand through my messy hair. I don't want to open my eyes. I'm tired of everyone looking at me like I'm broken. He wipes away one of my tears with his thumb.

"Don't cry, Tara... Don't cry." He says quietly.

I sniffle and wipe at my eyes. I finally dare to look at him. He's frowning down at me, but he isn't looking at me like I'm some sort of helpless child. Sure, there's concern on his face. But he isn't seeing me as wounded.

"What's been going on with you, kiddo? I'm worried. This isn't like you." Dad wants to know.

"I don't know," I lie, shaking my head, "It's stupid."

"Obviously it isn't, if it's got you so worked up. You've never acted out the way you have in the past few months. If there's something going on, I want you to know that you can talk to me. I don't want you feeling like you have to hide things from me." He says.

I inhale deeply through my nose, "I messed up... Really bad."

"Oh god," Dad says quietly.

"What? What's wrong?" I ask, my eyes widening.

"You're not pregnant, are you?" He asks with terror in his eyes.

I do everything in my power to stifle my laughter, "No, Dad. I'm not pregnant."

"Thank goodness. I would've ripped Jay's head off. Or any other kid for that matter," My dad says, cracking his knuckles.

"Dad, it's not about a boy... I'm gay," I tell him, noticing how quickly my mouth has gone dry.

It's silent for a moment. Neither of us say a word or even look at each other. I'm worried that I've said the wrong thing, that I've done it at the wrong time. My heart rate starts to climb until to my relief, he bursts out laughing.

"What's so funny?" I ask, my brows drawing closer together in confusion.

"I just," He catches his breath, "I just can't say I'm surprised. I can't even act surprised, really."

"What? What do you mean?" I frown.

"Tara, I've known that you were gay since you were a toddler. I was waiting on you to come out. I didn't think it'd take this long, to be completely honest. I think I was more confused than you were when you started dating Jay. I don't know why you stayed with him as long as you did. I've always known." He chuckles as he explains in a very matter-of-factly tone.

"W-What?! All this time, you've known? Then how come you've always asked about boys?!" I demand, sitting up.

"I guess I was just trying to give you a nudge to tell me. But, boy, you sure have an iron will. I think you get that from your mom's side." Dad teases, causing me to fold my arms and glare at him, "Look, in my defense, you made it pretty clear to us. You used to wear my neckties when you and your friends would play house. You would always be the dad."