It's different now

Chapter 1: today

Today was the day.
I walked pass the cross on the wall, the holy bible on the table, and the prayer framed on the door. And into my kitchen.
I lived in a lavish home, a large one where every bedroom had a walk in closet, and an ensuite bathroom. The guest bedroom had a guest bedroom. Everything was expensive and well polished, just like the people who lived in it.
In the large kitchen was my mother, a classy woman who wore expensive clothes and was married to the pastor.
My father, the pastor of the city's church for Christians, sat across from her, his button up dress shirt and dress pants with his black shoes placed him at the front of his beautiful family, he was living the American Dream, and we were all part of it.
My little brother Marcus sat next to Lucy, my sister, he had a perfect haircut and the newest Nikes, at only seven he practically ran the school yard.
Lucy was a beautiful, eleven year old girl, the perfect daughter. The cherry on top to this perfect family, her blush pink sun dress played up her curly blonde locks nicely, her blue eyes proudly loomed over a lovely bracelet draped over her wrist.
And here I was.
"Darling!" My mother clapped her hands together and tilted her head to the side. "You look lovely."
"Thanks mom."
"Come join us, Tiffany." My father beckoned to the seat next to Marcus.
"Hey buddy." I said to him, he was playing on his new iPod, some game I didn't recognize. "What's up?"
"Just chilling." He responds, not looking up at me.
"So, Tiffany, how was school?" My dad asks, looking up from his spaghetti.
"Fine, Mr. Bryant only gave us twenty pounds of homework and the cafeteria food wasn't as terrible as usual."
From two seats away, Lucy giggles.
"Hey Luce, did Mrs. Hendrickson yell at you and Helena today?"
"Yeah, she said we were "not acting lady like" because Helena and I kept purposely snorting every time someone said something remotely funny." She rolled her eyes.
"Well." My mother wipes her mouth. "She's not wrong."
"Mom."
"Oh hush." My mother teases, laughter is exchanged throughout the table and we resume our meals in silence.
In ten minutes it's only my mom, my dad, and I at the table. And I knew it had to be the time.
"Hey mom..."
"Yes dear?"
"I have to tell you and dad something and you have to promise not to freak out..."
"Well, tiff, it depends." My father adds.
"Is it against religion?" My mother asks.
"No, I don't think so..."
"Then what is it?"
"I- I think I'm bisexual."
Silence.
Then, a gasp.
A hard fist slams the table.
"You're what?"
"I'm bisexual."
"See Martha, I knew we should have pulled her out of that trash Shute gosh darn school the day she asked us what it meant to be an atheist."
"No, dad please."
"Oh honey, it's just a phase, you're confused, my sister was like this too and now she's married to a man with four kids and happy as the good lord wants." My mother giggles. This isn't funny.
"How long have you felt this way?" My father asks, placing one hand on my mother's shoulder.
Looking at my feet, I shrug. "As long as I can recall."
My father nods a slow, disappointed nod while my mother looks around frantically, as if searching for words.
"Martha, dear, I give you and Tiffany permission to skip church tomorrow, Tiffany will have an appointment."
My mother looks uncertain for a second, but when my father nods for the second time I can tell she understands.
What are they talking about?
"Yes, of course, Tiffany, its time for you to go to bed."
"It's only eight o'clock." I protest.
"Tiffany, now."
Quietly, I stand, pushing in the black leather chair to its original position.
For the second time I walk past the bible, the cross, and the prayer, each one with a new meaning, each one so foreign now.
I turn up the stairwell and spot something unexpected.
Lucy and Marcus are sitting cross-legged on the landing of the staircase, Marcus looks confused and Lucy looks just as disappointed as mom.
They say nothing as I walk past them, I can feel their eyes that had been moistened with tears follow me all the way to my room.
Everything feels different, the wallpaper, the bedding, the windowsills, the way I saw myself in the mirror, like a massive chunk of my life was lifted and placed upside down and backwards.
Pacing around my room, I run my finger across the shelves, frames, handles and sills, when I reach my vanity.
After tracing through a small layer of dust I find what feels like halfway through the table, and look up.
Somewhere in the process of this, subconsciously, I had begun to cry.
I didn't wipe the tears away, instead I let them fall where they may, with they sound of them hitting the counter top and hardwood floor like rain, I let my body heave down to the floor, and somewhere in this time on the cold, hard floor, I had fallen asleep, unaware of what tragedies and humiliation lie ahead.