A slow fall

Chapter 33 - Caleb

    I knew it was going to be bad, just not to this extent. I was sent upstairs as soon as we stepped foot inside the house. My parents need time to think and they would do that better without me there.

I'm not sure how long I sat in my room, swimming in darkness and drowning in my own thoughts. Thoughts about the ease in which Zuri brought up liking a boy, the mischievous glint in her eyes as if they shared a secret I wasn't yet privy too.

I thought about the laughter the Jordan's shared, the comforting hugs Zuri and Denny offered me and the jokes we threw around; somehow their house felt more like a home then I think mine ever would. I don't think the halls have heard laughter since my brothers left.

I thought about Lucas' hand, strong, firm, and yet so gentle as it held onto mine. How it contrasted so much to my father's need to show that his strength meant power through brute force.

Lucas was different. He'd always been different.

That's when my thoughts hit a block, smacking right into the brick wall I'd built up day by day to protect myself. The shield I hid behind during dinner, using it as an attempt to muffle the words shouted across the room, to pretend I couldn't hear my fathers harsh tone or the venom his words were dripping in.

None of it was surprising really. I was used to those words being aimed at me. Weapons my father wielded so well.

I deserved them. There was something wrong with me. I was unnatural, a disgrace; Unworthy.

Undeserving of sitting in the Church we frequented, beside the congregation as if I was like one of them: pure.

Lucas was different. He didn't deserve dads harsh words and hateful tone, but something twisted in my chest when his parents were so quick to jump to his defense.

Was it because I too thought the words needed to be said? That that lifestyle needed to be questioned? Or because I wished someone had been so quick to defend me? That my parents were like his, offering unconditional love, not one with terms and conditions?

No. My parents loved me and this was just how they showed it. They were trying to protect me, guiding me onto the right path because I had strayed too far.

So, no, there was nothing to defend. My parents' words rang true, and Zuri's questions, no matter how innocent, were insinuating something unnatural. Suggesting a lifestyle I want no part in because I'm not like that and I can never be.

It's a sin and fire is not a welcome way to spend eternity.

When my mother called me down my feet weighed heavy. Every step was harder than the next, but one step became two and suddenly I stood in front of the living room door.

The living room TV was on, but no sound escaped it. Dad sat staring at the screen, the news flashing by in silent pictures. Mom watched as I stepped forward, a guarded smile on her face.

I crept into the room, scared too much noise would somehow wake a beast that could not be tamed. Scared that if my presence was fully acknowledged, so was my doom. The coach felt stiffer than normal, the air thicker and the house all too quiet.

I had no intention of breaking the silence, so we sat. Her gaze flicking between me and my father, him staring at the TV, and me looking and anything but. I felt angsty and everything within me was screaming run, but that was something I'd never managed to do.

"Well," mom finally spoke, her voice a gun shot in the uncomfortable peace we'd settled into, "that was an interesting dinner, wouldn't you say?"

I didn't know what to say. To admit that I felt sick from start to finish and never even tasted the pasta the Jordan's had spent time making. To reminisce on the jambalaya they used to make for us or the peach cobbler Denny prided himself on.