I'm almost there.
I feel a pang of shame for having done this. Nervous, I take a misstep and almost tripped. Almost.
I'm running, running, running, and I'm almost at my house.
"Hold back the tears, boy. Sink or swim," my father always says. I'd like to be more specific: Norman, my first father. He never fails to channel his inner Confucius whenever he feels like it. He also always never fails to give me this psychologist look whenever he feels like I am not me again. Kiev, my second father, is always giving me this laissez-faire treatment with a catch. "Just do what you want, do everything you feel like doing, but never date the "others"," he always does air quotations whenever he says others.
By first and second, I mean they are together. It's not that my mother divorced my first father and found my second father at the other table in the coffee shop nearby.
But I wish the world works that way.
I've been secretly dating Trina, until minutes ago when we were caught by authorities. Now, they're trying to chase me and make me explain our hands holding together.
I'm running, running, running, and I'm almost at my house.
I think I'm alabaster white because of exhaustion, I think I sound as if I'm a bulldozer, trying to inhale all the oxygen in the world.
If my fathers see me, I think I have a lot of explaining to do. And if I thoroughly explained my side of the story, they will understand. If I introduced them to the idea of me having a girlfriend, they will understand. And if I tell them that I don't like boys, they will understand.
But I wish the world works that way.
