This book follows the lives of 8 very different queer kids, providing various perspectives on coming out, sexuality, gender orientation, homophobia, and home lives. Capturing situations that some may have been in themselves as they journey through l...
His grandma died when he was four. He could barely remember it, but it marked Easter as a day of grief and sadness for his family. It was on Easter that she died, all he could remember was the tears streaming down his mother's face as she held him tightly, almost as if he was the last thing holding her on to reality. Her son, daughter, child. Her messed up, genderfluid gay-as-hell daughter, child, son. She didn't know that was coming, and when she did find out he identified that way, she wouldn't begin to understand anything except the lies she told herself. It's my fault, she would say, it's my fault he's this way.
It wasn't true. It wasn't her fault, it wasn't his fault. It wasn't anyone's fault- he was born this way.
But, for some reason, his mother couldn't grasp that factoid that was so very detrimental to the fabric of Skyler's and his family's lives. It wasn't anyone's fault.
Perhaps things like this is what made Skyler so bitter over time, but perhaps, like his gender orientation and sexuality, he had been born a jerk. He very well could've decided subconsciously to push away those he loved in favor of loneliness and solitude. Or, he very well could've been made that way, but that would mean it was someone's fault and he was determined not to be anyone's fault. He was his mother's jerky son, child, daughter.
His thoughts had clouded his thoughts and occupied his waking dreams on the way to his Grandmother's grave that was all the way in Washington. A three hour drive from home, he hated it. His mother tried, in vain, to start conversation. His father tried, in vain, to attempt to find out what was 'wrong' with his daughter. His daughter. His father, as per usual, would get upset and angry when he refused to speak with his mother. Her little girl was 'gone' and replaced by some
freak.
He was a freak, a failure of a daughter
a son
a child.
That, he wished to tell his dad, is why he was a jerk. He was afraid of being branded a failure, a freak, a child, a son, a daughter, worthy of exile from his family that was anything but supportive of gay rights, of transgender rights. They didn't know that people outside of the binary existed. They didn't know, they would never understand, at least, that's what he thought. He thought that for a long time and it would eat him up from the inside out.
"Sky, we're here," Skyler said nothing in response to his father's worried look. There was nothing to worry about. And yet, there was everything to worry about. Skyler was the epitome of confusing. To everyone and himself. His pronoun bracelets hung around his wrist making a soft noise that sometimes pulled him out of his misery and self-loathing that plagued him on a regular basis. His friends had made them for him. He'd always put the one he was identifying with in the front and they would all try their best to adhere to them. Sometimes they'd slip up- they were human, that would happen. He respected that.
Sometimes he wished he was less of an ass to them for he loved them so.
Skyler got out of the car, his jeans sagged slightly due to the fact that he was not well-versed in buying men's clothing. His eyes watered at the sight of his family dressed in black all holding single white roses in a circle around where his grandmother, the foundation and adhesive to their family, lay. There was an array of people he'd not seen for a long time. A tear had grazed his cheek- he refused to cry.
His body betrayed him, he had fallen to his knees and it rained.
It rained and rained and he sobbed and sobbed. His family collected around him, he felt his mother's reassuring grip on his shoulder and his father rubbed Skyler's back.
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The rose fell to the muddy ground and stained the beautifully white petals, rain dripping from the umbrella he had noticed being placed above him. Roses had begun to fall where his had in a solid gesture of love from his family. He sobbed more. And more, he couldn't stop. He didn't stop. He wouldn't stop.
His grandmother's grave read something in Korean that he couldn't make out because the rain had been in his eyes. Before he could figure it out, he was lifted by his shoulders and into the arms of his father who had begun carrying him to the car. His tears had been masked by the rain but muffled sounds of sobbing had given him away. He had smiled, he had waved, he had a petal on his jacket.
That made him cry even more.
It was another three silent hours until he was home. His father carried him to his bed and, instead of leaving Skyler there to wallow in his own sadness, he moved his son, his child, his daughter's legs out of the way and sat next to him.
"What's wrong, Skyler?" His father had asked. "Nothing, dad," Skyler had answered. His dad called him out on his BS. BS is right, Skyler said, in so many words.
Suddenly he had lost control of his mouth which betrayed his mind. His secrets, his gender, his sexuality, his asshol-ery. All of it. Why he'd been acting the way he had been. Everything. How he was afraid of disappointing his dad by ruining his idea of a perfect child. He explained it all and it hurt so good to tell someone that close to him everything he'd been hiding for most of his life.
After the mushy session had been finished for a little while and his father had left him, he picked up his phone and typed in the most sincere message he'd ever written.
"I love you," he sent to the group chat with all his friends. "I love you all." His sadness had been replaced with happiness for his father and his acceptance. His friends and their acceptance. He loved them, sincerely and genuinely. He loved them all.
