Kill or Tell

.v.

"What have I told you about.... about associating with people like that?" Mom whips around the wet, soapy dish towel that she's using to clean a pot, spraying me and the kitchen with water.

Wiping the liquid off of my face, I refrain from answering, casting my gaze downward. The Dresser siblings have left, presumably to go home, but I'm half sure Dicky Dear is beating his brother to a pulp somewhere instead.

"Are you listening to me?"

"Yeah." There's this weird, dark spot on the tile that I don't remember being there before. Wonder what it is.

"Disturbed child, she is," Mom continues, furiously scrubbing the pot as if it isn't perfectly clean. "Wasn't her parents. Mr. and Mrs. Dresser are great people, and Chaddick is a college athlete - OSU, the good boy."

Maybe that spot is a metaphor - a representation of my mom's shriveled, blackened, bigoted soul.

"And although Winifred used to be such a lovely girl-" Mom shakes her head in disgust, "-somewhere, something went wrong up in her head."

"His head, Mom," I correct, still keeping my gaze glued to the floor. "Freddie's a boy." And my boyfriend, I think to myself.

Mom gives me a disgruntled look. "Abeni Llewellyn Carthwyle! Don't tell me - are you supporting this... this phase?"

"Freddie's my friend."

"Winifred used to be a nice girl - I'll give her that - but she's just being silly now."

"Being not cisgender isn't a sin, Mom." Is that spot getting darker? "Being bigoted - now that's a sin."

My mother bristles, slamming the pot into the sink with a clang. "GET UP TO YOUR ROOM AND DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT COMING OUT FOR THE REST OF THE NIGHT!"

I finally look up, walking slowly toward the hallway that leads to my room. "I'd love to, Mom, thanks for asking nicely."

*******
The next morning, I sneak out before Mom wakes up, merely pulling one some clothes and hightailing it to Cassidy's.

Strolling up to the ancient house, I don't hesitate to knock on Cassidy's door, well aware that her dad won't be able to be woken until well after noon. As I wait for her to come to the door, I glance around, taking in the scenery: a jungle for a front yard; a towering, twisted sycamore; a barely visible post that once chained Buford, Cassidy's Dad's old dog. Buford had been an odd mutt - missing a few IQ points, he was - but he'd been so fun and energetic.

Strange, how he died. Some old lady had found him, burnt to a crisp in her front yard.

The door creaks open before me, dragging my thoughts back to the present.

"Hey, Beni," Cassidy greets. It's hard not to stare at her - what, with her crop shorts and sheer v-neck, I can see her purple bra, and it's very distracting.

"Hey, Cassidy." I avert my gaze, forcing myself to look at her nose on which a pair of smudged, black, plastic framed glasses perch delicately - she doesn't wear her contacts on the weekends.

"Wanna go to the park? Dad's not as drunk as normal. He'll wake up earlier." She gazes st me with those brilliant blue eyes as if to say, "We're going. I'm just being nice by asking you."

"Yeah." I gesture for her to walk ahead, slouching a bit in order to minimize the height difference.

"Great!" She smiles at me as she walks past as if to say, "There's a good girl!"

I can't help but smile and follow her, lightly closing her front door for her.