The Story of Why

Keda - Giving Up

~Keda~

My mom asked me about what happened to Drew and why he had a bruise on his face as soon as he left to go home. Of course. I lied to her and told her that he got into a fight, not wanting her to worry about him having a violent uncle. Then I realized how much she would worry about him being bullied. It just never ends.

On Sunday after church, I was in my room, sitting on my bed with my legs crossed and reading a book, trying to make all my thoughts fade away and let my mind wander into the characters' world. There was a soft knock on my bedroom door.

"Come in," I said, expecting it to be my mother, wanting to have a serious talk. I prepared myself for it, trying not to look so agitated, but when the door opened, I found that it wasn't my mother, but my little brother. "Olliver? What are you doing in here? Is something wrong?" I asked. He almost never comes into my room.

"Yeah, actually," he mumbled grimly. He closed the door behind him and stood there, motionless. He stared down at his feet.

"What's wrong?" I asked uncertainly. Olliver never, ever came to me for advice. Now that I think about it, we're not even that close. The only thing we seem to have in common is our blood. I looked up at him, unsure of what would happen next.

He slowly brought his gaze up and met my eyes. He walked towards me cautiously, as if he thought I was a dangerous animal. I moved over on my bed and patted the spot beside me. He sat down and looked back down at the ground again.

"If I tell you this, will you promise not to tell Mom?" he asked, his eyes pleading. I could tell because I could see their reflection on the T.V. in the corner of my room.

I was pretty anxious to know what he was about to tell me, so I promised that I wouldn't.

"I've been bullied at school," he said.

My heart sank. I had been bullied since I was in the 5th grade, and I can assure you, it had not been pleasant. I bit my lip. "How?" I asked.

He took a deep breath, and forced himself to look at me again. "They take my things, they hurt me sometimes, too. But they...they mostly call me names and things..." he looked away from me again.

I forgot everything else that was going on, I focused only on my brother. "What do they call you?" I asked.

"They call me...they call me gay, mostly...and-and fag," he said, biting his lip, which had begun to tremble.

I looked down at him. I hadn't seen him this sad since we were kids. Now that I think about it, we hardly even talked since way back then. "Are you?" I asked.

He looked up at me, startled. His eyes were wide, and they were starting to look wet. He gulped. "Am I - Am I what?" he asked, probably already knowing the answer.

"Are you gay?" I asked him, making eye contact with him the entire time.

His bottom lip trembled violently, and a tear slid down his cheek. He nodded. "Is something wrong with me?" he choked, more and more tears falling down his face now.

I wrapped my arms around him in a tight hug. My eyes welled with tears and I laughed lightly, humourlessly. "There is nothing wrong with you," I told him, my voice breaking.

We sat there for what seemed like a long time, just hugging each other. He pulled away and grabbed a tissue from my nightstand, and blew his nose. The tears subsided, but his eyes were swollen.

"Just-just don't tell Mom, okay?" he begged, staring up at me.

"I won't," I promised.

After a while, he went back to his room and left me alone in mine. I was really happy that he came to me for help, but of course, I couldn't prevent the tide of negative thoughts from flowing in, taking over completely. About Drew, about how my mom would react if she knew, but mostly, it revolved around me and my brothers' relationship. It was kind of sad how sadness itself, actually brought us closer together, than happiness ever could.