A Kiss on the Neck

Journey to Neophilia

The incandescent rays from the sun peeked through my blinds and woke me peacefully. There are many things I am, and am not, and a morning person I am, well that depends on how i’m woken up. I stretched still tired and rubbed my eyes. Whether I like it or not, I am a huge stickler on how my skin is so that is usually the first thing I take care of in the morning. Most people have the misconception that all gay men take as long as a woman to get ready and they couldn’t be more wrong. I wash my face, brush my hair and teeth, and get dressed. Pretty simple. My mother was very much not like me in the morning, it took her almost a whole pot of coffee to even stand up straight. Of course that is a hyperbole but I’m sure you understand. I kissed her on the cheek and she mumbled something on the lines of “Good morning.” I made us both some toast and sat down at the table.

“I heard from Jenny that there is some freaky ex sex offender walking around Be careful.”

I rolled my eyes. Jenny was my friend Lamora’s mother. Lamora is one of my few friends on this earth but I never get to see her since her parents shipped her off to some boarding school in London. It may sound pretty schnazy, but in the few letters she has sent me they all say it’s a closed off nazi dictated, all girl, seventh level of hell.

“Do you know how Momo is doing?”

My mother shrugged her shoulders.

“She got kicked out.”

I beamed with excitement.

“Does that mean she’s coming home?”

My mother hesitated and the suspense was almost killing me.

“Yeah but honey....”   

I jumped out of my seat and did my dorky happy dance.

“Honey Momo isn’t...”

I stopped.

“Isn’t what?”

My mother silently sipped her coffee.

“Isn’t what?”

I repeated with less patience. I watched her with concerned and anxious eyes. I may have boring brown eyes but one thing about them is they read emotion better than blue eyes. Whether I’m sad, angry, or scared they always are there to show someone how I really feel. At some points it’s a positive thing but when I want to put up a facade it isn’t.

“Momo isn’t the same honey.”

What an unbearably broad explanation.

“What do you mean?”

She nervously looked down at her coffee.

“Momo got kicked out for self destruction and drugs.”

I took in a sharp breath that nearly scratched my lungs, like glass.

“I knew they shouldn’t have sent her there!”  

I snapped. I know I shouldn’t be acting this way towards my mother. It isn’t her fault.

“When is she coming back?”

“Not sure.”

My mother responded almost instantly.

“Tch.”

I clenched my jaw shut. If I said anything more I would say something I regret. That’s something I’m known to do. I’m generally a good kid. I get good grades and don’t do anything illegal (except look at some things on the internet) but when I get angry it’s a different story. I lose my cool completely when I’m angry. I swear, say things I shouldn’t, and sometimes punch things. That is the thing that gets me in the most trouble at home.