The Homosexual Angel (lesbian story)

The Slope is Steep

<Megan's P.O.V.>

<Saturday morning>

         Saturday morning, and Hell yes...! I'm out to see my girlfri- *ahem* date, and this is the first weekend we have to ourselves as a 'soon to be' couple. Although I need to wear baggy work-out clothes to continue fooling my father about the soccer practices, I try to find the better-looking clothes, to at least look a little appealing to Aceline. I don't want her to walk around with a drab like me.

         And, on another thought, I had been thinking about my mother- nonstop. It's almost like she and Mom were both taking up space in my head the whole week. Of course, they don't need to compete for my attention; they are both completely different people. But what made me feel sick was that I could see Aceline every day, weekday or not, and she was in my mind a lot just as much as my mother whom I could only visit a few minutes during weekends. I know this is a farfetched thought, but I feel as if I spend more time with my date more than I should with my 'worsening' mother.

         But, I have an idea- what if I just... introduce Mom to Aceline. I mean, I know I did, but this time, as my... legit date. I think she deserves to know about what has been happening in my life without her supervision. After all, Aceline knows about her. Mom should know about Aceline.

         ..And so I changed up, went downstairs, and checked the clock over the living room- well, it's a little earlier than my usual waking time. I pranced to the refrigerator and tried to take out the bread and peanut butter spread, when I found my father sleeping on the couch. Finally; not on the floor as usual. I know I would care less, but I checked if his chest was rising, and it was. A part of me was happy that he was still alive, but that was because I didn't want to be under the government's custody, or have an aunt I never heard about come to my aid.

         I causally spread the peanut butter over the frozen loaf of bread and sat on the chair.

         "Well, you are my father, and I doubt at this state, you would care much. So, remember the really cute blonde girl who'd come by every weekend? Yeah, we're dating." No response, just a monstrous snore. I just shrugged.

         When I was done, I had the decency of making a sandwich for my father, which I placed in a Ziplock and labeled it with a pen as 'Your Breakfast. Off to Practice.' I never made breakfast for my father since the whole thing, but I though, hey, why not? The expiry date of the bread is coming soon, and someone's going to help me finish it.

         I sorted out my mess and a knock on the door echoed in the silence of the house. My dad only reacted by rolling over, nearly falling off the couch, and I gleefully walked to the door, toothbrush still in my mouth.

         As I had expected, it was her. I just calmly brushed in front of her.

         "Hi, Megan," she greeted "I see you're getting ready." I nodded, walked over to the sink, rinsed, and ran back to the door. I wouldn't want to invite her inside with an unconscious father on the couch, snoring.

         "Now I am ready." I said, closing the door behind me. Hand in hand, we walked out of my front door and out to the street.