Glitch's Short Stories

A Night in D.C. (Valentine's Special)

I couldn't help but stare at my mother's picture, hung on the wall. It was one of the only remembrances of her in this house. I couldn't help but think. . . what would've happened if I was what she expected.

Maybe she wouldn't have been shot.

Last week, I heard from my relatives in social media that there was a shooting right here in D.C. and that it killed a couple of people. While I wanted to be sorry to those of the other victims who were injured and to the families that were affected. My relatives told me that my mother died even before she got into the hospital. I didn't want to believe them. . . I know my mother wouldn't give up on me like this.

Before this, she wanted me to change. She wanted me to recognize my gender as it was since my birth, which is a male. I always refused, telling her that there was nothing wrong with being gay. I only wanted her to accept that it's just a part of me that has been coexisting with me since childhood.

However, when she suddenly died and left me alone with my sister. . . I wasn't feeling better. I needed space. I never answered my phone call, never replied back to my texts, and never even talked to my friends nor touched my emails.

Mother always wanted me to change. . . If only I had realized how much faith she had entrusted to me before she got shot. She wanted me to change for the better, though I don't know what exactly did she mean by the word "better".

I know that there's nothing wrong with homosexuality. But the fact that she never gave up on me despite who I am bugs me. . .

I wish I would've realized this sooner.

Part of me wants to make it back to her for accepting me as a person, despite who I was. The back of my head yearns for change. It's not just any change.

It was a change that I knew my mother held during her last breath. To become a better person. To straighten my life out together.

To be straight, like she always wanted.

I looked around the bedroom, the only room I have familiarized with since her death. My bed was wet with tears, my alarm clock was shattered on the floor, left uncleaned. My phone was on the end table, battery sucked dry. The curtains were closed, isolating me from the sight of the US Capitol Hill. I would only leave the room for food. . . but even then, I don't feel hungry.

"Leo! Open the door, please!"

A voice echoed from outside. Though, I couldn't recognize whom did that voice belong to.

"Leo, I'm going to wait all night for this door to be opened. Just. . . open the door."

I suppose I don't really have a choice but to open the door. . .

Like a robot that was awakened, I rose from the bed that I stayed on for hours. Like a robot, I moved out of the bedroom door, trying to bury my emotions.

I opened the door, and a man with a gray hoodie and pants appeared on the doorway. Although I never saw him in a while, I know that those eyebags under his eyelids didn't exist until now.

"Hi, Leo. . . I just wanted to drop by to check on you."

"Oh. . . You can tell the others that I'm fine," I replied. I don't want anyone to visit me. . . especially in my current stage.

"I have," he answered. "But I know you aren't okay. We're not oblivious to everything, Leo."

I guess I didn't have an excuse for that. . .

"So, what made you drop by?"

"Like I said, to check on you. I just got back from work, and we're all worried, especially that you have been off the radar ever since your mother died. My sincerest condolences, by the way. . ."