Hope and Faith

SEVENTY: HOPE

Friday after school, Hope walked home alone, listening to the sound of people talking and laughing around her. Everyone seemed to be with somebody, whether it be a spouse, a parent, a child, or a friend. And then there was Hope, walking alone.

She was feeling refreshed after her conversation with Matthew the day prior. Of course she felt bad, and there was a part of her that would always love him, but she did what needed to be done. The harsh reality was that she and Matthew were no longer suitable together. And it was unfortunate that it took going through all of that to realize it, but at least Hope was coming out a better person. She had lived and she had learned. Now all she had to do was move on with her life and pray that she didn't see Faith around the school too often, because that would only break her heart more.

She wanted to talk to Faith. Wanted to reach out and communicate with her in some way. She debated calling her, leaving a note on her door, something – anything – to let her know that she was sorry and was always thinking about her. Perhaps if they were able to meet and talk things out, Faith would understand. Their differences didn't matter to Hope – none of that mattered. She didn't care if Faith was a foul-mouthed atheist who hated people and got an abortion. She didn't care about any of it anymore. Her heart was aching for Faith and all she wanted to do was hold her.

Hope walked into the house and placed her bag on the bench beside the front door. She made her way into the kitchen to make her after-school snack. But when she got there, she noticed that both of her parents were sitting at the dining room table, hands folded in front of them, staring at her.

"What's going on?" Hope asked, taking an apprehensive step forward.
"Come sit," her father beckoned.
She obeyed, walking into the room and pulling out one of the chairs to take a seat.
"What is it?" she asked, turning to look at both of her parents.
They were quiet for a moment. The tension in the room was thick. Thoughts were racing through Hope's mind: did somebody die? Are they separating? Am I in trouble?
"We talked with Matthew," Joana finally spoke, then remained silent, allowing her words to linger in the air, to settle in Hope's mind.
"Okay..." Hope said, her heartrate accelerating.
"We don't blame you," her father said, eyes sympathetic. "Do not think that this is your fault. It is beyond your control."
"What?"
"We're getting you the help that you need," he said.
"What are you talking about?"
"You're not well, Hope," her mother said in a gentle tone. But those words and that voice did not go together.
"What did he say to you!?" Hope cried.
"He said all that he needed to," Gabriel said. "You don't have to worry about that."
"Oh, I'm worried," Hope said, shaking. "What are you doing? What have you done?"
They both looked at each other, then returned their gaze to their daughter.
"We're only doing what's best for you," Joana said. "We're doing what's right."
Hope stared at her, petrified, not saying a word.
"It's only temporary," Gabriel said, attempting to reassure her. "We will guarantee that you get the help you need. And then you can come home again."
"Come home? What are you talking about? Where am I going?"
"To Caledon," her mother said. "There's a facility there. They can help people like you," she said the words like you as though they possessed some sort of venom. Poison on her tongue.
"Caledon? Why?"
"We've already arranged for your retrieval," Gabriel told her. "They'll be here shortly."
"They'll take you to the facility and there, you will undergo conversion treatment," Joana explained. "They will help rid you of those immoral thoughts that taint your mind."
Hope was in shock. She couldn't even cry because she couldn't process what was happening.
"You think I'm sick," she said slowly. "You think that my sexual identity is an illness."
They were both quiet for a moment. "Homosexuality is an illness, Hope," her father said. "As I said, it's not your fault. We do not blame you. We just want you to get the help you need so that you'll be better again."
"This is crazy!" Hope stood, fuming.
"Hope, please," her mother said.
"No, you can't do this. You can't make me go."
"Yes, actually, we can," Gabriel said.
Hope was breathing heavily. She didn't know what to do. She could run? She'd have to run. But where would she go?
Just then, the doorbell rang and she felt her veins go cold. She looked at the door, then looked at her parents. "Who is that?" she asked, fearing the answer.
Joana looked at the door, then to Gabriel. She took in a breath, then turned to Hope and said, "They're here."