Today I moved. I should probably be more specific, my name is Michael and today my family kicked me out of the house. It's your typical coming out story except there was no real backlash. I have told you before that when Amy gets angry she gets angry. An almost physical change happens and she is on us like hell hounds come to collect an escaping soul. It is the most terrifying thing. Or so I thought. She said nothing. Didn't even stop eating like the others around the table. Kept talking to Manuel - who has always been her favorite - about some stupid factory job or something. The twelve other people around the table seemed to hold their breath as if waiting for the fire to seep out of her skin. I do not know what made me do this here. Why I would have been so stupid. Smarter to do it one-on-one, that was what I had planned. If I had ever come out. She probably realized that everyone was waiting for her to say something so she said, and I quote, "Okay, can I get back to my food and conversation please." We all laughed, I cried a bit, I am not ashamed to say and Ellie even patted my knee with a small smile as she got back to creating the weirdest taco she had accomplished yet. It was good to be loved. Only Manuel looked pained, as if he was slightly constipated. Whatever, if Amy didn't have a problem with it, then I was fine. Even if he was my protector and best friend in that house, I guess I couldn't just leave it. I would talk to him after dinner. The rest of the night, we drank and ate with a comfortable amount of noise around us. Nothing had changed.
Going to sleep was a bit difficult though, I guess the nerves of coming out had really gotten to me, I couldn't get to sleep long enough before I was awake again. It was one of these times that I woke up, probably around 3am, that I heard whisper arguing. When you are a foster kid who had been in ten homes before they were twelve, you learn very quickly what whisper arguing sounds like. And you know when it's about you. I figured it was no real big deal because Amy had adopted me a while back. She only had three children of her own and she and her late husband had always wanted a large family so when I showed up on their doorstep with a carrier bag that had all my things in a year ago, she just knew. I was safe now. Right.
The next morning, I got down to breakfast early. The only ones awake were Manuel and his mother. Our mother. She had made breakfast which was always a treat and I really looked forward to it. The look she gave me was chilling. So I nervously said good morning and sat at the table. I don't know why I am dragging this out. It won't change what happened next, I guess I just want to remember when I last saw them, when we were happy. She tossed me a carrier bag, brand new at least and I caught it. Looked inside and saw my ratty old hoodie, my favorite book, my mom's makeup, my little sisters stuffed mouse, my brothers' headphones and glasses, and a pair of unfashionably ripped and faded jeans. I knew what was happening but it's funny I didn't... couldn't say anything. I followed her to the car and put my seat belt on. Funny at that point I probably wished that I could die and I was still concerned with road safety. It was pretty cold out, so I put on the jeans and struggled to put the hoodie on. I kept my flip flops on and we sat in silence as she drove us somewhere. After about thirty minutes of driving, she finally stopped the car and I saw that we had driven all the way across town. I could catch a bus to a different city in five minutes.
The last thing she said to me, this woman who had promised that I would be safe with her, was that if I had infected any of her children she would find me. I should have just told her then and there that, before she had adopted me, her stupid favorite son had cum in his pants because I kissed him.
Stupid bitch.
