happy endings are for fairy tales // kiani au

THIRTY-THREE: WILL

19 august 2017

"gosh, your house is in a bloody mess," my mum chides, picking up my roommate's half-used notebook abandoned on the couch of our shared lounge. i manage a small smile.

"it ain't my fault; i don't own this place," i shrug, taking the book from her hands and placing it back, "come on, my roommates are gonna come back soon."

i gesture for her to head towards my room. she looks around at the walls, at the bare hallways, as if she has not visited before. the first time she came here was when i moved in. distraught after bianca's death, i spent most of the time staring blankly at a lamp, a bed, a painting on the wall. while she had flown from england to aid me in packing my belongings and transporting it all here. i don't remember much from that time. and i prefer not thinking about it.

when we reach my room, i collapse onto my bed and my mum takes the seat at my desk, looking around. the wrinkles at the corner of her mouth has deepened since i last saw her. even the many creams and moisturisers on her bedside table could not heal her blemishes of worry for me. i cough and tear my eyes away to the floor.

"so how's school, love?" she says while subtly sorting the mess of books in my room into neat stacks.

"i don't know, normal, i guess," i shrug, "college can't get very exciting when you're doing a double degree."

she chuckles and i smile slightly back in courtesy. i realise i don't know how to start. my lifeline is standing right in front of me, but i am clueless as to what approach i should take. how do i start talking about my sexuality? it is almost as if liam is in front of me, her presence almost a reflection of his that day. but i can't seem to get the words out.

as i snap back into reality, i notice her lips moving, talking about what i have missed back at home in england. something about my younger sister getting her driving license, about my other sister's new boyfriend. but all i can hear are things she used to say.

"be careful around your aunt. and don't get influenced," my mother gripped hard onto my hand as we walked to a nearby shopping centre. i waved to my aunt as she grew further away on the sidewalk.

"what? why?" i asked with the innocence of a nine-year-old.

"you heard about her wife, didn't you?"

i blink. i have already planned this out, so why am i hesitating now? the only reason i had asked my mother to visit me in washington was so i could come out to her. so she could reject me. so she could go back to my conservative family and spread the news like the plague. i take a quick glance at the pills at my bedside table. when my plan goes accordingly, my family won't have to be sad.

"you're having trouble sleeping?" she points at the pill bottle with her chin, arm full of my notebooks. i curse myself silently that i had not hidden my action well enough.

"you could say that," i smile sadly. getting up, i offer to take some of the hefty books and arrange them on my desk.

she puts one book down. i do the same. wordlessly, we take turns to stack them, forming new piles when one becomes too high. i decide the best opportunity i am going to get is now.

"can i tell you something?" i say, without taking my eyes away from my desk.

"go ahead," she prompts.

there is a pause. i breathe out slowly. remember what i had rehearsed in front of a mirror. i test the words on my mouth. they feel different when there is someone to hear it. my breath shakes when i exhale again. i set a book down in place. and another. and another.

"i think i am gay."

i gingerly place the last book on top. my mother does not follow suit.

"oh," she says. i see her in the corner of my eye as she turns to face me. biochemistry textbook, i read the title of the last book over and over and over again nervously. dizziness had struck me and rendered me dazed once the last word fell off of my lips. i wait patiently for her to shout at me, my fingers curled tightly around the corner of my desk.

"thanks... thanks for telling me," she places the rest of the books down. i frown. that's it? i think. perplexed by her reaction, i do not even notice when she sits on my bed and pats the space next to her, "tell me about it. how'd you know?"

hesitantly, i sit down. she places an arm on my shoulder. suddenly, i'm safe.

"i... i met someone," i start, but have no idea how to continue. i hadn't planned for this to happen. she was supposed to be angry, be furious and yell at me. yet, for once, i am more comfortable with things not going to plan. the words form themselves, "and he's an asshole, but he's so attractive, and open-minded, and sweet, and confident, and..."

i stop myself when i realise i am smiling at the mere thought of jordan. what is the point of swooning over him now, when he is totally disgusted by the mere thought of me? my grin fades.

"and he hurt me so, so bad, but i can't get him out of my head," i mutter. my eyes flutter from the floor to my cork board instinctively, where i know the drawing of the hippo is. her vision trails mine.

"did he draw that?" she asks in awe. i nod with a hint of a smile. maybe a small part of me is proud to show it off, "it's beautiful! he's an artist?"

"he wants to be a tattoo artist," i say. she walks up to the drawing and examines it with gentle fingers.

"so are you two dating?" she clicks her tongue teasingly, tracing the pencil marks.

"no, it's complicated," i say. it is not a lie. while she is entranced by the drawing, i ask, "you don't find it... strange?"

she hesitates, the paper fluttering above her delicate fingers from air pumped out of the ac. slowly, she turns her head to me, "i don't know. you're still my son; nothing about that has changed."

my teeth sinks into my lower lip. i cannot tell if it is out of joy, or disappointment that my scheme had gone awry.

-

"you're staying for a bit, right?" i linger around the door as my mother puts on her shoes. she nods in response.

"visiting some friends here, but i'm leaving late in the night on monday," she says, taking her purse from my hands and giving me a pat on the back, "love you, remember to call if anything happens, ok?"

"right, see you," i grin, closing the door behind her after a small wave.

overwhelmed with her good reaction, i walk back to my room with questions and thoughts whirling all around. now, my plan is totally soiled. now, i actually have something to live for: my family. if only i lost them today, i would have been able to leave in peace. now, i can't.

i never thought i could be upset over something positive, yet ecstatic that it happened.

my vision turns to the pill bottle next to my bedside table. i pick it up. is it of any use now? i squint at the orange-tinted plastic, searching for the tiny pills of destruction. they are gone, but not quite. there is a faint trace of a pencil mark.

i look at my cork board. the drawing is gone. folded neatly in the pill bottle, the hippopotamus covers the inner surface of the entire bottle. i turn the bottle around. from every angle, i only see its snout, then body, then tail. only paper and pencil, no pills.

how did she know i didn't really have sleep problems?

i glance up at my desk chair. i can almost hear my mother say it: there is so much more to live for. she knew jordan had something to do with my suicidal thoughts.

suddenly, i get it. i ran away from england when my problems built up. i ran away from jordan after bianca was killed. i ran away from anyone who cared with my walls built up. now, i was running away from everyone.

and it struck me then: if i continue to run from hardships, like i had planned to, running away would be the last thing i do, too.