Southern Gothic // Joshler

6. Confession

Gore / Internalized homophobia.

Tyler didn't go to school the next day.

He was too anxious to face the school after the events that had transpired at both church and at Josh's house the previous day. Especially at Josh's house. His head was still spinning from the conversations they had.

Forcing himself out of bed, Tyler knew that it was roughly around noon, so his brothers would be at school and his sister would be down for a nap. He headed out of his room into the hallway and down the stairs, to find his mother sweeping the living room.

"Good afternoon, Ty," She hummed, not looking up from where she was sweeping. "Are you feeling better?"

"Not really," Tyler admitted, sitting on the couch as he watched her. He had always admired how graceful his mother was when it came to housework. She had never given him permission to help her, since he wasn't a woman, but he had always wanted to help out. His eyes drifted up to look at the new shotgun hanging over the fireplace. The old one had been a hunting rifle from the 1930's, passed down through generations of Joseph's and never once had needed to be used, as far as Tyler knew.

"It's a double barrel," His mother remarked from where she was sweeping. "They told me shotguns are more reliable in close combat compared to rifles, which are only reliable in distance shooting."

"Huh," Tyler grunted, still staring. He wasn't a fan of the way the light reflected off the barrel of the gun, or how his eye was drawn suspiciously towards the trigger. He wondered to himself if it was loaded.

"Is that okay?" She asked quietly, picking up the dustpan off the ground and heading over into the kitchen to dump it's contents into the trashcan. She called out to him, "You're the head of the household, Tyler, you have to give confirmation."

A chill ran up Tyler's spine and he flinched at those words. "It's fine, I guess. I don't know. This is all still so weird."

His mother sighed and sat down onto the couch with him, looking up at the gun as well. "I know it is. You're going to have to graduate and immediately get a job-"

"Am I supposed to be your husband now or something?" Tyler asked, regretting the words the instant it came out of his mouth. His mother laughed aloud.

"No, no! What makes you think that?"

"Aren't there s'posed to be a head of the house and his wife?"

She nodded slowly, finally looking at her son and trying to hold back laughter once more. "Tyler, you're not marrying your mother. You will be having to marry a wife as soon as you turn eighteen, though."

Tyler made a disgusted face, thinking hard about who he'd prefer to marry. "I can't marry Jenna, Mom."

"Why not?" She asked softly. He was grateful for the fact she never judged him on the things he would say. Had he said that to his father, he would've gotten beaten for even daring to speak against his pick.

"She's only twelve, she's too young-"

"She'll be a woman when the time comes, Tyler." She assured him. "Girls are no longer girls on the day they first bleed. She'll be even more of a woman on your marriage night."

"What does that mean?" Tyler asked hesitantly. Just talking about it made him feel ill, because him having to marry Jenna was quickly becoming a true possibility.

"Women bleed, Tyler." His mother responded, her voice calm. "When girls are between the ages of eleven to roughly fourteen, they bleed."

"Why?" He picked at his fingernails as he spoke, feeling fully uncomfortable.