The One With The Almost Happy Ending

The One With The Cat Out The Bag

I.

*Cleo*

When I walked in the door, I felt sick. I could feel the wings of every single butterfly in my stomach. Home doesn't feel familiar anymore. Most of the time I would feel like I had never left, but today was different. I felt the way someone who escaped from prison would feel if they were free for a year before the police finally came to lock them back up. Pretty shitty.  It was time to make my way back into the closet for the holiday season.

It was Christmas Eve, and yet I felt like I was standing in an oven. Winters in LA were a mystery every year. I missed my city, but I didn't miss having to cover up even on some of the hottest days of the year. This whole thing about modesty is crap. When you live in LA, you can wear what you want because the day could go any way weather-wise. My parents felt differently. They teased and called me the "flower power" child. Even though the 60s were probably a racist time, I didn't disagree with the act that I'd fit in great with the hippie crowd. No bras, smoking pot, fighting the good fight, open homos. Sounds like the best of times. Who wouldn't want that?

I was never really a smoker, but this past summer was filled with plenty of S&S sessions. Alec and I used to smoke & have sex almost every single day. It was nothing but bliss, with the occasional "I hate you, don't talk to me"s and the "When we're together, we're together. When we're not..." vibes. I hate him so much sometimes, but he's still the best friend I have.

Alec was my ex, if I could even really call him that. I knew him since we first started high school, and loved him ever since. He took my virginity with promises of love, and we had been fucking ever since. I never really liked boys in high school well, I never really liked boys, but I felt something different with Alec.

He wasn't stupid like the other boys. Stupid, of course, just not like the other boys. We had a class together and I had never given him a second glance. One day he sat next to me and made conversation, he was relatively nice and easy to talk to so I entertained him. The more we talked, I flirted and stared at him with sex-filled eyes just to up the ante. I liked toying with boys like that, they didn't expect girls to be so open and casual about sex, but I was. I didn't care for them, so my feelings never got hurt; it was all for shits and giggles. Boys are so easy. After about two weeks of foreplay, we finally messed around for the first time in the women's bathroom in the Administration Building. It gave me a rush I hadn't ever felt before and definitely wasn't expecting. He was special, and an amazing kisser. In my eyes, he was never just another boy to play with.

"Cleo! Come in here and help us with the tree. Quick," my brother yelled from the living room. 

Who brings home a tree the day before Christmas? I didn't realize I had stopped unpacking because I was so deep in thought about my relationship with Alec. I stood up, stretched, and yawned then walked as slowly as possible towards the living room, hoping they would get it done without needing my help after all. 

"CLEO!" I heard multiple voices yell my name angrily. 

I jogged in the room sarcastically and wiped fake sweat off my brow. They were unamused, and I could see why. Somehow, my youngest brother had gotten the trunk of the tree lodged in his foot. My face dropped and I felt my ears warming.

Of course, these things always happen to the family with no medical insurance, because the daughter with very basic Pre-Med training loves to come through and try to save the day.

 B-E-A-youtiful. 

"How did this even happen, Crane??" 

Surprisingly, he wasn't crying or screaming. Pretty tough, for a 9 year old... Maybe he's in shock. I should probably try to do something. I started to mildly panic, because my brain was turning to mush. 

"Why are you asking how the hell it happened? Just fix him!"

I couldn't even think straight. I looked into my little brother's eyes, he was staring blankly into space, I didn't want anything bad to happen to him.

"We need to call 911!" I stood up and started looking for some towels and hot water, at the very least. 

"What for? Don't you know what to do? Use your schooling!" I couldn't respond. 

"Cleo? Cleo! Answer me, right now. You should be able to clean this up, it isn't that bad, right?" my mom pleaded with me.

I was sure my face was painted with horror and they wanted to know why I couldn't perform. Surely, to them, it seemed to be a simple clean-and-stitch wound. Even if I was actually in med school, I probably wouldn't know what to do, but being kicked out definitely doesn't help. I could lie and say we haven't reached this point in our lessons yet. Maybe I could just wing it and, by some miracle, get it right. No, no I don't want to hur- 

"Cici, please hurry! He's bleeding." My older brother, Cash, was a man of few words and he never raised his voice, so I was alarmed to say the least. 

I felt like my heart was going to explode out of my chest and I just let out a loud scream. They wouldn't call the ambulance, they were continuously shooting ridiculous questions at me, and I had had enough of the secrets. 

"I AM NOT A DOCTOR! I'm barely surviving in school! I almost got kicked out after this last semester. We need to call and ambulance right now. Crane needs to get to the ER." Holy shit. Did I just say all that out loud? Yep. I'm going to die now.

Everyone was silent and right at that moment Crane slipped to the ground and fell unconscious. Cash and my father were trying to keep as much of the tree's weight off his foot as possible so they were unable to move. My mother was lying beside Crane and held his head while crying hysterically. I couldn't tell if they didn't hear what I said or it just didn't register, but it was much less important than the matter at hand. I ran into the bedroom to grab my phone to call an ambulance which, thankfully, arrived within minutes.

They allowed my mom and I to ride with Crane. The paramedics assured us that he would be completely fine once we arrived at the ER and were able to see a doctor. Apparently, this sort of things happens a lot around this time of year. Our main concern was his loss of consciousness, but they explained that he had most likely passed out from the pain, seeing as he hadn't lost too much blood. 

Crane lay in a bed alongside the wall, and since the ER was crowded and busy there was no other place to stand except across the hall. Cash stayed with Crane, and I was stuck in an uncomfortably small corner with my parents. I knew there had been enough time for them to recover from the thought that Crane was in critical danger and begin directing their anger towards the information I had shared earlier. They finally spoke after a few minutes of silence. 

"What were you doing all this time?"

"How could you be so stupid and unfocused?", along with a number of other demeaning questions I tuned out, were the main focus of this one-sided conversation. 

I tried to listen to the conversation and understand where they were coming from but I was too tired to be earnest at this point.

"What else are you hiding, Cleo?" 

I don't know why I was feeling so candid, but I licked my lips and said something I never believed I would be able to admit to them or myself, for that matter. 

"I'm gay, Mom. I know you believe that being this way is a choice, but" I paused and took a deep breath while I tried to ignore the sullen eyes staring into me. "I love women, not as friends, but in the way that women are supposed to love men." I sighed and stared at the ground, awaiting yelling or screaming, but it never came.

My mother merely walked away without a word. My father looked at me, his face was hardened but his eyes were teary. 

"Go home and pack your things. We never want to see you again." 

There were no tears in my eyes when I walked over to my brothers. I kissed and hugged them both as tight as I could. I lied and said I was bringing back snacks for the family, but I cried as I walked out because I didn't know when I would see either of them again, if  I would ever be able to see them again; Although, I assumed my parents would tell them what happened, they might never get the chance to actually know me. I turned to look back on my past one last time, then pushed forward through my first heartbreak.