Good Things Fall Apart

Shambolic

The words hang in the room like dark clouds, electricity crackling in their gray folds. A concoction of emotions courses through him, a punch of terror, a puff of relief, all underlined by anxiety, thick and heavy.

Victor's stomach turns when he sees his parents' expressions. His confession echoes around the room. They'd already been upset—maybe it wasn't a good time, but if the world is ending as the Salazar family knows it, Victor couldn't live with himself if the secret stayed buried. The weight on his shoulders slips away, replaced by an odd, hollow pit.

Still, he finds himself fighting a smile. The words were so foreign in his mouth, even though they've been ricocheting around his head since they came to Atlanta, since Texas. He'd actually said it, out loud.

"I'm gay."

"Victor," his father groans, head in his hands.

His mother's lips are pursed, eyes brimming with shock, with fear. "I—I don't understand," she says and fidgets on the couch.

Pilar looks scared, breath held. She stares up at Victor, concerned but still angry.

"What about Mia? She's... I don't understand," his mother repeats, light glinting against the tears welling up in her lids.

Victor shakes his head and looks down. "That's...it's complicated. I thought I liked her—I mean, I do like her. Just not like that."

"What is this about?" his father says. His face shifts, juggling confusion, incredulous anger, despair. The world is caving in. "Is this because of what your mother and I just told you?"

Victor narrows his eyes. "Are you kidding?" he says as Pilar scoffs and glares at their father. "You think I'm making this up?"

"I think you don't know what you're talking about. Those boys, the ones who came to the party, they've put these—these ideas in your head." The pitch and volume of his voice are on a steady incline.

Victor's mother lays a tentative hand on his knee. "Mando, breathe," she says, then looks back to Victor. "This...was a bad time to tell us this, mi amor," she says. The words sting, almost as much as the guilt in her voice.

Victor shrugs and does a half turn toward his room. He's crying now, tears dripping from his chin and onto his suit. "I was sick of hiding." Victor brings his hand to his face and swipes at tears with his knuckles, but they won't stop flowing. A reservoir has opened, long sealed shut, furious water racing through and out.

To his surprise, Pilar jumps from her seat and crosses the room. She grabs his arm and pulls him down the hallway. Their mother calls after them, "Wait!" but Victor doesn't acknowledge the sound. Quick footsteps, door slam; before he knows it he's on his bed, sobbing into Pilar's shoulder. He trembles as it all breaks, poison siphoned from the wound. Pilar rubs circles on Victor's back.

Stupid, stupid mistake. He berates himself, over and over, until he can't take it anymore. He takes a tear-soaked fist and pounds it against his chest.

Pilar gasps and grabs his arm. "Victor, stop that," she says, and the fact that she's also crying is enough to force him back into his body.

Victor hiccups and gives her a concerned look, to which she responds with a watery laugh. "Don't look so worried. I'll be fine. You're the one I'm worried about."

Remorse washes over him, a high tide of regret. He's not the only one hurting, after all, not after the bombshell news they've just received.

"What's gonna happen?" Victor asks with a sniffle.

Pilar looks to the door, then down at the chipped nail polish on her fingers. "I don't know."

"Do you think I'm a horrible person?" he says, and with the question emerges another bout of tears.