Monday, November 16, 2009


He did it again today….
He called. He called? He called and for a moment I stopped breathing and for a moment I was pissed and for many moments afterword, I was hurt.

Here’s the thing…
A few years ago, at the ripe age of 16 my father caught me and my neighbor/best friend fooling around. We were up in the old tree house in the backyard, apparently he called me to come down, and I didn’t hear him, which was no shock because I had a dick in my mouth. Earlier in the week, for the very first time, I’d discovered porn. Poor Ryan didn’t know that he was going to be my lab rat that afternoon. We were in the middle of the “somewhere over the rainbow” when I heard a loud scream. As I was coming out of my backbend, I see a fist coming towards my face. I felt a cowboy boot kick me in the rib, the warmth of spit crowned my head and the screams of hate and disappointment rang back and forth in my already throbbing head. And the only thing I could think was, if Ryan didn’t like it that much all he had to do was say something, ass. As another fist attacked my already shaken body, the voice rang in my head again, and I realized that hate was spewing out of the mouth of my father. These words, these wound inflicting, heart scarring words, were falling out of the mouth of the same man who said he loved me not even four hours before. I didn’t know what to do.

“You disgust me you faggot! Get the fuck out of my face and out of my house!” I can hear the melody of his hate to this day, every pitch, and every inflection. I can see the spit gathered at the side of his mouth. I remember saying nothing. I remember hearing my heart crack. I remember feeling blood trickle over my lip. I remember my world stopping. The last thing I remember, after gathering my things and what I had left of my pride, was the sting of his hand against the back of head and an “I wish you were never born, I hate you!”
He left the next day. I lost a father. I lost one half of my support team. I lost the man who taught me to play catch and the piano. I lost the man who bragged to everybody how he could hold me in the palm of his hand. I lost the man whose splitting image I became.
I gained a new understanding of me.
He called today for the first time since then. I didn’t answer.
I wonder what happened to Ryan?

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