
Jan. 29, 2012, 9:21 a.m.
Jan. 29, 2012, 9:21 a.m.
...
“Mom, can I have a minute?” Blaine asked cautiously as he walked into the kitchen.
“For asking so nicely, you can have two minutes.” Mrs. Anderson said with a wink.
“Well you know howI was bullied at school before I transferred?” he said
“Yes I do, grab me some basil please? Your pasta is almost done.” Mrs. Anderson said with a smile. “If there’s one thing I can do to make you happier it’s cook, isn’t it sweetie?”
“You know what mom, never mind. I can tell you some other time.” Blaine said as he hurried out of the room.
“Blaine! Come back! You know you can tell me anything right?”
“Ok, but please don’t be mad,” Blaine whispered shakily.
“I promise whatever it is can never be that bad,” she said, “Blaine honey, what is it? You’re starting to scare me!” Mrs. Anderson said with surprise.
“Mom I don’t know how to say it, but I think...well over time I’ve come to realize...that maybe...the boys at my old school...they found out...well I told them... but you know I had to transfer...because well I think well actually I know.... Mom, I’m gay.” Blaine finally managed to stammer.
The kitchen was filled with a tension that was so thick someone could have cut it with a knife.
“You’re what?” Mrs. Anderson hissed icily.
“I’m gay Mom.” Blaine sighed, his voice filled with hope.
“No you’re not; you’re only 15, you
don’t even know what gay is. Now stop being stupid and go wash up for dinner,” she said nervously.
“Mom, I know what I am, please believe me. Please accept me.” Blaine said with a sob.
“No you are not! Now go get ready for dinner.” Mrs. Anderson began to cry and she fell to the floor.
Blaine crouched down to hold his mom. “Mom it’s ok, I know it will take some time. It took dad awhile
but...”
“YOU TOLD YOUR FATHER! Blaine you are a horrible, horrible person. And don’t touch me. I don’t want faggots touching me!” Mrs. Anderson’s shrill words filled the room.
It was like Blaine had been slapped.
He ran up to his room and didn’t come down until the next morning. When he came downstairs, he immediately looked for his dad.
“Dad, where’s mom?” Blaine inquired.
“She left,” Mr. Anderson said firmly. “And I don’t think she’s coming back.”
...
Blaine felt hot tears roll down his cheeks. He couldn’t deal with this again. He couldn’t be alone again like that. He couldn’t go on this vacation.
He got up in frustration, but remembering his dad’s words, went to his closet and began to pack.
“Tomorrow is going to be complete hell,” Blaine muttered under his breath.