Parity - 1. Topher

Although he set his alarm for six sharp, Topher was never still asleep by the time it went off. He always woke by five-thirty, or maybe a quarter-to-six at the latest. His heart sank in his chest, remembering what today was. The summer holidays were his favourite six weeks of the year, but they were over now. Today, Topher's penultimate school year commenced - but not at the school he knew and loved. Zack, Harper and Kevin would still be attending Saint Joseph's, but Topher's mother had decided to move him to another school under the guise of not being satisfied with the quality of their Catholic education. Topher wasn't fooled, though. He knew it was her brand of punishment.

He wasn't fancying the idea of starting all over at a new school at all, particularly with the added stress of Eleventh Year. Peatsland Academy was a well-respected private school, at least, but it was not a Catholic school. He knew of students who attended Peatsland, some genuinely worrisome characters that Gwen had previously told him to avoid. He sighed, thinking again of his sick mother. Her thinking was consistently muddy lately. He'd do anything he could to help, but he could only pray so hard for her.

Topher slithered out of his bed and flicked his light on, shielding his eyes from the sudden glare. He fished out a pair of fresh, clean pyjama bottoms and tossed them into his hamper. He wasn't supposed to sleep naked, and Gwen was known to sometimes snoop through his room, laundry and ensuite to find any evidence to suggest Topher was bending her rules. He slipped into a pair of neatly folded boxers and pulled up his active compression shorts over the top of them. He didn't need a shirt this morning. His window was open, and the sultry air was still warm, even though the sun hadn't yet peeked above the horizon.

He winced, trying with care to climb down the staircase without waking someone. His father quipped on occasion that he liked the stairs to creak because no thief or psychopath would make it up there without the whole street knowing about it. He poured himself a big glass of refrigerated water and drank it in one long gulp before sneaking out the back door. Topher loved living so close to the ocean. Only three short blocks and a sandy hill separated him from the beach, and with his window open, he could always smell the saltwater.

He walked bare-chested and barefoot down the road, illuminated by the orange street lamps and echoing the sound of gentle waves crashing in the distance. He did not bring his phone with him - he never did. The first hour of Topher's day belonged to him and nobody else. Well, maybe Kevin as well, he supposed. He shared dawn with Kevin most days unless his best friend was ill or wanted to sleep in. It was amazing how light and free the world seemed to become the moment he felt sand between his toes. There were no rules, restrictions and expectations here. The vast ocean was the most beautiful thing Topher had ever seen, and he felt closer to God here than he ever did at home or Church.

"You have that weird smile on your face again," Kevin Zhang suddenly interrupted his thoughts, appearing from behind as he walked down the wooden staircase that separated the beach from the road. He was dressed more traditionally for their run along the beach, with a white tank top, loose fitting shorts over his full-length compression tights and a pair of filthy running shoes on his feet. He and Topher grabbed each other's hands and briefly wrapped their left arms around each other. The man-hug seemed silly, but if it were the only way Kevin would voluntarily touch him anymore, ever since... well, it had become very awkward between them.

"Sorry, I know how much me being a morning person disgusts you," Topher grinned, and Kevin laughed. He was a tall, athletic Chinese boy of nearly seventeen years, taller than Topher, with black hair buzzed short and full, pouty red lips. He tended to scowl early in the mornings. Yet, he is here with me every day, Topher thought. If he dislikes being up at dawn so much, it must be me he wants to see. That makes sense, doesn't it? The two spent a few minutes stretching in preparation for their run as the sun began to lick the waves below and clouds above with streaks of orange and pink.

"Alright, let's get moving," Kevin decided suddenly, before dashing off at a sprint. Topher let out a small cry of surprise and took off, running as fast as he could in pursuit of his friend. They couldn't help but be competitive, it seemed. Topher was fit and a fast runner, but Kevin's nickname was Flash. Of the two, Kevin would always be the one to take home the gold medals and blue ribbons.

"That was a pretty poor effort, Christine," Kevin teased him when he slowed and Topher finally caught up, doubling over and bracing himself on his knees as he tried to catch his breath.

"Call me... Christine again... and I'll throw you... into the sea," Topher panted. Kevin laughed at him and gave him a supportive pat on the back.

"Whatever you say, Christine. You'll have to catch me first, and you don't stand a chance without your sports bra."
Topher grimaced a little. He didn't appreciate Kevin's tendency to lean on sexism as a way to tease and jeer at people. "Harper would deck if she heard you talking like that," he pointed out.

"Yeah, she probably would, but she's not here, is she? Now come on, Chrissy! You're as slow as a wet week, don't be a pansy."
Now that Kevin had asserted his dominance, the two ran side by side, their strides in unison. They ran for another two kilometres until they reached their checkpoint. It was a huge concrete pipe that seemed to come out from the deeper water and ran into the sandy hill on the other side. Topher had meant to find out what its purpose was for as long as he could remember, but he hadn't yet. Kevin sat down on it, out of breath and exhausted, fanning himself with his brown hands. Topher climbed up on it and gingerly walked along it, passing the shallow waves that gently caressed the sand underneath and the underside of the pipe.

"If you fall in, I'm not rescuing you!" Kevin warned him, but Topher only laughed. He'd never fallen in before, and even if he did, the water was shallow and he was an excellent swimmer. Five metres behind the tide, Topher sat down with a leg on each side, the cold water engulfing his feet and ankles.
"Come and join me, Flash!" He called out to Kevin, who shook his head in disbelief before hopping up as well, walking uncomfortably along the thick, dry concrete until he perched himself in front of his friend, crosslegged.

"School is going to suck today," Kevin moped, looking out towards the bay. The sun was up now, and the world was sufficiently bright. The sand was light and warm, the same colour as Topher's fair hair.

"What do you have to complain about?" Topher pointed out. "You're still going to have nearly everyone from our Church group with you. Zack and Harper as well."

"They're not you, Toph," Kevin said quietly, and Topher's eyes fell to the pipe below them. He felt himself beginning to blush, to his alarm.

"We're still going to run every day, aren't we?" Topher said, trying to be optimistic. He didn't like to see Kevin being sad, even if he was a jerk sometimes. "And breakfasts on Tuesdays and dinners on Thursdays. Mass on Sunday, too, as well as study group. We'll see each other all the time."

"Well, duh," Kevin grinned. "But I'm gonna miss you. How about you, though? How are you going to cope at Peatsland? Why aren't your folks sending you to another Catholic school?"

"I'll be fine," Topher shrugged. "It can't be all that bad, can it? It's not like it's some kind of trashy public school. Dad thinks I need some space from the Church, so he overruled Mum's decision to take me to some military camp."

"Yeah, but you know who goes there. Veikko Carlisle and Dominic Faye, for a start. Do you remember what they did to Zack?" Kevin laughed heartily, and Topher couldn't help but join him. "I guess he deserved it," the Chinese boy admitted.

He did, Topher thought. Zack and his family were particularly homophobic, and he often picked on Veikko Carlisle, a small, effeminate boy the same age as them who was an unrepentant homosexual. In response, Veikko's best friend Dominic Faye, a huge, well-built behemoth, took Zack to the ground and held him still while Veikko forced a kiss on his lips for nearly a full minute before Kevin decided to break it up. Although Topher had been alarmed at seeing a gay sexually assault his friend, he did nothing to help him. A man reaps what he sows, and Zack had to face the consequences.

"You're going to be stuck with people like that without any friends, man," Kevin said, unhelpfully.

Thank you very much, Kev, Topher thought bitterly. I did happen to notice that and had succeeded in making myself forget.

"I don't think it's our place to judge them," Topher said uneasily. He didn't want to come across as a gay-lover. Kevin wasn't maliciously homophobic, not the way Zack was, but that wasn't the point. Whether Kevin was aware of it or not, his attitude towards the queer community was a harmful one. Topher failed to understand homosexuality himself, but his father had encouraged him to mind his own business and leave people alone. "Besides, God will have my back," Topher added quickly before Kevin began to speculate anything. "He always does."

"Ugh, you and God need to get a room," Kevin joked. Topher grinned and cupped his hand in the saltwater beneath them, splashing it up. Kevin squawked and tried to shield himself with his hands, gasping as the cold water fell on both of them. Topher splashed him a second time, but Kevin grabbed Topher's wrists, forcing him to stop. They laughed and struggled for a few moments. Topher had no idea how it happened, but suddenly their lips were pressed together. They lowered their hands and clumsily kissed for nearly twenty seconds. Topher quivered. He felt cold all of a sudden, but Kevin's lips were hot, shooting sparks into his body and giving him goosebumps all over his body.

Topher felt Kevin's cold hand touching his shoulder and caressing his clavicle briefly before his friend suddenly pulled himself away and shuffled backwards, creating some distance between them. He looked hurt and confused. Ashamed. Topher looked at him, guiltily. He didn't mean for that to happen. Not again. He heard Kevin muttering under his breath as the taller boy pulled himself to his feet and walked back along the pipe to the beach. Topher leapt up and followed him until they both dismounted and he felt his feet hit the warm, dry sand.

"We shouldn't have done that!" Kevin was agitated, repeatedly running his hands over his face and through his fine hair. "Why would you do that?"

"I... I didn't mean... but... you did it too!" Topher stammered, pushing his long fair bangs off his face.

"You should have stopped me! You should have stopped yourself! Why don't you ever stop?" Kevin was getting angry. "Do you like tempting me? What's the matter with you, Toph?"

"I didn't mean to. I'm sorry if you think I did," he replied, uncomfortably. Did he mean to participate in the kiss? It was Kevin who initiated it this time, but when Kevin was like this Topher wasn't going to push him. It only made him angrier. He wasn't quite sure why he didn't stop himself, why he didn't stop his friend. He only knew he liked it while it lasted.

"Do you ever stop to think? Did you ever think for a minute that God is separating us because he's angry with us?" Kevin's words hit Topher right in the heart like a bullet from a rifle, causing his emotions to bleed from the wound.

"No. I don't accept that," Topher said softly, looking away. Kevin's beetle-black eyes were normally laughing and cheerful, but they were too hard to look at right now. He didn't like what he was seeing in them. Anger. Hate. Resentment. They hurt. "God didn't take me out of Saint Joseph's. My parents did."
Kevin exhaled angrily through his cute button nose and looked to the sky. "Whether it's God or our parents, it's the same thing, isn't it?" He thought aloud. "We have to stop. That's what God is telling us."

"If you want to stop... then I will. It won't happen again." Topher wasn't supposed to sound as miserable as he did. Truthfully he was gutted to hear Kevin say such things, but nobody likes a sissy boy. Suck it up. Man up. "I'm sorry, Kev. I didn't mean to upset you."

"I'm sorry too," Kevin sighed. He hopped to his feet. "C'mon, Toph. We better get back now, or I'll get a hiding."

The run back wasn't as enjoyable as the run to the pipe. Kevin barely said a word, and that was upsetting. They'd always been able to talk freely with each other, but ever since the first kiss, things had begun to get awkward between them. Now, after spending their lives growing up by each other's side, they weren't even going to graduate together. Upon reaching the road, Kevin didn't even look in Topher's direction.

"See you tomorrow, man," he said gruffly, and that was that. He started walking in the direction of his house. Topher ran his hands through his long bangs and sighed. Usually a run with Kevin was the best part of Topher's day, but by the time he reached the back door, he was thoroughly miserable. Why do you do this to me, Flash?

"G'day Junior!" Jon's warm, cheerful voice found his ears before he even saw his father sitting at the dining table. Father Jon was a unique man of the cloth. A sharp sense of humour and a rapier wit, and a happy-go-lucky attitude that Topher desperately tried to emulate. He was a tall, rail-thin man in his late fifties, olive-skinned with receding hair long gone more white than grey. Topher looked nothing like him, instead favouring the light hair, fair skin and sharp, blue eyes his mother had. On several occasions, Jon had also teased Topher about inheriting his mother's ample backside.

"Good morning Dad," Topher greeted him with a brief embrace.

"How was the run? You look like someone tried to mug you," Jon observed, sitting back down. The dining table was enormous, seating up to twelve people. It seemed a little indulgent just for the three of them. It always reminded Topher that his parents wanted a huge family but that dream never came to fruition. He was the only one.

"Hey, um... Dad... can I confess something?" Topher cautiously asked him. The guilt of what he'd done was starting to eat away at him. Before Jon could reply, Gwen stormed into the dining room. She was in her late fifties as well. Her short, fair hair had greyed and she'd become plump in the last few years, and a frown seemed to have permanently wrinkled in the corners of her mouth.

"Christopher, I was about to call someone to come and get you!" She barked at him, pointing a stubby, gold painted fingernail in his direction. "If you can't be bothered to be back on time when you're out on the beach, then as of today, you can stop going altogether!"

Shocked at the foulness of her mood and her unsolicited threat, he looked at the clock. It was only ten minutes past seven, and there had never been a rule that forced him to have returned by seven sharp. It was just a recommendation so that he had ample time to be ready for the day, have breakfast and be prepared for an hour of Bible study before school.

"I'm sorry, we must have lost track of time," Topher defended himself, trying not to upset her. "I won't take long to be ready, I promise."

"That is not the point, Christopher! And look, you've brought in half the bay with you!" She pointed to his feet, and Topher looked. He didn't see anything - no sand, no dirt. He always remembered to wipe his feet before he came inside.

"What are you talking about?" Jon broke in gently. "He hasn't tracked anything in, nothing that a quick sweep won't fix. He's a good boy."

"He's filthy. Just look at him," Gwen gestured with her hand. Topher couldn't help but feel angry at the unfair way she was treating him. "You will wear shoes from now on, do you understand? Inside and out. I won't have you looking like a derelict!"

"Yeees, Muuum," Topher's insolent reply drew a chuckle out of Jon, but Gwen didn't find it nearly as amusing as he did.

"And keep your ridiculous hair neat and tidy, or I'll cut it off myself!"

"Yeees, Muuum."

"Now get up there and into the shower, or you won't be having breakfast at all!"

"Yeees, Muuum."

"Christopher," Gwen said with a clenched jaw. Her voice was low and acidic. "Don't be impertinent. I don't like your tone."

He should have apologised. He knew he should have. Why didn't he? Instead, he met her eyes with his own, then made a show of humbling himself, bowing his head, clasping his hands in front of him and kicking the hardwood floor.

"Yes, Mum," he answered with sarcastic sincerity. With his eyes lowered to the floor, he didn't see what Gwen was doing. Her open palm hit him across his face, with all of her strength and weight behind it.

Topher didn't know what was more overwhelming. The shock and surprise, the pain from the impact or the noise it made. The sound her hand created when it connected with his left cheek was so loud that it caused a sharp ringing in his ear. The stinging caused tears to wet his long, blond eyelashes. That she would strike him in front of his father, though, perhaps that was what was most upsetting. She'd never done that before. The mother he knew would never have done that. Feeling his lip beginning to quiver and pressure building in his chest, Topher quickly turned and fled, shutting the door behind him. He held his face, the left cheek, as he scaled the stairs and closed his bedroom door behind him as well.

"Those who spare the rod hate their children, but those who love them are diligent to discipline them," Topher whispered to himself as he examined his face in the mirror. His cheek was red. It was one heck of a slap, harder than she'd ever done before. Wincing as his whole head throbbed, he stepped into his ensuite and turned on the showerhead, making sure the water was hot enough almost to cause him pain. He liked to be poached by the time he finished. He sat on the marble bench, his face in his hands, fighting the tears that threatened to leak from him. Nobody likes a sissy boy, he reminded himself. For longer than necessary he sat motionless while the stream of hot water enveloped him, turning his skin pink.

He giggled when he got out of the shower and saw his reflection. Hundreds of hours on the sands and in the water resulted in the rays of the sun toasting his skin to a honey-golden brown, but not where he'd worn his swimming shorts. The tan line stopped abruptly, and between his hips and halfway down his thighs, he was whiter than snow. It was absurd.

He dried himself off and put himself in a pair of expensive white slacks with a collared lavender shirt and a long black tie. With a sigh, he combed his hair back and ran a small amount of product through it. He grimaced, looking down at the clothes he was wearing. That's not you. But it has to be you, he reminded himself. Don't make her angry again. Keep her happy. She doesn't have long until God takes her to Heaven. There was a gentle knock on the door, and Topher invited his father in. Gwen wouldn't have knocked. She didn't believe her son needed privacy and boundaries. The first thing Jon did was to touch Topher's face, to examine what happened when his wife's hand struck him. The two of them sat together on the edge of Topher's bed.

"She really got you good, didn't she?" He remarked sadly, gently running his thumb over his cheek. "Are you alright, Junior? I came up earlier, but you were in the shower."

"I'm fine," Topher lied, forcing a smile on his face. "I shouldn't have provoked her, I'm sorry. It was my fault."

"It's not your fault. Your mother is sick, Topher. We will pray for her as much as we can. Be strong. For all of us." Topher's mouth twitched. It wasn't the first time. It won't be the last. "She loves you. You know that. We both love you. She... doesn't know what she's doing, what she's saying. She forgets how special you are sometimes. It's not her, Toph. Don't be mad at her. Pray for her."

Pray for her? He already did. Topher's eyes fell to the white carpet under his feet. How many nights had he prayed for her already? What was his reward for desperately asking God to help her, to make her better? She hit him. She yelled at him. She hated him. He knew she did.

"You know, Topher, you are a blessing. I wasn't always a holy man, you know. Neither was Mum, but don't try to tell her that. Gwen and I, well, we were told we would never be able to have children. Ever. We accepted that, and we were married for twenty-one years. Then God saw fit to give us a son. Not just any son, but the best son anyone could have asked for."

Topher had heard this story for his entire life. He'd even been sitting in the front row, red-faced and embarrassed, while Jon told this story during Mass and made parallels to the birth of Jesus Christ.

"We could have had a vicious kid like Zackary, or a little deviant like Veikko Carlisle, but He gave you to us. You're our little miracle. The day you were born, healthy and happy, I knew in my heart that God is here, and that was the day I decided to become a man of the cloth. Sometimes, just between you, me and the man upstairs, I struggle to keep my faith during these difficult times... with Mum. Then I look at you, my boy, and it all becomes crystal clear to me again. You are all the proof I need."

"I'm... I'm not, Dad. I'm not a blessing or a miracle. Please stop saying that," Topher admitted, unable to look his father in the eye. "I did something bad today."

"Is this about the confession you wanted to make?"

Topher suddenly lost his nerve. After the talk Jon had just given him, how could he possibly tell him the truth of what he was feeling? Not only was he feeling things for another boy, but he had tempted the other boy into kissing him. He was all Jon had now that Gwen was on her way out. He couldn't possibly disappoint his father.

"Never mind about that," Topher tried his best to smile in the face of the rotten feelings inside him, the way his father always did.

"Did you hurt somebody?" Jon asked, using his finger to gently tilt Topher's head back so they could maintain eye contact.

"Of course not," the younger boy scoffed, baffled by the mere thought.

"Alright. Did you steal something?"

"No!"

"Did you make a pact with the devil?"

"Well, no," Topher couldn't help but titter in spite of the conflict inside him. Father Jon was popular amongst the community. He made both Mass and Sunday School enjoyable and interactive with his sense of humour and warm heart, a priest indiscriminate and supportive to everyone. Not a father to Topher alone, but to everybody who needed one.

"Then whatever's troubling you isn't a big problem, as far as I'm concerned," Jon had a playful grin on his face. "You're nearly a grown man, now. I'll leave you to decide if and when you want to talk to me about it. You know where to find me." He leaned down and kissed his son on the forehead. "I've cancelled your Bible study with Mum this morning. We can always catch up another time. Come and have breakfast, then do whatever you like until it's time for school. Read, watch one of your shows, masturbate, whatever you teenagers do these days."

"Dad!" Topher went beet red. The truth is he thought about pleasuring himself in the shower, but he struggled to commit to it in recent weeks. His thoughts always seemed to drift to Kevin nowadays or other guys from his parish, then to guilt, especially about tempting his best friend to sin. "I just really don't want to see Mum right now."

"That's a horrible thing to say, Topher," Jon told him sternly. "I know she's difficult and she hurt you, but she is not well, and she is still your Mum. She needs you, son. She doesn't have much longer to go, and we both need to make sacrifices."

That was easy for his father to say! It wasn't him that Gwen lashed out at all the time, it was Topher. Why didn't Jon stop her? Why was he just letting Topher suffer at Gwen's hands, just because of the tumour? He hated his father at that moment. Gosh. He didn't want his mother to die, but he was desperate for it all to end somehow. Perhaps Kevin was right about everything all along. Maybe it was his just punishment for letting himself succumb to sin. It was his fault that his mother was so sick.