Storms - 37. Loz

I was expelled. This came as no surprise. I already knew it would happen, and I knew I deserved it. Honestly, I didn’t even want to stay. I had no friends, and there was no way I could face Daniel day after day. He shouldn’t have to face me either. I was set to start a new school after the Christmas holidays. Since there were only a couple of weeks left of term there was no point in doing so straight away. In the meantime, my therapy continued.

‘How are you today?’ Mr. Morelli asked me. It was Tuesday before Christmas.

I shrugged. ‘I dunno. Tired. I just, I’m tired. Like, I don’t know how to fix it. Me. Daniel. I want to fix what I did to him and I just can’t. And I’m so tired, of all of it. I mean, I’m grateful that I’m being given a second chance. I get it. I understand what I did. I don’t think . . . I won’t do it again. Ever. But I don’t know what to do next.’

‘Well, I’m glad you understand what you did,’ said Mr. Morelli. He no longer took notes while we talked. When I asked him why he said it was because he knew me now. He didn’t need them anymore. ‘As for what to do next, that’s up to you, really.’

‘I want to come out,’ I said. ‘I mean, I’m terrified, but I want to do it. To my brothers, at least. If Dad was okay with it, maybe they . . . Anyway, I can’t just keep going around lying to them. I don’t want to pretend to like girls. That’s, this is what put me in this mess to begin with, sort of. Right?’

Mr. Morelli nodded. ‘It certainly seems so.’

I blinked, looked down at my hands. Considered whether to actually say what was going through my head. I bit my lip.

He always knew when something was up. ‘What are you thinking, Loz?’

Looking up at him, I sighed. ‘I feel like if I go on the way I am . . . if nothing changes . . . I might kill myself.’

Mr. Morelli pursed his lips and frowned. ‘That seems like a very permanent solution to a temporary problem.’

‘Yeah, well . . . that’s why I need to do it. You know? Come out, I mean.’

He nodded again. ‘Yes. I do. Have you got a plan?’

I shook my head. ‘No. Just . . . vague thoughts.’

‘That’s good. But, Loz. When you get thoughts like that, please share them. Don’t keep them to yourself. And if you ever feel like you might do it,’ he got up and went over to his desk, taking a card from a small pile, ‘you can call this number and you’ll get help. All right?’ He handed the card to me, and I took it.

‘Yeah. Thanks. I don’t . . . I don’t think I’d actually do it.’

‘I don’t either,’ said Mr. Morelli. ‘But better safe than sorry.’

I nodded. ‘Yeah.’

* * *

When I got home from my appointment, I was surprised to find Christmas music playing in the kitchen. My family weren’t exactly sentimental about Christmas. My only living grandparent was my dad’s dad, who had dementia and was in a nursing home; we always visited him on Christmas Eve. We weren’t exactly in touch with Mum’s younger brother, and Dad was an only child. As such, it was always just the four of us. We had a plastic tree we’d set up, Dad would cook a turkey, and we’d open some presents. Maybe watch something on telly. And that was it.

Dad had tried to date a bit at first, after Mum left, and when I was seven he’d had a long term girlfriend who celebrated Christmas with us. The relationship had ended pretty quickly after that. George had been, well, George, and Myra had not been impressed. After that, Dad gave up. He didn’t really have time with three sons to raise and a business to run, anyway.

I went into the kitchen where I found Darren elbows deep in a large bowl, listening to Merry Xmas Everybody by Slade on a bluetooth speaker. The oven was on. Darren looked up when I entered and smiled at me. ‘Hey, little bro! How was your shrink appointment?’

‘Er . . . it was fine.’ I frowned. ‘Are you baking?’

He laughed. ‘Yeah. Thought I’d try something new. Wanted to surprise everyone.’

‘Well, colour me surprised,’ I said and sat down at the table. ‘What are you making?’

‘Just gingerbread. Fairly basic. Recipe I found online.’

I smiled. ‘That’s actually really nice. I guess I just didn’t think you’d . . .’ I paused. Didn’t think he’d what? Do something as girly as baking?

Darren wiped his hands on a towel and turned to me. As if he’d read my mind he said, ‘Dude, guys can bake too, you know.’

I looked down and scratched the back of my neck. ‘Yeah. I know.’

‘Of course, I can’t promise they’ll be any good.’ He grinned. ‘I don’t think I’ve baked since primary school or something.’

‘I’ll bet they’ll be great.’ I chewed my lip, hesitating. Darren returned to his baking, tipping the dough out of the bowl and onto the counter, rolling it out. I didn’t even know we had a rolling pin. ‘Hey . . . Darren,’ I said after a few moments.

‘Yeah?’

Licking my lips, I hesitated again. Was I really going to do this? Right now? What if he’d hate me?

‘What is it, mate?’ he prompted, looking at me over his shoulder.

‘I just . . . I need to tell you something.’ My heart hammered in my chest and my palms felt sweaty. I wiped them on my jeans.

Darren laughed. ‘Why so serious?’

‘I—Never mind. It’s nothing.’

Turning around again, Darren gave me a quizzical look. ‘What’s going on, Loz?’

I squeezed my eyes tightly shut for a few seconds. When I opened them again, Darren was still looking at me, arms folded across his chest, and I sighed. Might as well just say it.

‘I’m gay.’

My heart beat so hard I thought it might jump out of my chest. I wanted to bolt from the room, but I remained in my seat, and Darren stood there by the counter, just looking at me. It felt like an eternity passed, and I held my breath.

But then he smiled. ‘Yeah. I kind of figured.’

I swallowed hard. ‘How?’

Darren shrugged. ‘I dunno. Just a feeling, I guess. Always seemed kind of . . . forced, when we’d talk about girls and you chimed in. Like you never really meant it.’ He paused. ‘Does Dad know?’

I nodded. ‘Yeah. He’s known since . . . since I got expelled.’ I bit my bottom lip again. ‘He . . . was pretty okay with it.’ I searched Darren’s eyes, but wasn’t sure what I was even looking for. ‘Are . . . are you mad, or—?’

He laughed. ‘Why would I be mad?’

I looked away. ‘Cause your brother’s a faggot?’

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Darren run his fingers through his hair. ‘Yeah, I’ve been kind of a dick about shit like that before, haven’t I?’ He sighed. ‘You’re not a faggot, Loz. And I’m not mad.’ He sat down at the table opposite me. ‘You’re my brother. I’ve got your back, okay?’

Meeting his gaze, I found him smiling, and I slowly returned his smile. ‘Thanks.’

‘Guessing Dad and me are the only ones who know?’

‘Two of you and my shrink, yeah.’

‘I know I’ve acted like a massive homophobe before,’ said Darren. ‘It’s just banter, but . . . I’ll try not to do it. Been trying, actually, since I started to suspect. Not saying it’s gonna be easy if you bring a boyfriend home or anything, but I’ll do my best.’ He chuckled. ‘You know, I actually made out with a guy once, at a party.’

I stared at him. ‘What?’

‘It’s true. Came onto me in an empty bedroom. I was gonna deck him, but then I thought . . . what the hell, right? I was pretty fucking wasted, though.’

‘I’ve never even—’ I cut myself off. I’d been about to say I’d never done anything like that, but that was a lie. I had kissed a boy. I’d had sex with a boy. Only it hadn’t been consensual. And I wasn’t ready to tell Darren about that. Not yet. I would, but . . . not yet.

‘That doesn’t matter. If I knew I was straight without ever having kissed a girl, you can know you’re gay without having kissed a boy, right?’ he reasoned.

I knew Darren was smart. He did well in school, had got all Bs and As for his GCSEs. As opposed to George and me, he had a good head on his shoulders. He was well adjusted and, as it had turned out recently, surprisingly empathetic.

‘I didn’t want to be,’ I muttered.

‘Who would?’ said Darren, and I looked up at him. He must have seen the hurt on my face because he laughed and added, ‘I didn’t mean it like that. I just mean, the world sucks. Knowing how some people will treat you, why would you want to be gay? Knowing how your own family might . . . I’m sorry, bro. For what it’s worth, you’re really brave. Seriously, respect. I’m glad you told me.’

I held back the tears. I never expected this. Never even imagined that he would be this nice about it, that he would accept me like this.

Now only George remained. Only time would tell how he’d react, but now I felt like there was hope. Actual, real hope.

* * *

Christmas was what Christmas always was, if somewhat more subdued than normal in my case. It was hard to get into the Christmas spirit with so much bad shit simmering in my brain. On Boxing Day, I returned home from a quick shopping trip to find Darren watching a football match on telly. I deposited the groceries in the kitchen, where Dad was busy cooking.

‘Cheers, Lawrence,’ he said. ‘Tell your brother to give me a hand, yeah?’

‘Think you’ll have a hard time tearing him away from that match,’ I said, smiling.

‘How much is left?’

‘Not too long, I think.’

Dad sighed. ‘Fine. Tell him to come help me soon as it’s done, yeah?’

‘Sure.’ I went back out into the living room and sat down next to Darren on the sofa. ‘Who’s winning?’

‘Chelsea,’ said Darren, grinning. ‘Bournemouth’s got fuck-all.’

‘Nice. Dad wants you to come help with the cooking after it’s done.’

Darren frowned. ‘Why can’t you do it?’

‘I did my part, I went to the shops.’

Just then, George walked into the living room holding a beer can. ‘Ugh. Is there nothing better on?’

Darren glanced at him, eyebrow raised. ‘You occupied the telly earlier. It’s my turn.’

‘Yeah, well, that was Crystal Palace.’

Darren laughed. ‘Piss off! Crystal Palace tied with Watford, Chelsea’s slaughtering Bournemouth. I think it’s obvious which the better team is here.’

‘Only faggots like Chelsea,’ George grumbled and took a swig of his beer.

‘Call me a faggot, then,’ said Darren, shrugging one shoulder.

‘Fine, you’re a faggot.’

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. ‘Come on, you guys. It’s just football.’

‘And you’re a faggot and all,’ said George. ‘“Just football” . . .’

Darren gave me a sidelong glance. ‘Stop using that word, bro.’

George laughed. ‘What the fuck for?’

‘Don’t you think it’s getting old? I mean, who the fuck cares?’

Until now, George had sounded amused. Now his tone darkened. ‘What, so you think it’s just fine to fuck a bloke in the arse, do you?’

‘Honestly, I don’t give a fuck,’ said Darren with a shrug. ‘None of my business what folks get up to.’

‘Well, maybe you are a faggot then.’

Darren laughed. ‘Did you miss the part where I have a girlfriend with massive tits, dude? Now will you shut up so I can watch the match, please?’

‘Fine. Fucking faggot.’

Before I knew what I was doing, I had stood out of my seat and turned to George. ‘Will you just fucking stop it?’

George laughed. ‘Oh, so you’re the family faggot, then!’

‘Yes, I am!’

My eldest brother frowned. ‘Stop fucking around.’

‘Not fucking around,’ I said, because now I might as well just get it out there. ‘I’m gay. What are you gonna fucking do about it?’

George’s frown turned to fury. ‘I’m gonna fucking deck you if you don’t take that back.’

I stood my ground. ‘Not taking back what’s true.’

The punch was expected, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. Then Darren was out of his seat, football match forgotten, and grabbed George by the arm, pulling him away from me. ‘What the fuck, man? He’s your brother!’

‘He’s a faggot!’

‘So what?’

‘What the hell is going on in here?’ Dad stepped into the living room, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel. He caught sight of me. George had punched me right in the eye, and it must already have been bruising. ‘Loz? Jesus, what just happened in here?’

‘Your son’s a homo, is what happened!’ George was fuming, trying to get out of Darren’s grip, though Darren had his arms locked behind his back now. George was strong, but Darren worked out more. He was stronger. ‘I’m gonna fucking kill you, you bastard!’ George spat at me.

I tried to hold back the tears. Tried to stay calm, stoic, not show him how much he had just hurt me, but my throat constricted and I sobbed. I wasn’t going to let George see me cry. So I ran.

Without taking a coat, I ran out into the cold. I rushed down the stairs, ears ringing. My whole life, I’d looked up to George. He’d been funny, outgoing, and very protective of me at one point. And he was strong and tough and didn’t take shit from anyone. Things had changed a bit since he finished high school, but he was still George. He was my big brother, and I had hoped, had hoped so hard that once he knew he’d change his mind, just like Dad and Darren had done. Deep down I had known, though. Known that he would never accept me.

I ended up at the playground and, sinking down to the ground until I sat in the snow, knees pulled up to my chest and back against the swingset, I let it happen. I gasped, tears streaming down my face. Sobbing, hyperventilating, I rocked back and forth where I sat and then, because there was no one around in the late afternoon on Boxing Day anyway, I screamed. Howled miserably at the top of my lungs, and then allowed myself to cry in earnest, like a fucking baby. I didn’t care. George hated me, and soon, once I told him what I’d done, Darren would hate me, too. And part of me wanted to die.

It felt like forever, but I’d only been sitting there for a couple of minutes when Darren showed up. He had my coat with him. ‘Hey, little bro,’ he said softly. ‘You okay?’ He crouched in the snow next to me. I pulled a gasping breath, trying to stop crying, but my breath hitched in my throat and I hung my head in shame, hiding my face.

Darren draped my coat around my shoulders, and then he hugged me. The sheer surprise of it shut me up, and I sniffed. He held me for a long time, stroking my back, and after a while I returned the hug, burying my face in his shoulder.

Sitting back again, he combed his fingers through my hair. ‘You’ll freeze out here,’ he said. ‘Let’s go back, eh?’

I shook my head. ‘I can’t . . . I just, I can’t.’

Darren frowned. ‘If you’re worried about George, don’t be. Dad gave him a proper talking to. Said he’d fire him if he didn’t behave. Then he said that he’s got a month to find a new place to live.’

I blinked. ‘He really did that?’

‘Yup.’ Darren nodded. ‘So it’s okay. You don’t have to be afraid of him. He won’t hurt you again.’

I shook my head and looked down. ‘I fucking deserve to be hurt.’

‘No you don’t. Loz, it’s all right. You’re all right. There’s nothing wrong with you, mate.’

‘Everything’s wrong with me!’ I argued. ‘If you knew what I’ve done . . .’

Darren looked at me for a moment, tried to catch my eye, but I refused to meet his gaze. ‘What do you mean? Done what, Loz?’

‘I’m fucking sick, okay? I’m . . .’ I clenched my fists and then I just said it. ‘I fucking raped someone! I fucked a guy in the arse without consent cause I had feelings for him and that’s why I was expelled. I am disgusting. I’m fucked up, and I deserve to be beaten for it. I deserve to fucking die! You should’ve just let him.’

‘What the hell are you talking about?’ He stared at me for a long time and in the end, I looked at him. His face was unreadable.

‘It’s true,’ I said softly. ‘I did that. To someone I cared about because he didn’t like me back and because I couldn’t accept—’ I swallowed. ‘Doesn’t matter why I did it. It can’t ever be forgiven. I’m an ugly, pathetic, horrible, fucked up bastard. I hurt him much worse than George could ever hurt me.’

Darren licked his lips. ‘Dad knows?’

I scoffed. ‘Of course Dad knows.’ I sighed. ‘And you had to find out eventually, too. So now you know. Now you know what I’m really like. So just go home. Tell Dad you couldn’t find me. They say freezing to death is a good way to go.’

Darren stood up and took a step back, shaking his head. ‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’

‘Everything, clearly! Like I said.’

‘For fuck’s sake, Loz, don’t be such a melodramatic cunt!’ he shouted. ‘You’re coming home if I’ve got to drag you there.’ He grabbed me by the arm and pulled me to my feet. ‘I dunno what happened, and I don’t give a shit, all right? You’re not gonna fucking kill yourself out here, are you fucking insane? Get your coat on!’

In my surprise and shock, I did what he said. ‘But I—’ I began, but he cut me off.

‘Whatever you did you’re my brother and I fucking love you, okay? So you’re coming the fuck home and we can deal with the rest later.’

I blinked, licked my lips, and then the tears came back. I hid my face in my hands. Then Darren had his arms around me again. ‘Fucking moron. Get your head out of your arse.’ He let me go, grabbed my arm again and dragged me along in the direction of home. ‘Made me miss the end of the match, too,’ he muttered, and in spite of myself, I laughed.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said.

Darren gave me a crooked smile. ‘Yeah. I’m sorry, too. Now let’s just go home.’

It may be a couple of weeks before the next update. I've been having a lot of anxiety lately, so writing has been hard. But I'm not going anywhere, I promise! Never again! Love you all.