Stormy Sixteen - Part One

         A sixteen-year-old left his home overlooking the small town, and made his way along a quiet, rain-soaked avenue in the early evening.

         It had been raining dogs and cats throughout the day. The streets, lawns and sidewalks held thin layers of moisture. Steady streams of water sprinted through the curbs and eventually found their way into sewer drains. A cool, damp breeze swept in from the north, forcing pedestrians to dress accordingly for the chilly, wet weather.

         The sixteen-year-old wore a thin, black windbreaker, a pair of faded jeans, a baseball cap, and worn sneakers which didn’t keep water from seeping onto sweaty, white socks.  The sixteen-year-old didn’t care.

He also didn’t care if he lived or died.

More than anything, he simply wanted to break away from the large, two-story Victorian home he shared with his parents and three younger siblings.

         The Victorian house was no longer a home for the sixteen-year-old. The heavy winds and rain drenching the small town were nothing compared to the storm facing the sixteen-year-old, within the walls which once had been a sanctuary.

         Life was never a bed of roses for the sixteen-year-old. Gradually, things had gone from bad to worse. Beginning in the sixth grade, the sixteen-year-old sensed that he was “different” . . .  an oddball, a weirdo, strange. He experienced feelings of dependency, need, and physical attraction toward certain classmates, and didn’t understand why. He sought out warmth and acceptance from others. It wasn’t just a craving for friendship, but something far deeper and stronger. At first, instincts and voices told him things which he ignored and denied.

         Years later, the sixteen-year-old realized that such thoughts, feelings and emotions meant only one thing:

         LOVE.

         The sixteen-year-old was falling in love.

         All well and good… until the sixteen-year-old realized that he was falling in love with another guy….

         The sixteen-year-old went out of his way to gain approval from another boy who shared similar interests and hobbies. He constantly hung out with the other boy, until the two were inseparable. It wasn’t enough to say that the sixteen-year-old spent much of his time with the other boy. He WANTED to be with the other boy, ALL of the time! The sixteen-year-old felt dissatisfied and empty if he wasn’t with the other boy. He often invited the other boy to family get-togethers. In turn, he was a major part of the other boy’s clan.

         One night the sixteen-year-old slept over in the other boy’s bedroom. One unforgettable and crucial moment, he got a full glimpse of the other boy’s undressing in front of him… clear to the birthday suit. The sixteen-year-old was totally captivated and mesmerized by this event. Images of the other boy’s nudity were forever etched into his mind and conscience, to the point where they never left his head. Indeed, the sixteen-year-old was obsessed by the other boy’s body. He enjoyed seeing it, he fantasized about it, he masturbated to it.

         Eventually, the sixteen-year-old came to an undeniable truth concerning his thoughts of the other boy. It wasn’t just friendship or camaraderie tying him to the other boy. He was in love with him. DEEPLY IN LOVE. So deeply in love that the sixteen-year-old couldn’t hold his feelings back.

         One late night the sixteen-year-old and the other boy intoxicated themselves on local brew and marijuana. There, the sixteen-year-old confessed his love, needs, and affections to the other boy.

         The sixteen-year-old received an answer in the form of a black eye, a bloody nose, a fat lip, and banishment from the other boy’s life …

         Then things got steadily worse….

         Soon, the other boy informed his schoolmates of the sixteen-year-old’s misdeed. News spread like wildfire, until everybody, everything, and everyone on campus got word of this error-in-judgement, which forever altered the sixteen-year-old’s reputation and mere existence.

         News was not reserved for the high school. Every kid blabbed to their own families… parents included… until this information reached the sixteen-year-old’s home, where his kin got an earful of it.

         The sixteen-year-old’s adolescence was already bizarre and awkward. It became increasingly more bizarre and awkward. Once rumors reached the home front, it brought on a difficult and strained effect between the sixteen-year-old and his parents.

During one especially painful night, the sixteen-year-old’s mother questioned him of the incident involving the other boy. The sixteen-year-old initially denied the matter. His anxiety, fear, and endless stuttering gave him away. That very next day, his father cornered him in a very intimidating and threatening fashion. Once again, the sixteen-year-old claimed ignorance and innocence.

And, once again, his actions and behavior told a different story. Eventually, the sixteen-year-old gave in and stated something he preferred not to share with his parents and three siblings.

He was gay….

In the days and weeks to come, no one in the family even attempted to discuss the issue of the sixteen-year-old’s sexuality. Still, it remained a source of tension and animosity. At first, the father merely claimed that it was a “stage” which would soon pass. The mother was unable to conceal worry and panic. The younger siblings distanced themselves from the sixteen-year-old, yet became the targets for other children’s ill-humor and cruelty. The family’s status within their church was now in doubt, as Sunday services proved to be a challenge for everyone in attendance. The sixteen-year-old and his family finally chose to stay at home, rather than be subjected to the glares, the stares, and the ugly rumors.

The sixteen-year-old hoped to gain support and understanding from his parents. The levels of quiet tension around the house were unbearable. Sure, on one level the mom did speak, yet avoided her son’s sexuality and refused to even get near it. Meanwhile, the father’s lack of communication toward the sixteen-year-old carried more weight than the harshest of words. He had his meals taken to him in the study, away from the family. In time, he wouldn’t acknowledge the sixteen-year-old’s existence. The father even went so far as to take his wife and younger children out to dinner and a superhero movie…. leaving the sixteen-year-old alone and isolated in a cold, dreary house.

Never once did the father tell the sixteen-year-old that he hated him. Yet, since unwanted news entered the house, he never again told the sixteen-year-old that he loved him. Few words were traded between father and son in more than a month, and the silence was indeed thunderous.

School was no longer an institution of education, or a place to hang out with buddies. Instead, it was a locale of endless torture. The sixteen-year-old went from being a typical sophomore to becoming a punching bag. The sixteen-year-old was constantly slapped, slugged, pushed, shoved, insulted, and belittled. Social media sites as FACEBOOK and TWITTER were reminders of lost ties and shattered friendships within the hallowed corridors of learning and self-discovery. The sixteen-year-old’s contacts and friends list had shrunk significantly. It didn’t prevent enemies from sending him threatening or demeaning posts and messages. There was nowhere on campus that provided the sixteen-year-old safety or refuge. Walks to and from school were met with cold stares, a lack of warm conversation from neighbors, and the endless profanities and slurs from former chums and allies.

Tears and sadness replaced happiness and joy… so much so where it got to the point that the sixteen-year-old believed that his life meant nothing to no one. The only solution meant to remove himself from the world entirely. The sixteen-year-old went from fearing life more than the possibilities of his own death.

The only solution of obtaining peace and calm meant welcoming death itself.

That night, the sixteen-year-old left the Victorian home and his family for the very last time. The closing of the door behind him meant shutting out what love and acceptance he once had there. The chilly, damp air of the stormy evening wasn’t near as cold or inhospitable as the hearts of those who once appreciated the sixteen-year-old, or granted him warmth and belonging. The only comforts came in thoughts that the pain would soon cease forever. Clearly, the sixteen-year-old’s life was rendered meaningless at that point.

Obviously, his demise would render even more meaningless results….

The sixteen-year-old wandered aimlessly through the rain-soaked small town, wearing a dead, blank expression. His emotions ranged from extreme melancholy and defeat, to that of totally giving up or even lacking concern. He took little notice to everyone and everything around him. He paid no mind to those few people he encountered along the way. If anyone said “hi” or wished him a good evening, he simply grunted. He was now on a final mission, designed to put an end to a life which took an unplanned and pathetic turn, and became increasingly more pitiful with each passing day….

Well, no matter….

It’ll all be over soon….

Who the hell gives a shit?

Moments after leaving what once had been his home, the sixteen-year-old found himself on a steel, concrete and cement bridge, spanning thirty or forty feet above tracks belonging to the Union Pacific Railroad.

The sixteen-year-old stood upon the bridge. He glanced downward into a blackened abyss toward a couple of train tracks below, barely visible in the haze and darkness of night. Well, down below was where a sad, sorry, pathetic excuse of a life would come to its sad, sorry, pathetic end…. If only the sixteen-year-old gave himself permission to leap from the bridge and take the final plunge…

(To be continued)