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The Mirror and
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Section 5
The mirror and I don’t talk very much now that my parents and I have had our talk. Pressure is still around me. I’m still not out yet to my friends, but now, I have my parents to stand by me. I have one other to stand by my side, a teacher, who is also gay. Then there is Jeff, Jeff is gay and it’s known throughout school to be true. I helped him stand on his feet, and he’ll know in a few seconds, I’m gay too.
I carried my lunch tray to a table far from my usual table and sat without asking. Jeff stared with his brown eyes at the football jock sitting next to him. I smiled as fear seemed to take a hold of Jeff. Did he forget how I helped him to his knees, and gathered his books? Surely, he would remember me, or perhaps, he has me already figured out. Is it possible he sees me as another tormenting jock?
“Jeff, do you remember me?” I said as I waited for some recognition from his cute face.
“Yeah, I remember you, so why are sitting here Alex instead of with them?” he said, turning to backwards to the table of jocks who seemed to glare back only not at him. I knew that those faces where all aimed at me.
“Oh them, that’s my problem, but I came here to tell you something important. Can I trust you?” I said as he thought it over.
A smile broke through and said “Sure!” I took one more glance back, then the words got stuck in my throat and wouldn’t come up.
“Well!?” Jeff said as one more bite was taken from his pizza.
“Jeff… I’m… gay.” there, it’s finally out. Now what will happen, what he will say?
He looked at me, paused for a second then said “Alex, I already knew….” How did he know about me, when I’ve never said a thing?
Section 6
A part of me trembled when I heard Jeff say that he already knew, that I was gay. It’s only been an hour since we had our talk. I wonder what my friends and team-mates are thinking since, they saw me with Jeff. Their eyes seemed to burn into my soul as Jeff and I ate and talked, but none of them came up to me to cause trouble, so maybe this dread will pass. I wonder what evils the guys are forming inside their collective mind.
Will they make me pay for sitting away from the hive, the team? I believe, they will even if it it’s only to rub it in my face. I must admit that I feel anxious and it gets worse when, I’m in the hallway, because an ambush could easily be hidden amongst the doors and the crowd. I’ve only got two more hours to sweat before the bells will sound sending me home to rest my worries. Two more hours to spend waiting for my team to mess with me.
Finally, the bell has gone off. My feet move me quickly to my locker. As I grab the last bit of homework, I feel eyes peering over my shoulders. Slowly turning, there is the face that I’ve wanted to avoid since lunch. The guy from my team who bullied Jeff, Pete. He didn’t say a word, nor did he have a mean look about him. He stood there, gave me a note and then walked back into the crowd.
Section 7
Pete’s note was burning a hole in my pocket the entire way home. I am dying inside as I feel the rejection welling up inside of my mind. The car ride home is horrid, I want to read that note, but the road is not the place to face my fears. I’ll sweat the flames till I get home.
Running up the front porch, I enter the house and run from the front door up to my room. Reaching into the pocket of my jeans, I pull the note out into the air. The air seems to surge with energy as I unfold the note. My eyes scan over Pete’s hand written note:
Alex,
I saw you talking to the fag, but you don’t have to worry about me coming for you.
I’ve known for some time that you were gay. Alex, I know and I don’t care,
because you are my teammate, but more importantly,
you are my friend and always will be. Call me when you can.
I’m crying! Yeah, I’m crying because I’m happy. Happy because I’m not being rejected by a friend. For now, I’m saved.
My phone rings. At first, I resist picking it up. It rings again and this time, my hand cannot resist the mechanical ring. My mouth opens and the words escape.
“Hello, Alex here.”
“Queer!”
The other phone was forcibly hung up. The voice on the other end was anything but nice, and whoever it was knows me. It makes perfect sense that, I should know them, but yet my mind cannot put a name to that voice. I want to just hide, and yet I know I can’t. I want to face this life, that I’ve started and at the same time, I don’t want to face the hatred. Still, I cannot take back what I’ve said or my actions. I suppose I should call Pete.
Section 8
It all started with me eating alongside Jeff. Jeff found out that I was gay and so did Pete, a lifelong friend. I received my first verbal assault after Pete's note. As I sit here on the floor near the door and the mirror, my mind takes off lost in thought. I was so lost that I didn't hear my mom's call to dinner, so she sent my dad up to get my attention. A knock on the door, dad's knock, brought me back.
At dinner, I rehashed my day as mom and dad both listened intently. I couldn't bring myself to tell them about the rude phone call. I don't want my parents’ worrying for my safety. Parents shouldn't have to worry about their kids, though I know parents do. We, their kids, need to feel safe and secure in life. With dinner over, I returned to the confines of my room.
I closed the door and gazed at my reflection. There isn't an image of a fag or a queer looking back at me. The image is me, just me. I don't see those words in my appearance and I know they are just a small part of me. Those words don't define my life. They never will. Why do others insist on using words meant to define me and others to hurt us? Why do others insist on harming others?
The phone rings and immediately, I answer it. “Hello!” I say hoping it is a friend.
“Hey Alex, what's going on?” a friendly voice, just what I need to make the memory of the phone call fade.
“Not much Pete! Hey thanks for the note! It really meant a lot to me.” I said.
“I didn't want you to think, that I was a total jerk. Besides, I'm your friend and that isn't going to change.” Pete's voice didn't break once. I knew, he was being honest with me. Do I tell him about the other phone call or do I forget about it?
“I had my first taste of homophobia today.” I did my best to sound like it was really no big deal.
“What? What happened?” Pete's voice suddenly sounded angry.
“I finished reading your note and after I put it on my desk, the phone rang. I answered it, and the voice on the other end said ‘Queer!’ and then slammed down the phone.” I didn't want him to be worried about me.
“Look just be careful, there are some crazy people out there. Don't forget, that I got your back!” Pete has never once taken our friendship lightly. No one wants Pete coming down on them out of anger.
“You know me Pete, I can handle this problem.” Roughly translated, it means “I think, that I can handle this mess.” I don't believe for one minute that Pete bought my story, and I'm not sure that I bought it either.
“Well Alex, I need to get going. Have you started on your English paper?” Pete asked.
“Yeah last night! Night my friend!” With that, our conversation was over. All of the sudden, something about Pete hit me in the face.