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Collins sits on the couch, his elbows resting on his knees and his eyes locked on the phone. He hates phones. He hates them for many reasons; they charge you money for the basic act of talking to people, they always seem to ring especially loudly the morning after you've been out drinking, and of course they mean that no matter how far away you are- you can't escape your parents. You can't avoid telling them things just because they live 1204.89 miles away. Yes, he knows the exact distance from here to his childhood home. He reminds himself everyday that he is 1204.89 miles away from that place and all the memories that go with it. But that's what these goddamn phones are for, right? Being able to call someone miles and miles away and tell them whatever necessary. A birth, a new job, an engagement, or, say, that their son is HIV positive.
He sighs and stands up, walking over to the phone. Grabbing the receiver, he punches in the number he still remembers after all these years. Five to be exact. Five years, 4 months, 18 days since his eighteenth birthday.
Collins walks out of his bedroom and down the hall to the kitchen. He throws his duffel bag on the ground next to the hall closet, making as little noise as possible. He steps over to the kitchen area, leaning against the island his mom is stationed at. Monica Collins looks up, and upon noticing Collins, her gummy smile shines up at him, "Thomas! Happy birthday!" she comes up to his side, wrapping her pudgy arms around his waist.
"Thanks, Mom." He murmurs, wrapping an arm around her and squeezing briefly.
Before Collins can ramble off the speech he's had planned out for a good two months, a small, seven-year old girl bounces out from the backyard, braids bouncing right along with her. Upon spotting the now-adult in the kitchen, she launches herself at him, and he swoops her into his arms easily.
Monica steps away, chuckling, "Sanesha, wish your brother a happy birthday."
"Happy birthday, Tommy!" she squeals, squirming as Collins lightly runs his fingers over her stomach.
"Thanks, kiddo." Collins kisses her temple and places her back on the floor, "Can you let me and mommy talk for a minute?" Sanesha nods and dashes towards her playroom, braids clinking against her back.
"My baby boy, all grown up," Monica starts, tears already beginning to well in her chocolate eyes.
"Mom, I'm going to New York. I'm leaving now." He blurts.
"I was afraid you'd say that." Monica replies, turning away, "Is there something I can do, that I could have done, that will make you stay?"
"No, mom," he sighs, "you know it wasn't you. It was all dad, you know that and I know that. Okay? I'm leaving now, I'm going to say goodbye to you, and to Sanesha, and I'm going to go to the bus station and get on my bus and go to New York."
Monica nods, "I guess I can't stop you, can I?" she tries to laugh, and it comes out as more of a sob, "I just always thought you'd change your mind, and you would stay." There's an awkward silence as Collins sits, not quite sure what to say, then Monica breaks the silence, "Well, come on over here and give your mama a great big hug, then."
Collins smiles lightly and leans down to wrap his arms around his mother, her hands splayed out on his back and her tears staining the pocket on Collins' shirt. After a moment or two of a tight embrace, Collins pulls away and calls for Sanesha. The girl runs out, staring up at Collins, "What, Tommy?"
He crouches down to her level and seats her atop his knee, "Listen, kiddo, I'm not going to live in the house anymore, okay?" he says gently.
"But, if you don't live here, where are you gonna live?" Sanesha exclaims, genuinely puzzled.
"I'm gonna live in New York." Collins says, his voice sounding like it's describing a magical land, "and it's far, far away from here. But I'm gonna come see you sometime, okay? Can you give me a hug goodbye?"
Sanesha shakes her head, tears beginning to roll down her cheeks, "You can't leave, Tommy! You can't!" she shrieks, climbing off his knee and wrapping her slender arms around his calves, "You have to stay!" she wails, her chest beginning to heave. Collins looks to his mother pleadingly, and she pulls Sanesha up and plants her a good three feet away from Collins.
With a final kiss to the top of each of their heads, Collins picks up the duffel bag that had been hiding and walks towards the door. He turns his head to face his mother, looking her in the eye, "Tell dad I won't miss him." And he walks away from his mother's quiet protests and his sister's wails with empty promises to call and visit, and he never looks back.
He loves his mom, he really does. But they are two completely different people. He wasn't calling looking for comfort or to guilt his mom into visiting him, he was calling because as his mother, she had a right to know.
The last time that he had called home had been three months after he got to the city. He was dating a young man named Josh and aside from him, he had no friends in the city. So begrudgingly, he called his mom for relationship advice. Josh was only the second boyfriend he'd ever had, and his last relationship ended rather abruptly.
Collins walks out of the kitchen and into the living room, a large bowl of popcorn in hand. Sam is sprawled out on the couch watching Star Wars. He looks up, smiling. Collins' mom and little sister were out of town visiting his grandma, and his dad went out to the bar- this, of course, meant that he wouldn't be back until tomorrow. This presented the perfect opportunity for he and Sam to spend some time together. Setting the popcorn down on the coffee table, he sits down on the couch, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend. They don't need to say a word to each other to know that the other feels safe and content when they're in each other's arms like this.
By the time the movie's over, it's almost 2:30 in the morning. Normally, Collins would make Sam drive home now in case his dad got home early. But he was already asleep, and he looks so peaceful that there was no way Collins is going to wake him up. So he just leans in closer to Sam and closes his eyes.
Collins opens his eyes, a loud crashing noise woke him up. He looks over to see his father standing over the couch, grabbing Sam by the collar.
"Get out of my house you fucking fairy!" Mr. Collins pushes Sam off the couch and onto the floor.
Collins rushes over to make sure that he's okay. He sees that there's broken glass on the floor that looks like his mother's vase that used to sit- Oh… That must have been the crashing noise. Collins looks up to see his father coming towards them, he kicks Collins out of the way and pulls Sam up.
"I said, out!" Holding him by the back of the shirt he drags him to the door.
"Dad, stop." Collins says, he's too scared to yell. He runs to the door to see his dad practically throwing Sam out.
"You! You're the one who turned my son into a faggot!"
"Dad, he had nothing to-"
"Shut up!"
Collins didn't dare say another word, he knew that look in his father's eyes too well. Mr. Collins stepped outside, towering over Sam.
"I never want to see your little girlie-boy face again, got it? You've corrupted my family enough as it is. Probably gave my son AIDS, too, huh? Of course you did, that's what all you queers do."
"Mr. Collins, Tom and I never-"
"Don't lie to me you little fag. I hope it kills you." Mr. Collins turns around, slamming the door. He walked over to Collins and stood just inches away from his face. "If I ever see you with him again, I swear to God I will tear you limb from queer fucking limb." Mr. Collins turned around and stomped upstairs.
That was when he knew that he had to leave as soon as he could. He couldn't stay in a place where he had to suppress who he was and how he felt.
He's waiting as the phone rings and rings. Maybe she's not home? At least that would mean he could put off telling her a little longer.
There's a click and the sound of breathing can be heard over the receiver.
So much for putting it off. He takes a deep breath…
"Hello?"
…And just about chokes. Instead of hearing the warm, full, and slightly squeaky greeting of his mother, a deep voice comes out of the other end of the phone.
"Hello, dad."
"Thomas, is that you? Oh my Lord in Heaven, I can't believe you had the guts to call here, you faggot." Mr. Collins scoffs, "Monica! Monica, get a load of this! Thomas had the nerve to call here. What is it that you want? Money? You're dead to me, you don't get money."
Geez, Collins thinks, hello to you, too, dad. "No, dad," he sighs, hating that he still calls him 'dad', "I don't need money. Just let me talk to mom."
"Your mother is out." Mr. Collins replies quickly.
"You just called for her."
"Don't talk back to me, boy. As much as it pains me to admit it, I'm still your father, and you will still show respect for me."
"You gotta give respect to get respect." Collins smirks, pleased with himself for finally being able to stick up to his father.
"I told you not to talk to me like that. Now, what is it you wanna tell your Mama? I'll relay the message."
"I'd rather tell her."
"Aww, poor little fairy wants his mommy." Mr. Collins mocks.
Collins pushes himself off the couch, subconsciously beginning to pace "Yes, he does. Little fairy is dying, okay. Little fairy is dying and he wants to tell his mother about it. Okay? So, just, just put her on the goddamn phone."
Mr. Collins laughs, "You finally went and did it, didn't you? You went and got yourself AIDS, you idiot. I told you, didn't I? I told you it would get you killed." Collins can practically see the satisfied grin on his father's face.
"Yes, I did. You got your wish now, are you happy? Your son is dying, are you happy now?" Collins takes a deep breath, blinking a few stray tears back in the process, "Just…Just let me talk to mom."
"No, I don't think we need to bring her into this."
"No, I don't think we need to bring her into this." Mr. Collins shakes his head, "No, this is a father-son matter."
"Dad, first off, yes it is something she needs to be brought into, I'm her son, too. Second, just because you saw…what you saw doesn't mean I'm gay."
"But are you?" Mr. Collins smirks.
Collins crosses his arms over his chest, "I'm not answering anything until mom gets here." He smirks.
Giving in, Mr. Collins sighs and calls for his wife. After a few awkwardly silent moments, Mrs. Collins waddles into the living room, her stomach protruding in front of her, "What in Heaven's name are you two arguing about?" she scolds.
"I walked into his bedroom and your son over here was, well, let's say playing, with this" he waves a magazine featuring a very buff man in the air.
Monica looks from her son to her husband and back again, "Now, boys, let's just sit down and discuss this rationally." She says, obviously very frazzled. "Thomas, are you…are you gay?"
Collins stares at his shoes, "Yes." He mumbles, barely coherent.
"What was that?" his father screams.
"Yes!" he exclaims, "I'm gay! I, Tom Collins, am gay. Do you have a problem with that?"
Monica reaches out to put a hand on Collins' shoulder, but before she can reach, Mr. Collins slaps her hand away, "Yes! Yes, there's a big fucking problem with that. No son of mine is going to be a faggot."
"It's not something you can fix, dad." Collins says quietly, "I'm still your son."
"You see," he starts, shaking his head, "that's where you're wrong. You're no longer my son."
Collins turns on his heels and rushes up the stairs, the sounds of his parents fighting left in the distance. One day, he says to himself, one day he'll love me for me.
"Let me talk to mom." Collins spats.
"No. I'll tell her her son got AIDS. I'll tell her that your stupid choices killed you, don't you worry. I'll tell your sister, too. She's 12 now, you know, I'll tell her that the big brother she still looks up to killed himself. Goodbye." And with that, Mr. Collins slams the phone down.
Collins sits back on the couch, resuming his position of elbows resting on knees. That didn't go quite how he planned it.
He had wanted to talk to his mom one last time. He wanted to talk to Sanesha and marvel at how grown up she sounded. And, he supposed, somewhere in the back of his mind, he wanted his dad to forgive him.
But, then again, what did he expect? Of course he wouldn't understand, their worlds are 1204.89 miles apart.
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