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When I was seventeen, my parents threw me out of the house; turns out, they weren't too fond of the idea that I was dating a girl. It hurt at first, I mean, think about it, the two people who are supposed to love you unconditionally, no matter what, turn their backs on you, it's harsh, but it's a reality I had to deal with.
There was no time for heartfelt fights. No time to say what I really wanted to say. No time to tell them that they were hurting me. No time to hurt.
'Get out.'
When my dad spoke those faithful two words, it was the only thing still running through my mind as I went and grabbed the bare minimum. Truth be told, I was fine with it, if my own parents were going to turn their backs on me, then who was I to try and fight for their love. Then again, they didn't love me. I was a requirement. I was their one way to pass high school, except this was society, and after marriage came babies. That's what I was. A requirement.
I didn't need them, I didn't need anyone who didn't want me. And so with those thoughts in mind, that last day 'home,' although, I can't even really call it that; was filled with a pain I wouldn't acknowledge.
I couldn't, if I let myself feel, then I was going to break down, and well, that would be showing weakness, the one thing I had learned from my dad; 'never let anyone see you weak.' It was the one lesson I'd taken to heart; and from that day on, no one would ever see me weak.
As I stepped out of the house I made a decision. I made my way over to my Jeep, threw my bag in the back and got in. I looked up and saw the house I grew up in for what I decided would be the last time. I turned on the ignition and drove out of the lot and onto the road.
It's not like I had all that many places to go, I didn't exactly have a plethora of friends who would take me in, let alone their parents wouldn't take me in no questions asked.
As big as this city was, this was still a mostly close knit circle of absentee business fathers and stay at home mums who really, only 'stayed' at home to get it on with the gardener while daddy was off with his secretary.
Lovely place to grow up right? Our parents, friends and the media told us all stories of happily ever afters, blissful endings and all of that crap. When really, no one here could ever even understand the concept of happiness. No one gave enough of a damn to try being happy themselves.
Everyone who lived around me was walled up in settlement, and I would not be one of them. I'd made myself that promise ever since the first time I came home, sick from elementary school, and walked by my mum's room seeing her in the throes of adultery with a man that was not my father.
I didn't understand at first, it was weird and let's face it, as a six year old, you don't exactly know what was going on, and all you know is that it's wrong. Your mum isn't supposed to be with anyone but your dad.
Six years old, that's when I saw for the first time what this hell hole was all about. You think that that would be enough to traumatize a kid, truthfully, when you grow up where I did, it's not that shocking. All I did was go over to my neighbour's house, she was the only nice old lady around, shame she died a few years ago...
I went to her house, she was the one who'd come to pick me up at school since mum had been too busy riding the yard man to answer the phone when they called. I told her my mum wasn't home and I wanted to see my dad. At that point in time, he was still my hero, let's face it, especially after what I'd just seen, my mother wasn't getting her title back.
So lovely old Miss Salvia helped me get in the backseat of her car and drove to my father's office. She told me she'd wait out for me. I walked up to the big glass doors and when the doorman saw and recognized me he gave me a bright smile as he opened the door for me.
I thanked him politely, just like my parents had taught me, though I wondered if that still applied when my mum was acting completely different than what Jesus would want. Oh yea, that's right, on top of it all, they tried to force religion on me... fucking hypocrites, never understood that.
None the less, Mr. Jones had never done anything to me, so I thanked him, it was the nice thing to do; and I did still believed in kindness. I walked to the elevator and went up to my father's floor. When I got to his secretary's office door, I noticed it was open and Sheila wasn't in.
I knocked, but no one answered so I just went in, my hero would surely have understood once he saw how sick I felt. My mistake. Turns out Sheila was in, and so was my dad... the image of him pressed up behind his secretary as she gripped the edge of the desk she was leaned over, my father moving behind her was something I never needed to see.
Especially not that day. In one day, I'd learned more about Biology than I ever would in my sex Ed classes in high school. I could have made a scene, but even at the young age of six, I knew from that point on, my mum and dad were gone.
The only thing left in their wake was their soulless forms walking around the house, preaching to me the words of a God I no longer really believed in, and reading to me the words that would melt so many youngins hearts.
Growing up, after that day, whenever my dad would read me a bedtime story, one involving this magical tale of true love and princes; the only thing running through my mind was that the prince was off with someone else while the princess was busy with the court jester.
The only reason he went after her was because it was what was expected of him. Living a life he wanted nothing to do with. Living a life like my parents were, made to be together as was expected when really, neither wanted to be there.
Seriously though, what on earth was going through their minds? I could tell too, as they spoke or read to me, it was as if they were disgusted with themselves, knowing that deep down, this was all bullshit. But they were my parents, they couldn't very well tell their daughter that the world was a big and ugly place.
Of course, I'd have loved to hear them say; "you know what Alex, this is ridiculous. Life is not happy, life is miserable and filled with hate, pain and greed. Humans don't strive to be happy, they strive to come out on top. And if their confined to something that they don't want, they go out, and try find something that'll make them feel better about themselves. Because truth be told, they can barely live with themselves, because they aren't happy. Because happiness is something that's not within reach."
That, as depressing as it sounds, would have made a world of difference. I'd have listened to that. I'd have appreciated that. Might have actually meant the 'thank yous' and 'I love yous' that came after that day.
When Miss Salvia drove me home, I could tell she knew something was wrong, but being the amazing woman she was, she knew I would come and talk to her when I was ready. I always went to her; she was my bright light in this world of darkness.
I loved that old woman more than I ever loved my parents, and she knew that. She knew my family was fucked up in its own wonderful way. And she was okay with me seeking refuge at her house; she never had a problem with it.
She was actually the first person I ever told, the first person who knew I was attracted to both genders. And she was the first person ever, the only person really, who smiled brightly and said; 'good for you dear, whatever makes you happy is what's right. Ignore any bastard who dares to tell you otherwise.'
God I miss her, she was amazing, never holding back on telling it how it was, and she swore in front of me, only adult who didn't treat me like I was going to bend and break. Who didn't treat me as a kid.
First time I ever heard her I was shocked but she looked at me and said; 'once you've lived as long as I have, you've earned the right to talk how you want, in front of who you want. If they don't like it, they can go to hell.'
When I was fourteen and she passed away, I was the only one who went to her service. My parents had never understood why I loved the neighbour, but they didn't care enough to question it. I was the only one in church while the Father spoke words of farewell. It made me laugh, the woman in the coffin was not a religious woman.
I knew she was laughing from up top, watching this whole thing go down with tears down her eyes. I still didn't believe in God, but I'd learned from Miss Salvia that you got to respect people's choices. It doesn't matter if they don't make sense to you, if it's not hurting you, then what's the harm in them having a little faith in something?
We all need a little faith sometimes.
I respected religion and the choices people made, and I didn't know if I believed in a heaven or hell, all I knew was that this lovely old woman, the one who'd taught me everything I'd learn to love and appreciate and be thankful for, was at least up top sitting on a cloud next to Mary Poppins.
I didn't even realize I'd stopped in front of her old house. It was such a habit of mine as a kid and I found myself often just stopping and starring for unknown amounts of time. Simply remembering all of the simple things, the little things she did, that meant everything to me.
I smiled sadly before setting off trying to find somewhere to go for the night. I wished more than ever that she was still alive that day, she'd have taken me in, and she'd have helped me be okay. No, I was okay. I couldn't not be okay. That would mean weakness. I wasn't weak.
I drove to the cemetery, decided that visiting her would maybe shed some light as to where to go.
I didn't even realize how long I'd been there until I felt the phone in my pocket vibrate. I let it go, I didn't want to answer or deal with anything else at that time. I was still trying to figure out my next move as I sat on the grass next to the tombstone, leaning against it as I often had done against her shoulder.
The phone stopped but started up again, I didn't want to deal with it, but I decided I might as well since whoever it was clearly wasn't giving up.
I felt a pang of guilt when I realized it was my girlfriend on the other line. The conversation was short, she was trying to be sweet, and I pretty much could care less. I knew she could tell though, that's why she offered I go over to her place.
I almost physically face palmed myself. I had completely forgotten about her and the fact she had her own place. I told her I'd be over in a few hours. The conversation ended with her telling me she loved me. I knew she was waiting to hear me say it back... but I couldn't. Those three words were not words I parted with easily.
My parents had heard it from me growing up, not because I wanted to, but because if I didn't it would cause too much fuss, what they got from me were empty words of love. Much like the empty lives they were so used to living. That's probably why they never even realized just how little I cared.
The only person since I was six who truthfully, meaningfully heard those three words from me: "I love you," I whispered to the tombstone. With that I left the cemetery and went over to my girlfriend's, hoping she wouldn't ask me eight thousand questions.
We met last year in high school, her parents moved here from some other town, we clicked from the start, mainly, and she clicked with me. I told her from the start, I was never going to be a hypocrite like my parents, I told her that whatever happened between us, she couldn't expect more than what I'd give. It had nothing to do with her, but I wouldn't be able to give more than what I was offering.
She was okay with it, at least, she was at the time. It wasn't much, I knew that, she knew that, but she knew that with the little I was giving, she'd never have to worry. It had taken her a while to trust me, which I understood.
If someone comes up to you and say's I can only give you ten percent of me, you get weary, you start thinking they can only give you that much because they're emotionally unavailable on some extreme level. Either that, or they're just players screwing everything that moves.
Over time, she understood I wasn't going to cheat on her, that the only reason I had told her what I had, was because I wanted to be honest. She learned to appreciate that, she often told me it was a nice change to see someone say what they meant.
She didn't know why I would only give a part of myself, but she knew once I was committed, that was it, I would not stray. And after hearing of her past with her ex-girlfriends, I think that's why she stayed in this as long as she had.
Then again, I think deep down she thought over time I would change. I wouldn't though. I wasn't going to become another mindless statistic. Usually, where I'm from, if the girls have half a brain, they don't want to become a statistic in regards to; being pregnant, dropping out getting raped... anything like that.
I just didn't want to become one of them. That was my fear.
We'd been together for over a year, her feelings for me had grown and become more than what it was at first. I knew it bothered her that I was just like I was a year before. I liked her, enough, but that was it. No loving, no feelings, nothing more than two people together.
I know what you're thinking; first off why be with anyone. Second, aren't you becoming like your parents and just settling because it's what's expected?
Ha, how wrong you are, see here's the difference, technically speaking, yea, it was settling, but it was settling without the intent of fucking the next person I saw just because I was unhappy. Because I wasn't unhappy.
Shocker right? I was actually quite content with where we were, which is why I was with someone. Because as much as I didn't want to settle, or be with someone who made me unhappy. Or just be with someone for the sake of it, I knew I couldn't be alone.
That was my downfall. I didn't need anyone, but I was unable to be alone. That's why, until I was fourteen I was always with Miss Salvia. We had a wonderful relationship her and I, and I don't mean anything disturbing.
I mean, any connection you have with someone is a relationship, in some way, and that's what we had. We were great and got along wonderfully. I'd never met anyone with whom I could be myself apart from her.
All the kids at school bothered me, they were all like their parents, aiming for nothing but superficiality. I wanted depth, I wanted more out of life. So I strayed from the other children and found that in my neighbour.
She taught me everything she knew and had learned during her life, she had no children of her own, had never married, had no siblings, her parents had died when she was just an adult, I was all she had, and in way, she was all I had. All that was real anyways.
But when she passed, I closed off, what was I going to do? Befriend the first bimbo who walked up to me offering me a flyer for the next big party? Hell no.
I was no hypocrite.
But when Jodie came to town, I could tell there was something different about her. Behind her greater than thou attitude was someone who could actually hold up a conversation. Someone with whom I could genuinely have a good time, and after two years without Miss Salvia, it was nice.
That's why I'd stayed with her, I was happy, enough. I wasn't over the top, rainbows and kittens happy, but I was a hell of a lot happier than sitting at home blasting my music so I couldn't hear the new gardener taking my mother up against the bedroom wall.
When I got to Jodie's, I was thankful that her parents were away, they were nice enough people, and surprisingly enough, they weren't full of shit. But, that also meant they didn't understand where I was coming from.
Just like everyone else, it seemed my household was a nice and wonderful place. You got to love fake smiles and botox.
I didn't generally open up a great deal with people. I just found it easier, opening up about one thing meant you had to open up about something to explain it and so on so forth, it was a horrible train wreck and I just didn't care enough to bother.
I did tell Jodie my folks had kicked me out though, she was exactly like I was expecting her to be, and she was trying to console me, trying to be there for me. What she didn't seem to realize though, was that I didn't need that. I was fine.
Really, I was.
She seemed more broken up over it than I was, maybe it had to do with the fact that she thought we were this picture perfect family. Maybe she thought that's what would happen if her parents found out. I don't know what it was, but she was crying. I didn't like girl's who cried. So I tried, awkwardly might I add, to comfort her.
She ended up falling asleep after a few hours. I couldn't sleep though, so when I was sure she was out for the night, I grabbed her computer and started to do some research. I think during those last few hours, I figured out what I needed to do.
So I started looking up what had to be done if I wanted to 'divorce' my parents. I thought of it like that, because no one else would ever even consider the idea of divorce, that's what made it so much more appealing.
Once I found the forms online, I printed them out and filled them out. I wasn't going to step foot near that residence again, so I went ahead and looked up to see if I could find a lawyer that I could go see the next day.
Thankfully there was someone close by who was going to be able to help. That's what I spent the next day doing, seeing a lawyer, who seemed more than happy to help me and believed there would be no issue proving my case.
I sent my parents the forms, and a few days later, they were mailed back to me, signed and ready to go. It's hard to believe, but it barely surprised me. I knew they didn't care, but in that final moment, were we were legally going our separate ways, it felt the last slight pang of hurt. Didn't hurt more than that, how could it? We'd been emotionally divorced since I was six.
Once the judge heard my story, he was a very understanding old man... and also an old friend of Miss Salvia's, so he knew of me, he declared me an emancipated minor. I had proved I was better off alone and had been able to prove I had enough money to support myself.
After all, I had been working summer jobs since I was fifteen, and had been working even more after I turned sixteen.
It came as a shock to Jodie though... she didn't know what I had been doing, she wasn't exactly pleased. I think she was mainly angry because I hadn't talked to her about it, she threw a fit. Granted, I guess I deserved it.
She ended it and threw me out.
That hurt.
That hurt me more than my parents throwing me out. Because I knew she loved me. I guess it's hard to love someone who can never fully love you back.
I was loved by no one.
I spent that night and next two weeks in my car. Mainly, I tried to figure out my next move. I wouldn't stay there. Not anymore. I took a drive that night, I drove aimlessly until I found a remote bar a few miles away from my home town.
I went in, the owner saw me and was about to turn me around thinking I wanted alcohol. But then he really saw me, and he waved me over. He asked me what was wrong, and I told him I needed to find a job.
Because I was underage, he couldn't let me work the bar, but he told me if I was willing, he'd pay to clean, the place. I took a look around, it was a small enough bar, but I could see what he meant. I took the job.
He asked if I had a place to stay and I told him my car had been good to me, he didn't laugh along with me. He said he lived upstairs, but there was a small room in the back of the bar that he didn't use much, an office really. He asked if I minded and I said I'd take whatever.
He was a good man, people like him gave me hope. Hope that humanity wasn't over. I worked for him until I was eighteen. He made me get my GED in the meantime. I had to admit, there were times where I was thinking he was being too nice and I should be worried... turns out, he had lost his wife and son a few years back.
The two were driving home from an appointment when an asshole ran a red light. His son was killed instantly and his wife, who had barely survived, had been so consumed by guilt that she slit her wrists. He had tried so hard to stop and help her, but she was convinced it was her fault their son was gone... and she couldn't forgive herself.
He gave me a new appreciation on life, here was this man, who had lost everything, but who had kept on going. He was a fighter, and he told me he saw that in me, and he would help me the way he would have wanted someone to help him when he lost everything.
He became the father I never had, much like Miss Salvia had become the mother I never had. These surrogate parents of mine, they had shaped me, they had influenced me in a way I thought would never exist.
I wanted to give back to the world like they had given back to me. That's why, when I was eighteen, I walked up to Jeff and I told him I was leaving. I think he was sad, he didn't want to see me go, but when I told him what I was going to do, he couldn't have been happier.
He said; 'whatever makes you happy kid, everyone else can just go to hell.'
Miss Salvia would have loved him, they'd have been good friends.
That's why I'm here now, at the airport after Jeff dropped me off. It was funny, seeing him get all teary and sad, yet happy I was finding my own way. I'll always remember what he told me when he hugged me one last time.
"You are the daughter I never had, and you have made me prouder than I ever thought, that scrawny, seventeen year old, who walked in the bar in the middle of the night, could ever make me."
I told him he was the father I never had and he let a tear fall. I knew how much it meant to him, I meant as much to him, as he to I. That's why I told him I'd come back and say hi, even though he made me promise to write as much as I could.
"Flight 715 to Casablanca, now boarding gate 8."
We both knew how dangerous this was going to be, but it was the one thing that had come to mind. It was the one thing I had always wanted to do. I was ready, my heart was set in stone and I was ready for all the hard ships I was about to face.
After all, I was loved. And this was the one place Miss Salvia had always said she wished she'd visit. I looked up through the window as I walked to the lady who was checking our passes. I smiled up at the clouds.