Chapter 20
Dave stumbled into the house loudly. He stood at the front door trying to take off his sneakers but not quite getting them. He had never been this wasted in his life. His whole body felt heavier than it had ever been, but his head felt like it had disappeared. Just standing on his feet seemed difficult, yet still he could hear the words that Kurt had said to him clearly in his mind. His thoughts wouldn't leave his head. His shoulder bumped the wall and he laughed, he didn't know why.
"David is that you?" He heard his father yell out. He heard heavy footsteps on the floor, and his father appeared before his eyes. Dave cursed under his breath, trying to figure out the date. "Where were you? We always eat dinner together on Thursday nights; you think I have all the time in the world to...David...what's wrong with you?" Dave stumbled forward, falling to the floor. He pulled off both his shoes, but couldn't get up, he looked up at his dad, his eyes blurred, but he could see the concern and anger on his face.
Ever since his mom died when he was eight his dad had been too busy to have a real dinner with him, preferring to eat fast food, or easily made meals in his office so he could focus on work, but once a week (on a Thursday) he would take time out of his precious schedule to eat with him, see how he was doing (or more accurately see how he was doing in school) and talk to him. 'I could slap myself' Dave thought, it was the only day of the week his father gave a shit, and here he was plastered.
His dad reached his hand out to help Dave up, and walked him over to the dining room table. The room was unnaturally clean from rare use. His dad sat him down in a chair, the chair creaking loudly. Dave laid his head on the back on the chair, his eyes flickered open and shut. His dad sat down across from him.
"Where were you David?" His dad asked calmly but firmly. He folded his hands in front of him, staring at David without blinking.
"Out" Dave said, then giggled. He could feel his eye lids burning.
"When did you start drinking?"
"What makes you think I've been drinking?" Dave giggled again.
"I'm not stupid David; I've been drunk in my time. You smell like you've been bathing in liquor, you're completely intoxicated. Now I'll ask you again, how long?"
"I, uh...I don't know." Dave's head was hurting, he felt so tired, he just wanted to go to bed.
"I went into your backpack to see how you've been doing in school, as you obviously weren't here to tell me yourself. You're doing better, A's but what is this B in Spanish, maybe it's this alcohol, maybe that's why you aren't doing as well as you should be doing in Spanish. Do you think a University isn't going to take this into consideration when they look at you for a scholarship, if they look at you for a scholarship at all?
"Can we not talk about this now?" Dave asked, his head losing the lightness.
"I don't have all the time in the world David. I have a job, a job that will have to pay for your University when you don't get a scholarship. You've been slacking; even your Uncle Jake thinks so. He said you've been mouthing off. He said you've been lazing about. He told me you haven't been working out like you used to, how are you supposed to get better like that? Hmm...? You think you can just skate through life David? Are you listening to me? It's your own fault if you feel bad right now. I don't know what the heck your doing David. I just don't understand. This all started with that homosexual kid."
Dave shook his head. "No, no...it..."
"Yes it did David. I mean, let's face it, you've never been a perfect student, and you've never been an amazing football player, but you were always consistent. I've never had this kind of trouble with you. Then all of a sudden this homosexual kid pops up, and you begin acting like a hooligan." Dave snorted, thinking about all the years he slushied Glee kids, picked on kids, threw kids in trash cans and in lockers. "This is no laughing matter David. I am quite frankly tired of this. I don't have time to deal with your foolishness. The homosexual kid is gone, forget about him. That is his father's issue, not yours."
"What if I was gay?" Dave held his breath for the response.
"Don't be silly David; we are having a serious discussion."
"No really, what if I was gay?"
"You're not gay, you would never be gay, this is a moot point. You may not have a girlfriend, but that's only because you haven't matured physically yet."
"What if I was?"
Paul Karofsky leaned across the table to his son. His face was serious, his hazel eyes staring into Dave's. "No son of mine is gay; no son of mine would ever be gay. There is no point in discussing something that could never be." Dave looked his father in the eye, his heart feeling like it was being slowly ripped from his chest. "You listen to me David, you better start acting like an adult, I don't want to have to chase after you again. Stop this drinking, stop this messing around, get your grades up, get a girlfriend, and start practicing football more. I can't be looking after you every second of the day, do you understand me?"
Dave nodded though he didn't, and with that his father left him, stranded at the table. Dave felt a pit in his stomach, and a feeling he never felt before. He walked to the kitchen and grabbed a bunch of aspirins for his headache, put them in his pocket, and grabbed a glass. He struggled up the stairs to the bathroom, and looked at himself in the mirror.
"I'm gay." He said to himself, the words tasting like vinegar as they left his mouth. His whole body began to shake, and he felt a pain in his stomach. Thoughts circled his mind, he saw his Uncle's face twisted in rage and fists ready to strike, he saw his dad's disappointed face, he saw his friends disgusted sneers, the glee kids faces twisted in laugher, and the look on Kurt's face, of joy in his pain. He thought about all the insecurities he had, about his looks, his skills, his smarts. He looked at himself and everything he hated seemed to be ten times worse. His head felt so foggy from the beer, yet he could clearly hear the words "Chubby little boys who sweat too much, and will be bald by the time they're thirty" he thought of Kurt, his lean little body, his cute smile, his hair that always seemed to have that perfect flip. His heart felt as though it was being stabbed as he thought of the attractive dark haired, perfect bodied boy that had Kurt's heart now. He stood no chance against that, not an ignorant ham hock like himself. Not a stupid guy like himself, who couldn't sing, not like Kurt could.
Dave now realised this, that he wanted Kurt. That he liked Kurt. He was like Kurt. "I'm gay" he said again, but he couldn't be. He couldn't be gay. There was no room to be gay, he had to be straight. He couldn't be who he was, and gay. It wasn't like being Kurt who was perfect, and talented, and handsome, Dave thought to himself.
All Dave wanted to be was perfect, and now there was no way he could be. He was gay and he knew it. There was no hiding it anymore. He couldn't hide it anymore, it was like someone was ripping, and tearing, and stabbing, and burning his heart. His brain felt as though it was going to explode. His whole body felt as though he had been training for four days straight. His eyes, making everything so distorted, only made his own reflection look more twisted and disgusting. He hated himself, every inch, every thought. He hated being gay. He hated being himself. He knew no amount of drinking was going to change that, this night proved it. He couldn't get away from himself, no matter how hard he tried. He picked up a bottle of shampoo and whipped it at the mirror, the glass shattering and falling into the skink, onto the floor, and into the skin of his arm. He heard a noise downstairs that sounded like his dad moving but he didn't care.
He turned on the tap and let water fill the glass he had brought upstairs, he was glad he hadn't thrown that. He took out the aspirins and popped all of them in his mouth; he took a long swig of water and allowed himself to slip onto the remaining glass free part of the floor. He could feel a veil of blackness slowly fill up this brain, and his eyes. The last thing he could hear before he passed out was the sound of his dad's feet on the stairs, and a voice inside his head saying 'you still won't get away'.