Chapter 3: The Untold Story
"Mi niño!" She wailed to the ice eyes staring down at her.
"Lourdes, please-"
"No, Walter. Quiero mi hijo!" she cried again, in vain.
"We did what we had to do. He can't live here. No son of mine will be gay."
"I love him," she whispered meekly, as Walter held her close.
"I know, I know. We both do, but we did what was right. Jesus, we were practically asking for him to be gay, naming him after your faggot brother. Why couldn't we have named him something normal? I wanted Stanley, but you wouldn't have it any other way."
"NEVER speak about Angel that way. You don't know him as well as I did. I just wish our Angel knew what happened to my brother," Lourdes sighed, as she glanced back down at the golden cross in her hand, her knuckles turning white from holding it so tightly.
"He was gay. He got the gay disease. I can't live with my son if he's going to suffer that same fate. What we did was in his best interest," Walter stated, firmly.
"You know perfectly well that it wasn't just a gay disease. It's AIDS. He died from AIDS, not from being gay. Why can't you just accept our son? You couldn't deal with my brother, but at least face your own son. He's your own flesh and blood, Walter. He's half of you," she yelled, then quieted, "He's half of you," she repeated.
"I don't care if he's half of me, no son of mine will be a faggot! It's just a choice he made, and he has to live with it."
"It's no choice! It's the way he was born he-"
"I never gave birth to a faggot," Walter boomed.
"Callate Walter! Don't talk that way! He's the same boy I gave birth to, he just loves differently," she pleaded desperately.
"I can't accept him this way, I'm sorry, honey," he replied, without the least bit of resentment in his voice.
"Then I can't accept you," she whispered, as she quietly walked down the hall to pack her belongings. She threw her golden cross at his feet.
That night, she got a one way bus ticket to the Bronx to stay with her friend.
"Mi niño!" She wailed to the ice eyes staring down at her.
"Lourdes, please-"
"No, Walter. Quiero mi hijo!" she cried again, in vain.
"We did what we had to do. He can't live here. No son of mine will be gay."
"I love him," she whispered meekly, as Walter held her close.
"I know, I know. We both do, but we did what was right. Jesus, we were practically asking for him to be gay, naming him after your faggot brother. Why couldn't we have named him something normal? I wanted Stanley, but you wouldn't have it any other way."
"NEVER speak about Angel that way. You don't know him as well as I did. I just wish our Angel knew what happened to my brother," Lourdes sighed, as she glanced back down at the golden cross in her hand, her knuckles turning white from holding it so tightly.
"He was gay. He got the gay disease. I can't live with my son if he's going to suffer that same fate. What we did was in his best interest," Walter stated, firmly.
"You know perfectly well that it wasn't just a gay disease. It's AIDS. He died from AIDS, not from being gay. Why can't you just accept our son? You couldn't deal with my brother, but at least face your own son. He's your own flesh and blood, Walter. He's half of you," she yelled, then quieted, "He's half of you," she repeated.
"I don't care if he's half of me, no son of mine will be a faggot! It's just a choice he made, and he has to live with it."
"It's no choice! It's the way he was born he-"
"I never gave birth to a faggot," Walter boomed.
"Callate Walter! Don't talk that way! He's the same boy I gave birth to, he just loves differently," she pleaded desperately.
"I can't accept him this way, I'm sorry, honey," he replied, without the least bit of resentment in his voice.
"Then I can't accept you," she whispered, as she quietly walked down the hall to pack her belongings. She threw her golden cross at his feet.
That night, she got a one way bus ticket to the Bronx to stay with her friend.