Page 46 of Under the Texas Sky
16 years old
I throw my belongings into a cardboard box labeledmiscbecause there’s nothing of actual importance anywhere in my room. The only things I have are my clothes and a few books I found at garage sales that I don’t have in me to throw away yet. I’ve learned the hard way to always pack light and don’t hold onto anything. This will be our second move in the past four months, and I don’t have the energy anymore to beg and plead to stay. It won’t matter. It never does.
My dad’s reasoning is always the same: “There’s another church that needs our help, son, and we wouldn’t be doing God’s work if we didn’t help them.” And then my mom's: “Listen to your father.” It’s always,alwaysthe same shit, different town.
Another new highschool, another day of being the odd man out and trying to make friends with people that I’m only going to be leaving behind in a few months. And no matter how many times I tell myself not to get attached, I can’t help it. I love making friends and having someone to talk to, even if we can’t always talk abouteverything.It’s still nice to know that someone wants to talk to you.
“Sweetheart, are you almost ready?” My mom’s sickly sweet voice carries from the living room into my room. There isn’t a door, something that got taken off as soon as we moved in, soas much as I want to make a snarky comment, I can’t, because she’ll hear me. The last thing I need is for my dad to think I was disrespecting her, because my eye is still slightly swollen from the last time he didn’t like my tone.
“Yes ma’am, just a few more things.” Grabbing my clothes still on the hangers, I lay them across my bed and try not to cry. I really thought we would be here longer, but my dad came home on Friday and said by Monday we were leaving and going to Madison, Texas. It’s about a two hour drive, not close enough to visit the friends I’ve made here. I didn’t even get to tell them bye. They’ll think I just disappeared. Poof, nothing more than an illusion of a person.
My junior year just started, and it’s going to be hard to adjust at a new school. Half of me thinks it would be easier to be homeschooled, but the other half knows that would actually be the worst case scenario. My plans are to leave one day and completely cut contact with my mom and dad.
It sounds harsh, but it doesn’t make sense to me how a man can preach about loving thy neighbor, doing what God intends for us to do, and then come home and beat his son until he’s black and blue. The abuse, the drinking, the cheating on my mom, because everyone knows that’s why we had to leave the last town. Maybe he should learn not to stick his dick into the mayor’s wife, and then maybe people would actually want to listen to his sermons.
Leaving my clothes on the hanger, I fold them and rest them along the top of the box so it’s more convenient for me to carry to our car. Maybe when we get to Madison I can learn to drive. I'm sixteen now. I should know how to drive, but that’s just another way my dad exercises control over me and my mom.
I carry the box to the car, tucking it in between the boxes of my parents stuff. I keep my phone and my headphones stashed inmy pocket. I’ll have to ask permission to put them in while my dad drives, but maybe he’ll feel generous enough to let me today.
Going back inside, I do one last walk through my room, making sure I’ve got everything. There’s nothing in here. Nothing that shows I lived here, even for a moment.
One day, I’m going to buy a house and it will be filled to the brim with memories. Pictures of me and my husband, our family, maybe a dog. The possibilities are endless, and as we drive from one town to another, I know my life is going to change.
Two hours later, we’re parking in front of a small house. The red and white sign outside is claiming it'sFor Rent,but dad pulls it out of the ground as soon as he gets out.
“Welcome home,” he exclaims jubilantly. His face is red, and the sheen of sweat across his forehead is gross. He’s probably feeling the alcohol he was sipping from his tumbler while he was driving. It’s lucky we weren’t in a wreck, but he doesn’t care.
Mom claps, jumping up and down in over the top enjoyment, and I flash a fake smile. Faking excitement over starting over… again.
“Let’s get inside and get unpacked,” Dad says. “You have school tomorrow, Kian. I’ll be dropping you off, because I have things to get done at the church before next Sunday. But you’ll ride the bus from then on.”
I would rather ride the bus than be stuck in a car with him. That gives him more chances to find something wrong with me and to try to cleanse me of it. I’m dreading the day, if it ever happens, that he finds out I’m gay. That’s a death sentence waiting to happen.
“Sounds great, Sir, thank you.” I nod, following behind him and my mom as he shows us the house.
A small, two bedroom, two bath house with popcorn ceilings. The paint is starting to peel off the walls in some places. But the knowledge that I’ll have my own bathroom puts a little pep in my step, because I’ve always had to share a bathroom with them. Normally, we run out of hot water before it’s my time to shower, but I won’t have to worry about that as much now. Madison is already looking up for me.
A new school, another chance to be different. To be someone who isn’t scared and can speak their mind without fear of how someone else is going to react.
Junior year is going to be my year.
CHAPTER 41
TRENT
“Thanks for the ride, Trent,” Hunter says when I pull into his driveway. I cut the engine to the truck and get out to help him with his bags. The flight home wasn’t too bad, because Hunter put in his headphones as soon as we boarded. The drive from the airport was awful. I would rather pull my teeth out with a pair of pliers and no pain medicine than have to go through that again.
“Of course. I didn’t mind,” I tell him. And I didn’t. Because after Hunter spent the whole morning consoling me, I realized that the least I can do for him is help him make it home.
“I would ask if you want to come in…” He trails off.
“But it would be awkward. It's okay, Hunter. Really.” I place his suitcase on the ground, offering him the handle.
“Thanks.”
“You don’t have to keep thanking me. Just because it didn’t work out with us, that doesn’t mean I don’t still care about you.” That's the truth. Some part of me will always care for Hunter. But I’m seeing now that we were always meant to cross paths, even if we didn’t end up together.
“Yeah, I know. Maybe one day we can be friends.” He extends his hand out to me. I grasp it, feeling the smooth skin of his dainty hands. The same hands I’ve held countless times, the same hands that have cooked me dinner, and the same hands that have massaged my sore muscles after a long day. This is thelast time I’ll be holding these hands in my own and my heart thumps pitifully in my chest.
