These Ages Which Seperate Us

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Gay and Lesbian  |  House: Booksie Classic

Chapter 6 (v.1) - What to Do

Submitted: January 09, 2012

Reads: 93

Comments: 3

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Submitted: January 09, 2012

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I didn’t know what to do. I was confused, angry, upset, and practically anything else in that emotional category.

The drive home was harsh. Tess sat in the front seat, her shoes off and on the floor, hugging her knees to herself. I drove, silently, but so angry that I was trembling and I gripped the steering wheel so hard my knuckles were sore.

Someone…..some man had hurt my Tess. I wanted to scream. I wanted to scream and beat my head bulgingly into a brick wall, and curse my tongue off. But I wouldn’t. I had to keep my cool. After all, Tess was the one who had to go through this, not me. Although, I’d rather it was me so that I could be the one with the new emotional problems.

When we got home, Tess just sat in the front seat, crying. Quietly, without realizing what I was doing, I put her shoes on her, and walked her to the house. I gently sat her on the couch. I stroked her hair. “It’s alright, baby,” I cooed. “I’m here now. It’ll be alright. I’m not going to hurt you.”  

I decided that I’d get her a warm quilt and some hot coca. I made a whole pot of hot coca for her, and I had a glass of orange soda for me. I chose the warmest quilt in the house to cover her with.

I tried so hard to calm down her crying, but it just got worse. I sat next to her on the couch, cradling her against me for hours. Then finally, just after midnight, Tess began to slip away into her sleepy dreamland. I rested my chin in her hair, and allowed the sleep monster to take me over.

It seemed like we slept forever, like we’d never wake up. It was like I was thrown into a world of homophobes, people who pointed their fingers at me. I was in a dreamland that I did not recognize at all. The dream looked like my high school, and I was standing by my locker, talking to my only friend, Rachel. As we were talking, Belle Raleigh could be seen in the background.

Then, all of a sudden, Belle Raleigh drops her books and makes a horrifying scream. She then begins laughing so hard that her face turns red. I turn around.

There was my Tess, standing naked in the middle of the hallway. The next thing I knew, every teacher and student was in the hallway, pointing and laughing.

I awoke. I found myself still lying on the couch, my Tess still leaning on me. She was sleeping soundly on top of me, her face buried in my chest. The quilt covered us both. I felt every little breath she breathed. I had to tell myself over-and-over that it was just a dream.

Then, finally, around ten the next morning, Tess yawned, then lifted her head up. Her hair was matted, the sparkles in her eyes were gone, and she looked awful and yet, so beautiful at the same time.

“Morning, baby,” I whispered to her.

“Morning,” she said, softly.

It was funny; she acted off, as if nothing had happened at all. Of course, there was sadness to her. Her eyes weren’t as bright as they usually were, and in fact, I felt scared that they never would be bright again.

I just realized that it was Sunday, and Tess had work tomorrow. I decided to call her boss later that day. I didn’t really tell him what had happened, I only told him that she was sick and the doctor told her to get some rest. I also realized that Officer Johnson had given me a card with a therapists name on it.

After Tess was bedded down for another nap, I began to dig through my pockets for the card. I finally found it in the back pocket.

I stared at it, at the name.

It read: Dr. Abby Keaton, Pediatric Surgeon, Mental Health Specialist, and Registered Nurse.

I picked up the phone and sighed. Therapy was all I needed at this point.


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