Poached Pear 28, Peanut Butter 5: Reason
Title: Reason
Main Story: In the Heart
Flavors, Toppings, Extras: Poached pear 28 (more or less), peanut butter 5 (wood), cherry, malt (229: Speak the truth, even if your voice shakes.)
Word Count: 642
Rating: PG.
Summary: Gina tells Ivy why she's so afraid to come out to her parents.
Notes: If anything in this rings false to you, please tell me gently so I can explain my reasoning. Thank you.
ETA: lolol Smith is not a high school, self. THANK YOU KELLY. <3
I'm afraid, Gina says, and it's not for the reason you think, although I'm afraid of that too. I love my parents. I don't want to lose them. But I love you too, and I don't want to lose you, and you've never given me an ultimatum. You've never said 'do this or I won't love you anymore.'
And they haven't either, I guess, not really. But they will.
All my life I've been told that this is wrong. Well, not all my life. I didn't even know it was-- possible, I guess until I was eleven or twelve. I read some books and... you know how it is. Anyway, I asked my mother, and all she told me was 'That's disgusting, Gina. Never talk about that again.'
Yeah, I know. It was awful. I just... there were some people at school, and they weren't total outcasts, but they were pretty isolated. I didn't want that to be me. I didn't want to be the kid who got thrown out of her house. I didn't want to be the one who got stares and whispers.
It was easier at Smith, because there were so many more people like me. And then of course Olivia acted like it was nothing, when I came out to her-- that helped a lot. By the time I moved to the city I could be myself. But I still couldn't tell my parents.
I figured out not too long ago that it wasn't because I didn't want to be hated-- or not entirely, anyway. It was because I didn't want to be alone. I...
Okay. See, when I was really little, whenever I played house with the children in my neighborhood, I was the mommy. When we got older, I was the nurse or the teacher or... you know, the caretaker. The person who made sure everyone was happy and fed, who put bandaids on scraped knees and made crackers afterwards. And I liked it. You'd hate it, because you were always the kid in front, telling everyone what to do next--
Don't laugh, you totally were.
I'll ask Aaron if I have to.
Ha. Told you. Anyway, I liked it. I liked being the caretaker. I liked being the person everyone went to when they needed someone. And in some ways I still am, you know? I mean, I took care of Olivia all through college-- and she took care of me, yes, but I always felt older. Not responsible exactly, but protective.
Like I feel when we go out with everybody. I feel like I'm the one who smoothes things over and keeps people from fighting.
No, don't apologize. I told you, I like that. I like making people happy. It makes me feel needed, and appreciated.
All my life I've been taking care of my parents, in some ways. Nothing serious, nothing they made me do, but... little things. Listening to my mother complain when she's had a hard day. Making my father feel better when the world's been treating him badly. And I wonder...
They're not going to take this well. They may not ever speak to me again. And if they don't--
I'm not really worried for myself. It'll hurt like hell, it might destroy me for a while, but I have you, and I think as long as I have you I can get through anything, eventually. But what's going to happen to them?
Maybe it's narcissistic, to think I'm that central to their lives, even when I haven't lived at home in years. Maybe they'll be fine. Maybe I'm so wrapped up in needing to feel useful that I can't see that they don't need me anymore. Can't see the forest for the trees and all that.
But I'm afraid. I'm so afraid.
I'm so glad I have you.
Main Story: In the Heart
Flavors, Toppings, Extras: Poached pear 28 (more or less), peanut butter 5 (wood), cherry, malt (229: Speak the truth, even if your voice shakes.)
Word Count: 642
Rating: PG.
Summary: Gina tells Ivy why she's so afraid to come out to her parents.
Notes: If anything in this rings false to you, please tell me gently so I can explain my reasoning. Thank you.
ETA: lolol Smith is not a high school, self. THANK YOU KELLY. <3
I'm afraid, Gina says, and it's not for the reason you think, although I'm afraid of that too. I love my parents. I don't want to lose them. But I love you too, and I don't want to lose you, and you've never given me an ultimatum. You've never said 'do this or I won't love you anymore.'
And they haven't either, I guess, not really. But they will.
All my life I've been told that this is wrong. Well, not all my life. I didn't even know it was-- possible, I guess until I was eleven or twelve. I read some books and... you know how it is. Anyway, I asked my mother, and all she told me was 'That's disgusting, Gina. Never talk about that again.'
Yeah, I know. It was awful. I just... there were some people at school, and they weren't total outcasts, but they were pretty isolated. I didn't want that to be me. I didn't want to be the kid who got thrown out of her house. I didn't want to be the one who got stares and whispers.
It was easier at Smith, because there were so many more people like me. And then of course Olivia acted like it was nothing, when I came out to her-- that helped a lot. By the time I moved to the city I could be myself. But I still couldn't tell my parents.
I figured out not too long ago that it wasn't because I didn't want to be hated-- or not entirely, anyway. It was because I didn't want to be alone. I...
Okay. See, when I was really little, whenever I played house with the children in my neighborhood, I was the mommy. When we got older, I was the nurse or the teacher or... you know, the caretaker. The person who made sure everyone was happy and fed, who put bandaids on scraped knees and made crackers afterwards. And I liked it. You'd hate it, because you were always the kid in front, telling everyone what to do next--
Don't laugh, you totally were.
I'll ask Aaron if I have to.
Ha. Told you. Anyway, I liked it. I liked being the caretaker. I liked being the person everyone went to when they needed someone. And in some ways I still am, you know? I mean, I took care of Olivia all through college-- and she took care of me, yes, but I always felt older. Not responsible exactly, but protective.
Like I feel when we go out with everybody. I feel like I'm the one who smoothes things over and keeps people from fighting.
No, don't apologize. I told you, I like that. I like making people happy. It makes me feel needed, and appreciated.
All my life I've been taking care of my parents, in some ways. Nothing serious, nothing they made me do, but... little things. Listening to my mother complain when she's had a hard day. Making my father feel better when the world's been treating him badly. And I wonder...
They're not going to take this well. They may not ever speak to me again. And if they don't--
I'm not really worried for myself. It'll hurt like hell, it might destroy me for a while, but I have you, and I think as long as I have you I can get through anything, eventually. But what's going to happen to them?
Maybe it's narcissistic, to think I'm that central to their lives, even when I haven't lived at home in years. Maybe they'll be fine. Maybe I'm so wrapped up in needing to feel useful that I can't see that they don't need me anymore. Can't see the forest for the trees and all that.
But I'm afraid. I'm so afraid.
I'm so glad I have you.