Rain Chapter 2
There was always tension between you and dad, even though you didn’t know there was.
Every time you did something new, Mom would get over excited and Dad would play along. He was never okay with you being different.
“I don’t see why you’re Mom’s favorite… Dad loves me more cuz I’m normal. Mom should too.”
I vaguely remember mom and dad arguing about taking you to the doctor. This kept on from the time you were six, to the time you were eleven. After the last argument, dad gave up. He decided that if you weren’t going to get any better, he wouldn’t let anyone see you.
“I’m going to the park, Gee. Mom’s gonna be back soon. Will you be okay?”
You looked at me with sad eyes. Of course you wouldn’t be okay.
“Sorry, you can’t go. Dad’s rule.”
Mom doesn’t know and Dad thinks I don’t know that there’s only pictures of her and me in his wallet. When I was younger I was proud of the fact that I was his favorite, though I still wanted to be Mom’s. As I got older and learned that I shouldn’t treat you different, I snuck folded up pictures of you into his wallet. They were never there the next day.
“I’m sorry.” I held onto you. You don’t know what happened though. “I tried.”
I always knew that dad was more proud of me with my firsts in life. He wouldn’t say anything, but I could see in his eyes how much joy he was holding back for having a “normal” son. His expressions towards you, though, were different. It was more of a “about time” look.
“Rain.”
“That’s getting old, real quick. It’s not cute now, and it never was.”
Mom told me that he didn’t want me at first because he thought I would turn out like you. He almost left Mom, but I guess he felt too guilty about leaving you. He must really love you at least a little. I, personally, think it may have been better if he left.
You reached for my face.
“Don’t. They’re my glasses, and I need them to see. Be glad you’re not wearing that or Dad would love you even less.
It was apparent I would need glasses at age nine. Dad wasn’t too happy about it because they supposedly made me less normal. Since I didn’t look like other boys, he made me work extra hard to act like them. While you stayed home with Mom, Dad and I went to baseball or empty fields where you would teach me about football, baseball, and soccer. I always came home crying. I hated it, but I kept doing it because deep down I wanted him to love me more.
“I wish I was like you. I don’t like going out there. But I’m not allowed to cry. Boys don’t cry.”
You held my hand.
I got my first boyfriend when I was thirteen. I came out later that year. Mom, being the great person she was, nodded and gave me her support. Dad didn’t talk to me for weeks. I cried a lot then, but I didn’t want you or mom to see. You knew anyway, at least I think you did. That’s when you first started sleeping in my bed with me every so often. You would hug me and fall asleep that way. The proud look in Dad’s eyes when he looked at me, faded away. I wasn’t his favorite anymore. Neither of us were.
“I don’t see why it’s wrong. I like him, and he likes me. Dad’s never really happy, is he?”
I looked at you. You had been asleep for the past five minutes.
After I came out, I started talking to you a lot more. Even if you didn’t really understand. I wasn’t hesitant about crying in front of you anymore because you would just wipe away my tears like Mom would do to you. I thought you were starting to understand up to the point where I swear you talked to me. But it was probably just you mimicking, like you’ve done your whole life.
Another time I thought you really understand what was going on was when Dad left. I was almost seventeen and you were still nineteen. Mom really didn’t see it coming. She could do nothing more, but watch him leave us forever. I was pretty much the same way until that night when I cried into your arms which I’m wasn’t ashamed to do anymore. Mom tried her best to be strong for both of us. But I have the feeling that it was only me who really needed her. Just the morning after he left, you were all smiles. You hugged me a lot and tried your best to cheer me up.
“I don’t feel like playing today. I’m sorry.” No matter how many times I told you, you still tried. It was your sloppy, childish kiss on my cheek that cheered me up for that day.
You helped me get over Dad leaving us and made me see that it was better for us. There were less of your bad days, and more days when I would stay in the house, just to watch you. The more I was with you, the less Mom was, but it wasn’t a bad thing. I knew she using you as an excuse to keep her distracted about Dad leaving.
She cried everyday for three months until I found her dead in her bedroom. I never forgave Dad for breaking her heart.
Con-crit greatly appreciated. :]