Zayn

The air was thin and hot. My hair stuck to my forehead and my back ached. The counselors made me stay in a ‘solitude room’ on a rickety old bed. I was probably better off sleeping on the floor it was that uncomfortable. They’d woken me up, fed me, and instructed me that my grandmother would be there soon to pick me up.

“You know you’re going to hell if you don’t repent for your sins. Right?” the stalky counselor whose name always escaped me, barked. He’d been making snide comments at me all morning, yelling at me as I brushed my teeth, throwing my bag on the floor and laughing at me while I picked up the contents that had spilled out.

After hours and hours, they led me outside and told me to sit on a bench and wait for my grandma. Nick approached, and I resisted the urge to rush over to him, fists in the air ready to pound his face in. Instead, I gritted my teeth and looked away.

“Your grandmother just called. She isn’t picking you up. We can arrange for a bus to take you home, but it’ll be charged to the visa used to pay for camp. Or you could walk.”

“Whatever,” I said under my breath as I crossed my arms. A bead of sweat ran down my forehead as I stared at Nick.

“Well, what is it?”

No freaking way I would walk to Macon. Hell, I didn’t even know where it was. “Bus.”

“We’ll charge the credit card.”

“Fine.” My mom had abandoned me, and I didn’t care if they charged her more money. She’d sent me to this hellhole because she was a stupid witch.

Two more hours passed. Starving and bored out of my mind, I counted the minutes as they rolled by. Eventually, some sneering jerk drove me to a bus station. Not looking back once, I loaded on, glad to be done with that terrible place.

The bus was uncomfortable and slow so I stuffed my headphones in my ears and rested my head against the window, watching the cars pass by on the other side of the road. With my music playing, sadness filled me. I’d never see Jason again. There was no way I could find him.

I saw the ‘welcome to Macon’ sign and kept waiting to see the city or a neighborhood or something. When buildings appeared, the place looked more like a town you passed through on your way to somewhere more important. I didn’t want to live here. Heavy sadness filled me as thoughts of Jason shifted over my mind. Sure, he lived in this town too, but how would I find him?

The bus station was about two miles from my grandma’s place. I wasn’t surprised she hadn’t shown up to pick me up. No one cared about me. I knew that now. But even though she didn’t care, I had to have a place to live.

After another glance around, I started my trek to her house. The area was a little rundown, paint peeling on most of the houses. Grandma was sitting out on the porch, her arms folded over her chest. An unwelcoming grimace marred her features. Thirty seconds passed then another thirty before she said anything.

Her lips curled up, and she huffed out a breath. “Get inside, Zayn. We’ll talk about things in there.”

Her house was small and smelled like old people, a little dirty and a bit like a medical clinic. The house was a townhome built half a century ago. Old and rickety was the best way to describe it. The stairs creaked and groaned as we climbed up and up. The bedroom she wanted me in was on the third floor, far away from her TV. I wasn’t disappointed.

Once up there, she lit in on me. “You are a disgrace to this family, you know that? Your mother spent all this money to send you somewhere nice to fix you and make you a better, holier man for God, and this is what you do? Shame on you.”

“Somewhere nice? Grandma, that place was hell. They were horrible to everyone—”

She cut me off, raising her voice. “It’s not supposed to be easy! Everyone has sins they must work through. You think I’m perfect? You needed the guidance of all of those wise pastors and men to help you overcome your sins. And you didn’t even try!”

Grandma shook her head at me before she walked down the stairs, pulling a cigarette out of her pocket along the way. I heard a door slam, maybe the back porch door, because I knew she didn’t smoke in front of the house because she said it wasn’t good for neighbors to see. Talk about being hypocritical.

After twenty minutes, she called for me. The sigh escaped before I could catch it. She’d be upset if I didn’t go see what she wanted.

“Supper is in a few. You’re welcome to take your food and eat in your room as long as you complete your nightly chores. The list is on the fridge,” she said, her lips still curled up in a sneer.

I scrunched my eyebrows together and walked towards the fridge. Sure enough, there was a list of bullshit taped to it.

Before you can eat, you must:

Take out all trash

Unclog upstairs toilet

Vacuum living room

Wash my car

Wash sheets for your bed

Vacuum the stairs

I ripped the yellow sheet of lined paper off the fridge and cursed under my breath. I would rather live on the streets than in this shithole. Sure, I’d had chores when I lived with my mom, but this was bullshit. She hadn’t even come to pick me up, and I hadn’t eaten all day.

I blew out a breath and stared at the ceiling. Maybe I was just angry because today had sucked. I took an apple off the counter and bit in, eating it on my way upstairs. First, I started the bedding in the washer. Then I took out the trash and cringed at all the gross things like hair and toothpicks with food on them. I gagged as I unclogged the toilet. My living room vacuum job could best be described as half-assed. After I threw the sheets in the dryer, I tackled the stairs, vacuuming them before I moved to the kitchen and read over the list again.

I was still hungry and angry. When I opened the refrigerator door, my grandma came in and popped me on the shoulder with her cane.

“Ouch.” I rubbed the spot, angry she’d hit me.

“No more food until you’re finished. I saw you ate an apple. Don’t think I’m not watching. You can eat after you do your chores.”

My stomach turned, and my head spun. No way I could put up with this crap on a regular basis. She was being unreasonable, but I didn’t have any money to buy my own dinner or any friends to eat with.

I grabbed an old sponge and some rags from the closet. I was hesitant about what soap to use on her car. She didn’t give me any further instruction, and I didn’t want to interrupt her Jeopardy marathon. I grabbed the dawn dish soap and a bucket from underneath the sink and headed outside.

Even with the sun going down, it was still hot as hell. Sweaty and stinky, I was about ready to give in and just scream until I got food. No shower, sitting in the hot sun, the bus, and then the walk was too much. Cleaning up after Grandma was insult added to injury. I just wanted a shower and food.

I dropped the bucket and filled it with water, wringing out the sponge in it a few times. She didn’t have a hose long enough to reach the driveway, so things were a little complicated.

Scrubbing all the dried dirt off her car was nearly impossible. I couldn’t take it anymore, so I plopped down on the driveway and peeled my shirt off. I had a couple cigarettes in my pocket and pulled one out. With it lit and between my lips, the stress of the day finally eased a little. I peeked through the windows to make sure Grandma was nowhere in sight.

It was quiet on the street which was nice, but I was lonely and missed Jason. The sun was setting over the houses across the street. Lights popped on, dogs barked, and cars honked in the distance. I thought about how Jason and I had kissed, how his lips had felt against mine. He would feel good up against me. We were such a perfect fit. Sure it had felt good to kiss Mike and Mr. Foley, but with Jason something was different. We had a real connection. A single tear slid down my cheek as I exhaled the smoke from my cigarette. Would life ever get better? How would I survive living here?

After I finished with the car, I fixed a plate and took it upstairs. Eating alone, away from Grandma, was a good thing. I didn’t think I could stand having to put up with her after cleaning her trashy house.

Grandma busted in my room at approximately eight in the morning. She’d babbled on about how I should’ve been grateful for how she’d let me sleep in, and now it was time for me to start on my chores. She wanted me to go grocery shopping for her, but first, we were going to pray and eat breakfast together.

I rubbed my eyes as she left my room and slumped back into the creaky twin bed. Though I’d put clean sheets on yesterday, it still smelled like a nursing home—maybe it was the mattress. The clock hanging on the wall ticked persistently every second, reminding me of how slow time was passing.

Depression hit as I brushed my hair and teeth. On my way downstairs, I wondered how I’d gotten here. Why had my mom rejected me? How could she have tossed me out like she had?

Grandma eyes narrowed as I stepped into the kitchen. Perched on the edge of her chair, she leaned forward, and I feared she would fall over. She pointed to a chair across from her, and I sat. My butt hadn’t even hit the seat when she started praying.

“Dear heavenly Father above, please bless this food I have so graciously provided for my grandson, no matter how undeserving he is. Please help him to become a diligent young man and abandon his sinful, homosexual ways. In Your name, I pray, amen.”

I had never rolled my eyes as hard as I did in that moment.

“Eat up. It’ll get cold,” Grandma insisted as she pushed the boxed pancakes and microwaved sausages my way. My stomach turned, and my appetite fled as I looked at the unappealing food.

“Well, eat your food, or don’t. I spent time slaving away in the kitchen, the least you could do is be grateful.” Grandma went off on some long-winded speech about respect and being kind and repenting from my sins. I only half-listened as I drifted off in thought about Jason and how much I missed him. A deep depression fell over me. Why did no one accept us? Why was our love so horrible that people weren’t okay with it?

The food sat heavy in my stomach. I’d eaten, though the food hadn’t tasted that great. I knew Grandma might not feed me again since she was having such a hard time with me being there. Her griping in my presence never seemed to cease.

I took Grandma’s car which she was reluctant to let me drive to the grocery store. With the list in hand, I walked without purpose towards the entryway. Washington was exciting. It was nice. There were lots of wealthy families, nice grocery stores, malls, and parks. Macon wasn’t a total dump, but it was a lot less impressive than where I grew up. Back home the areas in the city were always freshly landscaped, bushes trimmed, grass mowed and edged. It was well kept. The grass here looked like it hadn’t been managed in a week or two. It wasn’t awful, it just wasn’t what I was used to. Weeds grew a foot high, and there was trash everywhere. Broken bottles littered the sidewalks, and I saw evidence of drug use.

I felt like a stranger here. I mean, I was, but no one even tried to be nice. I didn’t have a single clue where anything was. I walked around like an idiot in the store looking for milk, squinting to read the small printed signs above the aisles.

My cart squeaked and bumped with every turn, the rusty handlebar sitting uncomfortably underneath my sweaty palms. I examined Grandma’s list before picking out a carton of milk. She specifically wanted Borden’s lite line skim milk. I scanned my eyes over the row, depressed over the limited selection. Finally, I found the exact one she wanted. If I took too long at the store, I knew she’d yell at me, but she’d be even more pissed if I got the wrong thing.

I placed the cold carton in the cart when a sudden noise startled me and pulled me from my thoughts of Grandma’s lectures.

A tall, built man stood across the aisle, looking over his shoulder at me with a devious smirk. He’d dropped something on the floor, and instead of being a normal human being and quickly picking it up, trying to save himself from embarrassment, he waited until I was looking to bend over and stick his ass out at an appealing angle. I would be lying if I said it wasn’t distracting. But I wasn’t interested. I rolled my eyes and went back to my list.

As I was trying to figure out what cheese Grandma wanted, I noticed the guy getting closer. Before I knew it, he was standing painfully close to the other side of my cart, his white teeth beaming at me in a playful smile.

“Are you from around here?” he asked, his voice coy and quiet.

“Um, no, I’m not. Just moved here,” I said with a nod in his direction before I looked away and moved my cart forward, away from him. He was attractive, but I wasn’t interested. He seemed pushy and sort of reminded me of Mike.

“Whoa, hey, don’t run away so fast.” he said a little louder with one hand now on my cart, stopping me from going anywhere. The sucker moved fast and had pinned me in.

“You look like you need a friend. My name’s Connor. Here’s my number if you want to hang out.” He stuffed a piece of paper in my hand and winked as he walked away.

I’d never been so openly approached by a gay guy. I was dumbfounded. I stuffed the paper in my pocket to be thrown away later. All I wanted in that moment was to be holding hands with Jason while I searched for the ridiculously specific grocery items my grandma had listed.