Freedom in Speech

Written by Nimmoh Stanely Tuesday, 10 July 2012 12:01

The knock on the door wakes me up as my mom shouts my name through out the house. It’s Sunday morning and the whole family is preparing to go to church. But as usual, I am hang-overed lying next to a girl in my bed. My mom calls them “sleep-overs”. And I know better that to correct her. Not that I think I am doing something wrong…only that I know her what her reaction would be if I told her the truth. So I let her think whatever she wants. Much better for all us.

I quickly wrap a towel around myself and rush to the door. She gives me a disapproving once-over and hands me the keys before telling me that there are dishes in the kitchen that need my attendance. I know I probably will not do them but I am feeling too sleepy to argue with her. She can smell the alcohol in my breath but she is in a hurry to argue with me and she knows if she tries I will do what I always do when they criticize my choice of lifestyle: threaten to move out.

I am old enough to live alone but for some reason my parents are afraid of letting me move out. So it’s always my go-to threat when I don’t want them in my business. Hence, they let me do what I want. Almost all the time. But I know telling them I am gay would be crossing the line. And of late my Dad has shown sign of getting fed up with me. Last time I threatened to move out, he didn’t seem fazed.

Anyway, I lay back in bed and I listen to gate being closed as the family car drives out. I look at Terry sleeping naked besides me and I smile. She is a sweet girl. Too sweet it hurts to see her falling for me and I know this will not go anywhere. But as long as she has not brought up the subject, I will have fun.

I know its wrong to stereotype but isn’t it always the case? Gay people dislike commitments. I don’t know what their excuse is but I know mine; I am simply lazy and irresponsible. It’s not something I am proud of but I always tell myself that when the right girl comes along, I will commit. In the mean time, just be myself.

So I kiss her along her back working my way down and she stirs and smiles.

My name is Jane. But every ones calls me Jay. Sounds cooler, don’t you think? And this is my coming out story.

-Jay