Revelations

Revelations

    Thirteen year old Scott Right was tall for his age, and good looking too. He looked more like his dad, thank God, than his mother. He had dark brown hair and blue eyes. He had come home from school for lunch today instead of eating lunch with Terry in the school cafeteria. There was something he had to say.

    At this moment though he was finding it hard to understand why he came home at all. Shortly after he walked into the kitchen Mom set a glass luncheon plate in front of him--on which lay a PJ sandwich and some chips-- a glass of milk and a can of yogurt, and then she'd chased around the kitchen, pretending to work.

    Scott was sitting across the bar from the stool which his mother should be occupying. He watched his mother pretended to doing dishes, something she hadn't done  by hand since Dad bought home the dishwasher six months ago. She wouldn’t have her hands in the sink now if the news wasn’t on. She didn’t like the story that was on the TV or what the reporter was saying. Scott listened carefully to the reporter on the fifteen inch TV monitor in the niche over the microwave. He  just shook his head and took a bite of his sandwich.

    “Mom," he said as he chewed his sandwich and washed it down with milk. "Can you believe what those people did to the man and his partner. How can they be so crass?” He said as he took another swallow of milk. To make his point Scott knife to the tile floor., actually, he pitched it at his mother to get her attention. He jumped down, picked it up and he sat down again. She turned toward him the utter look of disgust on his mother's face, he grinned. Score! He thought. Point well taken. “Mom, will you listen to me? Your coffee’s cold.”

    “Marcia Right turned her red head away from the sink long enough to gaze disapprovingly at her son, as she dried her hands on a paper towel and tossed it at the trash compactor. Her aim was way off, as usual, and the wad of paper bounced of the top of the compactor which was pulled out from its closet again. The towel hit the floor six inches behind the machine.

    The closet was beneath the tall microwave cabinet. She walked across the room, pulled the compactor into the middle of the room, picked up the wad of paper towel, and tossing it inside and closing the lid. She then pushed it back under the counter, closed the closet and walked to the island.

    Scott’s stomach turned as he watched her take her ta sip of the cold coffee. How can you drink that Mom? It must taste like mud by this time! That's the same mug you filled before I left for school this morning. It's been sitting  in the same place for three damn hours.!"  How can you drink that slop? How lame can you be?” He purposely used the word lame, he actually had another word in mind, but he really needed to talk to her and he didn’t want to make her mad, so his compromised. But she was forcing his hand here.

      He could never talk with her, because she refused to listen. He didn't think she cared most of time. “All right Son, what’s so important it can’t wait until the family meeting tonight?” She said in a bored tone.

    “You’re doing it again, Mom, and you wonder why I talk to Dad instead of you. I won’t be put off this time though, I'm going to do more than be a sounding brass and a tinkling cymbal. That's what the preacher always says. You’re going to listen to every word I’m saying. Is that clear?” He’d never talked to his mother like this before, but he’d had enough. Respect was earned and not inherited. If she didn’t respect him enough to listen, he didn’t respect her either, besides at this point she didn’t deserve the respect.

    She got a grip on her shock, closed her mouth and stared at him for a few seconds. “Scotty, don’t you ever talk to me like that again. Do you hear me?!” She said.

    Scott smiled. “Score!  We have to talk,” he repeated. “I not Scotty, and I’m not your little boy anymore in case you haven't noticed. To begin with my name is Scott and I’m thirteen years old, remember?

    “Of course I know how old you are,” she said.

    “Good, now that I actually have your attention you’re listening,” he replied.

    “You’re also being very rude, Scott,” she relied.

    “Rude seems to be the only thing you understand, Mom.” He told her. “I came home today, because there’s something I have to tell you, and I need your undivided attention. I talked to Dad about it for a long time after the family meeting last night and he told me to come to you, so . . .” he took another big bite of his sandwich,  shoveled several chips in on top, and taking a big swig of milk to washed it down, and swallowed the mushy lump and groaning.

    “Anyway, he said. “Like I said before, we have to talk. You have to stop being such a fanatic hypocrite, Mom. I know about the affair, what’s more, so does Dad. He's known for a long time. Why do you think he spends his nights at the office? I’ve been there, and there’s nobody there when he is there, at least not until after I come home. The point is you really hurt him bad when you made those ugly remarks about Danny after the Colonel came to tell you he was KIA in Afghanistan. You knew he was gay before he was ever deployed. He and Dad talked for a long time the night before he left home.”

    “Scott Right, how can you say such ugly things about your brother? Danny’s dead!” She gasped.

    “As if you cared,Mom, but they're true and you knew it too. Now here’s something else you need to know, actually you already now but you just won’t accept it. You think I’ll  just grow out of it, but I doesn't work like that, Mom. I was born to be me. I’m gay.

    “If you'd stop pretending to be holy and open your eyes you’d see there’s millions of us. If you’re not careful you’re going to lose Marcy too. It’s getting hard for her to take the bullying from the other kids at school, because she’s so shy. You don’t take time to talk to her or even listen to what’s bothering her.

    Scott swallowed the remainder of his sandwich and drank the rest of his milk. He turned his nose up at the can of yogurt. “Get real, Mom. I gotta get to class,” he said as he jumped down from his stool, grabbed the strap of his laptop satchel, and walked across the room, as he angrily slinging the strap over his shoulder. He walked outside,  leaving the sliders wide open, as he stomped across the deck,.

    He was so angry, and even a little hurt too.

    Trapper barked. “Hey Boy, talk you later, I gotta go.”

~~~~~

    Marcia Right listened as the sound of her son’s boots faded away. Scott hadn't thought she was listening, but she heard every word.

    He was right too, she was a hypocrite and religion had become her crutch.  Marcy was so very shy. She was not a lesbian or anything like that ,she was just a very intelligent, shy girl, but she believed the shyness would fade away with age. Marcy was only ten years old. And then there was Daniel, she couldn’t lose him, they’d been together since their first year of college. They were married less than a year later, following a whirlwind courtship.

    She stepped down from her stool, took her mug to the sink, poured the coffee down the drain, rinsed it out and took another cup from the cupboard and filled it with hot coffee. She all but ran through the side exit into the back hallway leading to the studio. “Daniel,” she called. “We need to talk!” She had to apologize to hin for the mean ugly things she'd said about Danny.