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Author's Note: I'm posting this on Friday instead of Sunday like I planned. Its a short one too and not a lot happens to move the story alone. Its more of a lot of stuff at home, fleshing out family and things. I also wanted to point out that very briefly I called his older sister "Marie" in the first chapter but gave her the name Alexis later on because I ding dong. I have since gone back and fixed it in Ch.1 LOL. Thanks to that eagle eye beta reader who pointed it out. Also quick note, Ch.3 might be a few weeks off but I haven't decided yet. I'm only 4 pages into Ch.4 and haven't had a lot of time to write it lately.

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2.

The walk home was surprisingly cold.

Thankfully it wasn’t very long. I might not have been as athletic as my father wanted, but I wasn’t unfit. I’d been making this mile-long hike from home to school for years now. We were a small town and because of that there was only one central block of schools for each level. Our elementary, middle and high school were all in one place. The buildings were only separated by large courtyards and in the case of the elementary school, a large playground as well. When I was much smaller, Mom used to drop me off at school but as I got older, Alexis used to walk with me. That stopped after she graduated high school and moved onto college two years ago.

Not that I cared, I liked taking this walk alone. It gave me time to think.

As I walked today, I couldn’t help but think about Mel. It was strange really because I’d never given her a second thought before. It's not like I ignored her, it's just that she was always just there. Now I couldn’t get her out of my head. It wasn’t an attraction thing either. Sure Mel was really cute. She was spunky and fun and full of life. The kind of girl I might eventually see myself with some day. At the same time though, I knew if I ever brought a girl like that home, my parents would flip. Though they didn’t have strict rules on who we could or could not date, Lexi brought home a guy once who had a lip ring and I thought Dad was going to blow a gasket. He was really polite when he met the dude but later chewed out my sister for it. Suffice to say, there was no second date. That was only one lip ring too. I can’t imagine what he’d say to me if I walked in with Mel one day?

I could only shudder at the thought.

There was something more to all of this though. I’m not sure why I couldn’t get her out of my head, it was almost as if this was the first time we’d ever met? That was crazy though because I’d been sitting next to her since school started a month ago. We were in the same freshman Art class last year too. We never talked much back then but she was still the same girl as I remember now. Maybe her hair was purple then? It was hard to remember. The thing is, I never thought about her then. So why now and why so much?

I shook my head.

It was baffling.

My thoughts were interrupted when I arrived home. I sighed in relief because Dad’s truck wasn’t in the driveway, which meant he was probably still at the garage. One less annoyance for me right now. Not only that but I’d be able to get my work done without him chewing me out for not being there to help him today. Generally he forced me to spend most of my time after school at the garage helping him out. I didn’t do “real work” there though because he didn’t think I was man enough for that. Instead, he had me doing things like sweeping the floor and making sure all the tools were put in their proper place.

I’m not gonna lie, I HATED it.

Thankfully, tonight I’d be able to avoid it for a few hours.

Walking up the front walk, I couldn’t help but take a moment to stop and stare at the house. We lived in a development just outside of town. It was one of those cut-outs that sprang up all over the place back in the seventies. At one time, the houses were probably top of the line, now a lot of them were starting to show their age. We lived in a cul-de-sac, our house was the center one. The beige siding was starting to fade in the sun, the paint on the front door and shingles was starting to crack and peel. We were the only split level ranch too, which meant we had a one-car garage and a fairly narrow driveway. Most of the time, Dad’s old pickup sat there. The only good thing about this place was the backyard. Whoever built the house managed to cut us a nice yard. It was the largest one around.

Not that I got much use out of it anymore.

I barely went back there unless it was to mow it.

Making sure not to step on what was left of Mom’s flowers, I made my way to the front door, unlocked it and crept inside. I’m not sure why I needed to be quiet or sneaky, no one was apparently home. Without me, Dad would have to do his own sweeping up and Mom was probably working late at the office. As for Alexis, she didn’t live at home anymore. Not that you’d ever know, she drove here every weekend. She went to a state school that was only about an hour drive away. Mom tried to convince her to live at home and commute but my sister wasn’t having any of it. She wanted her freedom and I could hardly blame her. While Dad had a tough approach to parenting, Mom was downright smothering.

Alexis told me she needed a break.

And she was pushing for me to go to an out of state school too if I could.

I was seriously considering it. There were a couple of really nice Art schools I was eyeing.

Not that my parents would ever approve.

Not that they had much of a say either.

I went into the living room, dropped my pack near the door for a moment, and went into the kitchen to make myself a snack. I was starving, the last time I ate felt like hours ago. Rummaging through the fridge, I couldn’t help but notice that lately my appetite had changed. I wasn’t as hungry as I used to be and when I did eat, it was a lot less. Then there would be these spikes, like now, where I felt like I could eat a whole horse. I heated up some leftovers and started digging into them at the table. I had just started to eat when I noticed it was a little cold in here too. It was strange because I knew my mother generally kept the house fairly warm starting at the beginning of October. Mom was always cold, blamed it on poor genes.

Leaving my food for a moment, I went back into the living room to check the thermostat.

Wow.

It was fifty degrees in here.

Rubbing my cold hands together, I readjusted it and went back to my food.

Had Mom been that careless?

Shrugging it off, I went back into the kitchen to finish my food. As soon as I sat and started to eat again, I noticed the food was ice cold.

What the actual fuck?

Annoyed, I just dumped everything in the trash.

Grabbing my stuff from the living room, I instead decided to just do my homework. Maybe I could get most of it done before Dad got home and started bitching. There was hope anyway. Taking the stairs two at a time, I made short work of the staircase, then the hallway itself. My room was the first door on the left. There were four bedrooms in this house, Lexi’s room was across the hall, my parents’ room at the end of it. The fourth room was the smallest, Mom used it as an at-home-office space. She barely used it though, so we also put a futon in there for guests. Not that we ever had any.

Slipping into my room, I tossed my stuff on the bed.

My room was the typical boy’s room, the walls and my bedding were blue, I had a desk, a dresser and a bookcase. There were shelves too, covered in trophies. They weren’t mine though, they were Dad’s. He said they were there to “inspire” me but they never did. Dad was still holding out hope I’d drop this “sissy” art shit and move onto sports like a real man. There was a lot of other sports crap in my room too, most of it for this team or that. I didn’t really care about any of it. A few years ago, I tried to complain to my mother about it but she told me “the rules are the rules”.

They were the most backwards people I ever knew.

I mean who ignores their kid’s wishes so they can have the “perfect” family?

Grunting, I went to my desk and started on my homework. I was halfway through it when I heard the front door slam hard. Shit. How had I not heard the car in the driveway? I crossed my fingers, hoping it was Mom getting home early after a bad day? The stomping around downstairs told me otherwise. The voice that shouted up the stairs confirmed it:

“TAYLOR!”

Shit.

I heard him stomping up the stairs, trying to sound bigger than he was. A moment later, my door was practically flung open. Dad struck an imposing figure. At six foot four and over two hundred and fifty pounds, he excelled at intimidation. When he was my age he was a linebacker and never let me forget it. Though he was starting to show some of that early forties wear and tear, Dad made sure to take care of himself. When he wasn’t working or going out with his Boys, he was at the Gym. He used to try and drag me there too but when I could barely bench my own body weight, he stopped taking me because I was an “embarrassment”. Just as well, I HATED the place.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing!”

“My homework.”

“Don’t get smart with me!”

“I’m not being smart. You asked a question, I answered.”

This was how Dad operated. He asked questions that he already knew the answers to but got pissed off because I refused to “play along with him”. It worked when I was six but I’m not a child anymore. Frankly, I was getting tired of it all. My father had this image of our relationship in his head. That perfect Father/Son bonding experience. One that he tried to force on me for years, even though I made it very clear I didn’t want it.

His eyes narrowed. “You were supposed to be at the Garage!”

I sighed. I wanted to roll my eyes but that wouldn’t have turned out in my favor.

“I had to do that committee thing. We talked about it.”

I say we talked but in reality, I told him about it, he pretended to listen then bitched. He tried calling the school to complain but Principal Hayes tossed it back in his face.

He scoffed. “I told that Principal I didn’t want a son of mine doing that sissy shit.”

Dad was in good form today.

He wasn’t even trying to hide the bigotry and homophobia. At least he wasn’t rolling into his usual racist rants as well. I swear to God my father was a walking, talking stereotype. If there was an Asshole checklist, my father would hit each one every time he opened his mouth. I’d like to say he was a rare type around here but I’d be lying. This part of the state was fairly conservative and men like my father were a dime a dozen. I’m not saying everyone was like him but a good portion of the male population around here was. It was why people like Donny could give me a hard time and get away with it.

“I’m calling him again.” grumbled my Dad, more to himself than me but just as loud. “The Stewart men are not fags.”

Dad of the Year.

He didn’t wait for me to say anything, he just stomped out of my room.

A few minutes later, I heard a lot of screaming then the door slammed. Dad was probably on his way to the bar now, his second home away from home. Just as well, it meant he’d probably be there for a couple of hours and give me some peace. I didn’t let out the breath I was holding though until I heard his truck pulling away. At least I heard it this time. I waited a minute or so longer before I started my homework again. I got it done as quickly as I could.

Just as I was finishing up, I heard the front door open downstairs.

I winced, waiting for more screaming.

“Taylor!?”

Mom.

I didn’t wait for her to come up the stairs looking for me. Instead, I left my room and met her in the kitchen.

“Hey Mom.” I said, trying to be as nonchalant as possible.

“Honey, did you adjust the heat?”

“Only to turn it up.” I confessed. “It was ice cold in here.”

She frowned. “Damn thing, I swear your father needs to get that fixed.”

I scoffed and said sarcastically, “I’m sure he’ll put it on his list.”

Mom gave me a look but didn’t say anything.

She knew I was right. Mom wasn’t a bad person but her resolve to let Dad have his own way was ridiculous. I knew there were times she didn’t agree with his bullshit but instead of speaking up, she let him steamroll me. She let him do the same to her when she thought I didn’t notice. It was mind-boggling. Mom was a lawyer, she argued for a living and yet Dad got to push her around too? What’s more, the only thing they argued about was money. Not the typical argument either. You would think that the kind of person my father was, he’d be upset my mother made more. That wasn’t the issue though. He was mad that my mother didn’t spend more. They would argue then later she’d agree.

Then she’d defend him if I said anything.

She always defended him in fact.

It still blew my mind how a sweet, kind woman could ever be married to a Pig like him?

“Where is your father?” she asked, ignoring my quip for once.

“The bar probably.” I said, dropping into one of the kitchen chairs. “He got mad that I wasn’t at the Garage today, even though he knew why.”

Mom started washing the dishes that Dad didn’t bother to take care of last night. I thought I heard her sigh over the running water but it might have been my imagination. Mom had to know some of his crap was wrong but never once bothered to stand up for me. I used to admire her once. When I was little, I used to think she was the most awesome Mom in the world. Then again, what little kid didn’t love their mother? As I got older though, things changed. As soon as puberty hit for me and I didn’t “mature” like other boys, my Dad started his crap. Mom did nothing to stop him. That’s when I started to pity her. Mom was a victim in all of this too.

What I once thought as sweet, I realized was actually docile.

Brave became cowardly.

I wasn’t the only one who thought so either.

Lexi did too.

The way my parents treated me was one of the reasons she barely came around anymore. She tried to fight for me but Dad would not have any of it. Lexi didn’t back down though, already she had more of a backbone then our mother did. She and Dad argued a lot. Dad didn’t like a woman speaking back to him and Lexi HATED how badly he treated everyone around him. The problem is, they paid her tuition still. Well, Mom paid for it to be fair. Even though she toed the line with Dad, she didn’t dare go against Mom for fear that she’d lose everything. I loved her for trying to help but was disappointed she couldn’t do more.

We were one big happy family.

“Did you have fun today?”

These little moments when Dad was gone were the only ones we got to talk.

Without saying a word, I got up from the table and approached the sink. I grabbed one of the washcloths and started drying the dishes as she washed them. She gave me a weak smile. If Dad ever caught me doing it, there would be hell to pay.

“It was ok. The girls asked me to add some fairies to their posters.”

“Fairies?”

“The theme for the Halloween dance is The Fairy Forest. One of the girls knew I was an artist and asked me to help.”

Mom rarely pried into my social life. She knew I didn’t have any friends because I never left the house. She did show concern from time to time. Mostly that she thought it was unhealthy but never tried forcing me to go out more. Dad never stopped nagging me about it though. It pissed him off that his son spent every waking hour at home, especially on the weekends. Men were supposed to be out. When he was my age, the weekends were meant for dating and partying with his friends. He definitely had a girlfriend then.

Dad ran hot and cold on the whole thing though. Last year, I had to do a school project with a girl in my class named Clara. I thought Dad would finally get off my case to get a girlfriend if he actually saw me with a girl. Dad didn’t say anything the whole time she was there. He mostly kept to himself, watching TV. As soon as she left though, he started in on me about how I picked the wrong girl. Clara was short, a tad bit on the heavy side and wore glasses. No son of his was going to date an “ugly chick”. The next time we had to meet for the project, I made some excuse and we met in the library instead. That only made it worse though because Dad started screaming at me because I wasn’t bringing Clara around. I swear the man was a mental case.

“Did you show them your comic?”

Mom knew about my comic. It was our secret. We both knew that if Dad found out, he’d flip. I didn’t go out of my way to show her, she caught me working on it one day. At first I was embarrassed and tried to hide it, but I realized I needed someone to confide in. So I told her about it. She was impressed with it. I’m sure that was just a mother being a mother but she honestly told me it was one of the more interesting ideas she’d ever heard of. I didn’t tell her where I got the ideas from. How do you explain to someone that you have these weirdly realistic dreams?

We finished taking care of the dishes. I was helping her put them away when she stopped me.

“I’m gonna start dinner, so maybe you should go and shower?”

I was confused.

Mom reached up and touched my cheek, running her finger across it. I was confused until she showed me what was stuck to it.

Glitter.

How had Dad not seen that?

“Thanks Mom.”

I surprised both of us with a hug. I couldn’t remember the last time I hugged my mother. Hell, I couldn’t remember the last time she and I just talked like that. Even if it was about nothing, it was nice to have these quiet moments. With Dad always on my case, they were few and far between.

I finished helping her put the dishes away, then headed upstairs.

There were two and a half bathrooms in the house. My parents had a small ensuite whereas Lexi and I shared the upstairs one. The third was downstairs but we rarely used it. It was mostly for guests, which we rarely had. When my folks bought this house, they were convinced they’d be social butterflies. We used to throw parties when Lexi and I were younger. As we got older and Mom got busier at work, we stopped bothering. Plus, most of the neighbors only pretended to like my father. The same could be said for our extended family. Dad’s parents were in Florida, we got cards for Birthdays and holidays. Mom’s parents were dead. Mom had no siblings but Dad had a sister who rarely spoke to him. I had a couple of cousins but they were practically strangers.

We face-timed sometimes but it never amounted to much.

Thinking about family was the last thing I wanted in the bathroom though.

Undressing to my boxers, I couldn’t help but look into the mirror and frown. No matter how much I hated my father for pointing it out, he wasn’t wrong. I was a frail and wimpy looking kid. Barely five foot seven and thin as a rail. I had no muscle to speak of and my skin was pale white. I looked like I hadn’t seen a ray of sun in a decade. Which was ironic given that my blonde hair was so white it looked bleached. It was especially funny because my hair never used to be this blonde. Mom and Lexi both had honey blonde hair, Dad had dark brown. My hair was always a bit in-between. As I got older though, it gradually started to get lighter. Dad was furious at first, convinced I was doing it to myself.

It was made worse by my soft, girly face.

I sighed.

No wonder Donny wanted to kick my ass all the time.

Leaning closer to the mirror, I saw the glitter Mom mentioned earlier.

I cursed.

Well it could be worse, the girls could have tried putting makeup on me again like in sixth grade.

I shuddered at that memory.

Stripping off my boxers, I turned on the shower and stepped in, hoping the warm water would take away all my worries, especially the glitter.

Huh, I thought this was warm?

I checked the tap.

Maybe Dad needed to get the water looked at it too?

Author’s note: As I’m sure all of you know, comments are life blood to an author. I’m not begging or demanding, but I certainly would appreciate anything you have to say (or ask). It doesn’t have to be long and involved, just give me your reaction to the story. Anything critical you have to say, PLEASE do so in a PM. Pointing out people's flaws or mistakes in a comment is hurtful and NOT appreciated.Thanks in advance...EOF