Chapter 8 Shame

My jaw throbbed all the way home. I knew I was lucky to have avoided a much worse beating. If the entire group had been involved I wasn’t sure I would have been able to walk away at all. Benjy had done me that one kindness at least.

My heart sank when I pulled into our driveway. My mother’s car was parked out front. I couldn’t face her too. So I let myself in through the garage door and snuck down the hall toward the bathroom. I flipped the light switch and stared at my reflection in the mirror. My lip was split and swollen. Blood coated my chin with a layer of gore that I was grateful my mother hadn’t seen.

I ran the tap until it was ice cold and soaked a washcloth underneath the tap. I pressed it to my face with a sigh of relief. I opened the medicine cabinet with my spare hand and pulled out the bottle of painkillers left over from when my mom threw out her back.

As soon as I turned off the faucet, I heard my mother shouting at my aunt. Again. Or still. I tried not to listen. I really did. But her words cut through me deeply.

“I have never been so ashamed in my entire life! Everyone knows what my son is. And I hear he’s been throwing himself at boys all over the rez and trying to force himself on them. It’s disgusting.”

I lowered the seat of the toilet and sat down, closing my eyes. I could taste the coppery bitterness of blood in my mouth. My mother hated me. She thought I was disgusting. And she was ashamed of me.

And I was so utterly tired of my life.

I took the pills out of the bottle and lined them up on the edge of the sink, one by one. There they were, end to end, a long row of painkillers.

“The only thing that Joe is, is your son and my nephew,” I heard my aunt say. “He’s family. I don’t love him any less because he happens to be gay!”

“Well . . . he’s not welcome under my roof.”

I picked up a pill and swallowed it, looking at the rest of them lined up perfectly.

“As far as I’m concerned, I don’t have a son,” my mother continued.

I picked up the next pill, then the next, swallowing each pill until there were none left on the sink. I sank to the floor and waited for the pills to work their magic and take this pain away forever. My aunt’s voice broke through my reverie.

“Joe is my nephew. I couldn’t care less if he’s gay. Frankly, if he wants to have sex with the entire starting line-up for the Toronto Blue Jays, I’ll support him. I know why you feel the way you do, Mary . . . I know what you’ve been through in your life. I know why you didn’t come home to live with Dad and me when Joe’s dad left. I know that you thought that religion was the only way to protect your son. But don’t lose him over this. You’ll regret it someday.”

My eyes filled with tears at my aunt’s words. How she could accept me without question when my own mother wouldn’t? It was more than I could understand. I felt pulled in two directions . . . an aunt who accepted me and a mother who wouldn’t let me in the door. It was too much.

But it wasn’t so much that I couldn’t face another day. How could I give up when Aunt Ava wasn’t giving up on me? I raised a shaking hand and pushed two fingers as far down my throat as I could.

I turned just in time to throw up what looked like a million undigested pills into the toilet. I reached up and flushed, watching them get washed away. No matter what she thought of me, I just couldn’t let my mom find me dead. I knew I had a future even if I didn’t know what or where it would be.

* * *

I spent the night pacing around my room, trying to decide what to do. I knew my aunt was completely sincere. She loved me. If it was up to Aunt Ava, I could stay with her. But my mother would turn her back on her sister for opening her door to me. And my grandfather would never stand for it. It was his house, his rules.

I went to my dresser and started pulling out clothes. Jeans. T-shirts. Socks and underwear. I opened up the cigar box I kept on the top shelf of the closet and took out all of my cash. It was money I had saved over the summer, mowing lawns and doing odd jobs for people on the rez. I packed all of it into a backpack, and then padded down the hall and into the bathroom. I grabbed my toothbrush and opened the medicine cabinet, picking out deodorant, an extra tube of toothpaste, and soap. I started down the hall, to the door but paused in front of my mom’s room. She might hate me right now but I couldn’t leave her without saying goodbye.

I took the notepad out of the drawer in the kitchen and jotted her a note.

Dear Mom. I know that you probably won’t understand why I’m leaving. I know I can’t stay here and I know you don’t want me to. I’m sorry I disappointed you. I’ll call you and let you know I’m okay. I love you. Joe.

I had finally got the beater running a couple of weeks before. I figured it should get me to the city. I knew that a city as big and diverse as Toronto had to be more accepting. If there was anyplace I was going to fit in and find other people like me, it was there. I took my keys off the hook by the door and left the house, locking the door silently behind me.

I took one last long look in the rear-view mirror as I drove down the street.