Page 3 of This is Me

A large white lounge sat slightly off centre in the middle of the room, accompanied by two recliner chairs of the same colour. My family honestly didn’t need so many places to sit, but I guess it was nice to have options. In front of the chairs was an average-sized, flat-screen television, which we rarely ever watched. Deciding I still needed some time away from the video I had made, I made myself comfortable on the lounge and turned on the television. I tried to find something to watch—which proved more difficult than I would have liked it to be. Though, soon, I settled on a random cooking show and found myself losing track of time.

“Peter!” A voice rippled through the house and broke me out of my trance.

To my surprise, the cooking show had become quite fascinating, what with Brenda suspected of cheating by stealing Greg’s cooking supplies. Who knew a show about competitive cooking could be so dramatic.

“I hope you’re not masturbating!” A different voice made its way to my ears, and I scoffed slightly.

My family had returned home.

“Shit,” I mumbled to myself, panicking slightly as the realisation set in. “My family’s home.”

“Bradly!” I heard my mum scold my brother as my dad let out a chuckle.

Quickly getting up from the lounge and shutting the television off, I made my way out of the living room and into the kitchen, which my mum and brother had just entered.

“Ew, in the living room?” Bradly raised his eyebrows at me before shooting me a quick wink.

“Bradly!” My mum repeated, though I saw a hint of a smile on her lips.

“Sorry, sorry,” Bradly threw his hands up in surrender before starting to unpack some of the groceries they had brought in.

“Stop standing around like a flower and do something, Pete,” my dad said as he walked into the kitchen, flashing me a quick smile in the process.

I nodded to no one in particular and began helping load the groceries away, all while listening to my family talk about their shopping trip.

“Jesus, Pete, you should’ve seen how terrible your brother is at parking,” my dad started, teasingly pushing Bradly’s shoulder. “I doubt he’d be able to drive into a barn, even if he tried.”

“Oh, shut up!” Bradly laughed. “At least I didn’t ram the trolley into another human!”

“Something caught my eye, okay?” my dad defended himself before my mum chipped in.

“Better have not been another woman, Mr Stone.”

“Never in a million years,” my dad stated and swiftly gave my mum a quick kiss.

“PG, guys. PG,” I mumbled, and earned a chuckle from my mum.

“Oh, Pete. You should have seen the guy behind the counter we went to,” Bradly started, chuckling slightly to himself. “I have never seen anyone that gay in my life.”

My heart dropped at Bradly’s words, and it felt as though the world was spinning slightly. Sweat started to form on my hands, and I tried my best to keep my heart rate down. I knew that this wasn’t anything significant, but for some reason, whenever someone in my family mentioned the word gay, this was how I reacted. It was no wonder I hadn’t come out yet. If my second-hand anxiety was this bad for another gay person, I had no doubt that my first-hand anxiety would be much worse.

“He had so much flair, didn’t he?” My dad put his two cents in, waving his hand in what I assumed he thought was a ‘gay’ manner.

I cringed at the sight but did my best not to show it. It wasn’t like this was the first time a conversation like this had come up, so I was getting better at not showing my discomfort. All I had to do was wait for it to end.

“He seems like the type that would go home and lay in a bunch of flower petal, dreaming of Zac Efron and all the things he’d like to do—"

“Alright, new topic!” Mum quickly said, and I couldn’t be more thankful. I could practically feel the hot sweat seeping through my skin.

“I got some homework to do,” I said suddenly, trying to find an excuse to rush up to my room and deal with the video I had made as quickly as possible. “I forgot I had it,” I added promptly as both my parents looked at me with raised eyebrows.

“And here I thought we raised non-procrastinators,” my dad said, turning to my mum. “Yet, here we are.”

“Stop being dramatic.” Mum chuckled. She gave my dad another quick kiss before turning back to me. “Make sure to get it all done, honey. I’ll call you down for dinner.”

I gave a quick smile to my mum and dad and got one in return before heading out of the kitchen. Much to my dismay, Bradly was following right behind me.

“What kind of homework is it?” He asked as we reached the stairs. “Maybe I could help?”