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Gavin
Eleven years ago
I standin a sea of suffocating black polyester. Bodies bump against me every five seconds, and the lack of personal space pisses me off. Who the hell organized this damn function? Whoever the fucker is, they should be fired. Because this is nothing short of chaos.
After a few minutes, we are all corralled through a doorway and led out to a spread of plastic folding chairs facing a stage. On the stage is a podium, a table, and several more folding chairs. The principal and other school staff sit on the stage chairs, their robes puffy and sashes colorful. A person stands in the aisle along the student seating, directing us to which row we’re to sit in. Not like it matters, we all have our names written on a card that we hand to someone to read.
Once we are all seated, various teachers stand at the podium and share positive words for the future. I choose to ignore their words. The only reason I agreed to do this whole ceremony bullshit is the end result I hope to receive. A trip home to Florida.
The ceremony passes with nothing monumental occurring. When it ends, I walk into a room where we get our actual diploma. The second it is in my hands, elation courses through me. This small rectangle of paper is my ticket back to Cora. My ticket home.
Although we haven’t spoken in close to two years, I hope she will forgive me. When I stopped answering her letters, calls and texts, my intention was to do what was best for her, since I had no way to see her. To let her go.
But after that letter and those drawings she sent me, I am nervous as hell about how she will react to seeing me again. I went about things a shitty way, but what else was I supposed to do? We were in a fucked-up situation and I thought what I was doing would mend it all somehow.
But I was wrong. Dead wrong.
I walk out of the back and go in search of my parents. They stand outside, waiting for me with giant smiles plastered on their faces. After a handful of photos are taken, we head to the car and drive to a restaurant for my graduation dinner. In the car, they reminisce over the ceremony and how nice it was. I stare out the window and pray it won’t be much longer before I don’t see this skyline again.
Once we order food and my parents express their unwavering excitement, I mentally prepare to ask the question I have been waiting to ask for the past two years. Asking is going to burst the joy bubble they are trapped in, but I don’t care. My bubble hasn’t held joy since I was forced to leave Florida and step foot in this state.
“Mom? Dad? Can we talk about me moving back to Florida?” Straight forward and to the point. No need to beat around the bush. A man on a mission.
Mom tips her head to the side as a frown takes residence on her lips. Dad doesn’t move, his expression stoic. Their lack of communication says more than any words ever will. The silence tells me the trip I have longed to make won’t be happening. But I refuse to believe it until I hear the actual words. Until they tell me I cannot go.
“Gavin—” Mom starts, but pauses to look at Dad for silent support “—I would love nothing more than for you to be where you want to be. But things have been really tight for us financially. And right now, we just don’t have the money to fly you to Florida.”
I fucking knew this would happen. Knew it. As soon as we got here, I should have gone to every store and restaurant and applied for a job. Bagboy, stocker, cashier, busboy. Anything. If I had, maybe I would have more than enough money by now to leave. But I was so wrapped up in throwing a pity party for myself, I didn’t do shit.
Fuck my life.
“So there’s nothing we can do? Didn’t you have some college fund for me? If so, cash it in. I have zero plans to go to college, especially here.”
“Son, I wish it were that simple,” Dad chimes in. “We did have a college fund for you, but we had to cash it in shortly after we moved here. Things have been a little tougher than we suspected. I’m sorry.”
You have got to be fucking kidding me. Not only can I not go back to Florida, but college isn’t even an option. I may not have wanted to attend college, but they banked on my not mentioning it. Score one for the parentals. Zero for the child. Fucking bullshit.
“Wow. I don’t know how to respond to any of this. You both knew my plans after graduation. How could you not say anything to me? You could’ve suggested I go out and get a job. If only for three or four months. At least I’d have money to fly home.”
“This is home, Gavin,” Mom says.
“This has never been home, Mom. You know it just as much as I do,” I snap.
“Don’t speak that way to your mother,” Dad states, his voice sharp and stern. “We have had to make tough decisions for our family and I wouldn’t change a single one. You may not have liked our choices. You may not like your life here. But you will respect us.”
Wow. Just wow. So does respect only go one way? The parents deserve it, but their children don’t? What sort of asinine bullshit is that? Yes, I was underage when we moved and didn’t have a say in the matter. I accept it. But to purposely hide this… I am done.
“Sorry, Mom. Sorry, Dad,” I seethe. “I respect you. This just fucking sucks! And I can’t help but wonder why neither of you said a damn word to me sooner. Oh, I know,” I say, holding up a finger and firmly pressing my lips together. “Because you knew this would be my reaction, that’s why. Fucking bullshit.”
“Watch your mouth, Gavin,” Dad snaps.
I shake my head. “It’s a little late for that, Dad. You forget, I’m an adult. Like you never swore when you were younger.”
Mom and Dad go silent on the opposite side of the table, shutting down the conversation. Our server delivers the food a minute later, but I don’t eat a bite. Instead, I open up the photos on my phone and scroll through the folder marked “C+G.” With each swipe, my throat swells and the back of my eyes sting.
Fuck.
There is one singular thing I have wanted for the last two years. One thing that provided purpose and gave me hope. To go home to Cora. To see her beautiful face cupped between my hands again. Listen to her laughter as I tickle her in that spot under her ribs only I know about. Wrap my arms around her waist and draw her close to my body as we lay on the couch and watch Lord of the Rings for the hundredth time.
