Fallon: He always makes me crazy, but now that swim season’s over, I’m forced to be at home more and it’s killing my soul.
Fallon: Swear to God, Booker, I’m going to crash on your couch.
Booker: We have four extra bedrooms, so there’s no need for you to surf the couch. The issue is the fact that your high school is an hour away from my house.
Fallon: I’ll drop out and get my GED.
Ok…not the response I was looking for.
Booker: Let’s table that plan, ok? We need to get you through the next four months without killing dad so you can move on and start college.
Fallon: 3 months and 21 days. And when you say move on, you mean move out. Once I leave this house, I’m not coming back. She’s just as bad as he is, Booker. She goes along with whatever he says, and that's the fucking problem. He’s a bully.
Nothing Fallon’s saying is wrong. But rehashing our toxic family dynamic isn’t going to help.
Booker: You should volunteer.
Fallon: What are you talking about? Did you read what I said?
Booker: Every word. And you’re right. It’s crap. But they’re not changing. And you need to figure out a way to survive the next 3 months and 21 days.
Fallon: ok…
Booker: So I’m thinking you could volunteer somewhere. You need community service hours to graduate, so say it’s part of that.
Fallon: Where? I’m not volunteering at church, B. It’s not a church, it’s a freaking cult and you know it.
Again, my sister is not wrong. But focusing on the inner workings of my parents’ church won’t get us anywhere.
Booker: You’re a fish in the water, Fal. Could you lifeguard? Or teach swimming downtown at the Y? Look into it.
Fallon: It’s actually not a bad idea. I’ll keep you posted. Love you, Book.
Booker: Love you back.
I’m fully awake now, so I grab my laptop and boot it up. I figure now’s as good a time as any to work on the writing assignment that’s due for Psych in two days. Dr. Bergman didn’t have anything posted earlier today, so in class, Ian promised he’d have a prompt posted by tonight and that we could have an extra day to work. I don’t know what’s going on with Dr. Bergman, except that she said in our message she’s dealing with a family emergency and Ian’s pretty much filling in.
Opening my online journal, I read the prompt.
On a scale of 1-10, how comfortable are you with your sexuality? What would make you more comfortable? Do societal perceptions and biases play a role in your answer?
Before I can stop myself, I’m pulling up my chat with Ian. It's been weeks since we texted, but that doesn’t stop me from typing.
Booker: Wow. Way to call a guy out.
Ian: What are you talking about?
Booker: The journal prompt?
Ian: Hang on.
Ian: Shit. I didn’t even see that. Hannah posted it earlier. Honest. Please tell me you know I’d never target you—or anyone—like that.
He’s right, so I take a breath.
Booker: Yeah, I do know that. Sorry for jumping to conclusions. It just caught me off guard. Plus there’s stuff going on with my sister and…I don’t know. I read the prompt and kind of lost my mind.
Ian: I totally get that. Feel free to red flag that one.
