Sebastian

Sebastian

            After a week of being home I awoke to the blissful noise of the kitchen faucet as it drenched the dishes in its path, I slid out of my brothers twin bed, not wanting to stand for fear that if I stood up I would be forced to face the day. I crawled on my belly trying to avoid the sun beam and pushed the door shut with my index finger as it made a loud slam. I let out a sigh and tried to spin back around crawling back to the bed which for the past week had become my safe haven. I was half way back in bed when the door was pushed open with great force as I turned back to look one eye half shut, hair half wavy which curled at the ends, missing a sock and ass in mid air there she stood. My mother, she stood in the middle of the door frame as her statuesque body that seemed to command attention with every inch of  her 5'6" small framed body, as if to demand the seriousness of her energy. She stood firm with her arms crossed across her chest, her hair was as dark as winters Cole her eyes as brown as chest nuts which seemed to magnify the light brown freckles across the nose that we both shared and her skin which I had always admired to the flawless nature with its perfect hue of brown, her lips were clenched as she forced the words, "Get out of bed" through her teeth. "I'm not ready" as I said in mid yawn as I slithered back under the sheets. With a swift step the blankets were ripped off of me as I turned to my side with my knees to my chest and yelled, "I'M TIRED!!!! GET OUT!!!" as my mom turned to walk out still holding the sheets she turned and said, "I get it, I understand what it feels like to have the rug pulled from underneath you in mid step." as I sat up and looked at her I could see the hurt in her eyes as she herself being newly separated from my father she too was starting over. "You have to keep walking, you might stumble here and there, the most important thing is to stand back up dust yourself off and never let anyone think they got you down." I turned back in bed and pressed my face against my pillow, "You don't understand mom." as I let the tears slide down my face.  How I wanted to tell her everything but I couldn't I was so ashamed and confused about the whole situation. I thought college would magically turn me into an adult but I failed to realize that with an adult life came adult problems. "Well I'm here whenever you want to talk." as I still had my back turned to her I could feel the warmth of her hand as it hovered over my back but she never made contact. I feel as though she wanted to show me comfort but struggled to in which she didn't know how. I could hear her picking up my clothes off the floor as she quietly exited the room which was a big difference from when she first entered demanding to be seen she now wanted everything but to be seen. As I sat up I looked out the window wiped my tears out of my newly woken eyes and watched my little brother go higher and higher in the swing and thought to myself how I wanted to go back to simpler time. I watched him push himself out of the swing seat and land on the ground on his knees he underestimated the height that he was at as he began to cry, I could hear my mom yell, "Maybe you should go higher next time."  which made me smile.

            My mom was not a traditional mother that coddled her children. My mother raised us with a stern hand. We were raised to the idea that children should be seen but never heard. We were always well dressed and clean never a dirty spot on our clothes. If we were hurt we were never to cry in the presence of anyone because to quote my mother, "If someone hurts you and you cry they will always know where they could hurt you and will use your weakness to continuously beat you." I remember being young and holding in my cries all day from bullies at school and coming home and going to my bedroom and crying because to cry in front of my mother was not only a sign of weakness it was also a sign of defeat. If we were even in a fight at school my mother had a very clear rule, "Make sure you win, because if you fight in school and you lose not only will you have gotten your ass beat in school but I will beat your ass when you get home." I always made sure to win. I grew up very strict and even though we didn't have the physical affection of love like a hug and or a kiss we knew we were loved and that my mother would do anything for us, she was always our savior and our biggest ally. We were raised to think logically and to meticulously choose every move we made and consider every counter effect that might result in our actions. Which is why I found it so difficult to come out at this particular time in my life. This was before it was considered hip and cool or trendy to be gay there was still a real danger of being gay in society at this point in time. I had to choose my next move carefully, I knew that my next move had to be to continue school. It was the only thing I had at the time that seemed to please everyone. I had promised my grandfather I would finish college and I was set on making him proud of me. As I walked out past all the baby pictures of us in the hallway and the grandfather clock that seemed to tick louder than the chime itself, I watched my mother look out the window at my brother on the swing set. I sat down at the table, "I heard him cry. Is he ok?" I asked in a soft spoken voice. My mother looked back at me then back at my brother, "Yea he is ok, you know him he is a little daredevil. He is the toughest kid I know. I'm going to have my hands full with that one. he's isn't scared of anything... look at him he is hanging upside down on that tree now." I cleared my throat. "I have been thinking, and I think I'm going to enroll in the community college here, what do you think? I was thinking that I could get my AA here until I decide what my next move should be." My mom took a moment and look back at me and said, "I think that's a great idea." as she smiled this warm feeling rushed over my body, it was as if I was searching for her approval the entire time and I felt incomplete until that very moment. 

            The next couple of months I emerged myself in school work continuing the perception of the perfect student that I had at this point became the personification of. Around this time there was a newly popular social networking boom that hit teens and young adults with a great force of intrigue and fascination.  Yes before Facebook, Instagram and Eharmony there was a social networking site called MySpace. This was a social meeting place everyone could create and customize a page to their personality and reach out to people they have never met to create a connection or connect with lost friends. I being a young adult of sorts used this site as most did which was as a speed dating site. Now it was not only to meet guys I used it to post videos of my favorite songs and create a top 10 friends lists. Now I bring this up to shed light on the real reason why this site was so important. It was where I first met SEBASTIAN, behind the veil of cyber space I reached out to this really cute guy who's default picture was of him wearing a blue bandana that was folded across his forehead and on top of that bandana he wore a black hat. My very own Miklo (Blood in Blood out character) Now I know what you must be thinking, "Why would anyone think that was attractive?" but he was... and continues to be so. I was obsessed with him. He was my everything at that time.

            Sebastian lived in Las Vegas which was about 4 hours from Blythe and we would talk every day.  He was my escape from my day to day life and soon he held me captive with his calls, his voice and eventually his arms. I felt completely trapped by him I was his willing captive a participating slave and it felt amazing to feel completely owned to someone I felt as though I was his and he was mine. My very own, my beloved. I felt understood and accepted which could be a more addicting drug then air itself. He was my breath and my will to survive.  It was amazing to find someone who was so comfortable with being gay which for me at that time was such a struggle. Sebastian or Bastian which he was more commonly known as was a genetic phenomenon not only was he beautiful he was undeniably a gift....a gift from GOD or whatever deity you happened to believe in and if there was nothing you believed in Bastian had a way of making you believe in not only yourself but the possibility that there was a higher power, due to the fact that this man could not have been placed here by mistake. He was soft spoken but every breath seemed to glide and dance across the wind and into your ears and every word seemed to be more important than the last. He had an essence about him that made you want to know him more in any capacity that he would allow you in. he was 5'10 and worth every inch I myself only being 5'8 seemed to feel so small in comparison but then again I never felt so protected until I was around him...his hugs seemed to consume you, engulf every inch of every self doubt that you might have had about yourself. His eyes were as blue as a clear sky on an Easter Sunday....I could always find myself in those baby blues, whenever the world seemed dark or unbearable. I knew at the end of the day those eyes could bring me home, I felt safe and comforted by those arms that I seemed to later in life not only search but yearn for . His dirty blonde, brown hair meticulously placed, every strand had a home everything so organized and as perfect as he was. But with the sweets came the sour, or  what I would eventually learn was that not even a strong, perfect man could fix a scared, broken boy.