World Cup [larry stylinson a.u.]

51.0

THE SOBBING

I tell the tourist I need a moment because I really do need a moment. I want him to be by my side when I talk to my parents, especially with my dad, but right now, I need to be alone so I can think, so I can analyze what is going on. My life is about to change and I’m not only saying it to make it sound more dramatic, it really is about to completely change forever and not knowing what the outcome will be, only makes me more anxious.

I know about my mom, I mean, I’m not absolutely sure but I know she’ll end up accepting me in the end. She is my mother for God’s sake. But my dad is another story, my dad is a complete different thing. I sigh. I sigh deeply again, and again, and again. And I walk in circles. If I were a smoker, I’d be smoking like crazy right now but, luckily, I don’t smoke. What will happen? I need to know.

I wish I could press a button to go forward in time, so I could see what will happen and then come back to this exact instant so I could feel braver about this, but something like that would never exist, at least for now. Life sucks.

A last deep breath of courage and I grab my phone to make the call. Here we go. It looks like I’m finally taking that huge step I’ve always been scared to take. Coming out. No, wait. First, I need to pee. If I’m coming out to my parents, I need it to be perfect and, in order for it to be perfect, I need to have an empty bladder.

I walk to the bathroom, wishing to find the tourist making out with the hottie when I walk in. That would mean that there’s no need to come out because I’d be alone and… straight again. Just kidding, the mere thought kills me. I need to stop trying to find an excuse. This will, no matter what occurs, happen right now.

After finishing the emptying of my bladder, I wash my face with cold water. I stop for a few seconds to stare at my own reflection; I need to memorize what I looked like back when I wasn’t openly gay. Will I start saying Aw all the time after today? Hopefully nothing changes. I start the walk to exit the bathroom when I hear someone sobbing inside one of the toilets.

“It’s everything alright in there?” I ask. Not that I care about people in general, I just need excuses to delay the moment. Nobody answers but I can still hear the sobs, “Hello?”

“Get the hell out,” an Irish accent yells at me.

“Are you crying in there?” I try to hide the smirk on my face.

“No, I just… got the flu,” he obviously lies. What a fag.

“Are you sure?”

“Can you stop bothering me?” he barks.

“I’m pretty sure you were crying,” I decide to keep on bothering him, just for fun.

“And I’m pretty sure you are going to get punched if you don’t leave me alone right now,” he opens the door, making a huge effort to avoid the eye contact. But, since I’m such a great detective, I notice how swollen his eyes are and how ridiculously red his faces looks. The bottom fairy was definitely crying.

“All good?” I ignore his rudeness but he doesn’t give me an answer. All I hear is a long and heavy sigh. “Do you miss home or something?”

“What the hell?” he frowns at me, “I wouldn’t be crying if I missed home.”

“I once cried because I missed my house,” I ramble.

“I’m not as gay or pathetic as you are,” he fakes a laugh.

“I was 8.”

“Yeah, right,” he exits the bathroom and I follow him. “Why are you following me?”