The Recital of Terrance Reed

Chapter Twelve

It has been a little over two weeks since I last talked to Kyle. He hadn't attended school once and missed the final reading study. I wanted to message him for a school inquiry, nothing more. Though, I wish I could say more than just text about school. I have had insomnia since that night, thinking of all the time wasted trying to like Kyle and get him to like me. But I still loved him a lot, a lot. But that book was burned, and all I did was carry on. But that meant I could finish the book, write a report, and finish everything before the deadline. So, I guess having him out of my life is okay.

Ever since that night. Alec and I have been hanging out. He has been making me feel not so alone. He was genuinely a good guy when sober. He supported me ever since Kyle and I broke it off. I feel super grateful for his attention. Even my father approved of him. Saying he was dating material. But I had to explain to him that we were only friends with benefits. And boy, was it hard to explain. It was like trying to speak to a baby in the language of math and algebra. Yet, he was still unable to learn about 'gay hookup culture.'

As winter approached Vancouver, so did my life. Nothing happened that week. Just going to school to see Alec and avoiding the inevitable presence of Dennis. He would go by me and call me "slut" or "no good bitch." But the only good thing was that Tyler, Rachel, and Colleen had stopped hanging out with him and hanging out with me. They all apologized for Dennis's behaviour and shunned him from the group. I loved that they weren't as prideful as Dennis was. And, so, I forgave them, and we all started hanging out in school. Even school has been a bit more chill ever since I averted public opinion of me being an uptight weirdo who is a post-it note on the wall. Now I think they see me as a chill, cool guy. Because some of them would walk by me and say hello to me. Most of them I barely knew. But it felt nice that I was getting a reputation at school. But I still prefer to stay on the sidelines and stick to my close friend group.

As well, life at home has been kind been easy. That wretched blood stain in my parent's room was a ghost now. Even Father's mental health had gotten better again. Only Lina was the only one who was still suffering. Mainly because she had to learn how to cook for herself and do homework for herself. But otherwise, we told her everything about Mother being quadriplegic. She handled it well and asked many questions about life. She said she was sad Mother couldn't move but was glad she was still alive. It was weird to see Lina mature in the last month. It was so fast and uncontrollable. She even looked different from when she was last month. It was weird.

I also have been going to see my mother in the hospital multiple times a day. She has been able to recover considerably, yet she was still unable to move or do anything besides moving her fingers and toes. Father told me they were not concerned for Mother since she could recover fast and quickly. Even the cut on her head had healed; now, it had a fresh, clean scar. I still felt terrible that the scar was a reminder that the scar was the reason why she had quadriplegia. However, they still feared she might be susceptible to respiratory diseases and blood clots from not moving all day. Because even Dad was still paranoid; however, he told me nothing to worry about.

On Friday, after school, I sat at the bedside of my parent's room and stared out the window. Why am I still thinking of Kyle? He was the reason why I was depressed. But yet, I was happy he was gone. Because all it means now is that I can improve who I am and be a stronger person than before. But it was weird to think Kyle has never texted or called anyone in the last two weeks. I even asked Dennis yesterday, and he said no. Then after, he told me to fuck off.

I was starting to worry.

Father walked into his room and dropped a ream of papers. "Jesus, Terrance. You scared me."

"Sorry, Dad," I chuckled slightly.

He picked up the paper, placed them on a pile of unwashed clothes, and approached me. "Why the blue face, Little Mango?"