The Salvation Of Her

3 Words

Tessa

3 words.

6 letters.

They were right there, on the tip of my tongue, ready to fall from my lips. Saying them would change everything.

They would be a claiming of the life I'd wanted for longer than I could remember. A life I'd spent my nights, dreaming of and my days wishing for. All I had to do was say them.

It's not that hard, I told myself. Just say them.

3 words. 6 letters.

What are you so scared of?

My subconscious urged me on-wards and for once in my life, I listened to the desires that hummed through my veins and warmed my chest.

I had to do this.

"What's wrong, honey? You've barely touched your dinner. I made your favorite."

Feeling the soft pressure of my mom's hand on my shoulder, I turn my head towards her wide, concern ridden gaze.

Oh, Mama.

Please don't hate me.

There wasn't any one reason why I'd kept these feelings inside.

But watching as my mothers eyes glazed over with worry, I knew this was one of them. She was my mom. Losing her... I didn't know how to face that. She was my best friend, my confidant and my partner in crime growing up. Even after I packed up my life and left for college a few hours away from home, she'd remained a constant in my life.

I never had a night where I didn't call her to tell her about my day and how my classes were going. She was always there for me, even if we weren't together.

If she couldn't forgive me for who I was, who I knew I'd always been, I wouldn't only lose my mom.

I'd lose my best friend.

Tears filled my eyes and ducking my head, I let them fall in hopes that my family was too busy enjoying moms delicious meal to notice them.

"I..."

I was a coward.

"Can I talk to you in the living room after we eat?"

Her brown eyes assessed me for long moments before she simply nodded and pressed her fingers to the apple of my cheek, the confusion in her face evident across her soft, pale features.

She was Polish and had given me my pale, almost ghost white skin.

She was so beautifully and kind, bright and happy.

What if my truth took that away from her?

What if she could never look at me with the love I saw in her eyes right then?

What if I lost her love?

When a much larger, rougher hand clasped mine, I turned my head to rest against his chest, knowing the worst part of all of this would be telling him. My daddy was a pastor at our church and brought me up to love God, over all else. He'd taught me that serving him and living a good and pure life would grant me all my wishes, my dreams for my future. He didn't think I was interested in dating, because I'd never brought it up growing up.

If only he knew who I'd wanted to date, I would have been in a catholic school uniform before I could even blink.

He was a good man. He loved us so much, so deeply.

But he was a man that wore the cloth and the teachings he followed were the law of the land, in his eyes.

There was no defying them.

There was no sin.

There was faith, loyalty and the bible.

Anything else would be a disappointment.

Like I was.

"I love you, Tessie."

I blinked away the stinging in my eyes before lifting my head towards my dads deep, soothing voice and pressing a kiss against his cheek.

"Me, too Dad."

I didn't say what I wanted to say to him, what I should have said.

I didn't tell him my secret.

Instead, I turned away from the man that had raised me and chewed on food I didn't taste, drinking juice that had no flavor keeping a mask of indifference over my face so no one saw what I was truly feeling.

Fear.