Chasing Imperfection (Chasing Series 2) (26 page)

    
It was our third day in Marbella. Blake left fo
r the Middle East the other day which left us with Toby.
Luce was supposed to arrive yesterday but moved it back when she learned Blake was going to be in town Saturday.  She promised to fly with him.

  
Toby was utterly miserable and was drunk on a nightly basis. All he does
is
blabber about his life and complain about Lucy. Sometimes lovingly but most times he wasn’t so kind
and forgiving
.

     We just finished our lunch on the terrace overlooking the magnificent Mediterranean Sea. The
ten bedroom
villa
with tennis court, enormous pool and a helipad
was
purely
breathtaking. It was Spanish
architecture
meets cool contemporary
. There was a lot of glass and open space. The deep purple bougainvillea certainly made this sprawling dreamy house
even
more enchanting.

     “
Your
therapist should be here in a few minutes
,” I told Chad
.
“
Are you ready babe?”
I eyed
his frowning face.

    
“
No
—
but it is what it is. My last chance—what could go wrong? I hope this helps me.
Will
you go with
me as an emotional support? It would
help
a great deal.”

    “
It
isn’t your last chance
,
hon. It’
s all up to you if you want it to be or not. If you
wish
me to be
there
then
who am I
to say no to my
best
gay
friend?”
I squeezed his shoulders to give him assurance.

    
Dr. Lauren Murray
was in her mid-
sixties
and had lovely crop
ped
,
salt-and-pepper
hair. Her eyes would crinkle on the sides every time she
smiled (a good sign). Her warm brown eyes made
me
feel instantly right at home. Chad looked a bit relieved.

     After she finished with the basics, she started to probe Chad. “Let’s start with your childhood. How was it growing up with devoted Christian parents and being an only child?”

     “It was okay I guess. Sometimes I would get pangs of jealousy when I
saw
other kids play with their siblings but my parents didn’t want another child. They said it was too much for them. One kid was perfect they said. I think they put too much hope in me because I was the
ir
only kid.”

     I sat quietly looking at Chad and held his hand for encouragement.

     “Did that hope turn into pressure?”

     “
Yes, it definitely did. If my grades were not stellar, they would make me study another hour or two before I could eat dinner. There was constant pressure for me to be perfect. They wanted me to join and help out our church and I did. I did all they asked of me….until I realized that there was something different about me.”

     Dr. Murray listened intently and nodded her head indicating for him to go on.

     “The bible states that
a
union is between a man and a woman. I think I was around seven or nine—I’m not so sure but it was around that age. I was a boy and I didn’t find any of the girls I knew cute…this was the age
when
boys my age would scope out girls and blush around them—but I didn’t feel of that. The only time I blushed was when I saw Jack Meyers. That got me thinking but I didn’t voice it out to anyone. I knew even at a young age my parents wouldn’t be pleased about that.

     So, I went on with keeping it a secret. When middle school rolled in, my choices in music and clothing geared towards poppy female items. Music wise, I
was an avid Madonna and Cindy Lauper fan. My clothing
was
flashy and fashionable and boys my age noticed the difference. The bullying started in eighth grade and lasted throughout high school. My locker would be spray painted with the word ‘FAG
,
’ ‘GAY
,
’ ‘SINNER’ and ‘HOMO
.
’ It happened on a
n almost
daily basis so I got used to it. In our small
community, everyone knew I was indeed gay but no one ever mentioned this to my parents.
P
eople avoided it like it was the big elephant in the room. People from school stayed clear out of me. They thought being close to me would get them a disease or something. So, I was pretty much alone most of the time.

     During senior year, I went home late
one time
because I
was so
engrossed with my photography project that I didn’t realize it was already almost six at night. I remembered rushing to the parking hoping my parents wouldn’t give me crap about being tardy for dinner. The parking lot was littered with
the school football team. They just
ended
practice and
were
about to go home as well. One of them hooted and they all started calling me names. They waited for me to respond or show any reaction but I didn’t and kept on walking towards my car. Before I reached the handle of my car door, I was slammed so hard against it that my car window shattered. The impact made me lose consc
iousness. When I woke up, I was la
ying
face
-down
on the gravel naked and had profane words written all over my body
and a plastic bottle stuck inside my ass
. I dragged my aching body to the nearest fountain and rubbed off the
marks
from my face and arms. I didn’t bother about my legs and chest because I
could scrub it off once I go
t in the shower.

     When I got home, my parents
gave
me hell for being late and irresponsible. I didn’t
argue
with them because they wouldn’t understand. Once I was in the shower, I bawled my eyes out and asked God why he made me this way,
why he
made me gay. If he loved me, why would he put me in so much anguish and suffering?

     The thought of moving far away occurred to me that night. I chose London because it was in another continent and they accept
my
kind more openly. I mean they allow same sex marriage, what could go wrong?
The minute I left home, I felt free and the opportunities were endless, I was euphoric. For five years my life started to mold and took form in London. I learned to accept myself and started to love what I am. It was not about God’s hate why I
am
gay. There was no point in blaming things that
were
out of my
control
. I realized that the whole point of my existence was to
simply accept myself for what I am.
And I did
—until my parents called me
after they learned
of my
“
secret.
”

     The things they said
were
beyond
what
I could take. At one point, I almost convinced myself that their opinions didn’t matter an inch. But it did, deep in my heart, it frustratingly did. The only solace was to get drunk and get high on drugs. It worked for awhile and my constant gambling helped distract me
from
my life. The last call from my mother broke the camel’s back. Every bubble of feelings I had from back home resurfaced with two-horned vengeance. I was drowning but couldn’t
tell
anyone what I was going through. The night I decided to finish my life
I had a moment of clarity and
I felt at peace
. It seemed to make sense then….that the only thing that could take away this burning pain and agony was to end my life. It was the perfect answer and I took it with joy.”

     My tears were flowing freely and I wasn’t even bothered by it. Chad’s frightening story made me angry at his parents for not protecting him—for
not
accepting him.

     “I am saddened to learn you think that ending your life was the answer to your problem. How did it feel when you woke up and realized that
your
attempt at suicide didn’t succeed?”

     “I was angry at first. But when I saw all of my friends looking sad and bereft, it dawned on me that I didn’t want to see them like that because of me. I didn’t even stop for a second to think about how they would feel or how they would take it. I was so bitter and full of my own emotional battle that it was hard to see past it.”

     “So, you’re saying your friends are the reason why you want to live again?”

     “Yes and no. I mean I love them all. The past few wee
ks showed how much they love
and support me. I’ve never had that,
ever
. The feeling of being loved for
who
I am
overcame
everything else. I t
hought
if they believed in me
, why couldn’t I put that much faith in getting better? If my parents didn’t accept
me
then
there wasn’t much I could do about it.
But my friends
—my own small family—
did
and I couldn’t let them down again. I mean I survived the bullying in high school, why can’t I survive this one? I
had to dig deep and pulled out my ‘grown-up man suit’ and simply face life again….even if
I will be screaming ‘fuck you’ to
life….but at least I have to start somewhere.”

     “That’s a great optimistic outlook, Chad. I’m happy that you see how much your friends love you. You’re a very lucky man to have great friends. Others aren’t quite as lucky.”

     “I know and I’m very grateful for that.”

17

Sienna

     “How does it make you feel listening to Chad speak about his past, Sienna?”
H
er shrewd eyes landed on me.

     “I feel awful and have no words to describe how
much I feel—I
feel
so much at this moment
. I mean, when I met him the first time, he was so vibrant and so full of life.
Hearing how he was being bullied in school and still survived the way he did…
he’s
remarkably brave. I don’t know what I would’ve done if it happened to me.”

     “What drew you
together? I’m assuming you are close friends, best of friends
perhaps
?”

     “Best of friends, we have our love for dancing in common and that’s where we met.  My parents died at an early age—so we connected somehow with his lack of parental support. I have insurmountable guilt from the moment I learned of his suicide. I was so caught up with my own turmoil that I didn’
t see how bad it was for him
.”

     “I understand that feeling
,
my dear but it wasn’t your fault. You must realize that.”
I nodded not knowing what to say.

     “Tell me more about your background if you don’t mind, Sienna? I want to understand the depth of your connection with Chad and why he chose
you
to be here for him and not anyone else. From what I gathered earlier, there are five of you in this group of friends but Chad
chose
you.”