“Did you know that lesbian, gay, and bisexual people are three times more likely to commit suicide than heterosexuals?”

    I did know that. I also know that I don’t need a pop-up ad telling me this, on my ancient 2013 Dell Inspiron that still manages to work, somehow. I haven’t bought a new laptop, despite numerous offers from my mom, I guess it’s because I see myself in my laptop: just barely getting by, a little out of style, but hey, it’s reliable, hasn’t failed me yet.

    The pop-up ad was an unnecessary reminder of the life that I’m living, that just doesn’t seem to fit me.  I’ve known I was gay for a while, well not a while, maybe a couple of weeks now; is a few weeks considered a while? I couldn’t help but ponder the implications of the statement “a while,” but my wonder could’ve served a better purpose: homework, studying for that bio test tomorrow, or making dinner.  

    As if my mom had read my mind, she shouts from the kitchen,

    “Michael, Dinner!”

    “Coming!” I yell back.

    I carefully shut down, and place my laptop on my nightstand, as to not disturb the archaic glass giant. I make a run for the dining room. My mother always makes really elaborate meals for the first month of school, and since it’s only my third week of junior year, my mom is trying to be on her A-game. The scent of chicken that wafted throughout the house grew stronger as I approached the dining room.

    My mom had already set the table before I could even offer; she was very diligently placing last minute garnishes over the feast she concocted for tonight:cornish hens, string beans, and roasted potatoes. As with every night, it’s just my mom and I, sitting at a table way too big for just the two of us. I know that she could feel it too. Lonely.

    “How was your day at school?” The question my mom would ask me everyday, without fail. At least she’s asking right?

    “It was fine.” I’ve never had much to say. My mother would never persist with questions, my “fine” was good enough for the both of us. We sit in silence. It’s not awkward; this is our normal. I help clean up the table, and then go back to the confines of the four dull, beige walls that make up my room. Back in my room, I decided to put my time to good use and study for that bio test. But, the only thing that was on my mind was telling my mom that I’m gay. That thought plagued my mind, yet I went back to studying.

    The next day the bio test was a breeze. I guess I did retain some information from studying last night. I text my mom to tell her the good news, with new found confidence from the conquered test I thought that tonight I would tell my mom. We text and plan to meet after school at Starbucks. At lunch I tell all my friends,

“Today’s the day, I’m finally going to tell my mom!”

My friend Alessandra showed nothing but support for the idea.

“I think that’s a great idea, Michael!” she exclaimed.

The eighth period bell rings promptly at 2:01pm. I make a dash for my car and drive to the starbucks where my mother and I were meeting. Anxiety begins to fester inside me, it’s not a feeling of butterflies, just pure terror. I knew that the outcome would turn out okay, it had to, but my aversion to confronting my fears could not be greater.

I’m almost at the Starbucks, five minutes away. I hear the bing of my phone. I got a text. I look over to my cupholder and check who texted. It’s Alessandra,

“Did you tell your mom you’re gay yet lol.”

The sound of horns rang in my ear as a massive truck slammed into the side of my car. My car flipped over, slid into a fire hydrant, and came to a halt. My life slowly drained from my body as I lay inside my car lifeless.

Two police officers approached me as I sat waiting for my son to meet me at Starbucks. I didn’t think anything of his tardiness, as he is always running late. That was when they told me. Just down the street he had been hit and was killed.

My body turns cold, the life drains out of me instantaneously. The two officers lead me to the scene of the accident. His body had already been taken away. I walk over and analyze every detail of the scene, sketching every minute detail into my brain. I needed to remember this, I don’t want to forget this. I see Michael’s phone lying face down on the sidewalk next to a fire hydrant. I walk over and pick up his phone, I see he has a text. It’s from his friend Alessandra. It says,

“Did you tell your mom you’re gay yet lol”.

I begin to cry and my vision goes blurry as tears fill my eyes.