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He rode the bus home, jamming to his music and enjoying the view. He knew it wouldn't be much longer before he had to go home, and face everything there. He really, really didn't want to go home. He tried and tried his hardest to find positive aspects about returning, but it seemed the longer he was there, the less excuses he found. He had to call it his home for now, but even on his happiest, brightest days, it was still just a place of festering misery. Nothing good ever came out of being there, no matter how much he hoped. He just had to accept that he couldn't change anything in his position, so he might as well enjoy even the smallest moments he had to himself. Patton glanced out the window, wincing as he saw the signs in his neighbors' yards. When he first started figuring things out, he was optimistic. He would move out to somewhere nice with wonderful people in a wonderful place, but as he got older, he began coming to terms with everything. There was no escape. There was no hope. All he had was his job at the library, and even that was no fun sometimes. Why him? Why did he have to be like this, all stupid and hopeful all the time? Why could he just be more realistic. The world wasn't going to change for him. If only he could be the person everyone wanted him to, life would be so much easier. But did he want an easier life if it meant supporting such a horrible place? No. No, he didn't. Just existing made him feel like a burden sometimes, but he did know, somewhere, it was helping someone. He leaned his head against the window, emptying it of all the negative things that resided there.
The bus jolted suddenly to a stop, waking Patton up. He was the last stop, so most of the time he got a nap in. He was disappointed too, that was a nice dream he was having. He dreamed everything was perfect, there was no hate or prejudice. It was nice. Patton gathered his things off the seat and made his way up the aisle and out the doors. He trudged up the path to his tiny little house, dreading the moment when he opened up the door. Mother was having her friends over today, and while Patton could usually stand her by herself, but a whole group of them was unbearable.
In their small living room, his mom was sitting with her book club. He did his best not to look at the cover, but it was difficult. Helping the Confused. It was something their pastor had given her, and so of course she shared it on Facebook, which in turn led to more spreading of misinformation. He was really starting to get tired of pretending to be someone else around them, but it's not like he had a choice. He closed the door behind him and tried to go up to his room. "Margaret?" He flinched, as if stung by a bee. There it was. "Margaret, dear, come on down and tell me about your day." He slowly backed down the stairs and faced them, a nervous grin in his face. He waved shyly to the book club, and faced his mom. Tall and thin with auburn hair, Patton was always extremely grateful he got his looks from his dad, who was shorter than average, but also big. His mom stared at him. "Well honestly Margaret, you seem to be getting more like a teenage boy every afternoon. You could at least say hi when you came home." He faltered a bit, but brought himself up enough that he was able to speak. "Sorry mom," he said. "I was just distracted thinking about homework. Um- my day was fine. Nothing exciting happened." This seemed to satisfy her, and she nodded her head. "Alright honey, just try to be more polite when you come in." She and her girlfriends went back to their conversation, and Patton escaped to the comfort of his room.
He wasn't allowed to shut the door completely, but he blocked it with his bookbag. Sometimes having the reputation of being disorganized really helped him stay away from his mom. Shaking slightly, Patton pulled out his homework and attempted to work on it without crying. He hated it. He hated living here, he... disliked his parent, and occasionally it felt like he hated himself. He was trapped, with no one to talk to. He was alone. But he knew he couldn't have a breakdown. Not here. Not now. Pulling himself together for the moment, Patton somehow managed to complete his geometry and science homework. He still had some English to work on, but he would do that tonight as an excuse to stay up here. He couldn't cry, so he did the only other thing he knew how. Imagine, focus towards his goals. Patton took out a notebook and started to write things out.
Neat little houses all in a row.
Poor little duckling with nowhere to go.
"Why can't I go anywhere?" He cried.
"Because you're just confused on the inside."
And then under it, he doodled himself, as how he should look. As how he was supposed to be. He knew he was really no good at poetry, but at least he could draw. He drew himself big and strong and tall, with large chunky pants and a polo shirt, and short, fluffy hair just how he wanted it. That was who he was. Not some transphobic southern cis person like everyone else in town. He kept wishing, hoping, dreaming of leaving as soon as he could, but looking at his drawing now, Patton didn't know if it was possible. Not only leaving the state would be difficult, but just leaving the south would be bad. He'd need a car, money, and a way to shut out his "family" forever. He didn't have any of those things now, let alone in three to five years. Well, maybe the car once college started, but cars need gas, and gas costs money. Without his permission, tears started rolling down his face and soon he was bawling like a baby. Patton curled himself up in the corner between his bed and the wall, hugging a pillow that had fallen. He cried and cried and cried. Did his mother hear him? Hopefully not, it she'd ask what was wrong and he'd have to make up some story which his brain was absolutely not capable of in this moment. He tried to muffle his wails into the pillow, but it didn't work, already his mom was crouched down beside him, trying to ask what was wrong.
Should he tell? It sounded like she cared. Maybe she would care if he told her now, and she could see how much everything was hurting. "I can't help you if you don't talk to me." Her voice sounded sweet, but Patton could hear tones of frustration behind it. No. No, he couldn't. As much a he wanted to come out, he knew it would only end in yelling, crying, and a trip to church. He couldn't say anything, he was crying so hard, so he only shook his head "no." His mother sighed and kissed him on the top of the head. "Alright, Margaret. I'll leave you be. I love you sweetie." She left, and her last sentence lingered around Patton's thoughts like an echo. I love you sweetie. He thought about it for a bit. How much did she love him? Enough to feed him and comfort him, but only if he was someone else. Everyday he felt confident, ready to tell her, but then he got home, and remembered who she was. He hoped somewhere inside her was a good person, and maybe if he came out, so would that good person. But he couldn't do that. He was only fifteen. If things went bad, he'd have nowhere to run to, nowhere to hide. Everyday he was reminded of what people could be like, and yet no one he knew tried to be even the tiniest bit decent. He slowed down the tears for a bit to try and listen to what was going on downstairs. It sounded like people were leaving. Oh, hoped it wasn't his fault. He hoped mother wouldn't get mad.
The idea of her yelling at him now seemed terrifying, like the worst thing in the world. It scared him so bad he started bawling again, and so he had to bury himself in pillows and stuffed animals. He lay there and sobbed. His thoughts were trying to be positive, desperately hoping they could make something good out of this. Well, she just cares for you. Maybe she'll listen. It's okay to cry now, you can come out later. They sometimes annoyed him because he knew they weren't true, but then there were the other ones. The ones he couldn't tell if they were his feelings or the truth. The thoughts like, If she yells at you, it's your own fault. Why were you born like this? Why couldn't you just fit in with everyone else? Being a crybaby isn't going to help you. Those were the kind of thoughts that scared him. He had to leave now. He couldn't listen anymore. So Patton escaped. Hugging one of his favorite plushies, he focused on on his breathing and went to his favorite fantasy.
He was 6'3". He wasn't muscular exactly, but still big. He had fluffy, short hair. He had glasses instead of contacts. And he wasn't alone. He was with someone, he didn't know who exactly, but they were his. And he was theirs. They held hands and walked in the park. Patton towered over them, and when he spoke, his voice was just deep enough. They called him their boyfriend, husband. "My man" is what they said. That's who Patton wanted to be. Someone's guy.
The smell of pasta drifted up the stairs, waking up Patton from his daydream. He sighed, and untangled himself from the surrounding pillows and plushies. If dinner was almost done, that meant he would have to go downstairs and talk to mom. He crept over to the bathroom to go wash his face before the eventual confrontation about his tears. It smelled delicious, which made him feel worse because there was no way to avoid leaving the comfort of his room. Even if he wasn't hungry, even if pasta wasn't his favorite, his mom would still get impatient and upset if he stayed there. After what only felt like a couple moments but was probably closer to a couple minutes, his mom was calling him to come eat. He unhappily trudged down the steps to the dining room where his mother was waiting. "Eat up Margaret. It'll make you feel better." They both sat down and Patton ate his food in silence. "Honestly sweetie, " his mother sighed as she twirled her fork around in the noodles. "You've got to tell me what's been going on. It seems almost everyday now you come home crying, and it's starting to get on my nerves. I cook for you, I clean for you, I buy you things you want, I'm your whole life Margaret." Patton cautiously looked up at his mother's face. Her expression was one of exhaustion and impatience, and it was slightly ticked off. He avoided her gaze and quickly went back down to his food. "I just don't understand dear. I do all these things for you, and you're not even grateful. The least you could for your mother is talk to her. And if for some reason I'm not good enough, you could talk to the Lord." Patton finished chewing and carefully picked out his words. "I'm sorry mom. I um- don't mean to be ungrateful. Um- uh- I really appreciate the things you do for me uh- honestly." He swallowed the lump in his throat and forced himself to keep going. "I just uh- um-" His mind drew a blank as he struggled to find words that would appease his mother. "Just what?" His mom looked at him curiously.
Patton shook his head. "I don't know." He felt small, and his voice was quivering. He kept eating his dinner, unsuccessfully trying to ignore his mother's stoney look. "I just don't know what I'm going to do with you girl." She mumbled. "Go get the mail when you've cleaned your plate. Patton nodded his head. It didn't take him very long, and right after he washed his dishes and put them in the washer, he went for the mail. Sometimes being outside felt more dangerous than being inside. When he was inside with his mom, he could at least predict her moves a little bit. Outside was completely random though, like how sometimes neighbors were walking down the street would complement him or try to have a conversation. Today he couldn't see anyone out other than him, so he took his time and shuffled through the mail. Most of it was junk and bills, but then he was caught off guard by the last letter in the group. It was a letter from his dad.
Patton didn't really know why his parents split up, it happened when he was young, and mother forbade any talk about him. Patton wondered how he got their address. Should he tell mom or should he keep it? He was awfully curious to hear what his dad had to say, but what if he was actually a horrible person like how mom made him out to be? "MARGARET, COME ON!" His mom stuck her head out the half-open door, and Patton jumped dropping the mail. He could hear his mom's disgusted sigh as she closed the door. He was taking to long, she might come out and yell at him in front of the whole street. He didn't want to be yelled at. Panicking, Patton shoved the letter in his pocket where it couldn't be seen and quickly rushed back inside.
He handed his mother everything else, and after she dismissed him with a thank you, he ran back up to his room to see what his dad had to say. It started off in a fashion that seemed sad.
Savanah,
It's been a long time since you've spoken to me, and I wanted to know how you've been doing. I want to know how our baby girl is doing. Why won't you let me see my Peggy?
But then it got worse.
I've done a lot of great things since you left me, and I think you'd be proud. I want to see Peggy, I want to take her to all these wonderful places the Lord has shown me over the years.
Then it was pictures of him voting for people who wanted Patton dead, going to their speeches, donating to their websites.
His heart plummeted.
He was really hoping to have at least one good parent, but that just wasn't how it turned out. He sighed, and stared at the letter in his hands. He didn't feel like crying, he was just...disappointed. His mind was just stuck in a loop. He hoped something good would happen, it didn't. He dwelled on things that could never change, and felt powerless, when an opportunity showed up, and then it started all over again. He was so lost in his disappointment, he didn't hear his mother walking up the stairs and into his room. "What is this?" She asked furiously, ripping the letter from his hands. Patton looked up helplessly into her eyes as she shook it in front of him. "WHAT IS THIS MARGARET?" Patton nervously swallowed and tried to back away as he tried to sputter out an answer. "Uh-um...It's a...it's a letter from uh- Dad..." Her face was raging with fury and she tore the note into tiny little bits. Patton wasn't sorry to see that, but he was worried that he might be torn up next. "And, WHY, exactly did you decide not to share this with me?" She crossed her arms expectantly. "I just wanted to see what he was like. I'm sorry Mother." His voice came out barely above a whisper, and he squeaked at the sight of his mother lunging over. She grabbed him by the collar and pulled him close. "Listen to me," she hissed into his face. "Don't you ever have anything to do with your father, do you understand me?" Patton nodded as fast as he could "Yes, yes, I understand, I'm sorry I'm sorry." She left him go and drew back, picking up the pieces of the letter of the floor. "Finish your homework Margaret. And I don't want to hear a single thing about this in the morning, you hear me?" He nodded again, clutching his hands tightly.
He had done something wrong, he had hidden things from his mother and he had gotten yelled at. He tried to do something he wasn't supposed to and faced the consequences. The consequences were scary. He couldn't come out, not now or ever. If she had reacted like this, how would she react to him being something she thought was a mental illness? He scrunched up his face to hide from everything out there. His tear ducts were empty for today, but Patton still gave small, dry sobs. He sat down at his desk, and waited to calm down so he could finish that English that he had set aside earlier.
~
The car bounced up and down as it rolled across the bumpy road. They lived in an old neighborhood, and so most of the streets needed some new asphalt. Patton sighed as he held onto the plate of cookies his mother had made for church. This was going to be a fun day, he could already tell. Trying to just survive, he nervously tried to be as friendly and as polite as he could to everyone, especially his mother's friends. They scared him, mostly because they were like his mother, but if they didn't like him or suspected something, they'd tell her right away. After some brief chatting, they say down and the sermon began. Most of the time it wasn't great, considering the people, but today it was worse. And it was going to keep getting worse. Political nonsense about everything happening.
At the end of it, before they were about to leave, Patton asked his mother is he could go talk to Pastor John. She was pretty surprised, since he tended to shy away from other people at church, but he could still see the pride in her eyes. He wanted his mother to be proud of him, for who he was and what he was good at, but if she was proud of him... because he was starting to act like everyone else... what did that say about him? Was he buying into these made-up stories, or had he lost? No. He couldn't lose, not yet. His question was about his safety, not because he went along with it. He had to stay hopeful. Even if it wasn't much. Even if it was just a fantasy that only appeared through tears, he had to hope. He couldn't become just another bigot in the world.
"Um- sir?" Patton wasn't exactly sure how to refer to the intimidating man towering over him, but he could at least try to be polite. "Oh, hello there, Margaret. You're Savanah's daughter, right?" Son. Patton thought to himself. He nodded uncertainly. "Uh...yea- yeah. Can I uh- ask you something?" He was practically shaking, he was so scared. The answer could mean life or death, how he answered could be life or death. But he had to ask. He had to know. "What- uh- what do you think about uh...trans people? Someone at school mentioned them and um- I wanted to know your thoughts on them..." He watched the foreboding character think about it, terrified. It was a brave thing to ask, Patton knew, but it could also be a really stupid question too. They might find out. They might send him some place, or kick him out. Patton still wasn't sure if he believed the Bible or not, but right now he prayed that his question wouldn't be thought about twice. "Well, God created you, he created me, he created everything. He makes no mistakes. So these...trans people... in saying that they are not who they were when they were born...are saying he was wrong. The truth is Margaret, these people are just confused, and they need the Lord to show them the way. So if you're at school, and you meet somebody who says they are 'trans' tell them about our little church, okay?" Patton nodded. He was pretty crushed to know that real people actually thought this way, but he wasn't surprised. He said a small thank you and went back to his mom. She gave him a curious look, but didn't say anything. They got in the car, and started driving home.
"You know Margaret, I really hope you listened to everything said today. Pastor John made some very good points." His mom smiled and looked at Patton in a way that made him feel gross inside. He wanted to cry, and explain to his mom that no, they were all wrong and no, trans people were not confused, they were real people who deserved rights just like everyone else. He didn't do that though. For once, he manged to control his emotions, and answer her. "Um- yeah. That's what I was talking to him about." His mom reached over and squeezed his hand. "I'm real proud of you today, Margaret. You're finally starting to become a real member of this community." Yup. That's me. The closeted trans member of a bigoted community. He weakly smiled back and leaned his head in the window. His mom turned on the radio, and Patton watched the familiar sights roll by as they passed. But then they went completely past the entrance to their neighborhood. Oh no. Were they going to see one of his mother's friends? Was it another after church activity? What was happening? "Where uh- where are we going mom?" He tried to keep his voice as nonchalant as possible, so she wouldn't notice the fear. She turned down the radio. "Oh, I just wanted to check out the new books at the library, see if there are any good ones." Patton's heart skipped a beat. It was just the library. They might run into someone his mother knew, but it wasn't a big deal.
The library was one of the only places he felt safe in town. Even though he knew he wasn't really safe, the library was cozy and quiet. He could just drink his hot chocolate and doodle while his mom went to one of her clubs. It itself was small, but it had one or two extra rooms in the back for things like PTA meetings and whatnot. They arrived shortly, and his mom parked close to the entrance.
He browsed the new books, but really Patton was only interested in the cookbooks. Not that he didn't like other books, there were some really interesting things he had found here, sometimes though, it was just hard to understand what was going on. Besides, cooking was fun! A glare of purple caught his attention, and Patton looked down to see a shiny new cover glaring at him. Oh no. Mother's going to have a fit if she sees this. It was called The Truth About the T, and something Patton had been wanting to read eventually, even if he couldn't now. He could see his mom was still browsing, so he went ahead to go to her before she came to him. "Could you not find anything you liked?" His mother asked, rummaging through the mysteries. Patton nodded, and gave a quick glance back to the book. "Not really. I didn't see anything that was really up your alley either, so um- we can leave now if you want." "Nonsense Margaret." She gave him a smile and started walking over there any way. "You know I like to try new things..." Her voice faded out as Patton's heart began to hurt. It was about to start. As if it was in slow motion, he watched his mom turn the corner, smack dab into the new book. He watched her eyes grow as big as dinner plates, he watched her grab the book and stomp over to the front desk. She was yelling now, perhaps even screaming. It all felt muffled to Patton. He wanted to shut it out, he wanted to shut out the hate, and open his eyes to a new, kinder world. His mom was tugging him by the arm now, marching them both to the car.
"Goodness!" She slammed the car door shut and buckled in her seat belt, smoke practically pouring out of her ears. His mother gripped the wheel tightly as Patton cautiously got in after her. "Is everything- um- are you okay?" She sighed and looked at him, fuming. "Margaret. I-I know things have been a bit rough around here lately...but...I want to make it very clear that you are not check out any books without me reviewing them first. I know you didn't get snared this time, but there might come a time when you accidentally get strung up in their lies...I honestly can't believe public libraries carry around books like that, where any child could find it.." Patton didn't know what to do except agree and nod his head. He could propose the idea that anyone could find it, and that by that argument, technically children could find things that were actually not appropriate for them. He was tired of this, tired of not being able to be himself and help others like him, but what else could he do except play pretend?
~
The bright screen burned into his eyes, giving him a headache. He slumped over the desk engraved with doodles from previous years. As he scrolled through website after website, he only got more tired. His mom suggested looking at some big colleges this weekend, just as a step ahead, but Patton knew he would never apply for the ones she recommended. He had a tab open just in case she came in, but he didn't think it would be a big a deal as others. He could just say he wanted some backups or something similar. There were some pretty neat options out there though, and some were good enough he thought they might be able to help him get out forever, if the opportunity ever came.
"Margaret? How's it going honey?" His mom came in, if course with no knock, and he answered as pleasantly as he could manage. It just seemed as if he didn't have the energy today, after such a long week. "Um- it's going fine, Mom. I've been looking at a couple you didn't suggest- y'know just as a Plan B type deal, but- uh, I'm definitely thinking that your ideas will be my first options." Her eyes flickered to the screen and then back to him. "Well," she started, in a tone of voice that suggested a lecture was about to commence. "I'm glad you're thinking ahead about Plan B's, but Margaret, you could've just asked me for more options. You have no idea how safe these other colleges are just by looking at them. I have friends who do. Trust me on this Margaret, I know what I'm talking about." Patton nodded, and let her take control of the keyboard. He wondered if it was even possible to escape her, but was escape the right word to use? Somewhere inside him, it seemed like his mind was constantly fighting. There was what he actually knew what was going on, and then how he felt about what was going on. Right now, he knew he'd have to leave his mom at some point if he ever wanted to be himself, but on the other hand, he felt like maybe she would change, maybe one day she could love him for who he was. It exhausted him, he wished there was just a simple answer.
~
His heart was pounding as he sat at his desk, listening, waiting for his mom to pull out of the driveway. This was one of those rare times he didn't get taken along with her, where he could have some time by himself without having to constantly be afraid of her coming up the stairs. The sound of the motor drifted off, and after a minute or two, he leaped to the window to see if it was safe. It looked like it. No cars. No mothers. He felt a pang of guilt hit him in the stomach. She was his mom, and yet somehow her absence always made him feel better. He knew it was only cause he didn't like the yelling, but he still felt ashamed. Shouldn't he at least try to love her, even if she didn't really love him? Right now though, he had the house to himself, he could do what he wanted. But what exactly did he want to do? All the opportunity was overwhelming him a bit. He could try baking, there was a new recipe he wanted to try...but something could go wrong with the oven. His mom might get upset if he were to be unsafe. He'd better not. Eventually, after just standing in his room, trying to decide what to do, Patton settled on doodling in his bed while listening to musicals. He didn't get to do that a lot, not really because his mom didn't like musicals, but rather she didn't like the musicals he liked. Patton suspected there was only one she actually liked, even though she claimed she liked others. He doodled lots of little frogs everywhere. He wasn't sure why, but Patton just felt like drawing frogs. He was in a frog mood. After drawing a bunch of small ones, he decided maybe he should do a big one. Patton watched a the pencil slowly drew an angry little frog head that attached to...a rather buff body. He started giggling, it was just so silly. And it was a nice feeling too, to laugh. He couldn't remember the last time he'd genuinely laughed out loud. In fact, he was giggling so hard he didn't hear his mother pull back into the driveway.
The door closing startled him, and his giggling subsided almost immediately. He peeked down the hallway and watched as his mom sat down some groceries. "Was that you laughing, Margaret?" Looking back towards his drawings, he was able to crack a grin. "Yeah! Do you, uh, need help?" He trotted down the stairs, trying to make himself useful before mother got angry or called him lazy. "That would be wonderful dear, could you unload these bags while I get some other stuff?" She was actually much nicer than Patton expected her to be. After the library incident she'd been fuming, constantly getting irritated at him. Maybe things were looking up, maybe she had gotten over it. He sorted the stuff out of the bags while humming, wary of his mom, but not completely scared. This could actually end up to be a better day.
For the most part, it was pretty alright. His mother was calm and let him hang out in his room while she did her own things, and so he kept doodling his funny frogs, if only to keep him giggling. He was laughing to himself as he drew a rather Kermit-esque frog, when his mother abruptly popped in. "Margaret?" Quickly closing his sketchbook, Patton looked up at her, in full attention. "Can you help me clean downstairs? I just need you to wipe down the kitchen." He nodded and grabbed a rag from her hand. As they were cleaning, she gossiped about the town, her friends, and of course, him. "So, about your...giggling..." Something in her tone was off, so he avoided eye contact and focused on a really irritating spot. "Is it because there's a...boy?" He internally gave a sigh of relief. It was just that. The question came around every couple months, and the answer was always no. "Um- no, Mom. I was just laughing at some drawings I made. There's no boy." "Oh." She was disappointed, he could tell, but there wasn't another answer he could give.
He moved on to the island, and his mother's phone buzzed. She glanced at it, then at Patton, and then back to her phone again. He shakily stopped cleaning. "Is something wrong?" Oh, please don't let be the pastor, please don't be about me. His mom grinned. "Nothing's wrong, my friend Amelia just sent me a text of her daughter's new dress. Apparently there's a dance coming up?" Oh no. He shrugged, trying to act like it wasn't a big deal. "Um- yeah. I didn't say anything cause I wasn't really planning on going...um..." He returned to the counter top, dreading what would be coming next. "Margaret, it could be fun! You could dress up and maybe make some friends! It could be an opportunity to step out of your shell for once." Patton didn't want to go to the dance. He'd have to wear some dress his mom picked out, he'd have to have his hair done, she might even try to put makeup on him, and it wouldn't even be fun. The music would be too loud and there would be too many people. He shook his head. "No thanks. I'd uh- I'd rather stay home." "Margaret...," she sighed. "It will be good for you. I think you should go." His mom wasn't going to budge on this one. She let him off of chore duty to go search for something to wear, and he obeyed. Arguing would get him nowhere.
Without letting her see, he wiped away the tears that were beginning to form. Being around people was one thing, but having to be around them when too many things were happening was another. He didn't want to go. He just sat at his desk and tried to stifle the sobs. He knew she'd probably make him to go the prom when came time for it, he doubted he could ever get out of that, but this was just some formal the student committee voted on. It wasn't even themed. Of course she had to find out and make him go, of course she did. Once he was free, once he moved out, he could go to any dance he wanted, and he could wear the clothes he wanted. Only three more years until he turned 18. Only three more years. Then he could go to college and make friends who saw him for who he was. He wouldn't have to doubt himself, he wouldn't have to be afraid every waking moment, he could finally be himself. Only three more years.