The Book of David (26 page)

That night I tried to leave the house last month, Tracy ran up to give me a hug. She had tears in her eyes, and just as she kissed me on the cheek, Dad grabbed her and pulled her away from me. I turned on him just as I saw him sort of toss Tracy into the wall, and I lunged for him. I saw him swinging at my head with his other hand. He was holding a beer bottle.

I don't remember anything else.

When I woke up, I was in the hospital. Jon's dad was standing over me. He was the attending physician in the emergency room that night. Mom was there and Tracy. I didn't know it at the time, but Brent and Monica and her mom were in the waiting room with Jon and his mom. My head felt like it had been run over by a tractor trailer, and they kept me pretty doped up on pain meds for a while. I had thirty-four stiches in my head and face where the beer bottle shattered, but the cuts are all healed now, and the scars on my cheek are getting lighter every day.

Dad got sentenced to ninety days in jail and a year of probation. He's doing his time now at county and then goes to a house for violent domestic abuse offenders after that. Dave
Johnson showed up at the hospital before I was even released. He stayed in town for two nights until I got settled back at home. After sitting out the first game of the playoffs that weekend because of my suspension, I played in the conference finals that next weekend. I passed for a personal and school record in that game. ESPN sent a camera crew, and when we won, the whole place exploded.

I wish I could say this whole thing has a happy ending. If it did, maybe I wouldn't be writing in this journal anymore. I don't know. I guess some things never get better. My mom is still crying a lot. Most days I'm pretty sure it's because my dad is in jail and this was not the life she saw for herself. Other days she gets really upset about me going to hang with Jon. I've been taking Tracy with me a lot, just to get her out of the house. Dad has called a couple times and keeps trying to apologize. He tried in court the day I went to testify with Tracy. I'm not sure how that part of this gets better.

Jon's mom invited us over for Christmas dinner, but my mom wouldn't come. She threw a fit when I told her I was going anyway. I can't handle the tears all the time anymore. I can't handle the sermons about how God is angry with me. Stuff like that? I don't think that ever really gets better. I wish I could let my mom and dad borrow my brain for, like, thirty seconds and just see what I see and feel what I feel. I think it would help them understand. Or
maybe not. Maybe they just want to see the world a certain way.

There weren't many presents at my house this morning. Mom has been such a wreck that even getting a tree up was pretty last-minute. I brought Tracy over here to Jon's. I didn't want to leave her there with Mom. I tried to get Mom to come with us, but she told me that I was corrupting my sister and that if I kept going over to Jon's, Tracy would probably wind up being a lesbian—like being gay is a germ you can catch or something when somebody coughs on you. The sad thing is, I don't think Mom even knows what she's scared of anymore.

Monica and her mom and Brent came over to join us at Jon's for Christmas dinner, and then we all helped do the dishes, and everybody else went home. Jon's mom offered to let me and Tracy spend the night if we want to, and I called Mom and told her we were staying over. We'll be sleeping on the couches in the living room, though. Jon's parents are cool with us hanging—or dating? I dunno what we're really calling this. Whatever. They're cool with Jon and me being together, but Jon and I decided we wouldn't push it on sleeping in the same bed at this point. It's been sort of a rough few weeks on everybody.

Right now Jon and Tracy are watching a movie while I write. It's this old Holly Hunter movie called
Home for the Holidays
. Robert Downey Jr. is in it and he's hilarious. He plays the gay brother who comes home for Thanksgiving and has to
deal with all the people in his family. Some of them love him for who he is (like Holly Hunter), and some of them don't. The cool thing is that he doesn't back down from being who he is—this funny, cool, kinda messed-up dude. He loves them without changing who he is or hiding at all.

I'm getting better at that. I'm sitting on the couch, and Jon's head is propped up against one leg and my notebook is balanced on the other. Tracy is cuddled up next to me under a blanket.

I'm not sure if my mom will have the guts to leave my dad. Or to get help. Or to finally go to a PFLAG meeting with Jon's mom. Maybe she'll always think I'm going to hell. Maybe she'll keep making her own hell here on earth with my dad knocking her around. I want to protect her. I want my dad to change. I want to keep Tracy safe. Because of what happened with Dad, she's got a court-appointed social worker who stops by the house once a week to keep an eye on things. I hope my mom will get out of the house before my dad gets out of jail. I hope she'll file for divorce. I don't want Tracy living with him if he's gonna be violent.

But all those things? I can't control a single one of them.

Jon showed me that I can control something: being honest. First with myself, then with the rest of the world. This weird thing happened when I did that: I didn't have anything to hide from anybody anymore. I had no idea how much time and energy that was taking. When you don't have anything to hide,
you don't have to worry about other people telling your secrets.

I have one more semester before I head to California to start at USC, and I'm not going back home. It's easier because I'm eighteen and I can decide where I want to live. Mom isn't happy about it, but I don't care. I can't afford to get injured again. I'm staying at Jon's until school starts. His parents were fine with letting me move in, but Jon and I talked and it feels like a lot of pressure to actually live with his family. Brent talked with Monica's mom, and Ms. Nichols is letting me stay in their guest room starting next semester. At first I was worried that it might be weird living with my ex-girlfriend, but when I was still in the hospital, Monica came in to see me with Brent, and she grabbed my hand and told me that she didn't care who I was dating. She just wanted me to be okay. There's not really a playbook on how to stay friends with your girlfriend once you're dating a dude, but I think we're figuring it out okay.

Jon just got an early acceptance to UCLA. I don't know if we'll survive the rivalry—Bruins versus Trojans is major. All I know for sure is that I'm glad he showed up in first period this year. Sometimes you just need that one person who really sees you—who sees through all the plays you're making and all the fakes you're trying to throw. I realize now that I had a great passing game on the field and off. Jon was the guy who looked through all that and called me out.

The thing about being honest with myself is that it didn't change anybody else. Dad is worried about saving his business when he gets out next month. He'll go right back to drinking. Tyler is still obnoxious and bitter and pretty much a dick. But you know what I don't have to worry about anymore? Him finding out something about me that I don't want him to know—or worse yet, that I haven't admitted to myself.

This is who I am.

Jon surprised me when I got here earlier today. He nudged me and said, “Hey. Looks like there's a present left under the tree.”

There was one tiny box and it had my name on it. I grabbed it and we ran up to his room, where I tore it open. Inside there was a thin silver chain with a mini silver dog tag on it. On the front it said,
ROAR
.

“How'd you know about the roar?” I asked him, grinning.

“I come to the games. I hear you out there in the huddle.”

I snagged an arm around his waist and pulled him toward me. “You make me roar,” I said. He rolled his eyes and laughed. I kissed him lightly on the lips. I tried to go for more, but his mom called up and asked if he could help her in the kitchen.

“Read the other side.” He winked, then headed downstairs.

I flipped the tag over, and etched in tiny script were the words from that song Tracy liked—the one Jon had made me love.

You're the one I always wanted. . . .

It hit me, standing up in Jon's room by myself, staring at those words: I'm sorta like that song. I'm the same tune and the same lyrics, but I'm playing my song in a whole new way, and all of a sudden I don't care about being a hit, because I actually mean something.

I can feel the little dog tag on the necklace under my shirt, resting against my heart. I can feel Jon on one knee and Tracy against my arm and a thousand fears about what the coming days and weeks and months will bring.

But mostly, for the first time in my life, I feel like I don't have anything to hide.

Maybe that's how “it gets better”—not because other people change, but because I do.

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Trained counselors are here to support you 24-7. If you are a young person who is in crisis, feeling suicidal, or in need of a safe and judgment-free place to talk, call the Trevor Lifeline now at 866-488-7386. It's free and confidential.

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and click on “What We Do > Gay-Straight Alliances.

She was a good girl,

living a good life. One night, one party, changed everything.

Read her story in her own words, in the diary she left behind.

She was an athlete

with a bright future. She only wanted to lose a few pounds.

Read her devastating journey in her own words, in the diary she left behind.

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