General Relativity (168/?)
anonymous
January 1 2011, 17:21:33 UTC
CSLXXVIII. It Rotates Exceedingly Slowly in the Plane of the Orbit and in the Sense of the Orbital Motion
In middle school, Matthew started having slightly weird dreams about Kiku’s older brother, who was both prettier than most girls and prone to laughing at how cute Matthew was in curls. Matthew wanted to wrap his fingers in his hair. He wanted to kiss him like the way his parents did when they thought no one was looking.
When Matthew realized his sexuality had opted to be the only unique thing about him, he spent two whole days being smothered by his comforter and two of his father’s quilts. It wasn’t that he was ashamed or even especially surprised about being gay. Years of ignoring girls’ skirts and kissing games gone sour were sort of telling. He simply felt, when faced with a world that wasn’t likely to be as easy going about it as he was, outnumbered. He wanted to stay in his cocoon of clean linen and veggie snack packs forever. He wanted, as he always had, to hide. To be invisible.
His parents indulged him for a little while. But by the third morning, they’d had enough of taking orange juice in to him and petting his messy hair. “You know,” his father said, touching the slope of Matthew’s back like it might crack in two, “whatever it is that’s scaring you so, I bet I can give it what-for.”
“You can’t give the whole world what-for, Dad,” sighed Matthew. “It’s too busy giving me what-for right now.”
“Oh, so it’s that. Sorry to tell you, but the world gives everyone what-for.”
That wasn’t entirely right (or wrong). Matthew thought about it and reread page 64 of Oliver Twist, when Oliver was running away from the workshop of the undertaker in the dead of night and his friend, Dick, caught him before leaving to impart a kiss. He traced the words inked black onto the page: The blessing was from a young child’s lips, but it was the first that Oliver had ever heard invoked upon his head; and through the struggles and sufferings, and troubles and changes, of his after life, he never once forgot it.
Matthew wished he had someone to give him a blessing. He went back to the middle school on Monday with a new layer of protections (hunched shoulders, furtive and uneasy smiles) and wondered if he would ever feel safe again.
In middle school, Matthew started having slightly weird dreams about Kiku’s older brother, who was both prettier than most girls and prone to laughing at how cute Matthew was in curls. Matthew wanted to wrap his fingers in his hair. He wanted to kiss him like the way his parents did when they thought no one was looking.
When Matthew realized his sexuality had opted to be the only unique thing about him, he spent two whole days being smothered by his comforter and two of his father’s quilts. It wasn’t that he was ashamed or even especially surprised about being gay. Years of ignoring girls’ skirts and kissing games gone sour were sort of telling. He simply felt, when faced with a world that wasn’t likely to be as easy going about it as he was, outnumbered. He wanted to stay in his cocoon of clean linen and veggie snack packs forever. He wanted, as he always had, to hide. To be invisible.
His parents indulged him for a little while. But by the third morning, they’d had enough of taking orange juice in to him and petting his messy hair. “You know,” his father said, touching the slope of Matthew’s back like it might crack in two, “whatever it is that’s scaring you so, I bet I can give it what-for.”
“You can’t give the whole world what-for, Dad,” sighed Matthew. “It’s too busy giving me what-for right now.”
“Oh, so it’s that. Sorry to tell you, but the world gives everyone what-for.”
That wasn’t entirely right (or wrong). Matthew thought about it and reread page 64 of Oliver Twist, when Oliver was running away from the workshop of the undertaker in the dead of night and his friend, Dick, caught him before leaving to impart a kiss. He traced the words inked black onto the page: The blessing was from a young child’s lips, but it was the first that Oliver had ever heard invoked upon his head; and through the struggles and sufferings, and troubles and changes, of his after life, he never once forgot it.
Matthew wished he had someone to give him a blessing. He went back to the middle school on Monday with a new layer of protections (hunched shoulders, furtive and uneasy smiles) and wondered if he would ever feel safe again.
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