Chapter 1
The alarm clock sounded at 4:45am, just as it always did. Lindsey pulled himself out of bed and turned it off quickly, wiping the sleep from his eyes. He stood slowly, half stretching and stumbled to the closet where he blindly grabbed a shirt and pair of pants, knowing good and well that they were black. Lindsey's job required him to wear a uniform consisting of a black shirt and black pants. It also required him to work seven days a week normally. After working there for almost a year now, Lindsey no longer owned “civilian clothes” as he liked to call them. He just didn’t see a point in spending his hard earned money on clothes that he would never get a chance to wear.
He dressed in the bathroom and then brushed his teeth with the new electric toothbrush that his fiancé had purchased for him earlier in the week. He didn’t see what was wrong with his old, normal toothbrush. He didn’t use the electric part anyways, there was just something unsettling to him about sticking a bulky piece of plastic in his mouth that vibrated and it would just cost more money to keep replacing the batteries.
Lindsey rinsed out the waste of money and placed it back in its designated decorative holder, grabbing the Clearasil out of the cabinet simultaneously. Working in a kitchen everyday sure did play hell on the pores. As he scrubbed away, he thought of the 1,200 Haitian missionaries who would be lined up at 7:30 ready to eat. The bacon and sausage had already been pulled the night before so it would just need to be thrown in the oven. But there were still the scrambled eggs to cook, the bread to toast, and the pancakes to heat up. Lindsey searched his brain trying to remember the lunch menu.
“Stroganoff!” he mumbled absent-mindedly as he worked the paste from his nose to his eyebrows. As he closed his eyes and tried to count the cases of egg noodles that he hoped were still in the dry storage room a thought crossed his mind and his stomach sank. What would he do if someone called out today? His boss was still on vacation until the end of the week so she would be no help, not that she ever was. Temps? The temp service hated it when he put in work orders at the last minute, but what other choice did he have?
He washed the remaining lather off of his face, noticing the various spots near the bottom of the mirror from water splashing out of the sink, and toothpaste and other various forms of bathroom scum. He would have to remember to clean it when he got
The alarm clock sounded at 4:45am, just as it always did. Lindsey pulled himself out of bed and turned it off quickly, wiping the sleep from his eyes. He stood slowly, half stretching and stumbled to the closet where he blindly grabbed a shirt and pair of pants, knowing good and well that they were black. Lindsey's job required him to wear a uniform consisting of a black shirt and black pants. It also required him to work seven days a week normally. After working there for almost a year now, Lindsey no longer owned “civilian clothes” as he liked to call them. He just didn’t see a point in spending his hard earned money on clothes that he would never get a chance to wear.
He dressed in the bathroom and then brushed his teeth with the new electric toothbrush that his fiancé had purchased for him earlier in the week. He didn’t see what was wrong with his old, normal toothbrush. He didn’t use the electric part anyways, there was just something unsettling to him about sticking a bulky piece of plastic in his mouth that vibrated and it would just cost more money to keep replacing the batteries.
Lindsey rinsed out the waste of money and placed it back in its designated decorative holder, grabbing the Clearasil out of the cabinet simultaneously. Working in a kitchen everyday sure did play hell on the pores. As he scrubbed away, he thought of the 1,200 Haitian missionaries who would be lined up at 7:30 ready to eat. The bacon and sausage had already been pulled the night before so it would just need to be thrown in the oven. But there were still the scrambled eggs to cook, the bread to toast, and the pancakes to heat up. Lindsey searched his brain trying to remember the lunch menu.
“Stroganoff!” he mumbled absent-mindedly as he worked the paste from his nose to his eyebrows. As he closed his eyes and tried to count the cases of egg noodles that he hoped were still in the dry storage room a thought crossed his mind and his stomach sank. What would he do if someone called out today? His boss was still on vacation until the end of the week so she would be no help, not that she ever was. Temps? The temp service hated it when he put in work orders at the last minute, but what other choice did he have?
He washed the remaining lather off of his face, noticing the various spots near the bottom of the mirror from water splashing out of the sink, and toothpaste and other various forms of bathroom scum. He would have to remember to clean it when he got
home from work that night. As he finished his analysis of the bathroom mirror, he
looked up and caught his reflection.
Lindsey was mostly pleased with his physical appearance. He had brown hair that sometimes would take on a golden shine in the sunlight, at least it used to when it was longer. Lindsey kept it short now because he just didn’t have the time to do anything with it in the mornings. His features were the definition of average. This is to say, nothing too pointed, nothing too round, nothing too far apart, nor anything too close together. He noticed a little stubble on his face and thought the he would shave tonight before he cleaned the mirror.
The last thing Lindsey noticed in the mirror this morning before busying his mind with the dinner menu were the bags that had formed under his eyes, no doubt a souvenir of the 80 plus hours he had worked each week since summer began. They made him look old, tired... Lindsey was tired, but as for old, he was only 17. He turned from the mirror, trying to keep himself from being depressed this early in the morning. He reached for the towel from the towel rack and discovered that, much like his toothbrush, the towel was new as well. Lindsey sighed, dried his face, flipped off the light, and pulled the door shut, counting cans of corn in his head.
Other than the depressing ritual that transpired in front of the mirror every morning, this was Lindsey’s favorite part of the day. Everything was so calm... so peaceful. Everything was in order. The carpets were freshly vacuumed, the sink was free of dishes; there was a place for everything and everything was in its place. But of course the house was spotless. Lindsey made decent money, at least money enough for his fiancé not to see a need in working. The curtains, the throw rugs, the lingering scent of cinnamon and vanilla... Lindsey’s mind began to spin.
“She has such a great eye for color!” “The kitchen is so... inviting!”
“It always smells so good in here!”
As Lindsey grabbed his keys and stepped out the door, all he could think of were all of the times their families had complimented and praised his fiancé for everything she did, and just how amazing she was. She would blush and thank them and carry on and all Lindsey could do is force a smile, and watch her take credit for everything he had done.
Lindsey was mostly pleased with his physical appearance. He had brown hair that sometimes would take on a golden shine in the sunlight, at least it used to when it was longer. Lindsey kept it short now because he just didn’t have the time to do anything with it in the mornings. His features were the definition of average. This is to say, nothing too pointed, nothing too round, nothing too far apart, nor anything too close together. He noticed a little stubble on his face and thought the he would shave tonight before he cleaned the mirror.
The last thing Lindsey noticed in the mirror this morning before busying his mind with the dinner menu were the bags that had formed under his eyes, no doubt a souvenir of the 80 plus hours he had worked each week since summer began. They made him look old, tired... Lindsey was tired, but as for old, he was only 17. He turned from the mirror, trying to keep himself from being depressed this early in the morning. He reached for the towel from the towel rack and discovered that, much like his toothbrush, the towel was new as well. Lindsey sighed, dried his face, flipped off the light, and pulled the door shut, counting cans of corn in his head.
Other than the depressing ritual that transpired in front of the mirror every morning, this was Lindsey’s favorite part of the day. Everything was so calm... so peaceful. Everything was in order. The carpets were freshly vacuumed, the sink was free of dishes; there was a place for everything and everything was in its place. But of course the house was spotless. Lindsey made decent money, at least money enough for his fiancé not to see a need in working. The curtains, the throw rugs, the lingering scent of cinnamon and vanilla... Lindsey’s mind began to spin.
“She has such a great eye for color!” “The kitchen is so... inviting!”
“It always smells so good in here!”
As Lindsey grabbed his keys and stepped out the door, all he could think of were all of the times their families had complimented and praised his fiancé for everything she did, and just how amazing she was. She would blush and thank them and carry on and all Lindsey could do is force a smile, and watch her take credit for everything he had done.
*****
Ever since he was young, Lindsey had an obsession with how things looked.
By the time he was 12 years old, Lindsey had moved his room around so many times
that the carpet was wavy with wrinkles from where it had let go of the tack strips. But
other than the damaged carpet, his room looked nothing like that of a typical 12 year
old. The bed was always freshly made, the desk was always tidy, and never would
you find a toy kicking around or board game that hadn't been put up. In fact, Lindsey
didn't even own any toys.
What you would find were drawers full of notebook paper and pens, a closet full of binders and a basket full of curtains that Lindsey had made himself out of top sheets from the bed sets he had collected over the years. While everyone else his age was getting high and trying to make it to second base, Lindsey painted. Lindsey read books. Lindsey crocheted. Lindsey wrote poetry. And Lindsey was endlessly ridiculed for it.
As much as he loved to learn and enjoyed the escape from home that public school provided for him, he hated it at the same time. The children were cruel. Lindsey did his best to fit in. He tried to be just like everyone else and to blend into the background unnoticed. But try as he might, he couldn't. He was different, and his peers knew it.
It started in first grade. It was the first week of school and Lindsey and his class were on their way to lunch. The teacher announced that Lindsey would be the line leader and for everyone to form a line behind him. All the kids got up and got in line. They were about to leave the classroom when one little boy raised his hand...
"I don't have to walk like him, do I?"
The teacher responded, "No. Everyone gets to walk their own way. Some people take big steps and some people take small steps but that's ok because we are all different!"
He nodded as if he understood but added, "Good, because he walks like a girl!"
The kids burst into a fit of laughter; everyone but Lindsey. This was the first time someone his age had made him cry, and it was the worst feeling in the world. As the years went on, Lindsey learned to grow thicker skin and to laugh the comments off but it made no difference. Words still hurt, and they just got worse and worse.
"Hey gay boy!"
What you would find were drawers full of notebook paper and pens, a closet full of binders and a basket full of curtains that Lindsey had made himself out of top sheets from the bed sets he had collected over the years. While everyone else his age was getting high and trying to make it to second base, Lindsey painted. Lindsey read books. Lindsey crocheted. Lindsey wrote poetry. And Lindsey was endlessly ridiculed for it.
As much as he loved to learn and enjoyed the escape from home that public school provided for him, he hated it at the same time. The children were cruel. Lindsey did his best to fit in. He tried to be just like everyone else and to blend into the background unnoticed. But try as he might, he couldn't. He was different, and his peers knew it.
It started in first grade. It was the first week of school and Lindsey and his class were on their way to lunch. The teacher announced that Lindsey would be the line leader and for everyone to form a line behind him. All the kids got up and got in line. They were about to leave the classroom when one little boy raised his hand...
"I don't have to walk like him, do I?"
The teacher responded, "No. Everyone gets to walk their own way. Some people take big steps and some people take small steps but that's ok because we are all different!"
He nodded as if he understood but added, "Good, because he walks like a girl!"
The kids burst into a fit of laughter; everyone but Lindsey. This was the first time someone his age had made him cry, and it was the worst feeling in the world. As the years went on, Lindsey learned to grow thicker skin and to laugh the comments off but it made no difference. Words still hurt, and they just got worse and worse.
"Hey gay boy!"
"What up faggot?"
"Why don't you go sit with the girls you little queer?"
So Lindsey remained alone. He had nobody. Even when people were kind he just couldn't let them in. How could he possibly trust them? What if they were just waiting for his walls to come down so that they could hurt him again? Lindsey couldn't risk it.
And what if they found out that he actually was gay.
***
I made two videos about this "story". Check them out below!
"Why don't you go sit with the girls you little queer?"
So Lindsey remained alone. He had nobody. Even when people were kind he just couldn't let them in. How could he possibly trust them? What if they were just waiting for his walls to come down so that they could hurt him again? Lindsey couldn't risk it.
And what if they found out that he actually was gay.
***
I made two videos about this "story". Check them out below!
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