The ConfessionalMature


My mother christened me Patrick after the patron Saint of Ireland, he was only sixteen when he was taken too. My father always dreamed that like Patrick I too would follow in his footsteps as the Saint followed in his father and his fathers father to become a priest, but now I am not sure I can hold my head up.

I’ve always been closer to my mom but even that has changed.

I’ve never told anyone this before, but when I was twelve years old my mother took me on a trip for Easter. Out to my Uncle Morty’s cabin, it was a beautiful cabin in the woods, just us, Me, Morty, Mom and Morty’s step-son Alester. It was the first time, but my mother caught us. We were just playing, but man he was a good kisser, that night she took me the next room and beat me across my legs with a curtain rod, we used to get along back then.

Then she changed.

Everything changed! 

Alester was my first love, he had longish blond hair and smelt like sweet ripe manly musk, he was fourteen I was two years younger but matched in intellect. He told me I could kiss him if I wanted to and that if he wanted to he might kiss me back. He wanted to show me his arms and he took off his shirt... I was taken by his beauty. I had seen him before he was kind of instant family after Morty married his mom and we had hung out a lot in the past two years but I had never felt like this before… he made me flush with excitement and slight embarrassment with those words “just touch them it won’t hurt” he was starting puberty and I had not yet. Over the summer he grew three inches and his arms were stringy but defined. I kissed him that weekend and his lips were a found treasure. Like most things that bring happiness it was short lived. We still talk but not about that, he has a girlfriend now, she’s three years older that him I don’t think he remembers what happened or cares about how it made me feel.

My Mother was my guiding light and I think that light has long since faded, I am alone. I should know that love never binds those who take it for granted, all love is conditional, and my life is made up of these moments. Total happiness leads to loss and grief.

It took three months before my mother would talk to me again, we never really talk but now what’s going to happen? 

The End

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