I Ain't Gay! Chapter 2
Copyright 2013 by Heather Rose Brown

In this chapter, Tanner experiences a nightmarish example of his parent's' over-enthusiastic support of his unacknowledged homosexuality before he meets Mel ... who may or may not be the girl of his dreams.
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My nose twitched at all the dust I was kicking up as I walked down a long, unlit hallway. In the distance I noticed a wedge of light under one of the doors. As I got closer to that door, I started hearing short bursts of mechanical sounds.

The whirring noise stopped when I reached the door and knocked on it. I was blinded for a moment by a bright light when the door swung open, and nearly tripped when someone grabbed my hand and pulled me forward.

Once my eyes adjusted, I realized I was in my mom’s sewing room, with Mom standing in front of me. Even though I wasn’t sure exactly why, something seemed weird about the hallway I’d been in and the room I was in now. “What’s going on?” I asked.

“Oh, I’ve been working on a new outfit for you,” Mom said as she held up a huge triangle made of shiny, hot-pink fabric. “Why don’t you try it on so I can see if it fits?”

While I was trying to think of a polite way of telling her there was no way I’d wear such a bizarre outfit, I heard my dad bellow, “There you are!”

I turned around and saw Dad trying to drag an enormous rainbow flag through the door. I ran through half a dozen questions before I finally asked, “What the heck are you doing?”

He looked slightly hurt as he said, “Is that any way of thanking your old man for bringing you a present?”

Even though I felt bad for upsetting him, I still asked, “What am I gonna do with a giant rainbow flag?”

The flag seemed to have caught on something, and he started pulling harder on it. “Well, I thought you could put it in your room," he said as he grunted with effort. "Maybe you could hang it on a wall, or something like that.”

It suddenly came loose and flew through the air ... directly at me. The whole thing thumped into my chest and knocked me flat on my back.

Once my lungs started working again, I tried shouting for help. Unfortunately, there was too much cloth in my face, and all that came out was a muffled grunt.

Pushing back a minor case of claustrophobia, I squirmed around until I was on my hands and knees. I decided to try tunneling under the material in front of me, but that plan was cut short when I smacked my head into something painfully solid.

Going backwards worked better, even though I couldn’t see where I was going. As I crawled along, the air started getting more breathable, and the cloth went from rough and scratchy to soft and fuzzy.

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When I pulled my head out from a pile of covers, I heard a girl say, “Good morning, sleepyhead.”

I found myself in a tiny room, made even tinier by all the junk piled up against the walls. I looked behind me and saw a tall girl near the foot of my bed shoving a large box across the floor. It was at that exact moment I became aware of how my crawling had pulled my shirt up to my ribs. I quickly pulled it down, feeling my face getting warm as I said, “Uhhh ... g’morning. Who are you?”

The girl’s long brown ponytail slipped off her shoulder as she stood up. “I’m Melissa,” she said, then smiled as she added, “but you can call me Mel if you’d like.”

“Nice to meet you, Mel,” I said, feeling proud of how I’d managed to make complete sentences while talking to such a pretty girl. I decided giving talking to girls another try and asked, "What you doing?"

Mel grunted as she lifted one of the smaller boxes. "Just getting supplies for your uncle."

Even though she didn't seem to be having any trouble with the box, my knight-in-shining-armor genes kicked in, and I asked, "Need any help with that?"

"I'm okay," she said, then nodded at a battered wooden crate and added, " but if you could get the tools there, it'd save me a trip."

I pulled my shirt down some more as I stood up and said, "Sure!" Wishing I'd worn pajama bottoms, I carefully crouched down and grabbed the handles. That's when I realized the crate had other ideas about being moved.

"I'm sorry," Mel said, sounding like she was trying to not laugh. "I forgot how heavy that was."

"It's okay," I said as I struggled to stand. "I think I got it."

"You sure? It's really no problem coming back for it."

I shifted my grip to get a better hold, then smiled at her and said, "I'm good. Where's this gotta go?"

"In the studio ... on the other side of the house." She gave me a worried look and asked, "Sure you'll be okay carrying it that far?"

"Oh yeah," I said, hoping I sounded more confident than I felt. "Just lead the way!"

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I was doing pretty good when we walked out to the hallway, but started feeling shaky as we passed through the dining room. By the time we made it to the living room, my arms were about ready to fall off.

At almost the exact moment the crate started slipping out of my fingers, Uncle Barry came through the double doors at the far end of the room and caught my burden before it crushed my toes. As he tucked the crate under an arm, he said, "I cleared the table in the back of the studio and set up something breakfasty." He took the box from Mel with a little more effort, then said, "Why don't you two get something to eat while I get these set up on the main work table?"

Even though the shirt I was wearing covered all the important bits, I still felt half naked around Mel, and was tempted to go back and get changed. That idea was vetoed by my stomach when the scent of strawberries and warm pastries wafted through the doorway Uncle Barry had walked back though.

My stomach gurgled as I followed Mel into the next room, but I was pretty sure it was less to do with hunger and more about having breakfast with her while trying to not come across as a complete idiot.