Well, I decided on what I'm going to call it. I'm going to call it Quadruple Love.
I wrote more, and I feel like posting what I have so far. I'm so excited about this story. I feel like a little kid in a candy store.
Chapter One:
~Welcome To My Family~
My family isn’t like your typical American family. In fact to some people my family is considered an abomination. To me though; it’s just any other ordinary family. Just quadruple the love. You’re probably wondering what sets my family off from every other family. Well, you see I have two mothers and two fathers. Yes, you read right. Two mothers and two fathers. Now you’re probably sitting there, scratching your brain, wondering how something that odd came about. Don’t worry my friends, for I have answers!
Chapter Two:
~My Mom’s Story~
My mother’s name is Susie. Susie Marie Littleton. She’s a thirty-six year old counselor for gay/lesbian/bi/transgender people. She’s eye candy for the men. Almost drool worthy if you saw some of their faces. Even straight woman double taked my mother as she walked by. She’s beautiful. No doubt about that. You could get lost in her eyes. Her beautiful memorizing green eyes. I swear they could put you in a trance.
My mother was brought up in a little conservative town. Every house in the neighborhood had clean paint, and tidy lawns. The neighborhood seemed almost robotic. Everyone glowed with perfection. It be easy to picture every person in that neighborhood to be perfect out in public, and behind closed doors. Everyone except my family that is..
“I will not have some faggot for a son! That’s ludicrous!” snapped my grandfather.
“Well, guess what dad? You do have a fucking faggot for a son! So accept it!” yelled my uncle Frank who then slammed his bedroom door.
My mother had an older brother named Frank. Who’s actually known as Aunt Frankie now. He decided to come out of the closet on his eighteenth birthday. He felt that maybe his family would accept him for who he was. He was wrong though. Very wrong.
My grandparents forced him into going to see a therapist. Thinking that’d change his mind. My grandmother would set up dates for my uncle with girls in town. Just like my mom, my uncle had good looks as well. So it wasn’t very hard to snatch him a date at last minute. My uncle went along with everything his parents forced him to do. He went to every counseling appointment he had, every date his mother set up for him, every football game he had to watch on television with his father. They thought all of that would change my uncle’s sexuality. They were quite ignorant to think that though.
The only person who didn’t alienate my uncle was my mother. She loved my uncle. She’d always go in his room at night and he’d give her advice.
“Stay true to what you are kid. Don’t ever let anyone try to tell you, you’re something you’re not.”
That always confused my mother. Why was he giving her this advice if he couldn’t take it himself?
One night my mom hid in her brother’s closet. She peeked through the crack of the door. He was wearing one of her dresses. It was pink and had ruffles on the bottom. He twirled around in it, giggling like a little girl. He stopped spinning and stared at himself in the mirror. He touched his cheek lightly. He left the room momentarily and came back with what looked like tons of makeup. He applied lipstick to his lips, blush to his cheeks, and eyeshadow to his eyelids.
My mother watched in awe. Then was when she knew her brother was unlike other brothers. She crept out of the closet quietly. She walked over to her dolled up brother and stared at him. He had an ear to ear grin on his face.
“How do I look sis?” he asked smiling.
“You look beautiful.” replied my mother with tears streaming down her cheeks.
She hadn’t seen her brother that happy in a long time. She promised to keep that night a secret. My uncle continued to prance around the house in female attire when his parents weren’t home. He would even make his voice sound like a girls.
Unfortunately I have to stop there, because I have to get ready. I'm going to the beach. This is when I wish I had a laptop. What better place to write a story than on a beach?!
I hope you like it so far!
xoxo,
Britty
