Observe- True stories, tall tales, and complete lies by Marcusito

Warning: A collection of true, slightly exaggerated, and totally made up tales.

Previous Entry Share Next Entry
Mortimer : Part 1 Meeting

For all I cared Mortimer could have had missing teeth, a foul odor, embarrassingly strong features. He could have been one of those freakishly thin kids in the high school, who constantly shiver because they don't have the adequate body fat to stay warm. He could have been those morbidly obese kids whose wardrobe only consisted of sports clothing, because that material tends to stretch. But no, he was none of those things. He was handsome in a way that was a bit too mature for him. He had a pencil thin goatee that framed his pink full lips. He kept his hair very short, almost bald but not quite. He was afraid that if he were to shave it all off, his head would get too cold and he would get sick; as if it made a difference. He was a big guy, naturally built, his physique would normally intimidate those who weren't aware of his nature. His voice was very deep, so low that it was difficult to understand him at times. Today, he would be a total catch for those who find such attributes to be appealing. But none of those things really mattered to me. He was my friend, more like a brother.

We first met in elementary school, 6th grade to be exact. His parents moved to our small town from clear across the state. I heard the girls whisper when he came into the room for the first time, giving him suggestive smiles. He seemed not to notice. I stared at him as well, not because I shared the same feeling as the girls. I was pretty asexual at that point. What I did have was a curiosity for anything new. I wanted to get to know him, before one of the horrible popular students sucked him into one of the mean cliques.

After school, I notice that he was walking the same route I took to go home. I introduced myself and told him that we were in the same class. He told me that he recognized me and noticed that I was staring at him. I was taken a bit back. For a brief moment, I didn't know what to say. I never had a gift for small talk. He sensed my discomfort and decided to break the awkwardness:

    • Are you part Arabic or something?

    • No, I'm African-American. I guess you can still say black. Either way, I prefer to be called Marcus.

He laughed loudly, so annoyingly that I could have sworn it was an act. Nobody ever understood my humor. So I didn't think he did.

    • I guess its your eyes. And your nose is straight and pointy. Most Black people have a big, round nose...

    • Sort of like yours?

Now it was his turn to feel awkward.

    • Well, I'm not Black though. I'm Dominican!

    • Oh good for you. Your mother must be very proud.

    • Are you talking about my mom?

He didn't seem as angry as he did hurt.

    • No, I'm not talking about your mother. I mentioned her while making a point that you seem to think that being Dominican somehow exempts you from having any African heritage which you clearly have.

He stopped and looked at me. I don't think he's ever had anybody speak to him in such a manner.

    • Well, yeah I mean... I guess there's some Black somewhere in my family. But I'm different. My people are different.

    • Yes, we're all different in the ways we think are important.

    • You're like a nerd, right?

    • Yes, totally. I am also different. (I said different with a mocking tone.)

I expected a “go to Hell” or a “fuck you” but instead he began his loud, fake sounding laugh again.

    • You're an asshole. I like that. Do you like video games?

    • Have you forgotten that I'm a nerd?

With that, I was at Mortimer's house playing video games. His parents were nice, but very traditional. As soon as I walked in the door, his mother made me call my mother to let her know where I was at. She also invited my mother over for coffee so they could get to know each other.

    • I am sure that you come from a good family considering how well-dressed and polite you are.

The only response I had was a “thank you.” Mortimer and I played videogames for a few hours and then I left to go home for dinner. He asked for my phone number before I walked out of his bedroom. We were pretty much friends after that. He was eventually sucked into one of the popular cliques but our friendship remained intact. I wasn't the most popular kid but I was well-liked by the others. Mainly because, I wasn't too horrible at sports and everybody thought I wore nice clothes. So Mortimer being seen with me wasn't a social foul.

He was soon known around the school and the neighborhood as the “gentle giant.” He was about the same size as some adults at the age of 12. But he wasn't at all a bully. He came from a “please and thank you” family and it showed. The only time he would get violent is when somebody messed with one of his friends; which I found out very soon.

Halfway through the school year, I decided to come out in an interesting fashion. We were studying health (sexual reproduction to be exact) and the teacher, like most elementary school teachers, was teaching us in a generalized way. She kept repeating the words “you”and “all” throughout the entire lesson. I was clearly bored. While Mortimer had the reputation of being very polite and a bit timid. I had the reputation of being polite as well, but also blunt. Even today, I don't understand why Mrs. Johnston decided to ask me the following question:

    • Marcus, what is the best way the start a family? Have children and get married or get married and then have children?

    • I don't think neither is great.

The teacher gave me a look that communicated that she was very tired and wasn't about to put up with my bullshit. She should have let me be but she continued:

    • What makes you say that? You don't want to get married and have a big family when you are older?

    • Well, not quite. First of all, marriage is like a contract that guarantees two people will enjoy maybe two years of true happiness and by the third year or so, things change completely. Either the wife or husband.... well usually the husband, will get bored and long for the single life again. Maybe because he never really believed in the idea of marriage in the first place but bought into it because that's what everybody told him he was supposed to do. The wife, because of that, will have to endure years of infidelity and some form of abuse. Usually emotional... sometimes physical. But it really doesn't make a difference to me, I will never get married.

    • Come on, Marcus. (nervous laugh) Everybody wants to get married. One day you will settle down with a lovely lady and start a family.

    • Nah, I don't really think that's going to happen. (brief pause) Every boy in this classroom is talking about which girl that they like. Except me. I don't think I like the girls in this class, not even in this school. I'm not saying that I like any guy at the school, but I am sure in the future I will like one.

There was an uncomfortable hush in the room. Similar to the hush that comes after somebody farts loudly in class, but this was worse. The stench of my words was much stronger. The teacher's mouth was hanging open as whispers began to increase in volume. The teacher had no choice but to pretend to ignore my words and continue the lesson.

My mother was called that night by the school counselor. The counselor stated that she was concerned about me and was wondering if something was happening at home. My mother assured that everything was fine. However, the counselor insisted that we all meet together with the school principal. The meeting went like this:

My mother and I were called in the office and told to sit and wait for the principal and school counselor. We sat in the room looking at each other. We could hear the principal and counselor bickering back and forth about how to approach the situation. My mother learned towards me, whispering:

    • Are you sure you're not doing this for attention? You can have the BMX bike for your birthday if it's that important to you.

    • Mom, I am sure. I have accepted the fact that you find BMX bikes to be too expensive a long time ago. Maybe it wasn't the best time to accept my sexuality in front of the whole class, but sometimes we discover things out loud.

    • Hmmm... well I told you that I love you either way. Your father is slowly coming around. At least he isn't crying anymore.

    • That's progress.

The principal and the counselor entered the room. They tried to conceal their grave concern with smiles that looked like they were drawn on their faces with a stencil.

    • Mrs. Coles, so great to see you (the counselor speaking).

    • Yes, it's truly a pleasure (the principal chimed in).

    • Likewise, if we could cut to the chase it would be better for all of us. What exactly did my son do?

    • (Principal) Well, he didn't exactly do anything wrong, per se. But he made some comments that concerned us a little.

    • (Mom) If it's about him being gay. I already know about it.

    • (Counselor, condescending) Oh, that's wonderful. You two must have a very close and special relationship.

    • (Me) My mother doesn't smother me. She wants me to be independent. But yes, she loves me. My father does too. He's never laid a finger on me aside from the occasional smack on the rear when I didn't obey. But I wouldn't call that abuse. I would say my homosexuality has more to do with nature rather than nurture or lack thereof, as you are trying to insinuate.

    • (Mom) Boy, the adults are speaking. Hush.

    • (Counselor) Your son is very intelligent. He seems to be very mature for his age. Perhaps, a little too mature.

    • (Mom) He's always been that way. He reads a lot. Can't keep a book out of his hand.

    • (Counselor) Is it OK if we ask Marcus to leave the room for a second?

I left the room and sat in a chair in the hall. I couldn't hear them but I could only guess what they were saying. They probably asked my mom if there was anything strange going on at home, if they have noticed any odd behavior, the typical investigative questions that they're required by law to ask. My mother left the room and was noticeably pissed. She told me that we were going to go home for the day. A social worker dropped by our house and practically interviewed everybody who's ever stepped foot in our home. Of course, they didn't find anything disturbing so they let us be.

When I returned to school, the word pretty much got around. The students looked at me as if I had a permanent booger on my nose. Mortimer however treated me the same as before. We still would walk home together everyday and play video games at my or his house. His mother did keep a closer eye on us when I came to visit. His bedroom door had the stay open the entire time I was there. The kids probably thought that Mortimer and I were doing something but nobody had to guts to say anything. Mortimer resembled an adult and I had the mouth of one. Overall, I didn't have any major problems for outing myself until one day.

Timmy was a kid who went to my school and didn't go to my school. He would show up right before he was in danger of being expelled permanently. He never liked me, yet he contained himself around me. I suppose it was the general respect I had with my classmates. As soon as he caught word about me being a sissy, he felt it was an ample opportunity to express his true feelings. Mortimer had a brief meeting with the teacher after school and I didn't feel like waiting so I set off alone. I saw Timmy standing in the middle of the field. Even from afar, I could see the look of “I got you, motherfucker!” in his eyes. My father always told me that bullies thrive on fear so I continued along my way, as his figure grew with each step. He didn't take his eyes off of me and when he was within arms length of me, I took a side step to pass him.

    • Hey faggot, where do you think you're going?

I suppose all bullies read from the same script. Nobody has ever accused them of being creative. Anyways, I didn't answer and kept walking. As far as I was concerned, he wasn't speaking to me.

    • Don't you ever walk away from me when I'm talkin' to you, queer!

With those sweet words, he hit me. He hit me again, and a third time for good measure. By

the time I hit the ground, I realized I was having a fight. I arose and put myself into a boxer's stance. Just like my father told me to do. I tried to remember have to form a proper fist. He hit me once more, I think harder than the previous times. This was getting serious. A group of children circled around us. He didn't knock me down that time. I stood my ground. Now I was ready to fight. At least, I thought.

Suddenly, Timmy seemed to rise from the ground. At first I thought he was preparing to do some flying attack only possible in movies. But no. I saw Mortimer grabbing Timmy from behind in a bear hug. Mortimer spun around three times and threw Timmy like a discus. It was probably only a few feet but it looked as if he had thrown him miles away from us. And that's how the story would be told from that day on. Once Timmy hit the ground, he got up immediately and started crying. He ran away, choking on his own tears.

    • (Mortimer, rushing to my side) Oh shit, are you OK?

    • (Me, while blood drains out of my nose and lips) Oh me? I'm fine. He barely even touched me. I never been in a fight before.

    • (Mortimer) Yes, I can tell.

We went to my house and the Giant watched me get cleaned up. While my mother washed my wounds, she was cursing the principal out on the telephone. She wasn't much to say the word “motherfucker” but this moment was a glowing exception.

After my mother made me decent, we went inside my room. I turned on the video console, pretending as if nothing happened. Mortimer looked at me with a great sadness on his face.

    • Why did you tell everybody you was gay?

    • I don't know. Do we always need a reason why we do the things we do?

    • Don't start with that 'psycalagual' crap! Just tell me why!

I paused.

    • I read a book once... it was about gay men in their 40's. Interviews. They talked about how many years they had to lie and keep lying so that nobody would find out about them. Most said the lying started in high school. I didn't want to go through that. I rather people know that I'm the queer now instead of dealing with stupid questions like “which girl do you like?” 'which girl are you taking to the prom', none of that. I didn't want to lie to the point of marrying a woman who could never sexually satisfy me in order to maintain an appearance.

    • But you're marking yourself as only one thing. You're more than a gay. And look, nobody is going to want know you now.

    • Only the idiots won't. That way, I'll save myself the trouble of having the weed them out.

    • But you're a good guy, you're my friend... (pauses)

    • And you don't want me to get hurt.

    • Yeah.

    • Well, I am pretty sure as of today nobody will mess with me at least for a few months. They're all afraid of you now. In the meantime, you can teach me how to defend myself.

    • Well, um... OK. We better start soon cuz I won't be around to protect you forever.

    • Yes, I know. Eventually you'll get married and start a family.

To read Part 2 of Mortimer, please click here ----> marcusitod.blogspot.com/


Log in

No account? Create an account