A Family Outing 

By Elijah Cordura

The First Day 

I sat down at the dining room table, expecting the worst. As I was coming back home from a graduation trip to Big Bear Mountain with my friends, I got a text from my protective older sister: “Be careful, Dad will tell you he knows,” I felt the anxiety rushing through my head. What will he say? Is he mad? Does he still love me? What would my brother think? My friends were all laughing and screaming songs at the top of their lungs because they still had enough air left to scream. My breath was taken away from the moment that message popped up into my eyeline. 

“Don’t freak out, it’s going to be okay. I’m here with you,” another one of my sister’s warnings pops up, this time trying to console the raging anxiety that is filling my head. 

I feel a little air seep into my lungs, but just enough to reply to my friend as she notices that I’m not breathing. “I’m good,” I say to her. She notices the a tear trying not to roll down my face. She quickly caresses my arm and gives me her “I’m gonna ignore this but you’re a really bad liar” face. I let my phone glide up to her hazel-colored eyes, she notices the warnings my sister left me and quickly whispers, “You’re going to be okay. If you need to run at all and make an escape, my house is down the street.” I thank her and tell her I think I’ll be fine, and we do the handshake that we’ve had since we were thirteen years old. 

My other friend drops me off at my house. I take a moment to grab my bags and stall going through the front door. I take a deep breath and turn the doorknob. I am immediately greeted with shouts from my family, as I haven’t seen them in four days. My sister looks at me and gives me a look—one that only I saw. My dad, unaware that I know he’s going to out me to my brother, says, “Go change, we are going out to Korean BBQ.” He doesn’t like Korean BBQ; he always says how much he hates paying a lot of money to go grill your own food. My heart rate rises faster because I know he’s only suggesting this to soften the blow of outing me. Although my mom and sister already know (I’ve told them privately myself) I am still shrouded by this imminent feeling of doom in my chest.

My sister and I are texting each other all the way to the restaurant. My anxiety still rising because I know something is about to happen at dinner. We walk inside, and I’m trying not to let out the biggest scream anyone has ever heard. We start eating, and I’m waiting, waiting, and waiting—but it never comes. The dinner is filled with stories from our childhood that we find funny because we were weird little kids. My mind is slowly forgetting about the reason why I was even scared and anxious in the first place. We arrive home, and everything is as normal as it seems. No one mentioned anything, and I escaped back into my hiding spot, where things don’t try to out you. 

The Next Day 

I woke up as usual, this time a little later because I was so tired from my trip with my friends. Still feeling a little weird from the day before, I try to make myself believe that today would be free of anxiety and scary details about me that my dad would out. 

Walking down the stairs, I noticed my entire family eating sandwiches my dad had made. “Good morning,” he says, mid-spreading the mayo on the bread, “Do you want a sandwich?” 

“Sure,” I say, making my way to my normal seat at the dinner table. The sliding door is open, letting in the sunshine and the chirping birds. Today is peaceful, today is nice, I think to myself as my dad places the sandwich in front of me. 

“I’m just going to say this because I think we all know at this poi-” My body freezes.. Today was supposed to be peaceful, it wasn’t supposed to end like this. I was supposed to let him know when I was ready. “You’re gay!” Those words surround me like water trapping me in a claustrophobic box. My head begins to spin as I look around at my mom, my sister, and my brother, who are all shell-shocked that my dad decided to do it right here, right now. 

The tears are uncontrollable. My brother is the first one to get up and hug me, I feel the warmth of his arms wrapping around me as I sink into him—my brother, the

person I was most afraid to tell. The person who I looked up to and didn’t want to be the annoying little gay brother that he talks badly about with his friends. 

He is then followed up by my dad, who, up until this point, was still talking. He was saying something about how much he loved me and why he was upset that I was so scared to tell him. “I love you, you know that. Why didn’t you tell me?” I was taken aback, I was going to, but you took away my chance by outing me yourself. I wasn’t ready to tell my brother and father just yet; he took that chance from me. 

My father was getting teary-eyed, and my mother and sister already sobbing for me and being relieved that they don’t have to hide it from anyone but themselves anymore. My brother let go of me and said, “You’re always my little brother, I love you.” 

Feeling robbed of a chance, betrayed that I couldn’t tell my entire family in the way that I wanted to, I realized I was probably never going to be ready to tell my brother or my father at that moment. I was never going to be comfortable enough. There was never going to be a right moment, and the anxiety would never be low enough to say the words, “I’m gay” to my family. 

I felt betrayed, but I was still accepted. I realize how lucky I am to say that because I understand that not everyone can. I am still loved, and being gay will never change the way my family thinks of me.

Author Bio

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