Chasing Imperfection (Chasing Series 2)

by Pamela Ann

  “That’s water under the bridge babe. It is what it is.” Chad would be appalled how things unfolded after he got admitted in the hospital. But I was saving that overloaded chitchat for when he’s settled and happy.

  “Seriously, Sienna… I love you but you can be really dumb and stupid sometimes.”

  What the fuck? Did he really just say that? Grrrr….

  “Excuse me?” I glared at his serious expression.

  “I do love you babygirl, but this man seriously loved you and you let him go. You’re going to cry foul when he finds happiness elsewhere. When you realize how much you need him, he’ll be the one to dump your nicely shaped, beautiful ass.”

  “What do you think, Robert?” Chad asked Blake’s driver. I wanted to kick his scrotum sack right then and there.

  “Err pardon but were you asking my opinion of Ms. Sienna’s bottom, sire?” Hell is a bitch they say. I am beyond red with embarrassment.

  “That too—but her turning down your handsome boss like Blake Knightly didn’t matter.”

  Blake mattered, damn it. Chad just doesn’t get it. But I didn’t want to get riled up when my dear friend is starting to live again. If he thinks my love life is something to be ridiculed at the moment—which it surely is—then I’ll let him have a ball with it. I gave up glaring at Chad!

  “My sire is a lovely chap. You must be a very special woman if the young sire chose you, Ms. Sienna.”

  “Uh…thank you,” I murmured, mortified.

  The trip to Chad’s studio was quick. He basically threw everything in his luggage without bother. It was either he doesn’t care about packing properly or he wants to immediately leave. I’m assuming it’s the latter. Too many ghosts lying around London that he hasn’t exorcised yet.

  When we met the trio at Gatwick, they were rather gloomy and dismal except for Luke. He and Chad got on instantly. They looked like they knew each other for a long time. I’m sure Blake briefed him about Chad and what’s happened. I hoped Luke can talk to him about what he’s going through and can shed a different light on our disheartened man.

  Do all gays go through the same situation about coming out and coming to terms with their sexual identity? I mean it’s hard enough to go through life itself, but add another problem with your sexuality being shunned by your family? That’s a lot to take. I know that parents influence their children from the very start and we, us kids, strive hard to please and make our parents proud of us. Their opinion and approval matter. I suppose some parents are understanding and give their full love and support to those who come out of the closet. But if you come across with parents who are like Chad’s, how can one survive without stripping yourself bare with hurt, pain and rejection?

  We were ushered to a private departure area and boarded Blake’s Gulfstream jet. I took in the luxurious soft-hued interior and was overwhelmed by the blatant opulence of my surroundings.

  Blake certainly rotates in another orbit. I mean there are people who are living comfortably (me) and then there are people who live with all the comfort that wealth can offer (Blake), the great divide. It must be nice to have a private jet at your beck and call.

  I sat next to the glum looking Toby who looked worse for wear. Across from me sat Luke and Chad. Blake was situated on the other opposite side of the plane going through papers and barking out orders on his phone.

  A giggly stewardess greeted Toby and I looked up to check who it was. Well, surprise surprise, if it isn’t the infamous Ivanna—dressed to the nines with what looked like a stewardess uniform and an Hermes scarf stylishly wrapped around her neck.

  “Ivanna, we meet again. What a lovely surprise,” Toby drawled (he sounded so fake).

  “Yes, good to see you too and you as well Sienna.” I gave her a frown/smile. I don’t what that must’ve looked like but that’s what it felt like. When she moved past us and went over to Blake’s, I looked away.

  “You and Luce looked like shit,” Chad observed.

  I glanced over to his poor state. The boyish easy charm was gone. He looked utterly haunted.

  “She broke up with me and I couldn’t do much about it,” Toby quietly admitted with grief.

  “Shut the front door!” Chad exclaimed. “You guys didn’t! I saw her yesterday and she didn’t say a word. What the hell you guys! No one tells me any juice anymore.” Chad pouted and was about to sulk but snapped out of it. He reached for Toby’s hand, “Whatever Lucy’s on, she’ll come out of it soon enough. She loves you hun.”

  “I doubt that, my family did a superb job in slashing my love life to shreds,” he said and focused on work once his laptop came to life.

  Dear God, I hate seeing them like this. Everything was downright depressing. With all this shit storm that we’ve endured, surely there’s a light at the end of the tunnel?

  It was our third day in Marbella. Blake left for the Middle East the other day which left us with Toby. Luce was supposed to arrive yesterday but moved it back when she learned Blake was going to be in town Saturday. She promised to fly with him.

  Toby was utterly miserable and was drunk on a nightly basis. All he does is blabber about his life and complain about Lucy. Sometimes lovingly but most times he wasn’t so kind and forgiving.

  We just finished our lunch on the terrace overlooking the magnificent Mediterranean Sea. The ten bedroom villa with tennis court, enormous pool and a helipad was purely breathtaking. It was Spanish architecture meets cool contemporary. There was a lot of glass and open space. The deep purple bougainvillea certainly made this sprawling dreamy house even more enchanting.

  “Your therapist should be here in a few minutes,” I told Chad. “Are you ready babe?” I eyed his frowning face.

  “No—but it is what it is. My last chance—what could go wrong? I hope this helps me. Will you go with me as an emotional support? It would help a great deal.”

  “It isn’t your last chance, hon. It’s all up to you if you want it to be or not. If you wish me to be there then who am I to say no to my best gay friend?” I squeezed his shoulders to give him assurance.

  Dr. Lauren Murray was in her mid-sixties and had lovely cropped, salt-and-pepper hair. Her eyes would crinkle on the sides every time she smiled (a good sign). Her warm brown eyes made me feel instantly right at home. Chad looked a bit relieved.

  After she finished with the basics, she started to probe Chad. “Let’s start with your childhood. How was it growing up with devoted Christian parents and being an only child?”

  “It was okay I guess. Sometimes I would get pangs of jealousy when I saw other kids play with their siblings but my parents didn’t want another child. They said it was too much for them. One kid was perfect they said. I think they put too much hope in me because I was their only kid.”

  I sat quietly looking at Chad and held his hand for encouragement.

  “Did that hope turn into pressure?”

  “Yes, it definitely did. If my grades were not stellar, they would make me study another hour or two before I could eat dinner. There was constant pressure for me to be perfect. They wanted me to join and help out our church and I did. I did all they asked of me….until I realized that there was something different about me.”

  Dr. Murray listened intently and nodded her head indicating for him to go on.

  “The bible states that a union is between a man and a woman. I think I was around seven or nine—I’m not so sure but it was around that age. I was a boy and I didn’t find any of the girls I knew cute…this was the age when boys my age would scope out girls and blush around them—but I didn’t feel of that. The only time I blushed was when I saw Jack Meyers. That got me thinking but I didn’t voice it out to anyone. I knew even at a young age my parents wouldn’t be pleased about that.

  So, I went on with keeping it a secret. When middle school rolled in, my choices in music and clothing geared towards poppy female items. Music wise, I was an avid Madonna and Cindy Lauper fan. My clothing was flashy and fashionable and boys my age
noticed the difference. The bullying started in eighth grade and lasted throughout high school. My locker would be spray painted with the word ‘FAG,’ ‘GAY,’ ‘SINNER’ and ‘HOMO.’ It happened on an almost daily basis so I got used to it. In our small community, everyone knew I was indeed gay but no one ever mentioned this to my parents. People avoided it like it was the big elephant in the room. People from school stayed clear out of me. They thought being close to me would get them a disease or something. So, I was pretty much alone most of the time.

  During senior year, I went home late one time because I was so engrossed with my photography project that I didn’t realize it was already almost six at night. I remembered rushing to the parking hoping my parents wouldn’t give me crap about being tardy for dinner. The parking lot was littered with the school football team. They just ended practice and were about to go home as well. One of them hooted and they all started calling me names. They waited for me to respond or show any reaction but I didn’t and kept on walking towards my car. Before I reached the handle of my car door, I was slammed so hard against it that my car window shattered. The impact made me lose consciousness. When I woke up, I was laying face-down on the gravel naked and had profane words written all over my body and a plastic bottle stuck inside my ass. I dragged my aching body to the nearest fountain and rubbed off the marks from my face and arms. I didn’t bother about my legs and chest because I could scrub it off once I got in the shower.

  When I got home, my parents gave me hell for being late and irresponsible. I didn’t argue with them because they wouldn’t understand. Once I was in the shower, I bawled my eyes out and asked God why he made me this way, why he made me gay. If he loved me, why would he put me in so much anguish and suffering?

  The thought of moving far away occurred to me that night. I chose London because it was in another continent and they accept my kind more openly. I mean they allow same sex marriage, what could go wrong? The minute I left home, I felt free and the opportunities were endless, I was euphoric. For five years my life started to mold and took form in London. I learned to accept myself and started to love what I am. It was not about God’s hate why I am gay. There was no point in blaming things that were out of my control. I realized that the whole point of my existence was to simply accept myself for what I am. And I did—until my parents called me after they learned of my “secret.”

  The things they said were beyond what I could take. At one point, I almost convinced myself that their opinions didn’t matter an inch. But it did, deep in my heart, it frustratingly did. The only solace was to get drunk and get high on drugs. It worked for awhile and my constant gambling helped distract me from my life. The last call from my mother broke the camel’s back. Every bubble of feelings I had from back home resurfaced with two-horned vengeance. I was drowning but couldn’t tell anyone what I was going through. The night I decided to finish my life I had a moment of clarity and I felt at peace. It seemed to make sense then….that the only thing that could take away this burning pain and agony was to end my life. It was the perfect answer and I took it with joy.”

  My tears were flowing freely and I wasn’t even bothered by it. Chad’s frightening story made me angry at his parents for not protecting him—for not accepting him.

  “I am saddened to learn you think that ending your life was the answer to your problem. How did it feel when you woke up and realized that your attempt at suicide didn’t succeed?”

  “I was angry at first. But when I saw all of my friends looking sad and bereft, it dawned on me that I didn’t want to see them like that because of me. I didn’t even stop for a second to think about how they would feel or how they would take it. I was so bitter and full of my own emotional battle that it was hard to see past it.”

  “So, you’re saying your friends are the reason why you want to live again?”

  “Yes and no. I mean I love them all. The past few weeks showed how much they love and support me. I’ve never had that, ever. The feeling of being loved for who I am overcame everything else. I thought if they believed in me, why couldn’t I put that much faith in getting better? If my parents didn’t accept me then there wasn’t much I could do about it. But my friends—my own small family—did and I couldn’t let them down again. I mean I survived the bullying in high school, why can’t I survive this one? I had to dig deep and pulled out my ‘grown-up man suit’ and simply face life again….even if I will be screaming ‘fuck you’ to life….but at least I have to start somewhere.”

  “That’s a great optimistic outlook, Chad. I’m happy that you see how much your friends love you. You’re a very lucky man to have great friends. Others aren’t quite as lucky.”

  “I know and I’m very grateful for that.”

  17

  Sienna

  “How does it make you feel listening to Chad speak about his past, Sienna?” Her shrewd eyes landed on me.

  “I feel awful and have no words to describe how much I feel—I feel so much at this moment. I mean, when I met him the first time, he was so vibrant and so full of life. Hearing how he was being bullied in school and still survived the way he did…he’s remarkably brave. I don’t know what I would’ve done if it happened to me.”

  “What drew you together? I’m assuming you are close friends, best of friends perhaps?”

  “Best of friends, we have our love for dancing in common and that’s where we met. My parents died at an early age—so we connected somehow with his lack of parental support. I have insurmountable guilt from the moment I learned of his suicide. I was so caught up with my own turmoil that I didn’t see how bad it was for him.”

  “I understand that feeling, my dear but it wasn’t your fault. You must realize that.” I nodded not knowing what to say.

  “Tell me more about your background if you don’t mind, Sienna? I want to understand the depth of your connection with Chad and why he chose you to be here for him and not anyone else. From what I gathered earlier, there are five of you in this group of friends but Chad chose you.”

  I cleared my throat and spoke. “My mother died giving birth to me and my dad raised me as a single parent. He died when I was seven and I had to move in to live with my father’s sister in Los Angeles. She has a family of her own and they weren’t too pleased to take on an orphan but they didn’t have a choice but to take me in. I moved out the minute I got my high school diploma and left to study in London. My dad made wise investments with his money and made a small fortune. He even set aside a college fund, so studying abroad was an easy escape route, very much like Chad’s.”

  “Living with your father’s sister was pleasant and had a loving atmosphere?” Dr. Murray went on.

  “No—she and her husband were quite abusive, physically and mentally. The only thing that kept me going was the thought of Kyle, my childhood best friend, who was there after each brutal lashing.”

  “Lashing…with what precisely?”

  “Whichever came in handy then—a belt or a sturdy malleable stick but their favorite was a shotgun cleaner. It’s a long spiral metal rod with fine bristled metal husks to clean the inside nozzle of the gun. The metal husks pierce the skin with each hit. It can be extremely painful if the beating lasts awhile. The lashings only came when they felt like I needed to be punished like let’s say I didn’t finish my dinner or didn’t finish my homework. On the other lighter days, the punishment would be me kneeling on pebbles, grains, or beer bottle caps nailed upside down on a large, thick piece of wood—sometimes with only my underclothes or sometimes with clothing for up to eight hours at times—it really depends.”

  “My word and you said you were only seven years old when these started?” She looked startled and horror-struck. Even Chad gasped loudly. I spoke about it to all of them but just gave the abbreviated version and not much detail. There was no point in hiding my dark past when Chad spewed bravely about his own demons.

  “Yes…though in the beginning, it started out small. It started out with spanking
with their hands or locking me inside a tiny linen closet for six hours or so. But as I grew older, the punishment became more intense and traumatizing.”

  “Did anyone help you at all? Did you speak to a counselor at school? Or anyone for that matter?”

  “No, not one adult helped. Even my teachers saw how badly I was beaten. A few occasions during school days, my legs would have a lot of dried, crusty blood in them or at times my socks would be soaked in blood. Once, they voiced some concern but they were being paid off by my Aunt and Uncle. After that, no one voiced any concern again. The only thing I had constantly in my life was Kyle. He tried to help me too but I told him not to. We were young and I was scared that no one would believe me and I would end up getting more punished once the Brown’s found out that I told on them. During the years, I accepted my fate and didn’t even try to question it anymore.”

  “You have quite a past too, Sienna. I see now why you and Chad are drawn to each other. The type of abuse you two went through is different. But at the end of the day, scars are scars.”

  “Oh my God, Sienna—the story you told us was a little different,” Chad said. “I mean sure—you mentioned about the beating and being an abused child but never to this extent. I can’t imagine a seven year old girl scared out of her wits being locked in a tiny linen closet for six hours.” He held me tight through our tears.

  “This indeed showed a different light to your friendship. You see Chad, even though you are going through a different type of battle, you should always remember the type of battle your friend is going through as well. I can see that she is still trying to heal and may have a long way to go after years of being an abused child—but she is still trying and moving forward.”

  She shook her head and held her chest. “I spanked my kids a few times on their bottoms when they were driving me purely manic. But I profusely apologized immediately to my younglings. But right now, I imagine them being seven years old again without anyone to help them—and being treated in such a way—my heart is purely gutted. I really think you should seek someone to talk to Sienna. It might help sort some things out.”