Our New Normal

  I am petitioning for emancipation from my parents, Timothy and Gwendolyn Reynolds, due to their refusal to further support me financially. Since January 23rd, the day that my parents kicked me out of their home, I have been living independently with a close friend and her mother. I have my own checking and savings accounts, and I am responsible for my portion of the rent, utilities, car insurance, and cell phone bill. I have been employed with a local coffee shop since February 7th, and I have become an integral part of the crew. I am still enrolled in my local high school and have maintained acceptable grades and attendance. Considering that I have been on my own for a month and am maintaining a stable and healthy lifestyle, I feel that I am self-sufficient enough to be emancipated.

  After reading the narrative to Chloe and Cynthia, Tori was relieved to see their nods of approval. She got out her laptop, opened an electronic copy of the form, typed in her responses, and printed it out. She could have submitted a hand-written copy of the form, but she figured that making it look as professional as possible could only help her case.

  Tori barely slept that night. She kept wondering if her case would be accepted, if her parents would sign the paperwork for her to become emancipated, and if there would be a hearing—and if either of her parents would even show up. She thought about them often, but the pain of their desertion had eased slightly; rather than concentrating on their betrayal, she refocused her energy on starting her new life without them. Nothing was going to change their mind, and Tori was finally beginning to accept that.

  * * *

  On Thursday morning, Tori and Cynthia walked through the crowded courthouse, struggling to find the appropriate office in which to file Tori’s paperwork. They had already stopped in three different places and each time had been directed to a different office on the other side of the building. Though they’d arrived early that morning, Tori’s stomach grumbled with lunchtime hunger by the time that they located the appropriate office and sat in the waiting room to await their turn at the counter. After 45 excruciating minutes, Tori’s name was called, and they found themselves face-to-face with an apathetic-looking court clerk.

  “What paperwork are you filing?” the clerk asked.

  “Petition for emancipation,” Tori replied, setting the stack of paperwork—neatly organized in a binder—on the counter.

  The clerk nodded, retrieving the booklet from Tori. “Is this your mother?” he asked, gesturing to Cynthia.

  “No,” Tori replied simply.

  “Are you in contact with your parents?” the clerk asked again, thumbing through the paperwork.

  “Not really,” Tori answered. “I know where they are, but we are not on speaking terms.”

  “It is recommended that they complete a Letter of Parental Consent for Emancipation form,” he stated, pulling a sheet of paper from a filing cabinet below the counter. “You can give this to them yourself, or we can send it via certified mail if you would rather do that.”

  Tori looked over at Cynthia, both considering the options. “Can we do both?” Tori asked. “I think I would like to give it to them myself, but can we send it in the mail, too, just in case I cannot reach them?”

  The clerk nodded. “We can do both. Once the papers are filed, the consent form will be mailed out within the next 3-5 business days.”

  “Okay,” Tori said, her stomach churning with anxiety over seeing her parents again.

  The clerk collected her registration fee and started entering her information into the computer. “Is there a particular day of the week that you’d like to schedule your hearing?”

  Tori shrugged. “No, not really,” she replied. “As soon as possible, I guess.”

  The clerk nodded and continued to type information into the computer. He soon printed out paperwork and handed it to her. “Your hearing is scheduled for three weeks from today at 9 o’clock,” he said. “Please arrive at least fifteen minutes prior to the start of the hearing in the courtroom lobby on the second floor, room 202A, so that you can sign in. If you do not have a lawyer and would like one appointed for you, please call the number on the top of this paper. A notice of the hearing will be sent to your parents via certified mail. They are encouraged to attend the meeting, but it is not required as the hearing is based solely on your ability to self-sustain. Getting them to sign the Letter of Parental Consent for Emancipation will help your case and speed up the hearing, but it is not required.” He handed her a pen and pointed to a spot on the form. “Please sign this, acknowledging the hearing date and time.” She obliged, and he pulled a yellow carbon copy of the form from behind the one she signed. “Okay. We’ll see you in three weeks.”

  Tori thanked him for his time, and she and Cynthia left the courthouse. Once they got back to the car, Tori nervously reviewed the form she had to give to her parents. “When do you think we should try and give it to them?” she asked Cynthia.

  Cynthia glanced at the clock. “Well, it’s only 1:00,” she said. “Will they be home now?”

  Tori scoffed. “My mother doesn’t work, so she’ll be there,” she replied bitterly. “I doubt she would answer the door without my dad there, though.”

  Cynthia shrugged. “We can always give it a shot,” she suggested. “It might be a little easier if your father isn’t there.”

  Tori considered her options. While it would be much easier if her dad wasn’t at the house, she kind of wanted him to be there when she showed up. She wanted to see the look on his face when she handed him the papers—namely, whether he would look concerned for her well-being and agree to sign it or if he would slam the door in her face and rip the form to shreds. At the same time, though, she didn’t want to have to subject Cynthia to the vulgar comments that her father would make if they arrived while he was there, and she didn’t want to go without someone to have her back if things got hairy. “We should probably just head over now,” she finally decided. Cynthia nodded and headed to the house.

  They pulled into the driveway, but Cynthia parked only a few feet away from the entrance as a precaution. They took deep, nervous breaths simultaneously and glanced at each other.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” Cynthia asked before turning off the ignition. “We can still turn around and go home. The clerk said they were going to mail it to them no matter what, anyway.”

  Tori nodded. “I’m sure,” she confirmed despite the churning in her stomach. “I need to do this. I want them to know that I’m making it just fine without them.”

  Cynthia nodded, clenching her hand. “I’ll be right there with you. We’ll be fine.” She pulled the keys out of the ignition. “Let’s go do this.” They walked up to the door and rang the doorbell, Tori’s heart pounding as she clutched the form.

  After a few moments, the maid answered. When she recognized Tori, her eyes widened. “Victoria!” she cried, reaching out to hug her. “Thank goodness you’re okay!”

  Tori smiled, appreciative of the warm welcome. Cathy had always been kind to her, even more so than her parents. “It’s good to see you, too, Cathy.”

  “I’ve been worried sick since you left! No one knew where you’d gone to or if you were alive or anything!” She leaned in to whisper into Tori’s ear. “I never agreed with what they did. Who you love shouldn’t matter.”

  “Thank you,” Tori said. “And I’ve been fine. I moved in with my girlfriend and her mom, and I’m getting my life situated.” She glanced down at the paper, shuffling nervously. “Um, are my parents home?”

  “Your mother is,” Cathy replied. “I’ll go see if she wants to come to the door. I would let you in, but I have strict orders from your father not to allow you inside—or on the premises, for that matter, but I’m not calling the cops on you. That’s just stupid. This was your home, after all, for 17 years.” She glanced inside. “I’ll be right back.” She closed the door, retreating into the house and she called for Tori’s mother.

  Cynthia and Tori glanced at each other nerv
ously. “I can’t believe your dad would tell her to call the cops if you step onto the property,” Cynthia whispered angrily. “I’m really glad he’s not here, because I have a feeling I’d say some unsavory things to him right about now.”

  Tori grinned. “You’d have to stand in line,” she joked.

  Through the glass, she could see her mother’s figure advancing to the entrance, and she stepped back just in case. When Gwendolyn opened the door, her eyes were already swollen with impending tears. “Victoria,” she muttered, her voice cracking. She moved closer, looking as if she wanted to grab onto Tori and embrace her, but she resisted.

  “Hello, mother,” Tori said, her anguish buried deep within and replaced with resolve. She didn’t want to show her how much she was still hurting, how looking at her mother made her heart burst all over again.

  “What do you want?” Gwendolyn asked.

  “I came to give you this,” she responded, handing the form to her mother.

  Gwendolyn read it over silently, looking up at Tori with tears brimming. “Emancipation? You want to be emancipated?”

  Tori nodded. “Since you and dad obviously want no parts of taking care of me, I want to be emancipated so I can take care of myself and try to lead a normal life.”

  Her mother stood silently for a moment. “Victoria, you don’t have to do this,” she said pleadingly. “If you’d please just let us help you—”

  “There’s nothing to help,” Tori insisted angrily. “I’m a lesbian, and no one is going to change that. If you can’t accept that, then let me move on so I can take care of myself. I already have a place to live, my own checking account, my own job—”

  “You have a job?” Gwendolyn asked, amazed.

  “Yes,” Tori replied. “I had to grow up fast thanks to you and dad. I’m a lot more responsible now. I wish you were around to see it.”

  The tears that had been threatening to erupt from Gwendolyn’s eyes finally ran down her cheeks. “I want to be there, honey.” She started sobbing, reaching out for Tori. “I miss my baby girl. I don’t want you to be gone!”

  Tori shrugged away from her mother’s touch. “Well, this is the decision dad made, and you went along with it, so live with it. I’m my own person now, and I am proud of who I am, both as an adult and as a lesbian.”

  Gwendolyn looked down at the form. “I will discuss this with your father,” she said, stifling her anguish. “If you’d rather live a life of sin, then that’s your choice. I’m sure your father will sign it since he has no intention of helping you along your sinful path.”

  Tori scoffed. “For someone who misses me so much, you sure have no problem calling me a heathen.”

  Her mother sighed. “The Bible says—”

  “To hell with what the Bible says!” Tori shouted, and her mother’s eyes widened. “I’m your daughter! You should love me for who I am, not hate me because an ancient book written by men tells you to!

  “I am not going to get into an argument on my own porch for all the neighbors to see,” she hissed, her eyes flashing with anger at Tori’s blasphemy.

  Tori’s face turned crimson. “Oh yes, god forbid they realize that YOU KICKED YOUR DAUGHTER OUT OF THE HOUSE BECAUSE SHE’S A BIG FAT LESBIAN!” Tori hoped a neighbor was outside to hear her screams.

  Gwendolyn’s face went pale as she glanced around nervously for onlookers. “That’s quite enough from you, young woman! You can leave now.”

  Tori was about to scream something else at her mother when Cynthia grabbed her arm. “Tori, let’s just go,” she instructed sternly. “There’s nothing you can say to change her mind.” Tori glared at her mother for a moment before finally turning away.

  As Tori returned to the car, Cynthia turned to face Gwendolyn. “I have something to say, Mrs. Reynolds: you should be ashamed of yourself. As a mother, your primary objective should be to care for your offspring—especially since you don’t have a job to worry about—and to provide them with love, shelter, and comfort. You’ve failed miserably at the simplest of motherly duties. Regardless of whom she loves or what she does, you’re supposed to love her and be there for her, but all you care about is what your neighbors and your church think. It’s pathetic. You are a tragic waste of human life, and I hope what you did to Tori eats away at you for the rest of your miserable life.”

  Gwendolyn’s face transitioned from anguish to rage. “You’re the mother of the abomination that ruined my daughter, I presume?”

  “My daughter is not an abomination, and Tori is not ruined!” Cynthia yelled. “I love my daughter for who she is, just like you should for Tori!”

  Tori’s mother sneered. “The only way I’ve failed at being a mother is allowing my daughter to be corrupted by sins of the flesh. If you support their blasphemous behavior, then you’re no better than the rest of the filth in the gay community. Now leave my premises before I call the police.”

  Cynthia growled, stifling her desire to strangle Tori’s mother as she clenched her hands into fists. “You are lucky that I know how to recognize a lost cause,” she hissed through clenched teeth. “Please sign that form so Tori can have some semblance of a normal life now that you’ve thrown her to the curb.”

  “I’ll do what my husband says, not what some sinner instructs me to do!” Gwendolyn snapped. “You have two minutes to get off my property before I call the police!” She trudged into the house, slamming the door.

  When Cynthia returned to the car, Tori was hunched in her seat, sobbing quietly into her arm. Cynthia patted her leg, her heart hurting for Tori’s predicament. “There is no talking sense into that woman,” she said angrily. “I am so sorry that life gave you such a horrible mother.”

  Tori shrugged, wiping the tears from her eyes. “I just hope they’ll sign the form,” she muttered sadly. “There’s obviously no way they’re going to take me back.”

  Chapter 36

  Gwendolyn retreated into her bedroom, lying on her plush, king-sized bed with satin sheets. She stared at the ceiling as she replayed the debacle from moments ago, and more tears sprung to her eyes. The altercation had spun out of control, just like the last time that she’d seen her daughter. She had said those cruel things to Victoria and her girlfriend’s mother as a defense mechanism—it wasn’t often that anyone dared to confront her—but she hadn’t necessarily meant what she said. She wanted nothing more than for Victoria to see the error of her ways and come back home to the normal life that she’d had before, but she knew that that wasn’t going to happen, especially not now.

  There was a knock on the door. “Mrs. Reynolds, are you okay?” her maid called from the other side of the door.

  “Yes, Cathy, I am fine,” she replied. “I wish to be left alone.”

  “As you wish,” Cathy said, retreating to the kitchen.

  Gwendolyn continued to stare at the ceiling, her mind swirling with worry over her daughter’s welfare, until her eyes were too heavy to remain open. Though she’d fallen asleep, her mind continued to replay all that had happen since Victoria had left.

  * * *

  Gwendolyn paced in the kitchen as Victoria hastily packed up a life’s worth of belongings upstairs. She was still in shock over her husband’s decision to exile their only child, and she was frustrated over her helplessness in the situation. She’d given Victoria some money to help her start a new life, and she hoped that it sufficed; a thousand dollars was a decent amount of money for a person to get started, and it was a small enough amount to stay under her husband’s radar. Victoria was certain to have a difficult time since she was still a minor, but Gwendolyn’s hands were tied. If Victoria wouldn’t get help, then she had to do what Timothy said.

  Timothy looked at his watch as he stomped his foot. “It’s been half an hour,” he declared impatiently. “I’m going to call the authorities.” He reached in his pocket to grab his cell phone, but Gwendolyn held down his hand.

  “Give her some a little more time, Tim,” sh
e begged timidly. “Thirty minutes isn’t enough time to pack up everything.”

  “I don’t care what she needs or wants,” he argued. “That ungrateful bitch would rather put her vile desires ahead of the people who have taken care of her since she was a child, and I’m supposed to stand idly by and let her waltz away with the belongings that I’ve paid for? Do you know how much of my money she is carting away with?”

  Gwendolyn sighed. “What are you going to do with all of her clothing if she doesn’t take them, Tim?” she asked. “You might as well let her have them.”

  “That’s all designer clothing, Gwen! We could donate it to a charity and get a tax write off! You’d rather let some heathen walk away with it?”

  “Stop talking about Victoria like that!” Gwen yelled, much to her husband’s surprise. “She’s our daughter!”

  “Not anymore she’s not.” He stood still, listening for movement upstairs to make sure that Victoria was still packing. “She’s stalling, I know it! I’m going up there and throwing her out myself!”

  Gwen rushed over to him. “Please, Tim, stop!” she pleaded. “Regardless of what path she’s decided to take, she’s still our daughter. Let her gather her things; she’ll leave in due time. Besides, what will the neighbors think if they see you manhandling her? Once she’s gone, you’ll never have to worry about her ever again.”

  He pondered for a moment, his brow furrowing as he looked at his watch. “It’s five-thirty,” he stated. “If she’s not out by six, I’m calling the police whether you like it or not!” He trudged out of the kitchen, keeping an eye on the front door as he awaited Victoria’s departure. Gwendolyn remained in the kitchen, sobbing quietly as she hunched over the sink.

  As she glanced out of the window, Gwen noticed a teenage girl pulling up their driveway. The driver’s side door flew open, and the girl rushed out of the car to help Victoria with her bags.