Nine
years was an interesting time in a young boy’ life. It was the point before we
learned to take ourselves too seriously. It was the age of innocence. It was
the age of spontaneous erections and awkward discoveries. It was the time when
we truly understood the power of a good fart joke. This lightheartedness faded
with time for some people. It was also the age where someone could do something
that would stick with them for life. Trust me.
For years people would call me the
“Tea Faggot.” I wish I would have had a good comeback and self-esteem to
corrected them then. I would have
said, “I like coffee too!” I never did though. I was nine. The world was a
different place then. The internet was still a big wilderness and a twinkle in
most of regular people’s eyes. “Beverly Hills 90210” was on TV. It was the
first time around, when Donna was STILL a virgin. Kirstie Alley was known less
for her size and more for her incessant whining on “Cheers” then. It was just a
different time.
I was in the fourth grade. I had
three real friends. I was related to two of them and one of them gave birth to
me. The point is that there were slim pickin’s and that was okay with me. My
cousin Nicole was one of my best friends not completely by choice but mostly by
situation. We were latchkey kids two months apart with mothers who were
sisters. We looked like twin boys until puberty completely hit. I was nine so
that tide hadn’t hit yet. We were also in the same class Nicole and I. We also
had the same friend.
After school Nicole and I would
walk to her house. This was where I lived as far as the school district was
concerned because it was a better neighborhood than my own. Our mothers both
worked long hours because they had to which left us with lots of down time.
This was where we learned to be creative. This was also where we realized that
we loved television more than some of our relatives.
The second we got home the TV went
on and we went on search for a snack. After dealing with the drudgery of being
little fat 9 year olds who were teased often, we needed some caloric love. I
would go through the cupboards and fridge and create amazing snacks. There were
quesadillas, bologna and tortilla sandwiches and sometimes my aunt would leave
us quiche. Yes quiche. If that didn’t sound cute enough, I would also have tea
every day. What 9 year olds drink tea? Me. With quiche and tea I’m surprised I
ever had the need to formally come out to anyone.
It was one fourth grade afternoon
that was just like many others before it. Nicole and I were just finishing
watching an episode of “Tale Spin” and about to put on our favorite movie,
“Hook.” It was at that moment we both were startled by the sound of the
teakettle. My other cousin who was 20 at the time was in her room so we weren’t
exactly alone. Since the whistle meant it was tea time, I went to pour Nicole
and I a Styrofoam cup. I know, who uses Styrofoam? It was a different time.
Anyway, there was a commercial that came on the TV as I was pouring the hot
water into the little cups that has a loud bell noise in it. I got startled,
tapped the table with the cups and spilled the boiling hot water all over my
shorts. It took me a second to realize what has happened. I then started to
scream. It felt as though my shorts were literally stuck to my skin and burning
through it. I wanted to rip the shorts off but I was in front of 2 girl
cousins. Not knowing what to do my older cousin makes me hop into a bath
running cold water with the shorts still on. I would eventually get the shorts
off, pulling some of my skin with it. It was horrible. My normally
pale-bordering clear skinned leg was now lobster red. My poor 20 year old
cousin looked horrified running cold water on me. She quickly called for an
ambulance.
When the ambulance arrived at the
house so had my mother. This was odd because in those days my mom was late to
everything. We would often tell her to come to events an hour earlier than the
actual time for this reason. When my mom arrived I was being transferred from
the bath to the weird bed they carry you on when you are being helped by an
ambulance. Hot, muscled EMT guys carrying me on a cot. An image wasted on 9
year old me. As the two men carried me to the ambulance my mom followed less
than a foot away in tears. My mom went from tears to bustin’ balls inside the
ambulance van. I was screaming due to the pain in my leg. This was before I
knew the appropriate obscenities. It was just yelling. We are speeding through
intersections and the female EMT say, “We don’t allow screaming.” I wanted to
tell her we didn’t allow her Millers Outpost look but would make due. I didn’t
say that. My mom though made eye contact with the woman and shut her down. She
then said, “if he wants to scream, he is in pain. Let him scream.”
Once at the hospital it took at
least 2 hours for a doctor to help me. Bureaucracy at it’s best. They didn’t
even give me a pain reliever. My mom spent the whole time pacing and losing
sanity. After a long wait and waiting again they gave me a pain reliever and
proceeded to remove some of the layers of shin that were burned off. Then my
leg was wrapped with all sorts of bandages. From the waist up I was a pudgy
little boy. From the waist down, I was all mummy. I had second and third degree burns all over my left thigh.
On the upside, I missed 4 days of school, which to me was bliss. This was 4
days of watching “I Love Lucy,” “Sally Jesse,” and some other crap. I was in
heaven. This was until I returned
back to school. It was there I learned my new name “Tea Faggot.” It would be
years until that name went away, then they would call me simply “faggot.” I
would become a better person for all this.
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