B is for Revenge

The act was cold, calculating and absolutely stunning. Boris looked on as the blood drained from his proud black father’s face. Drained to never return. It was beautiful. In one fell swoop, Boris had shed himself of years of pain and needless tears and all it took was one ever so casual revelation.

Daniel, that was the father’s name, tried to gather enough saliva to say something. Anything! Nothing. The smirk grew. Boris tried to hide the form of it but…. too late, too late was the cry. All sense of restraint had long since passed by. The years had not been kind to Daniel but then, what did Daniel know of kindness?

The light in the old man’s eyes dimmed. He… he secretly depended on Boris to redeem him. Of the three, Boris was the only one who was genuinely stable. Marsha was… a disappointment; Felix caused his black face to burn red with rage but Boris… the woman did well with Boris. He was stable. He would help him keep his head up. Right?

“Well dad, don’t you want to say… something? I just told you that I –“

The finger of silence was raised. Daniel felt betrayed somehow. He wanted to give Boris a good cut-tail but he hadn’t the moral authority anyways. Besides, with these kind of matters, you couldn’t just beat it out of people.

“Boris. You serious?”

As a heart attack, he thought.

“Yes dad.” He was relatively flippant.

“And your mother?”

“She has nothing to do with this. Plus, she’s kind of always been in my corner, you know.”

Even though, Boris said it with that condescending humility he possessed, the message was clear and stinging.

“And you’re… happy?”

In ways you would not possibly believe!

“Yes, I am.”

Daniel slumped further into the chair. What else could be said? Boris turned, walked out the gates and into the streets. He breathed. For the first time in years, he breathed. The seed sown at eighteen had borne the best fruit. Boris smiled. He was right. Being gay was the best revenge one could have against a disappointing father.