The Perfect Backdrop To A Disaster

The air ran dry of all hope, cold of the words that circulated. Words I expected yet not hoped for. I was seated on the dark wood steps in front of my cottage, facing the person that I had hoped to be the only one that would understand, my mother. My whole family knew before she did, that I am a homosexual and engaged. The only problem was that they are a cluster of homophobes, people that put the views of the church into overdrive.
When I saw her earlier that day I had started to build up the hope and courage to tell her, longing for one to love and understand my situation, longing for one family member to love and support me.
However, as I sat there facing her I came to realize that it was a dream synthesized by a mind that did not understand its own family dynamics. I was sitting there listening to another preaching of the views of church against gays. How God's rage would descend upon me and how I would be another classic gay victim to suffer the wrath of aids. During the seemingly endless conversation it was also mentioned that no one would attend my marriage or any other celebration held in honor of my fiancé and I.
Even though I had somehow known this before, I could feel the tears damming in my eyes. The pain of complete loneliness was too overwhelming. Not even the chirpy flowers, blue skies and apparent transparent moon could cheer up my aching heart.
A while after she left I was left crying in my room, even though I had been depended on my own happiness for the past eighteen years, it still hurt every time I had to face the hideous truth.

These memories flashed through my mind as I sat in the semi-lit bathroom, the bathroom I had fled to after the argument with my fiancé. To the presence of my fiancé was where I always fled to get away from the heartache, disappointment and loneliness that were presented in my family. However, now the curse had seemed to find its way to the arms of my lover.

I could see all my ambitions and hopes for a flawless relationship crumble through my tear filled eyes. The air was dry, like before, empty and lonely, like before …a dreary presence that suffocated me.
I decided not to let it get me down; I would walk into that room and face whatever waited for me. However, when I stood up and straightened myself out I wondered …could my life be worse than death?
 

***

I was seated on the same spot that he had purposed to me about a month ago. The badly lit room had not changed much. The furniture was still dusty; the light from the bed lamps was still casted dancing shadows on the wall, vaguely lighting the room. Yet still, across the room on the hardwood desk stood my empty mug and the remnants of the apologetic cookies my fiancé gave to me when I entered the room. An apology and make up session that had lifted the gloomy presence that clung to the atmosphere. Now I was sitting there, looking at him trying to sing along with the opera that was playing on his laptop, all famous love songs that filled the room with a vibrant silver aura. An aura that lifted the tension once presented and painting frequent smiles on our faces. The famous opera song ‘That’s Amore’ took its turn to grace us with its words, and he sang along beautifully – staring deep into my eyes. Like a little gay tornado he twirled to my side and extended his hand, gesturing to me to dance with him.

Whilst caught in the arms of my lover, being led to a sixties dance maneuver, Eskom turned off the lights – and everything else for that matter. But, we did not stop, dancing to the rhythm of our own music.
Beyond the brick walls and glass barriers of the room, the stars shimmered on the black canvass of the night like crushed diamonds, with the lustrous moon at its side. A night that started out ostensibly horrific yet resolved into a more solid relationship, with a perfect evening as its backdrop.