Here the Whole Time

by Vitor Martins

Now do you understand my despair? Fat, gay, and in love with a boy who won’t even acknowledge my Good morning in the elevator. Everything could go wrong. Everything will go wrong.

Because Caio’s stare is more like a laser beam striking my body smack-dab in the middle, burning me alive as my organs slide out of my body. But in a good way.

I can feel the anger in his words, and more than that, I can identify with him in a way I’ve never identified with anyone before. It’s as if, at nine years old, Eddie is already fed up with the world. All of a sudden, I understand how my mom feels when she says she wishes she could keep all her students safe.

Therapy isn’t like cold medicine, where you take one pill and then feel better the next day. I remember the first time I met Olivia, thinking she was going to give me all the secrets to a happy life and I’d walk out of our session magically thin and hot. That’s not how it works; it’s a long journey. But trust me, this story would be twice as dramatic and three times more self-deprecating if it weren’t for my therapist.

“But therapy isn’t for crazy people! In fact, there are lots of people who develop mental health issues because they’re not in therapy,”

Being gay is always a smaller detail compared to my truckload of crises.

Because fat is the kind of word people try to hide, no matter the cost. Everyone says “chubby” or “big boned,” but never “FAT.” Fat is a word you can never take back. When you declare something, even if it’s obvious to everyone already, it becomes real.

And so, to break the silence, I tell the truth. Because those who tell the truth open the path for good things to happen. I think my mom said that once. Or maybe it was Dumbledore.

And also because I don’t really know how to process the information that Becky wants to meet me. Nobody has ever wanted to meet me of their own free will. I’m usually just a consequence in people’s lives. Never a choice.

It’s weird how our minds are so used to the same starting points. I didn’t know much about Rebeca, and yet in my mind she was thin. I imagined her thin, because it didn’t occur to me at any point that she might not be.

I’m not sure I completely understand his pain, because I’ve never been a victim of homophobia. Being gay is something that’s inside me, and when people look at me, they don’t go beyond my appearance. But I do know what it’s like to spend five hours surrounded by people who hate you. And I’ve come across disgusting nicknames written on my desk a bunch of times. So I guess, in the end, I actually do understand his pain.

Even though she’s thin, Melissa also feels insecure. Being thin is not a prize you win in the lottery of life that guarantees eternal happiness.

“When you’re a girl, being fat is never cute. When you’re a girl, you must always be skinny.”

Things get even worse when folks stop talking and start doing things to you instead. To bring you down. To break you down.”

One day you’ll learn to like who you are a little better, and that’ll be reflected in what other people see when they look at you. There will always be assholes, but we learn to fight back. That’s the most important thing—to not put your head down, to fight for the right to marry who you love, for the right to have your body respected regardless of what it looks like or what you’re wearing. To fight for the right to walk down the street without being attacked for the color of your skin.”

“But you will always be my boy. And I will always be your mom. So you can count on me, always. Don’t hide things from me, son. You can tell me about what’s happening in your life. Because I love you and nothing will ever change that.”

I find it amazing how therapy always makes the most obvious things seem like the discovery of the century.

“Okay, tip number one: Don’t fall for guys who are ashamed of telling their friends about you. They’re either assholes or married.” Apparently, Caio has been telling Becky all about me, so one point for Caio. “Number two.” My mom raises two fingers. “The guy might be the hunkiest in the whole world, but if you can’t talk to him for more than half an hour without wondering if you can die of boredom, that beauty isn’t worth much.”

“And finally, number three. This one is really important, so pay attention. Don’t fall in love with someone who doesn’t make you feel beautiful. I don’t mean it has to be someone who always tells you that you’re perfect and wonderful. Not at all. But when you feel good-looking just by being close to them, then, my son, it’s much easier. You wake up with bedhead, your face all crumpled, and yet you still feel handsome. Because you’re with someone who isn’t pointing out your flaws. Who doesn’t make you feel worse. Doesn’t point out that stretch mark on your butt that you hadn’t even noticed until that moment. Because the person who sees past the surface sees the best in you,”

“My favorite couple is us,” Caio says with a smile, and I almost have a breakdown because I most definitely DIDN’T SEE THAT ONE COMING.

THAT WAS SO SMOOTH OMG

And when he runs his hand along my face to give me another kiss, it occurs to me that if the word beautiful had a million different meanings … Caio would be all of them.

But in all that time I spent by myself, I never really thought about the things that make me happy. I guess I’ve always been so busy trying to avoid being unhappy that I never found a way to be happy.