June 15th, 2015

It's very easy to forget that my mother can be a massive bitch when she wants to be.

When you live alone with someone for nearly eighteen years of their life, you see every side of them. The side that'll let you lay with them in bed after a nightmare. The side that'll make you a plate of polvorosas after you've had a shitty day. The side that'll whisper, "you're my everything, mijo," inside your ear as you cry into the curve of their neck.

But then you poke my mother a little too hard, and all of the ugly that was kept deep inside those walls comes spilling out of her like a split bag of trash.

Slaps across the face.

Comments about your weight.

The shakiness that pops up in her tone whenever you bring up your transition.

And then you remember why you hate her so fucking much.

Because she's a massive, raging bitch.

And nothing you can do or say will ever change that part about her.

She's sending me to her husband's summer camp, and you better believe I'm pissed. Not that I had any real plans for the break. I mean, ever since Kate moved, I've had more than enough free time. 

Actually.

No.

That's a lie.

I was gonna spend break with Dad.

On the boat.

Fuck, this sucks ass.

She came into my room today for one of her talks.

That's how I found out.

She snapped her fingers in my eyes, urging me to get up. "Ey, mijo!"

"Mija," I corrected.

"You know what I mean."

No.

I didn't.

"Sit up. I need to talk to you."

I did so, my mop of thick, tangled black hair falling in front of my nose. I could never keep it nice and neat, and it was a lot worse when I was younger and had it longer.

I kinda miss when Mom used to sit me down in her lap.

When she pinned it back with bows and barrettes.

She didn't understand why her little boy liked to look so pretty, but she never told me it was out of the ordinary.

Why she didn't figure out I was trans sooner, I'm not sure.

She sat down on the bed, popping her mouth. For years, it used to be smeared with the same cheap red lipstick. But Kevin didn't like it, and when Kevin doesn't like something, it has to go. That's why all of Mom's old dresses are in the trash. Too sinful. Too lustful. Too provocative.  "We're sending you away in a week. To a camp."

My mouth never dried up so quick.

Holy shit.

I knew Kevin didn't like me.

But I never thought he'd-

A sigh.

"Not that type of camp, mijo."

Thank.

God.

"Ever hear of Camp Clearwater? The one off of Bennett's Mills?"

I couldn't help but let out a long groan. Fuck. That's where the Jesus freaks in my school go every summer. "Ma, I'm not spending my entire summer reading out of a Bible."

She snorted, gently smacking my arm. And for a second, that switch of hers flipped, and I saw that little smile that hardly ever poked out for me. "You don't have a choice. I already filled out the paperwork last night with Kevin. You're gonna be co-counseling for the little kids."

"Don't they need someone who- you know- knows about religious shit and stuff?"

And with that, she slapped a fat, dusty book down on my dirty sheets. On the cover were two teenagers with two fake smiles on their faces, each holding up a cross. "Start reading, mijo."