Homecoming (Lesbian)

CHAPTER 11 PART 2

"Seriously though," I threw the football at him. "How is Manhattan?"

Scott caught the ball and threw it back at me "Horrible, it's super expensive, there's always traffic and people are rude. I live in Brooklyn and Brooklyn is not too bad but I can't wait to get back home."

We were on my back yard throwing the ball from side to side while we talked about school, girls and other various completely useless information. Scott was studying Business at NYU. He was going to come back home to take over his father's dealership so the old man could rest, or so Scott said. He was looking forward to be back. Scott is a small town boy, he doesn't like big cities with too much traffic, or wasting an hour of his life just to get to places.

"By the way, how are things going with Faye? Is studying in the same place making things harder?"

"Nah, man, we're great. We don't even share a dorm or a class so it's not really like that. Plus, I can't get tired of Faye, she's just too fucking perfect."

Scoot laughed. "Yeah, remind yourself that in ten years when she's nagging you about how you can't put your feet on the coffee table and when she says 'Honey, I've got a head ache, let's just go to bed'."

I cracked up. "If that ever happens, something is going wrong. I'm telling you. We're fine."

Scott smile and said "Yeah, I know. All jokes aside, I'm really happy for you guys. Three years already."

"Going for the fourth one."

I caught the football in time for my dad to come to the back yard to say "Riley, you have a visit."

I turned to Scott. "A visit?"

I threw the ball back at Scott and asked him to wait for me, he nodded and I went inside. I walked into my living room to find a man talking to my mother, all dressed in black. When he turned around I knew why. A priest.

"Father Ryan, this is my daughter Riley."

I had seen father Ryan a couple of times at church, but I'm not particularly interested in church so I didn't give much importance to him. Now he was sitting in my living room, and my dad said he was 'visiting me'.

"Hello, Riley."

He looked young, probably on his late twenties, early thirties. Brown hair, brown eyes, soft smile. "Hey," I turned to my dad "Dad, what's this?"

"You said you needed help."

I looked at my mom, who looked down, pursed her lips and shook her head with disapproval in an almost imperceptible way. She didn't agree to this, but my dad does what he wants.

Father Ryan looked back at me and said, "I think it's very brave of you to look for help, Riley. The first step is accepting it."

"What? What are you...? When I asked my parents for help I didn't mean a priest. No offense."

"I assure you, Riley, I'm more than qualified to help you. With the Lord's help everything is possible."

I felt ill. I had to go back to the yard and ask Scott to leave, he asked if everything was okay and I answered it never was. He seemed worried, so I promised to call him that night. Scott left through the side of the house as I went back inside.

I stared at my parents trying to figure out what to do. My dad's not going to give up just because so I thought the best thing to do was to give it a chance. Maybe he was right, maybe that's what I needed. And if it didn't work, we could move on to other things. I agreed to talk to Father Ryan so he could 'give me the guidance I needed' and maybe help me control my rage fits.