Chapter 25, Part 2
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“Don’t look at them,” Martha Cloud said, quietly but firmly, pulling her son closer to her. She frowned disapprovingly at the two young men who walked past them. Her young son, Cyrus, looked at them, confused as to what his mother was so upset about. They’re holding hands. So what? Cyrus thought. “I swear,” his mother continued, hurrying along, child in tow, “I just think it’s disgusting that they’re like that. Can’t they make some effort to be normal?”


They looked pretty normal to me, Cyrus thought. He knew better than to voice his thoughts, though. He did not wish to be lectured by his mother again. “It’s a terrible place for your little brother and sister to be born into,” she continued, lightly placing a hand on her stomach. “All of these sick perverts, making children think those kinds of things are okay… I don’t want you to be like that, Cyrus. I want you to grow up, find a nice woman who you want to spend your life with, and have children with her. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Momma.”

_________________________________


“Momma, someone’s been going through my makeup again,” Sylvia announced. She and Milton, her twin brother, were three years older than Cyrus. The twins were the top students in their grade, and, as a result, their parents made much of them.

“What was that?” Victor Cloud asked, pausing between bites of his food to listen to his daughter.

“Someone’s been messing with my makeup,” Sylvia repeated. “My clothes, too.”

“What do you mean, sweetie?” Martha asked.

“My makeup’s been moved around, and one of my dresses was folded kind of weird.”

“Did you maybe move them yourself?” Victor asked. “You’re kind of forgetful.”

“No, I didn’t,” Sylvia insisted. “I have a specific place for everything, and when I looked this evening, things were moved around.”


Victor and Martha simultaneously looked over at Cyrus, frowning disapprovingly. Cyrus fearfully raised his eyes, looking up at them.

“Son, how many times have we told you not to touch your sister’s things?” Victor scolded.

“Little boys aren’t supposed to wear makeup or dresses,” Martha added. “Victor, maybe we should take him to a doctor. There’s got to be something wrong with him. I know Dr. Robinson said that when he was younger, it was just a stage he’d grow out of, but Cyrus is nine now. He’s too old to be doing these things.”

“Martha, calm down. I’m sure he’s fine.”

“How is he fine, Victor? Our son keeps sneaking his sister’s makeup and dressing up in her clothes! Do you think that’s normal? This is your fault; if you and Cyrus had a normal father-son relationship, he wouldn’t be like this. Instead, you’re always at work, never paying any mind to him. No wonder he has problems.”

“I work so that all of you can eat,” Victor replied, as calmly as he could. “But if you think it will help matters, bring Cyrus to the doctor tomorrow.”

“Therapy, that’s what he needs,” Milton muttered.

“Not a word out of you, young man,” Martha snapped. “You stay out of this.”

Cyrus bowed his head, trying to block out as much of the argument as possible. Great, he thought, One more dinner where Momma and Dad get into a fight about me. Maybe I am weird, if they’re making such a big deal about it. But why is it so wrong for me to want to wear Sylvia’s clothes? I like wearing them more than the stuff I have to wear.

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