2 months

This story does have some offensive language in it. It might be triggering.

"It is the judgment of this court that the young male child be taken from the mother and sent to live with the uncle so that a he can have a strong, stable father figure."

The words hit like a backhand across the face as young Eric tried to process what his mother was telling him. Tears stung at his eyes while he stood there in the school office while other children watched with a mixture of curiosity and fear.

Eric could hear the trembling in his mother's voice on the other end of the phone. The knot inside his stomach grew as he doubled over and retched and heaved. The office staff rushed over to his side to check on him, while someone called the school nurse.

"I'm sorry," he mother said through tears. "I tried! I tried so hard!! But they said that if I raised you, you would turn out to be an ineffectual homosexual incapable of distinguishing between fantasy and reality! The judge bought it!!"

Eric barely heard her through his own sobs as he collapsed on the floor, letting the phone dangle over the edge of the counter. The school nurse knelt towards him and picked him up, taking his left arm around the back of her neck as she carried him out of the office.

The school counselor came around the nurses' office to check on the situation.

Through some sniffles, Eric finally managed to say a few words to them. "They're taking me away! They're taking me away!"

That night, he and his mother sat across from each other at the little round dinner table.

"Remember, Eric. It's only going to be 8 weeks. They have to bring you back after that. You just have to count the days and hang on, okay?"

Several weeks later, Eric was put on a 747 and flown to had another state, far away from the lush, green landscape of his home to the arid desert with its barren landscape where his uncle lived with his wife and 4 boys.

He sat in the window seat and looked out to see his mother in the building across the tarmac. Her face marked with streaks of tears the jumbo jet started to taxi towards the runway.

As the plane took flight, Eric felt his body being pulled towards the back of the seat, and he watched the airport complex grow smaller and smaller until it could no longer be seen.

"2 months," he told himself as the plane began to level off, allowing Eric to drift to sleep. His mind conjured dreams soaked in fond memories of his mother and her family.

Images of her needlepoint work mixed together with images of his grandfather's oil paintings of biplanes from World War 1. They weaved in and out of this dreamword while his sickly little body fought hard to cling to them only to have them vanish in a fog to be replaced with the gutteral, mocking laughter of his Gluttonous and abusive father.

As the long flight ended, Eric woke up to find his face tear-stained as well. He headed to the bathroom to wash his face, and he stared at himself in the mirror. "2 months," he said again.

Upon arrival at the airport, Eric wandered around the crowded reception area, looking for his uncle. Instead, he was met by a tall young man with short brown hair and wearing glasses. He held a hand-written placard that had Eric's name on it.

Eric approached the young man cautiously while other travelers rushed around them, their footsteps creating a cacophony of sound.

Are you looking for me?"he asked

"You're cousin, Eric?".was the reply. "I'm your cousin Joe. I'll be taking you to the house. Let me help you with your luggage."

Eric watched as his tall cousin picked up the dilapidated B-4 bag his grandfather had lent to him for the trip with his right hand. The B-4 bag was heavy, but Joe seemed to have no problem lifting the heavy bag.

He and Joe made their way to the escalator and headed down towards the ground floor without making much conversation.

"Cousin Joe?"

"Yes?"Joe replied, keeping his eyes focused ahead.

"I thought that my uncle and aunt were meeting me here."

Joe stood as still as a statue as the escalator continued its descent.

"Mom and Dad are working late at the hospital."

Eric booked at his cousin for a moment. It was almost if Joe was some kind of military cadet at attention. He thought about asking more questions but decided against it.

Eric remained silent for the ride to the house, not daring to speak.

Within an hour, they arrived at a large, two story, ranch style house that had a swimming pool and a horse barn.

As Eric exited the car, he gathered his belongings, including the B-4 bag. Joe moved to take it for him, but Eric held up his left hand to stop him. Joe paused for a moment, appraising his young cousin briefly before turning and walking towards the large, wooden arch door, and walked in with Eric following behind.

"Well, it's about time! You got the little faggot boy?"

Joe and Eric both turned upon hearing the voice that had come from the kitchen..

Joe seemed to ignore the remark and turned to Eric.

"Cousin Eric, say hello to your cousin Keith. You will be staying in his old room for the duration of your visit."

Eric watched 14 year old Keith 's long face scowl and go sour, his green eyes smoldering beneath sandy blonde locks of hair.

Eric tried to speak but found his throat had gone bone dry. Instead, he made silent bow to his cousin Keith, closing his eyes.

Keith snorted in derision. "What are you, some kinda Chink now?"

Joe shook his head and pushed his glasses upwards and turned to Eric. "'I'll show you to your room."

Eric followed Joe upstairs after briefly looking over his shoulder to see Keith still glowering at him, then made his way to the room.

The room itself was about average in size with faux wooden paneling.It had a small desk and a bunk bed the wall was lined with posters from several rock bands.

A few minutes later, Keith, came into the room, his shoulders hunched over in a lazy slouch. He paced the room' glaring at Eric like a predator, ready to pounce.

"Your mom didn't raise you right," he sneered. "All that opera bull and those books," he shook his head. "It's all bull! Normal boys play pranks! Normal boys don't listen to all that crap!

He stepped around the spare room.kicking at his younger cousins' B-4 bag, the picked it up and hurled at Eric, knocking him backward onto bunk bed. Eric looked up at Keith and tried to protest, but all that came out of his mouth was a wheeze.

Keith's mouth curled in a cruel smile, eyes lit with a glint of sadistic pleasure.

"Oh god,.this is such bullshit, man! Wheeze wheeze wheeze! Waaah, waaah, waah! We don't take in little weaklings here, fag! You'll never make it here!"

Just as he had finished his taunts' a shadow fell.into the room as the oldest cousin Joe came into the guest room and touched Keith on the shoulder.

"He just got here, man. Leave him be."

Keith looked at his oldest brother, his eyes seemingly to smolder and his fists clenching and clenching, his breath coming in faster.

"This little fag is NOT gettin my room!", Keith shouted, his eyes widening and his long face tightening.

Joe lowered his head as his eyes bored into his little brother's eyes. "'You don't want to go there, Keith", he said quietly. "You really don't!"

Shaking his head, Keith left the room bumping against Joe's shoulder' leaving Eric alone with him.

Eric looked up from his and watched the retreating figure and then back to Joe. Joe stared at his younger cousin with cold, clinical expression as Eric sat on the bunk bed, gasping for air. Without another word, Joe turned exited the room.

Tears stinging his eyes, Eric stood up and walked towards the door and shut it as if the door could block out the cold reality of his situation. He tried looking around the room, trying to find something that would bring him some solace in this dark place.

Glancing to his right, he noticed a discarded calendar, laying on the floor forgotten. He picked up the calendar and caressed the images of biplanes on the front, much like the ones his grandfather had painted.

He picked up the biplane calendar and placed it at the little desk on the right corner as his eyes focused on the image.

"'Okay, " he said as he stood there in solemn respect as if it were a tribal god image.

"2 months," he muttered through tears. "2 months"

Nodding his head , he continued unpacking the B-4.bag, his being filled with a newfound determination.