School went by very quickly that day; it seemed as if everyone knew that I had no place to live. So very many people came forward and offered me a place to stay at their homes for a day here or a day there that I found myself overwhelmed several times during the day and hid in the bathroom. And even during this time I was being bullied in school.
The bullies in my school were some of the worst people I have ever met. The bullying started in sixth grade and continued for my entire Guilderland school life. There were times I found myself hiding in the bathroom as the bullies stood and waited outside, opening the bathroom door, screaming “faggot,” and telling me that I had until the end of the day to live.
Sometimes they waited for as long as it took me to come out. Finding out through the grapevine that I was now both a “faggot” and homeless was too much for them to take. The glee I could see in their faces as they either threw me into a locker or spit on me while they screamed various phrases, stayed with me for years. On this particular day, they muttered the words “homeless faggot” as they passed me in the hall, jerking their hands back and pretending to punch me. But even then, I knew that someday it would be different, and my revenge would begin on the day that I could write about it.
At the end of the school day I met Kerry at her car and she handed my bag over to me. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said. Beth stood waiting for me on the curb. We had to catch the bus to her house. Climbing aboard, I was stopped by the driver's announcing, “Whoa, hold on there, you don’t ride this bus.”
Beth and I explained that I was going to her house for the night. The driver told us that school policy required me to show permission from my parents. I was now forced to explain my story in front of a bus of kids listening to why I needed to be taken to Beth’s house. My explanation had little effect, as we were asked to leave the bus and get a note from the office. Someone at the back of the bus covered their mouth and blurted the word “faggot.”
We climbed off the bus. Beth went and called her mother to come pick us up after she got out of work. We sat on the grass facing the tennis courts and waited. Beth’s mother arrived and waved us over. While we were climbing into her car, she put her hand out and introduced herself. “Having a rough day?” she asked. “Uh-huh,” I said.
I was silent on the drive to Beth’s house, while Beth explained to her mother the course that my life had recently taken. Beth’s mom was a lawyer, and her face didn’t give away what she was thinking. During the drive her eyes switched between the rearview mirror where her eyes met Beth's, and the road. She didn’t look at me.
We pulled into their driveway. I climbed out as Beth ran to her front door. As I walked around the car, Beth’s mother threw her arms around me and just hugged me. I could feel her mouth pressed to my head. “It’s going to be okay,” she whispered, as she choked back a sob.
Geoffrey Doig-Marx holds all written and electronic rights to his writting "A Day in the Life". It can not be reprinted in part or whole without his written consent.
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