For those who care, my name is Rick. I hated that name for most of my life, but as with many things, one deals with it. When I was a kid, I thought it sounded like a name for old men, and when I got to high school, I hated it primarily because my parents named me after my homophobic and despotic grandfather. I never really liked him till the day he died. He was the biggest reason I rebelled, even though I was too afraid to admit in front of him that I was gay, and I hated him for the way he talked about them.I suppose every family has its own, and in the nineties, it was not as easy to get accepted as it is today. Hell, I was worried most of my teenage years that if I told my parents, they’d tell him, and he would make them send me to one of those camps where they brainwash you or beat you into being straight. You know those good, nice Christians who love all God’s creations… Nothing against Christians in general, just those who think their Bible interpretations are more important than their children.So, when he died, I was nearly twenty-one, and on the day of my birthday, I gave my family the last chance to decide for themselves and told them I was gay. I will not go into detail about the worst day of my life, but as you can figure out, I moved out that day.On those rare occasions, I had the chance to speak with my sister; she informed me that no one was allowed to step into my room, that father acted as though his son was dead, and that mom sometimes cried and hoped her straight son would come home. My sister, in general, hated me for “ruining my family.” She said she didn’t care who I fucked, but she found the image repulsing. I replied that I found the idea of anyone sleeping with her repulsive, and those were probably the last words spoken between us until our parents’ funeral.They Ataşehir Escort died in a car accident about a decade later. They never wrote a will, so the lawyer informed me that I was entitled to the same part of the inheritance as my sister. She, of course, tried her best to cut me out, but after all the dirt she pulled, I decided not to leave her anything of mine. So, we sold the car, but she was adamant about keeping the house. She was living there and was planning to stay there after her wedding, which I, of course, wasn’t invited to. But, I allowed it, knowing she was too cheap to pay me for half of the market value and she would rather wait till I died. Still, I made it very clear that half of the house was mine, and I would one day come for it.Honestly, I was pissed, but in the end, I really couldn’t be bothered enough to spend my life energy on ruining hers… So, for four years, we lived in the same city without any contact, and I was okay with renting until I found someone worth having a mortgage with.My landlord once called to ask if he could stop by for a chat. When I invited him in, we spent a couple of minutes with some small talk; he told me then that his daughter had had a few issues and that he would need my house for her. And so, in a few days, I received an email that my lease would not be prolonged as usual and that I must find a new place within two weeks. But then Covid struck…I was looking, but I had a tough time finding anything suitable in the area. I didn’t feel like bothering my friends for who knows how long. Paying for a hotel also seemed a bit much. So, I decided to call the one person I hoped I would never have to talk to again. I suppose she picked up only because she hadn’t saved my number.I informed her about Ataşehir Escort Bayan the situation and told her I would be coming to live in my room within ten days. And if she decided to make it troublesome for me, I didn’t mind calling some of my friends in the local police department, and we could make a spectacle for our curious neighborhood.As promised, that Friday morning, I parked in front of our house and, for a long while, just sat there looking at it, questioning my life choices. After a long time, I took a deep breath and went to the door. My key didn’t fit as expected, and no one answered when I knocked. When I tried to call Ashley on her phone, she wouldn’t pick up. So, I wrote her a message.”Hi, Ash. I am pretty sure you know I am here. My key is not working. Are you going to open the door, or should I call Carl and Steve? They know about our situation and are waiting to see if I need them.”Carl was a good friend who worked on the police force, and Steve was my first boyfriend when it all had to be hush-hush. Now he was married to a fantastic man and owned a business as a Locksmith, which was highly convenient right now. So even though it was a bit weird calling him after all this time for such a favor, he was more than willing to help because he knew our family history.When she didn’t reply, I sent the following:”If you don’t come out in ten minutes, I am calling them. I am sure both will be glad to see you after all these years.”After ten minutes, I came to the door again and dialed the number.”Hi, Steve… So yeah, I need a new lock.””Hi Rix, yeah, I had a bet with Mark, and suppose he owes me dinner.”I could hear the smile in his voice.”I don’t remember the last time someone called me Rix,” I laughed”Well, when John called Escort Ataşehir you Rick back in high school, you nearly punched him.””John was an asshole; that doesn’t count.” This short flashback to my teenage years made my day after this drama with opening the door. I would rather spend time chatting with him, reminiscing about the old days, but everything I owned was in my car, and I didn’t feel like driving it to a hotel.”When could you be here?”At that moment, Ashley opened the door.”Well, hello, dear sister!””Shut up and come in.” If looks could kill, I would have been obliterated on the spot. She wouldn’t even have had to bury the body.I filled Steve in and said my goodbyes as I walked into the house. I’d rather save both our time and mental energy trying to recreate our heart-breaking and excruciating conversation.In short, she hated me for ruining her life this time as she and her husband were trying to have a baby, and she needed that room for her future offspring. She, of course, hates me and wants me out but refused to pay me half the housing market price, and yeah, I nearly forgot, she didn’t want her (now still non-existent) children to be influenced by something as fucked up as a gay man.Anyway, she proceeded to be so gracious that she allowed me to live in my old room. She would let me have the bathroom connected to our rooms, as she would be using the one downstairs, but I am to have my kitchen in that room somehow and was not to step into any other part of the whole house.I was so dumbfounded as I listened to her lengthy rant that I couldn’t even react.Let me give you a small tour of our house. Downstairs is a small hall, spacious living room, kitchen, and room which used to be our parents’ bedroom with a big, beautiful bathroom with a corner bathtub, but from what I could see, Ashley had changed this bedroom into an office. Upstairs is a wide corridor leading to two big bedrooms, which were ours growing up, and in between is a long bathroom with a toilet, two sinks, a small bathtub, and a corner shower. To this bathroom are two entrances, one from each of our rooms.