Suspicious Parents, Part I

I never thought we would get so serious. I didn't think he would be the one I would have to talk to my parents about.

We said "I love you" to each other about a month after we officially started dating. I knew I was in trouble then. A true cynic, I figured we would fall out of love before we became anything serious. But I fell harder than I thought I ever could. I was so happy and grateful to have found such a wonderful man that I wanted to be a better person. I wanted to go to church more so I could thank God for him. I even wanted to tell my parents about him. Unfortunately for me, a series of events during my first fall with him led me to keep my mouth shut.

The first happened in October. After two months, my parents noticed my phone bill. Being five hours away from your boyfriend is tough--especially when you've just started dating. I called him all the time (still do... I need to!). We kept each other up when we both had all-nighters to do. We called each other when we woke up, when we went to sleep, any time we had a break. I knew this would show up on my cell phone bill, but I hoped that my parents just didn't look at the details (we had unlimited minutes, so I figured they wouldn't have to check).

I underestimated them. One night, during a routine phone call to my mother, she asked me if I were busy with things other than school. My heart skipped a beat as I asked her what she meant. She asked me if I had a boyfriend. She knew his number. She knew his name. She knew that I knew him in high school and what clubs we were in together. I found out later that my parents called Cingular and had them tell them his name. I still don't know how she knew the other stuff about him--she probably looked at my yearbooks. Later that night, I got this email from my father:

Hi,

I tried to reach you today by 11.30pm knowing that you take somebody's phone even at 12.30am 1.30pam and evenat 3.15am. I need to know why you are talking with that boy one to one and a half hour and within few minutes after you hung up the phone he calls you back and spend another one hour talk. If you practise stupid life style you will be a shame to my family and my community. You will be a talking subject in the circle of my acquaintance giving me more shame. Don't tell me lie that it is only a friendship. I know how friends talk in India and America. Tell me who that guy is and his back ground.

Dad

I was terrified. I didn't know what to do. I knew that I was stressed with school and that I was in such an early stage in my relationship that anything could ruin it. So I lied. I called my mother the next day and laughed it off by saying he was just my gay friend who needed counseling and a shoulder to cry on. They bought it.

The next time I went home, two more things happened that made me determine not to tell my parents any time soon. One of my friends at church, a girl I had known since middle school, got found out by her parents. She had been dating a white guy for a long time and her mother finally figured it out. They locked her in the house for days. Then she ran away to her aunt's house and eventually moved in with her boyfriend. It completely shook my parents, especially with my scare in October. I talked to my other friends about it, and talked about my own situation. I told them I was thinking about telling my parents, to which one of my friends said, "Why would you do that? Don't tell them unless you know you're going to marry him. Why ruin your life over something that won't last?" I thought she was wise and kept it a secret.

Furthermore, I had a really tough semester. I dropped Organic Chemistry, got a C in Anatomy and Physiology, barely got a B in Statistics and an A in English (and that's not a big deal since it's always been my easiest subject). For a straight-A pre-med student, that's a big deal. And, I decided not to be pre-med anymore. I felt like it wasn't worth all the effort if I really didn't like it. Granted, my reasoning was also a bit colored by my relationship: I was in that lovey phase where you think about your glorious future together, and I didn't like the prospect of being a busy on-call doctor who never had time for her family. I wanted a family with him (I know, I'm crazy for thinking that far ahead just 3 months into the relationship, but I like to plan ahead! and I was head over heels in love!). So I decided to be a teacher, something my parents don't respect at all. Now if I told them about him, they would think he was the reason for my poor grades and change of heart (which I firmly deny--he was very supportive of me and tried to get me to study, and I'm back to straight A's now because of his prodding... I stupidly planned a difficult semester for myself with my workload and with a new club in which I signed up to be an officer). I couldn't have that. So I kept silent.

As I kept silent and thought about all the reasons they would hate him (he's white, his parents are divorced [meaning divorce is in his genes, obviously], and he's not Christian), I got increasingly angry. I was angry at them for claiming to be Christians while still being so prejudiced. I was angry that I couldn't talk about something so wonderful in my life. I was angry that I had to hide it, that I would even be made to feel guilty about it. My anger and my guilt over lying to my parents came between me and my faith. I had had doubts about it even during high school, when I would read the Bible every night and go to church every Sunday, but this completely severed me from my faith. I couldn't go to church and worship, knowing that I still had a qualm with my parents. There's a verse in the Bible which states that you should not offer sacrifices to God if you have an argument with your brother--you should settle things with your brother, then come to God with a clean heart. I felt like I needed to do that before I could worship again. So I stopped taking communion. I didn't want to take it again until I had told them. And the distance I imposed on myself, the anger and the guilt, made me lose touch and stop caring, stop believing. Should my parents know this, it would be one more reason to hate him, and the one they would have the hardest time coping with.

And that's why I didn't tell them during my first few months with him. Now, I wish I had taken advantage of that October night and told the truth so I could just be rid of a much larger amount of guilt and heartache.