Chapter Text
It’s been a bit of a game of chicken. I’ve been dodging him while he’s been looking for me, but I just know if we cross paths, my life, as I know it, is over.
Everything has been so fucking fine until now. No one knew; only the people who mattered, and whilst I thought my father was someone who mattered, he has always been that little bit distant. Of course, he’s been around for every birthday, Christmas and Easter, but not in the day to day; the school pickups, the doctors appointments, the family dinners each night. He exists in our lives, but he’s not present.
So, I told my mum. She’s always been there. She’s the one I count on. She’s the one who looks after everything. Dad provides for us financially, but mum provides for us physically and emotionally.
We’re a happy fucking unit, at least that’s what it looks like from the outside. Father and mother are still happily married with their two darling boys. Except, the happiness drained out of their marriage a long time ago. They still love each other; I know they do. I still see the way they look at each other, and every now and then, there is a night where every single worry and stress just disappears.
They are in love.
They dance and sing, and they cuddle up on the couch. They laugh and banter and play family games. The perfect picture of happiness.
That’s what I want.
And that’s what I’ve found.
With Charlie.
I’m so fucking happy, and mum can see it. She’s thrilled for us. Not gonna lie; I was worried. Coming out to anyone is fucking stressful. And when it’s family, parents, the ones who control whether you get to keep a roof over your head or not, it’s the worst thing in the world.
But when she accepted me and told me she loved me and then started asking questions wanting to know more, I couldn’t help but cry. And then she cried. And it was beautiful.
And then David walked in.
It’s not like we’ve ever had that amazing brotherly bond, but we are brothers after all. He’s a dickhead to me, and I’m a bit of a dickhead to him. As he gets older it seems like he’s more of a dickhead, but I guess that’s just him figuring out who he is in the world. Once you leave high school and head off to big bad university, things change, and you’re no longer top dog. He’ll figure his shit out. Eventually.
But until then, he’ll keep giving me shit. And he did when he saw my tears. Called me a mummy’s boy and a crybaby. Mum shooed him away pretty quick. And then, in that moment, I just knew that I wouldn’t be able to come out to him either.
He’s a person who matters, just like dad, but they just don’t matter enough. Yet.
So, while Charlie and I don’t hide our relationship, pretty much everyone at school knows we’re together, it’s not something I speak about with David or dad. And I guess I knew they would find out eventually. It was inevitable. Gossip spreads quickly, and when you’re the only out “gay couple” at an all boys school where there has never been one before, well, I guess that’s just part of being a trailblazer.
I wouldn’t give it up for anything. I’ll never give Charlie up. He’s so important to me, and I know it hasn’t been long, and we’re still young, but I really have never been more sure about anything in my life. He is certainty. He is forever.
I will not compromise me and Charlie for anything.
Or anyone.
Even dad.
So, of course, he found out. I’m not quite sure how, but I could see it on his face. And it just so happened to be on a day where David had a massive success and mum had cooked up a big celebration dinner to congratulate him. Dad was on his best behaviour.
But something had shifted. I could see by the way he looked at me. He restrained himself all night. And then during a relatively light conversation he said, “But what about those fags, hey?”
And everyone just stopped. It had nothing to do with the conversation, but it was his not so subtle way of telling us all he knew. He was eyeballing me with the dirtiest scowl I have ever seen, and if I hadn’t already planned to meet Charlie that night, I would have legged it out of the house anyway.
I’m not ready to face his wrath. I wasn’t really sure how he would react when he found out, but I didn’t think it would be so bad.
So, the game of chicken it is.
He works early mornings and late hours, how the hell else does he bring in so much money? He loves his work; I think now that he knows I’m not straight, he loves it even more. He doesn’t even know, or probably even care, that I’m not gay, but he will assume what he wants, and he will do whatever he can to let me know his opinions.
But I don’t want his opinions.
I make sure he’s out of the house before I leave for school and am either in bed or out of the house when he gets home. I spend all my time with Charlie on the weekends. It’s cowardly, I know.
And I feel bad for my mum. She barely sees me anymore, but I really don’t know what would happen now if we’re all in the same room together.
Sometimes I catch dad on the way in or out and I just make sure to not make eye contact. A couple of times he’s tried to speak to me, and I’ve bolted. I’m not hanging around to listen to his homophobia. And I guess I could give him the benefit of the doubt and hear him out; he might be totally okay with it, but judging by the way he looks at me, he is totally not okay with it.
This weekend, though, I’m trapped at home. Charlie had to go with his family to some distant relative’s wedding. It always amazes me how when someone gets married, all of a sudden, family means more than just a loose blood tie. People don’t tie the knot for the same reasons anymore, they just want as many people around them as possible so they can show off their sickly sweet happiness and receive as many gifts as possible.
Guests attend out of duty, because ‘it’s the right thing to do’, but in the end, it’s just another obligation to uphold to people who don’t otherwise mean anything to you.
Charlie and I are sickly sweet in love. We hear it often enough from our friends. And I guess we’re still in that ‘honeymoon phase’, but I don’t ever see us coming out of it. God, I hope we never fall out of it. I want to be in love with Charlie forever. I know I will be in love with Charlie forever. I want people to be grossed out by how sickly sweet we are for the rest of our lives. We don’t need a wedding to prove that. I’m not going to pull random family members away from their important lives just to show off how fucking happy we are.
So, I might be a little bit upset with weddings at the moment. I doubt it will always be that way. But I’m missing Charlie, and it means I have to be at home this weekend, and dad is home, and I don’t know how much longer we can avoid each other.
So far, he’s not come into my room; he’s not sought me out. I only enter the kitchen for food when he’s not around. Mum often looks at me with sad eyes. I want us all to be happy again.
I’m rummaging through the fridge; I haven’t eaten all day, afraid of bumping into him, and I found a moment when the coast was clear. Well, at least I thought the coast was clear.
“Nicholas.” The voice is firm, commanding.
He only ever calls me Nicholas when he means business. David is always David. He’s always preferred David. But I’ve always preferred Nick, so when either of my parents call me Nicholas, I know I’m about to be in trouble.
I pause with my head in the fridge. I’m not sure I want to turn around. I know he’ll be standing there with his arms folded and that stupid stern, judgemental face that’s going to tell me all the reasons why I should not be with Charlie.
And I just don’t want to do that right now.
I want to eat some fucking breakfast at 2pm because it’s the first chance I’ve had all day to be able to do so, and he’s found the fucking opportunity to bail me up and I’m just not ready.
I pull the orange juice from the door and shut the fridge slowly. If I’m going to be criticised, I’m going to make him wait, and I’m going to at least enjoy some chilled vitamin c while it happens.
I take a glass from the cupboard and put it on the bench in front of me. I’m still not looking at him, but he still hasn’t said anything else. He will not leave, but he will not ask me again. The longer I make him wait, the happier I feel, but my fear also escalates at the same rate.
I pour my cup of orange juice, return the carton to the fridge, take a small sip, and then slowly turn around.
I was right. His arms are crossed, hands tucked under his armpits. His eyebrows are furrowed into deep peaks over his eyes, framing the disgust oozing out of them. His lips are pursed. He’s relatively controlled. He wants to spit words at me, but something is holding him back. I’m not quite sure what.
“Dad.” I say it gently. I know I’ve pushed the boundary already, so I don’t want to give him too much attitude. This is already going to be bad for me.
He takes a deep breath, as if he’s trying to calm himself down, trying to restrain himself. I would have thought the three weeks since he found out would have been enough to calm him down, but I guess the longer things go unresolved, the more they stew, and perhaps he is angrier now than he would have been if we’d had the discussion on that day.
I guess that’s a lesson for another time, to deal with things in the moment rather than letting them fester, but for this time, I’m going to have to deal with the fallout.
I’m waiting for him to speak. He’s taking his damn time. I wonder how many things are going through his head; is he filtering through a list of words, ways he can hurt me? Will he kick me out? Oh God, will he actually accept me?
I really don’t want to get my hopes up, but the more he looks at me without speaking, restraining himself from whatever it is he wants to be saying, the more it seems like he’s trying really hard to be good about it all.
“You will call me Father.” Every hope of a positive reaction is shattered.
Father. How impersonal. Is it really that bad? Am I less of a son to him now?
“Father?”
“Yes. That is how you will address me.”
“Ummm, okay.” I’m kind of in shock. I don’t quite know what to do about it. But I guess it’s not the worst thing that could have happened. He hasn’t kicked me out. Yet.
“Why?” He says only a single word, but it holds so much behind it. I’m not really sure what he wants to know. There are so many answers to that question. He needs to be more specific.
All I can manage in response is, “Why, what?” and I know it sounds like attitude and disrespect, and that was everything I was trying to avoid, but it really is the only thing I can say because I truly don’t know what he wants.
“Why would you fuck up our family like this!” He’s yelling now. His restraint is gone.
I wonder where mum is. Perhaps she went out. Maybe this is why he’s taking his chance now. Where’s David? Why is it just the two of us alone?
It’s a lot to assume that me being with Charlie has fucked up the whole family. I know I’ve been ducking in and out a lot, missing a lot of things, but everything else is still normal. The three of them are still normal. Aren’t they?
“I… I haven’t…” It comes out as a stammer. I was so confident to begin with, but now that seems to have left me. He’s always been the powerhead; he’s intimidating at the best of times. This is certainly not the best of times.
“Of course, you have! What the hell are you thinking?”
“About what?” I’m kind of playing dumb, but I want him to spell it out for me. I want him to confirm that he’s pissed off about Charlie; that he doesn’t want me dating a boy.
“It’ll never get you anywhere you know!”
“What won’t?” My temper is flaring. I got my anger from him. He won’t admit it. He won’t say the words.
“Is it attention you want? Did I fail to give you enough attention?”
I don’t know how to answer him. I’ve always wanted his attention. What son doesn’t want their dad at their rugby matches cheering them on? What son doesn’t want their father to know what’s happening with their friends at school? What son doesn’t want their father to know what he bought him for Christmas, rather than being shocked at a gift revealing an interest he was unaware of?
Of course, I want his fucking attention. But if I say yes, that will just confirm everything he thinks. I just want him to say the fucking words.
“Attention? You wouldn’t give me your attention if I wanted it.”
“Well, you have my attention now, Nicholas! Is it everything you wanted?” He’s running with it anyway.
“I don’t see what the problem is. Tell me what your problem is!” Just say the fucking words damnit.
“Do you take me for a fool?”
“Not at all.”
“Then why did I have to find out from someone else?”
“Is that what this is all about? That I didn’t tell you?”
“It’s about way more than that. And you know it!”
“Actually, I don’t. Because you won’t say it.”
“What am I supposed to say? Tell me, when my friends come to me and they say, Hey Stephane, guess what, we saw your son, the younger one, Nicholas. He was in the street kissing some boy.” Oh, so that’s how he found out. “Some boy! Some boy! Nicholas. Tell me! How am I supposed to answer when my friends tell me my son was kissing a boy in the street?!”
His anger is over the top. I’m not quite sure if he is angry about me kissing a boy, or that he had to find out from his friends. I guess it’s both. Because if he cared at all about the fact that I’m not straight, he would be asking about Charlie rather than just yelling at me.
I haven’t answered him; there is nothing I can say that will make it better. There’s no point even trying.
“You’re disgusting, Nicholas.” I was not expecting that. “You’ll never amount to anything special as a faggot! You know that right?”
“I…” He interrupts me.
“I cannot believe that one of my sons is a fag!”
“Dad, you can’t say that!”
“You will call me Father! Or if you can’t manage that, you can address me as sir!” Fuck. “I did not raise you to be gay!”
“I’m not gay. I’m bisexual, actually!” Not like he really deserves an explanation.
“Like that fucking matters.” All of this just proves I was right not to tell him.
“I suppose it doesn’t matter to you. Because you don’t care about who I am.”
“Of course, I care. I care that you represent this family well. I don’t know how you turned out this way. This was not my doing. Who the fuck turned you gay?”
It’s pointless. This conversation is going nowhere. I need to get out. I start to leave the kitchen while he continues snarling at me with such aggression. His words sting. He’s coming at me from every angle. His words are venom and they’re cutting deep.
I remind myself he is not right. Charlie is right. Charlie is right for me. I am right for Charlie. There is nothing wrong with who I am, or who he is, or who we are together.
The only thing that is wrong is my dad and his archaic views of the world.
I knew it wouldn’t be great. I didn’t think it would be this bad.
I’m walking out the front door, I don’t know where I’m going to go. Charlie isn’t here. I don’t want to see my mates. I want to see Charlie. I think I’ll go to his house anyway. I’ll just sit by the front door. I can still feel close to him even if he’s not there. Maybe I can FaceTime him. I just need to see his face. I need him to remind me that everything will be okay.
Just before the door closes behind me, I hear his final blow.
“You’re the last thing I wanted, Nicholas! You’re the last thing I need! I’m so fucking ashamed of you!”
And that’s what it took. I start running. I cannot see for the tears in my eyes, but I don’t need to see to find my way to Charlie’s house. I could find it blindfolded in the middle of the night. I know it by heart. I know how many steps and how many corners. It’s etched in my brain forever.
Because he is important. Because he is right. Because he is what I need.
I will make it to Charlie’s house. I will cry. I will try to call him.
Eventually I will go home. But I have no idea what home will look like from this point forward.