Page 57 of Boy Friends
‘And then what?’ she says.
‘At which point did someone chop those last two trees down and plonk the noticeboard there instead?
‘You’re not understanding the point—’
‘That’s a horrible, awful story. Who came up with itanyway? I’m no book nerd, but I know a plot hole when I see one, and this story is the Swiss cheese of plot holes. It makes no sense.’
Miss M tuts in disapproval, then sniffs the air. ‘Do you smell that? I think someone’s eating pizza.’
‘Thanks, Miss M,’ I say and place a kiss on her papery cheek, grateful for the distraction she offered. Grateful to have her in my life.
‘Silly boy! Think about what I just told you. You might learn something!’ she shouts as I dash out the door.
The smell of olive oil on warm bread fills the staircase, and I almost fall down the steps in my rush to get back to our flat.
‘How’s Miss M?’ Dad asks when I enter the lounge.
‘She told me to ask Simo for his hand in marriage unless I want to turn into an apple tree.’ Dad nods, like he expected nothing less. ‘Um, I know we eat a lot, but this –’ I wave to the tower of boxes on the coffee table – ‘will feed us for a week.’
‘Tell that to Daniel. I asked for two margheritas, and I got pear and Gorgonzola, honey and chilli, Parmesan and rucola, a load of garlic bread, a bowl of pumpkin ravioli and half a tray of tiramisu, plus salad and a ton of olives.’
My eyes dart from him to the food and back again. ‘If I can just throw this out there . . .’
‘Don’t,’ Dad warns.
‘. . . I’d say Daniel likes you.’
We’ve not exchanged banter like this in a minute, but Dad’s lips twitch in a way that shows me he’s OK.
‘He just feels guilty for drinking all my coffee.’
‘Or he likes you.’
‘Eat and be quiet, child.’ He holds up a fork and a bowl of ravioli, and because I’m happy to be bribed with pasta, I do as I’m told.
Two hours later, Cate Blanchett’s performance as Carol, a mother who falls for a younger woman but is trapped in a straight marriage, has me crying into my dessert. Dad keeps dabbing his eyes with his sleeve.
‘Carol’s right, you know,’ he says with a croaky voice.
‘Huh?’ I say, and wipe my nose with a tissue.
‘What she says about being a parent. How she can’t be a good mum if she lives against her own nature.’
‘Dad, I literally just stopped crying.’
‘No, listen.’ He turns to me, his face serious. ‘When you were born, I didn’t just come out for myself. I came out for you. For my son, who should never be anyone but himself. How could I be a good example to you if I was scared of myself? As a teenager, I’d felt so much shame. My parents made it clear that a gay son wasn’t going to be tolerated beneath their roof. They might have come a long way, but I’m having a hard time letting go of years of fear and mistrust. As you might have noticed. That’s why, when I knew I was going to be a dad, I made a promise that you wouldn’t have to feel shame for anything ever. And in that way, you freed me.’
‘Dad,’ I say, but that’s all I get out before I have to reach for another tissue. I can see that he’s struggling from the way he takes several long breaths before he continues.
‘Poppy and I had a deal. Once you were born, we’d stop pretending. We weren’t meant to be a couple, and we didn’twant that to come between us being friends. We were so much better as friends. I didn’t expect it, but I loved being a dad. I loved my little family of three, and I’d never been happier. For the first time I didn’t pretend to be someone else. I had Poppy and I had you. That’s all I needed.’
He reaches out and wipes my cheek with his thumb. For a few seconds, he keeps it there, before his expression clouds over. ‘Leave it to my parents to destroy my little utopia. But it’s not their fault, is it? Not entirely. I thought I’d changed since leaving them behind, but a minute in their presence and I fall into old habits. I don’t like who I become around them. And once again, it was you who reminded me that I can’t give up on myself, because that would mean giving up on you. And in this life, you’re the best thing that’s happened to me.’
He lifts an arm, and I don’t hesitate. I snuggle close, and it’s the best feeling in the world. He places his chin on my head and holds me until I run out of tears.
‘Your mum also gave me a good talking to. Called me an anger muppet.’
‘She never lectures me, you know.’
