Page 67 of Boy Friends
‘I’m sorry, what?’ I manage.
‘Are you boys a couple? Are you . . .’ She wrinkles her brow, grasping for the right word.
‘Dating,’ Dad offers.
‘Dating. Are you dating?’
‘Wha— What makes you say that?’ I ask, to buy time. For years, they tiptoed around the topic of Luca’s sexuality and our relationship. Now, with a single question, they’re toppling our well-established dynamic. Half of me wants to run, freaked out that what I’ve always feared is finally happening. The other half remains glued to the chair. The moment has arrived, for better or worse.
‘It’s hard to not notice,’ Dad says almost apologetically. ‘With everything that’s going on.’
It’s a weird way to describe my emotional breakdown, but I don’t exactly want to linger on the specifics. Though Mum is spending more time looking at her plate than at me, and Dad wears a worried expression, it’s not the nasty reaction I dreaded. Yet. My parents have always treated anything outside the norm as something they don’t want to touch with a stick, and I don’t expect a sudden change in attitude.
‘So?’ Mum says when I remain silent. ‘Are you dating?’
‘I don’t know,’ I say, cold sweat running down my spine.
‘What do you mean? How can you not know?’
Seriously, out of all the moments to bring it up, this is the one they pick? The timing is abysmal. If they know that Luca and I aren’t talking, why ask?
‘I mean,’ I begin, and try to breathe evenly while also attempting to translate my tangled emotions, ‘I mean we’re not a couple, and we’re not dating, and we’re not together, but maybe . . . there recently was a moment.’
Saying it makes me feel sick, and not just because I’m finally admitting something I’ve been keeping from them for years. I’m so painfully aware of the fact that there was one night with Luca where everything fell into place, only for it to crumble within a matter of hours.
‘That’s good, no?’ Dad asks with genuine sincerity. I only stare at him, confused at which bit he means. ‘I mean, we like Luca, right?’ he follows up, looking from Mum to me and back again.
‘Of course, we like Luca,’ Mum says matter-of-factly.
They’re starting to piss me off. Why are they so goddamn nonchalant?
‘Well, I don’t,’ I say and slam my cutlery on the table. It earns me a reprimanding eyebrow lift from Mum, but I currently don’t give a shit.
‘I’m confused. I thought you had a moment?’ she asks.
‘No, I’m confused! Why are you acting so chill?’
‘How would you like us to act?’
It’s the tone she uses – like she’s speaking at a parents’ evening – that drives me up a wall. Angry tears threaten to flood my eyes.
‘You hate all that! That Luca is gay and that I could be gay too!’
Dad reaches across the table. I flinch back, but he takes my hand and doesn’t let go, even when I pull away. Instead, he wraps both his hands around mine and forces me to face him.
‘Simo, listen to me. We could never hate you. Never, you hear me? You’re the most precious thing we have.’
We stare at each other, and I could be wrong, because my sight is all blurry, but I think Dad’s crying too.
Mum pulls out the chair next to mine and hands me a tissue. ‘What makes you think all that?’
I take several calming breaths, because I can barely form a sentence in the state that I’m in. I’m only a boy with limited room for big emotions. I can’t deal with so much at once.
‘You get . . . funny when you’re around Maz or Luca. Cagey. Like their presence makes you uncomfortable.’ They look surprised, but neither of them says anything, so I go on. ‘Sometimes when you talk about Luca, you use this weird tone, as if he’s beneath you. And you warned me away from “those” bars last summer.’
Mum wrings her hands, while Dad wears a shameful expression.
‘I only wanted you to be careful. I never thought . . . I didn’t think.’
