Page 39 of Boy Friends
‘You didn’t deny it.’
‘Fine. I’ve not met anyone since Poppy. Happy?’
‘Why would that make me happy?’
‘That’s not entirely true,’ I chime in. ‘A few years back there was that g—’
‘There wasn’t.’
Now he’s straight up lying. I very much remember the guy sleeping in Dad’s bed. ‘I’ve been meaning to ask, whatever happened with Hen—’
‘That’s enough.’
It only takes two words, but Dad’s tone drops from chilly to frostbite. Every sound in the cafe ceases. Dad never raiseshis voice at me. His face is blotched, and I instantly realise two things: Dad’s parents don’t know he’s gay, and he’s terrified they’ll find out.
The revelation strips me of feeling. The room remains frozen; a real-life version of that painting where four lonely people gather in a diner late at night.
My grandparents weren’t bothered when I told them I’m gay, so what does Dad have to be scared of? And why do I keep finding out more and more things that he’s been hiding? We’re not talking chocolate bars sneakily stored behind the mugs we never use. He’s hiding stuff that completely alters the Dad I know.
We might still be there, sat together yet strangely apart, if not for Simo. The bell above the door chimes and, with a gust of air, life returns to the cafe. I have never been more relieved to see him.
I latch on to his smile, to the familiarity of his freckled face. It gives me the strength I need to take this newly gained fact about Dad and file it away into a dark corner of my brain, at least for the moment.
‘Anna, Graham,’ I say, a wobble in my voice, ‘this is my friend Simo.’
He stands next to my chair, and as he places a hand on my shoulder, I notice the tremor in my muscles. It ebbs away at his touch, the warmth of his fingers sinking into my skin. A look passes between us, so brief that it goes unnoticed, but that’s all Simo needs to realise something is up. He jumps into action.
‘It’s really nice to meet you,’ he addresses my grandparents, his voice working its charm.
Anna’s eyes twinkle. She raises herself up and swallows Simo in an embrace before Graham pulls him into one of those manly handshake-hugs.
‘The pleasure is all ours,’ Anna declares with a voice like velvet. She looks enchanted.
I know the feeling. I know it well.
CHAPTER 16 – SIMO
October comes
claws at the skin
strips branches of their leaves
till only roots remain
Half-hidden from sight beneath Lorca’s poetry collection is my notebook, sketches of daisies littering the pages. Words fill the spaces between the flowers, drawn in sharp black lines that make them look more like weeds with angry edges.
November nears
draws light from skies
the sun out of the sea
till only roots remain
Dad’s daisies have reduced in number and colour. The few that are left in the garden have their heads hanging, slowly giving up on the hope of catching sunlight. I stare out at them a lot from my window on the first floor.
daisies grow
