Proud of me, p.14
Proud of Me, page 14
Whenever someone comes in, I just sit there silently and listen as they tell me how they know Mum or nod along as they ask me about school. But luckily they never stay long, no one’s much interested in a thirteen-year-old boy, they just want to catch up with old friends and shriek over how young everyone looks in the photos.
I steer well clear of the embarrassing dancing – I so don’t want to get dragged into that – but when I finally leave the kitchen to go to the loo, I catch a glimpse of Becky dancing with Archie – her skirt flying, the glitter sparkling on her face, her hair coming loose with curls escaping, head thrown back laughing. She looks so happy. So free.
And then it’s over.
The last people are getting their coats and looking for their car keys. Some left early – because of babysitters or long journeys home – others almost need pushing out of the door. Archie went home an hour ago with his mum, after she stopped in for a drink and to say happy birthday to Mum.
“Message me,” he whispered in my ear as we hugged goodbye. “I want to know the whole story. Are you sure you don’t want me to stay over, so I’m here when you tell your mums?”
“No, but I will tell you everything, I promise.”
Once the last guest has waved goodbye, Mum turns the music off and shuts the French windows. The silence rings in my ears. The house feels huge and empty. It’s just the four of us – and Auntie Jackie – left.
“It’s so late. We should all go to bed, especially you two,” says Ima, stifling a yawn, but she doesn’t move from her spot on the sofa. No one else stirs either. Her head is leaning on Mum’s shoulder and they both have their shoes off and their feet up on the coffee table. Now that we’ve stopped, none of us can summon up the energy to move again. I’m too keyed up to sleep anyway. I can feel the pressure building in my chest from the words I’ve been waiting to say.
“All those people,” sighs Mum. “Some I haven’t even thought about in years. You must have spent ages chasing them up. Sadie looks just the same though, doesn’t she?”
“Uh huh.” Ima nods. “Not like Peter. Old and fat now, I hardly recognized him.”
“Nothing wrong with old and fat. I’m old and fat now too,” says Mum sleepily.
“No, you’re not,” I protest.
“Old and fat,” she says again, not really listening to me. “But wise too, remember. It’s good to have lived a bit. And good to celebrate it.”
Auntie Jackie is still on her feet and, unlike the rest of us, looking as fresh and smart as she did at the beginning of the evening.
“Never mind the mess, we can sort all of that in the morning,” she says.
“It is the morning,” corrects Mum.
“After we’ve been to bed, I mean. Anyone want a final cup of tea? Or hot chocolate? I’ll get the kettle on.”
“Hot chocolate sounds perfect,” says Ima, as Mum and I nod in agreement. “And is there any of that cake left? I’m not quite sure I’m old and fat enough yet, to be honest, and I’m sure another slice of that cake will help. It’s out of this world.”
“There’s a little bit. I’ll bring in the plate and some spoons,” says Jackie. “Josh, what about you?”
Josh is slumped in our old squashy armchair, his legs hanging over one of its arms. His eyes are shut, but I think he’s still awake. Just. He doesn’t speak or open his eyes, only shakes his head.
“Did you have a good day, Mum?” I ask when Auntie Jackie puts the tray of mugs down on the coffee table.
“I had an unforgettable day,” she says, rubbing her eyes. “A day full of surprises. I feel very lucky.”
“It’s just, well, as we’re all here, there’s something I’d like to tell you all.”
“Oh?” says Mum, smiling. “Is this yet another birthday surprise?”
At exactly the same time, Ima leans forward and says, “What? What is it, Becky?” in a worried voice.
Josh opens his eyes, suddenly alert. He thinks I’m about to tell on him to Mum and Ima. “It’s late, I’m going to bed,” he says, swinging his feet down and sliding forward in his chair. So, before he can go anywhere, I have to blurt it out.
“Josh, hold on.” He hovers reluctantly, so I keep going. “I don’t know if it is a surprise exactly.” I look over at Ima. “It’s nothing to worry about. And I’m not in trouble. It’s…” I take a deep breath. “I’m gay.”
Once I’ve said the words, everything seems to stop, like someone has pressed the pause button or muted the volume. The silence feels like it’s going to go on for ever.
I can’t stand it when no one says anything, so I start talking again just to fill up the silence. “There, that’s all. Just thought you’d like to know. I haven’t got a girlfriend or anything in case you were wondering.”
Still no one says anything.
“This is the bit where you all say how much you still love me, and then we can go to bed.”
“Of course, of course we love you, Becks,” says Ima, shaking her head. “But are you sure you’re gay? I mean, you’re only thirteen. You don’t have to know now, there’s plenty of time to work things out. It’s just, I never thought…but how likely is it?”
No one’s crashed their car at the announcement, but I’d hoped for something better than this. Perhaps I imagined we’d all have a giant group hug, like in a TV drama, and say how much we loved each other. But that was a stupid idea. That’s not real life.
Instead, Ima doesn’t even sound like she believes me. She doesn’t even trust me to know my own mind. But she, out of everyone, should understand that I’m not making this up.
“What do you mean, ‘likely’?” I ask Ima. “It’s not ‘likely’. It just is.”
“I want you to be sure. I mean, don’t rush into anything, I don’t want you to make your life harder. I want you to be happy.”
Everything about today has been too much: the early start, the late night, the worries about Josh, the overheard conversation between Neil and Auntie Jackie. All too much. I can feel all the fear and anger and worry bubbling away inside me, and now it’s overflowing. I’ve had enough.
“What?” I shout. “And does happy mean being straight? I don’t believe you’re saying this!”
I’m too angry to stay still, so I get up and start pulling down some of the decorations. “You’re not thinking about me. This is about you. Just because it was hard for you, doesn’t mean it’s going to be hard for me. Things are different now. It’s not the Dark Ages any more, like when you were young. I thought you’d be pleased. But you’re not – you’re just like Archie’s mum, you’re just like everyone else.”
“Becky, come on, listen, that wasn’t what I meant…” Ima comes over and puts her hand on my shoulder, but I shake it off. “I just worry about you. You might lose friends or not be able to do all the things you want to. People still say hateful things, you know.”
“Be quiet, Ruth,” says Mum firmly, turning to Ima. “Just be quiet. Becky’s right. It’s different for her generation. It doesn’t matter so much today.”
“Maybe not so much, but it’s still there,” Ima says. She touches Mum’s arm. “You don’t know this, Anna, but when I asked Carli’s mum if they wanted to come to the surprise party—”
“You did what? When?” I exclaim.
“It was when I picked you up from their fancy house, you must have still been upstairs.” Ima waves her hand. “It doesn’t matter when. The point is I invited her and she was all smiles – right until the moment she realized I had a wife and not the husband she assumed I did. Then suddenly, she said they had other plans.”
“Okay,” says Mum. “I’m not saying that these things don’t still happen and, yes, it might not always have been easy for us, but look, now we’ve got our home, our family, our work. We even got married. I mean, who would have thought that ever could have happened?”
The look between them is so intense that I have to turn away. It’s like I’m not here any more, like this is no longer about me at all.
“I know,” says Ima, slumping back down onto the sofa, head in hands. “I just thought we could prove them wrong, that’s all.”
“Prove who wrong?” I ask. Now I’m more confused than angry.
“Life’s not a competition,” says Mum. “It doesn’t matter what other people say, what they think. No one else gets to decide the right way to be us, only us.”
“What are you talking about?” I say again.
Ima sighs. “Okay. We knew there were other same-sex couples having kids when we first started talking about becoming parents. But we didn’t know any personally. Not even one. So we always felt we had to prove ourselves at every step, you know, be the best parents possible, better than any straight couple, perfect. We had to be mother, father, everything. My family made it clear pretty early on that they wanted very little to do with us, all of them except Noah. It’s not been easy for him either, caught between us. For my parents, well, even if they lived nearer, I’m not sure how much we’d see them. I think they care more about what people think than about their own daughter’s happiness or getting to know their grandchildren.” She sounds sad, but angry too.
“But that’s not going to happen to me,” I protest. “Things are totally different now.” And, I think but don’t say, it’s different because you’re my parents and you’re gay. If anyone should understand, if anyone should be there no matter what life throws at me, it should be you.
Ima carries on, almost like she hasn’t heard me.
“That made us more determined for you not to miss out on anything. People would still make comments though. Comments about how having no dad would stop you being able to relate to men, or that having gay parents would make a child gay. All nonsense. I thought we could show them they were wrong.” She sighs again. “I know, now that I say it out loud, it sounds so ridiculous.”
“I’m straight,” says Josh. His voice is hoarse. “You don’t have to worry about me.”
I spin round to look at him, my arms full of tattered streamers. “Thanks, Josh, that really helps, you know.” I hope he realizes how sarcastic I’m being.
“Becky and Josh,” says Mum slowly. “You two are the best thing to ever happen to us. We are so proud of you both. This news did come as a bit of a surprise, Becky, but maybe that’s because we should have been paying closer attention to what’s going on in your life. I bet it wasn’t a surprise to you, was it?” she asks softly.
I shake my head. “At first it was. But I think that was only cos I’d been trying to ignore my feelings. I didn’t want to tell you right away. I didn’t want you to think, I don’t know, that I was copying you or something. I didn’t want any hassle.” I glare at Ima, who looks away. “But then I did want to tell you. Because I didn’t want to keep secrets any more. But perhaps I was right first time. I never should have said anything.”
I’m still angry but beginning to calm down. Until Josh opens his big mouth.
“But what about me, Becks?” he interrupts. “You could have talked to me. Why the big secret?”
I can’t believe that he’s making out like I’m the one keeping secrets, when he’s the one with something to hide. I don’t care any more about whether he gets into trouble or not. I’ve had enough.
As soon as I say the words, I know I’ve made a big mistake. The biggest. All the attention has been on Becky. Now suddenly it’s on me.
When Becky’s angry, it’s best just to ignore her and wait until the storm’s over, but I’m not thinking clearly right now. My head’s pounding. I’m so tired. It feels like today has gone on for ever and it’s never going to end. I’m certainly not ready for an argument.
“Oh,” says Becky, pointing at me, her eyes flashing. “Oh, so you’re the one to talk about secrets, are you? Everything about your life is an open book, is it?”
“Becky…please…” I groan. But I know what’s coming.
“So you weren’t off all day today, without telling anyone where you were going, in Manchester meeting some stranger off the internet?”
Becky’s leaning over me now. I get to my feet shakily, so that we’re face to face, eye to eye. I remember how angry I am with her, with everybody.
“Shut up, Becky! How do you know I was in Manchester? How do you know what I was doing? Eh? The only way you know is cos you went snooping through my stuff.”
“Yeah, and so what? Wouldn’t you have done the same? I was worried about you. I wanted to know if you were okay. And you landed me in it. You expected me to cover for you, without even bothering to tell me why.” Her voice is on the point of cracking. We’re both shouting now.
“Stop! Both of you!” shouts Mum. We turn to look at her. If Mum loses her cool, then you know it’s serious. “Everyone sit down and let’s talk about this like normal people. Now, what is this, Josh? What’s Becky talking about? You weren’t here today?”
“Not exactly, not all day,” I say. Becky snorts. “It doesn’t matter. I’m here now.”
“I think it does matter actually. It matters a lot,” Ima says crisply. “And what’s this about meeting someone off the internet? That’s serious – unless your mum is going to tell me I’m overreacting about that as well.”
“Of course not,” says Mum. “But first I think Josh needs to tell us what’s going on.”
“It wasn’t like that, it’s not how it sounds. I was perfectly safe.”
“So what was it like?” says Mum.
“Look, I was chatting to someone in this online group—”
“What, you mean Becky’s right?” cries Ima, throwing her hands in the air. “Have we taught you nothing? Anything could have happened to you! Anything!”
“What sort of group?” asks Mum.
“Okay, I’ll tell you, but you’re not to be angry.”
“I think it’s a bit late for that,” chips in Auntie Jackie. She’s been so quiet that I’d forgotten she was still here. Mum even manages a weak smile. “You need to tell us, Josh.”
“I joined this group. It’s for people like me who are…”
I look around at their faces, all turned towards me. Mum and Ima listening anxiously, Becky looking more confused than angry now, Auntie Jackie leaning calmly against the door. My family.
“…people who are donor-conceived and are looking for the rest of their families,” I carry on without looking up. “It’s just a chat group really, but then I found this guy, Eli. And I think – I mean, I thought…oh, I don’t know – that he might be my brother. Don’t you see? I had to meet him. I had to find out.”
“Whoa, that’s enough,” says Ima. “What on earth have you been doing? Scouring the web for some stranger who might happen to have some of the same genes as you? Are you serious? He could have been anybody. I can’t believe you would be so stupid.”
“And this was in Manchester? You went to Manchester to meet him? Today?” asks Mum, still confused.
“Manchester, London, Timbuktu, who cares? I went to meet him. We talked. We had a McDonald’s. You wouldn’t have known if the trains hadn’t been delayed. That’s all. It’s not like I’ve been recruited into some criminal gang or been doing drugs or something. Why can’t you just leave it?”
“But, Josh, I don’t get it,” says Mum. She leans in and, even though I don’t want to, I can see the hurt in her eyes. I quickly turn away. “I’m sorry, but I don’t. All this sneaking around… How could you ever think that was a good idea? Why didn’t you just talk to us? If this really matters to you, we could have talked about it. I’m sure there are plenty of ways to find out more about your donor if that’s what you really want. We could have done it together.”
“But we never do talk about it, do we? We talk about everything else, but no one ever even mentions the donor. The person who’s our dad.” Mum winces at the word “dad”, just for a moment, but enough for me to notice. “It’s like you told us the story when we were kids, and then that was that, we all moved on. Except I don’t want to move on. I’m old enough to know now.”
There’s a moment when I think Mum’s going to agree, when she’s going to reach over and stroke my hair and tell me it’s all going to be okay.
Instead, she just shakes her head and says quietly, “We’ve been working too much. Perhaps if I’d been around more, listened more…”
Ima turns to Mum, even angrier now.
“Anna, that’s got nothing to do with it. This isn’t your fault. Right now, Josh isn’t behaving like he’s old enough to be trusted with anything – sneaking round behind our backs, putting himself at risk, letting his sister down…”
“What about you letting me down?” I shout. “I’ve got a right to know who my dad is, who I am. You don’t understand what it’s like being the only guy in the family, you just don’t get it and never will, and now I might have a brother and all you want to do is stop me seeing him.”
Suddenly everyone starts talking at once. My head feels like it’s going to explode.
“Okay, okay,” says Mum, cutting through the noise. “There’s a lot to take in here. Let’s stop now, before we get even more upset. We can talk about this tomorrow when we’re calmer. We all need some sleep.”
“But, Anna—”
“It’s my birthday,” says Mum wearily. “At least, it was my birthday an hour or so ago, so you all have to listen to me. And I say it’s bedtime – now go.”
“See what I mean?” I mutter to Becky, breathing deeply to stop the tears coming. “They still won’t talk about it.” But really I’m glad that Mum has put a stop to all the shouting.
