Read Me Like a Book (28 page)

Mum’s talking to Dad and Elaine as I enter the kitchen. I notice Elaine’s left hand is clenched tightly as she talks.

“Ashleigh.” She gives me a hug I didn’t ask for as I join them. “We were just saying — you’ve done yourself proud, getting into university. You’ll be a graduate before Jayce even starts a course, by the looks of things.”

“You all set for it, love?” Dad asks, looking awkward and out of place in a kitchen he owned for twenty years.

“I hope so.”

Jayce stands next to me in the doorway.

“When am I going to do it?” I whisper. “I can’t get Mum on her own.”

I’m sure she suspects. She doesn’t want to hear it. She’s doing everything she can to avoid giving me the chance to tell her. Well, tough. She’s going to have to listen. I’m not going to hide what I am just because she doesn’t like it.

Jayce pulls me into the living room. “Why don’t we just tell them all?”

Tell Dad?

“You’ll have to tell him one day,” Jayce says, reading my mind.

“Oh, God, whose stupid idea was this?”

“Yours,” he says, laughing. “And it’s a good one. We’ll do it together. All of them in one go.”

I take a deep breath. “OK.”

He tosses a coin to see who goes first, and I lose as I knew I would.

“Good luck.” Jayce hugs me and nudges me back toward the kitchen. “I’m right behind you.”

I pour myself another glass of wine, knock it straight back, and pour another one for afterward. My heart’s pounding so fast and so hard in my chest that it’s snatching my breath away. I feel like I’ve just run a mile.

Everyone’s in the kitchen.

OK, here we go.

“Um . . .” I say in a quiet voice. No one looks up. They’re deep in conversation. Why am I doing this?

Jayce comes to my side and clears his throat. “’Scuse me,” he says, his voice wobbling.

Elaine looks up. “What’s the matter, darling?”

This is it, then. Last chance to escape. I could sneak out, run off, make something up.

But I want to get to the other side of this. I want it done. Jayce looks at me.

“There’s . . . um . . . there’s something we want to tell you.”

Elaine turns to me. Mum and Dad stop talking and look over at me too. I stare back at them, not seeing anyone.

“What is it, love?” Mum says quietly.

How long have I been standing in front of everyone, a full wineglass in my hand, my mouth opening and closing but nothing coming out?

I glance at Mum. I think about what she’s been through this year — what we’ve been through together. How it felt, for a while, as if we’d become best friends, and then how it all seemed to change — how we somehow stopped being able to communicate with each other again. I look at Dad, smiling benignly at me from a million miles away.

Will this bring us closer or make that chasm impossible to cross forever?

Then I think about the white-haired woman with the map. No going back. I’m letting go of the branch, reaching for the rope.

“I, er, I just want to say thanks for the presents,” I mumble.

Dad smiles.

Mum looks surprised. “Is that it?” she asks.

Just do it. Just say it. It’s only fear.

“No,” I whisper.

The kitchen is totally silent.

I’ll hold my breath while you jump.

“There’s something else, something I want you to know.”
It doesn’t matter if neither of them can look you in the face again,
I keep saying to myself.
You’re going to university next month.

Jayce nods at the glass of wine in my hand that was meant for afterward, and I take a slug of it. He smiles at me and takes hold of my hand while I carry on. “I don’t know if you’ve guessed already, or if it’s going to come as a shock”— I take another gulp of wine and wipe my mouth —“but I’m gay.”

Silence.

“That’s it. I’m gay.”

Mum stares at me.

Dad looks at me, then at Jayce. “But I thought . . .”

“Leave it, Gordon.” Elaine grabs his hand.

Mum covers her face with her hands. Oh, God. She’s shaking her head. My legs start to give way.

Then this amazing thing happens. Mum moves her hands. She’s smiling.

“At last!” she says. Then she holds her arms out toward me. I let go of Jayce’s hand to go to her. I fall into her arms as she hugs me. Then she holds me away from her and looks into my eyes. “I’ve been waiting for you to tell me,” she says.

“But — but these last few weeks . . .” I stammer.

“I know. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want to be the one to bring it up. I wanted it to happen when
you
were ready. And then it just seemed to get in the way.”

“But you’ve been so —”

“I’ve been wanting you to tell me. I think I forgot how to talk about anything else. I’m sorry, Ash.” She hugs me again. “You could have told me a long time ago, you know.”

“I didn’t even
know
a long time ago.”

“Well, I did,” she says and kisses me on the cheek. “And I’m proud of you, whatever you are.”

It’s official, then.
Everyone
knew I was gay before I did.

Or maybe not quite everyone.

I turn around just in time to see Dad leaving the kitchen. Elaine goes out after him. I follow them into the hall. Dad’s putting on his coat.

“Dad . . .”

He doesn’t reply.

“Dad, where are you going? Elaine, what’s going on?”

Elaine turns to me. “He’s got a bit of a stomachache coming on and thought he’d better leave you to it. Didn’t want to ruin the meal.”

“Dad.” I go to touch his arm, and he pulls it away from me as though I’m infected.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I — I just don’t want to talk about it, Ash.”

“Dad, give me some respect. You could at least tell me the truth, not make up stupid lies about a stomachache.”

“Respect?” he says, his voice gravelly. His eyes have moisture in the corners. “Lies? Really, Ashleigh?”

“Gordon.” Elaine’s voice is tight. “A lot of teenagers go through phases like this. It won’t help if you make it into more than it —”

“It’s not a phase.”

Elaine stops and looks at me. “What, dear?”

“I said it’s not a phase.” Anger is starting to burn into my cheeks and around the sides of my neck. “I’m gay. It’s what I am. You don’t have to like it, but it’s true, Dad, and ignoring me won’t make it any different.”

Dad looks into my face for a moment, his eyelids low over his dark eyes. “I’m sorry, Ash. I just need a bit of time. It’s not just you, it’s . . .” He holds his arms out as if to encompass the whole house in them. “It’s all of it,” he says. “I’m sorry. I just can’t do it.” Then he opens the door.

“Dad, you can’t leave.” I follow him out onto the drive. “Not like this.” Tears are burning in the corners of my eyes. “I’ve coped with a lot from you and Mum over the last year. I didn’t exactly like what happened. But you’re my dad, aren’t you? I didn’t disown you when you left me.”

“I didn’t leave
you,
Ash.”

I brush my sleeve across my eyes. “I didn’t want you and Mum to split up, but it’s what you needed to do.” I look at Elaine. “And maybe it’s for the best. Maybe you’re happier now.”

Dad drops his head. His arms hang limply by his sides.

“But I’m happier now too,” I say. “So if you don’t like it, then OK. But it’s not going to change. And if you don’t want me to be happy, well, tough. You’re not going to stop me, and nor is anyone else.” Then I run down the drive, away from them all. I sit on the wall by the front gate and cry into my hands.

I used to play hopscotch out here with Micky Evans from next door. Looking at the pavement, I can still picture the grid, scratched out with stones. I stare at the invisible squares on the pavement and wonder where all those years went.

Then someone’s sitting next to me.

“Ash, I . . .” Dad’s looking at the road in front of us. “I want you to be happy, of course I do.” He shakes his head. “I just don’t get it,” he says softly. “I don’t understand what we did wrong.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Dad. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s me. And it’s not wrong. Nothing has ever felt so
right
.”

“But, why?” He looks so pained, so hurt. Why does everything always have to be so personal? Why does this have to be about him? “Dad, it’s just me. It’s just what I am, who I am. And it’s who I want to be. Just accept it. Just accept me.”

He looks at me for a long time. “Of course I accept you, love,” he says. “I just don’t understand it. I’m not saying it’s wrong, but I can’t say I like it either.”

“Well, I suppose that’ll have to do for the time being.” I stand up as Elaine appears, her face pale. She looks like those water paints we used to have at school when someone had mixed too much white with the pink. Jayce is behind her.

“What is it?” Dad stands up. “What’s happened?”

“Jason wants to talk to us,” Elaine says flatly.

“What is it?” Dad repeats, looking at Jayce.

Jayce looks at me, and I try to smile encouragingly. I probably look demented. Elaine and Dad sit back down on the wall, holding hands. They look like a couple in a hospital waiting room, waiting for news of their desperately ill son. A pang of anger stabs at my chest.
We’re not bloody dying. We’re just gay. It’s not the end of the world.

“Mum, I want to tell you something too.” Jayce is in front of them, and I get up to stand next to him.

“Look, it’s not easy, this. And I don’t know what you’ll think. We made a kind of agreement, me and Ash.” Dad and Elaine glance at me. Jayce’s face is open and pleading; theirs are shut tight. “We were going to do it together,” Jayce continues. “A joint thing. But now it seems a bit —”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake, child, what is it?” Elaine bursts in, pulling her hand away from Dad and folding her arms.

Jayce takes a deep breath. He looks like a kid playing soldiers, filling his chest with air.
Be a man, son.
Then he lets his breath out again and looks up at the house.

I follow his eyes to my bedroom window. I remember standing on that windowsill with Micky Evans. We took turns to stand on the ledge with nothing on, facing the road. We used to time each other, see how long we could brave it out, flashing our growing bodies at the world. I lasted nearly five minutes once. But the truth that neither of us said out loud was that we wanted to stare at each other’s bodies — see what the other half looked like.

Jayce nods as though he’s made a pact with himself. “It’s not just Ash who had something to tell you today. I have too. It’s Adam. We . . . he, he’s not just my friend, Mum. He’s my . . . he’s my . . .”

Elaine covers her face with her hands.

“We’re lovers. We’re in love.”

Elaine’s shoulders sag.

Dad stands up. “Is this some kind of a joke, son?” he asks, his eyes narrowed. “Because if it is, it’s not funny.”

“It’s not a joke. It’s true,” Jayce replies, his voice rising with the color in his cheeks. “It’s always been true.” He looks back at Elaine. “And if you’re honest with yourself, Mum, you must have known.”

“How must she have known?” Dad asks.

“When did you last see me with a girlfriend, Mum? Why do you think I didn’t want to go away to university? You must have suspected.”

“Of course she didn’t suspect,” Dad says limply. He turns to Elaine. “You didn’t suspect anything, did you?”

“Gordon, can I handle this?” Elaine’s voice bites into the air between them. She looks up at Jayce. “Yes, you’re right. You’re right. Happy now? I
did
suspect. I wondered a few years ago if you might be a . . . homosexual.”

“Mum.”

“It’s the classic story, isn’t it? I was cleaning your room, and I saw a magazine. But I didn’t want to believe it. I suppose I thought it might pass if I didn’t mention it. I didn’t want to encourage you into it by telling you it was wrong.”

“It’s not wrong!” Jayce and I exclaim in unison, but Elaine ignores us. She must have been rehearsing this speech for years.

“We all like to break the rules at times. The first thing we want to do when we see a notice saying
DO NOT ENTER
is get in there, find out what’s so great that someone wants to keep us away from it.” She pauses to look at Jayce, as though she’s just remembered he’s there. “And I didn’t want to do that to you. I didn’t want to make you more likely to be like that . . .” She gets up and stands in front of him. Lifts his chin up with her finger and puts her other hand on his shoulder. “Maybe I should have tried
something
. I don’t know.”

Jayce shakes Elaine’s hand away. “Mum, there’s nothing you could have —”

“But you’re my son, Jason, my only son, and I love you.” She smiles a pinched smile at him. “Nothing will ever change that.”

“Right.”

“Do one thing for me, though.”

“What?” Jayce’s voice is raw.

“Just don’t convince yourself it has to be forever. You could have any girl you wanted, you know, a handsome young man like you.”

“Mum, I don’t want any girl. I want Adam.”

“I know, darling.” Elaine puts her fingers up to his mouth. Then she turns to Dad, who’s now sitting on the wall, staring at the sky. “Come on. Shall we go? Leave the youngsters to have some fun without us clogging up the space.”