"So Daniel, why've you decided to come see me today?" the therapist asks after going through all the details of confidentiality, what the service is, who he is, and of course his floundered attempts at making me comfortable. I'm not going to be comfortable here. On Sunday night I decided that I can't tell Jamie the details of what happened with my dad. I trust him, that's not the issue, the issue that I have is that if I tell Jamie… he would have to live with that knowledge. It would be there in his brain. All of it. He would know things about my dad, and me, and everything that went on behind my locked bedroom door. He wouldn't treat me the same. So now I'm seated in another locked room with none other than my new therapist, "Call me Jerry!" he'd told me when I walked in. Jerry is a somewhat stout man with a short-ish build and awkwardly broad shoulders that look like they've been mismatched with his petite waist. His hair is a dull salt-and-pepper with completely black tips where it's previously been dyed but he hasn't bothered to maintain, on top of that, it's also spiked up and he looks like he's trying too hard to be "hip" or cool. He has a single gold loop earring in his left ear and a deep set of crow's feet by his dull grey-blue eyes. His personality says enthusiastic, but his look says tired and probably in need of a career change.
"It's Dan," I correct him,
"No sweat, Dan it is, then!" he laughs, "What's brought you here today?"
"My step-dad," I say.
"And is there a reason your step-dad has made an appointment and brought you in today?" he asks,
"Yeah," I respond, but just barely.
"And what's that?"
"I've just had some trouble with some stuff and then some things happened and now here we are," I answer him. I know it's vague and unhelpful, but who the fuck would dive straight into the hard stuff here? No one, that's who.
"So what's been going on?"
"I've been a bit depressed again lately and went back on my medication, and yeah…" I tell him, but stop before I reveal anything too personal. He looks at me for a moment before writing something down, and that's essentially how our entire session proceeds. Him asking me questions and me giving him vague answers.
"How'd you go kiddo?" Jamie asks as I seat myself in the front seat of his car and put my seatbelt on,
"It was better than the place I went to last year," There's no point in being negative about the whole thing when all he's trying to do is help, so I may as well point out the positive aspects of it and at least give him some indication that I'm trying.
"Is it? That's really great," he smiles, "Same time next week?" he asks,
"Yep, appointment is for four O'clock next Tuesday," I remind him, but he knows. He made the appointments for me around both of our schedules. Maybe Jerry and I will get a little further next week.
"I'm very proud of you," he says, looking at me fondly for a moment before averting his eyes back to the road, "I'm so proud of you for accepting help and doing this, and for everything else you've overcome and accomplished,"
"Thanks," I murmur, because if I'm honest, I don't think it's a huge accomplishment. It's just life, isn't it?
"And just because you're seeing a therapist doesn't mean that you can't talk to me if and when you need to, alright? You know I love you and that you are a top priority, right?"
"Yeah, I know. Thank you…" We're turning into our street now and Jamie suddenly looks a little worried,
"I have a feeling I'm gonna be booking an appointment for PJ this week too," he says with a bit of a laugh,
"How come?"
"You know that cat that he's always feeding and trying to convince us to adopt even though it has an owner?" says Jamie, and I nod, "Yeah, well… he died today. Mrs Stone came over to let us know that she found him in her front yard before work, we went over to Mrs Wood's place to tell her that her beloved pet had passed… and she cried."
"As expected," I chime in.
"And now I have to break the news to the poor boy that loved that cat more than his owner did,"
"He's going to cry."
"He's gonna cry," Jamie repeats, pulling into the driveway before the two of us head into the house.
Oscar was a ginger cat, he had short fur, four legs and a tail, just like most cats. He had big, wide, hazel-green eyes and pension for cans of tuna. When we first moved here, he was an adolescent kitty, you know, going through phases of rebelling against his parents and not doing his homework. I assume it's quite a similar process for cats as it is for humans. Or maybe not. Anyway, PJ and I were about twelve and our new family had pretty much just come together to live with each other for the first time, and it was scary, yet exciting. Mum and I's previous house was far too small, after dad left we had to move there because we only living off of one income, and Jamie and PJ's house wasn't small, but it only had two bedrooms and a small study. Jamie said it wouldn't be fair for me to have to live in the smallest room in the house, so he and mum decided that moving somewhere else entirely was the best option and that it would be a great start for our new family. They were right.
When we first moved in, five and a half year ago, PJ discovered Oscar. He was sitting on the grass in our new front yard, sketching the big tree across the road, when he was joined by an orange-blond, four legged, friendly cat. PJ started feeding him, petting him, doting over him, and soon Oscar was a regular visitor. I was a bit jealous of their relationship at times. It's a weird thought, my position of best friend being made redundant because I'd essentially been replaced with a cat, it's a little funny. I guess Oscar was a good listener though, and there are some things that you just can't tell other people because they'd judge you or tell their friends, or make you feel stupid for thinking or feeling the things that you do. I can understand how Oscar helped PJ, I'd be lying if I said that I hadn't sat down to have a chat with Oscar in the past, but that's something that I'd never say out loud.
Despite everything, now Oscar is gone and PJ is wrapped up in a blanket on his bed in tears. That cat really meant a lot to him. It's not like he's just lost some cat, or some pet, he's lost a very close friend that he loved wholeheartedly. It breaks my heart to see him like this.
"There isn't even going to be a funeral!" PJ heaves, "Why doesn't she want to give him a funeral?!"
"I don't know, Peej," I say, rubbing his back, "But it'll be okay… Oscar got you to the point where you could cope with things without him all the time, remember? He taught you how to get through things, and maybe that's what he was here for, yeah?"
"Like he was here to help me and now he's done?" He sobs, holding the blanket tight in his fist for comfort.
"Yeah, because maybe he knows that you're strong enough now to get through this and everything else, and maybe this is his way of telling you that? Maybe it was time for him to move on and help someone somewhere else because you're almost an adult now and don't need him the way someone else might?" I suggest. I really hope that this helps, if it doesn't he'll probably just think I'm stupid and feel worse.
"Yeah…" he cries and wipes his wet cheeks with his sleeve, "He was a really good soul, Dan…"
"I know," I tell him, "He was a really special cat,"
"I want him to come back…" he breathes, and the tears start again. This time I don't say anything, he just needs to cry.
"How's Peej doing?" mum asks as I walk into the kitchen where she's sitting and writing a list of something while Jamie cooks dinner,
"He'll be okay," I assure them, "He's just really upset, but he'll get through it."
"Does this mean we need to buy him a new cat?" mum asks,
"I don't think that would be much help, you can't replace Oscar,"
"Yeah, you're right. Do you think he'll feel better by Friday?" mum asks, and Jamie turns around and looks at her for a moment, because this seems like the beginning of one of her strange series' of questions, or comments that she's been delivering lately.
"Why?" I ask, exchanging a glance with Jamie before turning back to her,
"I want us all to sit and talk on Friday after school and work and everything," she replies, and it doesn't sound too strange. I guess that's a normal mum thing to want, right?
"Yeah, okay. We'll all sit and talk at dinner on Friday, I'll cook something that will force us all to stay at the table a little longer than normal," Jamie says with a slight chuckle, and mum looks up and him fondly before thanking him.
"I'll go let PJ know then," I interrupt before removing myself from the kitchen.
Phil and I are sitting at my regular lunch table and it's nice. It's peaceful. A simple, yet highly coveted feeling. Chris and PJ haven't come from class yet, I think they had French or something, lord knows why they take it, neither of them cam speak it and they're both failing since they can't be bothered studying for it anyway. I think they took it because they didn't want calculus, but I don't know. Phil's hand suddenly finds my own and he's looking at me with his sweet, loving eyes, he gives my hand a squeeze and I shuffle over toward him a little more, looking around before quickly kissing him on the cheek. Other than PJ, Jamie and obviously myself and Phil, no one knows about us. There's a loud vibration on the table and Phil and I both jump, laughing a little at our reactions as I pick up my phone and read the incoming text from PJ,
"Chris and I are around the corner, don't be making out when we get there, I THINK that might give you away."
I laugh and show Phil, whom also laughs and reluctantly drops hand, but I don't slide away from him, I still want to be close to him.
"I hate Fridays," Chris declares, dropping his folder onto the picnic table and sitting down across from Phil.
"Yeah, Fridays are so difficult, you know, with the promise of the weekend an all, they're just horrific!" I reply, and PJ seats himself across from me, next to Chris, and joins the conversation,
"I'm a little worried about dinner tonight," Peej tells me, "Like, your mum's been acting really weird and I think something might be wrong…"
"How has she been acting weird?" Phil asks us both,
"Asking strange questions or saying weird things at indiscriminate times about random things," I tell the table,
"And she's been acting weird too, I can't describe it, but it's weird," PJ expands on what I'd already said, "Dad has no idea what's up with her either, so I don't know…"
"I hope she's alright…" Chris says, and he sounds really genuine. Honestly, I've been worried about mum over the past few weeks as well, I don't know what it is, but there's just something different with her.
"New topic!" PJ shouts out, and we laugh a little,
"Uh…" Chris struggles aloud, searching for a new topic, "I have no clue,"
"I think Dan had something that he wanted to talk about, right Dan?" PJ looks at me expectantly, waiting for me to say something. PJ and I discussed this last night, and by 'this' I mean telling Chris about Phil and I. Phil had also encouraged me, but reinforced the idea that I didn't have to if I didn't want to. The thing is, I didn't want to tell that that I think Chris is a homophobe. What if he's not and I interpreted it wrong? What if I'm completely wrong and I'm essentially committing defamation against him to his friends? I'm legitimately scared. I am legitimately scared that he will hate me, target me… hurt me.
"Yeah?" Chris asks, joining the others in looking at me,
"Um, yes. I needed to tell you something," I say, directing the majority of my attention to Chris, "I'm dating someone."
"Seriously?!" He asks, clearly happy for me, "Who is it?"
"It's… It's Phil. He's my- my boyfriend…" I say, scooting even closer to Phil and leaning into his open form slightly.
Chris has just stopped. I think he's processing what I've just told him, but I can't be sure. Maybe I shouldn't have told him. Maybe this was a bad idea. What if he hates me?
"I didn't even know that you were gay," he says.
"Neither did he," Phil laughs, attempting, and failing, to lighten the mood, "Well, sort of."
"How long have you known?" Chris turns to PJ now, he doesn't look happy,
"Since Saturday. I came home from your place and when I opened Dan's bedroom door, they were all tangled up in bed together," he raises his eyebrow with a laugh and Chris just stares at Phil and I with wide eyes before standing up,
"You're disgusting. Both of you. I tried to give you a chance, Lester, but now you're… I don't even want to think about what you're doing with my friends – it's sick. You're sick," he spits and takes off from the picnic table angrily.
I wish I wasn't, but I am. I'm crying. PJ leans forward across the table and touches my hand lightly for support. Phil doesn't look as crushed. He's used to it, he told me so, and he wasn't friends with Chris like I was. He tried, sure, but really, it wasn't a friendship, more of an acquaintanceship. Phil places his arm around my shoulders and sighs,
"I'm sorry, jellybean," he says, and I nuzzle into his chest a little as he brings his other arm around to hug me,
"I knew this would happen…" I breathe, and I feel him shake his head,
"It's just something that happens sometimes, and it's not your fault. Some people just don't get it, they don't like what they don't understand, and that's their loss, alright? They're missing out on all the great people that they could be friends with, or have a family connection with, and they're the ones cutting the ties. Everyone's entitled to their thoughts and opinions," Phil says, "All we can do is remember that it's not us that they have a problem with, and that it's not up to us to try and change their minds. We just keep living and respect them and their choices, preparing ourselves and deciding what route to take if they realise who and what they're losing because of their judgements and hurtful attitudes toward who we are."
I think that Phil is right, he's always right about these kinds of things. I guess this also means that Chris and I aren't friends anymore, the fact that I'm in a relationship with another guy is enough to put five years of friendship to waste. I don't get it! How the fuck does it even affect him? It's just so fucking stupid, and- you know, forget it. It doesn't matter. I don't need him… I have PJ, and PJ is supportive of me. Jamie is supportive, and I'm sure mum will be too, and when PJ and I mentioned my relationship with Phil to our other friend, Jessica, she was all excited and swore that she wouldn't have seen it coming in a million years. I don't need Chris. I have Phil, my friends, and my family. I just have to wait and see if Chris changes his mind and be ready to accept an apology if one comes my way…
The classroom clock strikes the end of the school day, the bell ringing approximately twenty seconds later, and the class shuffles out excitedly, each pupil ready to start the weekend and forget about the tortures of classes for a couple of short days. Phil walks me out the door, through the school and down the block, away from everyone else.
"Aw, babe," Phil coos, "You're just so pretty, how do you expect me to let you leave?"
"Oh my god, Phil," I laugh and he tugs on my hand again to show me how much he wants me to stay, "I need to go home at some point,"
"Come home with me, then? I'll make sure you're home by dinner," he pleads, "Please?"
"Hmm… I guess I could come over and let you tell me how handsome I am…" I giggle.
"You are very handsome," he comments, "You're an exceptionally pretty young man,"
"Why do you keep calling me pretty? I feel like you're going to put me in some red lipstick and blue eyeshadow or something," I laugh.
"I'm calling you pretty because you're very attractive, and the way your eyelashes sit on the top of your cheeks when you close your eyes is very, very pretty," he declares a-matter-of-factly. I shake my head and he walks me back to his house, the second we walk through the front door he kisses me on the cheek and apologises for the mess, not that I was expecting it to be tidy anyway. After lots of kissing and lots of playful conversation, he walks me home and just as I'm about to part ways with him and go inside, he pulls me close and kisses my cheek before hoarsely whispering in my ear and trailing his hand down my back to my bum, squeezing it gently,
"You do something to me, Daniel." There are goose-bumps all over my body.
The house is warm and well-lit, I can hear PJ and mum in the dining room, probably setting the table, and the unmistakable smell of roast beef and vegetables coming from the kitchen. I follow the light chatter and scent of the food and I'm greeted with a smile from mum and a "How're going, mate?" from Jamie.
"I'm alright," I smile,
"Ready for dinner, love?" mum asks, setting the tray of veggies on the table beside the meat. I nod and take a seat, joining her and PJ at the dining table before Jamie comes and sits with us, chatting absentmindedly about the food. We're about fifteen minutes into dinner when Jamie speaks up,
"Honey, what was it that you wanted us to talk about?" he asks mum, and she smiles,
"Oh, right! I almost forgot," she laughs, "I think we all need to play a fun family game! We all go around the table and tell everyone something important that the rest of the family might not necessarily know!"
Alright, this is weird. Either she knows that I'm hiding my sexuality and/or relationship with Phil from her, or this is just another example of her recently strange behaviours. PJ and Jamie are just as confused as I am, both sharing the same look as what I'm probably showing, but Jamie, always the supporting husband, contorts his face into a smile and says, "Alright! I'll go first then. Last week I found out that I'm in line for a promotion at work!" he says, and mum begins gushing over the news before setting her sights on PJ and I, and we just sort of look at each other for a moment. Still just looking at each other. And then PJ speaks up.
"I went to Mrs Wood's house on Wednesday to ask for photos of Oscar. I put them up between the family photos on the mantle in the living room…" he confesses, looking sad and guilty, but then laughing with a bit of a smile.
"Aw, sweetie…" mum says, "That's okay, we can keep him up there. You're turn, Daniel!"
My turn. Alright. Here I go. I can do this.
"I…" my eyes dart around the room as I pause my attempt to start my sentence. PJ nods encouragingly, Jamie smiles, and mum looks on, waiting for me to speak. "I, um… I- I have a boyfriend?" I tell them, but it sounds more like a question than anything.
"You… what?" mum asks, staring at me with wide eyes, "A boyfriend? Honey, are you..?"
"I'm gay…" I say, quickly swallowing some water from the glass in front of me.
"And you have a boyfriend?" she asks,
"And I have a boyfriend," I confirm.
"What's his name, sweetheart?" she asks, sounding loving and caring like normal, as if the initial shock of it has worn off,
"His name's Phil!" PJ chimes in with a grin, and Jamie shoots him a look to tell him to shut up.
"Phil?" she turns to me, "The nice boy I met last week?"
"Yeah…" I breathe, "Him."
"Jamie, why aren't you saying anything?" she asks, turning to her husband,
"I've already spoken to Dan about it," Jamie tells her, "And I'm really proud of him for coming out to all of us," he smiles. Mum turns back to me and smiles as well,
"Are you happy? Is he good to you? Does he respect you properly? He's not pressuring you or anything, is he?!" she asks quickly, eyes darting around my face.
"No, mum," I laugh, "Everything is all good. I'm happy and he's nice, can we move on, please?"
"Okay, okay. My turn then, isn't it?" she beams, and we all nod, still skeptic about this 'game'.
"What is it, love?" Jamie asks her and she takes a deep breath, pausing for effect.
"I'm pregnant!" she exclaims with a huge grin on her face. She's pregnant! That means there's going to be a baby. A baby!
Jamie's immediately up and by her side, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her cheek over and over. They look so happy and excited, and don't get me wrong, I'm happy too, and this explains so much of mum's weird behaviour, I'm just shocked. PJ's laughing a bit, he predicted this and he's not afraid to say he told us so. The second Jamie moves away to clear the table, I stand up and hug mum as tight as I can and she hugs back even tighter,
"I'm so happy for you, sweetie," she tell me,
"I'm happy for you too," I laugh, and she shakes her head,
"This isn't just about me, it's about all of us," she smiles,
"I'm not gonna be the baby anymore," I remind her, and she gasps.
"You're always going to be my baby!" she exclaims, "Always, always, and always!"