When we arrive at the train station, to our surprise and slight discomfort, okay, more than slight, there is Effy.
"I thought mum was picking us up," Tony says.
"She is. She asked me to go shopping with her, after."
"Oh."
There then ensues the world's longest, most agonizing pause, after which, she observes Tony.
"Tanned. Y'look good."
He smiles warmly. He takes my hand, and she looks from it – our joined hands - to me for the first time – just a brief glance, but in it there is, unless it's my nervous imagination, a hint of displeasure.
"I feel amazing," he says. "Can't believe how much your life can change in one weekend."
"Mm," is her flat reply, as she gives me another small, possibly hostile glance, which, as we turn to head off towards the car park, sets off every paranoid alarm bell in my head – oh god, maybe it isn't a change she wants for him. Maybe she hates me, after all. Maybe the idea of our relationship in theory, wasn't so bad, but now that she's seen us together ...
"I'm not impotent, anymore, just so ya know," he offers, making it a million percent worse, "so I won't be needing therapy after all," he adds with a small laugh, while I turn purple and scramble for neutral subjects to interrupt him with. "That's one of the things that changed," he continues. "Also, I've sort of discovered I'm a bottom-"
-I cough violently and drop his hand, cringing in horror as I scan the landscape for any suitable bushes to dive behind, as Tony stops dead in his tracks and begins fishing in his pockets.
"Shit. My phone. Musta left it on the train. Wait here," he says, and sprints back to speak with the conductor.
Wait here ? Stand here by myself, with the girl who, it increasingly seems, intends to throw me in front of the next train ?
She, my potential murderer, then turns to me, and becomes my not-so-potential-murderer.
"Right," she says, eyes narrowing, "so you're not gonna tell Tony I said this. Even though I don't understand this situation, if he's decided after all he's been through that this is what he wants and this is what makes him happy despite the shit that's gonna rain down on his head because of the homo thing, then that's all that matters to me. You're a decent little shit, Maxxie, and I guess I trust you. You're his best mate, and my whole family owes you a huge debt of gratitude, and I believe that you love him, and all that, so for all of those reasons, this thing has my blessing. But I'm telling you right now, and you'd better fucking be listening: if he comes all the way over to your side and you fucking end up hurting him, in any way, there is no question as to what will happen: I will seek you out, and I will kill you;got it ?"
Were I a bigger man, and were she even slightly less intimidating than she is, and were I to have any semblance of doubt at all about her words, I might tell her to fuck off and mind her own goddamn business. As it stands, I stammer out an immediate agreement.
"Um, um ya."
"Good," she says, and puts on a fake smile for Tony who has rushed back, phone in hand, to our side.
Just before we approach the car, Effy, who is leading our way towards it, calls out a single word in a short, sharp tone.
"Hands !"
After which, Tony and I immediately drop ours.
In the car, Mrs Stonem cheerfully asks us about our weekend.
"So how was it? What did you boys get up to ?"
God almighty.
I deliberately don't look at Tony and blurt the first word that comes to mind.
"Dancing."
"Oh, well I'd expect that of you, Maxxie. But you boys must have swum a bit, and done the rides, and lots of other stuff."
"Ya. Lots." I offer, instantly horrified over my choice of words – did that sound suggestive in any way ? "Too much," I then add, in tones as friendly and non-sexual as I can possibly make them, as if that phrase sounded any more innocent.
What's the use, I think. She's not stupid. Can't she sense it ? Can't everyone ? The electricity rocketing back and forth between me and her son ?
"It was an absolutely amazing weekend," Tony blurts. "I'll never forget it."
"Really," she says, with a curious turn in her voice. "Why is that, then ?"
I shoot him a look and shake my head – barely perceptible little shakes no one else can see - not now, for fuck's sake ! You cannot come out to your mother in the car in the first three seconds, and surely not with me right here ! I'd actually like to make it home in one piece.
"Did you meet someone ?" She continues. Damned women's intuition.
"Umm ..." he offers.
Okay, stop right there, my eyes scream, boring into him.
In response to the lack of response, she laughs.
"Never mind. I'll pry it out of you later."
You won't need to, I think.
The car stops in front of my building, which looks strange to my eyes, like I've been away for months. I offer my thanks for the lift and then turn to Tony, next to me in the back seat ... and, silly and romantic as it may sound, suddenly it's wrenching, that we're about to be parted.
Silly and romantic ? Actually … no. Tony and I have been through enormous, life changing things together the last year, things that would have strained most people's friendships, to say the least, let alone sanity. And yet it somehow served only to knit us tighter together. As crazy as he may drive me at times, what it comes down to is, we're like twins, he and I; brothers, soul mates - we share an intense, insoluble bond that I've never felt with anyone … and then what happened ? Brighton happened.
Love, to that time stifled and denied, when finally acknowledged, when finally allowed light, air, and respect, sprang up and claimed us both, marked us in a way that feels meaningful and real, and in it then taking a very definite (and very intense) physical form, cemented the issue for good.
So, sitting here next to the boy who feels like the love of my life, knowing what he is about to face - alone – surely among the most painful and difficult tasks anyone can – that of coming out to one's parents … is yes, wrenching. He may feel, by virtue of knowing me and hearing my stories, that he's prepared for what's about to happen, but in truth is, you can't be. There is no preparing for something like this.
Or maybe I'm just being the melodramatic gayboy. Tony's family is modern and progressive, and Effy, thank god, will be there to back him up, and hopefully, to defend me, which I think of in this moment, not in the interest of saving my own hide, or reputation around town, or whatever, but because the sooner they understand and accept that Tony chose this himself without any inducement or influence from me – which will be difficult, at best, for them, because it removes the existence of the ever-coveted scapegoat and would force them to accept him exactly as he is – the sooner he and I can be together. The alternative is unthinkable.
What scares me is that this is the same family that successfully managed to block all contact attempts made by both his then-best mate, and his girlfriend. It seems entirely plausible, then, that if they perceive me as some sort of threat – a predator at worst, a bad influence at best - that they will try to protect him by 'blocking' me from his life, as well.
But yes, the situation with Sid and Michelle was different. Tony was not in charge of his own life, back then – even his own body, in many ways; he barely had a life at all. These days, he's his own person. Hell, he's almost 18; he does have some rights, and meanwhile, I'm no stranger to this family. I've ably demonstrated what kind of person I am; freely given up an enormous amount of my spare time to care for, prop up, babysit, ferry about, host, feed, cajole, entertain, support, nurse, and generally watch out for Tony, proceeding along the way, as he did, to lose my entire former circle of friends.
And so, if they love him as much as I know they do, then they have to see that potentially interfering in this 'situation', as Effy called it, would not only be senselessly cruel, especially to someone as lonely as he, but also needless, and, most of all, useless. The mere fact that I helped cure him of his impotence – which is going to come out – Tony has proven he has no filter whatever when it comes to public declarations about our sex life - will, I hope, prove a testament to the strength and health of our bond ... but then, okay, wait. Shit … what am I thinking ? Nobody's gonna see it that way, are they ? If they're going to be dicks about the situation, this will not be a positive in their eyes – of course it won't ! All they'll see is unmet physical needs on his part, and lust and wantonness on mine.
Of course this is to say nothing of what my family may think. I will undergo the same sort of grilling, albeit by people predisposed, at least, to love and believe me: What, you were in love with Tony all that time, and you never intended to act on it ? Seriously ? It never once crossed your mind ? How is it that you ended up having sex with him, then ? And how is that any different from sex you've had with other straightboys ? To say nothing of the timing – be honest with yourself – couldn't this be a rebound thing ? You just broke up with Bill.
Sigh.
Okay, and to make matters even worse, here's an angle I hadn't previously thought of: Tony's mum and mine are tight, since they were school girls. They've been over each other's houses a million times – all through Tony and I growing up, and beyond – for babysitting, lunches and dinners, late-into-the-night card games, whispery gossip sessions, crying spells, bawdy laughter, husband bitching, etc., etc. Who is to say these two women won't end up in an enormous spat over 'us'; Tony's mum accusing, my mum defending, after which, the two families never speak to one another again ?
Is it possible that Tony, under all of these super-intense pressures, will be caused to reevaluate the 'situation', and decide that on balance, it's simply not worth it ? Will I, in turn, be caused to curse, to the screaming heavens, the very day I met him ?
With a raw and painful lump in my throat, the heaviest possible heart, and water threatening my eyes, I turn, open the door, and step out and round back as Mrs S pulls the interior boot latch on the car.
The lid pops up and I reach in for my suitcase, and to my surprise, there, next to me, suddenly, stands Tony.
"What are you doing ?" I ask.
"Saying goodbye," he answers, the total wrong thing to say to me at this point, and I burst into a quiet, tear-streamed sob. "Come on, Max," he whispers, holding his hand up to keep the boot lid in the air in order to block the view his mother would have of her son very thoroughly snogging a boy. "I love you," he whispers, holding a hand to my chin a brief second.
"I love you, too. Nothing will change that, Tony; whatever happens."
"I know."
"Call me, or text me, or email me, as soon as you can. Even if it's two in the morning; four in the morning – it doesn't matter - I won't be able to sleep, I won't be able to stand it if I don't hear from you."
"I will. Promise. Don't worry so much."
"Are you nuts ? I can't possibly help it," I say, examining his face: twin, crazy-huge blue pools; pink, curving swollen lips; banks of perfect, perfect, perfect skin. I want to memorize every detail, every pore, as if it will somehow insulate us against the coming tsunami.
"Why do you have to be so beautiful ?"
He laughs.
"I'm not."
"You are, to me."
He goes to step away, but I grab him a split second before, and snog him good. We then jump in place because of the car horn and Effy shouting from inside, "Come ON, for fuck's sake !" He pulls back from me, his face emotional, silently shuts the lid, and without looking back, re-enters the car, which promptly speeds off.
I turn to watch, overtaken with grief, so much so, that I stumble, and almost fall.
Get a hold of yourself, I think, sniffling and wiping my wet eyes. Relax. The sky's still up in the air. It isn't falling down on your arse, is it ?
Fuck off, I say to my mind.
As I begin moving, I spy a boy I sort of know out front of the building, too young to be having a smoke, who it turns out had a perfect view of the farewell scene that just ensued.
"Wasn't that Stonem ?" He asks, incredulous, half laughing, as I pass in front of him.
To lie would be to protect Tony, were everything between he and I to fall apart. It would also, in this moment, I'm convinced, somehow, cosmically, lend credence to the notion that there is anything he needs protecting from. As well as serve as a vote of no-confidence in his family, himself, and maybe, us.
And finally, it would be confirmation that anything this young git just witnessed was the least bit funny.
I stop, straighten up, and turn to him.
"Yes."
I drag myself inside. Mum and dad are on the couch, watching telly, entirely innocent of what is to come.
"Oh, sweetie, you're back," Mum says, smiling. "How was it ?"
I'm stock still, feeling, and apparently looking, like death.
"What is it, Maxxie ?" Dad asks, eying me. "What's wrong ?"
I hesitate a long while, gulping round my rough throat, before speaking.
"The whole world's about to crack in two."
.
Weird, how everything feels weird. I'm right inside the exact footprints of my old life, family car, family home - it should all be familiar, and yet it's like I've aged and grown and been gone a decade.
Even weirder is how oddly crushing it feels to have left Maxxie just now. Why does it hurt so much ? Soon as I shut the door, my gut plummeted – hundred miles an hour – straight into my shoes. Do I rely on him that much, I wonder ? Need him too much, and will it ultimately drive him away ?
My mind races, flashing gooey-romantic feel-good images at me to take away the sting – he and I fucking round in the kitchen making popcorn, preparing to have people over – mutual friends, other couples - for our weekly movie night. There's me, tidying up, sweeping the floor because of the kernels that fell. There's Maxxie, taking down glasses and bowls from the cupboard, and we're laughing over stupid shit - in-jokes, familiar and dog eared; worn, but well worn … until mum's chattering interrupts things.
"So, did you meet someone ?" She asks, as Effy gives me the evil eye over her shoulder. Don't even THINK about it til we get home, wanker, is what the look says, lest mum have a fucking heart attack and drive into the side of a building, or plow into twenty people at a bus stop. (Also, mum's taking me shopping, it adds as a selfish post script, so if you hold off til later to drop the nuclear M-bomb, I'll meanwhile get some free shit.)
Ahh, how trivial things seems, back here in the 'real world'.
"Tony, come on. You're driving me crackers. Did you ?"
"Technically, no," I offer, despite Effy's silent death stare – no, because of it.
"Huh ? What does that mean ?" Mum laughs.
"Not anyone new, I mean," I answer, in response to which Effy turns in her seat and gives me her most strenuous dagger-glare. I can't help it. To me, what has happened qualifies as extraordinarily joyous and good, something to be sing about, to celebrate and applaud, and truthfully, I'm dying to scream it from the rooftops.
"A girl from school ?"
"Fuck's sake, mum, can't you grill Tony about his love life later ?"
"Well I wouldn't have to grill him, if he'd stop being so cryptic. I don't see what the big deal is. It's not like I'd know the girl. And even if I did-"
"-Can you shut up, mum ?" Effy says in frustration.
"Effy, can you fuck off ?" I snap. "Don't tell mum to shut up."
"Fuck off, yourself."
"Alright, stop it," mum says. "Tony will tell me all about his weekend when we get back from shopping."
"How long will that be ?" I ask.
She shrugs.
"Well, we have lots to do, then we're having lunch with my sister, so coupla hours, at least."
"Don't know if I can wait that long," I mutter.
"So, tell me then !" Mum exclaims, as we pull over in front of the house.
"Don't," Effy turns and whispers, as if mum can't hear her, whilst giving me the same nearly-indecipherable head shake that Maxxie did. Jesus Christ, all of these people wanting me to hold off, to shut up about the thing that's bursting inside me.
"Don't what ? !" Mum snaps.
"Mum," I begin, nervously, happily, my insides like a waterfall. "Something happened in Brighton." Deep breath. "Something big."
"Fuck's SAKE," Effy groans, ripping open the car door and jumping out.
Mum smiles, turns in her seat, and looks at me in anticipation.
Suffice to say that what ensues over the next several hours – the rest of the entire day, basically - is like a poorly written, badly prepared high school production in numerous acts or, rather, say, a multi-part black comedy/drama/soap opera/farce, complete with tears, threats, three-way screaming matches, insinuation, accusation, outrage, hurt feelings, slammed doors, and people storming out of rooms and out of the house.
Act 1.
Outside the car, just after I told her, mum won't look at me. I follow her up the stairs, but she won't listen.
"Ridiculous," she says, angrily shaking her head as she sticks the key in the door. "If this is some kind of joke, Tony, it's not funny."
"It's not a joke !" I say, following her into the house. "And it's not ridiculous !"
"What's not ridiculous ?" Dad asks, as he enters the room.
There is a momentary beat, after which Effy says, all nonchalant:
"Tony's in love with Maxxie."
"We didn't mean for it to happen !" I say, hurt and confused and angry – all of the things Maxxie said I would feel, but I didn't believe him. "It's not like we planned it ! It's been going on for-"
"-'We'", mum says, "what is this 'we' business ?"
"Maxxie and I are in love, mum, that's what I'm trying to tell you !"
"No," she snaps, "that is not what you said. You said you were in love with – you are under the impression right now for some insane reason- that you're somehow in love with-"
"-I AM in love with him !-"
"-You did not say that HE was in love with you ! So THAT's what this is about ! Maxxie has a crush, like he does on half the boys in town, and now he has you confused-"
"-NO !" I scream. "You're NOT listening to me !"
"I am not going to be yelled at in my own kitchen !"
"Yes, you ARE !" I yell, red-faced. "Until you HEAR me !"
"Tony," dad snaps. "Stop it !"
"No, I won't fucking stop it, dad ! This is something you guys need to understand, and are gonna have to accept, because it's the truth: Maxxie and I are in love."
"This is absolute rubbish !" Mum says, angry and stricken. "What did you take when you were there ? I want to know ! What did you try that you shouldn't have ?"
"What the fuck are you talking about ! ?" I shriek. "We didn't take anything ! We barely had one drink between us the whole weekend ! Is this really the lengths you're gonna go to-"
"-You shouldn't have gone on the rides, after all," dad pipes in. "How do we know it didn't aggravate the brain bleed ?"
"Fuck's sake, dad, because it DIDN'T ! I'm in love. I'm not sick !"
"You have to be !" mum says. "Do you think I don't know my own son ? I fucking raised you these last 17 years! You're obviously under Maxxie's influence ! And let me tell you, he has an awful fucking lot to answer for if this is the product of one weekend with him! And here we all thought we knew him! I'm gonna ring his goddamned neck next time I see him !"
"No, mum - he didn't DO anything! And it wasn't just one weekend, it-" I attempt to interject, but dad talks right over me. Two minutes into this, and I'm shaking, and exhausted.
"-Tony," he says, speaking sternly, "you're not entirely well – do we need to remind you of that ? You're still recovering. If anything is evidence of that, this is. Maybe we thought you were further along than you were. You probably never should have gone to-"
"-This is insane ! I am not sick !-"
He talks right over me.
"-People with brain injuries can sometimes be easily swayed, or imagine things that aren't there. We'll call the doctor in the morning, and that's all there is to it, but in the meantime, Maxxie is not welcome in this house-"
"-Will you LISTEN for fuck's sake ? This is NOT Maxxie's DOING !" Is the next thing said. Not by me.
By Effy.
Act 2.
Both my parents swing their heads round like they'd forgotten she was there, like they'd forgotten she existed, so transfixed are they by the Great Gay Trauma.
"You seriously think he's capable of … what ? Raping Tony ? Goody-goody squeaky clean Maxxie ? He's the decent-est fucking person any of us knows !"
"Or thought we knew," dad snarls.
"There is no WAY," Effy argues,"Maxxie could've made this happen if Tony didn't want it to !"
"Well he must have – it's the only explanation !"
"Tony fell in love with somebody-"
"-A boy !"
"Well it wouldn't be the first time in history !" Effy continues, "They've spent so much time together, they're like a single fucking person."
"This is impossible," mum says, throwing her hands up in the air. "And thanks, Effy, for knowing about this and not coming to us."
"What!" Effy snaps. "I wasn't about to out Tony."
Mum winces.
"Oh, Christ. Here come the 'P.C.' terms." She looks at her. "I have news for you, darling. Tony can't be 'outed' because he's straight."
Act 3.
After another couple hours' painful run around, during which none of us is getting the least bit anywhere, I begin to feel nauseous. I'm sweating, certainly. Effy is pacing. Dad is puffed up and pink, and mum is leaning over the sink like she might throw up, the heel of her hand pressed to her forehead, signifying a pending migraine.
"I can't listen to this rubbish anymore," she says wearily. "You're seeing the doctor tomorrow, Tony, and let's not have another word about it."
"I don't need the fucking doctor !"
Her neck snaps.
"Oh, no? Just a complete, one hundred percent turn around in your personality, over a single weekend, and you don't need a doctor ?"
"Mum ! Please listen to me ! Please believe me ! Why would I lie ? Why would I make it up? I swear to god I'm telling you the truth! This has been going on for months ! It's not sickness ! It's love !"
"So we just have to accept that you're somehow suddenly gay now – all the interest you've had all your entire life in girls is just gone – like that ?" Mum asks, making no effort to reign in the sarcasm. "And Maxxie played no part whatever in this extraordinary turnabout ?"
I look at her, so blow away that she would insist on it, to my face – that my words aren't to be believed, that I'm a brainless, gullible infant to Maxxie's conniving, opportunistic scum … and I feel like I must not know this woman – that I don't want to know her.
He had told me about it, the ugliness it can bring out in the people you love, that you will hurt in ways and in places you didn't know existed ... but I guess I didn't want to believe him.
The voice in my head says to tell her, them, that I'm the one who can't take this anymore. That the whole exchange has disgusted, disappointed and demoralized me, that I'm saddened and ashamed of my family right now, and that I'm leaving - first bus out of town, or I'll sleep in a graveyard, or join the fucking circus.
Instead of saying any of this, however, I answer her question, directly.
Act 4.
"Actually, I have to confess something, mum. Maxxie did play a part in convincing me to turn gay. Do you wanna know how ?"
"No."
"Well too bad, because here it is: He fucking fucked my brains out-"
"-Tony, that's enough !-" Dad bellows, but I shout over him.
"-Yup, SODOMIZED the shit out of me - and I him ! All weekend ! I'm not kidding: we must have done it eighteen times, AND I FUCKING LOVED it ! !-"
Act 5.
In the next instant, I'm pushed forcibly from the house and rapidly down the front stairs, so that I almost fall and break my neck. Not by mum. Not by dad.
By Effy.
On the sidewalk, excoriating me the whole way, with both hands she pushes til we're half way down the block.
"You stupid fucking arsehole ! You seriously think they wanna hear about you bottoming ? ! How does that help your case ? ? Didn't Maxxie tell you what to say and what to NOT fucking say ? ! How could you be such an idiot ! ?"
"Fuck 'em if they can't handle it !" I yell in the direction of the house.
Effy stands back and crosses her arms. I've only ever seen her turn the colour she just turned – bright red – a few precious times. It happens when she's so hopping fucking furious that she might actually kill you.
"Ya, Tony ? 'Fuck mum and dad' ? Did you forget what you fucking put them through the last year, stupid selfish arsehole twat, just cuz you couldn't bring yourself to look both ways before crossing the STREET ?"
"Ya, Ef," I snap sarcastically, "I totally fucking forgot about getting hit by a bus ! Totally slipped my mind !"
"You're such a stupid fucking wanker you probably DID ! You almost killed mum – almost fucking destroyed her from all the endless stress and worry and disruption. Did you forget that she went on depression pills cuz of you ? That she could barely pick herself up off the floor, you fucking wanking fucking prick- ?"
"-What does this have to do with anything ? !" I yell, throwing my hands in the air in exasperation.
She stops and glares at me in disbelief, like I'm the most stupendously brainless creature she's ever encountered.
"Why do I know this and you don't know this ? As the best friend, as the boyfriend of the fucking gayest poof in Bristol, why do you not understand Coming Out 101 ?"
I squint. I look at her like she's nuts. She shouts.
"In other words, what part of 'you are shoving something sudden and brand fucking new and extremely hugely shocking and scary in their faces' do you not understand ? ?"
I go to interrupt but she cuts me off.
"-Number one. Number two, you can't demand immediate acceptance, fucking twat ! I know you're dying to tell the whole world and you probably won't fucking shut up about it for months, but mum and dad – and me - have been through fucking hell this year because of you, and you've only just in the last few months stabilized, and that means their lives – and my life – have only just stabilized, too – finally ! So to not only drop a bomb like this, but to do it in the worst, stupidest fucking way – they just barely fucking heard about it for the very first time ! Hello ? They're allowed to feel shocked and blindsided ! They're allowed to fucking be upset and to fight you on it, because as far as they're concerned, this is not their son. You know why, stupid fuck ? Because for the seventeen and a half years preceding Friday, far as they and everybody else was concerned, you were straight. On Monday, suddenly you're a fucking poof. You get me ? !"
I stand back, shaking, absorbing it all, and hating her for being spot-on right. Maxxie's words meanwhile come flooding back:
To a parent, a kid coming out is like a funeral – the death of someone they love. And what is our first reaction, always, to death ? Denial.
I take a big, deep breath. I sit down on the curb. A moment later she joins me.
Why does it have to be so hard ? I think. I'm in love. This is a good thing. Why can no one see that ?
"So what do I do, Ef ?"
She sighs in exasperation.
"Talk to them. Don't fucking preach. Don't demand. Don't fucking mention taking it up the arse ! ! Didn't Maxxie coach you at all ?"
"Ya. I guess. But I didn't really listen."
"Great," she says. "Great way to start a relationship, fuckwad."
"Fuck off."
I pick up a pebble, and throw it far as I can.
I think.
"I know he said they'll need time – that they're not gonna accept it overnight; to give them like, a few months, or whatever. He also said they might never accept it."
We look off, pondering the pavement beneath our feet. The prospect of them not potentially accepting this - the everyday reality of what that would mean - the rift that it would cause in the family, in both families, and in my life, let alone what it would mean for Maxxie and I -is genuinely unnerving and terrifying.
Christ. I want so badly to run away from this. To grab Maxxie by the hand, and never look back.
Romantic slop, yes. As if either of us could survive a day, homeless and penniless.
I reach for a bigger pebble this time, and throw it further, so that it pings against the street lamp.
"They'll come round, Tone."
I swing my head to the side.
"Doesn't feel like it right now, Ef."
She looks at me.
"Okay, I know you're all annoyingly love-struck and shit, but take your head out of your arse for a second. Think practical. Not accepting this is sort of impossible. Mum and dad aren't the 'tough-love' types; they're not religious and they're not about to make their brain damaged son homeless, yknow ?"
I look off, processing this, seeing the sense in it, but still feeling unsure.
She half smiles. "Which sucks, cuz I've always wanted your room. Twice as big as mine."
I smile.
"And," she continues, "it's not like they can not talk to you for the rest of your life." She picks up a pebble and throws it, herself. "They've always been soft on you; too bloody fucking soft." She looks at me. "Fact. Especially since the accident." She looks off. "First born, y'know ? Which, in most families, the parents are tougher on, to set an example, or whatever, and yet, they've always been tougher on me. Total bullshit."
I laugh.
"It's cuz you're a girl, Ef. They have to guard your good name. To marry you off quick."
"Right," she snorts. "Nobody marries a tart."
I squint.
"Um, you're not quite a tart, Ef."
"No," she says. "But you're a poof."
I laugh out loud.
She stands. She extends her hand to me and I take it, and she pulls me up.
"Stonem clan," she begins, "mum, dad ..." and I finish her thought:
"... tart, poof."
We laugh. We stand there a minute and it strikes me suddenly, how much I love my little sister. Before I can say anything along these lines, however, as we begin our slow way back to the house, she speaks.
"'So like, you and Maxxie. This is one of those super sappy-arse love stories, huh ?"
I laugh. I answer her in mock exaggerated tones.
"'Sick Boy Finds Love."
"With Pretty, Built Blonde'." She adds.
We laugh again. Christ, after the stress of the day, it feels so bloody good.
"Who," she says, "is gonna argue with that ?"
Act 6.
Back at the house, mum is in the loo, crying. Great. And dad's fucking ripped about it.
"Happy with yourself, then ?"
I ignore him and knock on the door.
"'S'me, mum."
"Go away, Tony."
"No. I'm coming in."
I push against the door. She's there, sitting in the corner chair, next to the small pot of fake flowers ... with a red and tear streaked face. Great. I don't feel too shitty.
"Mum," I say softly, crouching down by her. "Listen. I'm sorry. I know this is a shock. I know it's sudden and all that, but-."
"-I just don't understand," she sniffles, dabbing at her eyes, "where is this coming from. I'm – we're – completely baffled. How could we not be ?"
"It just …" I shrug, "it happened. This was months back. He sort of entered my sphere of vision, and … that was kind of it."
She sits up. "This is so hard to hear," she says, as she blows her nose.
"It's not a bad thing, mum, what I'm telling you. I'm in love; that's all."
"With a boy," she snorts.
"Yes," I say, determined to keep this civil. "Hard as that may be to believe." I turn to her. "Mum, gender is … what I guess I've realized is, you don't fall in love with the gender. You fall in love with the person."
My best line, and yet all she does is rub her hands up and down her face.
"I just absolutely cannot believe I'm hearing this. It's like I've woken up on another planet."
"That's why I'm trying to give you some of the back story. To help you understand."
She looks drawn and tired. Older than her 45 years.
"I don't know that I want to hear it."
"Well, if not now, then some time."
"I just want this to go away, Tony. I want you to wake up tomorrow and-"
"-It's not going away, mum. And really, that is such a shitty thing to say-"
She goes to interrupt me, but I cut her off.
"-Because if I'd fallen in love with a girl-"
She nods.
"-Who pretty much only had good qualities-"
"Yes."
"Who the family already knew and liked and trusted-"
She stops.
"Who just happened to be the daughter of your oldest friend ..."
She blinks. She looks off.
"... You'd be ecstatic. Admit it."
She looks at me. She examines my face.
"It's not the same thing, Tony."
"It's not ? How ? Aside from the fact that Maxxie has a penis, explain it to me, please."
"That's exactly the difference. You're not bloody gay."
Christ. The impenetrable ironclad fucking concept that is the G-word.
"Why does it matter so much ? Whether or not it's the first time this has happened, why is it so important that I not be permitted to stray into another territory if I feel drawn to it ? People do that, especially young people; it happens all the time. Why, if it speaks to me, and it works, and it hurts no one, and it's not unhealthy, and it in fact, makes me, for the first time in ages, incredibly happy ?"
She sits in silence. She has no answer.
Here, at last, in what by this time is a day-long battle, is my chance.
"Will you listen to a bit of the back story, mum ? Please ? It will help."
There's a huge long pause. She seems to be thinking about it. I'm holding my breath, waiting for her answer.
Finally, after what feels like forever, she agrees.
Act 7.
I shrug.
"It just happened. I didn't know why. I didn't understand it. All I knew was, it was there. I spent all my time fighting it – a huge amount of wasted energy trying to kill it – to deaden this part of me which was coming alive and awake for the first time, but no matter what I did the fucking thing kept being there until I couldn't pretend anymore. I couldn't keep lying to myself, or to him, or anybody. Maxxie didn't know about it before this weekend– he had no clue."
I touch my hand to my gut.
"It's here, inside me, mum. And I swear to god, it's fucking beautiful. This is not about me being ill; I promise. In fact, you know what ? I'll go so far as to say this is about me being healed."
She exhales and turns away, her face pinched, tears jumping to her eyes.
"I'm sorry, I know this is … difficult, but it's not a bad thing, mum. It's love, and it's made me feel a million feet tall-"
"-I can't accept this," she blurts quietly.
My heart sinks like a stone. I jerk back slightly. I lick my lips.
"You can't accept this ?"
She looks at the floor.
"I just feel right now like …" she clenches her fists. "Like my head is spinning." She looks at me. "I feel really angry at Maxxie, honestly."
"Mum, I promise you, I guarantee you, this was not his doing."
She says nothing for a minute. I can see the wheels turning in her head.
"You said he told you he was in love with you. When did he say that ?"
I sit back. I think.
"It was outside this club. Right after I told him how I felt."
"What made you tell him right then ? Had you been drinking ?"
I look at her, annoyed.
"I told you. I had a total of a half drink the whole weekend, mum. I was not drunk, neither of us were, not even close, nor were we spliffed up – you know I don't do that shit anymore-"
"-Alright, alright. Go on. Finish what you were saying. What made you tell him at that moment ?"
"I … he, he was dancing in the club with a guy; bloke just walked up and asked him to dance, and I was watching them, and I was suddenly totally overcome with this raging jealousy. I felt sick about it – seeing him with somebody else - so I sort of stormed out of the place - and Max followed me outside, and kept asking me what was wrong over and over because I was like, visibly upset, and he absolutely insisted I tell him, and finally, I couldn't fucking hold back anymore. I told him."
"And it was then that he said that he loved you ?"
"Ya," I half smile. "Right away."
"Tony, listen. I'm serious. Do you not think it odd that as soon as you tell him that, that he suddenly decides he's in love with you, too ? It just seems a little too perfect."
God, how it saddens me to have him doubted.
"He's gay," she continues. "Has been all his life. He's always dating boys – I think Bill was the longest relationship he ever had. Meanwhile, there you are on the side, a very good looking, charismatic boy, his best mate, and you two are so, so close. How much of a push would it take for Maxxie to decide you're his latest boycrush ? The flavour of the month ?"
"Mum," I snap, but she continues.
"Believe it or not, I don't mean that disrespectfully, Tony. I want you to look at facts. Maxxie has been with lots of boys, mostly very part time. That means he falls in love a lot, or at least has a lot of crushes and infatuations. So when you told him how you felt, and he said it right back to you, how do you know it wasn't just another-"
-"Look. It's not gonna help things if you keep insisting Maxxie's a liar or a slut, that he's conning me or that he took advantage. Honestly mum, the idea that you would think that about somebody who's absolutely beyond reproach, who's been like a son to you and a brother to Effy – who gave up so much of his life to help us all out when I was recovering, is just … it fucking makes me want to vomit. Not to mention how incredibly insulting it is that you think I could be so easily duped. Please hear me about this: Maxxie didn't turn into a scumbag just because he fell in love with me, okay ? If you take nothing else from this conversation, please take that.
Just as it's been months for me, it's been months for him, too. He didn't decide he loved me, the second I told him how I felt. He was already there. We've both been trying to fight this thing, trying to ignore it and pretend it wasn't there, which was just so fucking stupid. And even when we both finally admitted it, he sort of didn't believe me at first. We had a huge, long discussion about it. Practically a fight. He tried to protect me, in a way. He actually tried to talk me out of it."
"Really ? Jesus. What did he say ?"
I think back.
"He said ... he said he wanted to be sure it wasn't me being woozy from the rides."
It feels like a breakthrough moment, but when she laughs, I'm so tense, I almost jump.
"He said," I continue, "he was my caregiver and he therefore had this huge responsibility to watch out for me, and make sure I didn't make mistakes. And I told him the whole back story, and he told me his, and that was it. There was sorta nothing left to discuss."
We each take a slow, lengthy breath.
"What is his back story ?"
I shrug.
"Same as mine. He began having feelings, but they were hidden completely away, never to be acted upon. He's had things for straightboys before, and that can be dangerous – if they find out – so he'd become expert at hiding it. That's how come I never knew."
"Did he know about you, before you told him ? Did he have any inkling ?"
I shake my head.
"No. He just noticed that I was giddy and antsy around him all of a sudden – Effy noticed that too - and that I hated Bill, which again, Effy totally sensed."
"You hated Bill ?"
I smile wryly.
"Oh my god, I fucking hated his guts. Nothing against him personally, it was just pure jealousy." I look at her. "Did you know that Bill even knew it, and told Maxxie to his face that I was jealous of him ?"
Her mouth drops open. "God, really ?"
"Not only that, but the night they broke up, Bill also told Maxxie that he – Maxxie – was in love with me."
"Fuck !"
"Again, right to his face - that Maxxie didn't love him – couldn't love him, because he was already in love with me."
She looks off.
"Mum," I continue after a beat, "please believe me. The bottom line is that this whole thing is real. To the point where I don't honestly think I could be more in love with Maxxie than I am."
She suddenly covers her face and burst into tears.
I touch her shoulder.
"It's okay," I whisper. "It's alright."
She sobs a while more before speaking.
"I'm just …" she says, wiping her wet face with the back of her hands. "I'm afraid, Tony."
I search her eyes. Much as I don't like doing so when they're tear-filled, I can tell in them right now is something … something ... Possibly the beginnings of … could it be ? Acceptance ?
"Afraid ? Why ?"
She wipes her nose with a tissue. "Of what you'll go through, tosser, if you go down this road."
I shrug. I smile.
"Shit. Been through lots and lots, mum. This I can handle. Totally worth it. I don't care what people think."
"You can't afford not to care, Tony. You can get beat over the head for it, and we can't afford for you to reinjure your brain."
I laugh.
"Not to worry, mum. If it'll make you feel better, I'll wear a helmet."
Act 8.
There's a long, long silence. She looks off, eyes wet again, face a picture of motherly concern. It hits me, that this is the exact same face she wore for much of the last year.
I hate it, the strain I've put her through. Hate it. And now this.
I reach for her hand, which she takes.
We don't say anything. We sit there, for ages, in our tiny downstairs loo, each physically and emotionally withered; each lost in our own weary thoughts, of which mine are: What. a. fucking. day.
I feel cautiously optimistic, though, that I might've possibly gotten through to her, albeit, perhaps only a tiny bit, but still ... as this family's history has shown, if one can get through to mum, dad is usually right around the corner.
Act 9.
She squeezes my hand and looks at me with concern.
"What, mum ?"
She hesitates. She looks down at our hands.
"You two have been sexual ?"
God.
"Um, ya."
"So I guess you're not ..."
"Impotent, anymore. No."
"You're being safe though, right ?"
God. Wow. Mum never talks to me about sex.
"Of course mum. You don't have to worry about that."
"You have to use condoms, every time."
My face flushes.
"Come on, mum. We know. Maxxie's totally up on that shit."
She leans forward and holds me.
"This is so hard."
"I know."
"I just need time."
"Okay," I say, emotions right on the edge.
"I mean, I can't guarantee anything, but I'll try and understand, I'll try and see it from your perspective, and, y'know, I mean, again, there's no guarantees, I don't know how I feel about this yet. I don't know how I'll feel tomorrow, but … I love you so much, Tony." She sniffles, as do I. "You're my beautiful boy, and you're growing up, and so … hopefully, with time ..."
I wrap her in a huge, fierce hug.
Hours later – well after midnite – whole family's been at this all bloody day, I fall down in my bed, absolutely aching, weak, and beyond exhausted, and reach for my phone.
One, two, three, four, five rings, then an audible scrambling sound like the phone's been dropped, then kicked under a dresser, and then finally a breathless answer.
"Thought you'd never fucking call," he says, sounding panicked.
"Well, here I am."
"Tell me, for fuck's sake."
A/N: Well this was a surprise - 9283 words (excluding this author's note) - my longest chapter yet. Writing Tony's coming out scene proved a bit of a slog to say the least - there wasn't a whole lot of fun in this - and I have no idea if I completely fucked it up, or what. I initially intended for it to be more of what I pictured as a standard or even stereotypical coming out scene (if there is such a thing), ie the parents outraged and stonewalling and being nasty about it- the Bad Guys; the child being hurt and angry and upset - the Innocent Victim. Somewhere midway, however, I began to realize what these people had been through with their son already, and what an extraordinary shock Tony's new sexuality would be to them, and that their desperation for it not to be true (for a variety of reasons) was understandable, and human. Not right, but for the time being at least, human.
One thing I think I failed at is time - I really wanted the reader to get the sense that an entire day had passed - that the discussion/argument/fight/gut spilling/bloodletting had gone on (off and on but mostly on) for maybe 10 or 12 hours. Harder to convey than it sounds.
If there are any readers that care to share, I would love to hear your coming out stories, or those of someone you know. Did I totally fuck this up? I know that it often goes much, much worse than what I've portrayed here, with people sometimes kicking their own kids out of the house, with kids being forced back into the closet in order to protect themselves, or forced into 'therapy', etc., but I didn't see Tony's family as being the type. Not to say they won't have their struggles with this - they will.
Meanwhile I will begin work on the next chapter, which I expect will be the last, or second to last. Not sure yet.
Thanks.
PS- For general inspiration, great writing, storytelling, wicked humor, awesome politics, smarts, and guts, I want to thank the amazing Dan "It Gets Better" Savage.