Page 1 of Note to Self
The door behind me slams with all the force I intended as I storm into my parents’ home. I am beyond angry. The fury that’s simmering under the epidermis makes my skin itch like termites burrowing deep inside me.
I follow the sound of muted voices—my parents—the ones I thought were kind, loving, and accepting. Until thirty minutes ago. The day we buried my brother.
Now, I don’t know them at all.
When I stomp into the kitchen, the talking stops, and my mother glances at me. “We’re having a cup of tea. Do you want one too?” She eyes me with one of her the discussion-is-over kind of looks, then glances at my dad, the tall, lean man who has always been the more reasonable one of my parents, but he stands up straight to his six-foot-one height and refuses to look my way.
“Fuck the tea, Mother. What the hell has got into you? You’ve just watched your wonderful, brave, and loving son be lowered into his grave. Then you turn away from his family.Have you gone crazy? Lost your mind somewhere? I don’t think I know you anymore.”
“Don’t use that language in front of me.” She bristles, deflecting everything I just said. “Peter, can you pass me the cups?”
“You know we never approved of Joshua's lifestyle, but he was our son, and I still loved him.” Finally, my dad decides to join in the conversation.
“You’ve just walked away from his child, your granddaughter. As if she doesn’t exist.” I’m pacing in the small space to keep me from getting close enough to throttle them both. I knew my brother was the golden child, the one who could do no wrong. His only misdemeanour was him being gay. They hated that, but they’d managed to accept it.
“She’s not his daughter. We have no connection to her, so why should we carry on seeing her?”
I look at her aghast, not believing her callous words, but she continues as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. “Peter, we need to work out how much we spent on her. We can get that back from the other one.”
My dad nods. “I can close down her savings account too.”
“We should keep that running. Trent will give us a grandchild when he decides to settle down. Do you have a girlfriend yet?”
I’m speechless, completely dumbfounded. The words poise on the tip of my tongue, but Josh’s warning comes back to me.
“Don’t tell until you’ve found your person, Trent.”
I’m bisexual. It took me a while to figure it out. At school, I tended to like girls, even dated a couple of them. Then one day, in the school gym, I watched one of my classmates slam-dunk a basketball, then whip his shirt off and twirl it around his head ashe raced around the large hall. His body was perfect. Strong with defined abs, and yep, I liked boys too.
“Don’t hold your breath, Mum. I don’t think I’ll have any, not if this is the way you treat them.”
“Your flesh and blood will make all the difference. Joshua wasn’t her father. It’s as simple as that. I don’t want to talk about it anymore. The subject is closed, Trent.”
I turn on my heel and walk out of the house, not even bothering to close the door. I knew that any chances of them calling me were slim. The fact that the only reaction is the click of the door closing proves me right.
“Trent, are you listening to me?”
It’s Sunday, and I’m at my parents’ for my weekly visit home. Although I don’t know why I still do this. It’s purgatory. The conversation always comes back to one thing—when will I settle down and give them grandbabies? It took me a long time to speak to them again, but when my dad had a health scare, a suspected heart issue, I couldn’t ignore them any longer.
I’m doodling on the paper napkin my mother insists we have at the table, hoping to be left out of the conversation. “What? No, what did you say?”
“Stop drawing, Trent. You’re not five.” She huffs the way she always does. “I’m saying that Teresa and John have a daughter about your age. You should ask her out on a date. She’s lovely and works in the city at one of those investment banks. Earns a fortune, I heard. I got her number for you. Here.” She hands me a business card.
I’ve had enough of their passive aggression, the constant trying to hook me up with one of their friends’ daughters. I can’t remember the last time I was with a girl. My last almost relationship with one was when I was about twenty-six. Theyknow nothing about Marc, so there’s no way I would ever introduce him to them.
My mum has hope glowing in her eyes, but today is the last day she’ll play matchmaker. Just like Josh said, I’d know the right time to tell them.
“No thanks, but do they have a son? Now that I could agree to.” I grin at her, feeling freer than I have since my brother died.
She freezes. Her whole body goes rigid as she deciphers my words. Then her eyes widen almost comedically with realisation. “What? What’s that supposed to mean? Is this a joke? Because if it is, I don’t understand it. You’re not like your brother. You’ve had girlfriends. I’ve met them.”
“I’ve had boyfriends too, but I have never introduced them to you. I wouldn’t subject them to your spitefulness and blatant homophobia.” I watch with glee as her face turns puce and she splutters.
“You’re gay.” She finally finds her voice. And it’s not a question; it’s an accusation.
“No, I’m bi. I like both women and men,” I say blandly, not giving a shit. There are a lot of things I don’t care about anymore. It’s time to claim my life back, which means leaving all the negativity my parents pile on me behind.
“No! No! I won’t let you. It was bad enough having one gay son. You can’t do this to me.” She narrows her eyes until the pupils are tiny black spots and glares at me with eagle-like precision. “Peter, say something. I won’t have it.”
