“Are you proud of me?” I ask.
They stare at me. They can’t even answer my question, which I guess is all the answer I need.
“You could be doing so much more,” Mum says eventually. “You’re such a bright boy.”
I grit my teeth. Theonlypeople who are allowed to call me ‘boy’ are Gabe and Calvin because Iknowthey mean it affectionately rather than demean me and make me feel small.
“So?” I demand.
“You could have done anything you wanted with your life,” Mum says.
“Iam. I’m doing exactly what I want to, and I’m really good at it. This contract is proof of that. It’s a dream come true. Why can’t you both be happy for me? Why can’t you for once say you’re proud of me or actually mean it when you say ‘well done’?”
They stare at their bowls of half-eaten casserole.
“We worry about you,” Dad says. “We don’t want you to wake up and realise you’ve wasted your life or squandered your chances to be successful.”
“Iamsuccessful.”
“Taking your clothes off,” Dad mutters. “It’s no way to earn a living, Blake. Look at Archie and Corey. They’re both successful. They have stable incomes and job security. You have none of that.”
“I’m not Archie or Corey, and I’m notyoueither.” I stab my fingers against my chest. “I’mme. Why can’t you accept that?”
“We do,” Mum says.
“No, you don’t. You haven’t for years.”
My parents start to shake their heads. I could let them off the hook, but all the anger and hurt that have been bottled up inside need to come out.
“I need you to understand how you’ve been making me feel,” I say. “So please just listen to me.”
Dad clasps Mum’s hand. They stare at me. Not eating. Not talking.
I take a deep breath. “Mum… you haven’t looked at me the same since I asked for knickers.”
“It wasembarrassing,” she says.
“Why?”
She opens and closes her mouth.
“And, Dad… we used to be so close. But then you distanced yourself from me, and I never knew why.”
“I didn’t…”
“You did! Why did you stop wanting to stargaze with me?”
“I… don’t remember.”
“You’ve always been so happy for Archie and Corey and everything they do, but you treat me like I’m a waste of space and a failure.”
“We don’t,” Dad says stiffly. “We’re worried about you. We want you to live your best life.”
“I am! It’s just that my idea of what that looks like isn’t the same as yours. I don’t have the same hopes and dreams as you, but that doesn’t make mine any less valid.”
“We never said that—” Mum starts.
I cut her off. “You implied it over and over again. Not five minutes ago, you couldn’t congratulate me on my modelling contract without suggesting that I’m wasting my life. You couldn’t be happy for me when I told you I was seeing Calvin and Gabe, yet you’re supportive of Archie’s relationship.”
