I snort-laugh. “I don’t think those two faces would be the same.”
“No, but I got your attention, didn’t I?”
“Yes, yes, you did.”
“Is there a man?” Mum asks.
My parents have known I was gay since I was sixteen. I didn’t believe in keeping secrets from them, mostly because I thought they’d always been open and honest with me. But they weren’t. I push the thought aside. It wasn’t a lie. I was—am—their son. They’ve never seen me as anything else. I haven’t pushed them to explain why they didn’t tell me I was adopted. After talking things through with Haru online a year ago, it didn’t seem important anymore, especially as Dad was sick. Maybe I’ll ask them one day, but for now, it’s enough to know they’ve always loved and wanted me.
“I hooked up with someone at Blayd’s last night,” I reply.
“You deserve better than hook-ups,” Mum says.
We’ve had this conversation before. I get it. They want me to be happy, but they think happiness lies in finding ‘the one’ and settling down. Kids probably factor into that equation too. I’m sure they’d like to be grandparents one day. I’m not against any part of their dream for me, but I haven’t found ‘the one’, and I enjoy sex.
“It must have been some hook-up for you to look all doe-eyed and dreamy,” Dad says.
“I do not.”
“You do,” Mum says.
I roll my eyes. “Can we change the subject?” I’m not going to get into any of the details. I might not keep secrets from them, but they don’t need to know the ins and outs of my sex life.
“Are you going to see him again?”
“Yes. But did you miss the part where I asked to change the subject?”
“No. She’s just ignoring you.”
Mum shoots Dad an ‘I’ll kill you’ glare.
I have to laugh. “How has your week been?”
“Fine,” Mum replies.
“That’s it? That’s all the information I get?”
“She’s more interested in your love life,” Dad says.
“My week has been the same as ever. Work. Picking up after your dad.”
“She wants to retire,” Dad says.
“You should,” I say.
“What would I do with my time?”
“I don’t know. Start a new hobby. You always wanted to learn how to paint in watercolour. I bet you could find a class. Or you could be a lady who lunches.” I put on a posh voice for the last part.
“All great ideas,” Dad says.
“What about you? Thinking of retiring too?” I’d hoped Dad would retire after his health scare, but as soon as the doctor gave him the all-clear, he returned to work.
“No chance. Your mum would kill me if I were under her feet all day.”
“It’s true. He’d drive me mad. He’d always be fussing around, needing to be busy. Your father can’t sit still for more than five minutes before he’s bored.”
“I love you guys. Don’t ever change.”
