I glanced at Leo. He’d long stopped massaging my foot and instead was sitting very still on the couch, inspecting the hem of his hoodie like he was trying very hard to seem busy and not like he was eavesdropping.
“You have to study hard, okay?” Mum continued. “Lygon University is very good and full of smart students. You have to get good grades to stand out. You don’t want to be unemployed, do you?”
“Okay, okay,” I said. “I’ll study some more.” I was definitely not going to do that.
“Have you eaten?” she asked.
“Yeah, I had pasta.”
“Do you need any money?”
“No, I’m fine,” I said.
“When are you going to visit me and Dad?”
“I don’t know, probably when the semester ends.”
“Okay,” she said. “Goodnight.”
“Bye,” I said and ended the call.
I looked up to see Leo watching me.
“Is everything okay?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Leo said quickly. Then: “Do your parents know you’re gay?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I mean, it’s pretty obvious.”
He nodded slowly.
“What is it?” I asked.
He hesitated. “You speak to your mum in a very…blunt way.”
“Oh,” I said after a moment. “Do I?” Thinking back, I guess my voice had been pretty monotone. “That’s the way I’ve always talked to them. I’ve never really thought about it. But my parents are the same — they just ask their questions and end the call.”
“They don’t say, I don’t know, ‘I love you’ or anything?”
I laughed. “My parents never say ‘I love you.’”
Leo widened his eyes.
“Not because they don’t love me,” I rushed to explain. “They do. I know they do. But they only say it very rarely. I think it’s a Korean or Asian thing.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, there’s a joke that Asian parents will never say sorry. They’ll just cut you fruit. That’s what my mum and dad did. They’d cut up apples or oranges and leave it on my desk in my room, then leave.”
“That’s sweet,” Leo said, then paused. “But I’d find it frustrating not to hear a real apology.” Once again, his eyes widened. “Not that I’m dissing your parents! Just — I — my parents never said sorry.” Then he looked away like he’d blurted the words out without meaning to.
“You’re right. It could be kinda frustrating that my parents don’t actually apologise,” I said, moving past the Leo’s-parents topic. “Especially because I do when I mess up. But they’re just acts of service people rather than talkers. Or huggers. Our family’s not really a hugging family.” I rubbed the side of my jaw. “Maybe that’s why I’m such a whore for affection.”
“I don’t think you’re…” he trailed off, which wasn’t surprising. He wasn’t the type to use the word ‘whore’.
I shrugged. “Well, maybe it’s another reason I want a boyfriend. It’d be nice for one person to smother me in hugs and tell me how much he loves me.” Suddenly, I realised it sounded like I was dropping the most obvious hints.
Also, I didn’t want him to get the wrong idea. I didn’t only want a boyfriend out of a narcissistic craving for attention. I’d be just as affectionate back. But if I said that aloud, it’d sound weird like I was over-explaining.
