Dinner that night was fish soup made with pollack and fresh fennel, served in their newly refurbished kitchen with its oak cabinets and German-made appliances, unrecognizable fromthe unmodernized kitchen of Danny’s childhood. His dad opened a bottle of white wine. Danny positioned himself with a view of both of his parents.
‘Mum, Dad – I’m getting married.’
His parents looked at each other. Neither of them had guessed this scenario. His dad asked, ‘To the man you’ve been living with?’
Danny suppressed a sigh.
‘To Luis, yes. Who else?’
His dad shrugged.
‘You might have met someone new.’
Danny shook his head.
‘Luis is the only man I’ve ever loved.’
The comment sounded more rebuke than romantic. They belatedly wished him congratulations. After clinking their glasses, his dad asked, ‘Isn’t it called something else?’
This question – the difference between a civil partnership and marriage – had been asked of Danny numerous times. Trying not to sound peevish he patiently explained, ‘It’s called a civil partnership. We’re not allowed to call it a marriage. But we’re calling it a marriage. You can choose.’
His dad said they would call it a marriage. His mum agreed.
The three of them lapsed into silence. Danny had told them about the wedding but not yet invited them. Out of nowhere, his mum began nervously telling a story.
‘When I was a little girl and feeling blue my mother would suggest that we go see the bride. If there was a local wedding we would watch, even if we didn’t know the couple. We would sit on the back pew, admiring the bride and discussing her dress. And it would always cheer us up.’
Danny had never heard this story before and was about to ask about it when his dad asked, ‘Why didn’t Luis come down with you?’
Danny replied, ‘I wanted to try and fix things between us first. We’re not part of each other’s lives and—’
His dad interrupted, ‘But, Dan, that’s down to you. We’re here. We’re always here. You could have visited us at any time. You could have invited us to London. You cut us out of your life. You wanted nothing more to do with us. And sure, there were some difficult times. We said some stupid things. Everyone says stupid things. We were about to lose the hotel. We had a lot on our minds.’
Danny turned cold.
‘I know you had a lot on your minds. Do you know how I know? Because after I told you I was gay you said – that’s all we need right now. You lumped it together with losing the hotel. You were skint and your son’s a fag. What else could go wrong? And let’s be honest, that’s how you felt.’
His dad admitted it.
‘Yes, that’s how I felt. And I’m sorry. If that’s what you want, an apology, but you could’ve had it years ago. Youdidn’t want it. You didn’t want us. You wanted nothing more to do with us. You turned us into villains when we were nothing of the kind. If anyone is owed an apology, we are.’
Danny pushed his glass of wine away.
‘Maybe I would’ve come down sooner if you had mentioned my relationship in one of your round-robin Christmas cards. You mention everything else. Who moved house, who bought a dog, who went on holiday. Not once did you write – Danny, our son, is living with a guy called Luis. And he’s happy. That’s what I was waiting for. That would’ve been my sign. So don’t tell me I wanted nothing to do with you when you’ve never said a word about me.’
His mother answered, ‘We weren’t sure if it was our business to write about your personal life.’
Danny said, ‘Maybe that’s why I’m getting married so that I can finally get a mention in your Christmas card.’
A familiar kind of sadness filled Danny’s heart. If this was a test, they had, as a family, failed. He left the table, retrieving the green envelope from his bag, handing it to his mum and dad.
‘I came here to invite you to the wedding.’
His mother read it and passed it to his dad who put on his glasses.
‘We would love to come to your wedding.’
Danny asked, unsure of his own question, ‘But will yoube happy for me? For real? When Luis and I kiss? Are you going to wince? Glance at each other? Just saying you’re going to come isn’t enough. “Yes” isn’t enough.’
