Danny had often imagined telling his parents this story, but he had never imagined the pain it would cause them. Shocked at the implication, his dad said, ‘We never laid a hand on you.’
Upset, his father stepped into the rains, pulling up hiswaterproof hood and setting off towards Bude. Danny leaned against the stone walls, unsure if his mum was about to leave and only the heavy rains were holding them together. But rather than leaving Danny alone in the storm shelter his mother joined his side.
‘We’re never going to get back the time we lost. No matter how many sad stories we tell each other.’
The pair of them listened to the rain for a time before she asked, ‘What happened with that man?’
Danny shook his head. He had lost a sense of what he was trying to achieve.
‘It doesn’t matter. I came here to invite you to a wedding. I don’t know why I’m talking about him.’
His mother suggested, ‘Because they’re connected.’
She was right. They were connected, as though the first encounter had been a curse, and the wedding was the spell to lift it. Danny returned to the end of story.
‘After he kicked me out, I walked my bike back home. I couldn’t cycle because of the pain. I remember watching the sunset and hating it. I hated everything I saw. Our house. The sea. The cliffs. This town. At home, I took a shower. Cleaned myself up, threw my underwear away, hid them at the bottom of the bin. I swallowed twenty aspirin and went to bed.’
Danny stretched his hand out into the rain, feeling the drops on his skin.
‘Twenty was enough to feel like I was doing something dangerous. But not enough to be dangerous. In the morning, I didn’t eat breakfast. I didn’t eat for days because I was scared that I was torn inside. And I wasn’t, not like that, but in another way I was. I wanted to say something. I was desperate to say something. I needed you to tell me that my future was not going to be men like that or sex like that.’
His mother contemplated this.
‘I could never have told you that. You were always going to have to find it out for yourself.’
Danny nodded.
‘That’s why I’m here. That’s what I wanted to tell you. That I found my answers. That I’m no longer torn inside. And I don’t want to be angry anymore.’
Arriving back at his parents’ house Danny found his dad waiting for him at the kitchen table with a photo album open. He gestured for Danny to take a seat.
‘We made a lot of mistakes. But it was never about shame. We were afraid for you.’
Danny couldn’t count the number of his gay friends who had heard similar sentiments from their parents. It was never disgust, they would claim. It was concern for their children’s health or their careers, a fear that they would spend their lives alone. Much of the world will hate you, they would warn, some people openly, most privately, if they botheredto think about you at all. And how could any parent be happy about their child being hated when they only wanted the best for them. But the conversation took a different turn when Danny’s father said, ‘We should have told you the truth about your grandfather. I was scared that what happened to him might happen to you.’
Danny had no idea what his father was referring to.
‘What are you talking about? He died in a traffic accident before I was born.’
His father’s voice became quiet.
‘No one believes your grandfather’s death was an accident. No one who knew him well. He died on a dangerous stretch of road, but he’d been cycling his whole life. He knew these roads better than anyone. And the driver maintained that my father swerved into the impact.’
His dad allowed that fact to sit before adding, ‘The insurance company investigated. There was no suicide note. Everyone in town claimed he was happy. He was popular. He was loved. They paid out, which is how your mother and I managed to start our business. But there were always doubts.’
Sensing the direction the story was heading in, Danny asked, ‘What kind of doubts?’
His dad nodded.
‘After his funeral I cleaned out his study. My father loved to travel, which was not common back then. He kept travelguides from different cities. I found them, hidden behind his other books. They were called Bob Damron’s Address Book. Have you heard of them?’
Danny shook his head.
‘They were the first guidebooks published for gay men. And my father owned a few including for San Francisco, Los Angeles and New York.’
Danny asked, ‘He was gay?’
His dad shook his head, but then changed his mind and shrugged.
