It didn’t take a genius to figure out what they really meant — that I was being reckless.
Part of me got a perverse kick out of surprising them.Knowing full well they’d never take a leap of faith into the unknown.
Normally, I wouldn’t either.
But ever since losing Dad, I’d been questioning why I was holding off from following my dream.Life was too short to keep waiting.Too short to keep hiding.
I didn’t want to be lying on my deathbed regretting that I’d never even tried.
That didn’t mean I wasn’t shitting bricks at the prospect of becoming a starving author.
Did Hew ask me to reconsider?Yes.
Did he try hard to convince me to stay?No.No, he did not.
Did I have any doubts about revealing that he was running his private consultancy projects while shoving his workload onto other members of the team?
Hmm, let me think.
Actually, no.I didn’t want to think anymore.
I’d done far too much of that recently, and I was tired of it.
I needed a ray of sunshine to drive away the dark skies that were becoming a metaphor for my life.
Ugh, I was becoming melodramatic again.
Maybe I have more in common with Oscar Wilde than just my taste in literature.
Which brings me back to the USB, the dogging, the dildo.
And the gay porn.
Part of me wishes I’d never found any of it.That staying in the dark about Dad’s preferences would’ve been easier.
But for whom?
Did it make my life easier?No.
Had it made Dad’s life easier?No, I don’t think so.
For years, he had been hiding in plain sight.
Did I think he was gay?
The jury was still out.But I was leaning more toward bisexuality.
Not just because it would be easier for me to accept, but because of the memories.Talking with Ev about porn reminded me of a time when Dave and I were teenagers.
Dave had found a DVD hidden under the corner unit in the sitting room.We didn’t need to watch it to know what it was.Its hidden location made that obvious.
Still, we fed the disc into the player, eyes glued to the screen.
It was just me and Dave in the house, but we muted the TV anyway — not wanting anyone to overhear the moaning or the dodgy soundtrack.
Really, if I never hear the words “That’s it, baby, suck that dick” again, it’ll be too soon.
It wasn’t just memorable because of the bad acting, the lack of storyline, or the scary haircuts.
