“In them days, men didn’t have breakdowns,” Dad goes on. “Or posh, clever men might have done—not men like me. If they did, they didn’t talk about it. So I were ashamed and didn’t want anyone to know.”
“Oh, Dad,” is all I manage to say.
“Obviously, I were grievin’,” Dad continues. “And whatever ’appened, I did love your mum. But I were also gutted she’d cheated on me. And I thought it were my fault.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, I could have paid her more attention, told her she looked nice and that, taken her out, told her I loved her.” He lets out a shaky sigh. “If I had, maybe she wouldn’t have started messin’ about with that other bloke. Maybe she wouldn’t have walked into that car. Maybe you wouldn’t have lost your mum.”
I’m flabbergasted. I had no idea he was thinking all this. All I manage to say is, “Dad, don’t think like that.”
He leans forward and clasps his hands. “I don’t anymore. But I did at t’ time.”
“And how did you get over it?”
“Your Auntie Julie marched me down to see t’ doctor. She wanted me to see some counselor an’ all, but I couldn’t be doing with that.”
I rub my collarbone. “And what did the doctor do?”
“He put me on antidepressants and said I should get someoneto look after you for a while. That’s when you went and lived with her. By the time I were back on my feet, you didn’t want to come back wi’ me.”
I’m still reeling. “What, so it wasn’t because I was gay?”
I realize that’s the first time I’ve actually told Dad I’m gay. I realize I’ve just come out to him.
He looks confused. “You what? Why would it be because of that?”
“I don’t know. I just thought you were disappointed, with the way I turned out.”
After so long, I can’t believe we’re having this conversation—and both of us speaking so openly, much more openly than we’ve ever spoken to each other before. In a way, it’s like I’ve detached from it and am watching two actors play our roles. At the same time, I’m so engaged I can feel every muscle in my body clenched, every nerve on edge.
“I thought you wanted to start again with Trevor and Keith,” I go on. “I thought you liked them more than me.”
Dad shakes his head. “Give over, lad! I’ll admit I knew what to do wi’ them but that’s not t’ same thing. I didn’t know owt about gays. I hadn’t met any till you. You have to remember I grew up in t’ fifties, on a council estate in Wigan.”
I feel a pique of annoyance. “Dad, I’m sure there were gays on council estates in Wigan.”
“Well, not any who admitted it. It were another world back then.”
I stiffen in expectation of the question I need to ask next. “You did know I was gay, then?”
Dad runs his hand along his jaw. “Your mum said she thought you might be, but I didn’t really know what it meant. I just thought it meant you’d be lonely and hang around public toilets and get beaten up and die of AIDS. And I wanted to stop that ’appening to you. So I tried to get you interested in football. I tried to steer you towards things normal boys liked.”
He spots me flinch at the wordnormal.
“Sorry, lad. Even now I don’t know t’ right words.”
I slide my hands under my thighs. “But you can’t change someone,Dad. You can’tmakesomeone fancy girls, just like no one could have made you fancy boys.”
He scratches his cheek. “Yeah, well, obviously I know that now. But I didn’t at t’ time. Nobody talked about that kind of thing in them days. The only thing you heard about gays were horrible things you read in t’ paper. It’s not like now, when you can go online and find out about anything you want and there are gays inCorrieandEmmerdale. They even ’ave ’em on quiz shows, you know. Debbie saw a lesbian onThe Chasethe other day. I’n’t that great?”
I smile. “Yeah, it is.”
But I’m realizing how little I know of Dad’s story. And there’s so much overlap between our lives, so many ways in which his life has influenced mine. In a way, his story is my story. If I can’t understand him, I can’t understand myself.
“Anyway, I didn’t know what to do about it,” he goes on. “And I didn’t know how to talk to you. I just felt like I’d failed you as a dad.”
I lower my eyes to the floor. “I felt like I’d failed you as a son.”
