‘The sultanas are … really … moist.’
Dad looked from one of us to the other. ‘Our Treena likes girls? And nobody’s saying anything? And just whanging on about fecking cushions and cake?’
‘Bernard,’ said my mother.
‘Perhaps I should give you all a moment,’ said Eddie.
‘No, stay, Eddie.’ Treena glanced at Thom, who was engrossed in the television, and said, ‘Yes, Dad. I like women. Or, at least, I like Eddie.’
‘Treena might be gender fluid,’ said Mum, nervously. ‘Is that the right expression? The young people at night school tell me a lot of them are neither one thing nor the other, these days. There’s a spectrum. Or a speculum. I can never remember which.’
Dad blinked.
Mum swallowed a gulp of tea so audibly that it was almost painful.
‘Well, personally,’ I said, when Treena had stopped patting her on the back, ‘I just think it’s great that anyone would want to go out with Treena. Anyone at all. You know, anyone with eyes and ears and a heart and stuff.’ Treena shot me a look of genuine gratitude.
‘You did always wear jeans a lot. Growing up,’ Mum mused, wiping her mouth. ‘Perhaps I should have made you wear more dresses.’
‘It’s got nothing to do with jeans, Mum. Genes, maybe.’
‘Well, it certainly doesn’t run in our family,’ said Dad. ‘No offence, Edwina.’
‘None taken, Mr Clark.’
‘I’m gay, Dad. I’m gay, and I’m happier than I’ve ever been and it’s really none of anyone else’s business how I choose to be happy, but I’d really like it if you and Mum could be happy for me because I am and, more importantly, I’m hoping that Eddie will be in my and Thom’s lives for a very long time.’ She glanced over at Eddie, who smiled reassuringly.
There was a long silence.
‘You’ve never said anything,’ said Dad, accusingly. ‘You never acted gay.’
‘How’s a gay person supposed to act?’ Treena said.
‘Well. Gay. Like … you never brought home a girl before.’
‘I never brought home anyone before. Apart from Sundeep. That accountant. And you didn’t like him because he didn’t like football.’
‘I like football,’ said Eddie, helpfully.
Dad sat and stared at his plate. Finally he sighed, and rubbed his eyes with both palms. When he stopped, his whole face seemed dazed, like someone woken abruptly from sleep. Mum was watching him intently, anxiety writ large across her face.
‘Eddie. Edwina. I’m sorry if I’m coming across as an old fart. I’m not a homophobic, really, but …’
‘Oh, God,’ said Treena. ‘There’s a but.’
Dad shook his head. ‘But I’ll probably say the wrong thing anyway and cause all sorts of offence because I’m just an aul fella who doesn’t understand all the new lingo and the way things are done – my wife will tell you that. All this being said, even I know that all that matters in the long run is that these two girls of mine are happy. And if you make her happy, Eddie, like Sam makes our Lou happy, then good on you. I’m very glad to know you.’
He stood and reached a hand across the coffee table and after a moment Eddie leant forward and shook it.
‘Right. Now let’s have a bit of that cake.’
Mum gave a little sigh of relief and reached for the knife.
And I did the best I could to smile, then hurriedly left the room.
There is a definite hierarchy to heartbreak. I worked it out. Top of the list is the death of the person you love. There is no situation likely to elicit more shock and outright sympathy: faces will fall, a caring hand reach out to squeeze your shoulder. Oh, God, I’m so sorry. After that it’s probably being left for someone else – the betrayal, the wickedness of the two people concerned bringing forth affirmations of outrage, of solidarity. Oh, that must have been such a shock for you. You could add forced separation, religious obstacles, serious illness. But We drifted apart because we were living on separate continents is, while true, unlikely to prompt more than a nod of acknowledgement, a pragmatic shrug of understanding. Yeah, these things happen.
I saw that reaction, albeit dressed up in maternal concern, in my mother’s response to my news, and then my father’s. Well, that’s an awful shame. But I suppose it’s not a huge surprise, and felt faintly stung in a way I couldn’t express – What do you mean not a huge surprise? I LOVED HIM.
Boxing Day slid by slowly, the hours turgid and sad. I slept fitfully, glad of