Chapter 2

I really went to town over the weekend: I mowed the grass, pulled the weeds, fixed leaky taps and sanded and painted until Sunday afternoon. I was running out of jobs to do when my dad came out.

“Thank you, son,” he said, handing over a larger sum than I expected.

“Wow, thanks!”

“You deserve it. You’ve worked your ass off all weekend and I know why. You’re going to take someone special to the end-of-year prom, aren’t you!”

“Actually no, not as far as I know. I asked Melinda Sturge but she shot me down in flames.”

Dad looked at me pensively. “I guess it’s understandable in the circumstances. Your mother and I got you these anyway. We know you’re a sensible boy but we don’t want you to take any risks with HIV or AIDS.”

Dad handed me a plain brown paper bag. Inside were a couple of packs of condoms.

“What are you talking about? What circumstances?”

“It’s okay, son, your mother and I both know,” said Dad, tapping the side of his nose. “We just want you to know we still love you whatever your sexuality.”

“I’m straight, Dad. Why is that an issue?”

“It’s okay, son. We can understand you not wanting to come out while you’re still at school. We’ll keep your secret until you’re ready.”

“What, you think I’m gay?”

“Your mother and I have known for a long time.”

“But what about those girlie magazines in the bottom of my wardrobe?”

“We realised they were just for show. We haven’t found where you hide your gay magazines, so we’re thankful for your discretion. We wouldn’t want your sister to see them for a few years yet.”

“Dad, I’m not gay!”

Again Dad tapped his nose knowingly, then he went indoors.

I put all the tools away then went and showered. Afterwards I headed for the kitchen to get a drink. My mother was there, busy preparing the evening meal.

“You’re a good boy, Kevin,” she said, giving me an unaccustomed hug.

“Mum!” I protested.

“Your father told me Melinda turned you down for the prom. Have you thought of asking Terri?”

“Mum, I’m not taking my sister to prom. Besides, there’s the Age Appropriate rule. Nobody can take a partner more than a year older or younger, and Terri is two years younger.”

Mum hugged me again. Definitely in the very weird range on the normal to weird scale.

“You’re my son and I love you no matter what,” she said. “I just want to see you happy.”

I did the only thing which struck me as remotely sensible. “I love you too, Mum,” I replied. That appeared to be the right thing to do because she smiled and released me.