by Chris Birch
'How are you feeling?' a voice asked.
It was Steph.
I tried to lift my head from the pillow but every movement made me feel more nauseous.
'Bit hungover are we?’
Her hair was still a little wet and she was wearing a crisp white shirt and pair of blue trousers. She must have already showered, I thought and worried about how long I had slept.
'Erm, a little,' I muttered.
I pulled myself out of the bed only to be met with a shattering headache as soon as I stood up.
I looked down, I was fully dressed.
‘We’ve got to be there in half an hour,’ she said.
Along with the heavy fog of a hangover I felt confused. It seemed odd that I hadn’t wanted to kiss Steph but with no time to question what had, or hadn’t happened the night before, I rushed back to my own room to get changed.
When I arrived back at the hotel lobby I rushed towards the conference room, desperate not to be late. I trailed down the corridor and noticed a tall, athletic man approaching me. His piercing blue eyes caught my attention and my heart began to race. Conscious that I was staring at him I looked down at the carpet and tried to focus on the garish purple pattern beneath me but the desire to look back was too strong. I found myself staring again, now the man was almost in front of me. His shirt buttons were slightly undone, a hint of his bare chest was on show and I suddenly imagined what he would look like with his shirt off. He was closer now, about to pass me. I wanted to speak to him, something was drawing me towards him like a magnetic force. In a split second he had passed me. Every instinct in my body wanted to turn around and follow the man.
What was that about? I reached the conference room, took a seat and tried to focus on the presentation that had already begun but my mind wandered. I remembered the man I had seen on the TV advert a few weeks before, then the guy I had watched walking down the street out of the office. There had been the same pang of excitement then that I felt now. It was unmistakable, I was attracted to those men. As much as that confused me, as strange as it was, I couldn’t deny that was how I felt. I thought back to Steph the night before, how uncomfortable I had felt with her, the way I had tried to avoid getting close to her.
For the first time, instead of trying to explain them away, I thought of all the times since I had the stroke that people had told me I was different. I didn’t like the same food, I hated the TV programmes I used to love, I didn’t even like my friends. Putting all the changes together I realised there were too many to explain away. The stroke had changed me and if it had changed so many other things about me maybe it had changed who I fancied too. I began to wonder, am I gay?
Chapter Twelve: Breaking Out
'We have some news,' Mum smiled, nervously.
Simon and I glanced at each other and he shot me a curious look.
Almost a year had passed since I had the stroke and Mum and Derek had invited us and the rest of the family to the house for a barbecue. After moving into Tom’s house a few weeks before I hadn’t got home much. I was enjoying being in the city and for the first time, being independent. So, the barbecue had seemed like a good excuse to see everyone.
'So, as you know, we’ve been together for three years now and well, we’ve decided the time is right for us to get married.’
Mum looked at Derek as she spoke, he was perched on the arm of her chair.
As the rest of the guests swarmed around Mum and Derek I took a step back. Married, already? Why? I tried to stop my negative thoughts. Mum’s happy and that’s all that matters, I decided.
'Congratulations,' I said.
I leant towards Derek and stretched out my hand, he grabbed it immediately. 'Thanks Mate, means a lot. In fact, we want you to be best man.’
‘Wow!'
My jaw fell, I was shocked, Derek and I hadn’t always seen eye to eye.
'Oh, of course, I would be, um, honoured.’
Mum smiled. She was clearly relieved. It might have felt odd but if being best man made her happy I knew it was the right thing to do.
'Congratulations Mum,' I grinned and pulled her in for a hug.
A lot had changed over the past year for Mum and I. We had gone from being inseparable as she nursed me through my illness to rarely seeing each other. My new independent life had begun to take shape, I had my new home, a new role at work that I enjoyed. There was just one area that had stayed stagnant, the question mark over my sexuality.
Weeks had passed since I had first fancied a guy and I was more sure than ever that I was gay. But I needed to talk it through with someone. Having turned away all my old friends I knew there was only one person left who I could confide in, the person I had always gone to, Mum. So, a week after she announced her engagement I asked her to meet me at Caerphilly castle, after work, so I could tell her what had been on my mind.
The day we arranged to meet I took the afternoon off work so I had plenty of time to talk through my feelings. I knew it would be a relief to confide in her, she had always been able to solve my problems and answer my questions, she would know just what to say.
At work, I anxiously waited for the clock to strike 1pm. I went to the toilet a dozen times, made five cups of tea but nothing I did seemed to speed up that morning. When 1pm finally came and I rushed towards the castle Mum was already there.
'Hi love.’
Mum gave me a big hug.
I cuddled into her arms and then we started walking around the gardens that surrounded the castle. I let Mum talk for a few minutes about the barbecue and the wedding, as I mustered the confidence to utter the unthinkable.
'So, what is it then?' she finally asked.
I looked at the black arched windows of the castle behind her. Why didn’t I tell her to meet me at a cafe or something? I suddenly realised how dramatic the back-drop was.
'I liked girls, before the stroke, didn’t I Mum?'
I had rehearsed my speech a dozen times.
Mum raised her eyebrows.
'Crikey, I should say so.’
'Well I don’t know if I do now.’
Mum’s face crumpled into a frown, she looked confused.
'Mum, this is going to sound mad ..but …well ..I think ...I might be gay’.
I said it quietly so the tourists passing us wouldn’t hear.
'Wh-a-at?'
'Sshhh' I said.
A group of sightseers were staring at us.
I signalled to Mum to carry on walking.
‘Well .. you know, so many things about me have changed since the stroke. I’m like a different person. Ever since the stroke I haven’t fancied girls, I’ve fancied Men.’
Mum raised her eyebrows and nodded.
'You certainly are different.’
A group of tourists walked past, they were taking pictures of the castle behind us, they stopped next to Mum and she quickly walked forward.
She looked behind her to make sure nobody was listening.
'But gay, Christopher? Do you really think that?'
I shrugged back at Mum.
'How else can you explain how I’m feeling?'
It was a relief to say the words out loud.
'I think i’m gay.’
'No you are not.’
'Erm, I think, I mean, I am Mum, I’m pretty sure I’m gay.’
'Don’t be silly Christopher, you aren’t.’
I had imagined she would take some convincing so I stayed patient, I had taken my time to get used to the idea, she deserved the same. But we had the same conversation repeatedly for the next forty-five minutes. I insisted I was attracted to men and Mum insisted that I wasn’t.
'You aren’t gay,’ Mum repeated, 'you’ve had so many different girlfriends, you were engaged to a girl for god’s sake'.
'That was before Mum, I think this has happened because of the stroke.’
‘No,no. I’ve read about this. People go through these stages now, when their young. They go through a phase and experiment, then
they settle down again, it’s very normal,’ Mum said.
Normal? I thought. I didn’t expect her to say that. I let out a long, slow sigh of relief. I had been terrified of confiding in Mum but now that I had told her I felt two stone lighter.
We weaved around an ice-cream van in the castle grounds. It seemed slightly bizarre that we were having this conversation surrounded by holidaymakers. I pondered Mum’s words. I had gone from only fancying girls to only liking men, it seemed pretty clear to me. But Mum was always full of wisdom when I needed advice and she rarely steered me wrong. Maybe it is just a phase? I thought.
We had been in the park for a few hours and had completed our slow loop around the grounds. It seemed like our conversation had come to a natural conclusion. Mum took my arm in her hand, her face had suddenly turned more serious.
'Chris,' she whispered.
'Don’t say anything to anyone, about, y’know…what you’ve told me.’
It was like she couldn’t say the word, ‘gay’, as if uttering it would let off a massive alert above our heads with a flashing light. I was confused, she had seemed fine when I first told her, or at least not as shocked as I had expected, now she was being really awkward.
Mum searched my face for an answer.
'It’s just, y’know, you don’t know what’s going on yet yourself, I think it’s best if I tell the family when you’ve decided,' she explained, calmly.
She didn’t look angry, or, upset, her face was frozen, it showed no emotion whatsoever. She’s probably right, I thought, she’s just looking out for me.
I nodded back at Mum and gave her a half-smile.
'I better go, we’ll speak soon,’ she said.
Before I could hug her goodbye Mum had already turned and walked a few feet away from me.
I watched the top of Mum’s head as it travelled through the crowds and I tried to collect my thoughts. When I had gone to meet Mum I had been sure that I was attracted to men, now I was doubting myself. Mum’s right, I thought, I’ll keep it to myself for now. I felt relieved to have told Mum but disappointed that everything wasn’t resolved. I had hoped speaking to her would make things clearer but I felt more confused than ever.
Determined to follow Mum’s advice I decided to let myself have more time to mull over how I felt but with each day that passed I became more convinced that I wasn’t going through a phase, I was gay. One day, I caught sight of a poster in my house-mate’s room, his door was left ajar and right behind it a blonde woman with huge breasts and plumped, pink, lips, stared back at me. I recognised her face, it was Pamela Anderson, the same poster had been taped to my bedroom at home. I stared at the image, I focused on her breasts, her lips, her eyes, I felt nothing.
A week after my chat with Mum at the castle I hadn’t heard from her. It was unusual for us to go so long without speaking. Even though I had moved out family was still very important to me. I would see my Dad every two weeks and would drive to his house to spend the day with him. Mum would usually call to check I wasn’t working too hard, or, that I was eating properly. I would pretend that her calls annoyed me, that I didn’t need her reminders but secretly I loved that she checked up on me. It made me feel as if I hadn’t completely left home behind.
Having gone days without speaking to her I began to worry that Mum was poorly so I decided to call her.
'Hi Mum,' I said happily, when I heard the receiver click.
‘Hello.’
It was Mum’s voice but she sounded strange, more formal than normal.
Perhaps she doesn’t realise it’s me? I reasoned.
'It’s Chris Mum.’
'I know.’
'Oh, right, erm, are you ok?'
'I’m fine. You?'
'Yeah, good.’
The line fell silent. I searched the contents of the room for something to talk about but nothing came to mind, in desperation I decided to just be honest.
'We haven’t spoken since our chat.’
'No. Do you still feel the same?' She asked.
'Well, yes, I do. I’ve thought about it and I still think I’m gay.’
'You aren’t Chris.’
Hang on? We’ve already covered this, I thought.
'I am Mum.’
'Don’t be silly.’
Now I didn’t know what to say. We had talked this over before, the conversation was going around in circles.
'Look, like I said, don’t tell your brother, or, Nan, I will tell them when the time is right,' Mum said.
‘Okay.’
'I guess you’ll still be best man.’
Still? I lingered on that word. What an odd choice of words. Why wouldn’t I be best man?
'Yeah, of course.’
'Listen, I better go, I need to get dinner on,' Mum said, hurriedly.
Before I could utter a reply she had ended the call.
That was weird, I thought, why was Mum acting so strange? I assumed she was tired, or busy. Instead of feeling upset I was resolute. My chat with Mum had helped me realise how clear things were to me. I didn’t need any more time to think, I was gay.
That moment there was knock at the door, my house-mate Tom, appeared in the doorway.
'Alright Mate?' he asked.
Something came over me, I was desperate to share my news with someone and since Mum had told me I couldn’t tell our family, I decided Tom would do.
'I’ve got something to tell you, it might surprise you …’ I started.
Tom just nodded back, he looked worried.
'I’m...gay,' I said.
I waited for some kind of reaction but Tom just shrugged.
'Oh right, cool, do you want a cup of tea?'
'Oh, yeah, um, yes please.’
I was surprised at how casually Tom had taken my news. To him it was no big deal but to me it felt like an exciting milestone. He closed the door and with that I had taken my first step into my new life.
Mum and Derek’s wedding was fast approaching but I still didn’t know whether Mum had told the rest of the family my news. I didn’t mind that Mum wanted to be the one to tell them, the thought of explaining myself over and over again, convincing everyone that I was sure of how I felt, seemed like an ordeal. Most people come out to a family who already might suspect that their child is homosexual. I had to come out to people who had spent the last twenty-two years thinking I was straight and had even been expecting to attend my wedding in the near future. So, if there was a way to avoid those awkward conversations, for Mum to have them on my behalf, that was fine by me.
But whilst Mum was going to update my family, it was my job to let my friends know.
One night after work we went to the pub next door to have drinks because one of the team was leaving. I sat in a chair next to my manager and she soon turned the conversation round to me.
'I’ve heard something about you Chris,' she smiled.
'What?'
'Well, I heard that you are, y’know, gay now.’
I wasn’t surprised, it had been four weeks since I had told Tom, it seemed natural that he would eventually tell someone, not out of spite, just in conversation. Instead of being worried, or concerned, I was relieved, it felt good that someone else knew about my new identity.
'That’s right.’
'Oh right. Well good for you,' she said and patted me on the shoulder.
It felt good to be honest with the people around me, it felt even better to be accepted by them.
In my role as Derek’s best man I was in charge of his stag do. I hadn’t spoken to Mum since our chat on the phone so assumed she was busy with wedding planning. If I plan a really good stag do for Derek that will bring us back together, I thought. So, I booked a table at the Chinese restaurant he liked but knowing a stag-do should be larger-than-life I decided to add a few extra touches.
On the night, we tucked into our Chinese meal and the staff brought out a carrier bag full of accessories I had arranged for Derek. Derek’s friends jeered and laughed as he pull
ed a bright pink shirt and even bolder pink, feather boa out of the bag.
'What do you expect me to do with this?' He huffed.
'Get it on!' one of his friends bellowed, as the rest broke into laughter.
Derek chuckled and pulled the shirt on whilst his friend wrapped the feather boa around his neck. At the same moment the staff brought out a huge cocktail glass decorated with sparklers and pink flamingoes.
'No more beers for you, this is what you’ll be drinking from tonight,' I announced.
Our table roared with laughter and Derek shook his head but he had a huge grin on his face, I could tell he wasn’t mad.
I knew a friend of mine had been taken to a special bar in town for his stag do. It was a really loud place that was open late and it’s unusual selling point was that the staff were all drag queens. It also happened to be a gay bar. I was nervous of taking Derek there, in case Mum had told him about me being gay and he thought I was trying to push my new lifestyle onto him.
'Do you think we should go to the drag bar?' I asked Derek’s friends when he was in the toilet.
'He will hate that, it will be hilarious,' one chuckled back.
It was my first trip to a gay bar and I was intrigued to see what it would be like.
When we walked in flashing red lights illuminated the room, men dressed as women with garish makeup and huge blonde wigs were standing on top of the bar. One of the ‘queens’ was wearing a red sparkly dress that caught the spotlight every now and then. She spotted our group and threw some glitter over our heads.
It was hard to take it all in, the bright lights, loud music, flamboyant characters, my eyes were darting around the room from one thing to the next. I knew I was gay but I didn’t feel like I could fit in there. I wasn’t sure that I liked it, everything felt too in your face, too much, too loud, too bright. I felt out of my depth. Will I have to start going to places like this? I wondered.
'You’ve stitched me right up here, haven’t you,' Derek chuckled, as one of the ladies from the top of the bar poured a bottle of vodka down his throat.