Scene Change - 3. Chapter 3

“And you said what?”

“I just replied and said thanks.”

“You’re an idiot Con, you know that, right?”

I’d been explaining to Helen about Joel coming over with Andre last week.

“I don’t know, it didn’t seem that clear.”

“What’s not clear? The gay guy texted you saying he had a great time.”

“Slow down, I don’t even know if he’s gay.”

“Fine. The single, rich, interested in your work, making nice conversation with you, gave you his number, told you he had a great time guy? That one. You’re probably right, I don’t know what I’m thinking.”

“How do you know he’s rich?”

“You said he lived out by the marina. There’s no such thing as cheap property over there.”

“Well, maybe. But maybe he was just being nice.”

“And did he reply to you again?”

“Well yeah, he said we should do it again some time.”

“I don’t know what you’re waiting for Connor, a hand written invitation? He is totally up for a date with you, or more, and not some weird play date with your kids after school, just you and him.”

“Maybe, I don’t know.”

Lunch with Helen had rapidly become my only social outlet. This wasn’t how I’d imagined my life would end up. As was usual for us, lunch had lasted significantly longer than was really necessary, although I wasn’t drinking, of course. I had to pick Leon up from school shortly. Helen finished her second, maybe third glass of wine.

“So what’s really holding you back?”

“Nothing. I don’t know. Can we talk about something else?”

“OK. I’ve got this friend, you’ll love her, well kind of, but anyway she’s directing a musical next year, are you busy?”

“A musical?” I’m sure my eyebrows were significantly raised. “Which one?”

“Oh god knows, does it matter?”

“Well yeah, kind of.”

“The one with the pineapple…”

“Cabaret?”

“No! The singer, it’s got that song in it, Barry whats-his-name…”

“Oh, the musical with a song in it. Copacabana.”

“No, no, the famous singer.”

“Barry Manilow?”

“Yes, that’s the one.”

“Yeah, it’s Copacabana. No thanks.”

“Oh. But it’s work Con, you’re not really giving it all up are you?”

“It’s hardly work, there’s no staging thats of any interest, and lots of neon. She doesn’t need a designer, she just needs an electrician.”

“For someone who supposedly hates musicals you always know a lot.”

“That’s because I’m good at my job. And no, I’m not giving up work, not until the London show is done anyway. I’m just not interested in a musical. It’s not even a good one.”

“How did you get from pineapple to Cabaret?”

“The song, there’s a whole song about a fucking pineapple in Cabaret, it’s a low point. How did you get a pineapple and a palm tree confused?”

“You should text him.”

“Don’t change the subject.”

“Don’t be an idiot.”

That was how we left it, although much better natured than it might sound. I got to school with five minutes to spare and just stood around in my usual spot. We all have our usual places on the playground, I’m not sure why. Joel hadn’t been around all week, and yes, I’d noticed that I was noticing. He was back though. I watched as he walked through the school gate and headed towards me. He looked good, and I mean, great really. He was just wearing jeans and a T-shirt, dark blue jeans that seemed to cling just the right amount in all the right places with a plain white T-shirt that most guys would think was ever so slightly too small. Nothing flashy or expensive, but he made it look as though it was designer chic. And he was clearly a very physically fit guy. I don’t know why I had to make the mental comparison, but he made me feel distinctly average as I looked down at my ‘worn in’ clothing choices.

“Hey Connor.”

“Hi Joel.”

“How’s it going?”

“Oh, you know, OK I guess.”

Fine, so maybe I had caught myself thinking about him on a couple of occasions, but that’s natural, right?

“You been busy? I’ve not seen you for a couple of days.”

Yeah, good one Con, that pathetic whiny desperate tone is a real winner.

“I’ve just been on-site with a client, nothing too exciting. Did you miss me?”

Joel was clearly joking, although I was distracted by wondering what he looked like on a construction site, in just a hi-vis jacket, boots, and a smattering of mud - a thought that had quickly turned to a terrible porn ‘plot’. The mini tidal wave that tried to knock me off my feet as Leon ran into me for a hug jolted me back to reality.

“Hiiiiiiiiii. Hi Joel.”

This micro-interaction was actually monumental. Leon didn’t talk to adults other than me, literally almost never. I’d met with his teacher a few times over the past months, and in school he was starting to talk a bit more, but outside of school, it was incredibly rare, and had never before been initiated by him. I tried my best to downplay it, although I’m fairly sure I looked as excited as I felt.

“Hey buddy! Have you had a good day at school today?”

“Yeah…”

But something more interesting had come along and he was running around the playground with Andre, leaving Joel and I just standing there.

“So Connor, I was wondering if you wanted to go out for a beer sometime?”

Of course, out for a beer, probably watching sports, like guys do. Manly guys, grrrr. It doesn’t mean anything. Although why it had to I wasn’t sure, I’ve taken much less than that as a hint before.

“Yeah, sure, just message me.”

“OK. Can’t I just ask you though?”

“Of course, I just meant… oh, you’re asking me now aren’t you.”

“That was the general idea.”

“Sorry, I guess I’m just more used to talking with Leon than with adults.”

“It’s OK, I’ll leave the offer open, you can come back to me whenever you want.”

“No, I mean, yes, beer would be great. I’m just not sure about going out, I don’t have anyone to look after Leon so…”

“No-one?”

I briefly considered all of the people I knew best that lived anywhere near. The closest to a possibility was Helen. She’s a really nice woman, and a great friend. But could I imagine her taking care of my son while I went out for a drink? Hell no.

“Actually, no.”

“Damn, we need to get you some more friends! But until then I’m sure Rachel would be happy to do it.”

“Your sister Rachel? Really? She doesn’t even really know me.”

“Sure she does, but why don’t you and Leon come for dinner this weekend. She’d love to meet you properly, and I think the two of you will get on well.”

“Are you sure?”

And what does that mean? Am I being set up with his sister? The guy was always so vague.

“Definitely, I’ll talk to her tonight and confirm details with you later.”

“OK, thanks Joel.”

“Any time.”

I turn to look for Leon, conscious of the time.

“Leon, c’mon, we have to get going if you want to go to football.”

He started to run towards me.

“Football huh?”

Joel was still standing next to me.

“Yeah, he said he wanted to try it. It’s totally not my thing, but if he’s interested then I guess that’s all that matters.”

Leon had arrived and was now pulling my hand to try and hurry me along, as if I hadn’t been waiting for him for ten minutes.

“OK, looks like we’re going, let me know about Saturday.”

“Will do, have fun at football.”

That seemed unlikely. I drove over to the club where there were plenty of other parents taking their kids for the taster session. Lots of Dads with their sons, which made me feel ever so slightly like a fraud. Not that I’m not a real Dad, but I’m not quite like them. Some of them were pretty fit too, which wasn’t particularly helpful. Soon enough I found myself watching as Leon played some indoor five-a-side, whilst I leaned against the barrier with the other parents. To be fair, calling it football was perhaps an exaggeration, but maybe as close as four and five year olds get. Some parents were excessively enthusiastic, competitive even, whilst others were clearly bored. I was closer to bored, but happy that Leon seemed to be enjoying himself and was talking with some of the other kids too. A few of the other Dads broke off into a typical man conversation about football, unsurprisingly enough, which I didn’t get involved in. Firstly, I know basically nothing about football, and secondly, I didn’t really know how to handle it. So I kept mostly to myself, chatting politely but briefly with anyone who made the first conversational move. It was becoming abundantly clear to me that I really had to find a way to deal with this. I’m not actually an anti-social guy, quite the opposite, but I didn’t know how to be Leon’s Dad and be the openly gay easy going fun guy I used to be at the same time.

Quite apart from anything else, how was I supposed to manage that with Leon? He thinks I’m basically the best Dad in the world, which is flattering, even if it’s wrong. How do I explain to him that his Dad isn’t like the other Dads at school, or at football? Without any planning, I’d found myself living in the real world, and it was much more difficult than the pseudo-reality of working and living solely in the theatre world. It was too complicated, so I did what any normal guy would do and I avoided it. I knew it wasn’t really going to just go away, but the longer I could delay it the better.

Leon was super tired after playing football so was early going to bed, although not tired enough to forgo the two stories we had to read. He likes it best when I do the voices for all the different characters and laughs at me hysterically when I forget which voice I’ve arbitrarily assigned to which character and get it wrong. I’m not sure which of us enjoys the bedtime stories the most. He probably likes the actual stories more than I do, but I definitely enjoy the time we spend reading them.

I sat on the sofa with a beer, idly flicking through TV channels, when my phone vibrated. It was switched to silent, as it is for 90% of the time. A message from Joel.

‘Hi, dinner sorted for 6:00pm on Saturday’

‘Great, thanks’ I messaged back.

How had this happened? It was a perfectly nice, friendly, and helpful gesture, so why was I trying to find reasons to back out?

‘Come earlier if you want. How was football?’

And now this. Casual conversation, what next? And why do I find myself repeatedly starting to type an answer and then deleting it? I started again, convincing myself that I was actually going to send it this time, but was interrupted by my phone vibrating much more persistently. As the caller name flashed up my heart sank a little. Some things just weren’t worth trying to avoid, like tidal waves or nuclear explosions, by the time you see it it’s almost certainly too late to worry.

“Hey Ma.”

“No, I know, still not American, just doing it to annoy you. How’s the Lord?”

I don’t remember how it had started, but knowing how disproportionately irritating she found it just seemed to keep it funny.

“Yeah yeah. So how are you?”

“And Dad?”

“Yeah, I’m good Ma. And Leon, you remember him right? My son, your grandson, he’s good too.”

“Yes, *still* here.”

“We’ve been through this. He’s really my son. If you would just come down here and see him then you’ll see for yourself.”

Predictably this bought me a few minutes of just having to listen to stuff I was now very used to hearing, so I got myself another beer while I waited.

“It’s not a lifestyle choice Ma! One day you’re just going to have to accept it. But I still think you should come and meet your only grandson.”

Truly, the woman is infuriating. I’m 22 years old, and I came out to her, and everyone, when I was 14. By then I’d known for a really long time and it wasn’t a big deal to me. Yet still, she talks about it as if I’m just going through a phase. We had some serious arguments when I told her about Leon. She was, and probably still is convinced that I’m unable to raise a kid whilst making the ‘lifestyle choice’ to be gay. I know she doesn’t like it, but I’d thought that Leon might give her a reason to come and visit, although that hasn’t happened so far. It’s even more annoying that I try and love her anyway, or at least, the idea of her.

“So are you going to come and see us?”

“Any day, just tell me when.”

“Yeah, of course, let me know when you’re not too busy then.”

“Tell Dad I love him.”

She won’t, neither of them use words as emotionally charged as ‘love’.

“OK then, love you Ma.”

“Bye.”

She didn’t seem to want anything in particular, just calling to ensure I remembered what a failure I am and will continue to be. So touching. It wasn’t even ten minutes, but she managed to make it feel so much longer. I looked back to my phone, which had reverted to the last message from Joel, and my half typed not sent reply. I deleted what I’d started to write. Then I realised I was probably being stupid and over-thinking the whole thing, but still didn’t reply, choosing to go to bed instead, alone, just like every other night for the last 6 months.

Some time around three in the morning I woke up as I heard Leon’s door open, and moments later he was climbing into my bed. I don’t know how he does it, he seems to be asleep again within seconds, and I’m wide awake worrying about what’s woken him up, or scared him, or whatever else might have happened for him to need me in the middle of the night. Whatever it is, it seems to be solved by sleeping next to me. Although that is more generous than reality, he’s not a restful kid, always tossing and turning, usually ending up laying in some crazy angle across the bed, whether or not I’m in the way. I worry about what it must be like in his head, and feel totally useless when all I can do is cuddle him, and tell him I love him, hoping that he feels safe. Of course he’s only four, so that actually seems to work a lot of the time. But this isn’t the kind of bedtime contact I was missing, although in it’s own way it’s just as rewarding. Sort of. OK, not at all as much fun in any way, but it also seemed to preclude any more fun activities with guys like Joel. Not that there were any guys like Joel. I couldn’t identify exactly what it was, or wasn’t, that made him different, but there was definitely something.

Morning arrived a little too soon for my liking, but none the less we went through our usual school day routine, which was mostly filled with me doing everything and feeling busy, whilst Leon appeared to drift through somehow being ready for school in time with very little effort but still being able to make the most phenomenal amount of mess. I know, I’m the adult, he’s a kid, I’m supposed to be doing everything. I’m just still not great at mornings. But, it was Friday, so the weekend was close. Tomorrow would be Saturday, obviously, and whatever dinner with Rachel and Andre, and Joel of course, would mean.

I didn’t tell Leon about it until Saturday morning while we were making breakfast. Weekend breakfast was usually more relaxed than school day breakfasts, so we have time to make pancakes or waffles or eggs or whatever Leon feels like really. After we’d had a very long conversation one morning about why I wasn’t going to make roast beef for breakfast he usually opted for waffles. I wish it was pancakes because they are much easier to make, but it’s mostly not.

We had some things to do in town, Leon needed some new shoes, and then we went to the library to get some new books. He seemed to go through clothes and books at an alarming rate, but at least you can borrow the books for free. The shoe shopping didn’t take long, Leon isn’t really interested so it’s easy. Books, on the other hand, take significantly longer. His favourite librarian was working as usual, so she spent a very long time helping him choose what to read next. I’m sure he has a better social life than I do, the kid who barely speaks to adults definitely had better adult relationships than I did. By the time we got home he must have asked me at least a hundred times if it was time to go to Andre’s house yet. I texted Joel to check we wouldn’t be too early, and in doing so reminded myself of our last, unfinished text chat. He’s going to think I’m a rude uninterested idiot. Maybe the idiot part is close. He said it would be fine, so after lunch we walked over. I picked up a bunch of flowers on the way, I don’t know if Rachel is a flowers type of woman, but it’s rude to turn up empty-handed.

Leon headed straight past her and off into the house as if he owned the place, leaving me standing in the doorway. Rachel was actually really great and it was easy chatting to her for a few minutes. Joel appeared from the kitchen a moment later and surprised me with a hug. I mean, it was nice, real nice, but still surprising. The three of us sat downstairs, where it quickly became apparent that Joel had told her everything he knew about me already. Rachel was a very interesting woman, and we talked a lot about art and architecture and things like that, we had quite a lot in common. It was a weird experience though, talking with her was so easy and interesting, and yet, all I really wanted to do was talk with Joel. Like talking to Kelly Brogan at the school disco in year 10 when all I wanted to do was talk to her brother, who was standing next to her. There was more than one or two moments when I caught Rachel and Joel looking at each other in ways that I couldn’t decipher. Unlike with Kelly Brogan, I didn’t tell her that I thought her brother was hot.

Joel said he had to go and finish preparing dinner, and Rachel went off to ‘check on the boys’.

“You can give Joel a hand in the kitchen” she said as she left.

I had no idea if this was a carefully crafted piece of stage management or just one of those things that happen. But I could definitely give Joel a hand, and a whole lot more in the kitchen. But neither of us outwardly acknowledged the double entendre. I walked in to the kitchen where Joel was busily preparing what appeared to be enough food for twenty people.

“Can I do anything to help?”

“Oh, hey, no I think I’m about done, you want a beer?”

“Sure, just one won’t hurt.”

He grabbed a couple of bottles from the fridge, and we were then standing slightly too close to each other. Or at least, closer than guys usually stand to each other. I could feel the heat from his body, and smell him. He smelt good, I must find out what that aftershave was. Our arms occasionally brushed against each other as we stood drinking and chatting, and more than once I lost track of what we were talking about due to being too distracted by him. He was wearing a t-shirt in his apparently regular ‘just a little bit small’ size, which showed off his toned arms perfectly. And his jeans, grey this time, were again tight in all the right places, displaying an amazing ass and very pleasing bulge. It’s hard to concentrate when faced with dreamlike things like this.

I found myself sat opposite Joel for dinner, and it was genuinely great to be having normal, grown up conversations, whilst Leon and Andre were absorbed in their own little world at the end of the table. And then, normality turned to awkward nightmarishness.

“So Connor, can I ask…” Rachel started, and you just know that an opening like that means that they are going to ask anyway, and it’s going to be one of those awkward types of questions.

“…I mean, I know his Mum isn’t around, so are you seeing anyone?”

Wow, talk about getting straight to the point.

“Oh, well, no, I’ve been kind of busy, you know.”

“Yeah, of course, I just wondered, you know, if there was anyone special.”

Was she asking for herself? Doesn’t she know I’m gay? Hadn’t Joel told her? Oh wait, no, because I don’t have a big sign above my head and I haven’t told him. Why not? Hell, this was going to be beyond awkward.

“No, not exactly.”

Why? Why did I have to say that? Just say ‘no’ and leave it at that. But I hadn’t.

“Oh? So there might be someone?”

“Yeah, I guess there might be. Honestly I don’t know at the minute. It’s really complicated.”

“Why is it complicated?”

Now it was Joel asking, and he sounded more intense than I had expected. I tried to choose my words carefully, unsure of what game, if any, we were now playing. I glanced to Leon, who didn’t seem to be paying us any attention.

“Well, I don’t know how they feel, or even if they’re interested. And if they are, I still don’t know how I’d manage being in a relationship now I’ve got Leon.”

“Oh?” It was back to Rachel, which was a relief.

“Being a Dad is still really new to me, and it’s hard enough. Being in a new relationship as well, I guess I worry that it might be too difficult. And I don’t know how Leon would be with it, he’s had enough crazy for his whole life already.”

“Yes, of course, I can understand that. But don’t let your life disappear Connor.”

“No, I know, and I won’t. Maybe it’s just a bit too scary right now, and it would be a lot for someone to take on wouldn’t it, a single Dad.”

This, this is the precise moment where I could, and probably should have stopped talking and moved on to a less personal topic. It’s also, naturally, the moment when I carried in talking. Why? Because it was just too bizarre and stupid to let things go on like they were.

“But you never know, there might be someone. He’d have to be pretty special though.”

There, it was out there, sitting in the middle of the table, to be brushed to one side and never mentioned again, talked around and avoided for the rest of dinner, or quietly assimilated into our conversation. As a gay man I’m very used to how this works. I’m aware of it, every single time. There was a pause. The briefest of pauses, which you could have easily missed and just assumed to be a conversational lull. But it was there, and in it, there was a look. Another indecipherable look between Rachel and Joel. And then things moved on, or not, as the case may be. Rachel broke the momentary silence, and did so in a smooth and confident tone.

“So the ’maybe’ guy, is he special enough do you think?”

“Oh yeah, I think so.”

I couldn’t help my glance towards Joel, although I wished I hadn’t done as I met his eyes looking directly at me.

“So what’s stopping you finding out?”

“It’s complicated” I said, gesturing towards Leon.

“Oh, right, he doesn’t know?”

I didn’t feel at all comfortable having this conversation in front of Leon.

“No, he doesn’t, not yet.”

“And that’s all that’s stopping you?”

“Yes, well, I think so anyway.”

“I’m getting another beer, do you want one?”

Both Rachel and I watched Joel as he left the table and went out to the kitchen, I guess for different reasons. When I looked to her she had obviously seen me watching him too. She smiled and didn’t say anything. Joel was back a minute later and I deliberately moved the conversation away from me. It worked, for a while anyway. We made it through the rest of dinner, including an amazing chocolate cake for dessert without any further exploration of my love life or lack thereof. Andre and Leon were quickly restless, wanting to get back to whatever they were playing beforehand.

“I’ll finish tidying up here. Why don’t you two guys go and sit in the lounge?”

To say things were awkward would be a significant understatement, as we sat at either end of a large sofa, neither of us knowing what to say first. At least that was my best guess at what was happening. In reality it was probably only a few seconds, but it felt longer.

“So this guy” Joel began, “does he really know how you feel?”

“I don’t know, but I think he’s starting to work it out.”

“You haven’t talked to him about this?”

“Not exactly.”

This was so crushingly weird and awkward. How have I ended up talking to the guy I wanted about himself but being all teenage-angsty third person about it?

“Then I think you should tell him, really clearly, what’s going on for you.”

“Yeah? Do you think he’d be interested in a slightly complicated single Dad?”

“He’d be stupid not to be. In fact, I think he’d be more than interested. I know I would be.”

With perfectly terrible timing Andre came crashing through the room, closely followed by Leon. They were pirates, apparently. I’m not entirely sure when pirates used lightsabers, but maybe I missed that lesson in school. The tension that I had been feeling was broken, but so also was the moment for doing or saying anything about it further. I felt more like an embarrassed awkward teenager than a relatively grown man, and soon made a polite but faster than needed exit with Leon, feeling guilty about blatantly using him as an excuse - although he was getting tired. As we were leaving, having already thanked Rachel, Joel caught my arm, bringing me to a stop in front of him.

“Connor, I think you’re doing an amazing job with Leon and any guy would be lucky to be part of your family.”

The sincerity in his eyes and his voice was impossible to ignore, and consequently somewhat overwhelming. A family? I’d never thought of the two of us as a family before, and it was a lot of emotions to try and process all at the same time. And with Joel too? I didn’t cry, but there was a definite lump in my throat. I looked into his eyes, searching for some way to make sense of how I could make this ever work with Leon and found nothing. So I turned away and left.

Leon was quiet on the way home, which was both a good and bad thing, as it left me with the opportunity to overthink the whole situation. After our regular bedtime routine, I looked down at him as he went to sleep and silently clarified what I already sort of knew. Whatever the future might be, whoever I might want to be in it, it would have to be on the condition that Leon was OK with it.