Storms - 36. Michael

My parents came home late Saturday night. Or early Sunday morning, depending on your definition. I heard them arrive, heard Liz greet them downstairs, but I was too tired to get up and do the same, after the day I’d had. Dealing with Daniel’s anxiety after seeing his mum had been exhausting and heartbreaking. We had taken him back home, and he and I had hung out in his room, cuddling and kissing, until he could manage to go downstairs and eat something.

Not that I minded. I wanted to be there for him, and I wished I could have stayed the night. It was probably hell for him. At the same time, when I had come home just after eight o’clock, I had been so emotionally drained that I had gone straight to bed. Spent some time reading, trying to unwind. I realised that the book was still lying open, face down on the bed next to me. I located my bookmark (a used train ticket to Brighton that was three and a half years old) and put the book on my nightstand. I somehow managed to get back to sleep after that.

In the morning I went down to the kitchen to find my parents having breakfast. Mum immediately got up and came over to hug me. ‘Oh, my beautiful boy! How are you feeling? How have things been? I feel like we’ve missed so much!’

Laughing, I hugged her back. ‘No worries. I’ll fill you in as we go. How was Ghana?’

‘Hot,’ said Dad. ‘I honestly thought I would combust. We’ve used so much sunscreen.’ He stood and hugged me as well. ‘It’s so good to see you, son.’

‘Good to see you too. Both of you.’ It was strange. I had missed them, of course, but only now, being hugged and breathing in the scent of Mum’s perfume and Dad’s aftershave, did I realise how much. ‘I missed you.’

‘We missed you, too,’ said Dad, and his eyes looked a little wet.

I sat down at the breakfast table. There were eggs and bacon and sausages and baked beans, and even hash browns. ‘Guessing you didn’t get a lot of full English breakfasts in Ghana?’ I said with a grin. ‘Did you miss it?’

Mum shrugged. ‘Actually, there’s not a lot you can get here that you can’t get in Accra. Liz had it ready for us when we woke up, though.’

‘Where is she, anyway?’ I piled my plate high. I hadn’t eaten for about fifteen hours, I realised.

‘She went out to pick up things for dinner tonight,’ said Dad. ‘She’s promised us a feast. Oh, and she mentioned something about a couple of friends maybe coming over for dinner?’

‘Er, yeah,’ I said. ‘If it’s all right.’

‘The more the merrier.’ Mum smiled. ‘Honestly, going back to small family dinners is going to be a bit of an adjustment. We’ve hardly been by ourselves for the whole trip. Some days we had dinner with locals, some days with the folks from that German organisation we were working with. We’ve made many friends. Gonna have to return to Ghana to see them at some point. Maybe we could make a family holiday out of it?’

‘That would be awesome,’ I said, grinning. ‘Always wanted to go to Africa . . .’

‘Africa isn’t one country, you know,’ said Dad with a chuckle. ‘Ghana is nothing like, say, Morocco. And Morocco is different from Ethiopia, which is nothing like Tanzania. Different people. Different cultures and foods . . . It’s a very rich continent in that sense.’

I nodded, slightly embarrassed. That was probably the sort of thing I should have known. ‘What did you get up to?’ I asked.

‘Vaccines, HIV prevention, disenfranchised youth . . . Things like that.’ Mum smiled. ‘We worked with local organisations. Our money, their programmes. We were mostly based out of Accra, though. Not especially hands-on or anything.’

‘I was looking into the LGBT rights situation,’ said Dad. ‘Male homosexuality is punishable by up to ten years in prison.’

I frowned. ‘What about female?’

Dad shrugged. ‘Perfectly legal. It’s pretty normal, really. Female sexuality is in many cultures considered to be practically non-existent, or at least very different from male sexuality. Used to be that way here, too, really. Lesbianism was never illegal in England, either.’

‘Huh. I didn’t know that.’ This could have been the perfect coming out moment, really, but I had already decided to do it that evening. Seemed better, somehow. I wasn’t sure why.

‘It’s getting better, though,’ said Dad. ‘The situation in Ghana is nowhere near as bad as you might think from their legislation. Police even protect LGBTQ people against attacks. Still a lot of stigma, though. That’s where the work is needed. Actually, more and more African countries are decriminalising homosexuality, and many countries never criminalised it to begin with. The world is moving forward, right?’

‘Every day.’ Mum smiled. ‘There’s so much hope.’

* * *

Needless to say, I was nervous. We were going to eat at five, and by four o’clock I was practically pacing my room. I was going to come out to my parents. I was going to introduce them to Daniel.

Liz had invited Jamal over. Since my birthday, they’d spent a lot of time together. I was happy for her. Jamal was a really chill guy, and very kind. The sort of person I aspired to be. I was glad Liz had found someone like that.

Fred, her ex, had not been a cool person. He’d been jealous and controlling and had hurt her a lot, which explained why she hadn’t been dating for a long time. She and Jamal had gone out on several dates, and she had come home blushing and happy. And he’d stayed over a few times, of course. Made me glad our rooms were across the hall from each other and we didn’t share a wall.

Jamal showed up at half-past four. Liz immediately introduced him as her boyfriend. Mum was ecstatic and hugged him. Dad shook his hand. He’d never been the ‘hurt my daughter and I’ll kill you’ type, so he greeted Jamal with genuine warmth and interest.

Soon after, I got a text from Daniel. I’m scared.

Why? I wrote back.

What if they don’t like me?

I smiled to myself. They’ll love you. I promise they will.

Okay. Stephen’s driving me over now.

Good, I wrote. See you soon.

He arrived ten minutes later. I went outside to meet him by the car.

Stephen was hugging him goodbye. I wasn’t sure when he had become Stephen to me and stopped being Mr. Griffiths, though he had to be the latter at school. ‘You don’t need to be nervous,’ he was saying to Daniel. ‘They’ll like you. I’m sure of it.’

‘You don’t even know them,’ Daniel mumbled.

‘I’ve spoken to them at Parents’ Night for two years now, Danny.’ Stephen smiled. ‘They’re good people.’

‘He’s right, you know,’ I said. ‘I’m not worried at all.’ I was, though. Not about whether or not they would like Daniel. I was utterly convinced they would. But I was still nervous about coming out. I knew they’d be fine with it, but all the same. I didn’t let it show, though.

‘See?’ said Stephen, smiling. ‘Okay, I’m gonna get going. I’ll pick you up at nine, all right?’

Daniel nodded. ‘Yeah. Thanks.’

‘No worries, pal.’ Stephen clapped me on the shoulder. ‘Bye, Michael. I’ll see you later, Danny.’ Then he got back in the car and drove away.

Daniel swallowed and looked at me with eyes full of trepidation. ‘Are you sure they won’t hate me?’ he said in a small voice.

‘I am one thousand percent sure they will not hate you.’

He nodded. ‘Okay.’

I kissed his cheek, took his hand, and led him inside. We walked into the living room, where the others were sitting. I did not let go of his hand. I might as well get it over with, I reasoned.

‘Mum? Dad?’ I said, and they looked up. ‘This is my boyfriend. Daniel.’

Dad didn’t even miss a beat. ‘Oh! It’s really nice to meet you, Daniel.’

‘Yes, very nice,’ Mum echoed. She stood up, came up to us, and hugged Daniel. He looked so surprised that I had to suppress a laugh. Then Mum turned to me and hugged me too. ‘I was wondering when you’d figure it out,’ she said.

I stared. ‘You knew, too? Did anyone on the whole planet not realise I was gay?’

Dad and Liz raised their hands. ‘I didn’t,’ said Dad.

‘Me neither,’ said Liz. ‘Made sense when you told me, though.’

‘Oh.’ I smiled slowly. ‘Guess that’s all right then.’

‘Should it not be?’ said Dad. ‘So, how long have you guys been together?’

‘As long as Liz and Jamal,’ I said. ‘Since my birthday party.’

Daniel had stood dumbstruck until now, but now he spoke. ‘It’s really nice to meet you, too, Mr. and Mrs. Storm.’

Mum placed her hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. ‘Call us Diane and Joe, Daniel. There’s no need to be formal.’

‘Okay,’ he said, finally smiling, ‘Diane.’

Liz stood. ‘Now that we’re all here, let’s go sit down. Everything’s done.’ She smiled.

She really had prepared a feast. A Sunday roast with all the trimmings, followed by a homemade sticky toffee pudding.

‘I knew you could cook,’ I said around a mouthful of pudding, ‘but I had no idea you were this good at it.’

Liz grinned. ‘Well, now you do, little bear.’

‘So, Daniel,’ said Mum, ‘tell us about yourself!’

‘Oh!’ Daniel looked surprised. Then he turned his eyes down to his hands. ‘I, er . . . I’m not especially interesting. Not much to say, really.’

‘I’m sure that’s not true,’ said Dad.

‘Dad,’ I said. ‘Don’t push. Please.’

Daniel glanced at me and took a deep breath. ‘I live with foster parents right now. Stephen and Lewis. Er, Stephen is our PE teacher. He’s really nice. Lewis is, too. I’ve only been living with them for a couple of weeks, but . . . they’re awesome. Other than that, I don’t know . . . I like science-fiction, both films and novels. Some fantasy, too. I like video games. I only started at Michael’s school this term. I’m . . . I’m really glad I did. Cause I have friends now, and . . .’ I saw the back of his neck turn darker. ‘And I have Michael,’ he finished quickly, looking even more embarrassed.

‘I’m very glad you do,’ said Mum, smiling. ‘You seem very happy together.’

Daniel smiled, looking down at his hands again.

‘We are,’ I said, and he nodded his agreement.

‘Good.’ Dad reached out and squeezed my shoulder. Neither of them asked why Daniel was in foster care. I was very grateful for that.

* * *

I didn’t get to see Daniel much for the week leading up to Christmas. I had him over once, and went over to his once as well, but there was so much to get ready, decorations to put up (we hadn’t really done much decorating before my parents got home; it had always been Dad’s forte), cakes and biscuits and pies to bake (which was generally my responsibility, as it had been since I learned how to work the oven), and Christmas presents to wrap. We talked every day, though.

My grandparents came for Christmas Day dinner. Both of Dad’s parents were still alive, but my maternal grandfather died before I was born. My mother’s mum was my Nan, while Dad’s parents were Granny and Granddad.

‘Oh, my Misha!’ said Nan when she saw me, grabbing my face and pinching my cheeks. ‘You are so tall now!’

Having had no sons of her own, Nan had always doted on me. She had nary a hint of a Russian accent, having arrived in England quite young, but she had always called me Misha. A nickname for Michael, it also meant bear (which was how Liz had come up with her nickname for me). I hugged her. She seemed so tiny to me now. ‘I missed you, Nan.’

Then Granny and Granddad arrived, more hugs were exchanged, and we all sat down for Christmas dinner. Turkey and then Christmas Pudding.

‘So, how’s school, Michael?’ Granny asked. ‘Ready to sit your GCSEs?’

I shrugged. ‘I guess. School’s okay.’

‘I heard you got a piano for your birthday,’ said Granddad. ‘Have you been playing it much? Getting back to it? You were so talented when you were little.’

Granddad was a hardcore classical music fan. He was the one who tried to convince both Liz and me to learn instruments. Liz had grown bored with the piano very quickly. I tried the violin at first, but couldn’t stand to listen to myself practise, so I dropped it in favour of piano. Granddad had been devastated when I started high school and decided I’d rather play drums, though part of the reason for that was that our old piano had gotten so hard to tune we had to throw it out.

I smiled. ‘Yeah, I’ve been playing a bit. Not as much as I’d like, I’ve been kind of busy lately.’

‘Busy, eh?’ said Nan with a smile. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve finally found a nice girl, Misha?’

‘Oh. Er . . .’ I hesitated. Glanced at Mum. She gave me an encouraging smile. ‘I, er, I have actually found someone,’ I said.

‘Oh, how wonderful!’ said Granny. ‘What’s her name?’

I licked my bottom lip. ‘His name is Daniel.’

The table fell silent for a long moment. I looked down at my hands, afraid of what I’d see if I looked at them. They were old. Nan was the oldest, and Russian, and fairly traditional. I practically held my breath. Then Granddad said, ‘Is he a nice boy?’ I looked up.

‘He’s a very nice boy,’ said Dad. ‘A bit shy, perhaps, but kind.’

There was another moment’s silence before Nan spoke. ‘Are you happy, Misha?’

I met her pale blue eyes and couldn’t help the grin that bloomed across my face. ‘Yeah. I’m . . . I’m really happy.’

‘Well,’ said Nan with a shrug. ‘As long as you are happy.’

And that appeared to be that. Conversation resumed, now directed at Liz, as they wanted to know all about her studies and her new boyfriend (‘I never liked that Fred,’ said Granny), and I was left with a feeling of almost wonder. I wasn’t sure what I had expected, but this hadn’t been it. I recalled my parents’ words: The world is moving forward. Every day. There is so much hope. And I could feel it.

Extra epic thanks to @Nancer for helping me with research and educating the shit out of me for this chapter; it was sorely needed. Love you, bro.