Stronger Than Lions - 22. Storms and Teacups

PART THREE

Zenith and Nadir

I was spending an excruciating Saturday morning at the dining room table trying to cram for my learner’s licence exam when the doorbell rang. I looked up through the bay windows to our front garden and saw the top of the green Jeep I knew so well parked on the side of the road.

‘That was quick,’ I said over the intercom. I’d texted Chris just two hours ago to wish him luck for his visit with his dad. I clicked the button to open the gate and jogged out the front door.

He stood in the driveway with his hoodie drawn over his head and his hands in his pockets.

‘Hi,’ he mumbled. He was sniffing loudly.

‘Hey. What’s wrong?’

He shook his head and started crying. I grabbed him. The heat of his tears, the red spread across his face, the way dug his fingers into my sides startled me.

‘What happened?’

His torso heaved as he clung to me. ‘He found out, Cal. About me. About us. And then he…’

I knew why his hoodie was up. I pulled it down. He flinched.

There was an agry shiner developing around his left eye. The corner of his lip was crusted with dried blood and was flaring up into a weal.

A rage bubbled up from the pit of my stomach, a rage I had not known before.

‘Did your dad do this?’

He screwed his eyes shut and nodded and whined like a puppy.

I took hold of his hand. ‘Come inside, babe. Come inside.' He didn’t say anything as I led him to the couch and sat him down. ‘You don’t have to say anything. Just sit here. I’m here. ’

He took a scatter cushion and clutched it to his chest.

‘It’s such a fucking mess, Cal. I hit him back and I think I broke his nose.’

‘I hope you fucking broke his nose,’ I blurted out and then regretted it as I saw him wince. ‘I meant, you hit him back. Not first.’

‘I should have been the better person. But he said stuff. Called me… called you…’

I nodded. ‘Faggots.’ I felt a little sick. The new rage was blending with the old shame that was always somehow inside me.

‘Tell me what you need,' I said. 'He attacked you. I can call the police.’

‘No.’

‘But…’

‘Hold me. Just hold me.’

I’m not sure how much time passed before I noticed my father staring at us awkwardly across the lounge. My heart pounded but I did not let go of Chris.

'Dad.'

'Oh, hi.' My father shifted around on his feet. ‘I got back early from golf and…oh Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, is Chris hurt? What happened?’

‘I’ve got it, Dad, I think he wants a little space right now.’ The sick feeling inside me eased a little as I saw the concern on my father's face.

‘Of course,’ he said, shuffling towards the kitchen. ‘Pretend I didn’t see or hear anything. All's good.’

‘No, Dr MacLeod,’ Chris said, his voice flat. ‘Please stay, sir. I could use a… a family right now.’

My father nodded. He walked up cautiously and narrowed his eyes as he stopped in front of us and saw Chris’s face.

‘Christ, laddie.’ It was the most gently spoken oath I had ever heard. ‘Let me make some tea,’ he continued. ‘My Susanna would make tea.’

‘That would be nice, sir.’

‘Coming right up,’ My dad started up his Awkward Whistle, Troubles With The Youth Edition. ‘And no need to call me sir.’

I stared at my wounded boyfriend. It dawned on me that up until I hugged him in the driveway, I had never called him ‘babe’ before.

Tea came. It was Dad tea: frothy, too sweet, in mismatched mugs, and what we needed.

My father sat down in his favourite wingback chair and bent forward. ‘Do you want to tell us what happened, Christopher?’

Chris took a loud slurp from his mug and knit his brow.

‘My mom went out, to give me space for my dad’s visit this morning. It started okay, he was, like all smiles. He was going to take me to lunch in Kalk Bay but then he told me Patricia and Bradley were going to be there too, and I said I didn’t want to.’

I squeezed his hand. ‘I totally get that.’

‘He got pissed and said I was being ungrateful because he’d come all this way to see me—which is bullshit!’ He looked at my dad. ‘Sorry, doc.’

‘Curse away, lad,’ said my father. ‘I’d be worried if you weren’t.’

‘Thanks. He hadn’t come all the way to see me cause the three of them have here a whole week already on holiday. So I just went to my room and he like stormed after me.’ Chris turned to me. ‘My dad saw the photo you’d given me and he asked me what all that was about, and I decided, fuck it. I told him. And then he lost it.’

My father and I looked at each other helplessly.

‘He hit you because you’re dating my son?’ my father said, aghast. ‘I know my first reaction wasn’t saintly but… fucking hell, laddie.’

Chris let out a bitter laugh. ‘I enjoyed telling him, you know? I enjoyed seeing the shock on his face. He’s always been a fuckin’ bigot. He grabbed me and was shaking me and shouting at me and I was just letting it happen but when he called us fa…fag…’

My father twitched slightly. ‘He called you what? I’ve a good mind to find this twat and... my apologies, Christopher. Continue.’

Chris sniffed again. ‘It's fine, doc. I, uh, appreciate it. So, yeah he said... that... and the next thing my fist was in his face. His nose just like cracked and there was blood and I freaked out and ran out and drove to you.’

‘I’m glad you did,’ I said, wanting to hold him but still feeling awkward in front of my dad.

‘I didn’t know what else to do. I haven’t told my mom. Oh God, I haven’t told her, what if she comes home and he’s still…oh shit what if he’s badly hurt? I hit him hard. Fuck, I hit him hard.’

‘I’ll handle that if I may,’ said my father. ‘Doubt he’s seriously hurt but let me say first you’ve done nothing wrong and he bloody well deserved it.’

Chris nodded weakly. ‘Thank you, doc. It’s just, nothing’s making sense.’

‘Can I call your mum, Chris?’

My boyfriend paused for a moment. ‘Okay.’

‘Right.’ My father blinked and got up. ‘You boys sit there and… Caleb… pour the lad a wee dram will you?’ He indicated the bottle of Laphroaig he had put down on the dining room table. ‘I don't think tea’s quite cutting it right now.’

* * *

Fiona was at my house in half an hour.

‘Ma,’ Chris said as he got up to greet her. ‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry.’

‘Sorry for what? It’s all right, sweetie.’ She was dead calm as she hugged her son. ‘I wasn’t at home yet when Cal’s dad phoned. I called ADT to check and it looks like he’d left. God help me, I’m getting a restraining order against him.’

‘I don’t think we need to,’ my boyfriend said, his voice leaden. ‘He just texted to say I’m not his son any more.’

There was silence. Fiona palmed her face and shook a little. My father spoke first, his voice a growl.

‘I am so sorry, lad. That is fucking beastly. I think you boys go upstairs to Cal’s room while I have a little chat to Chris’s mum.’

 * * *

We sat on the floor in my room next to my hi-fi, listening to Radiohead.

‘All those years of trying to be good enough for him,’ Chris said, staring out the window. ’It didn’t mean shit. And here I am vomiting out my bullshit for a second time in your room.’

I cradled him and leant back against the wall. He relaxed into my embrace.

‘Sequels tend to be longer and shittier,’ I said, putting my head on his shoulder. ‘Or they’re just the midpoint in a trilogy which has to go dark before we can head towards the happy ending in Part 3.’

He pondered this for a moment. ‘So what you're saying is I’m Luke, my dad is Vader, and this is my Empire Strikes Back moment… except this time Vader says to Luke “I am NOT your father”’?'

‘Oh shit. That’s… dark. Brilliant, but dark.’

‘Maybe it’s appropriate, bru.’ He continued with an eerie calm in his voice. ‘I feel all this rage. What if... oh god... I hurt you?’

I gave him a beady eye. ‘Easy, tiger. You only hit him in self-defence. You didn’t sock Bradley in the face when I think you should have—when he made that comment about going surfing. So you elbowed him in a scrum. So you smashed a few car windows. So fucking what. If I were here, someone would probably be dead, and it wouldn’t be me.’

He gave a half-smile. 'I keep causing you drama. First when my mom hurt herself, then I had to go and kiss you in public and you end up being nearly whacked by a bus, and now my fuckin' dad goes and ruins everything.’

‘Stop talking shit, babe,’ I said. ‘I love you. Okay?’

‘I love you too.’

I really wished I could have a cigarette. ‘Was he always like this?’

‘No. He was, like, my idol. Everybody loves Brian Hathaway, you know? The big successful businessman, with the massive farm in the Midlands, the wife and four sons. Charming as fuck, man’s man. Was always taking us on holidays and buying my mom expensive stuff… and when we lived on the farm it was like I was living in Anne of fuckin’ Green Gables or something. You know, wholesome.'

‘You've read Anne of Green Gables?’

‘I used to read a lot as a kid. I think that’s where we like disconnected. Would start saying things like I'm spending too much time reading books. That I wasn't tough enough. So I stopped reading and started being tough.'

‘Jesus.’

‘He always seemed to give my brothers more attention. I was always coming off second best with them, especially when we played rough and stuff. I was pretty scrawny.’

‘You were scrawny?’

‘Why do you think I know so much about gym and bulking up and getting shredded? I was like, maybe if I’m big and sporty people will respect me more. Sure, puberty and genes and rugby helped, but I spent like hours in the gym when I just wanted to sit in my room and listen to music or zone out.'

‘And read Anne of fuckin’ Green Gables.'

He gave a little exhale and smiled. ‘So yeah. And I got carted off to boarding school in Durban to follow in the footsteps of all the Hathaway men. My folks moved down there when Matt took over the farm. My dad was really happy when I made the first rugby team. I think that’s the only time he’s ever been happy with me. He and all my brothers played. Rugby is like a religion to him. I mean, I love it too, but…what if I turn out like him?’

‘Just because you share DNA and some interests doesn’t mean you have to share personalities,’ I said. ‘What are you scared of? That you’ll cheat? Because he did?’

He balled his fists.

‘Oh, babe,’ I said, and drew him close. ‘You’re being a dork.’

‘I hope I am,’ he said, sniffing. He shook his head and worried his tongue to the sore bit on his lip. 'Cal?' he said weakly.

‘Yes?’

‘When does all this stop? It feels like we keep on dodging waves the whole time. Is there going to be a disaster every time somebody finds out about us?’

I heard the Scriabin prelude in my head.

'Waves have rhythms,' I said. 'And people will just have to deal.’

‘Not everyone, bru. Your family and my mom are fine, sure. But the rest? What are my brothers going to think? I don't want to lose them too. And then there’s school. Gay kids get beat up, bru. It’s hectic shit.’

I didn't want to think about that last point. ‘Stop,' I said. 'You’re... what did Mom call it... catastrophising. We’ve kept a low profile at school. We’ll continue to keep a low profile. The year’s halfway done, anyway. As for your brothers, do you really think they’d react badly?’

‘Dad’s gonna tell. I’m not worried about Matt, but the others, I don’t know.’

I ground my teeth as I said the next words. ‘I’ll understand if you can’t do this. I don’t want to come between you and your family.’

‘No. Fuck, bru no. I am never letting you go. He clutched at me tightly. ‘It would be like cutting off my arm, man.’

We sat for a while listening to OK Computer finish. I was about to put on some Muse when my dad called us to come down.

* * *

We sat at the dining room table where my father set out a massive order of Nando’s he’d just fetched from the drive-thru in Claremont.

‘In a way I’m relieved that all this is out in the open,’ said Fiona, handing out serviettes. ‘You should know I’m happy for the two of you. Cal’s father and I support you both.’

‘I really do,’ my father said, fiddling with a packet of peri-peri sauce. ‘And you two don’t have to sit so far from each other for my benefit. For heaven’s sake, please hold hands or something. If Sarah was allowed to, then you should too.’

My mouth made a small ‘o’. ‘That doesn’t freak you out?’

‘No, laddie,’ he said, voice even. ‘I know you two have been playing things down for my benefit. I was also eighteen once. I don’t need to know sordid details but... anyway…pass the coleslaw, will you?’

Fiona managed a little cackle while Chris and I squirmed in our seats.

‘I think what Devon is trying to say is that we want you to feel safe with us.’

‘Thanks Ma,’ said Chris, looking genuinely moved.

‘Speaking of safety,’ my father began. He looked a little lost. ‘We just wanted to be sure that, well, since you two are now...how do I say this...'

‘We want to be sure that you will be practising safe sex,’ said Fiona simply. 'Pregnancy isn't an issue here, but, certain basics apply.'

‘Ma!’ cried Chris, turning purple. I started laughing, more out of reflex. ‘We haven’t...’ he yelped, ‘we haven’t…'

I waited for the ground to swallow me.

‘We had to say it,’ Fiona continued. ‘It’s not the fourteenth century. Promise us you’ll be safe?’

We nodded in unison.

‘Right,’ said my father. ‘Moving right along.’

I could almost hear my mother giggling at my father’s squeamishness.

‘There’s one more thing,’ said Fiona. ‘Chrissie, I’m in danger of letting this whole divorce swallow me. And it’s not fair on you. I’ve stopped drinking, but it’s been difficult. I need more help. So please don’t freak out, but I’ve decided to go to rehab.’

Chris was silent for a moment, and then his face went red. ‘I hate the bastard!’ he cried. ‘It’s his fault. I hate what he’s done to you—what he did to us!’ He flipped his hoodie over his face and retreated into the cowl.

‘Chrissie,’ she continued. ‘Don’t let hate consume you. Yes, he’s said and done some horrible things. But I don't want to go to my grave having projected my bitterness onto you. Maybe that’s why I tried to dilute it all in drinking. I was wrong.’

‘It’s still not fair,’ Chris repeated, like an automaton.

‘Maybe, Maybe not. I worry that you would have been happier staying with Matt on the farm and finishing school down the road in Maritzburg, but I dragged you along thinking a change of scenery would solve everything. It didn’t, not at first.. Until you met Caleb. You look happy for the first time in a very long time.’

He smiled a little, and so did I.

‘Which brings me to this, Christopher,’ continued my father.

‘Dr MacLeod?’

‘Would you like to stay with us while your mother goes away? We’ve discussed it and it seems to be the best thing.’

Chris and I had instinctively huddled together, as if we were rare animals on display at a zoo exhibit.

‘This is… kind of great, actually. Weird, but great.’

‘So you’re not going to be embarrassed about your crazy alcoholic mother checking into rehab?’ his mother said with a sad smile.

‘You’re not going to be embarrassed about your gay son with rage issues who got expelled from his last school?’ he shot back.

‘Oh, my boy,’ said Fiona, and walked over to Chris. She was tiny against him, but fierce as she held onto her son.

‘My boys, actually,’ she said, and reached out one arm to include me.

My father, ever the MacLeod, was humming to himself while he gathered up the plates.