Date: Thu, 27 Jan 2000 07:00:43 -0800 (PST)
From: Willie Hewes <williehewes@yahoo.com>
Subject: the learning years (11)

Part 11

I woke up that morning with a living, breathing boy next to me in the room
and a resolution in my head. Perhaps I had decided it while I was not yet
fully awake, or perhaps I had dreamed about it, I don't remember. I got up
and put my clothes on without waiting for Charlie. If I hurried, I might
catch both my parents at the breakfast table, and there was no more time to
hesitate.

     And yet there was. I sat at the table, chewing on the most
horribly-tasting sandwich ever, going over different ways to bring the same
bad news. I settled for simplicity. Or bluntness, as you might call it.
     "There's something you have to know." pause. One heartbeat, no
breath. I'm practically peeing my pants. "I'm gay." I let my breath go in a
rush, am I relieved? My parents are quiet.
     "And Charlie..." my mother starts.
     "He's, um..." I hesitate. "We're in love." That sounds good. I'm the
only one who thinks so.
     "And we just let 'em sleep in his room," my father grumbled.
     "No, we didn't do anything," I protest, "I mean, we haven't..." Oh,
this is painful. Silence again. A long silence. Then Charlie came in.
     "Good morning!" I looked at him in despair, and realized I should have
asked him to be there.
     "Charlie," my mother staid with a strained voice, "we would like a
moment to talk to Eduard."

     "Oh, you told them!" Eddy cried enthusiastically, "congratulations." I
could only smile at him, and nod. He sat down opposite me, ignoring my
mother's request. He seemed to notice the tense silence for the first time,
and said:
     "Well, I mean, it's better to tell than to let people figure it out. I
wish I would have told my parents."
     "Your parents don't know about this?" my father asked.
     "Well, they don't know about Eddy, er, yet. They do know that I'm gay,
though. It's just, I don't go there very often." At the moment, I hated him
for not giving me an opportunity to talk to my parents. It was much later
that I realized he had a Plan. He knew what he was doing. "They live in
Drenthe, and I only go there on birthdays, and for Christmas, you
know. When there's plenty of other people to talk to."
     "You mean they won't talk to you anymore? But that's... You never told
me." I was really shocked. What kind of people were his parents?
     "Well, I'm not exactly proud of it. Besides, my mother still talks to
me. I was there for her birthday, and she told me all about how good my
cousin looked at his wedding." He said the last words with deliberate
hesitation. My mother looked at me, my father looked at him. I couldn't
speak. I simply didn't know what to say.
     "It's not your fault, did you tell them?" he asked me, and for a
moment I didn't understand what he meant. "It's not his fault, that's
important to understand," he told my mother. "He didn't ask for it, and he
can't help it."
     "No," I said, "that's right." It was a good thing to say. Something
out of a How-to-come-out guidebook. There was another pause. Charlie seemed
to be waiting for someone else to break it, he looked at me with a faint
smile.

     "Well, of course it's not his Fault," my mother said finally, still
hesitating. She looked at my father. "Leo, what do you think?" My father
grunted.
     "He's eighteen years old. They'll do what they like anyway. As long as
you don't do it under my roof!" I shook no. "I'm going to be late for
work." And that was it. End of discussion. He kissed my mother good-bye and
and left. My mother still looked upset.
     "Mom?"
     "But what if you want children?" Charlie smiled.
     "Yeah, mom, I think that's not really an option anymore. Sorry." I
could see tears in her eyes.
     "Oh, no, I just want... I want what's best for you."
     "Well, this is me. This is a part of me. And the best thing for me now
is that boy." She looked at Charlie. He raised his hand.
     "Hi."
     "Yes, well," absently, she put her cup and knife on her empty plate,
"I should get ready for work too." She stood up and left the
room. Suddenly, for no particular reason, I was crying too. Charlie started
making himself a sandwich.
     "I think it went well," he said.
     "Yeah..."
     "Don't worry. They'll get used to it." He reached over the table for
my hand. Then, Cyrill came in from the kitchen. We both looked up.
     "Well, sorry, I got to eat..." She sat down next to Charlie and took
the cup and knife off her plate.
     "You were in the kitchen the whole time?"
     "I thought it was better not to interrupt," she said. I was
stunned. "Charlie's right. They'll get used to it. Oh, and I think it's
really good that you told them. Very brave."

     I didn't know what to say. They both smiled at me, like something
really great had happened. Perhaps something had. I didn't feel so great as
yet.