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When I finally pluck up the courage to return to the cabin I find my dad alone on the porch.

I sit next to him and he doesn’t speak. Neither do I.

I’ve spent the last few hours walking along the beach, trying to find the words, but I’ve just drawn a blank.

I’ve run through a dozen scenarios in my head, each one getting worse.

Eventually the torture of not knowing what they thought was too much, and I decided I needed to find that out, even if they cast me out.

The silence stretches for several minutes, and I think that I might just blurt something out, anything at all, when he breaks it.

“I don’t feel I know you anymore, son.”

That he calls me son instead of Baby is monumental, and I look at him. He’s just staring out across the resort, sadness etched on his face .

“I can’t change who I am. I’ve tried to deny it for too long.”

He doesn’t respond.

“I’ve kept who I am bottled up for years, and it’s been eating me up from the inside. I’m sorry you found out this way, it was never my intention to do that.”

He remains still, not even turning his head to look at me.

“I’m sorry I lied to you about the money, but I wanted to help.

All I’ve ever wanted is to be like you, to help other people who need it.

But that’s not true, is it? You help those who are like you, those who, due to some social code, you think are worthy.

I know I’ve disappointed you, but you’ve disappointed me too, Dad.

I thought you treated everyone equally, but I was wrong. ”

I finish and he stays statue-like. I’m not sure if he’s even heard me. I have nothing left to say, and I can’t face my mum and sister right now, so I leave and walk away.