Page 37

Coming Home

JUSTIN

I’m a nervous wreck as we pass through the familiar streets of my childhood. It’s just as well Axel is driving, because my hands are shaking so much, and I’m so distracted that I’d be a menace on the road. Not that I have my license yet. Just another thing I’ve fallen behind with because of being sent away for ‘re-education’. My actual education has suffered from my disappearance for at least four months of my final year, dammit! I’ll have to apply for special consideration, but even if I can somehow manage a pass, I won’t get the marks I need to enter Vet College. All in all, the year has been a total fuck-up. I'm putting on a confident front, but I’m nervous it’s about to get worse.

We pull up outside the neat suburban cottage in the middle-class street I’ve lived in all my life. I wait a minute before getting out of the car, taking in the familiar scene, absorbing the small details in case it’s the last time I come here. I still hold out a little hope, but it’s tenuous.

The Sweet Gum in the front yard is covered in the bright green of this year’s new leaves starting to shoot. I fell out of that tree when I was five, quickly dusting myself off and looking around in embarrassment to make sure no-one had seen.

The lawn is green, neat and trim, as always. I remember picnics in the front yard with my mother before I was sent off to school at six years old.

Camellia bushes still grow in the corner of the yard, leaves dark green and glossy but it's too late in the season and only a few battered blooms hide amongst the foliage. We buried my cat under there when he died of old age. I was ten at the time.

The flower bed along the front of the house is full of pansies and violas and other winter flowers. I planted my first daffodil bulbs there when I was twelve.

And there’s the spot where I accidentally rode my bicycle off the porch, the soft earth and crushed flowers softening my fall.

A sheen of tears fills my eyes, and I swipe it away. Axel rests his warm hand over mine, comforting and reassuring. He doesn’t say anything, just lets me feel the emotions churning inside me, while showing me I’m not alone.

Taking a deep breath, I turn to him.

“Okay, let’s do this.”

We get out and walk up the driveway together. Axel has brought wine and chocolate, just like he did to my grandparents’ house.

It’s only when we’re standing on the porch about to knock on the front door, that I realize we haven’t discussed something important.

“How do you want me to introduce you?” I ask Axel.

Axel shrugs.

“However you’re most comfortable,” he replies. “I don’t think it’s going to make much difference. They’ll probably guess in any case.”

“Okay. Here goes,” I mutter under my breath, steeling myself.

I knock.

The door opens.

It’s my mother, thank god, and she silently takes me in her arms and hugs me.

“Welcome home,” she says, brushing the hair off my face. I think I see a trace of moisture in her eyes, but then she turns to Axel and her eyes sharpen and narrow. There's nothing friendly in that look.

I pull away, and step back beside him.

“This is Axel,” I say. “My boyfriend.”

Lines appear around her mouth as her jaw clenches, and she doesn’t offer her hand.

"Hello, Mrs. McMillan," Axel behaves as if he hasn't noticed, but he has - his polite smile doesn't reach his eyes.

She barely acknowledges his greeting and I almost hear the resigned sigh that Axel doesn’t give, as he offers her the wine and chocolates he’s brought. For an awful minute I’m afraid she’s going to dash them from his hands, but civility wins out and she accepts them from him with a clipped thank you and motions for us to come in.

Axel and I exchange glances. This is not going well so far, but what did we expect?

In the lounge, my father is reading his newspaper. He scarcely looks up long enough to grunt, “Well, here you are finally.” He doesn’t get up.

“Dad, this is Axel,” I announce, pointedly.

He looks over the paper at us. “So I see,” he says before returning his attention to the paper.

I open my mouth to tell him to stop being rude, but I feel Axel's elbow jab me in the ribs and he shakes his head.

Don’t worry about it, he mouths.

We’ve only been here a few minutes and already it’s a disaster. How are we going to survive a whole day of this?

Fortunately, my mother comes into the room just then to announce lunch is ready and we head for the dining room in awkward silence. Axel’s hand brushes mine as we enter the room. I’m grateful for the brief touch. It reminds me I’m not on my own.

My mother asks us to sit, and hands my father the wine Axel brought.

“He brought it,” she says, nodding towards Axel.

My father puts the bottle aside.

“A bit early in the day for alcohol, don’t you think?”

Seriously? My family always include wine along with their meals when they entertain friends. This open hostility is doing my head in. If I wasn't so desperate to maintain a relationship with my parents, I'd already be out the door.

Axel shrugs. He looks composed and unbothered as he says politely, “It’s for whenever you want it, sir.”

My father just grunts and sits.

My mother leaves the room to fetch the lunch. I’d go with her except I’m afraid of what my father might say to Axel, so we just sit there in silence.

Once the lunch is served, conversation picks up a little. My mother asks what I’ve been doing and where I’ve been. The subject of my disappearance from the ReEducation Centre is not brought up, and it occurs to me that maybe my parents knew what they did was illegal, and don’t want to admit to something in front of a witness.

My father contributes slightly to conversation but there are frequent thinly-veiled barbs directed at gay men and Axel in particular. Axel smiles serenely through it and it’s obvious he expected this frosty reception. When I open my mouth to explode after one too many digs, Axel kicks me under the table and gives the slightest shake of his head, but I don’t know how much longer I can bite my tongue.

AXEL

Lunch has been torturous and it's a relief when it finishes and we move back to the lounge for coffee and cake. The cake makes conversation unnecessary and silence hangs heavy in the room. It's so quiet, you can hear everyone as they swallow.

Afterwards, Justin’s mother gets up.

“Excuse us, Axel,” she says, using my name for the first time. I'm immediately suspicious. “Justin and I need to talk about some things. Justin?” and she indicates he should follow her to the kitchen.

Justin looks uncertainly at me, but it’s fine. His father has parked himself behind his newspaper again, and I can occupy myself on my phone. When he sees that I’m okay here, Justin follows his mother out to the kitchen. I can hear the murmuring of voices out there, but I can’t make out any words. I hope he’s okay, but I have to trust he’ll come and get me if he’s not.

The visit has been awkward and uncomfortable. I can see how much Justin wants his family to accept him, and it’s been painful watching him reach the slow realization that they will never accept him as he is, nor anyone he chooses to bring home with him.