The Things That I Know || George Michael

eighteen - doing fantastic

"Hey, Kieran!"

Kieran looks up from his lunch tray, to see Esme looking directly at him from the other side of the school dinner hall. He spots that she has her dolls from home — on this particular occasion, she has two male dolls; one in each hand. She laughs disparagingly as she pushes the two dolls' faces together, simulating a kiss.

"Look, Kieran! It's your daddies! Look how gross it is!"

"Shut up, Esme," Kieran calls back across the room. "They're not gross."

"Yeah they are!" Esme retorts, bashing the two plastic figures together harshly; the action produces a grating thudding sound. "Mummy said they should be sent to jail!"

"Is that true, Esme?" one girl, Sarah, asks. "When two guys love each other, or two girls, is that really bad?"

"Yeah it is!" Esme spits, poking her tongue out at Kieran. "You need a mummy and a daddy, Kieran! Not two dads."

"That's not true." By now, Kieran is already weary of the snide comments the girl is making about his doting parents. He chooses not to argue anymore; instead resorting to eating his lunch as she continues to hurl abuse about George and Levi. He admittedly feels hurt by the words she is saying, but his logic dictates that he should not tell his parents for fear of them becoming upset, too. The last thing he wants is to upset them.

• • •

"And you're sure there's been no comments? No bullying?" George interrogates Mrs Hall sternly after school. "Because forgive me, Mrs Hall, but I adore my son beyond words ... and I won't hesitate to take further action if I find out she's still at it."

"I can assure you, Mr Panayiotou-Jones, Esme has not said anything to Kieran about you or your husband while I've been in earshot," Mrs Hall assures him. "Of course, I can't speak for break and lunch time, as he's out on the playground during those times. But the comments certainly don't occur in my classroom."

"Kieran?" George glances down at his son. "Esme hasn't said anything nasty to you since the first time, has she?"

To avoid hassle and drama, the boy simply shakes his head. "No, Daddy."

"Good." George lifts his head back up, diverting his attention back to the teacher. "Let's hope it stays that way, shall we?"

"You have my word, that if I hear anything else, I'll be sure to let you know."

"Thank you." George takes his son's small hand in his own larger one. "Come on then, Kieran. Let's be getting you home, shall we?"

"Where's Gem?" Kieran quizzes. "Isn't Daddy going to get her today?"

"Daddy's gone to see the doctor," George explains. "Gem will be here in a minute. She's going to be walking to us from her classroom."

"Why has Daddy gone to see the doctors? Is he poorly?"

"Well, kind of. But he will be fine, I promise." George heaves a soft sigh, unsure of how to explain the concept of therapy to Kieran. It surely wouldn't make sense, for such a young boy: the idea of talking about your problems to make you feel better. "Oh, there's Gem. She's coming, now."

"Hi Daddy!" Gemma beams, as she runs towards her father to greet him.

"Hello, darling," George returns, pressing his lips to her forehead in a gentle kiss. "How was school?"

"It was good!" she answers happily, adjusting the strap for the school bag on her shoulder. "We did times tables again; and we had a competition in class to see who knows them best, and I won!"