The Things That I Know || George Michael

thirty-eight - what life is about

To say George is bewildered would be beyond an understatement. He examines this strange lady more intently. "Sorry?"

"I know it sounds crazy." Birdie pushes the photograph into George's hand, forcing him to keep hold of it. "I know you probably don't believe me. But if you'd just let me explain, I can—"

"You'd better come inside." George widens the gap in the door, allowing her to enter the house. All colour has drained from his face by now; he hopes there's a valid justification for this woman's sudden arrival.

Birdie enters the living room, where Levi is still sat contemplating solutions to the crossword. He spots the lady in his peripheral vision, glancing upwards. "Alright, darling?"

"Hello," she greets awkwardly. "Um, my name is Bernice. B-But call me Birdie."

"Hello, Birdie." Levi notices George re-entering the room, so he looks to his husband for some context. "Um, I wasn't expecting a visitor this evening, George."

"Neither was I." George gestures with his hand for the woman to take a seat. "Wherever you'd like, Birdie."

"Thank you." She sits herself down on an armchair, a reasonable distance from George and Levi. "So, you probably have a lot of questions for me, now."

"You're not kidding." George leans forward in his chair, silently observing the subtle similarities in physical features between himself and this stranger. "But I think the most logical start, would be an explanation of how you came to exist."

"Okay." She nods, her eyes moving to the ground. "I don't exactly like to admit it, but I wasn't planned. Well, obviously — otherwise, you'd know about it."

"Go on," George encourages.

"The woman in the photo with you ... her name is Annie. Does that name ring any bells?"

George's brows furrow, as he recalls his memory. "Yes, it does, actually."

"She's my mother. She told me you both had a brief fling in about nineteen-eighty-one. My mum's mother — my grandmother — do you remember her?"

"I do. Mary?" George asks.

"Yes. She took the photo, Mum said. Apparently, my grandmother believed that you would marry Mum, because you seemed so sweet together. But Mum said you cut contact with her before she found out she was pregnant with me."

"It was a meaningless fling," George says. "It would never have been a real relationship. And we always protected ourselves — that's why you weren't planned. We would have been kids, maybe eighteen years old, Birdie."

"Mum said she was devastated when you ran off. She never knew the reason why, and she blamed herself all those years. She died, to cancer, a few years ago. I've gone without a parent for all that time. I just knew I needed to find out who my father was ... so I could find the answers, when she couldn't."

"I never had proper relationships with girls because I was gay," George explains. "The only proper relationship I had before my husband was a woman when I was twenty-one. And even that only lasted two years. It wasn't a personal thing to your mother."

"Okay. At least I know, now." Birdie's eyes soften, as she heaves a gentle sigh. "I'm sorry for bothering you tonight. I'll leave you to it."

She stands herself up, preparing to make a beeline for the front door once again. Before she can get very far, George speaks up.

"Wait, Birdie." His words earn her attention, so he carries on talking. "I-I can't lie — I'm just as confused as you are, right now. But I'm willing to work with you on this ... as long as you're willing to work with me, too."