HELPLINE

TWENTY

TWENTY
HENRY

Up until the next morning, I'd been very good at not being nervous.

What was the point? I'd tell myself, everytime the niggling little thought that I would be visiting my dad (who had disowned me) with my boyfriend (which was basically the reason he disowned me in the first place: because I wanted a boyfriend, and not a girlfriend.)

Isaac barged - we'd long ago given up the idea of entering each others' house politely - in around nine-thirty, when I was still asleep; like, who even wakes up at nine-thirty on a sunday?

"Time to rise and shine," he called cheerfully from downstairs. "We leave in half an hour. And if you're not ready, I'll just go without you."

"Do you even know where my dad lives?" I asked blearily, rubbing my eyes and stumbling downstairs to meet him.

"No," he said brightly. "And go and put on a shirt on, you're making me horny."

If he was nervous, he was doing a damn good job of hiding it.

❄

Once we arrived, it was hard to remember leaving.

The huge, pastel-colour houses - parents with seven bedrooms for one kid - were the same. The almost as huge silver cars dominating all the driveways were the same. And most of all, the people were the same.

"Suburbia," Isaac whispered in awe.

"Don't get your hopes up," I said grimly, opening the door. "And you won't need to bother locking the car."

He did anyway.

I hurried up the pathway, Isaac in tow. I was just reaching for the doorbell when he grabbed my hand. "It'll be fine," he muttered, and I wondered if maybe he was more anxious than he was letting on.

"Yeah," ti said, exhaling slowly. "Fine."

He rang the doorbell instead.

"Are you expecting anyone, Samrita?" I heard my father's voice call, and a set of footsteps.

"He sounds exactly the same," I whispered to Isaac, as the door swung open.

He looked exactly the same too: same black suit and matching shoes, same side parting, same stern expression on his face. The only hint of any ageing was the slight peppering of silver in his hair, and the few wrinkles on his forehead.

"Can I help you?" he asked politely.

He didn't recognise me.

"Dad," I said, "it's me. Henry. Your son."

I had this sudden urge to add no shit, Sherlock at the end of my own statement, but I restrained myself, because my dad did look kind of shocked. Plus, he'd always hated swearing and I figured that now that we were here we might as well talk to him.

"Richard, who is it?" my mother called.

"come and take a look," he replied. "You'll never guess."

❄

This is possibly the most awkward lunch I've ever endured in my life. and I've endured some awkard lunches.

Mum didn't really seem to know how to react. She went in for a hug, but then pulled away last second and tried to pull it off as swatting a fly.

Not very well, I might add.

Dad hasn't stopped frowning for the last twenty minutes, and a big vein is sticking out on his forehead. I think he's trying to channel his anger into drinking tea, which he's doing very aggressively.

Everyone seems to have forgotten about Isaac, who looks even more awkward than me, and is eating a mini cucumber sandwich.

Isaac. Cucumber.

I don't know if there's ever been a less appropriate way to think those thoughts, but i'm thinking them.

Dying horses dying horses dying horses

"So, Henry," my mother says between sips of tea, "Who's this?"

Everyone turns to look at Isaac, who blushes and waves half-heartedly. "Hello, Mr and Mrs waters. I'm Isaac."

Dad nods at him. Mum seems to have run out of things to say.

"So," I  said. "is anyone else going to mention the elephant in the room, or shall i?"

Isaac stops eating his cucumber sandwich, and the last bite of it hovers halfway to his mouth. Dad chokes on his tea, and Mum chokes out a piece of red velvet cupcake.

They've always been good, her red velvet cupcakes.

"It's not a big deal, me being gay," I told Mum and Dad, in the calmest voice I could muster. "There are thousands and thousands and thousands of gay people in the world. And bisexual people and asexual people and pansexuals -"

Dad looks a bit sick at this point, so I decide to move on. We can work on that bit later. "It doesn't make me a bad person. It just means that if you do get grandchildren, they'll be adopted."

Mum looks over at Dad, who is looking slightly less murderous. There is a short pause, and then he says: "go on" so I do.

"I understand it might take you a while to come to terms with it, but it's not like I can change my mind and decide to be straight."

"exactly," Isaac piped up.

Mum shoots him a look, but not an unkind one.

"And you're my family," I said. "I need you." because I'd just realised that i really did.

"Henry," Dad said, and for the first time in years, there is tenderness in his voice.

"Get out."

❄

"W-what?" I said blankly, as Dad shuffled me to the door. "Why?"

I looked over at mum, but she was rooted to the spot, and looked as if she didn't have a clue what was going on.

"Just leave," Dad said, pushing me into the hall. "You, too," he said, motioning at Isaac.

"Mr Waters -"

"Shut up," Dad snapped, "Just leave. Before anyone sees you."

"Please -"

"Get out of my house!" Dad roared. "And don't come back!"

Then he slammed the door in our faces.

❄

a.n: shit's goin down man
(for julia because she reads my stories??? and she's amAZIng??!!)
edited 14/12/15