Queer as Muke

1.15.7 The Ties That Bind

Michael walks up the drive slowly, his shoes making a tapping sound as he approaches. Moonlight reflects on the few puddles left by the rain earlier in the day and he steels himself as he steps over them, never taking his eyes off the man moving around the well lit garage.

Pausing by the open roller door he watches as his father huffs and chuffs as he heaves a cardboard box off one pile and places it on another, until he catches sight of Michael standing, half in the light and half in the gloom of the night.

"Hey, your Mum's in the kitchen, get yourself a cup of coffee and get me a refill would you?" Darryl asks, indicating a mug standing on yet another cardboard box in the corner of the garage, presuming that his son is here to visit his wife. An unusual occurrance definitely, but not one completely out of the realms of possibility.

"I'm not here to see her actually," Michael tells him, digging his hands deeper into the pockets of his coat. The late Winter chill of August is still in full flow and the garage is freezing. "Shouldn't you be taking it easy?" He asks, as his father leans rather heavily on one packing box, wheezing audibly.

"I'll have plenty of time to take it easy," Darryl tells him stubbornly, heaving up another box. "There's years of stuff out here, I want to get everything in order. Wait 'til you see this Sonny Boy! Ta daa!" He throws a large black bowling ball to Michael who catches it easily.

Michael inspects the ball, "What was that team you used to bowl with?"

"Western Kings! You used to come with me when you were what? Eight? Nine? You remember that? I always hoped you'd take it up!"

Michael nods, remembering, then places the ball carefully back in the box it came from. "Listen, about the other night..."

"I know. I should have called before I dropped in. Like the little wife says, that's what they make telephones for! Oh fuck!"

Darryl would have dropped the box had Michael not sprung into action. "I got it," he tells his father, hefting the weight of the box in his hands, waiting for him to tell him where to put it. "We need to talk," Michael says, after he's deposited the box, turning to his father to look at him fully for the first time since arriving.

"You know I think that's the first time I've heard you say that!" Darryl says, still joking around.

"Well that's probably the first time I ever have," Michael tells him seriously. "I just thought that we could, er..."

"Sneak it under the wire huh? Oh wait, I've got some books here for you!" Darryl hurries to one of the boxes and rummages around.

"I'm gay."

Michael just says it. No warning. No fanfare. Just how it is. Knowing that his father will keep stalling a proper conversation until it never happens.

He knows Darryl has heard him when the rummaging stops and silence floods the gap between the two men. Darryl turns around, looking at his son as Michael looks defiantly back, silently challenging his father, waiting for him to come back with a slick, derogatory remark like he would do when Michael didn't score as well on a test as he thought he should have.

Michael's also ready for a fist, waiting for his father to lash out, knowing full well his views on homosexuals from years ago when he still lived at home. Michael was well used to his father's fists, and his bigotry, as he was growing up.

"You picked a hell of a time to tell me you're a fairy," Darryl says eventually, his voice rough. "As if I don't have enough to deal with. Jesus! You're the one that should be dying instead of me!"

Michael grabs the front of his father's coat and raises a fist ready to strike. He shoves his father backwards, taking pleasure in the fear showing in Darryl's eyes. Swinging his fist he punches one of the top boxes clear off the pile instead of breaking his father's nose in two like he really wants to do.