Working Through the Rest

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On New Year's Day, I ask dad if we can go on a walk together. The request sort of spills out and I spend the twenty minutes in between asking him and leaving the house debating whether now is a good time to come out to him.

I don't know what he's going to say, but telling him alone is better. Telling him when there are other people around, other things that could make him angry, isn't a good idea. I don't want him to be angry. I want him to be okay with it. But it's a change. It's a shock. And he normally reacts to shock with anger, because it's easiest.

I don't have to tell him. I could just say that I wanted to spend some time with him, because I do. But maybe he deserves to know. He's my dad. He cares about me. And we've both learnt from our mistakes after last time. Haven't we?

I don't manage to make a decision before we leave the house and, according to dad, I'm unusually quiet. I nod awkwardly, trying to smile. And we keep walking. Until we talk to the point where I feel vaguely at ease. At least, at ease enough to speak.
"Dad," I stop walking.
"Albus?"
"I wanted to," I pause, "I wanted to tell you something – I worked out. I just – I'm not really sure how..."
"It's okay," dad says gently. "Take your time."

I nod, taking a deep breath. What is the best way to go about this? I could have sworn that I've asked myself that question a hundred times already, but everything seems to be gone, so I'll have to work through it again.
"I think," I start slowly, "no, no, I know, I...I have a crush on someone."

The words tumble out of my mouth before logic can step in to catch me. Almost immediately, I see the tension disappear from dad's shoulders, as if he were preparing for the worst.

"That's fine, Albus," he smiles. "You look terrified. What's wrong?"
"I have a crush on Scorpius," I don't let my voice crack this time. "I'm gay."
"Oh," dad nods slowly. "Okay. Well, I'm sure it's not an issue if you are. We can help you."
"What do you mean? Are you okay with it?"

There's an awkward pause as I look hopefully at him, biting my lip. If he's just surprised, talking will help. It'll be fine. Everything will be fine. He's my dad. He loves me. He'll be able to look past it and see that I'm still me.

Except his next words bring me crashing down.

"Albus, I'm not sure that this is something that you can know just yet. You're only fifteen." "What is that supposed to mean?" "You're still very young to be knowing things about yourself."
"Would you have a problem if I had a crush on – oh, I don't know – Polly Chapman?" I snap.
"That's different–"
"How?" I snap, feeling the anger starting to snap within me. "Is it – is it because she's a girl and Scorpius is a boy?"
"Albus, this isn't normal," dad tries to be firm. "It's something that we can fix–"
"I don't need to be fixed. And it's more normal than you'd think."
"Albus..."

Maybe it's because I was so desperate for him to be okay with it. Maybe it's because I thought things were actually getting better between us. Maybe it's because we're too predisposed to a fight. But, for whatever reason, I find myself snapping again, near shouting.
"What is your problem with this?" I ask. "Why do you have a problem with me being – being gay?"

I shouldn't have let my temper fly so soon, and I shouldn't have hoped that he would take it as well as mum did. But I'm angry. I'm angry that he can't understand that I'm okay with this, finally.
"Does he – does Scorpius know?"
"No," I mutter. "No. I don't know whether I want to tell him or not."
"Because you're not sure?"
"Because I don't want to make our friendship awkward," I say firmly. "I am entirely fucking sure."
"Albus–"
"You told me that – whatever labels I was given, that you saw my heart – and you knew it was a good one. Please, please just try to keep seeing that." "Albus," dad is suddenly firm. "Albus, this is a phase. You're not gay. We didn't – we didn't raise you like that."

There is a silent as I step backwards, raising my eyebrows. At least I know that mum kept her promise. One positive in what appears to be a storm of anger. Mainly my anger and his fear.
"You didn't raise me like that?" I throw my arms out. "Okay. Okay. I guess mum missed that memo."

And then I'm walking backwards, walking away from him. And I'm starting to look up. Smiling.
"I'm gay!" I shout, almost scream. "I'm Albus Potter and I'm gay!"
"What are you–"
"I'm going home."
*

When I get home, mum is sitting in the kitchen and she tries to check if I'm okay. I don't respond, half-slamming my bedroom door and lying back on my bed.

I hate him. I actually fucking hate him.

Downstairs, the door shuts and I hear voices. I don't know what they're saying, but I can hear mum starting to get angrier, dad not even attempting to match her anger. When mum gets angry, there is no matching her.

But he doesn't relent. When I crack the door open, it is obvious that he still considers me a confused, probably attention-seeking teenager. Because I was finally happy with myself and actually felt able to say.