Whore.

Chapter 20: Amber

Bradley was staring, waiting for his answer. I saw Swash shift nervously in his seat. His face was such a mix of emotions, I couldn't translate them all. There was hurt, anger, shock, disappointment and a few other things melted into each other. My own chest felt knotted, and I couldn't say anything. The entire situation was way too awkward. Swash was probably dying of embarrassment inside. I remembered when my parents had attempted to have 'the talk' with me when I was 13. They had walked in on me masturbating. It was my fault really; I did not lock the bathroom door. The entire situation was too weird, with my blushing mother and doleful father and snickering brother. I didn't have the heart to tell them that I knew all that stuff when I was 10, so I just let the wave ride out. Swash was looking nervously at me. Maybe I could save the situation. It was never easy being the parent.

"'Faggot' isn't a very nice word Bradley."
"I thought so. But I still don't know what it means."
"Well, in the past," I said, walking to him and crouching so we were at eye level. "I'm sure it was some sort of British meal. Maybe a sandwich of some kind, I can't really remember. There are a few other meanings, I'm sure. But right now, it's a bad word used to refer to people who are gay."

He frowned a little as if I had said something wrong. I raised my eyebrows at him. His gaze intensified.

"What's 'gay'?"
Bloody hell. Why did I open the can of worms?
"Gay is when you have feelings for another boy. Like...romantic feelings." I struggled to find the right words. He'll probably ask what 'romantic' was next. This wasn't going to be easy.
"Is my Mum gay? She has feelings for Dad, right?"
"No," I breathed out. "Gay is when someone like Dad has feelings for another guy, like Mum has feelings for Dad. Mum's a girl, Dad's a guy. But when a guy has those feelings for another guy, he's gay."
"Oh." He stopped and looked at me blankly. I wasn't sure if anything I had just blathered made any sense to him. His eyes sparked as he readied another question.

"Are you gay, Michael?"
"Yes." I said it so bluntly I surprised myself. Maybe it was because I wasn't embarrassed about being gay. Hell, I was a whore.
"I like you. Am I gay too?"

I felt my face flush. Oh jeez, this was getting complicated. I looked at Swash and his eyes were wide as saucers. I looked back at Bradley.

"Do you like me the way Mum likes Dad, or the way you like your friends?"

He seemed to think for a moment. His expression normalized.

"I'm not gay."

I smiled at his power of deduction. I had been so busy trying to break down the information to baby chunks; I'd forgotten I was talking to Bradley, the NatGeo-watching four-year-old. He smiled at me as if to thank me and walked back towards the TV. He almost got to his bean bag when Swash spoke up.

"Brad?"

Bradley turned around and raised his eyebrows. That move was so Swash and I wanted to laugh, but I held it in.

"Who told you that word?" Swash looked a little angry. Maybe it was at the homophobia spread around his son or maybe the word just irritated him. Or both.

"Dad used to say it. And Tracy Beedham."

Swash and I scowled at the same time. I realized it was probably for different reasons. Tracy Beedham. So Mr. Beedham had been talking to his daughter. I'm sure he forgot to add the part where he fucked me during work hours. But I wondered why she said it to Bradley when she had never seen us together. Swash looked like he wanted to burst out of his skin. His gaze was still fixed on Bradley, who had resumed watching TV. I walked over to him and held his hand. I'm still not sure why I did these things. Maybe I just wanted him to stop frowning so much. Ever since that time in the locker room, his angry gaze scared me more than anything else. He blinked twice and looked at me, surprised.