Traditions

by Mark Peters

Chapter 15

Dinner was noisy, as it always seemed to be when the entire family was together.

We all shared prawns and fillets of fish cooked on the barbeque, wrapped up in aluminium foil, with butter and sliced lemon and garlic. And Nan made her old favourite, her Tuna Mornay. It was all served with lashings of hot vegetables, which were most welcome considering the day was overcast and cool.

Laughter crept back in, tentative at first, but then much freer, as old stories began to surface – some perhaps softened by time, while others became embellished, or had grown in stature to the point where their veracity may even be questionable.

In any case, the entertainment value was immense, and the sound of Patrick's laughter was infectious.

Pippa thrived in the chaos, bouncing between conversations, almost triumphant, which was forgivable, seeing as she was the architect of this entire production.

Kevin loosened up too, eventually. Later, he and Patrick and I found ourselves side by side at the sink, drying dishes.

'You were so brave,' Kevin said, eyes still on the plate in his hands.

Patrick smiled faintly. 'I didn't feel very brave. I just felt . . . I don't know . . . like escape was necessary. Sometimes we just have to take a leap of faith.'

Kevin nodded. That made sense to him. I know it made sense to me.

When we had finished the washing up, we rejoined our families, most of whom were now out on the back verandah. Charlie leaned against the railing beside me and I hung an arm around his shoulders, an act that seemed unthinkable not that long ago, and which now barely raised an eyebrow.

Patrick smiling at us and quietly raising his glass towards the two of us filled me with joy, and also a sense of something I couldn't quite name. Hope, maybe? Or confirmation, perhaps, that no matter how bad we might think that things are, we can still come out of it the other side. The boy beside me and the man who had just come back into our family, were both confirmation of this.

'So, my dear cousins,' Patrick said, 'are you going to come to my show here next month?'

'What show?' Aunt Trish asked.

'Our drag show, of course! I've made a booking at the local Services Club. I filled this lot in about it yesterday. . . some of my friends from Sydney have been wanting to spread a little cheer and thought we should bring our show to some country areas, so this seems like as good a place to start as any.'

I think Uncle Leo almost choked on the beer he had been swallowing at the time, but managed to regain his composure after a few coughs and splutters. My father had a little chuckle at the idea. I thought Pop was going to fall off his stool he was laughing so hard, while Nan and mum and Aunt Trish all looked like were stuck for words.

'I'll be there!' Pippa gushed.

'And you can count us in,' I responded.

'There you go, Patrick! That's three tickets sold!' my father teased.

'Oh no . . . these will be freebies . . . but I still think I'll need to make them work for it!' Patrick replied.

'Oh, this'll be good,' Pop joked.

'And what about you, Pop? You ever seen a drag show before?' asked Kevin.

'Grandson, you would be surprised at what I saw back when I was in the Navy!' Pop answered.

Patrick left the following day, to return to Sydney, so Charlie and I drove back to Macquarie Harbour to see him off, making sure we managed to be there early, well before he left.

We all enjoyed breakfast at Trish and Leo's house, then there were hugs all round again. Promises were made. A sense that families didn't need to be perfect to be real , and that even when you have doubts and insecurities, there was always a way forward. Patrick was living evidence of that.

As the car disappeared down the road, Charlie slipped his hand into mine.

'This,' he said, gesturing back toward the house, the family, the life waiting inside, 'this feels like a future now.'

I squeezed his hand. 'Yeah, it does. And we're doing okay.'

He leaned into me, steady and sure.

'Yeah, I think we are,' he replied.

And for the first time in a long while, what comes next didn't feel like something scary or dangerous. It felt like a new beginning – a reinforcement of what the last few months had shown us – and I don't think that we were the only ones feeling that way.

When I looked over at Kevin, watching him watch Patrick drive away, there was something about him that seemed different, which I couldn't quite put a finger on. I made a note to ask him later if he was okay, if I could manage to talk to him alone at some point.

Charlie and I said goodbye to the others a short while later, to head downtown to do some shopping. Kevin came out to the car to see us off.

'You alright?' I asked casually.

Kevin shrugged. 'Yeah. Just tired. It's been a big couple of days.'

I looked at him closely. I wasn't prying, just seeing . And I could see that something was on his mind.

'You know,' I said after a moment, 'you don't have to have everything figured out. And you especially don't have to figure things out on your own.'

Kevin snorted. 'Since when?'

I smiled faintly. 'Since always. You just pretend that you do . . . have things figured out, I mean, but I can see that you have something on your mind.'

That landed closer than Kevin liked. He gave a huff.

'You ever want to talk, you know where to find us,' I responded, then I hugged him.

The hug seemed to last just a few moments longer than any other, almost as if Kevin wasn't wanting to let go, but he did, and then stepped back, looking somewhat sheepish.

'Call me if you need to,' I said to him. 'Or better still, come visit. You're always welcome.'

'Thanks,' he replied. 'I'll call you.'

With a nod, I stepped into the car, and Charlie fired it up. Kevin stood watching us until we disappeared around the corner, and it was only then that Charlie spoke up.

'Something's up, eh?'

'You noticed too, then?'

'Yeah. Something is on his mind . . . and it all stems from Patrick . . . what do you think is on his mind?'

'I really don't know. But I told him to call or visit if he wants to talk. Can't do too much more than that . . . for now, anyhow.'

'Agreed,' Charlie replied.

'Anyhow, now that Patrick has gone home, I guess we had best get back to our dreary lives and get our shopping done before we go home. We'll see him again when he comes back for his shows, I guess.'

'I guess,' Charlie replied. 'Though I don't think our lives are dreary.'

'No?' I asked.

'Quite the contrary . . . I don't think my life has ever been this exciting,' he replied. 'Sure as hell, there's never been so much happening as there is now . . . so much change, you know?'

'Yeah, I think I do know, babe.'

'I'm excited by what is ahead of us . . . and maybe just a little scared . . . but mostly excited.'

'I feel the same way, Cha-Cha. I feel the same way.'

He grimaced slightly at my use of his old nickname, but then he laughed.

'Whatever you say, K-bear,' he said, before then going quiet and looking at me with a soft expression, with his eyes blinking a couple of times.

'What?' I asked him, knowing that he was about to say something.

'I'm not sure if I've ever told you how much I love you, Kieran ???' he said, with all seriousness.

'Well, it can't be anywhere near as much as I love you, Charlie Holley,' I replied.

'What do you say we skip the shopping and go straight home?' he suggested. 'There's something I want to show you.'

'Show me?'

'Yeah . . . even if I know you've seen it before,' he grinned.

It was only about half an hour later when we finally arrived back at Charlie's house in Thompsonville . . . home, I guess I should be calling it now. That was a name that was finally beginning to have a nice ring to it, I felt. A name that was finally beginning to settle.

When we went to bed, it wasn't rushed or charged. It was simply beautiful. Afterwards, we lay side by side, Charlie lying against me, his head on my shoulder, an arm draped over my chest, the steady rise and fall of his chest pushing gently against me each time. Outside, the afternoon passed and the night began to press softly against the windows, familiar and calm.

'Hey,' Charlie murmured.

'Mmm?'

'Thank you.'

'What for?'

'For staying. For showing me a world I never knew could exist.'

I pressed a kiss into his hair. 'I'm not going anywhere. And you already knew it existed . . . you just needed to believe.'

'Yeah . . . I guess I did . . .'

Sleep came easily this time. Not because everything was fixed, but because everything was right. And that, I realised, was what home was starting to feel like.

The following day Charlie was working the afternoon shift again, and I was at the house working on some changes in the garage, as I continued setting up my workshop and office area. It was a work in progress, but also a labour of love. I was very much enjoying getting my hands dirty and finally doing something for me , rather than for somebody else. After hearing a vehicle pull up out on the road, I looked up a few moments later and was mildly surprised when I noticed Kevin coming through the front gate, looking like summer in board shorts, thongs on his feet, a loose-fitting tank top and sunglasses. If it wasn't for the fact that he was a relative, that I was happily partnered, and that he was straight – as far as I knew, anyhow – I quite probably would have had some impure thoughts about the hot guy coming towards me.

'Hey,' he said, as he propped himself against the garage door. 'You look like you're busy.'

'Yeah, something like that. What's happening?'

He simply shrugged. 'Not much. Felt like getting out of the town and going for a drive, and somehow ended up here.'

Suddenly I was getting the same vibes I'd received yesterday. There was definitely something on his mind. We may not have always been super-close, but I'd seen enough of him over the years to think of him as being a solid kind of guy, t he sort of bloke who knew who he was and didn't waste time second-guessing it. As far as I knew, he liked girls. He liked sport, the banter of mates, the comfort of knowing where he stood in a room.

Lately, though, I had the impression that rooms felt different to him.

'Fancy a cold drink? No beers or anything, I'm afraid. You'll have to settle for a Coke.'

'Sounds good. Thanks.'

He stayed in the garage, looking around at things, while I went through to the kitchen and retrieved a couple of cans from the refrigerator. When I returned, I found him looking at some of the computer bits and pieces I had hanging on a peg board as stock items; cables, USB devices and the like.

I handed him a can and we stepped outside, where we sat on the raised edge of the garden, side by side, our shoulders brushing on occasion. Sharing a look that needed no explanation.

'Are you okay?' I asked him, after we'd both taken a sip.

'Is it that obvious?' he asked.

'Well, not . . . obvious . . . but I can tell you have something on your mind. I kind of sensed it yesterday . . . that's why I told you to call, or come pay us a visit. So, what's up?'

'Hmmppff . . . that's just it . . . I'm not really sure . . .' he answered, before then taking another sip.

'Girl trouble?' I prompted.

'Funny man!' he scoffed.

'Guy trouble, then?' I suggested, knowing that I was really going out on a limb here.

He shot me a sideways glance at that, but said nothing.

Shit!

I didn't push him. I just let him breathe. And think, knowing that when he was good and ready he might talk; he might open up, about whatever it was that was eating at him.

I took a couple of sips of my Coca-Cola and he did the same

'Do you remember at Christmas lunch,' he eventually offered, 'when Pop had teased you about finally settling down ? I think it was me who had laughed the loudest. Then when Pippa had dragged us all into discussions about drag shows and identity and expression , I'd rolled my eyes and made some crack about not being able to pull off heels.'

'Yeah, I remember that.'

'Everyone laughed. But no one pushed. That was the thing . . . no one ever seemed to push back. It's kind of like I built my whole life on that. On being agreeable. Normal. Safe.'

'So, what's wrong with that?'

'That's just it. Everything is wrong with that . . . and it wasn't until I saw Trinity performing at the Imperial that I realised that. It rattled me in a way I just haven't been able to quite shake.

'Not because of the glamour, or the performance – as impressive as that had been – but . . . but because of the confidence. The pure, unapologetic way Patrick had just been . . . himself! No flinching. No uncertainty. Just, I dunno, like he's just saying "take me as I am, baby!" '

'Ha! Yeah, he's a bit like that, isn't he?'

'Yeah, he is. And then . . . there's you . . .'

'What? What the fuck have I got to do with it?' I asked.

Kevin looked over at me and simply smiled, then said, 'Quite a bit, actually. Now tell me, why did you say guy trouble a minute ago?'

'Dunno, just clutching at straws I guess . . . I just knew there was something eating at you. I'm right, aren't I?'

'I guess.'

'Meaning?'

'I don't know, really. I guess I've always thought of myself as a typical straight guy. You know, into sports, mates, having the odd beer . . . one of the lads.'

'But now?' I asked.

'Now? Now, I think I'm just having trouble reconciling that with the fact that right at this moment, the two people in this world who I admire the most are my two gay cousins! One who has just come out and is doing it all his own way, and the other . . . well, I don't think he gives a fuck about what anyone else thinks about him.'

'And . . .'

'And here's me . . . the kid who liked catching a glimpse of them as his mates headed for the showers, but feared getting caught, when we were in the locker rooms . . . or who liked the feeling of brushing shoulders or legs with my mates when sitting beside each other, and not wanting to move away . . .'

He stopped and looked at me then, as if waiting for a reaction, but I simply said, 'Go on!'

'I know I'm not the first, and damn sure I won't be the last . . . but . . .'

'But now there's someone who is on your mind?'

'Fuck, am I that transparent?'

'Maybe it's just my gaydar getting sharper?' I replied.

'Hmmppff!'

'So, what's the deal? Or who is the deal? Who is the someone who has your attention?'

He didn't answer straight away, instead getting to his feet and walking over to the nearby neighbour's fence, before then coming back and propping himself against a post of the carport that stood directly in front of the garage.

'It's more than just someone, ' he said. 'It's actually two someones.'

'Curiouser and curiouser,' I replied.

'I've been seeing this girl, on and off, for a while now. Her name is Ruth. Nothing too serious, we've fooled around a little . . . haven't actually had sex . . . but we're still in touch.'

'Go on,' I urged.

'But then, I bumped into an old friend from school last week, Nathan. I always suspected he swung towards the guys rather than the girls, and he even came onto me once. I told him then, politely of course, that I wasn't into that sort of thing and he backed off. No harm done, and we were still friendly . . . but now that I've seen him again, it just got me wondering . . .'

'Jesus! No wonder you seemed preoccupied,' I responded.

'So, what the fuck should I do? I keep having these thoughts . . . am I gay? Am I straight? Is it just curiosity? Just a passing phase?'

'And sometimes you lay awake at night tossing and turning . . . wondering what's wrong with me . . . and is there anyone else out there going through this . . . and . . .'

'Yeah, yeah, yeah . . . no need to keep reminding me!'

'That was me when I was about twelve,' I said. 'About the time I first realised I was really attracted to Charlie. The short answer is this . . . it doesn't matter whether you are or you aren't gay, or if you're just curious, or even if you're actually bisexual and want to experience both sides. What is important is that you are true to yourself. My bet is, you won't actually know what you really want until you have experienced both sides. Maybe you need to give this Nathan guy a call and ask if he wants to meet for a drink or something?'

'And if he says no?'

'There are plenty of fish in the sea, cuz!'

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Traditions

by Mark Peters

Chapter 15