Since Benjamin moved back in with his father, it seemed like everything had gone back to normal in our house. Mum would come home late and would bring a bag of yum-cha. Dad still sat on his arse watching Studio 10 all day. Rachel sat in her room, devouring people on social media and I was happy as Larry just being a part of it.
Tonight, we were all parked in front of the telly watching Q&A and I was watching Dad’s blood actually boil as the show went on. I was never fully in the loop about what the hell they were actually jabbering on about half the time, but it appeared like they are worried about new people arriving to the country by boat, and I don’t think they meant the ones that dock into Sydney harbour and are featured on Getaway. Now they were having a discussion about gay marriage.
“Mum?” I said
“Yes, Love?” she said, seeming glad I was engaging in the show.
“Why don’t you and Dad know any gay people?”
They both looked at each other stunned about the question.
Dad responded first. “There was a guy at me call centre who was gay. Or at least I think he was; it would explain all the David Beckham posters he had on his desk.”
Mum giggled and so did I, but I’m not sure why. Did Dad think soccer was something gay people did or something?
Mum stepped in to correct the record.
“A few of the guys I went through uni with were gay, but back then it wasn’t acceptable. People were afraid of homosexual people.”
“Why?” I said. Did they have some kind of evil superpowers or something?
Dad now put in his two cents. “People are afraid of things they don’t understand, or know anything about.”
“Is that like how you’re afraid of those people coming in by boat?”
Everyone paused and looked at Dad, knowing full well that I’d outsmarted him and called him out. “He’s got you there, hun,” Mum said with a smirk that was pretty much a non-physical way of giving me a high five.
Dad now seemed pretty eager to change the subject, which showed as he then asked me something about school which was a topic he usually liked to pass by quick smart!
“All excited for the athletics carnival tomorrow?” Mum rolled her eyes and smiled knowing full well he was trying to come up with any excuse not to respond to my question.
“Yeah, Benjamin and I have put in some hard yards setting up for it.”
“Competing in any races?” Now it was getting embarrassing how much he was pretending to care.
“Nah, maybe just in the three-legged race or tug-of-war.” I couldn’t run to save my life; even though I was skinnier than an old scarecrow I could barely muster the strength to run a mile.
“And how is that Miss Walker going? She’s a gay person we know I suppose, ha-ha.”
I wouldn’t go so far as to say that she and Dad ever hang out, so claiming her as a gay person he had on speed dial was a bit of a long bow to draw.
“She’s good. Her partner, or wife I guess is really nice too.” I immediately realised they weren’t supposed to know we met them at the bowling alley and snuck out that night.
“A few of the kids at school are saying stuff about her though. And me,” I said to distract them. And it did. Mum and Dad immediately perked up in their seats with fury.
“What are they saying, love?” Mum said which was trumped by Dad’s roaring,
“Who’s been bloody spouting stuff at you, Riley!?” his was more of a demand than a question. I suddenly felt like either confessing everything or peeing my pants, although given I was still in my school skirt there were less barriers than when I used to wear shorts…
“Oh, nothing. Forget I said anything.” Knowing full well that wouldn’t be enough to fend them off.
“Riley, who’s been saying stuff?” Dad wasn’t going to ask a third time without completely losing the plot, so I gave in. All I needed to say was one name, and it would say a thousand words. How did I get from having checkmated Dad watching Q&A to being forced into talking about school? Either way, it made no difference. I gave Dad the name: Scott McElroy.
Dad then went to the number one response in the parental handbook and thought to call up Scott’s father to tear him a new one. Mum was more reasonable and rational, responding more like a psychologist than as a mother. They were both talking over one another at me, Dad just yelling like a loony street preacher and Mum giving me instructions on strategies to resolve conflict. And so I thought to myself that I’d do something I felt like I hadn’t done in ages.
“Guys, I have a big day tomorrow. I’m going to bed.” And though they weren’t quite finished for the night, I definitely knew I was.