Chapter 26
“You’ve had worse in your mouth.”
Kelly urges me on, like I’m some kind of performing seal. Her friends, sitting around her lounge on couches and dining chairs, loudly cheer Take it, take it as I scan the eight remaining baby bottles, all filled with yellow liquid.
“Not a chance,” I say, my arms crossed like a petulant teenager.
It was embarrassing enough playing pin the sperm on the womb in front of my mum. She’s still sitting there with her arms crossed, unimpressed by all these games that Kate, Kelly’s friend, arranged for the baby shower.
Sometimes I wonder if my mum wishes she’d had dogs instead of children.
Sometimes I wish she did.
The egging on gets louder and my ears start to ring.
“All right,” I say, shaking my head and reluctantly picking up one of the bottles, wanting this all to be over. Drink it. Drink it, the women chant in unison. I turn my back to them, hold the bottle to my mouth, close my eyes, and squeeze the teat with my teeth.
The sweet taste of apple juice hits my tongue, and I immediately fight back a smile. If I’m going to have to sit through all of this, I might as well make it entertaining.
I turn, pull a disgusted face, which has all the women laughing at my perceived misfortune, and then grab the teat between my finger and thumb, aiming it toward my sister. The apple juice shoots out in a straight line, hitting her champagne-pink Mummy To Be sash.
The room erupts into screams and shrills, everyone’s face a combination of shock and nausea, as Kelly dry retches.
My mum reaches over and whacks my arm.
“Stop being so childish, Christopher.”
She shakes her head and gets up to help Kelly take off the sash.
“Come on, it’s only apple juice.” I shake my head at their disapproving looks.
Ugh.
I wish I’d gone with Daniel and his mates for Christmas Eve drinks.
All this baby shower malarkey is making me sick to my stomach.
“They all are.” Kate finally says, leaving the room for the kitchen once the commotion dies down. Her face is filled with contempt, because that means the games, the organized fun, is now over.
Organized fun?
More like organized torture.
Kate returns to the lounge, cake in hand, and Kelly rearranges the food spread out on the table, so it can be put down. Everyone gets up and heads to the table.
“Right,” Kate announces. “Who’s ready to find out the gender of the baby?”
Everyone cheers and whips out their cameras as I feel my eyes roll back into my head, in search of a fuck I am desperately trying to give.
Why Kelly needs to do this, when she’s known since she visited me back in LA in August, is beyond me.
But I guess that’s what everyone does these days. It’s content for their socials.
Kelly grabs the knife, looks at me, and gives me a wink. It’s the same wink she always gives just before she’s about to do something crazy. She holds up the knife and instead of gently cutting a slice, she hacks into the cake, like a scene out of a horror movie. Blue sponge flies everywhere.
“It’s a boy!” Kelly says, giving a masterful look of surprise.
Everyone shoves their camera toward the unfortunate confection and then at Kelly, while Kate attempts to rescue the cake and cuts it into slices.
“But what if they decide they want to be nonbinary?” I ask.
“Christoper.” My mum whacks my arm, her face awash with fury. “Will you leave off with all that nonbinary bullshit.”
Kelly cuts me a look to stop me from engaging in a tetchy back-and-forth. The words still linger on the tip of my tongue. If my mum were nonbinary, she would identify as Danger. Her pronouns would be try/me.
I just wish that for once my mum would broaden her narrow views.
Her actions and outlook on life have always left me feeling let down and disappointed that she won’t change her perspective.
I keep clinging to the false hope that she will wake up one day and be more accepting of those who don’t conform to the heteronormative way that society has been constructed over the last millennia.
But the best she’s been able to muster since I came out is that she can just about tolerate me being gay as long as I don’t rub her face in it. No wonder I’m so fucked up.
A homophobic dad, who died the day I came out.
A homophobic mother, who can just about tolerate me.
“Mum, leave him alone.” Kelly’s firm tone puts an immediate end to any further attempts to chastise me. Kelly nods toward the door as Kate hands out slices of cake to the rest of the women in the room.
Thank God I have at least one family member who’s supportive of the community. I edge around the cluster of women and meet Kelly in the kitchen.
“Do you always have to try and get a rise out of her?”
Kelly laughs half-heartedly and grabs a bottle of elderflower cordial.
“You know it’s too hard for me not to say something. To poke the bear.”
“Maybe you could lay off of her a little bit, just for the next couple of days.” Kelly’s voice softens, the way it does whenever she wants something. “For the baby.” She rubs her bump.
Right, cause I’m the one that always has to compromise.
“Are you going to weaponize him every time you want something from me?” My gaze is drawn to her belly button, poking outward against her green maxi-dress.
Kelly moans and grabs the kitchen counter.
“What’s wrong?” My heart jumps into my throat.
“He’s kicking again. Right on my bladder.”
Kelly winces while she breathes through the pain.
“He’s taking the piss,” I say, unable to resist a shot at a cheap joke as I help her over to the chair by the window. The sky outside is already dark at 5 p.m.
“It’s not funny.” Kelly stifles a laugh as she sits. “Here.” She grabs my hand and places it on her belly. “Can you feel it?”
I finally feel a push against my hand when I lower it to the bottom of her belly, and I light up like the Christmas tree out the window in the house opposite.
“I still can’t believe you’re going to be a mother.”
My little sister.
A full-grown adult. With a husband, a house, and now a baby on the way. A swirl of pride washes over me, even greater than when I watched her walk across the stage at her graduation to collect her degree.
I pull my hand away and Kelly grabs it.
“I was going to wait until tomorrow, until Daniel was here, but we wanted to ask you—”
“Yes. I’ll be the godfather,” I interrupt her, the words tripping over my tongue. I’ve wondered why it’s taken her so long to ask me. Kate had been asked last month.
“Oh no. It’s not that.” Kelly shakes her head dismissively.
The wind is instantly knocked from my chest, my dream of being a godfather with it.
Kelly squeezes my hand and continues.
“Daniel and I have been speaking about this, and if it’s okay with you, we’d really like to name our son Christopher, after you.”
Kelly grins at me as my eyes mist up.
“As in a mini-me?” I’m barely able to make out Kelly through my tears.
“Well, he’s a mini of me and Daniel, but yes,” Kelly laughs.
“I’d be honored.” My voice cracks as I lean in for a hug.
The tenderness of her squeeze is something I’ve missed so much.
“What are you two still doing in here?” We jump apart as mum appears at the kitchen door. “You’ve got guests outside.”
No shit, Sherlock.
I help Kelly up as our mum turns and heads back to the lounge. Kelly holds two fingers up to her head and pulls the trigger. I point my fingers at our mum instead, and mimic the gesture.
A few hours later, I’m sitting across from Stephen and Ryan, still trying to wrap my head around the fact that my best friend and my ex-boyfriend are together.
Ryan’s hand has discretely rested on Stephen’s leg all evening.
Dated Christmas decorations hang from the walls and bar in the Junction Tavern pub.
A fake Christmas tree with garish decorations, the same ones they’ve used every year since Stephen and I started celebrating Christmas Eve here, sits in the corner by the fireplace.
Stephen returns from the bar with a tray of shots and three more drinks. He sits down and passes a tequila shot and lime to me before pouring salt on his hand.
“What’s he like then? Any juicy gossip you can share?”
“He’s just a normal guy, like we all are,” I say, trying to move the conversation along. I was hoping the break in conversation when he went to get another round would stop Stephen, who has a celebrity obsession, from digging for more information on Alexander.
“He is not a normal guy.”
Stephen reaches for his phone, the salt falling from his hand, and pulls up a photo of Alexander from the Men’s Health shoot, holding it up for Ryan and me to see.
“That is not a normal guy. I can’t believe you got to spend a whole week working with him!
Did you get to see him topless?” His finger flicks through more images on his phone.
I feel bad for lying to Stephen, but his mouth is looser than his asshole. One slip up and I know he’ll be shouting from the rooftops that his best friend is hooking up with a celebrity.
“No,” I say, putting the shot down and reaching for my pint instead. I take a sip to wash down my guilt.
I want to turn my attention back to them, but I also don’t want to know about the ins and outs of their relationship.
The lack of discomfort on Ryan’s face tells me he doesn’t find this evening as weird as I do. Both of us know that a few years back it would have been his hand on my leg and Stephen playing the third wheel.
“Look at them,” Stephen slurs, showing Ryan the picture of Alexander, me, and the Brewed team at one of the Brewed activation events. Stephen zooms in on the photo. Alexander stands next to me, his arm round my waist. “They would make a great couple, don’t you think?”
“I guess,” Ryan shrugs nonchalantly, clearly also over the conversation.
“He’s straight.” My tone is a little too forceful.
“Come on, when has that stopped you before?” Stephen’s hand whacks my arm.
Harsh. But true.