Dad returned little more than five minutes later. He popped his head around the sitting room door, said “blimey it’s cold out there… anyone want a brew?” before adding, “Bloody hell they are long aren’t they!” as he glanced at my legs whilst taking my mug.
“Can I have coffee please?”
“Sure. Anyone else?”
Dad returned with a round of brews and handed them out before sitting himself down and asking what we were watching. He didn’t mention my attire and barely even glanced at me… not that he was ignoring me… I get the feeling he was trying to act normal in an abnormal situation.
Later, in the kitchen he said “Cool T shirt.”
“Er… it’s one of Hannah’s.” I replied. “Dad?” I asked. “You don’t mind me er… wearing this do you?”
“Nah… if you’re comfortable, I’m comfortable.”
“You sure?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I dunno… I just thought you might think errr…” I tailed off deliberately.
“Well… don’t waste time worrying about what you think people might think… because half the time you’ll be worrying about nothing.” my dad told me. “Some people might think you’re weird or dare I say it… a ‘fag’ …some people like your sister might think it’s cool.” he claimed. “Take people as they come… in my experience they tend to surprise you.”
“Yeah I guess.” I replied, before adding that I’m not planning on dressing like this in front of my friends any time soon.
“Well that’s up to you, and it’s probably wise… at least at this stage.”
“Yeah.” I agreed. “I bet you’re glad I’m not wearing a dress.”
“I’m just glad you’re not hiding any more.” he said. “I care not what you wear, so long as you are who you are.” he added. An expression of intrigue, then pride swept his face. Whether he was quoting something or had just made it up, I don’t know. What I do know is I’m glad my dad isn’t being a dick about this.
I went up to my room and since I’m dressed for it, I listened to my new Nirvana LP again. Halfway through the second track, my sister knocked on the door and asked if she could enter. “Heard you listening to Nirvana so I thought I’d join you… if that’s OK?” she said.
“Yeah.” I replied, allowing her in. She mildly berated me for leaving my jeans scrunched up on the floor where I’d stepped out of them. I picked them up and folded them as she straightened my duvet and sat on the bed.
“I think this is my favourite song ever!” she exclaimed as the aqueous opening notes of Come As You Are warbled through my speakers. Having picked up my jeans, I began putting my discarded sock into my laundry bin. “Don’t do that… come.. sit… listen.” Hannah said as she patted the space next to her. I sat and she put her hand flat on my lap. “I’d challenge any guy to deny that tights are nice after giving them a try.” she said as she ran her palm over the smooth nylon fabric.
I smiled and agreed, before saying “What is it with you lot today? You keep rhyming.” I repeated her last sentence, then recalled as best I could what Dad had said.
“Did he really say that?” Hannah asked. I nodded. “That’s really nice.”
“I know.”