Page 96 of Pansies

Alfie opened his mouth, and all the words came pouring out. “He’s beautiful, Ma. And I really want to be with him and makehim happy, except I dunno how because we’re stuck in the wrong places and—What’s the matter?”

His mam was staring.

“Wha?”

“Ye never talked about your girlfriends like that.”

“Like how?”

“Dead romantic.”

He blushed. “That’s cos I don’t feel romantic about girls.”

“Well,” she said finally, “alreet.”

Maybe he should have been grateful. A year ago, maybe even a week ago, he probably would have been. He’d just have been so relieved that she wasn’t screaming or weeping or recoiling in disgust. But something had changed—he’dchanged—and he needed more from her than passive acceptance. He needed understanding. “It was really confusing at first. Not the—” Shit, he couldn’t talk to his mam about sex. “I mean, the idea of being with a lad, same as you would a lass.”

“But, Alfie, it’s not the same, is it?”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re both men.”

He didn’t dare look at her right then, so he took a massive mouthful of tea, and it was slightly too hot, so it burned all the way down. “So?”

“Look, I might not’ve had an artsy-clartsy university education like you, pet, but I’ve been married for gan on forty years. Which means I do know a bit about men and a bit about women, and you need both te make a proper family.”

“I thought all you needed to make a proper family was love.”

She sighed gently. “I’m not saying men aren’t loving, I’m saying they’re different, and they show it different. It’s women who are the caretakers.”

“Don’t you think,” Alfie snapped, “that mebbe when you’re with someone, you should maybe take care of each other?”

“You’re twisting me words.” She sounded genuinely upset, which made him feel like an absolute monster. “That’s not what I meant. Men bring some things to a relationship, and women bring others, and they’re both important in their own ways, and that’s…that’s just how it is.”

Oh God, he’d made her cry. He’d made his mam cry with his gay.

She pulled a tissue out of her sleeve and wiped her eyes. “And ye can be angry with me and say I’m…a…a basher…but it won’t change what I know and how I feel. I’m sorry, Alfie. I want you to be happy, I really do, but this is never going to be summin I can understand.”

“Alreet.” He gulped down the rest of his tea and took the mug to the sink to wash it out.

“Ye don’t have to do that.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Alfie overdid the Fairy Liquid and ended up with a massive pile of bubbles. Tiny iridescent spheres drifted up from between his fingers. Then popped, one by one by one, leaving nothing behind at all.

“What if you want bairns?” his mam asked suddenly.

“I do want bairns.” There was no point arguing though—she wasn’t going to get it. Probably never would. He shook off the excess water and put the mug neatly on the drying rack. “Anyway, I’d better be off.”

“Y’know I love ye, don’t ye?”5

“Course I do.” He crossed back and kissed her lightly. “I love you too.”

She reached out and caught his hand. “Who does the cooking?”

Instinctively, he sensed it probably wouldn’t be Fen. “Suppose I’ll have to learn.”

“Eee, wor Alfie, don’t tell Da.”

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