Page 76 of Fever Dream
“Oh, I thought you’d be home by now. Sorry, darling.”
“That’s okay, mother. I can talk.”
“Oh good,” she continues, not missing a beat. “Have you heard from Henrietta lately? Because Charles has been calling us nonstop since you left. He was here again last night and really, darling, I think you should—”
I don’t get a chance to hear what mother dearest thinks I should do before I snatch the phone out of Casey’s grip, ignoring his peaked brow. I silence the speaker and retreat quickly to my bedroom. I close the door before I put the phone back on speaker to where my mother is still going on about me apparently needing to call Charles.
“Why would I call Charles, mother?” I sigh, massaging my temples as my dick shrivels. “We’re not together anymore.”
“Yes, but darling you left without even telling him. Surely you can see why he’s so upset.”
“Not really. That’s what happens when you break up with someone. They are not owed details about your life,” I point out, reasonably so. I sink onto my armchair, in for the long haul and try to forget about the half-naked treat spread out on my sofa. This is his fault anyway.
Mum sighs, the sound sad and despairing of her only son. “Yes, dear but, well, we all really thought this was just a temporary break. Charles especially.”
“I have no idea why any of you thought it was a temporary break. I don’t play games with people’s hearts, Mum.” I’m pretty sure this is the third time I’ve had this exact conversation.
“I know, but really, the Whitelaws were so excited about the thought of becoming family. Seeing as Charles and Henriettadidn’t work out as we’d planned because, you know, of the gay thing.”
She trills a laugh at her own humour. Yes, it had been a great disappointment to the Whitelaws and Thornfields that they’d not been able to merge the family titles as they’d hoped and planned when Charles and Henrietta were born within a month of each other. Imagine the excitement when, five years later, I came out and reignited the hopes and dreams of a century of ancestors.
“Well, I am sorry to disappoint so many family lineages but that doesn’t change the fact that I won’t be getting back together with Charles.”
“I know, but really, it wasn’t that bad, was it? Charles seems to think you were soulmates.”
It’s my turn to laugh. “Apart from the fact that Charles is really quite an insufferable snob who looks down on anyone who can’t trace their ancestry in Debrett’s.”
“Oh I know but you know the Whitelaws. They’re all like that.”
“Yes, and in the past our ancestors happily imprisoned anyone suspected of homosexuality. But we’ve moved on from those days. The same can surely happen with the Whitelaw’s ancient snobbery.”
“Mmm, yes I suppose you’re right,” Mum concedes reluctantly. “But we have always been a little more openminded in the Thornfield line. You may not remember great uncle George. He was a raging homosexual, and we never minded.”
I press my thumbs to my temples again. “Yes, I have heard of great uncle George and his raging homosexuality. Quite a few times in fact.”
“Yes, well, there you go.” Her sigh of disappointment can be heard across the equator. “I suppose I’ll have to let the Whitelaws know not to keep their hopes up. We were all quitethrilled with the prospect of mixing the Whitelaw and Thornfield bloodlines with future babies but never mind.”
“You do know that would not actually happen even if Charles and I were to have children, don’t you?”
“Oh la, of course you can. They can do quite wondrous things with the IVF these days,” Mum trills.
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean you can miraculously combine two male genetic lines.”
“Oh no, darling, you can with the IVF. You remember Anton and Ralf from bridge club? Well they had a baby last year through the IVF. Spitting image of the both of them, really. It’s quite extraordinary.”
I just manage to hold in my sigh. “I don’t quite see how someone can be a spitting image of two people …. But you know what? Never mind. That sounds lovely for Anton and Ralf. Just not for Charles and I.”
“Yes, I can see I’m not getting anywhere with that. How are you anyway, darling? How is the work going?” And just like that, we’re off the topic of Charles. Fortunately my mother has astonishing capacity to flit between subjects on a whim.
“Really good, Mum. I’m really enjoying everything. The Fever have been so welcoming.” There’s an obvious pause on the line and I wonder if we’ve dropped out.
I should have known better. “Hmm. Have you met an Australian? Is that why you’re so reluctant about Charles?”
I pause. “What? No.”
“You have a tone.”
“I don’t have a tone. There is no tone.”
