Educating Simon by Robin Reardon Read Free Book Online Page A

looked blank, and BM looked bland.
    He spoke first. “So . . . ?” His tone was not challenging; it was his usual calm voice.
    So?!? How very Welsh of him, not to take that announcement seriously. But I had to believe he was bluffing, that he was really horrified or at least worried about his image or his friends or his family or something. He just didn’t want me to know I’d landed a hit. I decided to ignore him and looked at Mum. I could almost smell the wood burning inside her head, asking: How should I respond to this?
    I watched as her expression moved slowly towards sadness. If she’d said something like, “You can’t be serious,” or “What utter nonsense,” it would’ve led to a knock-down, drag-out battle that might have provided some chance of . . . I don’t know, something to stop this train to hell moving forwards. But still she didn’t say anything. So I sat up in the chair, strong and proud now, and dropped another bomb.
    â€œI have a boyfriend.”
    â€œOh, Simon!” The sadness was obvious now. Of course, to me, this said that I’d dealt her a terrible blow. Her precious boy, her only child, is a deviant, a pariah. If she’d been embarrassed by Clive, what would this do to her? I couldn’t recall that she’d ever said anything negative about gay people, but neither had she said anything in support. So it had to have been a blow. I wanted it to be a blow. She stood and moved to stare out the window.
    â€œYou seem pretty unhappy about it.” My tone was almost gloating.
    She turned to face me. “Am I sorry to hear this? Of course I am. Your life will be much more difficult, I don’t understand homosexuality at all, and instead of telling me at a time when we could have a genuine conversation, you have just thrown this news at me in the middle of the discussion about other things to muddy the waters and try and make me feel guilty—”
    I rose out of my defensive ball in the chair to stand in front of her, wishing she weren’t just a hair taller than I am. “Oh, Mum, I really don’t need to do that. You should feel so bloody guilty already—”
    â€œEnough!” BM’s voice shocked us both into silence. I’d never heard him raise his voice, or seen him do anything to take control before today.
    He stood near Mum and me, but sort of opposed to us. He looked at me. “Do you have any idea how lucky you are? How good you have it? No money worries, no health problems, a mind well into the genius category, and a future brighter than most people could reasonably expect. You have a mother who adores you and a stepfather who would like to get to know you—yes, gay or not, that makes no difference to me—and provide you with even more opportunities. I don’t want to make light of your leaving your boyfriend, but you’re smart enough to know you haven’t yet met anyone you want to spend the rest of your life with. And despite all these advantages, what do you do? How do you react? If your charmed life means so little to you that you’d destroy it with hatred and verbal brutality, then let’s find a way to turn it over to me so that I can give it to the little girl waiting at home for me.”
    He took a few audible breaths and turned to Mum. “Em, I know you’re sensitive to what Simon’s going through. And yet you let him push your buttons, and you push his, and you end up in an argument with him every time you talk. He’s a young man, not a child, and he deserves to know the full truth of what’s happening and why. No more secrets. No more half-truths.”
    Back to me again. “I will help you prepare for this move any way I can, and once you’re in Boston I’ll do everything I can to make sure you’re as comfortable as possible. It will be up to you to make sure you’re happy. No one expects you to make your mother happy,