“What are you smiling about?”
“Nothing really. Just feeling happy.” I couldn’t admit to Mickey how depressed I’d been that day when I sat, a short distance from where we were, and considered ending it all. My life. Looking back, I was shocked at how easily I had succumbed to temptation that day. How weak I had been. Maybe it’s true what they say: if it doesn’t kill you, it makes you stronger. Well, I was feeling stronger. Happier.
“I hope that’s because of the delectable company you’re now keeping?” Mickey joked.
“Of course! Seriously, though, I’m so glad Ruby acted as matchmaker. I’d be lost without you,” I admitted, snuggling into his side.
Mickey leant over and gave me a greasy kiss on the cheek. “Ditto, darling!” We continued to eat and then fed the remains to the seagulls that had been circling us in the hope of supper.
“I have something to confess,” Mickey said when he returned from putting the wrappers in the bin.
“Umm, is this a serious confession?”
“Kind of.” Awkward pause. “You know when Ruby called me and said I’d look after you? Well, she knew it was as much about helping me as you.” His voice had quietened and I struggled to hear him. “I’d chatted with Ruby at an LGBT social and told her I was thinking about packing it all in. I was lonely, despite moving to the city where I thought I’d fit in more than anywhere else, and I was struggling. You were my last chance at making it work. Well, Brighton’s last chance!” I cuddled into him even more closely.
“Why didn’t you ever say anything? You just let me go on and on about Jake and everything else and never said you were also unhappy. I feel awful.” It hurt me to think that I had been such a selfish cow. I couldn’t remember ever asking Mickey how he was. I had been content to just bask in the attention he gave me.
“I liked that you didn’t see that side of me, the unhappy one. What started off as a bit of a show for your benefit became the reality. You made me happy again.” I felt the sting of tears, but this time they weren’t tears of sadness. They weren’t tears about me.
“Aww, Mickey, that’s such a sweet thing to say.” I took his large hand in mine. “Why were you unhappy?”
“It doesn’t matter now.”
“It matters to me. Tell me. I want to know.” There was a moment of indecision, when I knew he might duck out of sharing, so I squeezed him closer. “Please.”
“Okay. Now, I don’t want to shock you but… I’m gay!”
“No! I would never have guessed!” We laughed at the absurdity of his declaration being a surprise.
“Now, now, I know it’s hardly a secret but that was my main reason for coming to Brighton: to be able to be me, without fear or shame.”
“Why? Couldn’t you be like this at home?” His laugh held the pain of someone who knew how far the truth was from my innocent question.
“No. My family can’t cope with it at all. Mum ignores it; it’s the proverbial white elephant, but I know she feels disappointed that this means she’ll never get grandkids. I’m an only child, so all of her hopes rested on me.”
“Just because you’re gay doesn’t mean you won’t have kids…”
“I know but, to them, that would be even worse. Bringing innocent kids into my lifestyle choice.” The last two words were uttered with such sadness, I knew he had heard them, had them thrown at him, too many times. “Dad feels like I’m deliberately letting down the family, that I’m choosing to be different, to cause embarrassment. When I came out to them, they were silent. Honest to God, they never said a fucking word. Silence. Then he asked Mum what was for dinner. He’s only ever mentioned it in anger, issuing ultimatums about keeping it secret, not seeing anyone and so on. I’m not allowed to be who I want to be, me, at home. Christ, at one point I thought they were trying to get me to go to some de-gaying centre.” I was thankful I’d never been anything less than fully-loved by my family and felt sad for Mickey, that he didn’t have that.