house of memories | phan

6. it doesn't mean our brains will change from hand grenades

"Mum, can I ask you something?"

My mother and I don't have the greatest relationship in the world if I'm honest. She thinks I'm a freak, and that's putting it gently. She's a holier-than-thou Christian and all she wanted in life was a nice, plain son who would one day get a well-paying job, find a good wife and start a perfect little family of his own. And isn't that what all parents should want for their children anyway?

But me? Oh, my mother doesn't know what went so wrong with me. My younger brother is perfect; he's good at school, he's popular, he says his prayers before bed every night, he has a huge crush on a girl in his year. My mother adores him. And then, of course, there's me. I have piercings, I don't have close friends or crushes on the right gender, I'm not religious, and my mother tells me I look too feminine to be a boy. Sometimes, she teases me and calls me Danielle, and I hate it. And she hates me.

So I already know before I even ask the question what she's going to tell me.

"What is it, Dan?" she replies, not turning around from the kitchen sink. She leans in over the sink, scrubbing vigorously and angrily. It's probably not a good time to ask, but then again, when is it a good time?

I clear my throat and brace myself. "Over the past three months I've been talking to a person online, and they've been so kind to me. We've become really good friends and now—"

"Friends? You can't befriend someone on the internet, Dan. You've never met them in real life, so how could you possibly know what they're really like?" she scoffs.

"Mum, I want to go to Manchester to meet them in real life," I shut my eyes tight and cross my fingers behind my back. "They've asked me. And I said that I would meet with them, if you will let me."

She's silent for ages and I crack my eyes open slightly, and she turns around from the sink slowly with a look of disappointment in her face.

"Is this some kind of joke?"

"No, I—"

"You want to travel all the way to Manchester to see someone you don't even know? Are you fucking crazy?" her tone doesn't change but her eyes are furious. "Is this person a man or a woman? How old are they?"

I bite my lip. "It's a boy and he's twenty two years old. I know him, Mum, he's not going to —"

"How do you know that he won't kidnap you, or rape you, or murder you? What do you honestly know about this man who is four years older than you are? You're eighteen years old. Don't be so stupid. You have heard countless stories of people meeting up with people online from online hubs, like dating sites and—" she breaks off and realisation sinks into her face and she looks like she could throw up. "Oh my God, you're not dating this boy are you? I'm going to be fucking sick, oh God, I don't want a homosexual under my roof."

"We're not dating!" I shout over her crazy remarks. We're not dating yet, my mind whispers, but push my inner voice aside. "Look, we're just friends. You know that I don't have any real life friends so why won't you let me meet the one person who has been keeping me together over the past three months?"

"You're vulnerable. If someone even smiles at you on the street you'll be friends with them. Dan, this poor boy probably only feels sorry for you, and he can tell that you're desperate for friends and he's trying to rope you into meeting up with him. Ask him if he'll come visit you down in Wokingham instead and see what he'll say."