Going Home

Only the psychology exam left now. Save the best until last, why
don't you. At least English is out of the way now. I don't think I did
too badly in that - I hope I didn't anyway. I can't afford to do badly
in English, I mean, its sad to say, but my whole life rests on that
exam. "When I grow up, I want to be a journalist," I remember proudly
announcing to my mum at the age of about nine or ten when I won the
story competition in the local paper. The theme was "Your Family". I
wrote about how much I loved mine; explaining in great detail what made
each member special to me, right down to Sammy the rat and the frogs in
the pond. My mum was so proud of me when I won. She was right in the
front row, getting the tissues out ready. I shall never forget that
moment. I was always distinctly average at school, never top but never
terrible, a bit happy-go-lucky, caring more about having a laugh with
my mates than working. That time was the one time when she really felt
proud of me. I want her to be proud of me now, as proud of me as she
was then.
I'll be seeing her on Saturday, when I finally get out of this dump. I
think the thought of that is more nerve-racking than the exams! You
see, I'm bringing my girlfriend back too, for the first time to meet
the parents and to be honest; I'm just a little worried about what
they'll think of her. She's just so different to what I've brought home
before, for a start, the whole animal rights thing. She's a vegetarian
and she's always going on protest marches to one lab or another. She's
also a complete pacifist and I think she goes on anti war marches too.
I just hope she doesn't cause too many arguments over the Sunday
roast.
I can see it now - "Chris, darling, you're wasting your life with a
girl like her, you could do so much better for yourself." I mean, I
love my mum and everything but she is such a snob! Ever since we moved
to Surrey she's been acting like she's related to the flippin' Queen!
I'm lucky, I escaped up north to U of L before she had any effect on
me, and so I'm pretty normal, if there is such a thing! My dad's not as
bad, but he's so sycophantic and so weak. She's got him completely
wrapped round her little finger and he's just happy to be there. He'd
never dare question her judgement, just won't stand up for himself at
all. Unlike Beth.
I'll never forget the first time I met Her. It was one of those "love t
first sight" things, straight out of a trashy romance novel. It was the
first day of uni and my brilliantly well-coordinated dad was helping me
shift some of my heavier stuff when we backed right into her, knocking
all of her stuff right over the stairs in front of everyone. Dad was
quick to volunteer at picking it all up, before I reminded him mum was
waiting in the car (hands off dad!) Amidst the chaos, we managed to
arrange to meet up later for an ice cream and it all took of from then
really. We had so much in common, from double chocolate fudge sundaes
without the wafer, right up to both being huge Travis and Wheatus fans.
We even turned out to be in the same English class, which was cool. At
least I didn't have to be a complete loner! I think she was quite
relieved too, actually. After all the horror stories mates had been
telling me about how uni was hell being on your own all the time with
no one that knows you, it actually went quite well for me and it was
all because of her. Once you know someone, it all somehow fits in to
place all around you. Its weird.
I think her loudness is rubbing off on me. I was never shy or anything
but I've always been a better listener than a talker and I think she
just brings out so many other qualities in me that I never even
realised were there before. She's always been brought up to be loud,
she said. There was a lot of racism where she used to live so she had
to learn to stand up for herself. I think her skin's gorgeous, velvety
chocolate brown. Her hair matches it and she has it done in loads of
tiny braids with beads on the ends. You can always hear her coming, she
rattles! I was teasing her about it the other day, when we were doing
the washing up. It ended in a massive water fight with both of us
totally soaked and running round the kitchen, laughing
hysterically.
"Christina!" she was screaming at me, ducking as the sponge flew
neatly over her, right through the window, nearly missing a couple of
kids playing Frisbee. "You are sooo dead!" I shouted back and so it
carried on, until we realised we'd missed half of "Eastenders!"
"Christina" is the one insult guaranteed to wind me up and she knows
it! I can't help it; I just hate my real name. It sounds so sweet and
elegant, like a ballerina or something, the complete opposite of me! I
got accepted on the County Women's Football team last month and I'm not
exactly delicate as a result. Beth thinks Christina is a cute name, but
Chris is sooo more me, darling!
Mum was a little upset when I decided to drop the 'ina'. Well, I guess
she would really; it was sort of her decision. A family name, she said.
What did I tell you, complete snob! I expect it'll get brought up at
the weekend, along with the football, the 'dead end' journalism and of
course the 'girlfriend'. I expect she'll say it like that anyway, in
quotes, separated from the rest of her coffee mornings, WI meetings and
other appropriate activities for a forty-something middle class Hook
Heath matriarch. Her glasses resting on the end of her nose, inspecting
the two of us, like a couple of mice about to invade the precious Brie
and Stilton to go with the Chardonnay. Of course dad won't have the
guts to say anything while she's around. Maybe later we'll get a "she
doesn't mean it, love, she just doesn't know what on earth she'll tell
her friends." I mean I'm bloody gay dad, not a flippin' druggie or even
a prostitute. I'm happier than I've ever been with Beth; she is the
most precious thing in my life. So before I see you mum, I'm sorry for
messing up your own neat little life, all wrapped up nicely in brown
paper, but don't be angry with me, please. I only ever wanted to make
you proud.