Tristan Elwes – like the actor in Princess Bride - smiled serenely as he squirmed deeper into his warm bed and brought the quilt up over his head. He loved Saturday’s, not only because he could sleep in for as long as he wanted - right now he had slept in until ten-thirty in the morning - but because Saturday’s didn’t have that horrible weight of school looming around the corner like Sunday did. He was happy, relaxed and totally at peace with the world… or at least that’s what he would have felt if he didn’t have to come out to his parents. They were cool parents; actually they were cooler than many people in the world. Tristan’s mother, Claudia, works as a sculptor and painter; many of her artworks were at the art galleries being gawked at by intellectuals or those who just took a puff of marijuana. Tristan’s father, Hugh, works as a philosopher and fantasy writer, and is quite famous for his essays on Aristotle and for his Steampunk trilogy The Flying Circus.
Personality wise Tristan was exactly like his Dad; sarcastic, mellow, and addicted to cigarettes and red wine. Whilst in the looks department Tristan was the male version of his mother; thick chocolate brown hair, very lightly tanned skin and hazel coloured eyes.
But even though his parents were near geniuses and very politically left-wing, it was this reason that he didn’t want to tell them that he was gay; they were going to treat him differently and be over-supportive. It wasn’t exactly a bad thing, but when your Mum starts acting as though she has a daughter and your Dad wants to find you a boyfriend then it starts to get awkward.
Even so, Tristan knew that Violet was right, he was being melodramatic and maybe he would be wrong and they would treat him the same as they had done for past seventeen years. Sighing, Tristan rolled out of bed and staggered his way downstairs to the kitchen where Claudia, who was already covered in blue and green paint, was sitting at the small table drinking coffee and where Hugh was whistling the theme song to Doctor Who and making pancakes.
Yes, as you can imagine Tristan did have an eclectic childhood.
Sitting down across from his Mum and pouring himself a cup of coffee Tristan knew that there would be no better time than now to tell his parents, “hey guys,” he started to which his Mum looked up for the briefest of seconds silently telling him that they were listening, “ I’m gay.”
Those two words hung in the air for the longest time, his parents had stopped what they were doing but they didn’t look at him or made any move, it was like they turned into statues. It was then that Tristan started to panic and it was then that illogical and irrational thoughts started to spread within his mind.
Perhaps they were against him being gay… Or maybe they were hoping for a grandchild one day… Or maybe they wanted to prove to their friends that they could have a son who enjoyed the arts without being a homosexual.
Slowly however those thoughts disappeared as Claudia started to laugh happily and stretched out her hand towards Hugh, who sighed, took out a hundred pounds from his wallet from the counter and slapped the money into Claudia’s outstretched out. Tristan frowned a little obviously confused by their reaction and the exchange of money.
Laughing, Hugh turned around on the spot and smiled at Tristan, “your mother and I placed a bet before you were born whether you’d be gay or straight.” He explained, before grabbing a small red plate from the counter and placed it in front of Tristan, perfectly golden brown pancakes stared at him.
Tristan had no idea whether he should be angry or amused that his parents made a bet on his sexual orientation, it was a weird situation to be in and the mix emotions of wanting to shout at his parents and laugh with them made it awkward.
So instead Tristan only chuckled quietly and mumble “you guys are so weird,” before sprinkling on icing sugar and lemon juice on his pancakes and tucking into them.
“So, do you have a boyfriend yet?” Hugh asked nonchalantly as he handed Claudia a red plate of pancakes before sitting down to his own plate. Tristan looked up at his Dad in a ‘are you really going to ask that question’ face, but Hugh just looked at him expectantly as he too sprinkled icing sugar and lemon juice on his pancakes.
“No, and I don’t like anyone from school either, and besides I don’t want anyone at school, besides Violet, to know.” Tristan explained pointing his small fork at both of his parents, emphasising the unsaid threat of “don’t start blabbing to everyone you know or else I will do hurtful things to you.”