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38
BRYN
How long untilthe world knows?
The fallout will be immense.
I head to Wales, not to see Hannah but to deflect the shitstorm about to happen. I can’t talk to Avery, not yet. My head is fucked by the news. I don’t know which way is up right now and the thought of talking to Avery about this too won’t fit into the jumbled mess in my mind.
Mum's hysterical reaction contrasted Dad's silent disappointment, speaking to me as if Connor happened yesterday and I’m a naughty teen who couldn't keep his dick in his pants. I’m a grown man, for fuck’s sake.
Unfair. We were in love. Committed. Forever. The decision to take the final step in our relationship was made in the weeks leading up to Hannah’s departure for Australia. We had sex once. What are the chances?
Fate.
Me and Hannah, always fated.
The world wanted us reunited, fate going about this in a horrible way by subjecting our son to cancer. I asked Hannah where her new partner is and she softly told me her relationship had broken down.
Family pressure begins, how I should 'make things right', their traditional values seeping into the situation. My shocked sisters soon begin talking about their nephew, whispered conversations about what they think I should do. I'm ripped into pieces, disconnected from everything but the need to see him.
Disconnected from Hannah.
Disconnected from Avery.
* * *
I seeHannah again three days after my world imploded. The shock and anger retreats enough to consider a rational conversation with her. She has answers I need in order to make sense of all this.
Hannah comes to my family home, where she sits outside on the patio and I stand a few metres away, at the edge of the lawn. Summer is late this year, the weather warmer than usual but Hannah wears a jacket against the unfamiliar temperatures.
“I forget how green Wales is,” she says, gazing at my parents lovingly tended garden. “I don’t have plants in my garden at home. They all die.”
I clench my teeth. “Hannah, I didn’t ask you to come to talk about the Australian climate and gardening.”
“I’m nervous.”
“Don’t be. I’m still fucking pissed off with you, but I’m calm this time.”
“Okay.”
I’ve rehearsed my questions but my mind blanks. After a few moments, Hannah looks me in the eyes for the first time and I see the confusion and anxiety barely hidden.
“I need to understand why you’ve lied to me for so many years. I keep going over and over in my head and I can’t rationalise why. Especially the two years where we saw each other—why didn’t you tell me then?” I ask.
“I don’t know. I wish I had.”
I raise my voice. I don’t have time for half-hearted answers and more bullshit. “That’s not good enough; you have to fucking explain to me.”
She shrinks back in her seat. “Bryn, please don’t swear at me.”
“Answer the question,” I snap.
“My mum insisted I tell you once you became famous, that you had the money to support us but I refused.”
“Why?”
Hannah’s gaze shifts to her hands. “Because that meant admitting he was mine.”
