Chapter Text
Simon
Mum’s away today—which is just what I need on a Monday morning.
Technically, it means a longer shift for me. I could only get coverage for the morning, so I’ll have to stay late and close up, which would normally ruin my day. But weirdly enough, I don’t mind. Maybe I’m even a little relieved.
It gives me an excuse to cancel my meeting with Baz.
He hasn’t said anything since that text he sent Saturday night, and I haven’t exactly rushed to start the conversation either.
I do want to talk to him. I just don’t want to talk about that. About Friday. About what might be changing between us.
So I shoot him a message, letting him know I have to cancel.
He reads it almost immediately. Doesn’t reply.
Now I’m not sure what to feel.
Baz
I hate to admit it, but I’ve been dreading seeing Simon again, especially with the conversation I know I need to have. Telling him about Rosie feels impossible. Maybe I’ve been avoiding him. Okay, I have been avoiding him. But can you really blame me?
(Ellie can. And does. Frequently.)
So when he cancels our meeting, the wave of relief that hits me is instant and intense. I don’t even try to fight it.
But that relief is short-lived. I still have to see him anyway. And I doubt Ellie would agree to take Rosalind to kindergarten again just so I can avoid facing Simon. She’s patient, but even she has her limits.
Lately, it’s been getting harder to lie to Roo. She’s clever. Too clever, sometimes. And while part of me swells with pride at the clever little person she’s becoming, another part is drowning in guilt. I’ve kept this secret from Simon for so long, and every day it feels heavier. How can I feel so proud of my daughter and yet so ashamed of what I’ve hidden about her?
I’m spiralling, and it’s only Monday.
“Daddy?”
Oh yes, my child? You know, the one causing the existential crisis in the first place?
“We’ve been in the car for a while now. Can we go inside? I want to see Mrs Lucy. She said that you and Mr Simon are special friends. What’s a special-”
And with that, I leap out of the front seat before she can finish whatever that was.
By the time we make it inside, the last few kids are filing into the classroom. I kneel down and kiss Roo on the forehead, but out of the corner of my eye, I catch several of the mums giving me looks - the kind that say they’re quietly sizing me up.
I start to step away, hoping to avoid any unwanted attention, but before I can get very far, a small crowd of them gather around me - the same ones who practically melt whenever Simon is nearby.
I mean, I do the same, but I’m not married and/or 20 years his senior.
Usually, Ellie and I just keep to ourselves and try to stay out of the way. The other parents—especially the mums, tend to give us a wide berth, like they’re trying to avoid catching ‘teen’ cooties. It’s this quiet kind of distance, like they’re not sure if they should feel sorry for us, judge us, or just feel awkward.
But today, with Ellie gone, their curious eyes zero in on me, and suddenly I’m the centre of their intense attention.
One of the mums reaches out and grabs my forearm.
“My word, Basilton, is it? You must tell us how long you and that darling Simon have been gay boyfriends!” she simpers.
I wince.
“Uhm- we aren’t really…”
They don’t seem to be interested, instead turning to each other.
“Do you have to say gay boyfriends? I must admit, I haven’t been around gay people since Maureen’s stag do.”
“Well no, I wouldn’t-” I start to cut in, but once again, they continue over the top of me.
“Now you, sweetheart, we could all tell you, ah, swung the other way, but that Simon? He is not your normal gay.”
Jesus, Mary and Joseph. I cannot let this continue, so I clear my throat.
“While I’m flattered, ladies, and I really do hate to crush your spirits, but Simon and I are not boyfriends.”
They look so shocked that I don’t think what I’m about to say could confuse them even further.
“And just boyfriends is fine. You really don’t need to say the gay bit. Really.”
The apparent leader, a Sue or Lorraine or something of the sort, speaks up.
“Oh, well we just thought you must have been? Mary over here has seen Simon with your daughter a few times of an evening. How unorthodox of you. Is it best for a child to grow up with such confusion around her? I mean no offence, but the poor girl doesn’t even have a mother!”
“Lorraine! Always a pleasure,” someone says, yanking me away from the throng of judgemental Karens.
Ellie looks at me, smirking. I know immediately what she’s thinking.
“Don’t.”
She just rolls her eyes. “C’mon Baz. Even Little Miss Gay Boyfriend thinks you’re a couple, and she hasn’t interacted with a gay person since she traumatised some drag queen at a bachelorette.”
I can’t help but laugh as we move to the carpark.
“Wait. Don’t you have that meeting with Simon? You know, so you can tell him about your child? The one he is convinced is your sister? So the two of you can finally smoosh faces??”
Definitely not laughing anymore. Ellie continues to stare, not taking my silence as an acceptable answer.
“He had to cancel. Something about his mum.”
She slides into her car, unconvinced. “Tell him Baz. Soon.”
“I will!”
I will.
Just maybe not right now.
Simon
Ellie picks up Georgie and Rosie, but before she heads off, she beckons me over.
“You should thank Baz,” she says as she picks up the girls bags.
“Uhm, sure. Mind telling me why?”
She rolls her eyes.
“You missed one heck of a morning. The mums, you know the ones, cornered Baz to ask him about you two being gay boyfriends. Their words, not mine,” she winks, heading for the door.
“But we aren’t boyfriends?” I call after her, in confusion.
We aren’t.
I think.
I check my phone. Shit. Too early to ring Penny.
Why the fuck did she have to live in the States?
Baz
I’m halfway through complaining about the T.A. to Niall when my phone suddenly buzzes. He looks relieved, and then downright pleased, when he sees I’m getting a call. I shoot him my most withering glare, but he just grins wider and nudges my phone towards me, nodding toward the door.
Normally, I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction, but this time, I just brush it off and make a beeline for the lecture hall door - just as my phone stops ringing.
It’s an unknown number, but they left a voicemail, so I move off to the side of the hallway and press play.
“Hello. Is this Basil? It’s Cressida. I was thinking maybe I could see Rosalind? I’m back in the UK, and well, I don’t know…”
“I just thought it would be nice to see how our daughter turned out.”
Fuck.