It's been a week since I made Bronwen upset. I texted her the evening of the incident and apologised. She texted me back and asked if I knew why I was apologising. I said yes, it was because I had upset her. Bronwen asked if I knew why I had upset her.
I did not know.
I've recounted our time in my dark room repeatedly, even in slow motion, and I still can't figure out where in our encounter I had upset her. Was it something I had said? Or was it something that I had done? Was it deliberate? Implied? Perceived? From my perspective, I hadn't gone out of my way to upset her. I was talking about photography, why I love it, why I prefer black and white, how the emotions make me feel... then she asked me a question. I answered honestly. Then she was upset.
Something about my answer to her question had upset her.
"Dad, something about my answer upset her."
Whenever I feel conflicted, I'm unsure why, but I run back to my childhood bedroom. Something is comforting about being in the environment that had been my sanctuary for over eighteen years. From the muted green of the walls to the soft texture of the carpet, even the familiarity of where all my trinkets are placed, there is nothing like being in this room.
It also helps that most of my guitars are still here and the amp, too. Léa and Sera categorically said that I was not allowed to have my guitars at their flat due to the noise. Which was fine at the time I moved in since I wasn't supposed to be standing there very long, but it's been over a year and I miss having my guitars and being able to strum as I process my thoughts and feelings.
"Dad!" I shout again. He obviously hadn't heard me the first time, otherwise, he would have come to my room. "Dad!"
Two minutes and eighteen seconds later, Dad, with overgrown stubble covering his face, walks into my room and heaves out a heavy sigh. "Joseph-" I wince at the name. He just Joseph'd me. This will not end well. "I cannot hear you if you are playing the guitar, while it is plugged into the amp, and your song choice is a loud cacophony of noise."
"It was my rendition of Burrows by Pink Fairy Armadillos." When Dad simply stares at me, I know not to bother explaining more. "More to the point, how did you know to come up here if you couldn't hear me shouting over the loud cacophony of noise?"
Dad smiles. "A parent's intuition, I suppose." I'm not sold on the scientific nature of that comment. "But alas, I am here. What it is that you were yelling at me for?"
"Something in my answer upset her."
"Her, who?"
I accidentally hit some of the strings of the guitar which makes me jump at the unexpected noise. "Bronwen. Something in my answer upset Bronwen."
Given that I've been staying at my parent's home ever since the day in the dark room, Dad- and also Mum, Sera, Owen and Levi- is up to speed on every little detail of our... discord. He'd been suitably impressed by my description of the importance photography has on me, and why I'm so passionate about it, but he did squirm in his seat when I told him about the last few minutes of mine and Bronwen's talk.
"Is that all you've figured out?" I nod at Dad's question. "So you're none the wiser about why your answer has upset her."
"No, but I'm not a mind reader, Dad. I can't control how she hears an answer once it has been offered." Dad starts to walk away at the sound of my argument. Not wanting him to leave, I follow him back down to the living room. "No, wait, Dad. My statement is correct. I cannot control her perception of my comment. But I have upset her. Now I need to fix it."
Dad abruptly stops in the hallway, just outside the family room door. Mum is inside and she's pretending not to listen, but her book is upside down. "Joss-" back to the nickname, I note. "-Why do you need to fix it? No, a better question. Why does it bother you so much that you feel the need to apologise?"
"Because I upset her."
"Son, with the greatest of respect, until you understand that a bit better, I suggest you don't talk to Bronwen. My honest opinion is that you'll likely make it worse." He then starts to walk away, heading for the stairs that lead to the kitchen. "And before you say anything, Joss, yes. Yes, even if it takes days, weeks, or months. Years, even. It's better to know where your head is, and better yet, where your heart is before you speak with her. Trust me, there's nothing worse than trying to express something you don't understand."
I bite my tongue and stop myself from stating the obvious, that my head is fixed to my body above the shoulders and neck, and quickly follow dad to the kitchen. Today is one of the rare days where he has 'switched off' his 'work brain' and is focusing on being 'a good husband' by cooking a romantic dinner for my mother. None of this makes any sense to me because you can't switch off your brain, and there is no such thing as a work brain, for that matter, and why does cooking dinner make you a good husband? I'm sure other actions show you to be a better husband, such as showing respect and loyalty to your partner. And not upsetting them.
Dad moves swiftly around the kitchen, gathering ingredients and pots and pans while muttering to himself. At one point, he starts to dictate the recipe and method for this dish without the need for the recipe book. This worries me; things are written down for the sole purpose of guiding you and without following the recipe, as written down and evidenced before you, whatever the result of Dad's attempts at cooking will be... possibly disastrous.
"Should I get a dating guide?"
"What?"
I shrug my shoulders. "When you cook, you follow a recipe. That's written down in a book. Why can't I get a book about dating that outlines, step by step, everything I need to do?"
"Because, Joss, even though it's written down, you don't have to follow it to the letter." When Dad notices my blank stare, he puts down the bag of potatoes and turns to me. "In a recipe for Chilli con Carne, it says to add two teaspoons of chilli powder. But we all know that Sera and Owen like spicy food, so two teaspoons of chilli powder won't be enough. I have to adapt the recipe so that I either add four teaspoons of regular chilli powder or I add two teaspoons of hot chilli powder. It's the same for relationships and love and sex. Just because it works for one, doesn't mean that's how it works for everyone."
I ponder this as Dad continues to move in the kitchen, peeling vegetables and setting the temperature of the oven. I find all this social etiquette stuff hard to understand and if dating rules can be adapted then why bother to write them down in the first place? Dad was right when he said that there isn't a right or wrong way of being in love. So if that is correct, does that mean all the books I've read on dating and love are bullshit? To that end, are all books that try to give advice and guidance bullshit?
The highway code, for example, could be a set of guidelines, rather than laws. Damn, where was this argument all those years ago when I was taking my driving test? I would have passed if I could argue the logic that there are no such things as laws, they're guidelines which I can either follow or choose not to.
"What are you thinking of?"
"That my driving examiner was wrong to fail me on my driving test."
At this, Dad removes the pan of boiling water from the stove and turns to me, his eyebrows shadowing his blue eyes. Everyone says that I'm very similar in looks to Dad and that there is no doubt that I'm a Fletcher. I always found that to be insulting to my mother, like they all thought there could be a modicum of possibility that I am not my father's son.
"Dare I ask how you got to that train of thought?" Dad shakes his head and holds up his hand. "No, please don't answer that. I'm already old as it is, if you explain this to me, I'll be older still. May I be honest with you, Joss?"
I nod. "I would hope that you're always honest with me."
"You know how you always tell us that we need to use our words to communicate with you because how else will you know what we mean?" I nod at his question. Dad walks closer to where I stand and motions for us both to sit at the breakfast bar. We take our seats and I turn to face my father. He looks... well, I'm not sure how he looks because I can't work it out but if I were to take a photo of him now and tell you how I feel, I would say that I feel that the man is tortured. "Sometimes, as you know, it's hard for us to understand you, too. Your mum, for example. See Joss, you rely on your words and we all know what you mean when you say them, even if we perceive them to be different to how it was intended. This is why we sometimes rely on actions.
"You love your mum, right?" I frown at the question. I'm sure that is an obvious answer. "I'm sure you think that the answer is obvious to us, but it's not. You don't always say it, and you certainly hardly show it. You haven't told Lottie that you love her in a while and I highly doubt she remembers the last time you hugged her."
I frown. "You want me to hug mum to show her that I love her?" Dad nods. "Ok, and if I hug Bronwen, would that show her that I love her?"
"Do you want to hug her?"
"Sometimes. More recently than in the past."
Dad smiles. "But you haven't hugged her, though?" I shake my head. "I'm not saying that hugging someone is a sign of romantic interest, to be clear. It's to show affection. Maybe hugging Bronwen would be sending the wrong message."
"So, don't hug her?"
"Best not to."
I pause for a moment. "Ok, so we've established that I like Bronwen. That she makes me happier when she's around. And I want to hug her." Dad nods along, the smile on his face getting wider. "What about sex?"
"Excuse me, what now?" Dad splutters and his face goes bright red. Is it possible for someone to die from inhaling?
"You talked about affection and romance, but what about sexual interest?" When Dad blinks rapidly at me, I feel the need to explain myself more. "How do you know when you're sexually interested in someone?"
Dad clears his throat. "Well, there are biological signs that would indicate your sexual desire for a member of the opposite- or same- sex. Do we need to have that talk, you know... about sex?"
"I'm not a virgin. I've had sex with many women. And there was that brief experimentation I had a few years ago with a man, and then there was Exa who doesn't prescribe to any gender or sexuality. That was a very insightful encounter."
"I- um- well-"
I tilt my head to the side to watch my father struggle to form a coherent sentence. "Have I shocked you? I think you have to be very open minded about these things. Love is love, and you can't always be sure who or what you like until you've experienced more than just one sexuality. But in answer to your question, no, we do not need to have a talk about sex. Unless you want to?"
"I have so many questions." Dad's voice is very quiet as he speaks. He seems to be lost in thought but he shakes his head and turns back to me. "We'll talk about all that another time. I think we should focus on your Bronwen situation. Are you saying that you're sexually attracted to her?"
"I think that's obvious."
Dad opens his mouth. Then he shuts it quickly. Then he opens it again. This time, words appear. "Forgive me for asking, Joss, but to whom is it obvious?"
"To me."
"Yes, but are any of your feelings, affectionate, romantic, or sexual, obvious to Bronwen?"
I think about this. Are they? "Maybe not." Then I have an idea. "I should tell her. Maybe this is why I upset her. I didn't make my feelings clear. I should explain to her that I like her. I wouldn't say that I think we should have sex immediately, but I do feel as if we should date first. See how compatible we are. Do you think she's agreed to date me?"
"You're not a... you and Exa... Joss..." Dad's string of words makes no sense.
"Are you having a stroke?"
Dad shakes his head. "No, I am not. Joss, by all means, ask Bronwen out on a date but could we quickly have that sex talk now? When exactly did you... no, wait... why didn't you tell me... no, I have a better question... your sexuality... no, that's the wrong question."
And Dad thought he'd be older by the end of our chat, I think I'll be dead if we keep going at this rate.