convincingly.
So I carefully constructed my façade, fixed on a hearty smile and went home to see my folks. Walking into my mother’s warm kitchen with the smell of Sunday dinner filling my nostrils almost made me crumble. I hadn’t seen my parents much at all in the last few months and knew that it could be a long while before I saw them again. The fear of the unknown stretching before me, in what I knew was going to be a difficult time, only made it harder to keep up my pretence. Fortunately for me, they naturally assumed I was excited. After all, I was going to see Saul after weeks of saving and working hard and we were going to see the world together. After a forced beginning to the conversation I somehow managed to focus on their assumptions and talk of my impending trip with some degree of honesty.
My father had a vested interest in my travels. He was part Goan-Portuguese and had lived in that part of India as a child. He still had two sisters who lived near there; one a sweet spinster who had very regular contact with Dad and the other a selfish spoilt individual who only contacted him when she wanted something. However, there was a house he told me excitedly, that, if I got a chance, I should try to visit. It had belonged to his parents, and as far as he knew was still in the family, although he had relinquished any rights he had over it to the two sisters. After dinner he dug out some photos and we looked at them together. I promised him I would try to visit the house and take some up-to-date photos to bring back for him. He told me that as far as he was aware the housemaid whom he knew as a young man still lived in the house and took care of it.
As I enjoyed my mum’s cooking and listened to my dad’s advice about travelling in that part of the world, I sat nodding in agreement with them, and told them not to worry about me. I was travelling with Cathy and Saul was meeting me, they had nothing to fear. If they knew even a fraction of the truth they would have handcuffed me to the garden gate and thrown away the key to stop me leaving.
However, I did feel the need to confide in someone. So I went to visit my big brother, and his fiancée. He would have good advice for me; he would know what to do to make things better. All through my life I’d looked up to him, not just as the rebellious teenager but from when I was a small child who believed that he knew everything, the fount of all knowledge. Even if he didn’t have the answers, I reasoned, he would be supportive and that alone would be a huge comfort.
I told him everything. I cried, sobbed at last, and felt a surge of relief as I let it all out to someone who cared, but wouldn’t judge me or Saul. I waited for his response, searching his face for his wisdom. He would be able to think rationally and help me reason things out. For a few moments he remained silent, exploring his mind for the right things to say to me. Slowly I watched his brow begin to furrow, as deep lines of disapproval formed.
“Why would someone let that happen to themself? What sort of man gets into that kind of trouble? What are you getting yourself into?” he asked me.
I told him I loved Saul with all my heart and wanted to spend my life with him. My brother stared at me as if I needed psychiatric help. I had needed him more than ever, and he had let me down. Although I knew he didn’t know Saul and was basing his views on the cold hard fact that he’d been arrested for something illegal and therefore wrong, I felt so deeply hurt that he couldn’t see how much I needed him and his support, and that without it I felt alone and scared. I didn’t understand at the time that it was his fear for me and my safety that had dictated his reaction. I could only feel pain and rejection at his response. I felt my heart close protectively around the love I felt for Saul, knowing now that I had to keep both my love and fears to myself.
“You don’t know him,” I said, with tears
So I carefully constructed my façade, fixed on a hearty smile and went home to see my folks. Walking into my mother’s warm kitchen with the smell of Sunday dinner filling my nostrils almost made me crumble. I hadn’t seen my parents much at all in the last few months and knew that it could be a long while before I saw them again. The fear of the unknown stretching before me, in what I knew was going to be a difficult time, only made it harder to keep up my pretence. Fortunately for me, they naturally assumed I was excited. After all, I was going to see Saul after weeks of saving and working hard and we were going to see the world together. After a forced beginning to the conversation I somehow managed to focus on their assumptions and talk of my impending trip with some degree of honesty.
My father had a vested interest in my travels. He was part Goan-Portuguese and had lived in that part of India as a child. He still had two sisters who lived near there; one a sweet spinster who had very regular contact with Dad and the other a selfish spoilt individual who only contacted him when she wanted something. However, there was a house he told me excitedly, that, if I got a chance, I should try to visit. It had belonged to his parents, and as far as he knew was still in the family, although he had relinquished any rights he had over it to the two sisters. After dinner he dug out some photos and we looked at them together. I promised him I would try to visit the house and take some up-to-date photos to bring back for him. He told me that as far as he was aware the housemaid whom he knew as a young man still lived in the house and took care of it.
As I enjoyed my mum’s cooking and listened to my dad’s advice about travelling in that part of the world, I sat nodding in agreement with them, and told them not to worry about me. I was travelling with Cathy and Saul was meeting me, they had nothing to fear. If they knew even a fraction of the truth they would have handcuffed me to the garden gate and thrown away the key to stop me leaving.
However, I did feel the need to confide in someone. So I went to visit my big brother, and his fiancée. He would have good advice for me; he would know what to do to make things better. All through my life I’d looked up to him, not just as the rebellious teenager but from when I was a small child who believed that he knew everything, the fount of all knowledge. Even if he didn’t have the answers, I reasoned, he would be supportive and that alone would be a huge comfort.
I told him everything. I cried, sobbed at last, and felt a surge of relief as I let it all out to someone who cared, but wouldn’t judge me or Saul. I waited for his response, searching his face for his wisdom. He would be able to think rationally and help me reason things out. For a few moments he remained silent, exploring his mind for the right things to say to me. Slowly I watched his brow begin to furrow, as deep lines of disapproval formed.
“Why would someone let that happen to themself? What sort of man gets into that kind of trouble? What are you getting yourself into?” he asked me.
I told him I loved Saul with all my heart and wanted to spend my life with him. My brother stared at me as if I needed psychiatric help. I had needed him more than ever, and he had let me down. Although I knew he didn’t know Saul and was basing his views on the cold hard fact that he’d been arrested for something illegal and therefore wrong, I felt so deeply hurt that he couldn’t see how much I needed him and his support, and that without it I felt alone and scared. I didn’t understand at the time that it was his fear for me and my safety that had dictated his reaction. I could only feel pain and rejection at his response. I felt my heart close protectively around the love I felt for Saul, knowing now that I had to keep both my love and fears to myself.
“You don’t know him,” I said, with tears
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