by Chris Birch
‘If you like meeting new people every day and being creative, this is the job for you,’ it said.
I felt a flush of excitement, that sounds perfect.
Later that day I saw Nan and told her about the hairdressing course.
‘People will always need hairdressers,’ she pointed out helpfully.
‘I can cut your hair, Tracey’s hair, I already have some clients.’
‘It’s a great idea love, go for it,’ Nan said with a smile.
Later that week I visited the college for an open day. It was odd to be surrounded by people my own age and new faces, it made me realise just how isolated I had become. As I made my way through the corridors, loud chatter carried out of each classroom and groups of excited students rushed passed me. I got a buzz just walking around the college. I decided to go ahead with course but when I filled out my form to reserve my place the reality dawned on me. What would old Chris make of me doing a hairdressing course? I thought with a smile.
On a Monday morning in April 2009 I woke to the sound of my alarm for the first time in over a year. I jumped out of bed, quickly showered and put on the clothes I had neatly laid out for myself the night before. A nervousness buzzed away in my belly, like I was about to take a test but instead of feeling frightened I was excited. I was long overdue a challenge and I couldn’t wait to get to college and start the course. When I arrived at the college gates I joined the busy throng of people making their way to and from lessons. It was the first day of term, I was just one of hundreds of people there to learn something new and there was an excitable energy in the air. I got to my classroom early, took a seat at the front and laid out the pencil and notebook I had brought with me. When the teacher came into the room I listened intently, eager to learn and even more eager to succeed.
‘You’ll need to get yourself a work placement at a hairdressers for one day a week, as part of the course,’ my teacher explained.
I nodded dutifully as she talked through the basics of our training and what we would cover. It was such a stark contrast to the stories I had been told about how I was at High School, always mucking around and not taking lessons seriously. This time I knew how important a qualification was, it could change my life, get me a job and help me rent my own place. More importantly, it would give me some self-esteem back.
A week later I plucked up the courage to go into a hairdressers near my flat and ask for a placement.
‘I’m studying at the local college, could I come in one day a week?’ I asked nervously.
‘Of course love, it’s all ladies here, we could do with a bloke,’ a curvy lady with bright, red, hair said.
Everything had begun to fall into place for me. I enjoyed my course, it was great to learn something new and be creative, even better to have something to do every day.
When I started working at the salon the staff took me under their wing like a group of surrogate sisters. Months into my work placement I celebrated my 25th birthday in the salon. As I swept up hair from the floor I noticed the buzz of the salon had turned to silence. I looked up, still clutching my broom and was met by the bright smile of Margaret, one of the stylists. Her face was slightly glowing thanks to the cake, decorated with lit candles, that she was proudly holding in her hands.
‘Haaaaapppyyyy birthday to you …’
A gaggle of voices suddenly broke out into song and I felt my face flush red as they.
‘…happy birthday dear Chris, happy birthday to YOU!’
They sang at the top of their voices, two of the girls had linked arms with me and were swaying me from side to side. I flashed back to my 21st birthday, all those years ago, when I had only just found out I had suffered a stroke. Sat in an Indian restaurant, surrounded by family and friends I didn’t recognise, they had sung to me too. Back then I had wanted to get as far away from them as possible but now I felt like I was right where I should be. Everyone in the salon knew me for me, they didn’t even know old Chris, I had finally stepped out from his shadow.
In between lessons at college I had noticed the same face popping up in the corridors. A good-looking slim, brown-haired guy, he looked a bit younger than me and dressed in really smart, trendy clothes. He was always talking to other people on my course, was in the canteen with his friends when I went to get lunch, or, passed me on the way to class. He seemed to know everyone.
One day, I got to my lesson early and he was standing outside the room talking to one of the girls on the course.
‘Hi, I’m Jack,’ he said.
‘Hi,’ I said, ‘you joining our class?’.
‘Oh no, I did it last year, I’m studying beauty.’
I smiled back, not sure what else to say but keen for the conversation to continue. But then our teacher appeared in the doorway and motioned for us to come through the door. Later that day I logged onto Facebook in the college computer room and noticed a new friend request, I instantly recognised the picture, it was Jack. I clicked accept and thought nothing of it until later that night when I noticed Jack had sent me a Facebook message.
Nice to meet you, how was the rest of your day? It read.
I felt my face fold into a smile but I wasn’t sure why. I quickly began to type back.
Yeah, not too bad…. I began typing and tried to think of something more interesting to say. I hit delete and started again.
It was great, learnt how to cut a fringe! Let me know if you want one ; ) I wrote and then chuckled to myself gleefully, that will make him laugh, I thought.
Ha, no thanks! You enjoying the course? he replied.
We sent a few more messages about our courses and then Jack signed off.
I’ll come and find you for a chat tomorrow, he wrote.
My fingers hovered above the keypad as I wondered what to write. Does he fancy me? I wondered.
With everything that had happened I hadn’t given my love life a second thought, I had decided I needed to be in a better place emotionally before I could date. But now everything else had fallen into place I had begun wondering when, or how, I would meet someone.
Maybe he’s just being friendly, I thought, don’t jump to any conclusions.
Yeah, that would be good ; ) I typed.
The next day, halfway through a practical lesson where I was cutting a doll’s hair into a bob, my phone pinged, it was a message from Jack.
I’m outside your classroom, it said.
My teacher was distracted with helping another pupil, so, I nervously rose from my seat and left the room, moving slowly to attract as little attention as possible. When I opened the door Jack’s face was a few feet away, he shot me a cheeky grin.
‘You broke out then,’ he chuckled.
‘I did, thought it would be rude not to.’
Now that Jack was in front of me I realised just how good looking he was. He was slightly taller than me, his clean-shaven face was flawless, his big blue eyes were hard to look away from.
‘Well I’m glad you did.’
Is he flirting? I wondered, I’m pretty sure he’s flirting.
I heard the classroom door open and worried my teacher might come out and see me.
‘I better get back but maybe we could do something one night this week?’
‘That would be great.’
I turned away from Jack to go back into the classroom and felt my heart flutter slightly. I tried to concentrate on cutting the doll’s hair but I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face.
I sent Jack a message that night and invited him over to my house the following evening. He arrived clutching a bottle of wine. I took his coat, showed him to the sofa then wondered how to break the silence. I was so rusty at dating I had almost forgotten what to do. But Jack gave me one of his big, warm, friendly, smiles and I instantly relaxed.
‘So, how long have you lived here?’
‘About a year and a half, I was in Cardiff before that but originally I’m from Bargoed.’
‘Oh wow, I’m still living with my family
.’
‘Well that has it’s advantages, someone to do your washing and cleaning for you.’
I laughed and opened the bottle of wine.
Jack relaxed back into the sofa as I handed him a glass.
Conversation flowed effortlessly. Jack was unbelievably easy to speak to and without any effort we quickly got to know each other. The guys I had dated before had been forceful, forward and had always taken the lead, it was nice for things to feel a bit more balanced.
After a few hours of chatting we had made our way through the bottle of wine and Jack looked at the clock.
‘Better get back, I’ve got to get the last train,’ he sighed and sounded genuinely disappointed.
He stood to leave and I walked him towards the door, I felt a nervous energy between us. Jack lingered on the other side of the doorway in the corridor, he looked like he was waiting for something.
Oh god, oh god, oh god, right, i’m going to go for it, I thought and leaned towards Jack, please don’t turn away and make me look like an idiot.
Thankfully, my prayer was answered and we shared the first of many kisses.
That weekend we went to the cinema together and saw a sci-fi film.
‘This is terrible,’ I whispered to Jack, halfway through.
‘Hopefully it’s a short film,’ Jack laughed back.
‘Sssshhhh,’ a lady behind us said loudly.
‘You’re going to get us chucked out,’ I whispered.
‘Wouldn’t be such a bad thing,’ he joked with a wink.
Every date I had with Jack was better than the last. A few days later I invited Jack to my house, after college, for dinner. I finished early at the salon so I could walk to the local supermarket and trudged back, arms laden with heavy bags, in the rain. I must really like this guy, I thought as my hands started to ache under the carrier bag straps.
After slaving away in the kitchen, carefully tidying the house, lighting candles and opening a bottle of wine, my stomach was lurching with excited nerves. But when Jack arrived his cheery smile melted away any anxiety I had.
‘This is amazing, you can cook for me every night,’ he said.
We snuggled up on the sofa after dinner and drank our wine, Jack told me stories about his close knit family and we swapped notes on teachers at college. One thing lead to another and that night we slept together. After that, I just felt drawn to be with him. Jack ended up staying at my flat again that night and the next night and the next.
As part of our courses we both had to practice what we had learnt on volunteers but it was up to us to find people. So, after I had bleached Jack’s hair blonde I was forced to be a willing guinea pig to one of his beauty treatments.
‘Okay, I need a model to practice something on and I can’t find anyone,’ Jack pleaded one morning as we ate breakfast.
‘What is it?’
Jack looked away.
‘Erm, so, yeah, can you come to the beauty room at lunchtime today?’ he said, in between mouthfuls of toast.
‘What is…’ I started but before I could finish Jack had given me a kiss and sped out the door.
Why is he in such a rush? I wondered. It didn’t become clear until I walked into his classroom at noon and noticed half a dozen women having their nails painted.
I began to back out of the door but Jack caught sight of me and ran over.
‘Yay, you’re here, thank you SO much.’
Jack grabbed my hand and before I could protest he had sat me down and started applying something on the end of my nails.
‘So, your painting my nails are you?’ I said, shaking my head at how ridiculous it was.
Jack looked up and made an awkward face.
‘Erm, yeah, kind of.’
We may have only known each other for weeks but Jack was such an honest guy it was obvious when he was being shifty.
‘What is it?’
Jack shrugged.
‘Well, I need to give you acrylics .. fake nails.’
‘Oh god no, Jack, no, no, no, no.’
Jack’s face dropped.
‘I can’t find anyone else to do it and I need to have practised it on someone to pass this module.’
He looked up at me sadly with his big blue eyes.
I can’t let him down, I realised. It went against every instinct in my body but I wanted to stay there and help Jack.
‘Go on then.’
I should have been annoyed but instead I felt blissfully happy. Why are you letting him do this? I wondered. A huge grin spread across my face as I realised the answer to my question. It was like an odd numbness had taken over my body, like a really strong anaesthetic before an operation. I’m in love. Since I didn’t remember much of my past relationships with girls, or, how I felt, to me, Jack was my first love.
The first six weeks of our relationship we were inseparable and so, when Christmas approached, Jack invited me to meet his family. We spent New Year's Eve cuddled up on the sofa, watching the fireworks on the TV before sharing a kiss when Big Ben’s hands struck twelve. A few days later Dad came by to drop off my Christmas present and met Jack for the first time. As I watched them making small talk and Dad pretending to be interested in Jack’s beauty course, I realised what a hugely significant moment it was. There were no more secrets.
‘Oh I’ve got something for you,’ Dad said.
He passed me a wrapped present but then he produced another present from the bag and turned to Jack.
‘This is for you Jack,’ he said.
It was clear from Jack’s face that he was surprised. I shot Dad a big smile and then felt myself get emotional, so I concentrated on ripping open the paper of my present. It didn’t really matter what was inside, Dad had accepted my boyfriend, it felt like I didn’t need anything else at all. I was being myself and everyone in my life was okay with that, in fact, they loved me for it.
Nan and Grandad met Jack too, so did my Dad’s fiance Karran and they were all really lovely to him. But my happiness was tinged with a slight annoyance, why can everyone else accept me for who I am but not my Mum? I hadn’t heard anything from Mum but I knew, through Dad, that her and Simon were fine. I had no desire to get back in touch with her, she had made her feelings perfectly clear and I wasn’t going to beg her to love me. Besides, my Dad, Nan and Grandad had become all the family I needed.
One Saturday afternoon Dad had arranged to come and visit but when I opened the door he wasn’t alone. My brother was lurking behind him in the corridor, looking at his feet.
‘I brought Simon to come and see you.’
‘Ok-ay,’ I started, ‘come in’.
I quickly ran to the kitchen to make them some drinks so I could compose myself. It was hard to know if I felt happy, or, sad. When I went into the living room Dad immediately started making small talk.
‘So, Chris is doing really well with his course,’ Dad said.
‘How are you Simon?’ I asked.
‘Good.’
‘How was your Christmas?’ I asked.
Simon went to say something and then stopped himself.
‘Yeah, nice,’ he replied.
‘Yours?’
‘Yeah, great,’ I said.
I tried to think of something we could talk about that didn’t involve Mum. She was like the elephant in the room, it felt unnatural not to ask how she was but I knew we needed to avoid the subject of her. Simon clearly didn’t want to ask about Jack, we both knew that I was gay but since I hadn’t been the one to tell him it would have been odd for Simon to bring it up. After five minutes of very tedious small talk Dad must have noticed how awkward Simon and I were and so rose from his seat.
‘Better get back, I’ll give you a lift Simon,’ he said.
With a look of sheer relief Simon quickly got up and strode over to the front door. I didn’t blame him. I couldn’t wait for him to leave either. Then just before he walked out Simon turned to me.
‘I won’t tell Mum I’ve been here,’ he said with
an awkward grimace.
I frowned but before I could think what to say he had left. I didn’t want to be his dirty secret, I didn’t feel like I was something to be ashamed of. I had always assumed that if we were reunited it would be like a big emotional moment you saw in films. In reality, my brother felt like a complete stranger.
By the summer of 2010 Jack and I had moved into a new flat together, which was above the hairdresser’s where I worked and had taken in a rescue dog, Shabby. With the new commitment we had made to each other I felt like it was time to be completely honest about my past.
One day, as we snuggled up on the sofa with Shabby and watched TV, a programme came on about a Mum and Son who had been reunited, it seemed like as good a time as any.
‘So, you know me and my Mum don’t get on …’ I started.
Jack nodded, I had never gone into any detail about why I didn’t see her.
‘Well, basically, when I came out and told her I was gay she didn’t like it.’
Jack nodded. ‘That’s horrible, I’ve heard of that happening, the family just can’t accept it,’ he said and stroked my arm.
‘Well, it’s a bit more complicated than that. You know I told you I had a stroke and that’s why I have to take painkillers sometimes?’
Jack nodded, his face had frozen into a frown, he was clearly wondering where the conversation was leading.
‘Well before the stroke…’
I paused, choosing my words carefully.
‘Before the stroke I was straight and after the stroke I was gay.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘The stroke made me gay.’
Chapter Eighteen: Coming Out To The World
The buzz of the radio crackled away next to me, I looked out of the window, drizzles of rain were falling at a slant, creating messy puddles but inside the salon it was cosy and warm.
