Swan Songs

by Swan, Tarn

  Dad said in a way she had been lucky because her death had been quick. She had a fall and suffered a heart attack, or maybe it was the other way round, we’re not sure yet. It meant at least she was spared more suffering as her condition deteriorated further and her ravaged brain denied her body the memory of how to swallow, and to breathe. Her funeral has been arranged for Monday. Twinkles is also upset. He was fond of my Nan. He’s trying to be strong for me, but keeps disappearing into the bathroom to have a quiet cry. He then reappears with a pink nose and red eyes and smiling brightly he pats my shoulder and asks if I want a nice cup of tea. He is the sweetest man.

  9th October 2005:

  Waiting For Godot

  It’s been a funny kind of Sunday. Not funny ha-ha or even funny peculiar, but kind of ordinary-odd in a Waiting For Godot kind of way. My mother called round this afternoon, she had Priscilla with her. He was all dressed up because after visiting us they were heading off to a transvestites support group that meets once a month on a Sunday evening. We were just settling down to tea and ginger cake when my dad arrived unexpectedly. He was on his own because Gill was feeling a little bit under the weather and was having a lie down. He’d come to fill me in on the finalised arrangements for Nana’s funeral. I think he was also looking for some company and maybe a chat (he’d told me on Thursday evening that he was struggling to identify his feelings with regard to his mother’s death) He’s obviously heard about Priscilla from Twinks and I, but this was the first time he’d met him in person. To be honest I think he suspected, or at least hoped, that we were teasing him when we told him that mum was courting a cross dresser. Now he had the evidence in front of his eyes. Mum made introductions and Priscilla stood up to shake his hand. Dad looked distinctly uncomfortable, but shook the hand politely and murmured a greeting. I felt sorry for him, because malicious glee was radiating from both mum and Twinkles as they scented his fear.

  Twinks, naughty boy that he is, linked his arm through Priscilla’s and trilled, ‘see, Desi, we told you that Joan was courting a man-woman, but you didn’t really believe us did you? Priscilla isn’t quite a queen of the desert, but certainly a princess I’m sure you’ll agree.’ He then simpered, saying, ‘aren’t you lucky, having two of us in the family.’ I glared a warning at him, but he just gave me a cherubic smile and then wagged a finger at dad saying, ‘now if you hadn’t been so sneaky and backhanded in concealing your wedding, Priscilla and I could have stepped in as Matrons Of Honour and helped Gill with her wedding trousseau. Gill is a sweet thing, but she does need someone with some fashion sense to guide her and help make the most of her figure, what’s left of it anyway. Sadly, pregnancy doesn’t flatter every woman.’ Priscilla looked embarrassed and dad flushed angrily and who could blame him. He’s never been afraid to tell Twinkles off and thrust a finger at him in preparation to remonstrate, but before he could follow the action with words, Twinkles took the wind right out of his sails by cheekily kissing the end of the finger. Batting his eyelashes outrageously he said, ‘oh loosen you underwear, daddy-in-law. I was only joking. Gill suits being in pod, it makes her look less uptight.’ Mum diffused the tension by giving Twinkles a playful cuff about the head and telling him to put his drag queen bitchiness on hold. She then put her arms round dad and warmly hugged him. She repeated what she’d already told him on the phone about how sad she was at Lillian’s passing and how very fond she had been of her. Dad got slightly emotional at that point and said his mother had thought very highly of her too and he was very glad that she was attending the funeral. It meant a lot to him. Twinkles murmured something about it being a damn shame he hadn’t thought highly enough of his first wife to remain faithfully married to her, at which point I requested his company in the kitchen to make fresh tea.

  I warned him that he’d used up his cat lives so to speak and he’d better be charm itself for the remainder of dad’s visit or there would be tears before bedtime. He scowled and said he had been charming and some folk needed to cultivate a sense of humour. He also told me that I was beginning to develop heavy frown lines between my eyes and then flounced back into the living room carrying a plate of biscuits leaving me to make the tea.

  Of course I knew what was behind his bitchy attitude towards dad, and I understood his upset, but that didn’t mean I was going to condone him being rude. I’m afraid Twinkles can be very rude if he thinks he’s been slighted in some way. He was upset because he had wanted to be one of the coffin bearers at Nana’s funeral along with myself, dad and his brother (my uncle Pete) but dad said it was more appropriate for Pete’s son (my cousin Anthony) to make up the fourth bearer as he was Nana’s grandson. Twinkles snapped that carrying her coffin would be the closest Anthony had come to visiting her in five years and it was a shame she was beyond being able to enjoy it. I had told him that I understood his feelings, but I didn’t think it was appropriate for him to be sulky and argumentative about it. My father and his brother had every right to arrange their mother’s funeral in the way they saw fit. Twinks claimed that the real reason he had been excluded as a pallbearer was because he was too short and it wasn’t fair because he could wear high heels to make up the height difference. It wasn’t the real reason at all, though it was a moot point. I had shaken away a mental image of a coffin bearer wearing high heels and gave him a hug of sympathy telling him he just had to accept the decision.

  He tried not to be resentful, but it was an uphill struggle. He really doesn’t mean to be petty, he feels things keenly, particularly things that make him feel rejected or excluded in some way. It all stems from the past, from the sense of always being an outsider with his own family. He felt like his affection for my nana and his desire to pay her due respect had been discounted, whereas Anthony, who had never bothered much with the old lady, was being given more importance. He’s also annoyed that Gill, who never met Nana, will be there leading the mourners with dad as his wife, while my mum who was the daughter-in-law for so many years, will be at the back of the church. It’s funny how all the most important occasions in life, the occasions that should bring members of a family together, are usually more guaranteed to reveal hostilities and divisions. I’ve heard of numerous feuds that have their origins in either a wedding, funeral or a christening.

  It was an afternoon for sudden visitors. I’d no sooner taken the fresh pot of tea into the living room than Lulu arrived. He was in floods of tears. Flinging his arms around Twinkles’ neck he sobbed that the man he’d met at the PP on Friday night, taken home, entertained and who had promised to meet him for Sunday lunch, had stood him up. He’d been sitting all by himself in a pub restaurant for almost two hours. It was his nose wasn’t it? It was his nose that put lovers off him; either that or his eyes were too close together. His auntie May had always said that his eyes were set too close to his nose and his ears were set too close to his head? Another cup was brought forth and tea and sympathy offered. We assured him that he had a handsome nose and perfectly lovely eyes and very cute ears and they were all arranged very nicely on his head.

  The look on my poor father’s face, as he witnessed proceedings is hard to describe. There was his ex-wife snuggling up to a man in a pink skirt, twin set and pearls while Lulu, his face streaked with mascara, was sitting on Twinkles’ lap for a comforting cuddle. I think ‘nervous’ is the closest I can come to describing his expression. Lulu gazed at him from tear swollen eyes, sniffling, ‘gay men are such bastards, Mr Swan.’ at which point mum spat, ‘gay men, straight men, the only difference is where they prefer to dip it. They’re all bastards! They pick you up, use you and then cast you aside. It’s enough to make you celibate.’ I was rather hoping that Twinks would lovingly name me as a man who wasn’t a bastard, but he was still in a huff over being told off and remained silent on the subject. If only he’d extended his silence to other subjects. He had to lower the tone by asking Lulu whether the entertainment on Friday night had been worth it? Lulu said yes, he hadn’t been entertained so well in many a long mo
nth, nor for so long, and with several encores, which made his rejection today all the harder to take. Tears threatened again as he mused on why none of his dates ever turned into relationships. Twinks suggested that maybe Lulu gave too much on the first date. Perhaps he ought to muzzle his man hungry anus (I sensed my dad’s skin blanching at that) and keep the condoms and lube in the bathroom cabinet until at least he’d secured a second date. Lu told Twinks that he was a bloody disgrace as a best friend, the worst anyone could have, and he was going to check out Natalie’s availability. Twinks tipped him off his lap.

  Turning with dignity to my father, Lulu expressed condolences for his loss. He said in respect of my having lost my grandmother everyone at the PP had had a whip round for some flowers, and would it be acceptable to send a tribute, because no one at the PP wanted to cause offence? Dad was touched and said he thought it an extremely kind thing to do and thanked him. Then he kindly patted Lulu’s shoulder and told him not to despair; there would be a man out there who was worthy of him. My poor dad, he’s the most conservative of men. I sometimes feel that my coming out was as life changing for him as it was for me. He’s glimpsed worlds that he didn’t know existed, crossed paths with people who are as alien to him as visitors from another world and yet has never wavered in his role as my parent. I think that’s remarkable.

  Before leaving for home dad asked Twinkles if he would read the psalm at the funeral service. Twinkles was really pleased and said he’d be honoured. Mum and Priscilla went off to their meeting and Twinkles opened a bottle of wine and then opened his ears to complaints about the state of his best friend’s love life. I watched the news for a while, but turned it off in the end. I just found the Armageddon like scenes of death, despair and destruction wrought by the earthquake in Pakistan and India just too distressing to witness from the comfort of home. This year has been an exceptionally cruel one as far as Mother Nature is concerned. It’s like she’s declared war on mankind, unleashing disasters of biblical proportions and causing so much suffering. I suppose the up-side, if there can be one, is that such terrible occurrences bring out a willingness in most of us to help our fellow man.

  I’d better finish up and close the lid on my modern scribes desk, or laptop. Lulu is getting tearful again and so is Twinkles. It’s time to re-cork the wine and brew some coffee.

  11th October 2005:

  Talking And Stalking

  Nana’s funeral went well, if such a thing can be said to go well. It was sad of course, but somehow the rituals of death restored the dignity that life in its latter years had robbed her of. Twinkles read the 23rd psalm beautifully and only faltered once when he got to the part that says ‘yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death’ but he recovered and finished the reading without breaking down. Afterwards, as happens at funerals, people talked about the deceased. We, her grandchildren, spoke of the long ago pre-alzheimer’s Nana who bought us sweets, baked cakes and took us to the seaside. She read a thousand stories and with infinite patience helped us form pictures from jigsaw pieces. Her sons spoke of the mother she had been to them and the wife she had been to her husband. Some few surviving friends spoke of the child Lillian, the little girl who once played and ran joyfully along the cobbled alleyways of streets long since bulldozed away. My father spoke of his guilt at feeling almost a sense of relief when news of his mother’s death had first been broken to him. He said that he felt that his mother had died a long time ago and all that was left was a shell that bore her outward look, but none of her essence. He broke down then, quietly, and Maryann and I comforted him.

  After reading the Psalm like an angel Twinks dropped back into devil mode at the funeral tea after the service. I was talking with a group of people that included my cousin Anthony. Twinks came over and slipped his arm around my waist, leaning against me. I automatically slipped my arm around him and hugged him. Anthony made a noise of disgust and moved away from us. Twinkles immediately went to follow in order to ask what his frigging problem was. I told him to just leave it because if Anthony had a problem, it was just that, his problem, not ours. I certainly wasn’t going to apologise or feel ashamed for being publicly affectionate with my partner, but nor was I going to fight over it, especially not at a funeral gathering. Anthony is my least favourite cousin. He’s always been a sanctimonious sort even my parents say so. In fact mum, being mum, describes him as being a charmless little bugger from the moment he exited the womb. To my extreme annoyance she further incited Twinkles by telling him that Anthony had been making noises and comments throughout the day about us. In her opinion he was one of those people that thought homosexuality should still be illegal and carry the death penalty. Twinkles stalked him after that, I can think of no other word that describes his actions. Everywhere that Anthony went Twinks was sure to follow.

  He clicked his tongue and pulled faces if Anthony put his arm around his girlfriend’s shoulder muttering about how it made him feel nauseous. At one point he made Anthony turn crimson with embarrassment by walking over to where he was talking with some people, tucking his arm through his and leaning heavily against him, as if they were lovers. He clung like a limpet too. Anthony couldn’t shake him off. Of course as soon as Twinks saw me heading in his direction, he would abandon his harassment campaign and hurry off to be sweet and charming to one or other of the elderly relatives present. The moment I was engaged with someone he was back on Anthony’s case. He even followed him to the bathroom chattering happily about all the nice queers that he’d met in toilets, because as everyone knew, it was their favourite place to meet. Maryann cracked up into giggles when he managed to insert himself between Anthony and his girlfriend Clarissa, when they were sitting together on the couch. He proceeded to tell Anthony that he had something of a closet look about him and did he want to talk about it with someone who understood. Anthony had the look of a man about to turn nasty and I quickly hauled Twinkles’ bad arse into a discreet corner and rollicked him. Anthony is a prejudiced prat, but that didn’t make it right to persecute him at a funeral. I told Twinkles that I wanted to think about my Nan and not worry about what he was up to. He apologised and behaved after that. I do understand his resentment, but sadly there isn’t a lot you can do to change people like Anthony. It’s a waste of breath and intellect to even try.

  I don’t feel too good this evening. I’ve had a cold for a few days and it isn’t getting any better. I’m going to have an early night. I’m shattered.

  13th October 2005:

  Just How Gay Is Too Gay?

  Once in a while I entertain the notion that at some point in my life I was abducted by aliens and set down in a strange parallel universe. Somewhere on real earth there is a Tarn Swan impostor living my life as I was meant to live it. He’ll be living in a nice ordinary orderly way, with a nice ordinary orderly partner who does not have histrionics of one kind or another on an almost daily basis. Take yesterday evening.

  I responded to an urgent banging on the front door to find a very tearful Gabby telling me that Mr Twinkles had climbed a tree and couldn’t get down again and it was all her fault and could I come and help him please. We have an area of land not far from where we live called The Green. It has a small duck pond and is surrounded by some rather fine horse chestnut trees, some of which are reputed to be several hundred years old. It’s conker season at the moment and in time-honoured fashion the local school kids are busily competing to see who can find and string the biggest and shiniest conker. Gabby had called on us after dinner and begged Twinkles to go conkering with her, as her parents were busy and she couldn’t wait until they were less busy. Poor Twinks, he didn’t really want to go. He’d seemed a bit down when I picked him up from work. He’s still missing Barbara and to cheer him up I’d told him I’d make dinner while he settled down in front of the television to watch Hollyoaks. Gabby told a tale about a boy in her class who was always teasing her and boasting about the size of his conkers (you can guess what kind of man he’s going to turn in
to) and how he was going to win the class competition yet again. She really, really wanted to beat him and the class competition was on Friday, so she had to act fast. Twinks, always a sucker for a sob story, caved and said he’d take her to The Green and they’d see what windfalls they could find. I promised to record Hollyoaks and defer dinner and waved them off. He gives in way too easily. I keep telling him that he needs to be firmer, or when he’s older Dominic will be able to manipulate him left, right and centre, just as Gabby does now. He said rather waspishly that one wicked godfather was more than enough for any kid to suffer, and Dominic was one very lucky baby to have him to counter my harshness.

  Gabby, it turned out, soon spied some good size conker cases. The only problem was their location. They weren’t on the ground or even the lower branches of a tree where they could be knocked down by a stick. They were much higher up in one of the oldest and biggest trees on The Green. It’s actually two trees that have intertwined together. Twinkles lobbed a few sticks in an effort to dislodge them, but to no avail. Gabby announced that she was going to climb up and get them. Twinks panicked and said no, because her parents would be cross with him if she fell and hurt herself while in his care. She suggested that he should climb up and get them for her. Twinks has never been a tree climbing kind of boy. He refused and she gave him what he described as the cat from Shrek2 look, all tear filled eyes and quivering lower lip. Before he knew it he was pulling himself up into the tree. He reached the cases that Gabby had spied, but then spied some even bigger ones a bit further up. The light of competition burned fiercely within him and he went in pursuit, exhilarated by his newfound ability as a tree climber. It was only when he glanced down, prior to dropping the conkers to Gabby, that the reality of how high he’d climbed hit him. The height combined with the sound of the branches creaking as they swayed in the wind made him suddenly feel dizzy. He took fright and froze, totally unable to move in any direction.