Dirty Boy – 1

I felt the heat in my face as soon as she said it. Humiliation twisted inside. Embarrassment uncoiled. The fire in my cheeks and the way I couldn’t look at her face-on were all the confirmation she needed. Despite my mumbled “No,” it must have been obvious I was lying.

“Let’s get something straight,” she said. “Right now.”

I gulped and glanced at her face while a quick, impetuous thought about escape popped into my head. It was a brief look at her eyes, which were fixed upon me like blue lasers of death, her expression serious. When I saw that look, panic swelled. I didn’t want to be there. I didn’t want to have the conversation I knew was coming. The urge to get away was strong, compelling, and near irresistible.

But I was trapped.

I was on my bed with my aunt perched on the edge between me and the door. To get away meant scooting along on my arse to the foot of the bed or barging her out of the way. Simple enough I suppose. But what happened then? I could get away but couldn’t avoid her for long. My Aunt Janet was staying at our house. Even if I ran, what would happen after?

I looked away from her, towards the television, the little portable showing Starsky and Hutch. The programme was popular, an instant hit in 1976. I loved it, identifying more with the character of Hutch because we were both tall and fair. I liked the leather-sleeved latter jacket he wore; and I thought his shooter was cooler than Starsky’s. Aunt Janet had interrupted my viewing by knocking at the bedroom door, walking in, and then sitting on the edge of my bed.

“I realise you’re embarrassed, Mikey,” my aunt continued. “I am, too. But I have to say something.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” I said, wishing she’d stop. Couldn’t she see I wanted to watch my programme?

Aunt Janet sighed, an exasperated sound. Then she said, “Don’t, Mikey. Don’t lie. Just let me talk. You don’t know how difficult it is for me to be here like this.” She paused and sighed again before adding, “One thing I want to get straight, this is between me and you. I want … I need you to know I won’t be talking about this to anyone. Nobody else needs to know.”

I was confused. I’d thought she was there to tell me off, to chastise me, to put me well and truly in my place so, baffled, I stammered, “I … I duh-don’t understand.”

I’d risked another glance at her face as I said it. Saw her roll her eyes and grimace. “Bloody hell,” my aunt muttered to herself. She showed signs of a temper when she continued. “Look. All right, let’s stop the nonsense, Mikey. Let’s just be honest. I promise this is solely between us. I mean it. You can be truthful. I won’t be angry.”

When I didn’t say anything, my Aunt Janet murmured, “Bloody hell. How many times…? All right, I’ll say it again. Mikey, I know you’ve been looking at me.”

The denial rose in my throat while my overheated cheeks flared even hotter.