Chapter 7

As soon as I make it back to my dorm room, I collapse onto my bed. I still have almost the entire assignment to do, I only got a little bit done in the end. I stay up all night doing research for it, using my caffeinated tea supply to keep me awake.

Like 7 hours of intensive work later, it resembles something vaguely decent. I decide I can finally go to sleep, and go over it again in the morning. Except I sleep for practically 12 hours straight, and miss my lecture the next morning.

Fuck my life.

Well, at least I handed in something, I did my best with it anyway. My phone pings, and I find myself disappointed when I see that it’s from my mother. Whether that’s because I was hoping it was Beck, or because it was just my mother and I hate talking to her, we’ll never know.

That’s too mean, I don’t hate talking to her, I just…really don’t like it. Or her. Except I can’t evade it now. My mother always texts me before she calls, so that I can’t say ‘I wasn’t expecting your call, I’m busy’ because yes, I am expected to drop everything if my mother decides to call me.

Sighing defeatedly, I pick up my phone, accepting the inevitable call. “Hello mother,” I try to sound cheery, but even I can hear the exhaustion in my own voice. “Griffin. You’re coming home for dinner today at 7. We expect you here two hours early so you can play the piano for us. See you later.”

And that’s that. How it always goes. My mother isn’t the…friendliest of people. Sighing again, I quickly text Beck.

Griffin🦅: sorry can’t play tonight

Rebecca🌸: No worries :) are you still busy with the assignment?

Griffin🦅: I wish lol

Griffin🦅: no I have to go to my parents’ house

Rebecca🌸: That sounds nice though?

Rebecca🌸: I hope you have a nice time anyway :)

Griffin🦅: thanks :/

Griffin🦅: I don’t really get on with my mother but my dad is fine

Rebecca🌸: Oh I’m sorry. I hope it goes ok then

Rebecca🌸: I’m here to send you cat pics at random points throughout the evening if you’d like

I stare at my phone for a moment before bursting out laughing. “Aw! He’s so adorable.” Sending him a quick thanks, I start rootling through my wardrobe to find something respectable to wear. My mother will flip out if I show up in a flannel and jeans.

Finding a smart shirt and some fancy trousers, I have a quick shower and sort out my hair so I don’t show up at my parents’ house with the ever so fashionable bird’s nest look going on. By the time I’m dressed and everything, I only have an hour and a half before I need to leave, so I head down to the music department.

If my mother is going to make me play the piano for her like some kind of circus monkey, I’d better at least not embarrass myself. I spend the whole hour and a half practicing until my wrists hurt, and decide it’s time to go encounter my fate.

I take the bus as usual to the posh part of the city. I hate it here, everyone is so stuck up, and just like my mother. Snobby. Rude. Superior. I fix my clothes once more before going up to the gates and pressing the buzzer for someone to let me in.

Discomfort prickles all over my skin as I walk through the halls until I find the living room, where my parents are lounging around. “Griffy!” My dad exclaims, jumping from his seat and wrapping me up in a firm embrace.

I smile, hugging him back. He’s a bit much for me, but he’s a nice guy and we get along well. My mother is the problem here. She doesn’t even stand up to greet me, or make any kind of move to hug me like my dad did.

Instead, she merely sends a pointed look at a different door. “I hope you’ve been practicing, you’ll need to be actually good for this party.” I ignore my mother’s comments on my skill, before freezing.

“What? What are you talking about?” I ask, turning to my dad, knowing that if I want an answer, he’s the one who’ll be the most likely to give it to me. He looks over at his wife nervously, before back at me.

“She didn’t tell you earlier? Oh well. Dahlia, it’s your event, you explain it to him,” he says in exasperation, and I already know enough to tell that my dad isn’t a fan of whatever this is she’s planned.

She tucks her hair neatly behind her ear, smoothing down the silk of her blouse. “Well, I have a friend. Her family owns a large clothing brand here in the city, and she has a son a little older than you. He also chooses to date men, so we decided that you two should be a couple.”

I stare awestruck at my mother. There’s so many things wrong with what she just said, I really have no idea where to start addressing it. My dad sighs again, going over to sit next to his wife. “Dahlia, we’ve already been through this, Griffin doesn’t choose to be gay, he is gay. It isn’t something he decided. Also, Griffy, we aren’t forcing you to date anyone.”

I let out a little puff at air, glad that my dad is here. “It’s just a party, there will be a lot of our friends there, as well as some mutuals of your mother’s friend, the one with the son. We aren’t making you date anyone, and your mother’s friend isn’t making her son date someone he doesn’t want to either. It’s just a party so you two have the chance to get to know each other.”

Excuse me, are we back in the victorian era or something? What happened to going on a date with someone, hell, with talking to someone to get to know each other? What’s the point of this whole damn thing?!

And what about Beck?

Sure, we aren’t a couple or anything, but I genuinely want to go on this date with him, and if we get on, I might be open to the idea of a relationship. I don’t want to date some pompous bastard- and he’s definitely a pompous bastard if his mother is friends with mine.

Sighing again, I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I’m not coming to this party. I’m already seeing someone, I don’t need to go to this.” My mother glares at me with disdain, whilst my dad looks slightly excited for me.

“Really? You have a boyfriend? When did this happen?” He asks, but I shake my head. “We aren’t a couple yet, just have some plans for dates. Anyway, you mentioned the piano - how does music come in to this?” I ask, desperately trying to change the topic.

My mother huffs, placing her hands delicately over her crossed knees. “Well, it’s the only thing you’re half decent at. You may have neglected your talent for too long, but that stops now. You should start practicing properly, so that at this party, you can show that you’re not just…a boy.”

Jesus Christ it’s like she’s trying to sell me off or something! And she said the thing I hate the most- talent. I wasn’t born with some innate musical power, I just played the piano for three hours every fucking day since I was a child, sometimes I’d practice for even longer.

It’s true that some people are naturally more musical, but music is a wonderful example of hard work beating talent. My mother knows I hate it when people call my music ‘talent’ but she does it anyway, because she thinks I never worked hard enough at my music.

Others may call me a music prodigy, but in my mother’s eyes, I will always be a wasted effort.