Twenty-Four
Such a big day were Sundays. So many things happening. Before the phone call with Zelda, Bettina had to handle breakfast with her two men, lunch with her two children, afternoon tea with three of the relatives who wanted her to explain what on earth it meant that their gay dear one was getting married (and, it turned out, the fact that he was gay). The hardest part of the day was her eldest, at the door on the way out from lunch. He didn’t want to see the relatives and he wanted time with her.
“I thought now,” he complained, “but they’re invading in an hour. And I hate them.”
“They’re being better than we ever thought they would.”
“Some of them are, but that’s not good enough. It’s as if they’re doing us a huge favour by not hating Dad for being who he’s always been. I can
