‘Aahhh, that’s going a bit far now, Orla,’ he protested. He liked his casually tossed blond shaggy look.
‘OK then, but let me blow-dry it and part it at the side.’
‘Orlaaaaaaaaaa! A side parting, noooooooooo!’
‘You can’t look gay,’ she protested.
‘But I am gay!’ he pointed out.
‘I need you to be a manly man, just for one night,’ she’d pouted. ‘Pleaseeeeee.’
‘Do with me what you will!’ Jonathan had said resignedly and laughed when his friend flung her arms around him.
They had planned to hit the nightclub that weekend but fortunately for him Orla’s period had arrived unexpectedly early and she was flattened with a migraine and, big no-no, her chin had erupted with three large spots. Not a good look to make an ex jealous, she’d informed Jonathan glumly before trudging upstairs to get something to eat, and take to the bed.
He might take to the bed himself, Jonathan yawned. He needed to get in the right frame of mind for his course tomorrow. Today had been a tough day at work, and he still felt shaky after a run-in with Gerard, but at least he’d stood up for himself and let his obnoxious boss know that he was no longer prepared to be bullied.
He took the small notebook out of his pocket and flipped open the cover. Beneath the date and time that he had written in neatly were the words: My grade 4, Gerard Hook, called me a shirt-lifter in public in the staff canteen, while I was on my tea break. My colleague Gwen Reilly was a witness and is prepared to verify my complaint.
Jonathan reread the sentences. He would make a stand if he had to, but hopefully, Hook would tone it down now that he was aware that Jonathan wasn’t prepared to take his odious guff any more.
It didn’t get any easier. He’d had to stand his ground many times at school, and as a teenager and young adult, but today marked another turning point on his journey. Gwen had been laughing uproariously at one of his witticisms when he’d heard Gerard say in his raspy growl, ‘Hey, you!’
Jonathan felt his stomach tie itself in knots but he ignored the other man, who had never used his first name since he’d started in the office.
‘You! I’m talking to you,’ Gerard said irately.
‘I think he’s talking to you, Jon,’ Gwen murmured.
‘I’m not answering to “you”. I have a name!’ Jonathan kept his back resolutely to his boss who was sitting at the table behind him.
The next minute Gerard was standing beside them.
‘You lot are here more than fifteen minutes. Get back to your desks. What do you mean by ignoring me when I’m speaking to you?’
‘Oh!’ said Jonathan politely. ‘I didn’t hear my name being called. What can I do for you, Mr Hook?’
‘Don’t get smart with me, you little shirt-lifter.’ Gerard was so incensed he was almost spitting.
The hum of chatter at their table had ceased and all eyes were on Jonathan. A strange calm descended on him and he took a small notebook he carried out of his pocket. Very slowly and deliberately he opened it to a blank page, looked at his watch, wrote down the time and date and began to write.
‘What are you writing in that?’ Gerard blustered, realizing he had overstepped the mark.
‘I am writing down the time and date, and your gratuitous insult, Mr Hook, and if you persist in your bullying and disrespectful behaviour, I will be reporting you to the Personnel Department and may take the matter to my solicitor.’ He stood up and with his head held high left the canteen and made for the men’s loos. Once behind the relative privacy of a cubicle door he let the hot tears flow silently and tried hard to smother his sobs so that no one would know that he was crying. Many times he had cried silent tears; he would cry many more, he suspected. But he would never allow himself to be abused and bullied again. Thanks to his counsellor Hannah, he was working through the trauma of his childhood sexual abuse at the hands of his neighbour all those years ago.
He would make an appointment to see her soon and speak to her of today’s events. It would be interesting to see if this bully would continue his bullying, Jonathan mused as he moseyed into the small kitchenette and took the bottle of Chardonnay from the fridge. Gerard Hook was a typical playground bully. Jonathan had fought them many times before, often coming home with a black eye or a bloodied nose, much to his mother’s dismay. Although she never brought up the subject, Jonathan knew that his mother knew and accepted that he was gay. It was a comfort to him that the subject had never come up for discussion. It was no big deal, as it should not be. He was Jonathan, her son, and that was all that mattered. He wondered would the day ever come when he would be accepted in society for who he was as a person, irrespective of his sexuality.
He poured himself a glass of wine and took a big notebook from his work shelf. He flicked through his notes on colour temperature and colour rendering and how important they were for commercial lighting. Office lighting was generally low-energy fluorescent in cool white. He hated the white strip lights in the office with a vengeance, with their irritating hum and constant flicker. He was more interested in domestic lighting, and especially how lamps, uplighters and downlighters could create a warm and cosy ambience. He always felt he’d achieved something when he persuaded his growing list of clients to change from harsh central lighting to diffused glows around
