“But there was a problem. Not with me — so I thought at the time! Oh, no, not with me! — but with everybody else. Almost everybody. See he was working class. He didn't have a fancy education. He had the wrong fucking accent.” Jason couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice. “My fucking parents made that 100 per cent plain when I took him home. They fucking humiliated him. In front of me.”
“What didja do?” asked Keith.
“Not enough. I should've told them to get thoroughly fucked. I should have taken Brent out of there right off, just left, and never gone back. But I just couldn't fucking believe it. I couldn't. They were my parents and … they should have loved me. They should've … they should have accepted that I loved him. That he made me happy.”
Once again, Jason couldn't go on speaking. Luigi and Keith both produced a handkerchief. Luigi's was impeccably laundered and folded, and unused. Keith's was a tatty crumpled ball. The contrast made Jason grin. Instead of taking one he shook his head. He was able to continue.
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