Giving Up My Room
By Eva Hore
My mother had her old work friend Sarah and husband John come out to visit. They are much younger than her and only about ten years older than me. They were awarded my room downstairs, which is part of the garage, to give them some privacy. It meant I missed out on my own privacy.
I could come and go as I liked. I could have over whomever I wanted, which was fantastic. My parents didn’t know I was gay, and I was waiting for the right opportunity to tell them. Privacy was a big thing for me, so, for now, I was stuck in the study they’d converted into a bedroom.
“Why don’t you give them your room?” I asked my mother.
“Because they need their time alone. Upstairs, they’d be right next to your brother. I don’t want Adam hearing things I might have to explain.
