Derk started to wake up a bit at last. The cold shower freshened up his groggy head. He wasn’t used to drinking much alcohol, on account of all his sport. So pushing the boat out last night was taking its toll this morning. He had been to the ‘Don’t tell Mum’ party at Unitas with Jelle, and had really let rip. Now he was amazed to see a stream of orange colour running down the drain. The theme of the party was ‘I got stuck in a fairy tale’ and Jelle – who went as Aladdin – had persuaded him to go as Puss-in-Boots. Apparently he hadn’t bothered to remove his face paint last night.
Still in his dressing gown, Derk went into the kitchen, where the smell of Willem Jan’s deep-frying session still hung in the air. With a sigh he shoved the fryer, dirty plates and open jar of mayonnaise to one side and started making breakfast. Luckily he was free this morning. That was not the case for Jelle but to Derk’s surprise he had woken up to find him still beside him in bed. He had probably slept through his alarm.
Derk could not suppress a smile. It really was a bit of a fairy tale, he thought. He had been with Jelle for the best part of two months now, and nearly everyone had accepted him. Armed with a large cup of coffee, a glass of orange juice and two toasted sandwiches, he went back to the bedroom. Let’s see how Jelle is, he thought.
Jelle was sitting up in bed looking at his mobile phone. ‘Look what I’ve got for you: your morning medication,’ said Derk, passing him his breakfast. ‘Thanks! You are the best,’ said Jelle.
Then he asked, in a more serious tone, ‘Derk, have you told your parents yet, actually, that you fancy men?’ Seeing Derk’s puzzled look, Jelle passed him his mobile. On the screen was a photo of Jelle and him kissing at the Don’t tell Mum party. He was tagged. The very first comment jumped out at him: ‘Derk, what on earth is this?! We really must talk!’ From: his mum.