“Beside the bed he saw a photo. He felt a quick rush of adrenalin as he tiptoed toward it”
Reece decided it was a good idea to invite the Gilligans over to meet his parents. On paper the Gilligans were the closest thing Reece had to normal friends – happily married white heterosexual couple with two kids. The Finnigeratis’ were proud Greeks and thought most non-Greeks were weird anyway, so they were ready to be underwhelmed. The dinner started well with Mr Finnigeratis looking charmed by Mr Gilligan’s basic Greek. Mrs Finnigeratis spent most the evening glaring at Mr Gilligan and twitching her bottom lip while Mrs Gilligan raved about the kitsch orthodoxy iconography. Mrs Gilligan wasn’t surprised, she expected Reece’s mother to be steely and distant. Mrs Finnigeratis could sense the close bond between her and Reece. It was not her fault Reece adored her. Although Mrs. Gilligan knew that Greek men loved no one as much as their mother. If only Greek mothers knew this innately, they wouldn’t have to test their son’s affection with mind games and drama.
By dessert (walnut cake in syrup) it struck Mr Gilligan that not only did the Finnigeratis avoid all talk of the past especially when it involved Reece, each time he probed they scoffed and pushed another dish of something toward him gesturing wildly for him eat, there was also not a single photo of Reece out on the mantel piece. There were plenty of photos mostly old women in black surrounded by fat offspring. Mr Gilligan filled everyone’s glasses until they were splashing wine on to the floor. He followed this closely by enquiring about the whereabouts of the toilet. Mr Finnigeratis pointed upwards. Mr Gilligan was up so fast Mr Finnigeratis had to shout the directions as he headed quickly toward the stairs. Mr Gilligan struggled to find the toilet. He wandered around from bedroom to bedroom baulking at the pink wallpaper that adorned each room and remarking ‘whoops wrong room’ in case anyone was watching. At the end of the corridor he found two closed doors. He knew one of them had to be the Finnigeratis’s bedroom and the other the toilet because he hadn’t come across either yet. He decided whatever room he lucked upon was the room he would enter. He flung open the door on his left. Before him was even more lashings of pink wallpaper and a bed with a purple damask fan shaped bed head. ‘Oh dear’ he remarked again continuing the charade of disorientation. Beside the bed he saw a photo. He felt a quick rush of adrenalin as he tiptoed toward it. It was a photo of three children in a gold frame. Mr. Gilligan picked it up slowly, with reverence. He dusted the glass with his knuckles. Two girls around the ages of 7 or 8 and an older boy sat on a couch together. The boy stared at the camera like it had the potential to do him harm. Who else could these children be if not the Finnigeratis children? You don’t have anyone else’s children beside your bed except your own? Mr. Gilligan considered this. He squinted and pushed his glasses to better meet his eyes. He inspected the face of a chubby boy who had thick square glasses propped ideally on his plump cheeks. Mr. Gilligan could see one of the girls shared the same jaw line as their father and the other held the same glare as the one Mrs Finnigeratis was reserving for Mrs Gilligan downstairs. Mr Gilligan studied the picture and for the life of him could not see any Reece in the boy. Mr. Gilligan needed a stronger light and there was only one place where he could find that. He crept out of the room and stood outside the remaining closed door. This time he hoped it was the toilet. Sure enough. ‘Finally’ he said aloud, amusing himself now with his overcompensation of pretence. Here to his relief was no pink wallpaper. White stucco walls instead and olive green curtains. Mr. Gilligan turned the light on and sat down on the toilet. He held the photo in front of his eyes and took the boy’s features in. There was not a single feature that resembled the Reece he knew. He wondered who else it could be if not Reece. Who was this chubby boy in the photo that should be Reece? He flushed the toilet and peered around the door to see if anyone was coming down the corridor. The coast was clear so he made his way back to the bedroom. He returned the photo to the bedside table ensuring it sat at the right angle. Mr Gilligan was not sure what came over him expect the now irresistible urge to discover what this family were hiding. He swooped like an eagle claiming prey and lifted the mattresses from bed base. Jackpot. A pile of photos. He shuffled through them quickly until he got to one that interested him. It was photo of an obese teenager in what looked liked a bespoke caftan. He had a party hat on his head. Mr. Gilligan noticed that the teenager’s cheeks were so fat he’s eyes struggled to see over the rise. Perhaps this was the chubby boy a few years later. He shuffled through more of the photos but still couldn’t see any of Reece so he went back to the obese teenager in the caftan. There was something about the teenager’s eyes. He could only see the half of them as they struggled to see over his checks. He imagined the lower half of his eyes and gradually the two halves matched in his mind. A hot flush moved from the pit of his stomach to his head. These were eyes he knew. He flipped the photo around to see if anything was written on the back and there in Greek were the words ‘Reece’s 16th birthday’. Mr. Gilligan returned to the dining table that night catatonic with smugness. Mrs. Gilligan looked at her husband and knew immediately he’d been snooping.
After a few months of being Reece’s friend I knew he was covering something up. He always hid behind the Greek thing whenever I enquired about his past. He said it was complicated and that I wouldn’t understand because it was a Greek thing. I thought this was a strange response to a straightforward question like ‘what school did you go to?’
We’d known Reece for almost 2 years before Mr. Gilligan’s uncovered the truth of Reece’s past, under the mattress that night. Naturally he held on to knowledge for as long as he could waiting for the right time to reveal it, in a scenario that would hopefully make Reece look disappointing in the eyes of his wife and he therefore less disappointing as her husband. As was usual like most of Mr Gilligan’s attempts to be the foremost thing in his wife’s mind it ended up backfiring.
He took Reece aside in Edith’s a few nights later and blackmailed him. He wanted him to spend more time with him and less time with his wife and if he had to spend time with his wife he was to comment on how fabulous Mr Gilligan was and how lucky she was to be his wife. If he didn’t do as he was told he would tell the world his secret. Mr Gilligan’s obsession with his wife stripped him of any dignity. Reece heard Mr Gilligan out which was no mean feat, the man could talk underwater. He kissed his cheek and turned to us and confessed “I was fat, there I’ve said it”
Reece didn’t make friends he made fans. If he liked you he’d pour all his love into you. He would discover what’s special about you and promote it to everyone. He was your number one fan and in return you were his. The innocence of Reece’s love was so rare it appeared sinister. Reece Finnigeratis loved every single fan with complete and utter devotion. He meant every kind word he said about you and when he promoted you he did so because he thought you were worth promoting. Just because he loved you like the next person didn’t mean he loved you any less. He knew what it was like to feel ugly and invisible once and how good it felt when someone beautiful complimented him.