Like all good hurricanes, this one also took time to form and gather speed. It was pretty surreptitious about it, too.

On the surface, my grades were going up, my stomach cramps more or less disappeared (obviously as a result of my brand-new teetotal ways; so, Doc Methuselah, go screw yourself and your diagnosis), home life was quiet and the four Charles Manson puppets at school seemed to have gone into hibernation. Please excuse the rather eclectic mix of metaphors in the final clause of the last sentence, but the dissonance supports the message beautifully in my eyes.

Anyway, neither Peter nor Henry reported any incidents. Instead, Henry had officially come out of the closet with our friends now as well. None of them made a big deal out of it, much to Henry's relief, who had again worried about nothing. It had taken him a gigantic amount of courage - and a whole lot of being kicked in the arse by muggins here - to go through with it, but after the "big revelation" he had grabbed hold of me so hard he had nearly broken my ribs.

"You are the best thing that's ever happened to me, Cat. I've worried about this for so many years, hated myself for such a long time, tried to change who I am, wrestled with myself, wasted most of my energy on covering up my true self for basically as long as I can remember– until you came along and gently prodded me to just be who I am and to be proud of who I am. And it turns out that what I thought was an issue the size of a nuclear bomb is really just the size of a water balloon at a kid's birthday party. Thank you so much."

Of course, not everything was roses and sunshine. One morning, before I even had the chance to sit down at the breakfast table, my mother, who had been carefully distanced and non-critical of me (if you discount the rather frequent eye rolling, grimaces and almost hostile-sounding use of my proper given name 'Katherine' whenever she addressed me) walked up to me, right into my personal space, and demanded, "Are you a lesbian, Katherine?"

"Wow, wow, wow, mother, I love your sensitive approach," I answered in my usual disrespectful and sarcastic way. It always served as a great distraction from whatever it was that she wanted to discuss. Inexplicably, this time my mother ignored it.

"Well, are you?" Her nose nearly touched mine now.

"What difference would it make?" I didn't budge.

"I am asking you one last time, little lady! Are you a homosexual like this deplorable little buddy of yours or not? Everybody is talking about it."

Her words came out so forcefully that I was sure I felt some of her spit hit my face. I still didn't budge, but my blood started to boil.

"I wouldn't totally rule it out," I smirked.

My mother's face went bright red. She threw her hands in the air and whirled away from me.

Just then my father entered the room.

"What is going on here?" He looked from my mother to me questioningly.

"Well, apart from the fact that your lovely Cat is now appropriately a kitten puncher on top of being crazy, socially-challenged and the epitome of a beauty ideal of a parallel universe, she is a real bundle of joy. I've got to go to work."

With that, she stormed out of the room, grabbed her bag and slammed the front door shut behind her.

My father's chin hit the kitchen floor at the same time. He stared out of the window silently and watched my mother's Merc screech out of the driveway. Then he seemed to gather himself and turned to me.

"Jesus, Cat, I am so sorry about that. Your mother was way out of line. I don't know what to say."

I sighed.

"There really is nothing to say, Dad. I'm just sorry that I am such a disappointment."

In two quick strides, my father reached me and put his arms around my shoulders.

"You are no disappointment to me, Cat. You are no disappointment to Emma, either. I can't speak for your mother, but I am sure that you are no disappointment to her, either. She wants the best for you. I know that. But I can't deny that she has a very unique and very inacceptable way of trying to achieve this. She also has her own demons. She struggles with anything that doesn't fit her extremely narrow view of the world."

He gave me a big squeeze. "And for what it's worth, I love you the way you are, irrespective of your sexual orientation. Your mum will come around, too, eventually."

I looked up at my father and grinned. Then I burst out laughing.

"This is so typically Shelley, we should consider writing a textbook about dysfunctional upper-middle-class families."

"I don't understand." My dad looked quite bewildered.

"You have a friend who is a vegetarian. Does this make you a vegetarian, Dad? Goodness me, why on earth would anyone assume I'm homosexual, just because I'm friends with one? Are homosexuals exclusively friends with other homosexuals? Man, in an age where there are more different types of sexual orientations than ice cream flavours that would make finding friends not only really awkward, but next to impossible."

I raised my voice to a little squeak. "Look, you are a very nice person. I always wanted to have a friend like you, but I am a sapiosexual, while you identify as demisexual. A friendship like this can never work. Sorry!"

My father started laughing, too. "Sapiosexual? Demisexual? You are making this up, aren't you?"

"Good God, Dad, you don't know these terms? Do you know the term 'genderqueer' at least? No? What century are you living in? You obviously need a system update."

* * * * *

Somehow, my mother's attitude had not shaken me as much as I would have thought. She had shaken me so many times that it would have taken a tsunami of her narrow-mindedness to affect me these days. What shook me, though, was my mother's announcement that Henry was the talk of the day. His friends had no problem with his sexual orientation, his mother was okay with it, and even his stepfather seemed to have accepted it. Despite having witnessed my mother's hypocrisy and bigotry more than once, I hadn't believed that there could truly be a problem. After all, we had come a long way since the Middle Ages. Or had we?

I wrestled with the question whether to warn Henry that what should be a very private matter seemed to have become news of the world in the upper echelon of our local community. Coming out and facing the world as the true Henry had cost him so much, but it had also been an extremely rewarding experience for him. He was flying high, and he deserved it. I wanted this high to last for him - for as long as possible.

What I didn't want for him, was to be blindsided by some bigoted and righteous arsehole, quoting the Holy Bible at him or some such rubbish.

So, what to do? Was my mother even telling me the truth? Or was she greatly exaggerating, upset because I was blatantly ignoring her wish to cut ties with Henry?

I decided to look on the internet for answers, and then wished I hadn't. I seriously hadn't known how much hatred existed in our world, and I had definitely not known how twisted and sick and vile some people could be in their hatred. Indiscriminate hatred against seemingly random groups of people, migrants, women, the unemployed, different religious denominations, and what we now call the LGBTQ+ community, just to name a few.

Don't get me wrong. I do value the freedom of speech that living in a democracy guarantees. I don't even have a problem with people who voice controversial opinions. In fact, I find it deeply disturbing that in the name of moral righteousness open debate and animated discussions are often thwarted. The terms 'racist' and 'bigot', which you might have noticed come across my own lips easily sometimes, should never be used to stop conversation. I am perfectly willing to enter into conversation with anyone who is willing to discuss issues without becoming personal or violent. That is the only way a society can grow.

And, yes, it is okay to disagree or agree with abortion, to disagree or agree with various systems of health care - and even to feel very strongly about these things, because these things speak to social and political ideas which can be changed and tweaked and, through controversial debate, hopefully, be improved.

And, yes, it is even okay to have certain attitudes towards women, the LGBTQ+ community or disabled people. I would sit down with anybody who believes women are weak and should be limited to the kitchen and to raising kids. I would actually look forward to this discussion – as long as a certain level of mutual respect is observed. The same goes for any other group of people.

The opinions I saw expressed in the anonymity of some weird forums, however, were so shocking that I nearly flung the bloody computer out the window. Since then, the internet has evolved, society has changed – and not in a good way, I might add. Social networking is a blessing and a curse at the same time. The hatred I came across all those years ago has now intensified and become even more violent in its expression.

Well, this is a different story altogether. Sorry for the detour.

Anyway, as I said, after I had read about yet somebody else who prayed for all gay men's dicks to fall off, to reference one of the nicer messages, I turned the stupid computer off and made an executive decision. If that was the society we lived in, I had to warn Henry.

Heart in my mouth, I rang his bell and followed him up to his bedroom with a gloomy expression on my face.

Henry, observant as always, realised straightaway that something was wrong.

"I don't know how to start, Henry. I feel terrible. Maybe I gave you the wrong advice, and now it's you who's got to live with the consequences."

"What advice are you talking about, Cat?" Henry asked mildly.

"Coming out."

"What are you talking about? I already told you. It was the best advice and arse-kicking of my life. I'd never have thought that people would just take it in stride like they did. I'll be eternally grateful to you, Cat."

"That's what I mean. I feel awful. My mother said... she said..."

"Don't worry about your mother. I didn't really expect her to understand. No offence."

I took a deep breath.

"It's not just my mother. She said you are the talk of the town, and not in a good way, judging by the way she conveyed the message. Just be prepared. I'm a little worried that things could get ugly."

Henry grabbed my hand.

"All the people I care about have accepted it. That's all anyone can ask. I'm flattered that you are worried about me, but don't lose any sleep over it, sweetheart. Remember when I told you not to put too much weight on your looks."

He flinched when I punched him; then grinned. "Excuse the pun, Cat. Totally unintended, but pretty good, you must admit."

Suddenly, I had to grin, too. I had just realised that I was able to laugh at a joke about my figure. It made me feel a million pounds lighter. This time, folks, the pun is intended.

Henry became serious again. "Remember when I told you that there will always be people who have a problem with you, for whatever reason. But as long as you have some good people in your corner, it doesn't matter. I stand by what I said, even when it applies to me. Let the old busybodies have a good time gossiping about my depraved lifestyle. I honestly don't care."

I must have looked unconvinced because he gave me a squeeze and said, "I'll be fine, honestly. Whatever happens, I won't ever regret listening to you, I swear."

That was that. The rest of the time, we more or less talked about my mother's latest statements and the stylistic devices she employed to enhance effect. Henry was outraged, not so much at her attitude towards him but at the way she treated me. He also expressed worry about me, about the way I was dealing with this kind of motherly affection.

"Don't worry, Henry. I'll be fine," it was my turn to say. "It did hurt, I won't deny that. But I am used to it by now. Dad and Emma are great, though. I know it's early days, but there is a bond growing between us that has never been there before. Who cares what my mother says?"