Free Anything Goes by John Barrowman; Carole E. Barrowman Page B

and frank in how they approached the issue with their children. They raised Carole, Andrew and me with the knowledge that we were valued human beings, loved completely and unconditionally, and nothing we’d do would ever be so bad that we couldn’t come home. When the time came and I needed to say the words ‘I’m gay’ aloud, I flew home to my family to say them.
    It was 1992 and I was playing Raoul in Andrew Lloyd Webber’s The Phantom of the Opera in London’s West End. I was ill. I had a persistent cough, a low-grade fever, and stomach cramps twisting my gut every few hours. I’d been sexually active. I panicked and feared the worst. I headed home to America to face up to the truth. My parents and I sat at the kitchen table and with very little preamble I said, ‘I’m gay and I need an HIV test.’
    I then told them that no matter what happened, I knew I was going to do great things with my life and I hoped they’d continue to be an important part of the journey I was on. However, if they couldn’t accept that I was gay, I would leave and do it all without them.
    My dad was quiet for barely a beat. He looked at my mum, who was still reeling a bit from the HIV part of the statement, and thenhe leaned forward and said, ‘John, honestly, it’s none of my business what you do in your bedroom, just as it’s none of yours what we do in ours, but I have to say that we’re hurt you’d think that because you’re gay we’d not want to be part of your life anymore.’
    That night, we went out to dinner and they both admitted that my news had not really been a revelation. The next day, I had an HIV test. As the doctor was a family friend, he put a rush on the results. Nonetheless, the wait was interminable. Sheer panic kept me from sleeping more than a couple of hours at a time and dread was a brick sitting in the pit of my stomach.
    While I waited for news, I travelled north to Milwaukee to visit Carole and Kevin, and to spend some time with Clare and Turner, then aged five and two. They had just moved house and the rooms were filled more with boxes than with furniture. I stayed the whole day and played hide-and-seek and kick the can, then Clare, Turner and I made forts with the boxes, and to round off the fun we ate pizza sitting on the floor.
    I briefly explained to Carole and Kevin that I was home because I was sick. I told them I was having some tests, although I didn’t elaborate as to what kind of tests or why. I withheld this information, in part, because it was clear to me that they really already knew. The other reason was that Clare and Turner wouldn’t leave my side for a minute and there was no opportunity for any real discussion. When I left, I promised to call with the results.
    During the long wait, I also phoned my brother, who was at a business seminar, and had a similar conversation with him to the one I’d had with my mum and dad. Like them, Andrew’s response was very much: ‘It doesn’t change anything.’
    Ultimately, the test came back negative for HIV. I did, though, have a gastric infection and a chest infection, and both were working together to create my general exhaustion. I called Carole and toldher I was going to be fine. Then I admitted what the test had really been for, and the reason I’d been so worried about contracting the virus. Her response was pretty much, ‘Ho hum – and what else is new?’ It seems all my family knew I was gay before I told them – so much for my bombshell news.
    The next day, I flew back to London in time for the following evening’s performance of Phantom. Those few days of sheer panic taught me a tough but valuable lesson – and not just about practising safe sex. It was one of those moments in my life when I realized information and awareness can save lives, and everyone should have equal access. I began my association with a number of AIDS/HIV charities at that time, and I continue to be an advocate for Theatre Cares, the Terrence Higgins