

Mom, I'm Gay

By Rebecca Flannery

Copyright 2013 Rebecca Flannery

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

Thank you for downloading this free ebook. Although this is a free book, it remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy at Smashwords.com. Thank you for your support.

Although my childbearing days are over, about five years ago, I decided to have another type of "baby." I needed to fill some of the empty time my summers off as a teacher provided, and I started writing. I worked on it each summer and before I knew it, this book had sprung out of me. It grew as I edited and added to it, with less work than my own two children had required, and much better able to sit silently during the times I did not tend to it. As I share this book with others, it's kind of like the first day of kindergarten. It can be hard to watch but it's time to let go!

This story is written to provide inspiration and encouragement for anyone who cares about acceptance. The characters and story are a work of fiction created from my imagination, but I have tried to write it in a way that will ring true. While the main character, Mara, absolutely accepts her son, her methods are not always the best. She is not accepting about everything, and she has some challenges in her personal life. Mara will work through some of them in this story, but others will not be addressed until the next chapter of her life is written.

My support for writing this book has come from my faith, my husband, my family, and my friends. I thank you all for your encouragement, acceptance, and feedback. My motivation is to promote acceptance for others who might be dealing with this subject. It is not meant to offend, just to offer a view that might be different from your own experience. If, after you read it, you are so moved, please consider making a donation to the Human Rights Campaign, Reconciling Ministries, or another organization that promotes acceptance.

## Chapter 1

One look at Jonathan's face when I walked in the front door made me realize that something had happened. Was I prepared for what he told me? Looking back on it now, I had definitely considered the possibility, but I had never imagined the actual finding out part.... never really thought through what it would be like when he told me. And now it was happening, in bold, permanent marker colors that would never be erased.

"I'm sorry, Mom," he said as soon as our eyes met. "This isn't how I planned to tell you. But I have no choice now." Large tears rolled out from my handsome son's deep brown eyes and made a trail down his tanned face. I knew whatever he was about to tell me was very big – at least in his world. Although Jonathan had always been sensitive, I hadn't seen him cry since he was thirteen years old. That was when his closest friend in the world moved away. My mind quickly went to the day Andrea, with whom he had played nearly everyday since he was old enough to play, had moved. Just as quickly, I came back to the present.

I put the grocery bag that was in my arms down on the chair in the foyer where we stood, and my purse slid off my shoulder, hitting the floor with a thud. I reached out to hug him. At first, he moved back, as if to pull away, but then he let me hold him and more tears came. He's much taller than I am, and as I caught our reflection in the mirror, I thought what an awkward scene we made as he slumped to let his head rest on my shoulder. "What is it?" I asked my only son, wanting to take his pain away.

Jonathan pulled back a little and looked straight into my eyes. He hesitated a moment, took a deep breath. "Mom, I'm gay." Three small words, but he spoke them with so much force that I could almost see the weight come off his shoulders. He stood up straighter and the tears were no longer coming, as he waited for my reaction.

I stood there, looking into his face, but I didn't react at all. Mentally, my mind flashed through many events that had occurred over the years, events that had caused me to consider, indeed, that my son might be gay. He'd grown up without a dad; my husband, his father, had died in an automobile accident when Jonathan was only five years old. Since then, there had never been any other real father figure in his life. Of course, I knew that many boys grow up without a father and aren't gay, and others grow up with a father and are gay, but on the occasions I allowed myself to consider that Jonathan might be gay, this was something that came to mind. Because of our family situation, there were few men in his life. I rarely dated; I had no brothers, and neither had Dick. Most of our couple friends had stopped visiting soon after Dick had died – and even I had to admit it had felt awkward for them to visit without Dick there anymore. There simply hadn't been many men in our home since Dick. Did I really think that could cause my son to be gay? Not really, but it was something I wished was different. Of course, Patrick, who had introduced Dick and me, had always kept in touch and visited, but he had certainly never been a father figure...or had he?

Other thoughts crossed my mind. Growing up, Jonathan never has had many male friends, but he's always had a large circle of female friends. In nursery school, even before Dick's death, then in kindergarten, and actually, all the way through school, most of his favorite playmates had been girls, especially Andrea. Growing up, he was about as interested in football and other "manly" sports as I was. He preferred the kind of sports that were more individual and didn't have teams.

There were some other observations I had made that had caused me to wonder. He is always the first one out of the locker room after his track and cross-country meets, and many times, he waited to shower at home. I'd never asked him about it, never made an issue of it, but I had known something about it made him uncomfortable. And now at eighteen, he's never had a girlfriend, yet he still has lots of friends who are girls. He doesn't date, but seems to go out in groups, and as a senior in high school, he is going to his very first prom, and this one only because one of the girls had begged him to go with her, insisting that they would go "as friends." I know these things are not the way it is for most eighteen year olds. He is very handsome, and that's not just my opinion as his mother; he's tall with a lean build and a beautiful head of dark brown hair that he wears slightly longer than the current style.

Right now, Jon is waiting for my reaction, but I am thinking about all of these things, and I still haven't shown any reaction to those three small words as my mind continues wandering through other events that have made me wonder over the years. I remember a conversation I'd had with a friend back when Jonathan was in eighth grade. I had actually told her that I suspected he might be gay...I don't remember saying it as a negative thing, but I just stated that I thought he might be. Cathy's eyes had grown wide, and she began asking me all sorts of questions that I realized I wasn't ready to discuss, and I quickly changed the subject. During subsequent visits, she had tried to bring it up a few more times, but I always switched to another topic, and we began to drift apart after that. I hadn't mentioned it to anyone else since, although I definitely thought about it. I don't know why I've never said anything to my sister, but for some reason, I never have, even though it was on my mind many times when we talked.

Just a few weeks ago, Jonathan had been talking to his sister, Gabby, on instant messenger, and had called me in to read something funny that she had written. He left the room to get a snack, and for some reason, after I read Gabby's message, I brought the cursor to the top of the screen and clicked on the drop-down list of recently visited sites. I can't pretend I was shocked that a few of them clearly offered gay and lesbian support. I quickly went back to Gabby's e-mail, and Jonathan came back to his room. I wanted to ask him about it, but I just hadn't. And then I managed to keep myself extra busy so I wouldn't have time to think any more about it. So the truth was, I knew, but I hadn't ever broached the subject with him, and now he was telling me.

My thoughts continue wandering for several minutes, but I still haven't said one word. As I came back to the present, I knew I should be saying something, but at the moment, I wasn't feeling any particular emotion. There are certainly worse things a son could tell his mother. He wasn't telling me he had problems with drugs or alcohol, or that he wasn't going to graduate from high school. He was only telling me what I already knew deep inside, but had never talked over with him, and had really never allowed my mind to ponder. And now, as he waited for my response, it became clear to me that I had been very unfair to him. I began feeling such incredible regret that I had never brought up the subject. My silence was making him uncomfortable, and he began talking again, before I had said anything. He spoke more naturally now, and I continued to sense that by telling me, it felt like a heavy weight had been taken off his chest.

"Mom, I had always planned to tell you. I just never knew how and the time always seemed wrong. Gabby and I have talked about it; in fact, she wanted to be here with me when I told you. But all those plans mean nothing now because I had to tell you. I was forced by the events of the day."

My face finally reacted, and it must have formed a question mark. I really didn't comprehend what he was saying this time, and I asked three questions all at once, rather incoherently, and Jonathan misunderstood what I meant as I uttered, "Gabby? Why? What events?"

Gabby is nearly five years older than Jonathan. They are close, and I wasn't surprised that he had told her. She was a wonderful older sister to him, and I was sure she had been supportive. I wondered what she had to do with 'the events of the day.' Jonathan must have thought I wanted to know why he had already told her and he began to tell me about that conversation.

"You know how Gabby and I have always been...we've always been able to talk about anything. When she came home at Thanksgiving from her freshman year at college, we stayed up one night for a marathon catch-up talk. She was all hot for this guy in one of her classes, and she couldn't stop talking about him. She kept saying, 'Do you know what it's like to have this wild crush on someone, and that person doesn't even know you exist?' I really hadn't even thought about telling her before that, but after she asked me that for the third time, I told her that I definitely knew what that was like...."

I shook my head no. Was it because I was unprepared to hear what he was saying about knowing what it's like to want someone who doesn't know you exist? Or did I really just want to know what 'events' had caused him to choose this moment to tell me? Mentally, I realized he had been in eighth grade when that conversation had taken place, but aloud I said, "I wasn't asking why you told Gabby. I'm glad you did! What are you trying to tell me about 'the events of the day?' Have you spoken to Gabby today?" That thought caused me concern, since Gabby was in Canada, in graduate school at McGill University, and we always spoke to her on Sunday afternoons. It had been a family ritual since her freshman year of college. But Jonathan was shaking his head.

"Talk to Gabby today? No, but I sure wish I could speak to her right now! This day has been a little more than I can handle.... Can we go sit down before I dump all this on you, Mom? And I have to tell you, your reaction to my coming out has been rather anti-climactic. When I think of all the worrying I've done about it, I thought we'd have to call the paramedics to revive you, or you'd start crying or something..."

I mumbled a short response, something like an apology, but I didn't say much because it was clear that Jonathan had much more to tell me. I followed him into the living room, and we both sat on the couch, not side by side, but facing each other, our knees nearly touching as each of us pulled our feet up underneath. We didn't use our living room often, and it felt odd to be sitting in here together. The room was more formal than the rest of the house, and it always had a more sterile feel to it because we were in it so infrequently. It was still light enough outside that the room wasn't dark, but a sort of early evening haze filled it as Jonathan began to tell me about the afternoon that had caused him to tell me he was gay on this particular spring day.

## Chapter 2

His telling was painstakingly slow, as he tried to make sense out of it himself, but I resisted the urge to hurry him. He had gotten up late, around 11:30; after all this was his spring break and we were staying home this year. Instead of taking a vacation now, we were planning to drive up to Toronto right after he finished his finals to bring Gabby back for his high school graduation. Janey, one of his friends, had called him to see if he'd go to the mall with her, but he'd told her he was just going to stay home and mess around on the computer - do some research for his senior essay, and try to catch up on his email. And that was what he had planned to do. He said he had found some really good material on both the positive and negative psychological effects of video games in children, which was the topic of his senior essay. He was taking notes on an article when the doorbell rang.

He hadn't showered or changed yet, and was dressed only in his boxers, which he always sleeps in. (I couldn't imagine why he was telling me what he was wearing, but I didn't interrupt to ask him.) When he opened the door, he was quite surprised to see Lily Becker standing at the door. Lily is an acquaintance of mine who from time to time, appears at my front door for a visit. She is an attractive woman with a gorgeous figure. She seems to have a perpetual tan, and has short, dark hair styled in a manner that only she could wear. Her resemblance to Halley Berry is strong. She could easily pass as being in her early thirties, but she's ten years older than that. Lily seems to think that because she is divorced and I am a widow, we automatically have a connection. I met her about three years ago at one of those gourmet kitchen utensil parties. She has one son, several years younger than Jonathan, who spends half of every week with his father, and she doesn't work. She seems unaware that most of the people in this world do work, and she has a habit of showing up unannounced at unusual times. Although I've never treated her rudely, I've never encouraged her visits, either. Frankly, I never felt we had much in common, other than being unmarried. Jonathan continued telling me how he answered the door....

"Mrs. Becker! My mom isn't here...she's at the office." Jonathan said he stood in the front doorway without fully opening the door, hoping she would just leave. He always referred to her as my "flaky" friend, one he'd rather avoid.

"Oh, really? Is she at the real estate office?" I am a realtor, so it was a good guess on her part.

"That's right," Jonathan told her. When she didn't make an effort to leave, he said, "Do you need to talk to her? I can give you the telephone number to her office."

"Well, Jonathan, do you mind if I come in?" Lily hadn't waited for him to answer; she just pushed the door open, walked right past him and into the house.

Lily kept right on talking, as she went into the house. She's the kind of person who doesn't seem to read messages from those she's around very well; probably one of the reasons Jonathan considered her a flake. "Actually, Jonathan, I came over because I wanted to ask your mother's opinion about something. But since she's not here, I guess I'll ask you. In fact, I think I'd rather have your opinion anyway, since I just wasn't sure that this was too young for me. Who would be a better judge of that than a handsome young man like you?"

Jonathan had no idea what she was talking about. He just looked at Lily, who didn't look back at him. She had walked through the foyer and into the kitchen as she spoke. She was in the family room now, and as she tossed her handbag on the couch, she twirled around and said, "How do you like the outfit, Jonathan? I just can't make my mind up if it's right for me."

"It looks nice, Mrs. Becker. But my mom's a much better judge of women's stuff than I am."

"Oh, you can call me Lily. You haven't seen it all yet, Jonathan. There's more, and I really want to know what you think..." She began to untie some part of the dress, which Jonathan described as a sort of wrap dress with ties on the sides. Before he knew it, Lily was standing in the middle of the family room, dressed in a string bikini. Again, she twirled around in front of Jonathan, and asked him what he thought.

He felt dumbstruck...he'd never seen a forty-something year old woman in a bikini before. She was pretty "ripped," he told me, and she began doing a little flexing routine to show off her muscular build. I've heard Lily spends a couple of hours a day at the gym, but I'd never seen her in a bikini. It wasn't hard to imagine that she had quite a sculpted body; just her biceps alone were the subject of conversations among some of the women I know. They were better than Michelle Obama's.

"What do you think?" She asked him again, and she started getting closer to him. Jonathan was becoming uncomfortable, and he picked up her dress from the floor where it had fallen when she took it off.

"Here, Mrs. Becker." He tried to hand her dress back to her, but she merely took it from his hands and tossed it on the couch next to her handbag.

"Jonathan, you haven't told me what you think! Do most of your little girl friends have a body like this? Here feel this bicep...." She took his hand and placed it on the muscle of her arm, but Jonathan took it away immediately. She took it again, this time putting it on her waist, and began massaging her navel with his hand. "You are one fine looking guy, Jonathan. Why don't you bring me upstairs to your room? I could show you..."

Jonathan stopped her conversation at that comment, took his hand from hers, and handed the dress and handbag to her. She didn't take them, but instead she began untying the top to her bikini.

"Please stop that, Mrs. Becker. Just leave. I'll never tell anyone about this. Please, Mrs. Becker."

Lily stood in front him; now one breast was bared. "Come on, Jonathan, call me Lily. You must want to touch just a little."

Jonathan stopped talking for a few moments, and took a deep breath. I remained silent, shocked about what he was telling me, and unsure of how this story was going to end. After a little rest, he continued.

Jonathan walked back through the family room towards the front door. "You're making me very uncomfortable, Mrs. Becker. If you don't want to leave, I guess I'll just have to leave myself." He stopped as he put his hand on the doorknob.

Now Lily began to realize that her desires weren't going to be met here today. She retied her bathing suit top, and slowly began to rewrap her dress, talking all the time.

"Jonathan, you are the first young man who has turned me down. Certainly Matt Gerek had no problem with my approach, and Omar couldn't get enough of me. What is your problem? It isn't every day that a boy your age has an offer like this. I can't believe you've turned me down."

Jonathan just looked at her, saying nothing at all. (Maybe he inherited that from me – not speaking at a time like this.) "You know, I don't even see any desire in your face. I know it's not because I'm not desirable, so what is the problem here?"

Still Jonathan said nothing. It apparently drove Lily crazy, because the next thing Jonathan knew, she was tugging at all the ties on her clothes, and she stood stark naked in front of him. "I'm not going to take no for an answer! I need a little, and I know you've got something to give me." She was next to him in an instant, and began groping him through his boxers.

"STOP!" Jonathan yelled. "Go home! I'm not interested, Mrs. Becker. Please get your clothes and go home!"

"Jonathan, the only other man who has ever turned this down is my ex-husband, and no wonder there! The man is a homosexual! Gay! He doesn't desire any woman. I'm beginning to think that might be your problem, too. How can you turn this down?"

Jonathan said Lily was becoming more and more agitated as she spoke. He didn't know what to say to her. He described to me how he just stood, sort of at angle to her so he didn't have to watch her get dressed. She began getting louder and louder, "You probably are gay, aren't you, Jonathan? How else could you turn me down? The only other man who has turned me down was gay. Is that it? Are you gay?" She was practically shouting now, but became deadly silent after asking that question.

Jonathan turned to face her. "Yes, I am, Mrs. Becker," he said quietly. Then he walked up the stairs to his bedroom and shut the door. He said he was trembling, but just stood with his back up against the door, waiting to hear the front door close behind Lily as she left. He waited and waited; it seemed like a very long time had passed, but never heard the door close. He said he wanted to collapse on his bed, but not until she was gone. Suddenly, he felt a force up against his bedroom door, and there was Lily again, stark naked and raving like a lunatic. She lunged at him and together they fell on his bed. "You will want me! I'll show you what it's like to have a woman, and you'll never want anything else again. Let me show you, Jonathan. I couldn't change my husband, but let me change you." She was half pleading and half screaming.

He said she was quite strong; her muscular physique was more than for show. But he managed to push her off him and grab the pair of jeans he had left on the floor last night. He ran down the stairs and out the front door, only then pausing long enough to put the jeans on. He began jogging down the street toward the park, but he could still hear Lily going crazy, shouting that she could change any "homo" into a real man.

Jonathan sat in the park, dressed only in his jeans with bare feet, for nearly two hours. He checked every now and then to see if Lily's car had left, but she stayed in the house for a long time. He couldn't believe what he'd just been through. He kept replaying it in his mind, trying to make the ending different. But this had happened. Finally, when he looked down the street, he saw that her car was gone. He waited a little longer before he walked back home, afraid of what he might find.

"When I came in, I couldn't tell she had been here. Nothing was disturbed, and with all her yelling, I thought it might be a mess in here." Jonathan paused again, and took a deep breath this time, before continuing. "I really haven't done a whole lot the rest of the day, Mom," he said, and he was finished telling about his horrible experience. "I haven't been able to figure out what she did after I left; it doesn't seem like she did anything in here at all, although it took her forever to leave. After I looked around and couldn't find anything obvious, I locked the doors and took a long shower, watched TV, never answered the phone once. I've always known that being gay isn't going to be okay with everyone, but I never anticipated anything like this!" He just looked at me, but the room was growing dark now, so I couldn't really see the emotion in his eyes. "And I am sorry that I never told you before."

"Jonathan, don't you dare say you're sorry about any of this!" That was the first thing that I said. I knew that he had gone through an earth shattering experience today, and I was keenly aware that I had no experience of my own to compare with this... I couldn't help but wonder aloud, "Do you think this is the end of this? I mean, do you think you've seen the last of Lily?"

He shook his head no. "I know I haven't. She's called and left two messages on the answering machine for me already! In the first one, she said she just knows that she can 'change' me if I'll give her a chance. The second one was an apology, telling me her behavior was unforgiveable. I never knew that was why she and Mr. Becker were divorced, did you?"

"No," I answered honestly. "Lily simply refers to him as her ex, and she never says much more, except I know she's not happy about the joint custody. She has told me she can't believe the judge went along with it, but she's never explained the circumstances of their divorce. Her son, Danny, doesn't seem to suffer from the arrangement." I stopped talking, aware that I was practically rambling when Jonathan had been through such a tumultuous experience. I thought to myself, 'What exactly had I meant about Danny not suffering?' Out loud, I said, "I'm sorry, Jonathan. I didn't mean to go on like that. I'm not really sure what we should be doing right now. Actually, what you've been through today could be a legal issue, aside from the unbelievable amount of emotional distress it's caused you. What did Lily say in her second message?"

"Legal issue? What do you mean?"

"Well, from what you've told me, Lily practically assaulted you, and with the phone calls, it seems she's stalking you, too. We could get a restraining order against her..."

"I don't think we should do that, Mom. I don't think she's dangerous or anything. I think this just a very tough subject for her. Her second message was very different. She was crying and apologizing like crazy, saying she was ashamed she had acted like that." My son's compassion, even after what had happened to him, was unbelievable. He continued, this time a little less compassionately, "I hadn't realized she was making the rounds with some of my classmates!"

"I'd heard a story or two, but I never believed it was true. I just figured it was jealous people talking...she's such a beautiful woman. I guess you're right; we don't need to turn this into a legal issue. After I've had some time to calm down, I'd like to try to talk to Lily."

"I don't want to be around when you do that. I'll hook up with Janey or something then..."

"I don't think you should be around then, either, Jonathan. You and I have a lot to talk about, don't we? Shall we have some dinner? I stopped at the store and bought some chicken..." One thing we enjoy doing together was cooking. Jonathan frequently helped me make dinner, and although I love to cook, he has much more talent with food than I do.

Jonathan shook his head. "I'm just not too hungry tonight. I don't even think I feel like talking any more. I think I'll just drive over to the track and run some laps."

We both stood up, and he gave me a little hug. I wanted to keep hugging him, give him a huge, let-me-take-this problem from you hug, and I really wanted to talk some more, but it was clear that Jonathan was finished talking for tonight. He left, and as I began putting the bag of groceries away, I reflected on our conversation. He had talked to me more tonight than he had in a long time. I had considered it normal for boys his age not to talk much to their parents, but now I wondered. Was his distance from me more because he hadn't been able to tell me about his sexuality? How awful was it for him to feel it was going to devastate me, to feel he had to keep it secret! After thinking about that, I didn't feel like cooking for myself, so instead of dinner, I dished myself up some chocolate swirl ice cream and sat at the kitchen table, trying to think things through.

I sat across from the sliding glass door, and, now that it was dark outside, I could see my reflection in it as if it were a mirror. I looked at myself and saw "average me." Everything about my looks seems to fit into the average category, although at the moment I didn't feel very average. I couldn't help wonder what the average mother of an eighteen year old gay young man looked like...Then I reproached myself for having such a thought, and went back to considering my very average looks before I allowed myself to ponder what had happened to Jonathan. At five foot four, I'm an average height, and I'm neither fat nor thin, although that will change if I have ice cream for dinner often. My eyes are medium brown, as is my hair, which is a medium length. I like to pull it back into a short pony tail with barrettes or ribbons that match my clothes. That's about my only fashion statement. I don't really have much flair for dressing, although I admire women who have a particular style...women like Lily Becker.

## Chapter 3

When I have a major problem to work through, I often talk out loud to Dick, my husband, who has been gone for over thirteen years. I still miss him so much, and at times like this, I talk to him and it doesn't feel so much like I'm alone. "Well, what am I going to do about this, Dick?" I shoveled some ice cream in my mouth without really tasting it, and continued. "I don't know what to work on first. Jonathan's told me he's gay, and I didn't know what to say to him about that. It's not that I haven't thought he might be, but I didn't say one word about to him! I know that's just like me, to go mute at times like this, but it wasn't fair to him. And Lily practically tried to rape him! Oh, Dick, I have to figure out what to do."

As so often happened when I spoke to Dick like that, my mind flashed back many years. Dick and I had met in college through a mutual friend, Patrick. Patrick was a drama major, and he was the first person I had ever met who was openly gay. I had never even shared that part of Patrick with Jonathan, although Patrick had stayed in our lives all these years. In college, Dick's major was accounting and he and Patrick had been floor mates their freshman year. They also were in the same freshman English course, and Patrick had been very willing to help Dick, who wasn't all that strong in English, in exchange for Dick helping Patrick through his math class. Patrick was also in my Psychology class, and we often worked together in small groups. Sometimes after class, we discussed the lectures or upcoming tests with a few other students. During that first semester, Patrick was in a play at the college. I remember quite a bit of the play, which was called "A Special Way of Talking." He spoke so enthusiastically about it, and he had invited both Dick and me to attend it, although we didn't know each other at that time. Coincidentally, we went to the same performance and sat next to each other. Patrick had the lead role in the play, who was an androgynous person, and he was hilarious. Patrick was a handsome guy; in fact, he was very pretty. He had long blonde hair and beautiful, innocent-looking blue eyes. His complexion was impeccable, and I wasn't sure he ever had to shave. Many of the people in the audience wondered if he was male or female, and the program, by design, didn't help as it had only listed his first initial, not his first name. Dick and I began a friendly exchange about the androgynous star of the play, but neither of us let on that we knew him. During intermission, we went together to the concession stand and it was then, as we waited for our refreshments, that we discovered we had both come because of Patrick. I felt disappointed about that, because I had found Dick so appealing and handsome, and I immediately assumed that if he was a friend of Patrick's, then he was gay, too. How wrong I was! And how Dick teased me later on for making such a generalization! Perhaps I should have told Jonathan about that tonight, and I hadn't...I hadn't said anything at all. "Dick, I really let our son down, didn't I?" I said out loud. "So many thoughts were going through my mind that I just followed them, and didn't say anything to Jonathan. How I wish I had said the right thing..."

Often, when I had a problem and talked to Dick aloud like I was doing tonight, the obvious became clear to me, just as it was right now! I couldn't wait until Jonathan came home, so we could really talk about this. I would tell him about his dad and me meeting because of Patrick, and I would ask him all the right things. I became consumed with guilt for never having brought it out in the open before. I began to mentally condemn myself; I should have brought the subject up with him before tonight, I should never have waited until he told me. I was anxious for Jonathan to come back home. I had so many questions to ask him. I wondered if he had ever had a special friend, I wondered if his friends knew. As I was thinking all these things, the telephone calls started....

Lily Becker was on the other end of the first call. When I said hello, there was an awkward silence, then she said, "Mara? It's me, Lily. Is Jonathan at home?" I couldn't believe she had the audacity to ask for Jonathan! I opened my mouth to tell her exactly that when she continued, "If he is there, just say yes and I'll call back another time. I've done a horrible thing...."

"No, Jonathan isn't here, Lily, and yes, you have done a horrible thing." My voice was far from calm, and I was nearly shouting. "He's eighteen years old, for God's sake, and you had no right" -

Lily cut into my tirade. "I know, Mara, I'm so sorry. I don't know what got into me. Well, actually, I do know, but I don't know how I can ever make this up to Jonathan, and really, I hardly know him. The way I've behaved is unforgivable..."

"Lily, I'm not ready to discuss this with you." I couldn't believe I was actually telling her how I felt rather than relying on my nature to become mute in the face of a crisis. But this time, fueled by both my self-loathing for failing Jonathan and a mother's love, I spoke my mind. "I can't believe what you've put Jonathan through today, Lily. There is much more I should say, but I am so upset about it I don't have the words right now. I will say that hearing you say you're sorry helps. Give me some time to cool off, and for God's sake, leave Jonathan alone. I'll call you when I'm ready to speak to you." With that, I hung up the phone. I was trembling a bit, but the phone rang again so quickly that I picked it up immediately. "What??" I practically shouted into the phone.

"Mom? Why are you answering that way?" It was Jonathan.

"I'm sorry, honey. It's just that....Well, Lily just called and I thought she was calling again. I'm glad you called, Jonathan. What time are you coming home?"

"If you don't mind, Mom, I'd like to camp out tonight at Janey's. Actually, there's a whole group of us going to set up a couple of tents outside...."

I really did mind, because I wanted to talk to him, but I knew if he was asking to stay out, he didn't want to come home and he didn't want to talk. So I told him, "Fine, but do you need to come home for some clothes or anything?

"No, if I need anything, Janey's brother will loan it to me. He's going to camp out with us, too. I'll see you tomorrow for dinner, okay?"

I hadn't had a chance to say any of the things I wanted to say to him, and as soon as I hung up, it wasn't ten seconds before the phone rang again. I answered it more calmly, and this time it was Patrick, whom I hadn't heard from in several months.

"Patrick? I was just thinking about you!"

"I just had a sudden urge to talk with you, Mara." This didn't surprise me; Patrick often called at just the right time. "Are you all right? Your voice sounds a bit shaky, old girl. And why were you thinking about me, pray tell?"

"Patrick, Jonathan's just come out."

"To you?"

"Yes, to me, what a strange thing for you to say, Patrick." I was silent for a few minutes until it dawned on me what Patrick meant. "Patrick, how long have you known?"

"Now, Mara, wouldn't you rather talk that over with Jonathan, not me?" Since our introductory psychology class together, Patrick had continued to study it, and had minored in it, along with his fine arts degree in acting. In dealing with others, he used psychology a bit more than I did, and he had a way of trying to get people to talk things through between themselves, rather than get involved. I can't say his way worked all the time, but it was his way, and I wasn't surprised when he suggested Jonathan and I talk about it.

"Don't pull that psychological bullshit with me at a time like this, Patrick. I'm a mess over this, Jonathan has had a horrible time today, and I've just been awful about never discussing this with him before today, when I've thought it for a while now. How long have you known? Why have we never talked about this before?"

"I can tell you are pretty wired, Mara. I thought you had that saying, 'Some of my favorite people are gay'? I wouldn't have thought this would have you so upset.... In any event, yes, I know. I've known for about a year now, actually since the last time I was out there. You remember Jonathan and I went on a few runs together, and the topic came up several times. Finally, he came out and told me, but he made me swear to let him tell you himself. Of course, I would have let that happen any way, but it was important to him to be the one to tell you. I gave him a few website addresses for support. I assured him that you'd handle it just fine, but from your voice right now, it doesn't sound like you have."

"So that's where he found the Internet support from. Really, believe me, Patrick; it's not hearing him tell me he's gay that has me so upset. Wait until you hear what he's been through today. I think I'm handling him coming out fine, although I went mute when he told me, so he can't begin to know it's not a big deal for me. We've never even talked about you! Suddenly, I feel so inadequate, like such a failure, Patrick! When I tell you what he's been through today, you won't believe it. I'm so mad at myself for never trying to broach this subject with him, when I've had the feeling for some time now. I'm really glad he had you to tell. Thank you."

It was nearly two hours later that we finally said good night, after making plans for Patrick to fly out to visit us as soon as possible. Patrick was really wonderfully helpful to me. During our conversation, we talked about so many different things, including my natural concern about AIDS. He assured me that was definitely something he and Jonathan had discussed, and it was part of many of the support websites he had given Jonathan. But before I hung up with Patrick, I blurted out, "Patrick, please don't be offended by this question. Jonathan's...Jonathan..." I searched for the right words to ask the question, but couldn't find them.

"You can ask me anything, Mara. What is it?"

"All right, I will. When Jon was little, he wanted a bike. Remember when he was six?...I gave him Gabby's. It was pink"

"Old girl, don't you even go there!" Patrick interrupted me, didn't let me finish. I thought he might be smiling, but he stayed serious as he said, "You know better than to even think that, Mara. Seriously, when you think about the way they're designed, I personally never understood why it's the boys' bicycles that have the bar and the girls don't. It seems like it should be the other way around to me. I am sure you agree, and that it only made sense to give him Gabby's anyway. One thing I don't want you to do, Mara, is try to figure out the reason or look back on every part of his childhood to try to find a connection. It's nothing you've done; it's nothing that can be changed. Jonathan is who is he, just the way God made him."

Trying not feel too silly, I said, "Thanks, Patrick. I'm sorry for even thinking like that. But I can't promise something else won't come up." That made him chuckle and assure me once again that I could ask him anything.

We said goodnight after that. I looked at the clock and was shocked to see that it was already past midnight. I had an 8 a.m. showing the next morning, and I realized that I was mentally and physically exhausted. I went to sleep thanking God for Patrick, and praying for all of us.

## Chapter 4

Was it fate? Some people might call it that, but to me, it was divine intervention. I had been working in the real estate industry for nearly twenty years, although I had cut back to part-time when the children were young. But the next morning I had a new experience. When I arrived at the house I was showing, I met the potential clients, who were two men who looked to be in their early thirties. They were business professionals, one in advertising and the other a sales manager at a large retail store. They did absolutely nothing to hide the fact that they were a couple, that they were buying the house together, and that they felt a great deal of affection towards each other. It was a new experience for me as a real estate agent, and the timing for me, as Jonathan's mother, was perfect.

Both men were very attractive in different ways, and both looked extremely fit. Marshall was tall and lean with very dark skin, almost blue-black. He spoke with a slight accent that sounded slightly French to me. His hair was closely cropped and his light brown linen trousers looked perfect with his darker brown suit jacket and tie with small green and gold fleur-de-lis. Although he was the quieter of the two, I soon discovered his laugh had a deep resonance that seemed to stay in the room for several moments. I fell in love with his gentle demeanor and deep laugh immediately. Bob wasn't as tall, but he was equally as handsome with his highlighted hair, an almost – too – dark tan, and the most perfectly straight, white teeth I had ever seen. He did more talking than Marshall, and he seemed to have a more serious personality. I learned this would be their first house, although they currently owned a condo together, and the prospect of owning one was very exciting for them. As we toured that first house, they told me – actually Bob did most of the telling, with Marshall adding little details now and then - how they had met and how long they had been together, just like so many married couples to whom I had shown houses over the years. Only yesterday, I think I would have reacted differently to their unabashed exposure, but today was different for me. It felt to me that God had brought them to me at this particular time. Guiltily, I realized that it was because now that I knew (or more honestly, acknowledged) my own son was gay, I couldn't help but take a special interest in them immediately. Even if that was the reason, I wanted to help them find the perfect house in a stronger way than I usually felt.

"Bob, Marshall," I said as I looked from one to the other, "now that I've met you and observed your reactions to this house, I have a few others I think you'd be interested in...Would you like me to set up viewing times?"

"This house was all right, but I think we both agree it's not the house of our dreams. Before we agree to look at some others, first we'll need to know their location; we've narrowed our house hunting down to several neighborhoods," Bob answered. He looked at Marshall for confirmation before he continued, "But we really like the way you show a house, Mara, and we'd love you to line up a few more. Can you give us a call later on this evening?"

Before I answered him, Marshall added, "We have met with a few other real estate agents, and you have been more accepting of us than any of the others."

Bob filled in a little more detail. "We know we're more obvious than is necessary. We're doing that on purpose, because we must have a good, open relationship with an agent if she or he is to find the perfect house for us. But we feel," and he looked at Marshall, who nodded his agreement, "that you are heads and shoulders above the others." He hadn't said much, but those few words meant a great deal to me. Inwardly, I puffed up with pride.

I told them I was flattered. Part of me wanted to say more, tell them about my Jonathan, but the timing didn't seem right. I rarely tell my clients much about myself personally; it seems more important to hear about their lives in order to help them find the right house. They asked a few more questions about the house they had just seen, and we set a time for my phone call later that evening.

I went straight from the showing to the office, where Jennifer, our secretary, seemed to be sitting on the edge of her chair waiting for me. "How was the showing?" she asked with a great deal of interest.

"It went very well, thank you, but why are you so interested?"

"Wasn't Bob just gorgeous?" she asked. Jennifer was a lovely looking twenty-five year old with shiny long brown hair and beautiful blue eyes. She was always on the lookout for an eligible man.

"I don't think I'd expect a date with him, Jen."

"Why not?" she demanded. "He came here alone yesterday, and he told me he wasn't married! Don't you think I'd have a chance with him?"

"Actually, no I don't, but not for the reason your thinking. Bob isn't married, but he's...very ...involved." I found myself having a hard time with the topic. Inwardly, I chastised myself for feeling uncomfortable.

"Oh, dear. Did he bring her with him? Was she a knockout, too?"

I bit the bullet. "Actually, Jen, it wasn't a she, it was a he, and yes, actually, he was a knockout."

"You're not serious? Oh, yes, you are. He's gay? What a waste!" Her disdain was quite evident.

I had no idea that I would react the way I did, but when she said that, something inside of me ached and I burst into tears. Poor Jennifer immediately became confused and just as she opened her mouth to say something, Dorothy, another agent, walked in the door. She looked from Jennifer to me and back again. "Is everything all right?" she asked without even saying good morning to us.

"Everything is fine, Dorothy," I managed through my tears, and with that I went into my own office and closed the door. I knew my reaction was hard for Jennifer to understand, but I was so startled at my own tears that I didn't attempt to straighten things out. What could I say...what was I ready to say? I could hear her softly ask Dorothy "Is it close to the time of year her husband died?" to which Dorothy responded, "No." Then the telephone rang, and Jennifer was busy again. I tried to get myself together, drying my tears, and turning on my computer. I began locating other houses to show Marshall and Bob. Next, I spoke with a new customer on the telephone, and prepared for my next showing. That kept me busy most of the morning, and it was lunchtime before I came out of my office. I had not allowed myself to consider how I would explain my tears, and instead of dealing with it, I purposely waited until Jennifer had gone on her own lunch break before opening my office door.

Dorothy's office door was also open, and I was not disappointed to see she was busy on the phone. I waved good-bye and left. I usually had lunch with one of my associates, but today, I needed to be alone. I drove to the beach, which wasn't crowded yet because school was still in session, and I parked the car. I made my way across the sand to the flatter part of the beach close to the water, took off my sandals, and began walking barefoot toward the water, looking out to sea. My mind was full of thoughts of Jonathan, Marshall and Bob, Jennifer, and as always, Dick. I needed to think about how I felt and how I was reacting to this new role in my life, being the mother of a gay son. But, I realized, it wasn't a new part of my life. Jonathan was who he was, and always had been, and I loved my son very much. Patrick had always been a part of my life, Dick's and my life, and sometimes, we had to defend our friend's "gayness." That was when I had started saying, "Some of my favorite people are gay," as Patrick had quoted me on the phone. I remembered the first time Dick's mother had met Patrick, along with Marco, Patrick's flame at the time. She had asked me how long ago Patrick had "turned gay." I remembered laughing and telling her I supposed Patrick had been born just the way he was; people didn't turn gay.

"Well, Mara," she had said, "do you think it's a good idea for you and Dick to have a friend like that?"

"Why wouldn't it be?" I had asked her. "Patrick's a wonderful guy, the best friend in the world." And the conversation had ended there, because my mother-in-law and I never got into verbal disagreements. We had an unspoken agreement to simply change the subject when an unpleasant air entered our conversations. The thought occurred to me that Jonathan's grandmother might have a different reaction to his being gay. Hopefully it would not be the same as she had about Patrick all those years ago. Although they didn't see each other often because we lived far apart, they were very fond of each other. I wondered if we would ever actually have a conversation with her about Jonathan being gay.

As I walked along the beach, I reflected that Dick might have been attracted to me because I was like his mother in that respect – neither of us would engage in discussions about difficult subjects. As I thought about this, I realized it was one part of my personality that I really wished was different. I admire individuals who never hesitate to speak their mind and can face situations head on, unlike my passive ways. Look at what my passivity had done for me now; my son had needed a mother to talk with and I had failed him. I was feeling very disappointed in myself as I walked along the beach. I had the opportunity to speak up with Jennifer this morning, but I had failed again because of this part of me. It was something I needed to change.

My tears started to fall again, this time not really unexpectedly, and I stopped walking. I sat down on the sand, facing out to sea, and put my sandals next to me. I drew my knees up to my chest, and pulled the loose, flowered skirt I was wearing over them. Then in an effort, I suppose, to hug myself, I wrapped my arms around my knees, and rocked a little, trying to comfort myself as I looked out at the water. Even as I was filled with sadness, I was aware that the view was magnificent; the sky was azure blue with just a few fluffy white clouds, and the ocean was rather calm today. It reflected the color of the sky. I watched as small ripples of waves gathered just a little momentum as they neared the shore. It was mesmerizing to watch that motion repeat, over and over in the bright sunlight. I sat there for a while and became lost in the motion of the waves and the way the ocean sparkled in the sunlight, and I felt a feeling of peace wash over me. I often felt God's presence when I took in the amazing beauty of the ocean, and today, I was filled with it. I knew He would be with me as I adjusted to the newly acknowledged part of my life. I'd need a little time to sort things out, but it would all work out. I had already survived the horrible trauma of Dick's death – because I knew the Lord was always with me - and this was nothing compared to that.

Like so many times before, my mind floated back to that horrible day. I had been making dinner – a chicken and rice dish that Dick loved, and I haven't made since - with some 'help' from Jonathan, while Gabby, who had just turned ten, was making a good attempt to set the table, when the phone rang. It was a nurse from the hospital's emergency room, telling me my husband had been in a very bad accident, and I needed to come right away. Very calmly, I had turned off the stove, and took the children next door, to ask Andrea's mother to watch them while I went to the emergency room. I had driven the five or so miles to the hospital without panic, but as soon as I walked into the emergency room, a feeling of desperation gripped me. It worsened when the receptionist asked my name and came around her desk to put her hand on my arm after I had told her I was there to see Dick. I was brought to his room, but it was too late; he was already gone. I was left alone with his dead body, which already seemed like an empty cocoon.

Each time I relived that day, my mind went numb, and today was no different. I felt completely detached for a while, and after some time, I came back to myself sitting on the beach. Again, I meditated on the ocean's rhythm. Once again, the calm feeling enveloped me and I thought, 'Yes, Lord, if I can survive that, then my latest situation is definitely manageable. Guide me, Lord, on this journey.' As I sat there a little longer, I was filled with God's peace, which truly does pass all understanding. I stood up and walked back down the beach, and I felt ready to face what was ahead. Full of resolve, I knew I would learn to deal with the prejudice against gays in the world, and I would do everything I could to help Jonathan, too. I had a strong feeling that my newest clients, Marshall and Bob, might be a larger part of my future than my ordinary clients, and I reflected that 'ordinary' wasn't an appropriate description for either one of them...I mentally pinched myself for that thought, because my sensitivity was already heightened enough to realize that such thoughts were stereotypically heterosexual of me. Maybe it was time for me to realize that there was a world in which Marshall and Bob were ordinary...and Jonathan could become part of that world, too. It saddened me as I became aware that I was thinking in terms of different worlds, one for heterosexuals, and one for homosexuals. It certainly hadn't felt that way back in college, where Dick, Patrick and I had often been involved in things together. But that was in the safe walls of an academic atmosphere, and that was in my opinion, as a heterosexual. I hurried back to the office so I could "surf the web" in an effort to help Jonathan find the perfect college. One where he would not be threatened...

## Chapter 5

Jonathan had dinner at home with me that night, but he didn't make any effort to help me make it like he usually did. He wasn't shaken up any longer about his experience with Lily; in fact he said now it seemed like it was all a very bad dream. I truly wanted to talk honestly and openly with him, but nothing I said seemed to be the right thing. I began by telling him that Patrick had called last night.

"Really, what's new with Patrick?" he asked, but he didn't seem very interested.

"Well, I guess I really don't know what's new with him. I spent a long time telling him about your ordeal with Lily."

"You mean you didn't even ask him how the play is doing?"

"The play? What play?" Then I remembered that Patrick had a huge part in a play that had opened just two weeks ago. "No, Jonathan, I didn't ask him! I didn't even remember about the play until you just brought it up now! I was so worried about you...."

I could feel the air between us cool – his words were not conversational any more, but almost angry as he said, "Nice job, Mom. Don't worry about me; what happened, happened, and I'm doing fine. Maybe I'll give him a call and ask him myself."

"I think it would be great if you called him. You and Patrick have always been close and now..." I'm not sure what I was going to say, but I stopped when I saw the look in Jonathan's eyes. He was really getting annoyed with me, and he snapped, "And now what, Mom?"

"I don't know, I just thought" – he stopped me mid-sentence.

"Stop, okay?" There was a long uncomfortable silence, until he tried to change the subject. "So, did you sell any houses today?"

"No sales today, but I do have some very interesting new clients," I answered. "In fact I have to call them in a little while."

"What's so interesting about them?" he asked, but he was still on edge.

I sat there, trying to figure out what to say. It was obvious that I shouldn't tell him Marshall and Bob were gay, and I couldn't think of what to say. He went back to eating his dinner, probably accustomed to my quiet ways when I can't think of what to say. We ate in silence for a while until I brought up colleges.

"Jonathan, have you thought about applying to any other colleges?" I asked.

"Any other colleges? No, I haven't. It's April, Mom. It's really too late for that. We talked this over in the fall, and I'm going to State. I'm really very excited. Why are you asking me this?"

"It's just that some schools..." I began to stumble for the right words, but I pushed on, "some schools have policies that are...." I knew I was not going to say the right thing at this point. I wondered how I could stop the conversation, but no idea came to me.

"That are what?"

"Oh, how should I say this? More....tolerant."

"More tolerant." He repeated my words in a flat tone. He looked across the table at me. "STOP worrying, all right? Maybe this is why I put off telling you for so long. I really don't want you worrying about it at all. I'm finished with my dinner. Do you want help cleaning up?"

I shook my head, because I knew I had crossed a line. My entire conversation throughout dinner had irked him, and it was definitely not what I was trying to do.

"Then I'm going out. Janey, Megan, and I are going to see a movie – maybe a few of the others, too."

"Okay," I answered, and he left very shortly after that. I began cleaning up the dinner dishes, as I tried to figure out what I was doing wrong. I felt like a bull in a china shop, so to speak. Everywhere I had turned, I had bumped into something with Jonathan. I had been so anxious to talk to him and give him my unconditional support, but nothing I said was right and I had done nothing to show my true feelings. I realized I had a lot to learn, and as with all parenting problems, there are no easy answers, no manuals to consult. I said a prayer that God would help me; I firmly believed He was with me always. I briefly thought about support groups for parents. It didn't take me long to dismiss that idea. Groups are hard for me, and I had attended a few widow/widower support group meetings many years ago, but felt so uncomfortable that I stopped going.

Later, I called Marshall and Bob with some other houses they might consider. They put me on their speakerphone, and after we discussed a number of possibilities, they rejected a two of them and asked to me to set up viewings for the rest. Of course, they wanted morning times, before work if at all possible, and they didn't want to see more than two in one day. While I understood they were not in a hurry, I knew they were very serious about buying a home. I set up viewings for early the next week, and hung up the phone.

I went into the family room and turned on the TV. I sat down and started to pick up my cross stitch, but ended up tuning into the program on the television. There was a brief news story about Matthew Shephard's mother's efforts. During the program, his mother had been interviewed, and my heart twisted as I thought of the pain she must be feeling. I wondered if I was feeling a special connection to her because now I knew I had a gay son, too, or if what I was feeling was simply human compassion. In just twenty-four hours, after hearing my son say a few simple words, it seemed that so many things were taking on new meanings. I had such a strong desire to talk to Jonathan about all of this, but after our unsuccessful dinner conversation, I knew I needed to find better ways of broaching these subjects with him. I turned off the television shortly after that show, feeling rather restless and looking for answers.

I had my own computer set up in the small office space that was part of the kitchen, and I checked my email. There was an inquiry for one of my real estate listings, which I answered, and a joke from my sister. As I was reading, I was only half-focusing on what was in front of me, while I tried to figure out how I could avoid awkward moments with Jonathan in the future. Not feeling too comfortable about group support, I wondered if I could find a book to help me understand all the things I need to about having a gay child? Maybe something entitled, Average People have Gay Children? However, after searching for a while, I came up empty handed. I found plenty of books on the subject, but nothing really that addressed of parenting. Next I relented and looked for support groups for parents of gays, which I quickly learned were for parents of gays, lesbians, bisexuals and trans-gendered individuals. There were online support groups and chats, meetings to attend in all fifty states, that sort of thing. I sat staring at the websites, contemplating this for some time. I concluded that I'm more of a reader than a group joiner. The idea of seeking comfort from strangers seemed odd for me, and I didn't feel inclined to seek out strangers for this, any more than I had when Dick died. After thinking it over for a while, I decided I might need to develop my own informal support group, since I didn't think the larger, more formal organization were for me. I asked myself if the fact that the groups included words bisexuals and trans-gendered put me off; perhaps that was too broad for me, a novice parent. I really can't remember exactly how I came up with the idea of inviting Bob and Marshall for dinner, but as I sat there trying to figure out what to do, when the idea crossed my mind, it seemed like a brilliant brainstorm. In reality, the evening they came to dinner nearly ended up being a total disaster, although as things turned out, I did manage to sell a house that night without even trying.

I truly don't know how Jonathan and I managed to get through the next few days; I know he was out of the house a lot that weekend, and when he was at home, he shut his door or had Janey or Megan with him. We didn't really have any conversations that I remember and I didn't push.

On Monday morning, I picked up Marshall and Bob to view the houses we had discussed the previous week. They were waiting for me as I drove up to their condominium, and we set off for to see two homes. Although they were very enthusiastic about the neighborhood, the first house just wasn't what they were looking for. And it was just the opposite with the second one, the house was great, but as they considered it, they felt the neighborhood wasn't a place they would feel comfortable.

Marshall looked at me and gently said, "Mara, we're not your average couple, you know. I feel I can speak frankly with you. We're same sex, and inter-racial. The neighborhood we live in needs to be...tolerant." And before I realized the words were coming out of my mouth, I responded by asking, "Would you two like to come to dinner?"

They looked at each other and I saw Bob's right eyebrow go up just a little. Marshall, who had not been as talkative as our first meeting, flashed his wonderful smile at me and said, "Mara, what are you asking us? Come to dinner...where? When?" And he probably wondered why, too, but he was kind enough not to ask. Certainly I had not given a rational response to their need for a tolerant neighborhood.

I realized that I hadn't really said anything that led up to the invitation, although mentally, I'd given it a great deal of thought. I had several reasons for asking them. One important reason was Jonathan would see how great they were as a couple, something he had never seen with Patrick, who never stayed in a relationship for more than two years. I thought that would be great. I also wanted to show my own tolerance and acceptance.

"I meant at my house. I have enjoyed showing you the houses so much that you feel like more than my usual customers. I was thinking about Saturday...."

"I'm guessing we're not like your 'usual' customers!" Marshall smiled at me again. He looked at Bob and said, "Yes, I think we would like to come to dinner. What should we bring? A bottle of wine? Dessert?"

"Oh, just bring yourselves," I replied rather grandly. Inwardly, I thought, how could I ask them to bring anything when I had no idea what I'm going to serve? But I had five days to figure it out.

## Chapter 6

I hadn't had anyone as a dinner guest in a very long time, except when Patrick or my sister came to visit, and neither visited very often. So it was a very big deal for me to get ready for this dinner, especially because my cooking skills are limited. I really wanted to impress them, and I actually considered buying a dinner from the best restaurant in town and putting it all in my own pots and pans, but if I was going to do that, I could have just arranged to have dinner with them at the restaurant. So I disregarded that idea and decided to have something uncomplicated...an old fashioned spaghetti dinner and good Italian bread. I felt it was something simple that I could do well enough. I could buy a ready-made dessert, and with those plans in place, I felt relieved.

Two nights before the dinner, Patrick called to say he'd be stopping by Saturday just for a quick overnight visit. The play was doing well – I remembered to ask him about it this time - but a special event at the theater gave him a night off, and he decided to visit us. The call was so brief that I didn't have a chance to tell him I was having dinner guests, but I didn't think it would be a problem at all. I had avoided telling Jonathan anything about Marshall and Bob and my dinner, but when he saw me making spaghetti sauce AFTER our dinner on Friday night, he asked what was going on.

"Actually, I'm having a few people for dinner tomorrow night. I have invited some clients I'm working with, and Patrick called last night and said he was coming in tomorrow just for a quick visit."

Much to my surprise, Jonathan didn't look too happy about that. In the past, he had always looked forward to Patrick's visits.

"What's the matter? You don't look too happy about something." I tried not to probe, because I had made a mess of things by doing that.

For a brief moment, the barrier that had been up since he'd told me vanished. "It's just that...you've told Patrick about the Lily incident, and I don't know how it will be with him now that he knows that you know.... I never called him like I said I would because it felt so awkward. Maybe I'll just go out for the night."

"No! You can't go out!" I knew I had said that too quickly and too strongly, so I slowed down and continued, "I was hoping you'd help me with the dinner, and I wanted you to meet the others..."

"Why? In fact, why are you suddenly inviting customers of yours to have dinner here? You've never done that before!"

Now I felt cornered. I couldn't tell him why I wanted him to meet Bob and Marshall. I started blabbering about the fact that he was going away to college in the fall and that I needed to start doing more or I would be too lonely. While I spoke, I began to think I might be setting up a bad situation with this dinner, but the plans were all made and I was going to go ahead with them. Jonathan just looked at me, and suddenly all my worries dissipated when he said with compassion, "I guess it will be different for you with both Gabby and me away most of the year...well, good for you, Mom!"

Then he started to help with the sauce, adding some oregano and adjusting the heat. It was the first time since the Lily incident that we had spent time cooking and I was very careful not to bring up anything that I thought would cause us a problem. I asked him if plans for graduation were all set at school, and we talked about going out to dinner after it with Gabby to celebrate. It seemed unreal that his graduation was just a matter of weeks away. After the meatballs were in the oven and the sausage was cooking, he said he was heading out with friends for the evening and went upstairs to get ready. It was the first time that our time together had felt natural, and I was grateful.

The next day, preparations for the meal fell into place, and I wasn't frantic about it, as I had expected to be. I regained my confidence that this was a good idea. Patrick arrived several hours before Marshall and Bob were supposed to come. Jonathan was at the store getting the fresh Italian bread, and I was glad to have Patrick alone for a little while before he was there. I immediately told him about Jonathan's concern that it would be awkward for the two of them now that I knew, and without waiting for him to respond, I also told him about the dinner guests. "Tonight I invited two of my clients to dinner...and they're gay." I stopped talking and waited for his reaction. He burst out laughing. It was not at all what I had expected. After getting over my initial concern that maybe this wasn't a good idea, I thought he'd praise me for being so pro-active, but instead, he was laughing, holding his sides because he was laughing so hard!

When he stopped, he said, "Mara, have you really invited two gay men to dinner tonight to meet Jonathan? And I'm here now? Do you have any idea how that will be for Jonathan?" He shook his head dramatically, and continued, "You have so much to learn!"

"I had hoped to show him I understand, and I accept who he is. And Bob and Marshall are such a great couple..."

"It might show him that, Mara," Patrick regained his composure and stalled as he chose his words carefully, "but I'm more concerned that it might be difficult for him. Actually, I'm sorry about laughing. It was such a sweet idea, but in fact, I'm thinking it could be very uncomfortable for him."

"But Patrick, what do you mean? Why?" Was my concern that this might not work out correct? I could see Patrick didn't find the idea brilliant. I knew I was having trouble figuring out what was all right and what wasn't. Intuitively, I had known not to tell Jonathan my guests were gay, but I really thought I had come up with a way to show him what kind of mother I was. I loved him no matter what.

"Most gay teens, actually, most teens period, don't want their sexuality to be a topic important to their parents! They don't want their parents thinking about it at all."

I knew Patrick would be helpful, but what he had just said should have been obvious to me. "Oh, dear... I had not thought like that. He has been rather touchy with me whenever I bring the topic up of his being gay, and I thought having some men around who had been through the same experience would help – help both Jonathan and me! This wasn't a good idea of mine, was it?"

"Just so you know in the future, there's definitely not something that can be categorized as a "growing up gay experience." Everyone grows up in his or her own experiences, and that goes for straight or gay, but I do see what you were aiming to do for him. Can you find someone else to invite so it doesn't look like that's what you meant it to be?" Patrick suggested. "That might save things for Jonathan."

"Patrick, you know how little socializing I do...I don't know a soul to ask. I haven't discussed this with anyone except you, Gabby and Jonathan. Oh, of course Lily Becker knows, too." She had actually called a few times to try to talk things over with me, but I still wasn't ready to talk to her.

"Ah, yes, Lily. She more or less owes you a favor...maybe she could come for dinner?"

"If I invite her, I am sure Jonathan won't stay for dinner."

"And that will be a great way to get him out of the situation, which I promise you, he won't want to be in." Patrick was so emphatic that I couldn't doubt his words.

That is how my dinner party guest list changed. I called Lily and asked her to come. I was very blunt...I told her my guests were gay, all three of them, and that I had thought meeting them would be helpful to Jonathan, but my old friend from college, Patrick, thought it definitely would be awful for him. It was the first time we had spoken since the night she had called, and she was quite gracious. She said she was glad I called and delighted to have an opportunity to do something to make up even just a little bit for her behavior towards Jonathan, even if it was her presence that would drive him out of the house tonight. She also started to tell me that she had some experience with gay men, given her ex-husband's orientation, but I cut her off. I told her to just come and act appropriately, and that would help make up for things.

## Chapter 7

When Jonathan came back with the bread, he and Patrick talked, but I could tell it was somewhat strained. I wished I could leave to give them some time alone, but I was running out of time and still had to make the salad. After seeing how uncomfortable he was feeling with Patrick, I was happy to give Jonathan an easy way out for the evening, especially after hearing Patrick's forecast for him meeting Marshall and Bob. I decided not to beat around the bush, but just came out and told him the situation.

"Jonathan, I think you are going to change your mind about having dinner with us tonight, and I completely understand. Lily will be joining us for dinner."

"Lily?" Jonathan looked at me with complete dismay. "Why would you invite her?"

"Um, she's called several times and tried to make amends over your ordeal. And I realized that I had three men coming for dinner tonight with just me, so I thought...."

"You invited three men? Mom, that's pretty weird. I thought you said you invited some clients from work."

"They are clients, Jon...two young men, and then Patrick called..." I started to explain, but Jonathan already had it figured out.

"The other two men wouldn't happen to be gay, would they, Mom?" he raised his voice ever so slightly as he asked. He looked me right in the eyes, and he knew the answer. I never even answered him.

"Oh, my God! I can't believe you..." He was really upset, and I was so glad Patrick was here because in my desire to be supportive, I had made quite a mess of things.

The more I tried to talk to Jonathan, the worse I made things. Finally, Patrick motioned for me to leave the room, and I heard them go into the family room. I knew Patrick was trying to reason with Jonathan as I began to set the dining room table. I was feeling miserable and briefly thought about canceling the dinner. I knew it was too late to do that, and still in the back of my mind, I knew I needed my own support group. I thought I might have found it in Marshall and Bob. It was becoming all too clear that I wasn't doing a very good job on my own. Of course, they didn't know anything about it, but I had the feeling since the first time I met them they would be up to the task of helping me in my quest to be the supportive parent Jonathan deserved. In fact, I felt God had put them in my life for that reason.

At the moment, though, I wanted Jonathan to calm down, and I didn't even know where to begin. Silently, I thanked God that Patrick was here right now. As I listened to him talk to Jonathan, I wondered how he had become so talented with speaking with teenagers – the little I could distinguish made me realize that the words Patrick was saying were not off the top of his head. He really knew what to say. I heard things like, "She was thinking of a way to help you, not hurt you," "You're not the first gay kid in this state, you know" and such. It was obviously helping because Jonathan was calming down. His voice was sounding less agitated as the conversation went on.

After twenty minutes, I heard the front door close, and I knew Jonathan had left. I had finished setting the table and was back to the kitchen to get everything ready when Patrick came in. I wanted to sit down and cry, but instead, Patrick gave me a little squeeze and said, "He'll be all right, but I'm sure glad that I came today. I don't really know what he would have done if your friends came and he figured it out – which would have happened mighty quickly since he did it without ever laying eyes on them."

"They aren't even my friends yet, Patrick. I liked them the first time I met them, and I was just hoping we could form a friendship. I know I need lots of support to be the right kind of parent for Jonathan..." I stopped talking as I reflected on what had just happened. "This was a really bad idea, wasn't it? I'm guessing you're going to tell me I had better cancel the subscription to the gay magazine I got him for graduation?"

"Mara, you really didn't..." he started to ask but he could tell I really had. He gave me a patronizing smile, but at least he didn't laugh at me this time. "Yes, you should cancel it. Or let it be from me, if it's a decent magazine. We'll talk about it later." He giggled and said, "You've got a lot to learn, old girl, but I know you're going to be fine. I'm glad you are having this dinner. I can guarantee there will be some awkward moments tonight, but if we get through them, maybe you'll gain some perspective to help you know when your ideas aren't so hot. You are a wonderful parent, Mara, and you're going to handle this latest challenge just like you've handled all the rest – the best you can. I can honestly tell you that having a gay son is probably going to present no more challenges than a straight son, but there will be some different challenges...Parenting doesn't come with an owner's manual, you know."

"Do I ever! How do you know so much about teenagers, Patrick? From the little I could overhear, you were such a natural talking with Jonathan!"

"Actually, I'm not a natural," he answered modestly. "I have attended hours of classes and seminars and the like, learning how to counsel gay teens. I didn't exactly get a warm reception from my parents when I came out, and it's my hope that I can help some young people through that kind of thing. I really enjoy volunteering at the center in Boston when time permits."

This was news to me. I was proud to hear Patrick was doing that and I said so.

"You know, Mara," he said to me, "there are support groups..."

I told him I'd been looking into that as a possibility; so far, I was more comfortable reading some articles and trying to form my own "support group." I didn't know how to tell him I wasn't really comfortable with how many categories were included in the groups. I hadn't even figured out why the words 'bisexual' and 'transgender' were hard for me to accept, so I left that unsaid. Patrick nodded and said he knew I'd figure out what was right for me.

"Patrick, there are so many things I want to talk about with Jonathan. I just don't know how...I want to know if he's dated, because I don't even know that, and if he has, who..."

"You want to know all the same things about Jonathan that every parent wants to know about their teenagers, straight or gay. But Mara, those are tough subjects for all teens. Dating is private, kind of a necessary rite of passage." He went on to give me sound advice about these worrisome topics, and kept reiterating that it wasn't just because Jonathan was gay. He reminded me of some of the trials I had endured with Gabby when she was in high school.

"You haven't forgotten when Gabby was asked out by that forty year old right after she turned eighteen, have you?"

No, I hadn't forgotten that! It was so clearly a bad idea, but the more I tried to make her see that, the more inclined she seemed to go, until a friend confided the same man had asked her out, also right after her eighteenth birthday. Then she saw the light.

Patrick was such a wonderful person, and I was so glad he was here, at this very moment. I gave him a hug and thanked him. Then he abruptly changed the subject away from the difficulties of parenting teenagers, straight or gay, back to our imminent dinner.

"Now Mara, I'm thinking tonight might have a few rocky spots. Do you have enough wine? A little extra wine can always help smooth over things..."

"You're causing me to feel more concerned than I already am about tonight! Let me show you what I have, and if it's not enough we still have time to make a quick run to the store. By the way, where did Jonathan go, and when will he be back?"

Patrick checked on the wine and decided we definitely needed more, which was not very comforting to me, and he told me that Jonathan was going to see if Janey, Megan or one of the others wanted to do something, since he definitely did not want to stick around the house to see Lily or meet Marshall and Bob. He didn't think I needed to worry about where Jonathan was that night, as he told me Jonathan just needed some time and space. By the time we got home from buying more wine, there was just enough time for me to change and take one last look around the house before they arrived. Patrick was staying in the Gabby's room, and he went to shower and change, too.

I went into the dining room first. We rarely used it but it really was a great room, and with the table set and ready for guests, it looked inviting. I had inherited my grandmother's entire dining room set. It was in excellent condition, made in the 1920s of mahogany in the Chippendale style. The dining room was large, with plenty of room for the pedestal table, two captain's chairs and six more side chairs. The seats of the chairs were covered with a striped upholstery fabric that matched the 1920s style. There was also a china cabinet, a buffet and two smaller chairs on either side of a small side table. The chandelier somehow brought out the best in the table, which had enough shine to reflect the small lights. I had moved two of the side chairs and one captain's chair away from the table and put them along the wall to make the table look more intimate. It was set for five and I couldn't help but admire it myself. I always wondered if Dick and I had bought this house because the dining room was just perfect for the set, or if it really was the rest of the house, which was what we had tried to convince ourselves.

The house was old, nearly 150 years old, but it had so much charm and was built so well that it didn't need a great deal of maintenance the way many older homes do. Some of the brick on the outside had needed repair, but the plaster walls were crack-free and the windows had been replaced just before we bought the place. The roof was the first big project we took on. It was very expensive, but we had it re-tiled in the original style with slate, and it was a perfect complement to the brick exterior. Of course the yard was quite large; therefore there was endless work to do in the yard, but that had always been a source of relaxation for me. We had finished remodeling the kitchen shortly before Dick had died, and working in the yard had given me solace while I worked through my loss after his death. I did far more work outside than we had ever planned. When the kids were young, long before Dick died, each time I had sold a house, I always put a little of the commission aside for my "yard fund." For two years after Dick died, I had sold record numbers of houses (I always wondered if the extra business was because people felt sorry for me) and then things calmed back down to normal. The "yard fund" was sizeable, and I used every bit of it. Working hard with plants and soil like that had helped me get through the initial shock and kept me busy during the long hours the kids were in school that I wasn't working. When things settled down, I spent time reflecting on life while I worked out there with my hands. It wasn't easy work, but doing it calmed my mind and filled many hours.

Because of that work, the outside of this house was now something of a showpiece, but lately I was beginning to realize I might not be staying in the house much longer. With both kids away at college, I just couldn't imagine the emptiness of the house, and I realized I should be looking for something smaller soon. I also no longer "needed" to spend the time working in the yard, and was hoping to start finding some more sociable activities to occupy my time. Telling Jonathan that was my plan with tonight's dinner hadn't just been a cover-up.

I walked through all the rooms on the first floor, and felt pleased that the house looked all right. I looked at myself one last time in the hall mirror and saw plain Jane me looking back. I had on a simple black and white dress and a white bow in my pulled back hair, with a plain gold chain around my neck and small, gold hoops in my ears. A little make up but not much completed the look – I hadn't put on any shoes yet, but I thought I might stay barefoot...Of course, I knew I would look extra plain and ordinary next to Lily...

Lily...what on earth had I done? Did I really trust her enough not to ruin the evening? I was thinking these thoughts when the doorbell rang. Of course, Bob and Marshall were standing at the door...but they weren't ready to come inside.

## Chapter 8

Bob was dressed in a white polo shirt tucked into khakis, looking very casual, but Marshall was more formal with a navy blazer, dark khakis and a button-down collar striped shirt, with no tie. The shirt had navy, pale pink and khaki stripes, and was open at the collar. With his dark skin and good looks, I realized Marshall looked like a model for male fashions.

Before I had a chance to utter one word, Bob practically shouted, "Mara! This yard is fabulous!" He was obviously impressed, and Marshall was no longer standing, rather he was bending down inspecting one of the hostas that bordered my front walk, which was shaded much of the time because of the large trees in the front yard.

"I've never seen this variety before," he remarked, but I didn't know if he was speaking to Bob or me. For a moment I felt awkward because none of us had greeted each other.

"It's called variegated splendor, or the formal name is Antioch," I told him, and then he finally stood up to say hello.

"Would you like to come in? Or we can walk around the yard a bit," I suggested.

They both wanted to see the yard, and I was surprised that condo dwellers were so knowledgeable about the various plantings I had. Together, they ooed and ahhed over my flowers and bushes. They loved the shady front and sunny backyard, because I was able to grow so many different kinds of plants. They explained that they had a large patio with their condominium and did as much container gardening as they could in the limited space they had. This yard was like a dream for them.

"This is one of the reasons we want to buy a house," Marshall told me as we headed back to the front yard. "We both love working with plants – actually, I love it more than Bob, but he enjoys the look of all the plants – and we can't do enough with the condo. Something about working with the soil heals the soul." I certainly agreed with that, but didn't say anything, just nodded in agreement.

Having finished walking around the entire yard, we went back in through the front door. The dining room is just off the foyer and they immediately went in and began admiring my grandmother's set, as well as commenting on how good dinner smelled. Bob observed the five place settings, and asked, "I know you told us you wanted us to meet your son, but who's the mystery guest?" He gestured toward the table.

I hesitated, and finally answered him. "Actually, my son isn't going to be joining us tonight. An old friend from college has come to visit me unexpectedly..."

"And that would be me," Patrick came down the stairs and was dressed in the most outrageous outfit I had ever seen him in, except perhaps in one of his plays. Patrick usually dressed on the conservative side, but tonight the shirt he wore was garish, it was so colorful – it was neither paisley nor tie-dyed, but something in between, and it had the brightest colors I had ever seen him wear - yellow, orange and red, with a splash of turquoise. It buttoned down the front and he hadn't buttoned the top three bottoms, showing off his hairless chest, along with a rather large gold chain. He had on perfectly pressed white linen pants and shoes that were white leather with several buckles on them. I didn't know he even owned clothes like those he was wearing, and I made a mental note to ask him about it later. He entered the room with such flair that that I swear the drapes swished as he sashayed across the room. He stuck out his hand to greet first Bob, then Marshall, who both remained silent until he said first to Bob, then to Marshall, "Hi, I'm Patrick. It's a real pleasure to meet you...." And they each told him their name in turn. Patrick was making it clear that he was gay...no need for gaydar in this room! There was a moment of complete quiet, when my mind raced, wondering if they even believed me that Patrick was here unexpectedly, but at that moment, the doorbell rang again, and there stood Lily. I froze for a moment when I opened the door, because from my best guess, she was wearing the dress she had 'modeled' for Jonathan. She proceeded to greet me way too warmly, given what had happened between her and Jonathan, and my heart sunk as I realized the night might turn into a huge disaster...

I made the introductions and brought everyone into the living room, which was on the other side of the foyer. Lily plopped down next to me, closer than she should have. Patrick offered wine, and they all accepted. He insisted he would get it and that I should stay with my guests. Bob and Marshall started making small talk, commenting on my antiques, and Lily, who, to my knowledge, had actually never sat in the living room until that very moment, tried to explain where I had gotten the antique end table they were admiring.

"Oh, yes, Mara has had that for ever," Lily said, not really knowing that it was purchased shortly after Dick and I had moved into the house. "She found it -" she hesitated and waited for me to finish the sentence for her. I willingly told them where I found it and how long ago, but I was very distracted trying to figure out exactly why Lily was putting on the air that she was more familiar with me and my home than she really was. Patrick brought the wine and the dish of hors d'oevres I had made. They weren't anything very fancy, just stuffed mushrooms and bruschetta.

"Mara must be trying to impress you guys," he said to them with a wink as he offered them a napkin. "I've known her for twenty-five years and she's never made any of this stuff for me!" That wasn't exactly true, since I had served him the exact same thing the first time he came to our home after Dick and I were married. I guess he had forgotten, because I really didn't make appetizers very often at all.

Lily continued to make it sound like she knew a lot more about me than she did. She said things like, "Patrick, it seems like forever since you've been here to visit. When was the last time?" when in fact, she hadn't even known Patrick existed until I had called her to invite her for dinner a few hours earlier. She also kept touching me, and continued sitting extra close... I didn't know why she was doing that, and Patrick knew it was a ruse but did nothing to stop it. I wondered if Bob and Marshall were falling for it.

We struggled through the hors d'oevres without any real problems, but the conversation wasn't flowing very well. I excused myself so I could begin putting the food on the table, but they all got up at the same time, asking me to let them help. That caused a comfortable chuckle from everyone, and I gave each one a job to get the dinner on the table. All the while, Patrick kept refilling the wine glasses. I wasn't feeling the wine yet, but I hoped I could get through dinner without getting sloppy. After all, I did want to look professional in front of my clients...even though I had never invited any to my home before. This was the first time I had sought clients as friends, and if the evening continued like this, my quest was going to be unsuccessful.

As we seated ourselves, Patrick sat at the head of the table, and Lily rushed to sit beside me, leaving Marshall and Bob across from us.

"This looks great, Mara," she said giving my arm a little rub with her well-manicured hand. Suddenly, I thought I figured out what she was trying to do...

We began passing around the food, with a few positive comments from Bob and Marshall about how good it smelled and looked. As we were filling our plates, she decided to strike up a little conversation. "You two have been together how long?" she asked as she look across at the two of them.

They answered her, but it wasn't with the same enthusiasm they had used when I first met them. Next, she turned to Patrick, "And how about you, tell me about the hunk of man in your life at the moment."

Patrick didn't quite choke on his mouthful of spaghetti, but I know he was not pleased with the question. He tersely told her he was "in between" relationships, which I knew was a lie, but I wasn't ready for the next thing Lily said coming before she said it. She reached over and pecked me on the cheek, and said, "Mara and I have been together for -"

At that comment, I cut her off. "Stop this now, Lily!" I glared at her and she shrunk ever so slightly. She looked at me with innocent eyes. I could not believe the words that came out of her mouth.

"I thought you wanted this to be an all-gay night, so if you and I are a couple, everyone will be comfortable, right?"

"An all gay night!" Bob repeated the words and pushed back his chair, as though he was about to stand up, but I noticed Marshall was trying not to giggle. Patrick looked right at Lily and said, "Sweetheart, if you are a lesbian, then I am straight. And I most definitely am not straight!"

There was an awkward moment of silence, until Marshall allowed his stifled giggle to escape, rather loudly. That deep laugh resonated in the room, and that caused Patrick to join in. The next thing I knew, Bob, Marshall and Patrick were all laughing, but Lily just looked confused. And I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

Finally, Lily, who Patrick made sure had her share of wine and then some, blurted out, "When you told me that the rest of your dinner guests happened to all be gay men, and I should act appropriately, I thought that's what you meant, Mara!" She went on, "I really was trying to do what you wanted me to, because Lord knows I'm lucky that you're even talking to me after what I pulled with poor Jonathan..." She stopped talking for a moment.

"Jonathan," said Bob, "isn't that your son, Mara?" He hesitated briefly before continuing. "I have to tell you, so far, this evening has been quite strange! You never have told us why he wasn't joining us for dinner tonight, and when you invited us, I'm sure I remember that you mentioned you wanted us to meet him."

I looked at Bob, then Marshall, but I couldn't think of a thing to say. I felt that anything I said at that moment might just make things more of a mess, and I wasn't quite ready to give up hope that this evening would be the success I really wanted it to be.

"Oh, I'm the reason he's not here," Lily tried to explain. "After what I did to that boy, he'll never agree to be in the same room as me again." She was being as honest as I'd ever seen her. All pretenses were dropped, and she was begging them to ask her to expound. They were clearly interested.

I really had wanted to tell Bob and Marshall about Jonathan at just the right moment during dinner, but it was clear that there weren't going to be any "right moments' tonight. Perhaps that was when I began to comprehend that there aren't any right (or wrong) moments to discuss the subject. So I began to try to explain to them.

"Well, Lily's right about Jonathan not wanting to be around her – and for a very good reason." I gave her as mean a look as I could muster, which wasn't too successful, because Patrick smiled ever so slightly as I did it. I continued, "Let's have another glass of wine and so will I, and I'll tell you about it." So as Patrick poured all of us more wine, I continued, "First, Lily is only an acquaintance of mine, not a close friend, and certainly not my partner! She's just recently done something awful to my son. But Patrick here made me realize I had to find a way to get Jonathan out of this evening, and inviting Lily provided that. At this point, you probably think I'm out of my mind, and I do, too!" I took a breath, and continued, "The fact of the matter is, if Jonathan had joined us for dinner, there would have been four gay men here tonight."

"And two heterosexual women," Lily added, trying to help me again. She was the only one who snickered at her comment, though. The room was totally silent.

Marshall pursed his lips and said nothing, but Bob again raised his eyebrow ever so slightly as if to ask a question, and ignoring anything else I had said, he looked very seriously at Lily and asked, "What did you do to him, Lily? Why doesn't he want to see you?"

There was a pause before Lily began to speak, but finally, she took a deep breath and said, "I think I've drunk enough wine to tell you this, even though I've just met you. But first, Mara, please, please forgive me." She looked directly at me, but I didn't have an answer for her, so she went on. "Maybe one of you," she looked at each man, "has had an experience similar to the one Jonathan had with me...I'm divorced, you know, well, no, you don't know that, do you? Even though my ex-husband was...I guess I'll get to that another time. I, um, I have a thing for young lean bodies, and I came over here last week, knowing full well that Mara wouldn't be home. I thought I might have a little fun with Jonathan, but all I managed to do was force him to come out. I'm not all that promiscuous, but sometimes, I hit on the younger set, never under eighteen of course, and believe me, they are always willing. But this was different. The more Jonathan rejected me, the more I felt I had to have him, even after he told me he was gay. It was horrible of me and worse than horrible for him, I know, but I just thought..."

Patrick hadn't said anything at all for a while now, but he broke in, "You just thought if he had a real woman, you could straighten him out? Ah, yes, I've had that experience more than once in my life. It doesn't work that way, Lily."

Bob cleared his throat and spoke. His tone was rather flat. "This is the most unusual dinner party I've ever been invited to! I don't know whether to be insulted or flattered, but from what I know of you so far, Mara, you didn't do this to insult anyone. And you, Lily, what is it about women like you, that you want to change gay men into straight ones? That just isn't an option, any more than you and Mara really being a lesbian couple is real. Do you think anyone could make you want another woman?" He looked at Lily first, and then at me. We both shook our heads, no. "That is exactly my point! And no one could make a gay man want a woman. Period. Even when the woman looks like you, Lily."

The room was silent for a moment, and Patrick finally spoke up. "I am so glad that Jonathan is not here for this conversation. I just don't think an eighteen year old would have enjoyed it one bit!"

"I was sure he would leave the house when he heard I would be here," Lily said seriously. "But just in case that didn't happen, I dared to wear the dress I modeled for him. One look at it and he would have been out the door, if he hadn't left before I arrived. I know it now! But I guess what you're telling me is none of you men wouldn't be interested in seeing the string bikini that came with it, either. I tried that with Jonathan, but it didn't work."

I couldn't believe the gall she had, to wear same dress to my house. I wanted to be angry with her, but I didn't think she was being serious. Slowly, I was beginning to understand a little more about her. There was definitely more to Lily than I thought. Perhaps she wasn't so bad...just horny, needy, and confused.

"If you're serious," Patrick answered her, "then you're right...don't model for us!"

"I didn't wear the bikini under it this time!" Lily said seriously.

No one said a word, but Bob made a face and shook his head slightly, and Marshall didn't react to what she was saying at all. He began looking around the room, and asked if he could see more of the house. I knew he wanted to find a way out of the conversation, and I wasn't exactly comfortable with it, either. Patrick poured more wine, and attempted to have a serious conversation with Lily, telling her it was actually his idea to invite her to dinner to provide an out for Jon. Bob softened up at that point, and I don't know whether it was the topic or the wine, but he, Patrick, and Lily seemed content to continue their conversation, which was moving away from being hostile towards a meaningful exchange. Lily said she wanted to tell them about her husband, and they said they were ready to hear another one of her stories, but they also wanted to talk to her about her penchant for young lean bodies. Almost simultaneously, both told her how offensive and harmful that was. That comment made Marshall even more uncomfortable, and it was at that point I stood up and offered to take him on a little tour to see the rest of the house, to which he agreed immediately. The other three were so engrossed in their conversation, I'm not sure they realized we left the table.

## Chapter 9

It was the first time I had spoken to Marshall without Bob present, and I quickly learned that he was a man with an interesting life story. As we toured my home, he told me about his childhood. He had been born in Jamaica, but had moved to the United States when he was in grade school. Now I understood where his slight accent was from. His mother had died shortly after his family came here, and his father had not stayed in his life regularly after that. His mother's sister, who was married to an African American, took him in. They already had a large family, five children, but they took in Marshall anyway. He missed his mother terribly, but it was a relief not to see his father any more. He had been a very cruel man and Marshall had memories of his violence against his mother.

His uncle was a hard-working man, and while he didn't have a lot of time for Marshall or his own children, he was kind and encouraging to each of them. Marshall had always done extremely well in school, and he continued to work hard. His uncle told him if he had good enough grades, he would be able to go college, and he wouldn't have to make a living doing physical work like he did. Marshall got along well enough with his girl cousins, but the boys teased him endlessly about being a bookworm.

Marshall earned excellent grades and a scholarship to college, and he shyly told me it was in college that he had first experienced an intimate relationship. He had realized he was attracted to his own sex in high school, but he never acted on it then. He knew his uncle would never understand, nor would his male cousins, who already gave him a hard time. When his uncle finally found out, just after he graduated, he never spoke to Marshall again. Marshall occasionally saw his aunt and his two female cousins, but because his uncle and male cousins wouldn't accept him any longer, he slowly lost touch with his family. He shook his head wistfully as he said, "I'm not going to tell you about the day he found out right now, Mara. Maybe some day. But you are probably wondering why I am telling you this story at all."

"No, it's been fascinating..." I said honestly. "No one has ever shared coming out with me before, and it means a lot that you have. And there's something about listening to your lovely accent – it makes hearing your story even more interesting."

I looked at him, and softly said, "I am so sorry you have lost your family, Marshall. That's just not fair. And I am so happy that you aren't angry with me about inviting you tonight."

"Well, the reason I am telling you all this is because I really understand what you tried to do for your son tonight, by inviting us and showing him you accept him. I never had that. Many gay men never do. He's very lucky."

"At this moment, he doesn't feel that way! He figured out about you and Bob before you even arrived and became quite angry with me – that's why I invited Lily. I knew if she came, he'd leave. Plus, Patrick showed up and he thought the three of you would be too much for him." What had I meant by 'the three of you?' I wondered if he would take offense, but he didn't.

"Bob won't easily handle parts of this evening either – I know that. He will be insulted that we were invited because we are gay. Personally, though, I'm flattered, and I know you tried to do something very special for your son, even though I agree with Patrick that it could have been a disaster. I'll work on Bob, and he'll see it that way after a bit."

"Do you really want to see the upstairs, too? Or were you just making an excuse to get away from the conversation at the table? It sounds like the conversation is pretty congenial now." We couldn't really hear the words they were saying, but there were pleasant chuckles and earnest tones.

"Actually, I really do want to see upstairs, although I was just making an excuse to get out away from the table. That Lily – she has lots to work out in her life, doesn't she?"

"I'll be honest, Marshall. I really don't know much about Lily. We've been acquaintances for nearly ten years, but I really wouldn't call her a friend. Her behavior toward my Jon makes me want to hate her, but that's not really how God wants us to treat others, is it?"

I hesitated, not knowing where to go from that statement, but Marshall easily picked up that thought. "You are right, Mara. We are to reach out to others in love." The smile on his face, the warmth of his words...My heart swelled with gratitude toward everything. Before I responded, he abruptly changed the subject.

"From what you've shown me of this house, I can see it's much better than any we've seen so far...and you know that's true! Please, show me the rest! I wish Bob was seeing it with me, but it's good to just leave him on his own for a little while."

Marshall and I went through the entire house. He was quite taken by Jonathan's room – made a big deal about his track trophies and medals. He said his room showed a lot of personality and that he couldn't wait to meet him. Eventually, I had nothing left to show him, and we went back to the dining room. We found Patrick, Lily, and Bob a little on the sloppy side as Patrick had obviously kept the wine glasses full during our absence. Lily was in the worst shape; she was practically crying as she pleaded with both of them to try to make her understand how her ex-husband could have been gay all along without her realizing it. Both of them took the point of view, though, that it wasn't her ex-husband's fault, and together, they tried to make her understand how wrong it was that society had tried to make him think he could be straight or should try to act straight when he wasn't. Marshall and I sat back down at the table, but none of them really acknowledged us.

Then Lily became even more surprising. She started insisting she knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of prejudice, just like gays and lesbians.

"How on earth could you say that?" Bob seemed offended, but this time it was not like his statement about being invited to an all gay night. "What in your life could compare to people turning their back on you when they discover the love of your life is the same sex?"

"I do know what prejudice is like," Lily repeated. All eyes were on her to explain. She remained silent for a few moments, debating whether to go on. Finally, she blurted out, "I never talk about this...I have been ignoring the truth since I married. But I do know prejudice. You see, I'm black! My father was darker than you, Marshall!"

Her statement was met with total silence. In my mind, I was wondering if the two types of prejudice could be compared, and realized I had no reference point. I really didn't care what her race was, but that didn't mean I could understand what she was saying. Patrick was the first to speak, but as soon as he started, Bob chimed in. They both felt the two issues could not compare, but Marshall, who had not said anything to the group since before we left for our house tour, spoke up with conviction.

"I think the lady may know prejudice indeed." He said it softly, but he looked at her straight in the eyes, as he continued, "I do not know your experiences of prejudice as a black woman, Lily. I have never been taken as anything but a black man, but perhaps that's not the same experience you've had. If you know prejudice because of your race, I cannot comprehend how you could possibly feel the anger you clearly still feel toward your ex-husband because of his sexuality! And if you can really understand this awful thing called prejudice, Lily, how could you have put young Jonathan through such a terrible situation?"

The air in the room became heavy, like humidity just before a summer rain. Although he spoke gently, Marshall's words were full of challenge. Lily let a tear fall, followed by many more. As she wept, she began confessing her desire to understand herself, change her actions, for both her problems with homosexuality and with her feelings about her race. She finished by asking us all to help her. Each of us tried to offer her solace, but I can't recall any of our words. I was mainly aware of what a strange path we had all traveled over the past couple of hours, particularly regarding all of our feelings toward Lily Becker. We were all aware of her appalling behavior toward Jonathan, and now we all knew she had tried to fake being in a relationship with me and that she had denied her race for years. Even after all of that, Lily then managed to invoke our empathy. She was definitely more complicated than I ever realized.

It didn't take long for the atmosphere change from accusatory to exchanges of ideas as I watched my guests discuss racial prejudice and discrimination against homosexuality. I listened carefully but as I sat there, I realized I had a lot to learn, and these guests were excellent teachers. They were open and willing to share ideas. I brought out the lemon cake I had bought for dessert, along with some coffee, and I think we all enjoyed the end of my dinner party, although the conversation was unlike any I had been privy to in the past.

When the conversation finally dwindled, Marshall and Bob said it was time to leave. Quite sober, Marshall promised to drive. Bob, who was probably feeling the effects of all the wine, actually gave me a big hug and said he'd enjoyed the evening, even though he had been highly insulted when he found out the reason I'd invited them. Yes, he actually said both things to me. After they left, I gave Lily more coffee as she helped me clean up. As we worked, she talked about all she had dealt with during the evening: her coming on to my son, pretending to be my partner, her problems with her ex, and her feelings of shame that she rarely told people her race. She had a lot on her mind, and she talked a long time with little need or opportunity for me to respond. She apologized for pretending we were a couple, insisting she truly thought it was the way to fit in, and realized now it was just foolish. Patrick joined us for a bit at first, but he was tired and a little drunk, and finally excused himself since he had to drive back to Boston fairly early in the morning. Lily continued talking about what insight she now had into Grant – her ex – after hearing the views of Bob and Patrick. She'd never had such an open exchange about anything, she told me as she continued to put my dining room and kitchen back together. She really was a big help in that role; she worked harder than me. I wasn't sure I had done the right thing in inviting her tonight but at the moment, it seemed to be helping her more than anything. Between what she had done to my son, and her effort to make us look like a couple, I had a lot of reason to feel offended by Lily Becker. But the evening had turned out all right, and it seemed she had been enlightened by it, I realized as I listened to her chatting on as we worked. Finally, we were done cleaning up, and she had sobered up and was able to drive home. After quite an evening, I was able to go upstairs to bed. I was shocked when I saw the time – 1:30, and relieved as I heard Jonathan come in just before I fell asleep.

## Chapter 10

In the morning, I came downstairs to find Patrick and Jonathan talking in the kitchen. Jonathan was making pancakes, and I wondered if I ought to go back upstairs for a while before joining them, but Patrick gave me a hearty reception. Jonathan said good morning to me as if nothing was wrong, and I asked him where he'd gone last night.

"Actually, we all went to a party – at Ken's house." I knew Ken was Meghan's boyfriend, but Jonathan rarely did anything with him. He continued, "Most of the track team was there – it was a very large party. We decided to drive over to the high school and we took some hilarious pictures of the track team, as kind of a senior memory. We took action shots of us pretending to fall while running on the track." He continued telling me how one of them had somehow managed to turn the big lights on the track, and he was far more animated than I had seen him in weeks. Patrick winked at me...and I realized that he must have said some things last night that perhaps had given Jonathan a bit more self-confidence. I had begun to realize that hanging out with the guys was probably hard for him and that was why Jonathan felt more comfortable with the girls. I wistfully thought that it would be so wonderful for all of us if Patrick only lived closer...and once again I realized how badly I needed a support system. I wondered what would happen with Bob and Marshall after last night, even though it seemed that they left with complete understanding and no problem.

I felt comfortable enough to tell Jonathan about Lily's little stint of pretending we were a couple, and he rolled his eyes but didn't say anything. He asked me how the dinner went. I told him I thought it had gone pretty well. He showed no reaction at all when I shared Lily's racial background. I desperately wanted to respect his boundaries for what he was comfortable talking about as we talked, but I hated the feeling of mentally probing for his reaction. He told me he and Patrick were trying to pick a weekend that he could go to Boston to visit him. That surprised me because he had never done that before, but I was also pleased about it and offered encouragement while trying not to sound overly enthusiastic.

After breakfast, Jonathan left for track practice. It was Sunday, so it wasn't an official practice, with only the athletes and not the coaches, but this week was the last meet of the year and the more serious runners didn't want to lose a day's practice. As he left the house, I wondered aloud to Patrick, "His coaches have loved him all through high school...would they still if they knew?"

Patrick told me it was fruitless to engage in such thoughts, since with only a few weeks of high school left, it was pretty unlikely that Jonathan would be making an announcement to the world. Again, I thanked him for all the help he'd been. After he left, I realized I had forgotten to ask him about his flamboyance at the beginning of the night, and made another mental note to ask him the next time we spoke on the phone.

It was too late to go to church, so I decided to do some work in the yard. I was knee deep in weeding when I heard Bob and Marshall's voices out in the front yard. At first, I thought I was imagining it, but when it didn't go away, I walked around front, and sure enough, there they were.

"Good morning!" Marshall grinned, and Bob was quick to apologize for the uninvited visit.

"We stopped at the bakery after church, and Marshall was going on and on about how wonderful your house was, so on a whim, we decided to stop by and see if you were home. We haven't even tried the bell yet, we are so enamored by your yard!"

"I wouldn't have heard the bell anyway," I answered, "but it's great to see you. Did you want the same tour as I gave Marshall last night, or do you want the full-price one?" I was so thrilled that they were here. It was rare for me to have impromptu guests, and I figured their presence meant last night was a success.

"You don't have to stop what you're doing, Mara," Marshall said. "I've been unable to get your home out of my mind, and I think I have a pretty good idea..." His voice trailed off as he waited for my reaction.

"Actually, I'm ready for a break from my work out here. You know, doing all this weeding isn't exactly easy, and I'm not sure how much longer I really want to keep doing it. I'm not exactly a spring chicken anymore!" I peeled off my gardening gloves, and bent to brush the dirt from my knees. I walked slowly as if to emphasize how hard all this work was becoming for me.

Bob raised an eyebrow as he looked at Marshall, a gesture that was becoming familiar to me. "Well, Mara, that's exactly what Marshall's idea revolves around...not about you getting older, but maybe, with Jonathan going off to college in the fall, you're getting ready to downsize? Maybe you no longer want this much to care for?" He gestured at the expanse of the yard and house. I'd love to see the rest of the house and then maybe we can talk it over."

I smiled at them and said, "Come on in," feeling more than a little curious about their 'idea,' since I had recently thought the exact same thing.

We went in the front door, and I was very happy that Lily had helped me clean up the night before. I would have been embarrassed if it was still a mess. I made fresh coffee and got out some cups to serve them in the kitchen. I hadn't noticed they had brought a white bag in with them, but I was delighted when Bob asked me for a plate to put the fresh pastry on.

"You two can come by uninvited any time if you bring me goodies like this!" I exclaimed as he put some cheese Danish and enormous cinnamon rolls on the plate. I took some butter out of the refrigerator, and gathered plates and silverware, and set it on the kitchen table. They asked when Patrick had left, and where Jonathan was, and seemed in no hurry to get to the point. Finally, Marshall asked if I would give the tour again starting with the foyer, and he asked a few more questions than he had the previous night. Bob was oohing and ahhing over all the little details...the crown molding he had failed to notice the evening before, and the curve of the banister going upstairs. He was just as complimentary about Jonathan's room as Marshall had been, and he loved the master bedroom. He commented that he would love the opportunity to make it look warmer. I could have felt insulted by that, but I understood, because it was completely monochromatic, with nothing but beige walls, drapes, everything, and very few accents. I just wasn't too interested in that part of my house after Dick died. A room that had once been yellow and inviting, I had changed all of it to these drab colors because I found no comfort here anymore. When the tour was finished, we went back to the kitchen to our coffee and pastries.

"This house is much nicer than any you've shown us!" Bob remarked, but he didn't have an accusing tone.

"Why, thank you. I have loved living here, but I think you may be right; I should look for a smaller place. After all, Jonathan is going off to college in the fall, and I certainly don't need all this room. I've also been wondering if I need to let this house go to really say good bye to my husband..."

"Mara, just what happened to your husband? We've only been able to figure out you aren't married to him anymore...of course, if you don't want to talk about it, I'm sorry I asked." Bob had such a sincere look in his eyes, and Marshall nodded his agreement, although I already knew him well enough now to realize he would never have asked such a direct question.

"He died," I answered. "He was in a fatal automobile accident. I never got to say good bye to him..." I knew if I continued to talk, I would cry, so I stopped.

"Mara," this time it was Marshall who spoke as he put his hand over mine. "That's horrible. We're sorry, so very sorry to have asked you."

"It's all right. You'd think that after all this time, I should be able to talk about it without tears, wouldn't you?"

"How long ago was it?" Bob asked. Again, it was a direct question, and I had to answer.

When I told him, "Thirteen years," I was prepared for his eyebrow to go up and it did. I was sure that neither of them had expected me to say that long ago. "And now it's my turn to change the subject abruptly. I definitely got the idea that you came here to ask me something specific, and I don't think that was the question. So, out with it, one of you!" I tried to put the sound of authority in my voice to lose the gloominess that had descended on the room.

"I'm not sure now's the right time," Marshall began, but I shook my head and said, "I made this coffee, I told you my sad story, now you MUST tell me what your idea is."

Bob didn't hesitate at all now. "Mara, we want you to come and see our condo, which we think is just what you'll be looking for when you sell this house. Then we want to see if we can work out a deal – trading residences."

At that moment, Lily, who apparently let herself in the front door, came waltzing into the kitchen. "You're trading what? Partners? Now, Bob, I know I was drunk last night, but I am positive that I heard you say you'd never swing the other way!"

That caused Marshall to burst out laughing, and the three of them started a trivial conversation, far removed from the idea Bob and Marshall had just thrown out to me. They made sure it never came up again, not in front of Lily, and we continued our little Sunday morning breakfast together like four old friends. Lily knew not to stay long enough for Jonathan to come home; she said she drove by and saw their car and not his, so she just had to stop. She told us talking about the things she had last night felt cathartic to her. She just wanted to say thank you, and wondered if we could get together again soon. When she got up to leave, Bob and Marshall also decided it was time to leave. As they left, we made plans to meet for lunch the following week.

I sat down on my front steps, feeling happy but totally overwhelmed at their proposal, and I resolved to get up early the next Sunday and go to church. I didn't do that every week, but I had a lot to talk to God about, and sometimes, the lessons on Sunday morning gave me the answers to the questions rolling around in my head.I was also intrigued that Bob and Marshall had stopped on their way home from church. I wondered what church they went to.

## Chapter 11

That week flew by, and our lunch together was far more successful than my dinner party. Of course, it was much shorter, and Patrick wasn't there, but we enjoyed each other's company and I knew we would continue to get together. Again, we didn't speak about their idea for trading residences in front of Lily, but Marshall found the opportunity to quietly tell me they were going to invite me to dinner soon so I could look at their place. I let him know I was definitely interested in the idea.

I also went to Jonathan's final track meet, and it hit me hard that this was the last time I'd be attending a high school event for my children. One of my few social activities revolved around events like this and visiting with the other parents...and that would no longer happen. A few of us decided we'd come watch the younger athletes just so we could enjoy the socializing that occurred, but I wondered if we really would.

Before I knew it, the week was over, and Jonathan went to his prom. He looked so handsome, and he invited me to go to Janey's to take pictures. There were three couples going together, and I was so happy he invited me be part of the night. As seems to be the custom these days, they would all go back to Janey's to spend the night after the prom, before heading to an amusement park the next morning. I smiled to myself that there was a definite advantage in knowing Jonathan was gay – I didn't have to worry about his girlfriend getting pregnant on senior prom night! Saturday was rather quiet until he came home – not until after dinner. He said they'd had a great time, all three couples, and he was clearly exhausted. He went to bed earlier on that Saturday night than he had in ages.

On Sunday morning, I kept to my plan from the last weekend. Church was early – at least the service I preferred. It began at 8:00, and I was glad to know I'd be back before Jonathan even woke up. We'd hardly had a chance to talk for a few days. I felt peace when I saw the first hymn was What a Friend We Have in Jesus. The words reminded me of the things I needed to do...take my thoughts to Him in prayer. But during the sermon, I discovered I was getting caught up on certain words the pastor said. "Love the sinner, hate the sinner." The context was for all wrongdoers...and he began listing them: alcoholics, drug addicts, and then he added homosexuals. I found myself, without any conscious decision, getting up and walking out of the church during the next hymn. All sorts of thoughts began running around in my head. What happened to "Judge not, lest ye shall be judged"? and "Love thy neighbor as thyself"? Wasn't judgment up to God alone? How could a person love and hate at the same time? Should we only love our neighbors if they are heterosexual? I was deep in such thoughts all the way home. When I pulled into the driveway, I saw a big black heap of something on my front steps. What on earth was it?

As I parked the car and opened the door, the heap began moving slowly. I froze, not comprehending what I was looking at, and it sat up as I realized it was a person...obviously a female with long matted hair and dressed entirely in black. Her eyes were rimmed in heavy black eyeliner which was somewhat smudged, and her lips had the remnants of black lipstick. Her black hair looked as if it hadn't been combed in a very long time, hanging in long wooly dreadlocks well past her shoulders. She swung her legs around to sit on the front step, and looked up at me with recognition as she rubbed her eyes.

"Hi! Remember me?" she asked. Her voice was raspy, and she began rummaging through a large black backpack as she expectantly waited for my response.

I had no idea who she was, but I stared at her, trying to figure it out. She drew a pack of cigarettes out of her back, along with a lighter, and proceeded to light one. She exhaled, and spoke again.

"You haven't changed much at all in five years, but I guess maybe I have...I'm Andrea, Mrs. Johnson."

"Andrea? Well, yes, that is you, isn't it? What happened to your hair?"

She giggled when I said that, touching the wooly mess, and I could see the smile was definitely the same as the thirteen-year-old girl who had moved away, but the rest had changed.

"I just meant that it used to be light brown..." I guess I was attempting not to comment on the ratted "style" of it, just the color change.

"That's okay...not too many adults think this hair is attractive. But it sure doesn't take much care...haven't had to comb it in months." She giggled again, and took another drag from the cigarette, then stomped it out with her sandaled foot. I noticed her toenails were painted black, along with her fingernails. She picked up the butt and put it into one of the many side pockets of her backpack. "So, I bet you're surprised to see me here. Jonathan didn't know I was coming, either. In fact, we haven't really been in touch with each other for over a year."

I nodded to acknowledge that I knew that. Their correspondence had dwindled over the years since she had moved. Initially, they had emailed each other at least once a week, then it went to every month or so, and Jonathan had told me last Christmas was the first one that he hadn't even received a card or email from her, even though he had sent one. I also knew that her parents had divorced a year or two after they had moved, and after that she had moved two more times, once with her mother, and then to live with her father in Florida.

She broke the silence, asking, "So, is Jonathan here?"

"Yes, Andrea, he's here...probably still in bed. Come on in...you can wake him, or if you'd like, we can have some breakfast." I wondered exactly what I was letting into my house as we went through the front door. She answered me with great enthusiasm, "Breakfast sounds real good."

Immediately, she asked if she could use the bathroom...she remembered right where it was. I went into the kitchen to get out some things for breakfast, and I realized I had quite a few questions to ask her. From the pantry, I took out some muffins and cereal, and suddenly, there she was, standing right beside me. She had taken off her long black Dracula-like cape, and I noticed she looked rather thin. She hung her backpack on the back of one of the chairs, and I asked her to get the milk and juice from the refrigerator, which she did, commenting, "This isn't the same fridge you had when I left, but most everything else seems the same." She quickly made herself at home, opening the cupboard where we kept the bowls. She took out one bowl, then turned to me and asked if she should get one out for me, too.

"No thanks," I answered, "I'll just have some coffee and a muffin."

"Coffee sounds great," she smiled and poured herself a generous bowl of cereal. It was obvious she was hungry, but I knew I had to start asking questions.

"Andrea, where do I begin? How are your parents?" She made a face when I asked that, but that didn't stop me from asking more. "How did you get here? Do they know where you are?"

"You sure haven't changed much, Mrs. Johnson," she squinted as she looked at me close-up. "You always used to ask Jonathan and me a lot of questions, and you look exactly the same!"

"Well, how about answering a few of my questions?" I pressed, understanding instinctively that she wasn't here because her life was all good. "Shouldn't you be in school?"

"School? That ended last week – Florida schools close early for the summer. I graduated...guess Jonathan did, too?"

"He will, in another two weeks. Where are you going to college?" I asked yet another question, but I really wanted to know how she got here – especially all the way from Florida – and if her parents knew. I had known them fairly well before they left, and I was sure they hadn't just dropped her off on my doorstep.

"College." She said the word as if it were a complete sentence, giving it great consideration. "It's kind of hard to go to college with no money, Mrs. Johnson, and I didn't earn very good grades at either of my last two high schools."

That really surprised me, because she had been a very good student before they moved away. "Your last two high schools? How many did you go to?"

"Three...when we first moved to Ohio, I loved it there, and I did great in school, just like here. But then, Mom and Dad got divorced, and Mom and I had to move to an apartment, and I had to change schools. It was a lot rougher, and I really hated to go. Mom went to work early in the morning before school began, and I didn't always get up and go everyday." She paused...shoveling in some more cereal, and continued. "I have to admit I wasn't the easiest daughter – and she was having a hard time coping with the divorce. I finally went to live with Dad, who had moved to Florida."

"Does anyone know you're here?" I didn't get an answer to my question, because at that moment, Jonathan walked into the kitchen. His hair was all tousled and he was just wearing boxers.

"My God, you've gotten so much taller!" Andrea shrieked and jumped up from the table, giving him a huge hug. He stood there, stiff as a board, and didn't hug back. He looked at me questioningly...finally she drew back and looked him square in the face.

"Jonzo..." and that was enough of a clue.

"Andes! I can't believe it! What on earth is all over your eyes? Where's your hair?" He lifted a lock of the matted rope.

"Well thanks, you look great, too," she had a sulky whine to her voice, but she bounced right back. "Actually, you look mahvelous!" She looked him up and down and hugged him again. "Your mom offered me some breakfast while we waited for you to wake up. Want some?"

"Sure..." he answered haltingly. "But how did you get here? Why are you here? And what's with the hair – are those dreadlocks? And why are you wearing all that black? You haven't turned into a goth, have you?"

She sat back down and ate a little more cereal as he poured himself some juice and got out a muffin. I poured two cups of coffee and set one in front of her. She didn't seem to be in a hurry to answer his questions, either, and it was driving me crazy. Jonathan, who is more patient than I am, just sat there, slowly eating as he waited for her to answer him. Finally, she began speaking.

"How did I get here? I walked part of the way, I hitchhiked part of the way, and I even took a few bus rides. It's taken me a week. Why am I here? I wanted to see you...I wanted to feel friendship...I haven't really had a close friend since you, Jonz." Her eyes filled up with tears, and even the harsh black eyeliner couldn't hide the emotion she was feeling.

He reached over and rubbed her shoulder, trying to comfort her. "I've missed you, too, Andes." His words were soft and she glowed in their warmth. Trying to lighten the mood, he commented, "But I really don't like the hair!"

"The truth is, neither do I," she responded. "I don't know how to get rid of it, and I didn't want to anyway until I had left my father's. It really annoyed his wife! I also thought it made me look scarier as I made this trip – nobody bothered me the whole way!"

I picked up a lock and felt it. It felt like wool, and really didn't resemble hair. Andrea scrunched up her nose and said, "Doesn't even feel like hair anymore, does it? I'm ready to get rid of them, but I'm not sure how. Do you think I'll have to shave my head?" Then she turned to Jonathan and told him about all the black. "My step-mother thinks I'm horrible, a bad person, that I'm evil. She told me almost everyday. So I decided to dress in black...you know black is for evil, white is for good..."

I cleared my throat so they would both look at me, because for the most part, I hadn't been included in their conversation. "Andrea, I think you might need to make some phone calls. Neither of your parents know where you are, do they?" She shook her head, agreeing with my statement. "About your hair, I really wouldn't mind helping you get rid – I mean, cut it."

"Thanks, Mrs. Johnson. If I could just take a shower first, I'll call them. I don't expect my father even knows yet – I left when he was away on a business trip, and you can bet Joan wouldn't tell him. She's probably hoping I never go back, and I'm not planning to! About my mom...I'm sure she doesn't know I'm missing from Florida. I was awful to her before I moved in with Dad, and I haven't spoken to her much in a long time." She paused for a minute, and her eyes looked sad again, like she might cry. "I would like to call her. Before I do, though, can we talk about how long I can stay?"

I looked over at Jonathan to see his reaction before I answered her. He looked as surprised as I was by her request, so I simply said, "We can talk about that after you've called your mom." She just shrugged, and picked up her backpack.

"Do you want me to use Gabby's room, at least for tonight?" But before I answered, she added, "I'm guessing you don't want me to smoke in the house, right?"

"What are you talking about, smoking?" Jonathan was dumbfounded.

"Chill, Jonzo, it's just another bad habit I picked up to annoy my stepmother."

"Well, she's not here, so you can't annoy her with it..." He was clearly not going along with her smoking, so she just shrugged, said, "No problem," and went up stairs.

I hadn't answered her about using Gabby's room, but that was where she could stay. However, I realized her visit here had involved some planning on her part; it was clearly not a spur of the moment decision.

"Oh, dear, Jon, what is going on here?" I looked at him with real worry in my eyes.

"I'm as surprised as you are. Sounds like she's been through a lot, doesn't it? She looks horrible, but she seems like the old Andes underneath it all."

I recognized something in Jonathan's voice – something real, and not stilted – that had been missing in so many of our conversations since the day he'd told me he was gay. Our exchanges had often felt so guarded. That softened me, and I answered, "Let's see how her mom reacts when she calls her. We'll figure this out."

Together we cleaned up the kitchen, and when Andrea came downstairs after her shower, the black eyeliner was gone from her face. She was a bit more recognizable, but still dressed all in black, and those woolly dreadlocks were still there. She and Jonathan decided to walk up to the park...the phone call to her mother could wait just a little longer. I changed out of my church clothes so I could work in the yard. I had fifteen bags of mulch in the garage that needed spreading, and I couldn't think of anything that I would rather do at the moment.

## Chapter 12

I was up to my elbows in cedar mulch on the side of the house when I heard them come back and sit down on the front porch. This time, Andrea lit a cigarette without asking, but when she saw Jonathan's look of disgust, she said,

"I'm really going to quit...very soon. As soon as I know I won't be living with Joan. Really!!"

I gathered Jonathan must have looked doubtful, and it was then that I heard a car pull into the driveway. Before I stood up, I thought I recognized Marshall's voice, but the accent was different now.

"Looka da young'un! Da hair is sumpin' special, pretty la-dee."

I just could make out enough of Jonathan's face to see the look of utter dismay. Of course, he had no idea who Marshall was, but I think he was more surprised that anyone would think Andrea's hair was nice. Marshall obviously read the confused look on Jonathan's face and didn't miss a beat as he stuck out his hand, and in his normal voice said, "You must be Jonathan. Hi, I'm Marshall."

Jonathan returned the handshake, but still looked rather puzzled. But Marshall turned back to Andrea, and in the first accent said, "And who might dis lovely la-dee be?"

Before she answered him, I came around to the front of the house as I pealed off my gardening gloves. Marshall took long strides over to me, and gave me a little hug as he said, "Mara, I hope you don't mind me stopping by again without an invitation, but I just had to know if you'd thought about my idea?" He had spoken quietly enough that neither Jon nor Andrea heard what he said.

Now Jonathan looked downright perplexed. He had no idea who this man was, this man who I clearly knew.

"Marshall! It's so nice to see you! I heard you introduce yourself to Jonathan, and this is his long lost friend, Andrea."

Andrea said "Hey," but it was clear she couldn't figure out who he was, how I knew him, and why he had two different accents. "You really like my hair?" she finally asked.

Back in the accent, he answered, "Oh yes, very much. Had da dreads myself back in da day."

"Back in what day?" I asked, shocked that this beautiful, clean-cut man had ever been anything else.

"My university days, Mara! Lots of the brothers had the Rastafarian look going back then! Actually, some still do!"

"I just can't picture it," I giggled, then realized I still hadn't told Jonathan my connection with Marshall. I felt a bit reluctant, actually more timid than reluctant, as I explained, "Jonathan, Marshall is a client of mine, and he came to dinner when Patrick was here."

A look of comprehension spread over Jonathan's face, and more than that, but I couldn't figure out exactly what. In any event, he said to Marshall, "Please don't tell me you think her hair really looks good! She's a mess!"

"Jonzo! That's not nice. I already told you I didn't want to keep it. Hey, Marshall, if you used to have dreads, but don't any more, maybe you could tell me how to get rid of them?" Then more quietly, Andrea continued, "Do I have to shave my head?"

"Ah, so da young man do'n like da hair?" Marshall picked up a lock of the wool, then reached up to her scalp. "May I touch up here?" She nodded, and he parted the hair, revealing light brown roots, over an inch long, and nearly two more inches of straight, black, un-dread locked hair. "So you're not a natural raven haired beauty! No, you won't have to shave your hair, although that IS how I got rid of mine. You have about three inches of your own hair under that, uh, "mess" as Jonathan calls it."

"You think if we cut it just a little longer than that, we might get her real hair back?" I asked the question, because I still was having trouble seeing Andrea, at least the Andrea I remembered, under that black head of dreadful dreadlocks.

"Well, I'm not a hairdresser, but I think so," Marshall was sincere, but he smiled broadly. "I can't picture her any other way, though!" He hesitated a moment, then continued, "Now, you know I came here to ask you a question." He was quiet again, and I hoped he would realize I didn't want to answer his question in front of Jon. Also, I was feeling a bit concerned that he might mention Bob – once he did, I felt worried that Andrea would figure things out. In my motherly way, I felt protective of Jonathan, not really knowing what Andrea knew and not wanting to be the one to reveal anything. I didn't know how she'd react, but inwardly, I realized I hoped that perhaps I could soften her up on the subject of "gay" before she said something that might hurt him. I was silent for a few uncomfortable minutes, trying to decide if I should invite Marshall in or walk him to the car, when Andrea announced that she thought this would be the right time to call her mother.

Jonathan jumped up and said, "Sounds good...I'll come in with you." They both told Marshall they had enjoyed meeting him. As they were walking inside, I heard Andrea asked Jonathan, "So is your mother dating that guy? He seems a bit younger than her." I didn't get to hear Jonathan's response because they went inside. As the door closed behind them, Marshall and I sat on the steps nearly at the same time, as each of us said the other's name. We both laughed, and he said, "You first."

"Honestly, I really haven't had a chance to give your big idea a lot of thought, and I don't want to talk about it in front of Jonathan yet, but my initial reaction is that I'm open to it. Of course, I must see your condo before I can think seriously about it."

"And that is exactly why I've stopped over. Bob had to work for a few hours today, and we decided we'd like you to come to our place for dinner...next Sunday afternoon. How's that sound?" It sounded great to me. I really enjoyed Marshall, and I was curious to see if their condo would be right for me. Plus that would give me all week to look at other places I might consider...something else I should have been considering for a while now, but kept avoiding.

"Yes, Sunday afternoon sounds great. What should I bring?"

"I'd tell you to bring your friend, Lily...she was pretty entertaining, really, but only if you want her to be in on this idea. Or I had thought you might want to bring Jonathan."

"Marshall, remember I told you Lily isn't exactly my friend? She's more of an acquaintance, really. A friend would never have done that to Jonathan. I'll admit, she's turned out to be quite complicated, as we all experienced at my dinner. She was quite a bit of fun at our lunch, wasn't she? I hadn't known that about her husband until just recently." I paused for a minute, thinking that was a really uncomfortable thing for me to say to Marshall. Then I continued, "I wasn't asking who I should bring, anyway. I was asking what you'd like me to bring."

"You don't have to bring a thing," he answered. "We'll take care of dinner."

I wondered if he found my dinner food too ordinary, but I simply said, "I'd love to come."

We set the time, and Marshall left because he was going to church. I suppressed my desire to ask what church he went to; after my experience this morning, I wondered if he had a church that would make him feel accepted more than he would have with me this morning. He also reminded me that the four of us – Lily, Bob, himself and me- already had lunch plans again during the week. Rather than going back to the mulch, I went inside to see how Andrea's phone call was going.

## Chapter 13

When I stepped inside, Jonathan met me in the foyer and whispered that Andrea had begun crying before she finished dialing the number. When her mother answered, she tried to tell her the situation, but her crying made it hard for her to explain. This is when I came in. Before she was able to get out the entire story of how she arrived here, she was sobbing uncontrollably. I gently took the phone from her and Jonathan hugged her as he tried to calm her down. Her mother was also crying, partly because she hadn't even known her daughter had left Florida, and partly, she said, because Andrea sounded like her old self for the first time in nearly two years. I provided comfort as I told her mother I really thought Andrea was going to be all right – that she could stay for a little while until we figured out how to get her back home, or back to her mother.

"Mara, thank you so much," Ginny said. "It's really interesting that she ended up there, since I'd just begun thinking that maybe I should have moved back there after the divorce. She really had a rough time after it. I'll have to drive out there to pick her up, but I need to make arrangements at work. It might take a week to get it worked out... Can I call you back as soon as I've got it figured out?"

That would be fine, I told her. And I hoped it would be. Then I gave the phone back to Andrea, who was calm enough to talk now. Jonathan and I left the room so they could have some privacy.

"Are you all right with her staying? It sounds like it might be at least a week, maybe longer?" I looked hard at Jonathan, leaving unsaid the other questions I had. I wondered what it would be like for him to have his old best friend here, and I hoped he'd be honest with his answer.

"I think it will be fine, Mom. In some ways it feels like she never left, but she's been through a really bad time. I don't really know what she'll do all day while I'm at school, but she definitely wants to see some of the kids she remembers, and I think that would be a great idea." He lowered his voice before he added, "I sure hope we can get rid of those dreadlocks before that!"

"Actually, I thought I'd offer to work on them with her after dinner, and if we ruin it, I can take her to get a decent cut tomorrow."

"Mom, I haven't told her...yet." Jon's voice was faltering, as he struggled with what he was trying to say. "I will tell her...but I don't know how she'll take it."

"I wondered that too. If I can help –"

He interrupted me and emphatically told me he'd deal with it and that conversation ended as Andrea walked in the room. She gave me a hug, and thanked me over and over. Then she grabbed Jonathan and said, "This will be just like when we were little and had sleepovers!" Then she turned back to me and asked if she could please wash her clothes...they hadn't been laundered since she left Florida.

"Maybe after dinner we could work on the hair?" I asked as kindly as I could, trying not to sound overly enthusiastic.

"Sounds great to me! I bet some of the kids I want to see would NOT be into dreadlocks!"

Jonathan agreed with her quickly, but he left the room suddenly and came back with his camera. "We just have to get a picture of them, though!" He was serious, but he had a twinkle in his eye that I hadn't seen for some time.

I ended up taking a couple of pictures of the two of them together, and Jonathan said he had to do some homework while she did her laundry. I thought maybe Andrea's unexpected visit was going to work out after all.

Later, as we worked on her hair in the bathroom, Andrea brought up Marshall.

"Marshall was something else, Mrs. Johnson. How can he speak with the Rastafarian accent, and also with that other, sexy one?"

"I'm guessing from having grown up in Jamaica, although he hasn't lived there for nearly twenty years." She was seated on the toilet, and I was cutting off the dreadlocks, one by one, trying to leave as much hair on her head as I could.

"He sure is hot!" she exclaimed, and hesitated before continuing. "How long have you been dating him?"

"Dating him? I'm not dating him, Andrea! What made you think that?"

"You're not? Then how do you know him? I thought that because of the way he greeted you. I could tell he said something private..."

"He's actually a client of mine. I'm helping him buy a house! We have made a friendship, though, different from any other clients I've ever had." I laughed as I thought about dating Marshall. "Andrea, I know you noticed he's a LOT younger than me!"

"I don't think people worry about that much any more. You know Joan is twelve years younger than my dad."

"No, I didn't know that! How awkward for you. She's only a dozen years older than you, isn't she?"

Andrea nodded. "It really sucks," she said sadly. I continued choosing one dreadlock at a time and cutting it about an inch longer than the outgrowth. It was taking time, but we continued our conversation.

"Would it be better for you back with your mother?"

"Probably, but I really don't have any friends in Ohio. And I really don't know what I'm going to do now that high school is over."

"Give it some time. Maybe you could think about a community college? You were always such a good student, Andrea. I can't believe you're not thinking of college."

"Oh, I do think about it, especially after hearing how excited Jonathan is. But my GPA was really bad..."

"So you told me. Did you even bother to take your SAT?"

She shook her head no, so I suggested that she might prepare for it some on the computer during the day while Jonathan was at school. She said that sounded like a good idea, and finally, I had no more dreadlocks to cut off.

"Are you ready to look? First, look at the floor, all the hair on it!"

She looked down and was amazed. "What a huge pile of dreads! Dead dreads!" She giggled again, and looked at me very seriously. "I'm ready to look..."

"Just remember, we still have to get the color fixed, and we need to see if we can comb out the last inch. But I am starting to see the old Andrea now!"

She stood up and looked in the mirror over the sink. She shrieked, "Thank you so much!" And she started hugging me, even though in my opinion, her hair was really still quite a mess. It had no shape and was two distinct colors: light brown for an inch or so, then jet black. There was also about an inch of matted mess at the ends.

After her excited outburst, she looked closer into the mirror. "I think I should change the color...this black and brown look isn't good, is it? And do you have a comb? Let's see if I can comb out the rest or if that has to be cut, too."

I handed her a comb, and suggested I could make an appointment with a hairdresser the next day.

"I don't really have any money, Mrs. G." Andrea said seriously.

"Let's consider it a gift..." but she started to protest, so I added, "to Jonathan. He really didn't care for the dreadlocks, you know."

She smiled when I said that, and she agreed to let me pay for it.

After dinner that night, the three of us sat at the kitchen table and played Scrabble, just like we had years ago, before Andrea had moved. And just like things were before she had moved away, she and Jonathan beat me soundly, and they were as competitive as ever towards each other about winning. I left to go to bed after losing, and I'm not sure how long they stayed up.

After Jonathan left for school the next morning, I showed Andrea where my computer was, and I told her I'd come back during my lunch hour to take her to the hairdresser if I was able to get an appointment. That turned out to be no problem; I called Gabby's old stylist and told her the situation. I gave her the okay to cut it, dye it, and whatever else she could do to make Andrea feel happy with her looks. The salon was three blocks from my office, so I told Andrea to walk over when she was done, and I would be able to leave early.

I couldn't believe the young woman who walked into the office three hours later was the same person who had been on my front steps the day before. Her hair was brown with some blond high lights, styled in the new tousled way that was very becoming. Her black toenails and fingernails were bronze colored now, and she was beaming.

"Mrs. J! Do you like it?" She twirled around, and now she was definitely Andrea. Her hair was beautiful – the stylist had done a remarkable job at shaping it up so that she looked like the lovely young girl I had imagined she would grow up to be.

"Oh, Andrea, you look beautiful!"

"I really like it, too! And she hugged me for the fourth time in two days while saying, "Thank you so much!" over and over.

"I imagine Jonathan will like it better than the "dreads" I said, before she let go of me. I wished I hadn't said it, because I didn't want to make her think of him as anything more than her good friend. Yet I found myself continually bringing him up...

"I have to tell you something, Mrs. J." Andrea pulled away from the hug and as we left the salon, she looked rather serious. My thoughts immediately went to Jonathan, but she continued, "I noticed there was a sign in the window that they were looking for a receptionist, and while the stylist was working on my hair, I asked about the job. Turns out it has pretty regular hours, and she said the job is mine if I want it. I didn't mention I might only be here for a week or two. The job seems like it would be a good idea at least until my mom gets here..."

This announcement rendered me speechless. It was becoming quite clear that her plan to come here had involved a lot of thought, and it was clear she was hoping to stay for longer than a week. This young woman, who had been so close to my son for so many years, was full of surprises. Inwardly, I considered the fact that she also had a big surprise coming from Jonathan, unless she already had figured it out. I was pretty sure she hadn't.

She could see she had totally surprised me, and as we walked to my car, she spoke again, after what must have been sixty seconds of silence, "I can begin tomorrow. What do you think...should I try it and see how it works out? It's just that I don't really know what to do now that I've finished high school, and -"

I cut her off, saying, "Andrea! It's not a bad idea at all, and at least until you're mother gets here I think you should try it. I'm rather surprised, that's all." I looked at her again, and with her new hair, I could no longer see the image that had been on my front porch just yesterday morning. It seemed hard to believe that she had transformed so quickly, but with no evil stepmother to get back at, she had no reason to hold on to the mess. I heard myself make a suggestion as we drove home, "Why don't we go home, get Jonathan, and go out for dinner tonight?"

## Chapter 14

I was anxious to go to the newest restaurant in town. I had read about it in the newspaper, and Bob and Marshall had mentioned it to me, saying the food was delicious and the atmosphere unique. Marshall had told me some of the food was Caribbean fare. The write-up in the newspaper had warned me about the bizarre colors on the interior, although on the outside it was an ordinary brownstone with a wooden sign hanging over the door. "Our House," the sign read. But once we walked through the door, we nearly gasped. The floor was painted a bright, almost neon green. The walls were mauve, and had an iridescent glow. The tables and chairs, all painted wood, were busy looking, seemingly all just a bit different from each other. As I took in the room, I realized all of the tables were either yellow or black, each with some type of modern art-looking picture painted on the table top, and the chairs were painted in colors that matched the pictures.

About half the seats were filled, which surprised me since we were rather early for dinner. Andrea, never at a loss for words, commented, "This is amazing! How did you know about it?"

As I started to answer her, a tall, slender, caramel-skinned young woman approached us. She was dressed in a long, flowing black and gold print dress, with a rather large head tie that matched. "Good evening! Welcome to Our House. Would you like a table for three, or is someone else joining you?" With no hair showing to distract from her face, her large, dark brown almond shaped eyes attracted all the attention. I found them mesmerizing, and since I didn't answer, Jonathan answered her, "A table for three."

Our table was next to the wall and from its vantage point, we could see every seat in the place. There were about twenty-five tables, but they were well spaced. As I sat down in the chair that was against the wall with Andrea and Jonathan on either side of me, I noticed the tabletop had a thick, glass covering to protect the painting. It wasn't really modern art, but rather a scene of people dancing by a river, black figures in bright clothes next to a greenish-blue flowing river with a few fish peeking out of it. The hostess handed us our menus, which were large laminated cards, and said, "R.J. will be your waiter tonight, and he'll tell you about our specials. I hope you enjoy your dinner!" With that, she bowed rather regally, gently picked up the fourth, unused chair along with the place setting, and disappeared down a yellow hallway that a sign that said "RESTROOMS" written over it.

Jonathan reiterated Andrea's question. "How'd you find out about this place, Mom? It's very...." He didn't even finish his sentence, when a handsome young man approached. "Good evening! I hope you all brought your appetites, because this is going to be the best meal you've ever had!" He was just a little older than Jonathan, well-tanned, with some sun-bleached blonde streaks coming through his light brown hair. He was dressed in a tropical print short-sleeved shirt and khaki slacks, and although I was pretty sure he was R.J., the waiter, nothing about his appearance made it obvious he was a waiter. He just looked like a casually dressed, handsome young man who wanted us to enjoy our evening. He continued, "I'm R.J., your waiter for this evening, and before you look at the menu, let me tell you about tonight's specials." He went on to tell us about appetizers and main dishes, all without notes, and with a great deal of detail and enthusiasm. The first special he described was an appetizer of freshly made skillet made cornbread. His description, that it had been made the old-fashioned way with lard, made my mouth water. Then he said tonight they had a special price on the shrimp appetizer on the menu. He also told us about a fried, fresh, whole fish with a cumin rub and peanut sauce. He handed us the menus and said he would be back to answer any questions. He asked if we wanted to know about the drink specials, but since Andrea and Jonathan were underage and I didn't want one tonight, we declined. R.J. took our beverage orders, again without writing them down, and when he left, Andrea commented on his looks after he walked away. "Pretty hot guy, but I have my doubts. What do you think, Jonzo, gay waiter?"

She seemed to ask it innocently enough, and Jonathan flashed me a look that I could only be interpreted one way: he had not yet told her. Before I had a chance to open my mouth to say anything, he suavely changed the subject. "Andrea, the hair looks great. You look great... and I can't believe you got a job!"

Taking his cue, I commented on how tantalizing the specials had sounded and asked them what they thought looked good on the menu. Andrea dropped the subject as she focused on what to order. The awkward moment passed, but I knew Jonathan was going to have to tell her and the sooner, the better. It wasn't my problem, though I would help him if I could or if he wanted the help, which he had made clear he did not. I focused on having a wonderful dinner, which it indeed turned out to be. R.J. was a perfect waiter, appearing when we needed something, but not overbearing. His demeanor continued to be friendlier than most waiters, but he was professional at the same time. The restaurant filled up within a half-hour, but we never felt rushed to give up our seats. When our cornbread arrived, it was made to perfection, crispy on the outside and fluffy in the center, with plenty of fresh butter. We were sorry we had only ordered one appetizer as we ate it.

I love sitting in restaurants ands looking at all the customers; there certainly was a diverse clientele here. Seeing young and old, mixed races, and both opposite and same sex couples and groups made me happy, although I wondered if a few short weeks ago, I probably wouldn't have noticed or felt that way. Surprisingly, the place wasn't too noisy, even though it was open concept seating. I could hear Caribbean music in the background, but it didn't take over the room. As the food was brought to other tables, again my mouth watered. The smells were amazing. Really, this was a wonderful restaurant, I thought as Andrea and Jonathan engaged in a conversation I really couldn't join about some of their old friends from grammar school.

When R.J. brought our food, we couldn't believe our eyes. Each of us had ordered something different from the menu. Jonathan had ordered the fish special, and the size of it seemed large enough for all three of us. It was a whole red snapper with peanut sauce with freshly ground peanuts grated on top. It appeared to be cooked to perfection. Andrea had ordered jerk catfish. It was served with a fresh mango salsa, fried plantains and greens. My dish was something I had never eaten before. I felt like trying something brand new, so I had ordered a goat curry. According to the menu description, it was made with boneless sirloin goat meat in a Caribbean curry over a bed of rice.

"Enjoy your meal," R.J. said when he put the dishes in front of us.

"Mrs. J, I can not believe you ordered goat!" Andrea looked at my plate. "But it looks and smells delicious."

"Jonathan, I hope you plan to share that! You, too, Andrea. Please try mine, too."

We dug into our dinners, tried each others, and we couldn't decide which dinner was the best. They were all delicious and well worth the wait, which really wasn't long. Each dish was very different from the others, and we were enjoying the food so much, we didn't talk a lot during the meal, but we each commented on how much we liked the painted tabletop. It wasn't long, though, before we had cleaned our plates.

With my plate empty, I excused myself to go to the restroom. I went down the yellow hallway I had watched the hostess bring our extra chair. The first room was darkened, but I could see it contained tables and chairs. I had been curious to look at some of the other tabletop paintings because ours was so interesting to study during dinner. I paused at the entrance, deciding whether or not I should turn on the light switch. It was at that moment I heard R.J. back at our table, talking to Jon and Andrea.

"You two sweethearts finally have a little time alone, without the mother-figure?"

Jonathan didn't hesitate, and answered, "Oh, we're not together." I would have liked to see how Andrea reacted to that, but her back was to me, and I decided to go ahead into the storage room. Some things are better if a mother doesn't hear, but I didn't have much doubt about R.J. now. I thought he was fishing to see if his "gaydar" was working! Putting that thought aside, I found the light switch on the wall. I flicked it on, and immediately, began studying the painted scenes on the five or six tables in this storage room. Each one was a bit different, depicting gaily dressed people dancing, walking, or playing alongside that same blue-green river with colorful fish poking out of the water here and there. Each painting had the exact colors of the walls and floors of the restaurant in and each one portrayed a mood of happiness. The tables had the same artist's signature on the corner of each, but I couldn't actually read the name.

As I was studying the tables, Andrea walked quickly past the door, and went into the women's restroom. She hadn't seen me. I turned out the lights and left the storage room with a quick glance back at the table. I saw R.J. and Jonathan talking, and R.J. reached into his pants pocket. He pulled out a pen and small pad, though we had not seen him use one throughout our dinner. He wrote something on the pad, ripped it out and handed it to my son, who folded it and put in his shirt pocket. They both nodded and smiled, and R.J. left.

I walked into the bathroom, where Andrea was studying her new hair style in the mirror. She asked me if I had gone into the men's restroom by mistake, since I had excused myself from the table several minutes ago. I explained to her about looking at the tables, but rather than respond to that, I could sense she was rather agitated.

"What's the matter, Andrea, did the food not agree with you?"

"The food was great, Mrs. J. Thanks for the great dinner. After you left, the waiter came over and started talking, and it was the weirdest thing, Mrs. J., I felt completely left out. It was as if he was talking only to Jon, and I might as well have been invisible. I've never felt that way before."

I really didn't know how to respond, so I mumbled, "That is odd, Andrea," and went into the stall. I thought I knew what was going on, after all I had seen part of the exchange, too, but Andrea was confused by the situation and I knew it wasn't my job to say anything more to her.

"You know," I said from inside the stall, "I think I'd like to take a walk on the beach after such a big meal."

"That sounds great!" she said enthusiastically. "I haven't been to the beach here for five years. I always loved it."

## Chapter 15

On the way home, Jonathan mentioned he thought he might like to go to "Our Place" for his graduation dinner instead of the restaurant we had planned.

"I think Gabby would really like it, don't you?"

I had no objection to changing our plans; it was such a unique place! But after the exchange I had seen, I wondered if he was hoping to see R.J. again...

Jonathan chose not to go to the beach with us, so I dropped him off at home before Andrea and I went on our way. The atmosphere in the car was rather strained between the two of them; in fact, Jonathan avoided direct conversation with Andrea. Although she had been enthusiastic about my suggestion, I'm not sure she really wanted to go to the beach with just me, but she wasn't comfortable with Jonathan at the moment. As he got out of the car, he said not to worry if he wasn't home when we got back.

Andrea burst out crying as we pulled away from the house. "I don't know what I'm crying about, Mrs. J. It's not like we had a fight, or that we're boyfriend and girlfriend. I don't even feel that way about Jonathan. He's just my good friend, like my brother, really, and I just don't understand what's going on tonight. First, he and that waiter ignored me, and now he didn't even speak to me in the car!"

"It sounds like he made you feel left out," I began. "And from what you've told me, you haven't felt like you've belonged any place until you showed up here Sunday morning."

"That's true." She dabbed at the tears with the tissue I gave her. "Since I've been here, it's been wonderful to be with people who seem to care about me. But now I'm feeling...not cared about again." She said that with a very sad edge to her voice.

I told her I knew Jonathan cared about her. I thought as soon as she made some friends, or renewed acquaintances she knew here, she wouldn't feel Jonathan was the only one. And the mother in me pointed out to her that it might be a lot of pressure for Jonathan to be the only one in her life...After I said that, the rest of the ride to the beach was quiet.

Because school wasn't out for the summer yet, the beach wasn't too crowded. Once it was truly summer time, it was packed. I was able to get a parking space on the street right closest to the water. It was not quite sunset, and as we walked onto the sand, I stopped to take off my sandals.

Andrea's mood had begun to mellow and she giggled, and followed suit, saying, "I wouldn't have guessed you were a barefoot on the beach type, Mrs. J."

"I'm just being practical, really. Sometimes I come here and walk during my lunch hour, and I've discovered that sand isn't that easy to walk on...let's get a little closer to the water where the ground is firmer."

As we walked, we passed a few others taking an evening stroll. There was a family with a little boy trying to fly a kite, and a young couple holding hands. There were a few people sitting on the sand, too, and just as we walked by two men, one gently reached over and hugged the other one. It was clearly more than a friendly hug.

Andrea looked at me to see my reaction, but I had none. "Doesn't that bother you, Mrs. J.?"

"Doesn't what bother me?"

She looked back at the couple, nodding at them. "That. The gay couple scene."

"Andrea, why should it bother me?"

"You are surprising me, Mrs. J," she said. "Most people from your generation think that gays and lesbians should stay in the closet, like back in your day. I couldn't help notice there were several couples at the restaurant."

I giggled when she said back in my day, and without even thinking, I said, "Andrea, back in my day they didn't all stay in the closet. Why, don't you remember our family friend, Patrick?" To myself, I wondered if I should have said that much. Would one thing lead to another? If I told her about Patrick, should I tell her about Bob and Marshall? How much telling was fair to Jonathan?

She thought for a minute and said, "The actor guy? That good-looking guy? No way - you're telling me he's....." She stopped, because she could tell that was exactly what I was telling her. Before she could say anything, I started telling her the whole story of how Jonathan's dad and I had met through Patrick, and I finished by saying, "So you see, not everyone stayed in the closet way back then." I tried to add some levity with that, but for a long time, Andrea didn't say anything. We turned around and started heading back to the car; it was not dark yet but the sun was setting as an orange ball in the sky. We passed the same gay couple, and now they were holding hands and enjoying the beautiful view. Andrea could not take her eyes off them. Finally I poked her.

It startled her, and she started to talk to me again. "Mrs. J., all my life I heard that such negative things about gays from my dad. My mom always jumped on his case about it, asking him who gave him the right to judge. It was one of the million things they disagreed about. I guess my dad...he's a real homophobe. I always thought it was his generation, your generation, and that Mom was just disagreeing with him because they seemed to disagree about everything. But after hearing you tonight..." She trailed off, obviously thinking some more. I worried that I had backed myself into somewhat of a corner...but I did not want to say anything else. When would I tell her about Marshall? She hadn't met Bob yet. Had I told her too much already by discussing Patrick, and would it cause a problem with Jonathan? Even more than that, would he be upset with me that I had discussed this with her?

When we got to the car, we hadn't spoken for several minutes, each of us deep in our own thoughts. "I'm thinking about the comment I made back at the restaurant," Andrea said.

"About the waiter being gay?" I asked. I felt myself flush from the anxiety caused by the direction the conversation was taking, fully aware that I was treading on very thin ice now. I definitely did not want to talk about Jonathan, not now anyway. We each got into the car, and I began to drive home.

"I guess I need to watch those kinds of comments, don't I?" Andrea looked me right in the face. She was obviously thinking hard about this topic, but I wasn't sure if she was relating it to Jon.

Where was Patrick when I needed him? I chose my words carefully as I answered her. "Andrea, the older I get, the more I realize how many things come out of my mouth, everyone's mouth, that hurt someone else with absolutely no intent to do that." And that's where I ended the conversation, as I attempted to deftly move on to another topic. "Now, Andrea, you are going to work tomorrow, and I wondered if you had anything to wear?

"Well, I talked to the salon owner, and she told me anything but jeans would be fine. I have a lot of clothes stuffed in my duffel bag, and I'm sure I can find something."

"Did you look in Gabby's closet and dresser? She left quite a bit home...especially summer clothes. I know she wouldn't mind if you borrowed something."

Andrea said she hadn't looked, that it would be great, and maybe when we got home we could look together. She started playing with her new haircut, pulling down the visor to look at herself in the mirror.

"Karen, the hairdresser, said she would fix my hair tomorrow if I can't get it right..." and she continued chattering about her new job the rest of the way home. Jonathan wasn't there when we got home. We heard him come in a little while later while we were putting together some outfits for Andrea to wear to work. I was finding it quite enjoyable, and realized I missed the girly things Gabby and I used to do. Andrea had brought a lot of clothes with her; I couldn't believe how much she had stuffed into her bag. Again, the planning that had gone into her trip here was obvious. Jonathan looked in at us, said it looked like fun but he was going to do a little homework and turn in for the night. Before he left, he said, "Andrea, if you want to meet some of the kids Wednesday night, I have it all set up."

"Sounds great to me!" She answered, and she looked relieved as he said good night. Before we were finished going through the clothes, her mother called. I answered the phone, and Ginny told me she had arranged to work for the next twelve days, and then take her week's vacation.

"Is that all right with you? It means Andrea will be with you for two weeks before I get there."

"I think that's going to work out fine! You'll stay with us when you get here, of course. Andrea's found something to keep herself busy. Here, I'll let you talk to her."

Andrea enthusiastically listened to her mother's plan and told her about her job. When she hung up, she asked me if her mom had mentioned she was going to look for a job here, too. Somehow, I wasn't surprised to hear that. It seemed like a very good idea.

## Chapter 16

Jonathan came into my room later that night after I had fallen asleep. He was clearly angry with me - I could hear it in his voice just the way he said, "Mom." I sat up and turned on my bedside lamp.

"What's up, Jonathan?" He didn't sit on the edge of my bed. Instead, he closed he door and leaned against it. He even crossed his arms before speaking.

"Why did you tell Andrea Patrick is gay? and what else did you tell her?"

"Jonathan," I began, "we were on the beach, and we saw a gay couple. She reacted so negatively that I felt I had to say something."

"What else did you tell her?" His voice was flat. I had been right to worry earlier. Once again, I crossed the line...

"Nothing, Jonathan," I answered. "Nothing at all."

"You didn't tell her about Marshall? You didn't tell her about me?"

"NO! I said nothing else. But Jonathan, you are going to have to tell her sooner or later."

"Mother, you need to stay out of this." He never called me 'Mother.' I was silent as he continued, "Don't worry about it – I'll tell her and anyone else when I decide to." With that, he turned around and left the room. He closed the door quietly, but I felt as if he had slammed it in my face.

I was feeling much the same as I had when Jonathan was thirteen, fourteen, even fifteen years old. His moods would become negative so quickly, and I never learned how to diffuse them very well. We'd gotten by those times, but now I found myself with the same feeling, not knowing how to stop his anger but wanting to desperately. I fell asleep wondering if his negative moods back then had been outside the norm for all teenagers. Perhaps he got like that because he didn't know how to handle being gay?

In the morning, he greeted me but it was clear to me that he was still not happy with me. Andrea seemed oblivious to the tension between us, probably because of the excitement and nervousness she felt beginning a new job. Jonathan left for school, and I suggested she make a sandwich or take some yogurt for lunch before the two of us went to work.

Because I went in earlier than she needed to be at the salon, Andrea had some time to kill before going to work. She entertained herself on Jennifer's computer by looking up information on taking her SAT until Jennifer came in. She and Jennifer hit it off well, and at 9:30, she walked to the salon. The rest of my day went by very quickly. Andrea came back to my office after five, and we went home together. She had lots of stories about all the customers, and she had definitely enjoyed being with people all day long.

Particularly because of Jonathan's recent distance, I realized having Andrea around the house felt like a special treat for me. Again, I realized it was nice to have another female around, and because of that, Jonathan's coolness towards me didn't hurt as badly. The two of them were getting along fine, at least in my presence.

The rest of the week followed the same routine. Jonathan kept his word and took Andrea to meet old friends on Wednesday night. When they came home that night, Jonathan said good night and went right up to his room, but Andrea stayed downstairs and began talking to me about the evening. She told me she felt much shyer around the girls than she had expected. It occurred to her that Jonathan had been her very best friend until she moved away, and she really hadn't known a lot of the girls very well.

"Do you think that's weird, Mrs. J.? Having a boy as my best friend all the way until I was thirteen?"

She seemed surprised when I said, "Probably it's a little unusual, Andrea."

"It always seemed so normal for me," she was quick to say. "And with moving so much in the past few years, I never had a chance to get really close to anyone else. Sure, I've had a few boyfriends, but most of them I chose because I knew it would annoy Joan. Why do you think it's unusual?"

"Well, I'm just thinking about Gabby when she was that age, and about myself, too. Neither of us had boys for friends after second grade or so. Actually, I don't think I had any 'boy' friends until I started dating! Gabby seems to have plenty since going to college, though." And without saying it aloud, I thought, 'And some of them are gay.' Not wanting to go down that road again, I quickly began asking her about who she saw, if she planned to see any of them again, anything I could think of to stay on a safe subject. I knew sooner or later, she was going to figure out about Jonathan, but I wanted to steer clear of that topic after the way he reacted to me telling her about Patrick. However, what she said next took me totally by surprise.

"Some of the girls tonight hinted that they had thought I was....well, you know, a lesbian."

Now I really didn't know what to say. Did that mean Jonathan's friends knew? I guessed they did. Had he told them, or had they figured it out? Although in some ways, it felt easier to talk to Andrea because she was NOT my own child, I found myself going completely mute after what she had just told me, the same way I had with Jonathan. Was it possible? Could Andrea be gay? As these questions ran through my mind, she continued talking.

"That really surprised me, Mrs. J. I mean, is that something you had thought about me? I've never even thought that way about myself, not even a little bit, like some girls do. I really can't imagine what made the girls think that about me? I never saw myself as the dikey type. But I really haven't dated many guys, either. Maybe that's why."

I finally found my tongue, and much to own surprise, I responded, "Andrea, while I'm not really sure there is such a thing as the "dikey" type, to answer your question, no, I have never thought of you like that or as a heterosexual, either, but you know it really wouldn't matter to me one way or the other." I stopped there, mainly trying to avoid saying too much, and I stifled a fake yawn before she had a chance to say another word.

"I'm pretty tired. I think I better get to bed now." She took the obvious hint and said goodnight, but I was sure this was not the end of the conversation. Andrea had always been a smart young lady, and she was going to figure this out soon. That night, after I prayed, I found myself badly wondering how I could talk this over with Jonathan, but I knew that wasn't an option. I fell asleep thinking that perhaps I should call Patrick, or ask Marshall for some help. But the next day, some help with the matter fell right in my lap from a most unlikely place.

## Chapter 17

The next morning, I managed to get to Andrea off to work without the subject coming up. I was pretty busy at work and had several showings scheduled for the rest of the morning. I stopped back at the office around one just to check in before grabbing lunch, and I was surprised to bump into Lily as I walked in.

"Lily! What are you doing here? You're not selling your house, are you?"

She giggled and said, "Mara, I would only let you do that for me, but no, I'm not here as a client. I was hoping to talk you into having lunch with me. Are you ready to let me truly apologize? Have you eaten already? I've been anxious to try this new restaurant..."

"Our Place?" I asked.

Lily nodded.

"Just give me a moment to check my messages...it's a great restaurant, and I'm starving!"

On the short walk from my office to the restaurant, I could see that Lily had begun to transform herself on the outside as she worked hard on the inside. There was something more natural in the way her hair was styled. Instead of the spikes and gel, there was a soft wave as it framed her face. Her perpetual tan, which I now realized was her natural skin color, was a bit darker than usual, and very becoming. Overall, she seemed more comfortable in her own skin. I can't really explain why, but it was a good feeling to be around. This was the first time I had been alone with her and I was surprised at the positivity she exuded. When we arrived at the restaurant, the same stunning young woman greeted us, this time dressed in a blue and gold flowing dress with matching head tie. The blue dye in her clothes was the exact color of the blue in some of the table paintings, and the fabric's design seemed similar, also. I was sure that was no coincidence...had the same person created the fabric and painted the tables? I wanted to ask her about it, but Lily was talking to me a mile a minute. It seemed that she had decided to join a support group for friends of gays and lesbians after getting to know Marshall, Bob, and Patrick, and she had brochures on all sorts of topics that answered common questions. She said she felt she had to find a way to make up for what she had done to Jonathan, and had no idea where to turn. She had seen a bumper sticker with the support group's name on it, and had found we had a local chapter right in town.

"Mara, won't you come to a meeting with me? These people were so genuinely kind to me! I told them about Danny's father, and I told them what I had done to your son." Her eyes welled up when she said that, and I truly believed she was sorry. I knew she would never do something like that again. "I also thought the group might help me out when Danny talks to me about his dad's lifestyle...it's bound to come up soon, don't you think?"

This was nothing I would have expected from Lily, and my view of her, just as it had the evening of my dinner party, expanded yet again. There was a genuine, caring person underneath her superficial, beautiful exterior. She was doing something to help change herself, and I liked her more each time I saw her. I wasn't sure joining a support group or going to meetings was right for me, but I knew I needed some help. I reached over and accepted the brochures, and assured her I would give it some real consideration. Part of me wanted, actually, needed, to talk about the situation I was having with Jonathan and Andrea, but Lily didn't seem to be the right person. I would read the information she gave me, and then perhaps I would call Patrick, or maybe it was time to call my sister. She was always full of advice.

"Lily, this is really great!" I spoke with great enthusiasm as I took the brochures. "I am so impressed that you went to a meeting! I'm aware of the group, but you know, I'm just not as outgoing as you are..." I trailed off as the waiter arrived with our menus and explained the lunch specials, and that's where that conversation ended. We spent a few moments talking about the choices for lunch, and after we placed our orders, Lily brought up the topic of her race. As she looked around the room, she told me that she rarely managed to go to places that were as mixed as the clientele at Our Place. She said there was a big hole in her life brought on by her past desire to simply ignore her race – something she'd only begun doing since she had married a white man. She had tried to convince herself that race didn't matter, and in the process, she had begun denying her own. She had a strong desire to go visit her paternal grandmother in Mississippi, and was planning to find a way for Daniel to understand that part of his heritage, something she simply hadn't addressed with him yet. She felt ready now.

"I am embarrassed and ashamed of so many of my past actions, Mara. And please believe me, these things are my past! The more I think about my life, the more I want to change it."

"Do you ever go to church?" I asked her. It was a simple question, and I looked directly at her when I asked it.

Looking clearly surprised, Lily answered, "Wow! I thought you would be so against church because of Jonathan..." her voice trailed off but I could see a question lingering.

I told her about Marshall's comments about his church, and together we decided to find out about it. She said she didn't really know how she felt about going...it was something she would need to think about. She told me it was another part of her life she was not proud about, falling away from church. It had been an important part of her upbringing, and she hadn't gone since she married. Her parents had stopped asking her about it, but when she said that, her eyes became sad.

"I haven't really been a good daughter for a long time. I know I have disappointed them, and they're not getting any younger, either. I'm hoping this summer, I can go see them and my grandmother, before it's too late..." Her voice trailed off as she thought about seeing them, and it was clearly a hole in her life. As I changed the subject back to our food, I realized this Lily was nothing like the one I had known to act so superficially...

This spur of the moment invitation to lunch was a success: the food was as delicious as it had been at dinnertime with Jonathan and Andrea, the atmosphere pleasing, and Lily was turning out to be very good company. Before we left the restaurant, she came back to the subject of how she had treated Jonathan. At first I tried to avoid it, but she looked at me with such sincerity, and said she needed to properly apologize and this lunch was her attempt to let me know how very sorry she was. She went on to say she didn't know how to begin to address it with Jonathan, but I was quick to tell her he seemed to hold no grudge and that I thought I might be able to help them eventually feel comfortable with each other. I could barely believe I said those words, but I truly felt okay being with Lily at this point, and I thought Jonathan would understand.

As we walked outside, I realized Our Place was quickly becoming my favorite restaurant, and I was looking forward to celebrating Jonathan's graduation there. I hadn't seen R.J. this time, and I had no idea what had happened, if anything, between Jonathan and him. Of course, just as any parent would feel, I was very curious, but I wouldn't ask Jonathan. I was learning!

## Chapter 18

I didn't open the brochures Lily gave me for a while. Instead, I decided to go to the library to see if I could find some books for parents of gays, even though my Internet search from home had yielded nothing. Not really knowing where to start looking, since there was no "parenting gays" section in the database, I typed in homosexuality. I quickly learned the categories for this subject were either fiction or nonfiction. The nonfiction titles definitely didn't sound attractive; some had to do with re-programming or reparative therapy and seemed to take the stance that being homosexual was against God. I was strong in my belief that God created us in his own image, and I took that to mean regardless of our race, gender, orientation, whatever, we were made in the image of God. I didn't think for one moment that God didn't love Jonathan or that Jonathan needed re-programming. I didn't believe that same-sex unions were against God, or that they threatened heterosexual marriage. Those books definitely were not what I was looking for. Other nonfiction books actually discussed homosexuality as a mental illness, although they were older publications. There were also some titles that clearly offered support to those who wanted to live their lives openly as homosexuals without feeling it was wrong, and although I was happy to see that kind of support, it wasn't what I was looking for. After finding nothing in the nonfiction titles that I thought would help my quest to be a better parent to Jonathan, I began to search for novels that might help me understand how it was for other parents with gay or lesbian children. That was what I wanted to read.

That first trip to the library, I came home with two books. I actually hid them from Jonathan's view because I didn't want him to see what I was trying to do. How funny, as I look back, that I put myself "in the closet" as I sought to understand my son! The titles wouldn't necessarily have given Jonathan a clue about what I was reading, but I hid them anyway. I also didn't tell Patrick about my library quest.

I realize, in hindsight, that I would have gotten far more answers from Lily's literature and support group than I did from the books I read that summer. After the fourteenth novel, I realized none of them were written from a parental point of view. I learned a great deal about the lengths many young men and women took to hide their sexual orientation, which made me sad. It helped me, though, understand why Jonathan hadn't had that conversation with me sooner. Over and over, I read stories about sons and daughters whose parents denied their sexuality or disowned their children for, in my opinion, was living out their lives as God had created them. It broke my heart to read these stories. I read several novels about closeted professional athletes as well as other professionals, and I developed a better understanding of their torment. I learned, without wanting to, about first sexual encounters and sometimes the brutal repercussions when they were discovered. That made me wonder about Marshall's uncle. He told me he would tell me that story someday, but I wasn't sure I wanted to hear it. E. Lynn Harris was, in my opinion, the best writer. I became rather addicted to the genre, if it could be called that, but not once did I learn how other parents had learned to be better parents. If anything, I learned the most about negative actions by parents that had happened to the characters in these books because of their sexual orientation. As I read, I wondered if the books were simply fiction or if the authors had first or second hand knowledge. I thought it was the latter, because writers, the best ones, write about things they know about, through their own experiences or from research. Although my compassion grew, the main thing I gained from reading these books was a collection of things parents should and should not do. I felt comforted that I hadn't reacted negatively to Jonathan's coming out to me, and hoped he knew I was supportive, even though we had yet to have much in the way of conversations that made that as clear as I would have liked.

My book quest didn't provide me with any direct help as a parent, but it did provide me with more than a little understanding of society's judgment and lack of acceptance. It made me more determined to improve my skills as the parent of a young gay man. I continued to read many books that carried a sort of "gay" theme, but I realized the answer to how to communicate better with Jonathan was not going to be found in a book.

I was lucky I had the support of Patrick in my life, and I finally decided to call my sister. It was not easy finding a quiet time with Andrea at the house, so I finally went for a walk and called her from my cell phone.

"Pam?" I knew she had answered the phone but I made sure.

"Hi, Mara! You don't usually call from your cell. What's up?"

The truth was, I didn't call very often at all. But for some reason, I wanted to tell my sister about my son. It was not a very satisfying conversation.

"Pam, Jonathan's just told me he was gay."

Her response really irritated me. "You were surprised by this?"

"Well, no, not really." That was true.

"Then what's the big deal, Mara?"

"It's not a big deal, but I just wanted to tell you."

"You haven't told me anything I didn't already know."

And that was it. The rest of the conversation was about his graduation, and my niece's latest accident while playing soccer. When we hung up, we made plans to get together soon, something we did every time we spoke on the phone, but something that never seemed to happen very often. Her reaction had been such a non-reaction! My mood began to lighten as I walked back home, thinking about how nice it would be if the rest of the world simply didn't care, either.

## Chapter 19

Andrea's mother arrived late Saturday night. It was a tearful reunion. She would stay with us for the week, and Jonathan and Andrea helped her bring her suitcase and other belongings into the guest room. It had been a long drive, and she looked exhausted, so I suggested that we could talk in the morning after she was rested. Andrea really wanted to stay up and talk, but she realized her mother had to get some sleep first. Ginny, who was my age, had changed a great deal in the past five years. She was very thin, her hair was starting to go gray, and there was something about her that made me think her exhaustion was more than a result of the drive here. I thought she looked like she had been tired for a long time.

Sunday morning I felt the need to go to church, but not my usual one. The remarks made last time I went had really offended me, especially after I had read in my library books about what if felt like to be put down in the name of Christianity for one's sexual orientation. I had not yet had an opportunity to ask Marshall where he and Bob went to church, but maybe I would ask them this afternoon when I had dinner at their condo. Perhaps next Sunday I would go to their church.

No one was awake when I got out of bed, and instead of going to church, I decided to go to the beach for a walk. It was quiet and peaceful there, and I thought just the meditation time would do me good, but as I walked along, I came across a church service held on the beach when weather permitted.

To me, this was a little gift from God, coming to this service unexpectedly. Although I had heard about it, I had never attended and I really didn't know what church sponsored it. There were rows of folding chairs facing the water, and I quietly sat down in an empty one near the back. The older couple sitting in front of me turned and greeted me warmly. Singing familiar songs a cappella, with the waves of the ocean crashing to shore that close, even with total strangers, was an amazingly spiritual experience. The sermon was given by a woman about my age, who may or may not have been the pastor; she didn't introduce herself and was dressed very casually. She had a quiet style of preaching, and her lesson was about the prodigal son, but it focused on the son who had stayed home. It gave me a lot to think about. During the final hymn, I slipped away, feeling no desire to participate in any post-service conversation that was sure to follow. I felt very uplifted as I walked back up the beach, and the feeling continued when I returned home.

Ginny and Andrea were talking at the kitchen table, and I decided to work in the yard for a while to give them some alone time. Jonathan came outside when he got up.

"'Mornin'," he said as he walked across the back yard to the corner where I was weeding and redistributing mulch. I was happy to see he had moved on from his anger towards me a week ago.

"Good morning!" I responded. "Trying to give the two of them some space?"

He nodded, and sat down on the grass near me. "Are you really going to Marshall's this afternoon?" he asked. I had mentioned it to him earlier in the week, but I hadn't told him their idea of trading residents yet. Now seemed as good a time as any, so I said, "You might be surprised about why they asked me, Jonathan. They fell in love with this house when they came to dinner, and they are trying to get me to fall in love with their condo."

"Really? Why?"

"After you leave for college in the fall, what do I need this house for? They seem to think the perfect solution is for me to buy their condo, and they'll buy this house."

"I'm beginning to see these two aren't really just clients, are they? Marshall did seem like a very interesting guy." Jonathan seemed sincere as he said that, and I was pleased. It would be wonderful if one day, I could invite Bob and Marshall over to have a dinner with Jonathan, even though I realized now that I had tried to make that happen way too soon.

"Andrea thought I was dating him!" I laughed as I told him that, and he just smiled. Then he told me he was going to a the beach with Janey and Megan that afternoon, and soon after, Ginny and Andrea came out to the yard, too. It wasn't long before Andrea and Jonathan went back inside, leaving Ginny and me alone for the first time since she arrived.

"I was very surprised to hear Andrea had found a job so quickly," Ginny began.

"Me, too!" I agreed.

"She clearly has thought about coming back here for awhile, has she?" I nodded, as I continued gardening, and she sat down on the grass nearby. She talked to me for quite a long while, with very little encouragement on my part. She told me how life had changed after Andrea's father found a younger woman and left her and Andrea. She spoke with no bitterness, but with resignation, although she told me she had become a very angry woman when it first happened. She had dropped out of college to get married, and although she had planned to finish, she hadn't gone back. She found herself in need of a job and she and Andrea had to learn to manage with much less. That had been hard on Andrea especially, and when her father's new wife treated her meanly, Andrea began to change. Ginny and Andrea had moved into an apartment, and Ginny struggled to pay the rent and buy groceries. Andrea knew her father and Joan lived in a nice house and wore nice clothes, and yet when she asked her dad for anything, it turned into a war with Joan. She was so miserable, and she began fighting with everyone – Ginny, her classmates, and her teachers. Her grades suffered and finally, after her sophomore year of high school, her father came up with the idea that if she moved to Florida with him and Joan, everything would get better. Ginny was very opposed to the idea, but he somehow convinced Andrea to come. The day she left, Andrea and Ginny argued horribly as Ginny pleaded with her to stay.

"It was so hard to see her get on that plane," Ginny said. "I felt like my life was coming apart at the seams. I had already lost my marriage, and now I was losing my daughter. I had no faith that it would work out for her in Florida."

And it hadn't worked out, but Ginny barely heard from her. Just a short phone call now and then from Andrea, who really never told her how bad things were, and twice, her father called to suggest Andrea come back to Ginny, but each time that had happened, the plans never materialized. Now, she just felt sad that through it all, it was really Andrea who had suffered the most. When she called to tell Andrea's father where she was, he hadn't acted worried or surprised. If anything, he had sounded relieved that it was no longer his problem. She said she wasn't planning to tell Andrea about that conversation, but Andrea didn't seem at all concerned about her father, either.

The idea that Andrea already had a job and wanted to move back here was very encouraging, and Ginny was already thinking she should try to find a job here, too. I told her I would be happy to help her any way I could. I did not tell her how bad Andrea looked when she arrived. I thought she might be able to hear that a little later on if things became more stable between mother and daughter.

Later on that afternoon, Andrea and Ginny had the house to themselves. I felt a little awkward leaving my guests, but they insisted they needed some time together. As I drove to Bob and Marshall's, I thought about what it must have been like, not to see your daughter for two years. Andrea had already told me they had been on bad terms, and the time alone together might help them mend things. I hoped so.

The condominium was in a wonderful neighborhood downtown. It turned out to be more than I ever had expected it to be. I had sold one of the condos in this area about eighteen months ago, and therefore knew the area and basic floor plan. But the one I had sold didn't have any of the upgrades theirs had. Also, their taste in decorating was very similar to mine, I realized as I toured each room. No wonder my house was so appealing to them. Even their dining room set was very similar to my grandmother's.

It had been an understatement to say they enjoyed container gardening. Their patio was like a tropical paradise, it was so full of lush green plants and flowers. Each one was planted in a container that seemed to have been chosen specifically for that plant, and the eclectic look of the different containers added even more interest to the showy displays. It was clear that I was reacting just as they had hoped.

"So, what do you think of it?" Bob's eyes were shining with anticipation as we sat down to dinner. Before I could answer his question, I looked at the food they had prepared. It looked like something out of a gourmet food magazine.

"Who prepared this amazing-looking meal?" I asked incredulously. I looked at a platter of pan fried haddock, a bowl of risotto, and another of mixed fresh vegetables. The aroma was tantalizing and presentation just perfect.

"Ah, the truly important part is how it tastes, not how it looks, Mara," Marshall said. "But we cooked it together. Bob is the real chef, and I am the sous chef."

I was more than a little surprised when he asked if we could say a brief grace before beginning, and again my curiosity was piqued about his spiritual side. We actually joined hands and gave thanks for the meal. It was a warm beginning to what turned out to be a wonderful evening with these two men who were quickly becoming very special to me.

By Wednesday night of that week, some major plans had been developed by Ginny and Andrea. They had begun looking at apartments, and Ginny had had several job interviews. Andrea had set up an appointment for Ginny with Karen, at the beauty salon, and the results were amazing. Just as quickly as Andrea had been transformed from a dreadlocked teen, Ginny now looked much more like she had five years earlier. The gray was gone, and the new haircut brought out her fine features. Along with the improved hair, she seemed so much happier, now that Andrea was back in her life.

Late that night, they were upstairs talking to each other in Gabby's room, which I now thought of as Andrea's room. Although I was downstairs, I overheard Andrea tell her mother she had seen Jonathan with R.J. at the beach. I couldn't hear every word she said, but clearly she was shocked to see him with the "gay waiter," as she described him to her mother, but Ginny clearly was not the least bit surprised.

"Why are you reacting this way?" I heard her ask. "Surely that's crossed your mind – about Jonathan?"

"No, Mom, it never has." There was silence. "He would have told me – we are best friends." More silence, followed by Ginny saying,

"Andrea, we left when you and Jonathan were thirteen years old. He probably didn't realize that about himself back then. Maybe he did, I don't know. You two kept in touch for a while, but you know that's not the same as being in person."

In response, after a pause, I heard Andrea say, "Maybe that's why some of his friends here thought I was a lesbian?" I could imagine a look of comprehension on her face as she said this. I also was aware that a burden had been lifted from both Jonathan and me. There were no more worries about whether Andrea knew, and Jonathan had not told her.

"His friends...They actually asked you that?" It was Ginny's turn to sound incredulous now. At that point, I realized I'd overheard more than I should and was beginning to feel like an eavesdropper. I changed my mind about going upstairs and turned around and headed into the family room. There, I turned on the TV, and began flipping through the channels. Before I settled on a something to watch, the phone rang, and there was Patrick, calling once again just when I needed him.

Patrick and I spent over an hour on the phone that evening. He was such a huge help to me; he really understood the way Jonathan was feeling and although it wasn't easy for me, I was finally realizing that I needed to stay out certain parts of his life right now. Patrick told me I simply had to disengage whenever the topic of sexual preference came up with anyone Jonathan had a relationship with. It was his job, not mine, to pave that road, and I had to let him do it. Patrick made a simple analogy to learning to tie shoes. If someone else always did it for you, you'd never know how to do it. Likewise, if someone always laid the foundation for disclosing a person's sexual preference, that person would never truly learn what was possible. Patrick also believed that it wasn't always necessary to discuss the topic at all to have healthy relationships. Not every grandparent, aunt and cousin needed to know. That gave a great deal to think about.

By the time we hung up, I felt much better. I felt I had some strategies to use when I was faced with the next awkward situation arose. We also made plans for Patrick to join us for Jonathan's graduation, if Jonathan was open to that idea. I shared with Patrick the exchange I had witnessed with R.J., and the subsequent conversation about that I had overheard earlier that night between Ginny and Andrea. Patrick reiterated that I did not need to know any more about R.J., unless Jonathan decided to tell me. He said he was going to email Jonathan and ask if he could come to the graduation, so I didn't have to get involved with that, either. That was so Patrick!

## Chapter 20

Before I knew it, graduation was here. On Friday, Jonathan took his last final and was out of school by noon, which was when we left to get Gabby. It was a lot of driving, all the way to Toronto, but we'd made the plan over Christmas break, long before Jonathan had told me, and long before Andrea had arrived. Jonathan and I took turns driving there, stopping only to get gas, take restroom breaks, and get a quick bite to eat. I managed not to overstep during any conversation the entire way, which felt like a real accomplishment. I gave a lot of thought to what I would talk about, and managed to keep the conversation on topics that didn't annoy him. That was a success! Of course, it wasn't easy, and inwardly I wondered if eventually, my son and I would be able to converse as naturally as we used to.

When we got to Toronto, the three of us had a little time to visit before I went to bed. Our family time together felt just as warm as it always had. Gabby gave me her bedroom of her tiny apartment, and she slept on the couch in the living room, while her brother slept on the floor. I'm sure they spent most of the night catching up. In the morning, we took our time with a nice big breakfast at a pancake and crepe restaurant before heading out. The time in the car on the way back gave us a chance to explain to Gabby what was going on with Andrea and Ginny. Jonathan had already told her the Lily story, and I suspected she'd heard about Marshall and Bob, too, but those topics didn't come up in the car. She remembered Ginny and Andrea, of course, but mostly she remembered how sad Jonathan had become when Andrea moved away. We filled her in on all their moves, the divorce, the struggles, and their plans for moving back permanently. Andrea and her mom were also driving on this Saturday, back to Ohio to close up Ginny's apartment and then permanently moving back to Rhode Island. Ginny had landed a job at the university; it wasn't the best salary but if Andrea decided to go to college there, it would be tuition free. Ginny had never expected to be able to help Andrea with college, so that idea really appealed to her. She was also excited about the possibility that she could finish college, too. I could see the two of them were forging a better relationship after so much heartache. Jonathan told her how unbelievable it was to have Andrea back after so long, and what a mess she had been.

"Would you believe she was all Goth looking? Dreadlocks and black nails! I think she has finally ditched the cigarettes."

Gabby wasn't as horrified as we had been, but she hadn't seen Andrea, either.

"Sounds like she's been through too much!" was all she said. The conversation dwindled for a while, and then we talked about Jonathan's graduation dinner at Our Place.

With three of us sharing the drive, it went by quickly and we were back home by dinnertime. We ordered pizza from Gabby's favorite place, and that evening felt just like it had before Gabby had gone off to college. For some reason, I was reticent about telling her the tentative plans for trading residences with Bob and Marshall. I wondered if Jonathan would tell her before I did.

The graduation ceremony started at five in the evening, and we had made reservations for Our Place afterwards. From the conversation I had overheard between Ginny and Andrea, I knew Jonathan had seen R.J. at least once after our dinner here, and I wondered if R.J. would be working tonight. I had not said one word about it to Gabby because of Patrick's advice. Of course I wanted to talk to her about it, but I knew Patrick was right.

Often graduation ceremonies are not well liked because of the numerous speeches and awards, but I thought Jonathan's graduation was wonderful. The speeches were touching, and the music provided by members of the graduating class was actually very good. We were surprised and proud to learn Jonathan had been selected to win a scholarship based on academic and athletic performance for someone attending state university. We took some family pictures and some with his friends, Janey and Megan and a few others. Although it was a celebration and a time of reflection of the past, it was also a time to become excited about the future. We were looking forward to our celebratory dinner as we drove to restaurant. Enthusiastically, I told Gabby how great it was, and I tried to describe the décor to her.

I was rather surprised when we walked in the door, Jonathan was greeted by not only the hostess but two of the wait staff with such familiarity that it was clear he had come here more than once with Andrea and me. In fact, when Keyonna, whom he greeted by name, was seating us, she said, "Enjoy your meal, Jonathan! It's the last time you'll be the one waited on." She glanced at me and realized I had no idea what she meant.

"So he hasn't told you we've begged him to come work for us this summer?"

I shook my head as I sat down. Gabby had a smirk on her face, so I knew she was aware, and Jonathan smiled broadly as he told me how he landed this summer job.

"After you brought Andrea and me here last month, I made up my mind this would be a great summer job for me. R.J. – you remember our waiter? -told me they would be hiring a few extra wait staff for the summer, and I applied." This came as a surprise to me – throughout high school, Jonathan had been so active with cross country and track that he never had time for a job during the school year. He did chores around the house and I gave him enough of an allowance to make it manageable for him. In the summers, he had worked at the sports camps at the high school, and I hadn't really thought this summer would be any different. Of course, now that he was finished with high school, this probably would have been the last year he would have that job. I was proud he had taken the initiative to find this summer job, but surprised he hadn't mentioned it to me. I also wondered how much of his decision to work here had to do with interest in R.J., but I knew enough not to ask that question. I wondered if that was all R.J. had told him during the exchange I had witnessed, and I had jumped to the wrong conclusion. As I thought these things and said nothing, he chided me, "Mom, are you speechless? It's just a summer job!"

"Oh Jonathan, I'm thrilled for you! What a new experience it will be! Do you think you'll bring some of the food home now and then?"

Gabby jumped on that, saying, "I'm expecting something amazing here, since Mom's reaction is more about the food than your job!"

"It really is great," Jonathan answered, "but being part of the wait staff here is about so much more than taking orders. Keyonna and her husband, Dage, are fanatics about teaching service." Before he could expound on that, our waiter, Josh, who had waited on Lily and me for lunch, came to the table.

He turned on the charm from the minute we looked up. "Very nice to have you here again," he said to me. Then he turned to Jonathan. "Enjoy your last time on that side of the table!" and winked at him. Finally, he looked at Gabby and said, "Jonathan never mentioned his sister was as beautiful as his mother!" It was easy to see Jonathan and Gabby were siblings; they had the same hair color, complexion and shared the same eyes. Gabby's nose and mouth were more like mine than Jonathan, who favored Dick in those features. She had long dark hair, and I thought she was lovely, just like her brother.

Gabby's reaction was smooth – nothing like mine. I blushed and stuttered, but she simply said, "We're one beautiful family, aren't we?" It was Josh's turn to squirm when she said that. I noticed he kept his eyes away from Jonathan as he took our orders, and I couldn't help but wonder if it was because he found Jonathan beautiful, too. I also could hear Andrea's comment about 'gay waiter' in my mind. Did that apply to Josh? Would customers think that when my son waited on them? What difference did it make, and why was I thinking about it anyway? I quickly dismissed that thought and concentrated on listening to tonight's dinner specials at Our Place, trying to envision Jonathan reciting them.

That was the start of our wonderful evening to celebrate the Jonathan's high school graduation. It was a perfect way to close one door and open the next...

## Chapter 21

Gabby stayed home for a week before we put her on a plane back to Toronto. Her time home passed much too quickly, but she packed a lot into the week. Besides spending some time with me, she visited a few friends from high school, did a little shopping, and was so kind to Andrea and Ginny. She even helped them with the move into their new apartment on Tuesday. She and Jonathan worked very hard that day, and after work, I took all four of them out to dinner, but not at Our Place this time. Since Jonathan was starting work there the very next day, we decided we should choose another restaurant. While we were having dinner, Jonathan critiqued the service and told us that R.J. had told him all the right things to say to get a job at Our Place. The way he mentioned R.J. so casually made me want to ask more, but I heeded Patrick's advice and didn't. He and Andrea seemed to be on good terms and with Gabby's help, they did some reminiscing about when they were younger.

"Remember the time," Gabby got them started, "you two found the stray kitten?" They had hidden it from both families for a few days until Ginny couldn't find the tuna she knew was in her cupboard. Each of them took turns with a memory. Andrea reminded them of the time she and Jonathan had spied on Gabby and her boyfriend, and they had gotten so bored that they fell asleep behind the couch. Jonathan recalled walking to the store with Andrea to buy some candy. While they were in the store, they had seen another kid steal some gum. The kid had made it look so easy, they talked about trying it, too. Then, they thought better of it and decided to tell the clerk what they saw. Neither of them could remember what happened exactly, but they both recalled that they were thrown out of the store without getting anything at all.

It was fun sitting as two families and reminiscing about years gone by. Our situations were both much different from when we had met so many years ago, but I think both Ginny and I loved seeing our children like this.

After dinner, Andrea and Ginny went to spend the night in their new home, and Gabby finally got to sleep in her own room, having refused to take it back from Andrea since she knew they were moving.

Wednesday night, after I had worked all day and came home to a delicious home-cooked dinner prepared by Gabby, she and I decided to go for a walk on the beach. Jonathan was working at Our Place for the very first time. I hoped it would turn out to be a good summer job for him. He said tonight, he would help bus tables and observe the other waiters, followed by an interview with Dage and Keyonna to find out what to expect the next shift.

It was more difficult to find a parking place near the beach now that school was out, but the time between dinner and dusk wasn't as bad as midday, when families were there, or after dark, when it was often crowded with the high school and college students. As we walked, both of us took off our sandals to walk barefoot. I passed the same two young men holding hands as the last time I had walked with Andrea. I gave them a little nod of recognition, and one of them waved back to me.

"Do you know them?" Gabby asked me.

"No, but I've seen them here recently," I explained.

"You're going to do all right with this, aren't you, Mom?" I

I knew she meant 'this' as Jonathan's coming out, and I nodded. I was having a few bumps, but I thought I was doing all right. I nodded, and said, "But I'm having some trouble figuring out what's okay to say to Jonathan, and what's not..."

It was her turn to nod. "I know. He's having a hard time knowing what he wants to tell you. I had the same feelings when I was his age. We're a close family, but some things just aren't right to discuss with mothers."

I knew she was right, and as I thought about it, there had been plenty of similar problems with her. That was comforting to me to recall. "I was also very worried about Andrea finding out..."

"I don't think you're supposed to worry about that," she said, and I didn't get the feeling Jonathan had told her how angry he had been with me. "It's likely she'll figure it out on her own, or he'll find a way to tell her. Let it go." She spoke gently, and she changed the subject. "Tell me about these new clients/friends of yours. Jonathan mentioned someone named Marshall."

I told her about meeting them, gave her a brief summary of the dinner party, and then I mentioned about the possibility of trading residences with them. She surprised me with her reaction.

"Really? You might sell the house?" She was clearly less than enthusiastic than Jonathan had been.

"Would you really be upset?" We stopped walking and plopped down on the soft sand. It was not hot or cool, just a bit warm from the day's sun, as evening approached, and there was something luxurious about feeling it with both my hands and feet as she considered my situation. I had known that selling the house might be hard for Gabby.

"Thinking only of myself, it would be so weird not to come home to the house I grew up in," she began. She paused, thinking about it and looking out at the waves. "But thinking about you, it might be a great move. Our house is so filled with memories; some are happy times before Daddy died, and sad times as we got used to life without him. We've had good times since then, too, but I bet it would be a good way for you to build a life for yourself with Jonathan going to college."

Again, I nodded. I had thought about it a lot, and the truth was, I was ready for a life. I finally could think of that possibility. I loved their condominium and their idea was very appealing to me. I had looked at some other places, but the idea of trading houses and staying in each other's lives was very important to me.

We talked a little longer before heading back to the car. I could tell Gabby was warming up to the idea because she asked me to drive by their condo, which I did. She became more enthused as she saw the neighborhood and the outside of the building.

"We can ring the doorbell and see if they're home," I suggested.

Gabby looked shocked at the idea. "Do you really know them well enough to appear at their doorstep with your daughter unexpectedly?"

"Actually, yes, I do! They have come to our house several times impromptu."

So we parked the car and walked up the steps to ring the bell, just as Bob opened the door.

"Mara!! How great to see you!" He gave me a little hug. Then he looked at Gabby and said, "Hi, Gabby! Have you come to check out your mom's new home?" He said that with a hopeful gleam in his eye as he winked at me and continued, "It's so nice to meet you!"

Gabby was speechless for a moment, shook his outstretched hand, and looked at me for some help. I looked at Bob and said, "Actually, I was hoping to show this place to Gabby! Am I coming at a bad time?"

He told us he had been about to run to the store but it could definitely wait. We followed him in as he called out to Marshall, who walked out from the kitchen. He gave me the same warm welcome, and also greeted Gabby by name.

When she finally found her voice, she said, "How did you both know who I was?"

Bob answered as Marshall snickered, "We've seen your picture – make that several pictures - at your mom's house, silly girl! Plus, you realize there is a resemblance, don't you? Now come and let us show you around your mom's new place."

Gabby's reaction was similar to mine. She seemed to fall in love with it, and as we left, nearly an hour later after having some iced tea with them, I gave them the answer they were hoping for. I told them I'd work on figuring out prices for both and a legal, and hopefully economical way to swap homes.

The rest of the time with Gabby was great, but she was ready to go back to Toronto when it was time to take her to the airport. She waited until the week was nearly over before mentioning she had begun dating someone new. His name was Sam, he was a graduate student, too, and she had a twinkle in her eye that told me it could get serious pretty quickly. She was ready to get back to Toronto, and he was picking her up at the airport. I was sad when she left but I was used to it, and I knew as a graduate assistant, she had plenty of work to do in the summer. She said she might bring Sam home with her later in the summer when she came home to drive Jonathan to college with me.

## Chapter 22

After I had that first dinner at Marshall and Bob's, and even more so after Gabby and I had stopped by, my friendship with them began to grow. It helped fill a void that had developed with Jonathan, partially because he was working nights. I wasn't sure if the space between us was a result of his coming out, or if it was inevitable because of his age and he was on his way to college, but I knew we definitely weren't as close as we had been. Having Marshall and Bob in my life helped. Over the summer, we began seeing more of each other fairly often as they began dropping by now and then to talk about the house. We also had a few more lunches, most times with Lily included.

Over the summer, Lily had become more confident in herself, especially over being half-black. I thought she grew more beautiful each time we got together. We'd had several discussions when she heard me use the words 'half-black,' because Lily insisted in this country, one is never considered 'half.' Any part black meant black to the white world. During one of these conversations, Marshall and Bob were there, too. Marshall said he couldn't really offer a personal view on this conversation, since as far as he knew, he was no part white, but he said he found the blacks in America had conflicting views over those who were mixed race. He had observed that some people of color favored lighter skinned blacks, but others treated them like they didn't belong. Certainly literature could be found that supported each point of view. Bob said in his opinion, if everyone just married outside their race, we'd all be mixed and it wouldn't matter. We agreed that we'd probably never find a better solution, at least not during a lunch conversation.

One afternoon, Lily finally asked them about church – something I had wanted to ask but just never found the right moment.

"Marshall," she began, looking right at him, "I was raised as a church-going girl. I went to an all-black church, and I loved it growing up. But when I married and moved here, well, you know I started ignoring my race, and part of that included not going to church."

Marshall was happy to talk about his faith and church. "I was raised going to church, too." He didn't hesitate to add, "Would you like to go some Sunday with us? Our church is mixed, though."

Bob cleared his throat and looked a little uncomfortable. "Lily, I have no idea what you've been through or what made you try to "pass" as a white person, but I want you to know, Marshall isn't talking race when he says our church is mixed."

This is where I finally found my tongue. "Do you go to an all-inclusive church, Bob?"

He nodded, and Marshall continued, "Everyone is accepted at our church, regardless of sexual orientation. It is mixed, race-wise, too, but most of the mixed-race couples happen to be same-sex."

"I have heard of churches like that," Lily said. "I'm not sure that's what I'm looking for," she mumbled, being as honest as I'd ever seen her. "Danny's father goes to church every Sunday, and I just can't imagine running in to him there. I think what I'm looking for is a connection to the kind of church going I had as a child. The same songs, the "a-mens!" She became quiet for a moment as she recalled her Sundays growing up. "Really, what I'm looking for is a piece of my past at church, not my ex-husband."

For some reason, Marshall didn't really respond to that. Instead, he said, "Some churches preach a doctrine of hate toward homosexuality, but our church focuses on the Bible's message of love...Love your neighbor as yourself, love one another, you know..."

Even though I hadn't been much of a part of the conversations, I heard myself exclaim, "I would love to go with you sometime! I had to walk out of my own church when I heard the negativity recently. Tell me, Marshall, how's the music...traditional, contemporary?"

"You name it, we sing it!" Marshall was enthusiastic. "We make Glee Club sound like amateurs! Will you try it with us one Sunday?"

I quickly agreed, and Lily continued to stall, reiterating that it would be too hard to go with the possibility she might run into her ex-husband, and that what she was really missing was her childhood church experience. We didn't push her, and we didn't set a date, but I knew them well enough now that I could invite myself to join them at their church, and planned to do it soon.

I had known them for nearly three months before Bob met Jonathan. Experience and advice from Patrick and Marshall had made me more realistic about trying to force situations with Jonathan. It finally happened over the summer. They had come for a casual Saturday lunch, most of which they brought with them, and Jonathan came home while they were still here. I knew he must have been ready to meet them, because he easily could have avoided coming home until their car was gone, but he didn't do that. Their meeting went far better than I could have hoped. As it turned out, Bob had gone to the same state school Jonathan would be attending in the fall. He asked Jonathan if he could show him some of the coolest places to go by looking at them on the Internet. Although I thought he might not think anything about Bob was cool, Jonathan seemed to like him immediately, and the two of them disappeared for nearly an hour. While they were gone, Marshall asked me for yet another tour of the yard. I obliged, but I was not very focused on the yard, as I discovered I was concerned about what Bob and Jonathan were doing. I immediately chided myself for having such thoughts, although they really weren't defined in my mind, and Marshall seemed to share no such qualms. I guess all the books I had read about the problems faced by those growing up homosexual made my mind wander to the unrealistic and unpleasant possibilities. Marshall continued asking about the plantings in my yard. Next, he gently pushed me to discuss our tentative plans for traded residences. We were getting ready to set a date and meet with a mutual lawyer. We were discussing it when they finally came back outside. Bob asked Jonathan what he thought of the idea. I was surprised at the reaction Jonathan had. I had only mentioned it to him a few times, but we'd had no conversation yet other than his initial acceptance of the idea.

"My mom needs to get out of this house, away from the memories it holds for her of my father." I couldn't conceal my feelings; I was not expecting that from him. I'm sure the hurt showed on my face because immediately, he said, "I'm not saying anything negative about Dad," and he looked at me. Then he continued, "But I don't think you have been able to move on – in your personal life."

"I haven't wanted anyone else," I defended myself. Inwardly, I was so unprepared to hear Jonathan say these things. My eighteen year old son was thinking about my personal life? I hadn't realized he thought that way. I began wondering if I had treated my inability to get over Dick in the same way I had Jonathan being gay? Was this another area I had just refused to address? That seemed apparent as I heard what my son was saying. Marshall, who had been taking it all in, commented, "Mara, I never knew your husband, but I think I have been able to get a sense of him through you. I just don't think he was the kind of man who would want to see you alone forever."

He spoke so softly, so true, that I couldn't control the tears that were forming. I think it was at that moment that I began to realize and mourn other parts of my life I had ignored for the past thirteen years. With my son's and Marshall's words hitting me like a ton of bricks, I understood that I was not going to be able to continue living like this any longer. And as annoying as Bob could be some times, he was the one who introduced me to the man that would force me to move on. I had a hard time pulling myself together that afternoon with the each of them hovering over me like a mother hen, but I eventually did. And that was the beginning of my time to move forward.

## Chapter 23

It was the end of the summer, just before it was time to bring Jonathan to college. As planned, Gabby managed to come home for another quick visit just in time to drive with me before beginning her final year at McGill. She needed the break after working on her research all summer. She had not brought Sam home; he told her the trip to take her brother to college was not the right time for him to meet the family. When she told me that, even though I hadn't met him yet, I could tell I was going to like him.

That evening, I had invited Marshall and Bob for a cookout and a last chance to talk about the house swap with Gabby and Jonathan. It was the first time I had been able to get the four of them together. Ginny and Andrea had promised to come over later that evening to join us for dessert. Lily had gone to visit her grandmother in Mississippi, so she was not part of the gathering.

Over the summer, I had observed Andrea and Jonathan's relationship change. She had become much like his other 'girl' friends, Janey and Megan, and treated him like a brother, telling him about who she was thinking about dating and so on. He seemed to have a little closer relationship to Andrea than the others probably because they had spent so much time together before she had moved away. I knew he must have told her or she had simply accepted it after talking to her mother that night at my house, but I was happy things seemed to be fine between them. He saw her at least once a week. I hadn't seen Ginny as often as I had expected. She was busy with her new job, and had joined a divorce support group to meet others. They had many kinds of activities, and she seemed more than happy with the changes in her life.

Bob and Marshall were looking forward to moving, and they were especially happy to talk about it with Jonathan and Gabby present. Both had seen the condo, and they were absolutely thrilled with it for me. They pointed out that it was much closer to my office, and out of the suburbs which was no place for a single woman. I had not really considered myself a single woman until recently, but I had begun to warm up to the idea of going out a little more when Jonathan was gone; I had even thought about possibility of going on a date or two. It was strange, but as I was moving forward, I found myself talking to Dick less and less frequently, and calling on my living friends instead when I needed to talk about a problem. Lily had talked me into a new hairstyle; it was shorter and had a little more style to it now. I had to admit that something about cutting my hair gave me a little more confidence. It made me feel a bit less "average." I considered asking her to go shopping with me to see if she would help me jazz up my wardrobe (I really was thinking about dating, wasn't I?), but whenever I thought about asking her, I recalled the fashion show she had put on for Jonathan. I was confident she would never do anything like that again, but the lingering memory stopped me from asking her to help me with my own wardrobe.

It was late afternoon, and Jonathan, Gabby and I were sitting on the patio, surrounded by a colorful array of petunias I had in planters and hanging baskets. Actually, Marshall and Bob had brought a most of them to my house over the summer, and I told them I suspected these flowers were really for themselves and not me, since we hoped to move a week after Jonathan left, and the petunias were staying with the house.

Marshall and Bob came around to the back, knowing we would be sitting out there, and I was surprised to see a third person with them. I could tell immediately it was Bob's father – the resemblance was very strong. He looked about ten years older than me, and his hair was salt and pepper rather than highlighted like Bob's, but he had the same beautiful smile. He was a little beefier than Bob, but not actually overweight.

Bob apologized immediately for bringing him without telling me in advance. "The doorbell rang this morning, and there was my dad!" he explained. I knew that was not a common practice; Bob had told me his mother had died over a year ago, and his dad had not come to visit him since. He had also told me his parents had never said much of anything when Bob told them he was gay; they had welcomed his friends in much the same manner as they welcomed his two sisters' boyfriends, but they never actually discussed their thoughts or feelings with him, and were always a little distant when it came to his relationships. Bob supposed that was better than some of his friends' experiences, whose parents had coldly rejected having a gay son or even worse, had denied it, but he would have liked to talk about it more openly, like he was able to with me. That had made me happy, to hear that he felt that way, but Jonathan and I still had a long way to go before we could talk about it as openly as I wished. Bob told me he had gone home to visit his father a few times since his mother's death, over the holidays and again in the spring, but he said his dad had simply poured himself into his work as a lawyer, and never seemed to want to get away, so I assumed Bob was very surprised about his unexpected visit.

I really didn't mind the extra guest, and with genuine sincerity, I said so.

"So you are Mara, who will be trading places with these two? From the outside, it looks like they are getting the better part of the trade!" He gave an approving look at the house, then the yard. Then he stuck out his hand to shake mine, smiled quite charmingly, and said, "Hi, I'm Jim, and I'm sorry to crash your little get-together like this."

For some reason, I felt the need to tell him, "It's not an even trade, you know." His eyebrow actually went up, just like his son's, but he said nothing. After saying that, I introduced Gabby and Jonathan, and began preparing the grill. Marshall immediately came over to help, and Bob told his father Jonathan would soon be off to the same university, it turned out, that both Bob and his father had attended. That began a lively discussion, which Gabby easily joined, and Marshall and I took care of grilling the fish he and Bob had brought, as well cooking my burgers and brats. I had learned that Marshall was every bit as good a cook as Bob, but Bob's more assertive nature had earned him the position of head chef. While we were cooking, Marshall quietly apologized again for bringing Jim without advance notice. He said they were quite surprised when he appeared at the condo that morning, and by the time they remembered they were coming for dinner, it seemed the best thing to do was take him along. The last thing they wanted to do was make him feel he was in the way. He gave me a little hug of appreciation for taking it all in stride, just as they had assured Jim I would.

At my suggestion, we went inside to eat dinner rather than staying outside. I thought it would be a nice way for Bob to show his father the house, and I knew I would have no other opportunity to use the dining room again before the move. Gabby and Jonathan had set the table moments before we sat down, and I was tickled to see that they had even lit candles. Even though it was still daylight, it was a nice touch, and I was feeling pleased about this meal. As we sat down, Jim chose the seat opposite me – the other head of the table, and Bob and Marshall sat on one side, with Jonathan and Gabby across from them. Without asking, Marshall began the grace with us all holding hands. After, when we had let go, Jim looked around the room approvingly, and toasted our dinner, saying the words I was thinking, "May this dining room hold many more pleasant times like this meal, with these same fine people." We all nodded, and I didn't know if Bob and Marshall felt the same as I did, or even if Gabby and Jonathan did, but a very special feeling came over me as we settled down to enjoy the rest of the evening.

The evening was quite different from the first time Bob and Marshall had come to dinner, and before they left, Jim had managed to catch me alone in the kitchen as I was getting ready to bring in the dessert. We could hear Gabby, Marshall, and Bob giving Jonathan all sorts of last minute advice about college life. Every now and then, their voices became much quieter, and I was okay with that, knowing they were talking about things it's better a mother doesn't hear. Jim had followed me into the kitchen, so I began handing him things to bring back into the dining room, but he tactfully set them on the counter and said, "I think we should take our time in here. They want to talk to Jonathan without us, can't you tell?"

"Yes, I had just realized they were probably telling him some things I don't need to hear," I answered. "Let me put the coffee on, and we'll sit at the kitchen table while we wait for it."

When we were settled at the table, Jim looked at me and became very serious.

"Mara," Jim began, "I haven't told Bob this yet, but I have been considering moving here."

I was very surprised to hear that, but something inside me was piqued at the same time. "Really? I didn't think you'd visited here very often..."

"I haven't. Susie and I rarely visited – you know my wife died?" When I nodded, he continued, "It's a long story....but now I've waited a year since she's been gone, and I think I'm ready for a change."

"Did you know I am a widow?" It was his turn to nod his head, yes, so I continued, "It's taken me thirteen years to get ready to make this change. It's very hard for me to imagine you're ready after only a year!"

"Probably one of the differences between men and women," he commented. I didn't say anything to that; perhaps it was true. He went on, "When your husband died, I'm sure you were kept busy with your kids. You had to keep going, but it hasn't been the same for me at all. Sure, I've been able to continue with my work, but I still have had way too much time all alone, to think over my life. Especially my relationship with Bob," he hesitated briefly and added, "and with Marshall....I can't tell you how many hours I've spent thinking about it..."

I looked at him, and hearing him talk like this, I wanted to know more. I wanted to hear what it was like for a father to accept having a gay son...it was another thing that was probably was much different for mothers. Although I thought I knew how Dick would react, I wanted to hear others talk about it. It felt very natural for me to offer to show Jim around our city to help him make this move.

"You must be one shrewd realtor, Mara," he joked. "You didn't take more than thirty seconds to make that offer!"

Feeling myself blush, I tried to explain, "Jim, I really wasn't thinking about selling you anything! I really want to hear more about your relationship with Bob, and I'd be so happy to show you around. Really!"

"Well, in that case, let's plan on tomorrow. Can I pick you up around one?" Just as he said that, I heard the doorbell ring and the front door open as Ginny and Andrea arrived, with Andrea opening the door without waiting for anyone. Marshall had really warmed up to Andrea, especially after their initial meeting and consultation over her dreadlocks, and they hugged like old friends. Jim and I brought the coffee and desserts out to the dining room, and I introduced him to Andrea and Ginny. We settled down to enjoy the dessert, but this time, Jim pulled one of the smaller chairs next to me at the end of the table, and pulled another one next to the other end, for Ginny and Andrea.

And that is how my relationship with Jim began. Part of me felt embarrassed that I had come on too strongly by offering to show him around, but part of me felt as excited as a teenager going on her first date as I looked forward to spending time with him alone the next day.

## Chapter 24

As it turned out, our "first date" turned out to be far more like a date than a real estate appointment. We drove around a little, and I tried to point out some of the city's more interesting features. Before too long, though, Jim suggested we stop and have some lunch. Of course, I brought him to Our Place.

When we walked in, Keyonna greeted me with the familiarity of a regular customer, for which I guess at this point, I qualified. Jonathan was not working, but everyone knew I was his mother, and I received special treatment because of him. After Jonathan's graduation dinner here, Lily, Bob, Marshall and I had frequented the restaurant. Besides the good food, I enjoyed the atmosphere and patrons. It gave me a better opportunity to people-watch than many of the restaurants in town.

Jim and I were seated close to the same table as my first dinner here with Jonathan and Andrea, against the wall, but I sat across from him, not facing the open room. I did not see R.J. and over the summer, I had learned that he generally worked the dinner hours rather than lunch, which was generally when Jonathan worked. I knew they crossed paths coming and going at work, but if there was any more than that between them, I was not aware of it. Our waiter was Josh, who was familiar with me and asked me if I'd like my usual raspberry iced tea before asking Jim what he'd like. Jim asked how often I came here since I was apparently well-known. I told him the story of my visit here with Jonathan and Andrea, and I told him that Jonathan was now employed here. I repeated the story of Andrea commenting that our waiter might be gay, then later watching R.J. give him something written on a piece of paper, and as I told him, I said, "At the time, I just assumed he was hitting on Jonathan, giving him his phone number. But maybe he just asked him if he was looking for a summer job..." My voice trailed off; I was really just talking to myself, I realized.

Up to that point, I had been talking a lot, without really giving Jim a chance to say a word. He looked at me and shook his head. "You're really something, you know that?" He said it with a smile, not in a judgmental way.

"What do you mean?"

"Here you are, feeling bad for thinking someone was hitting on your son, who by the way, I didn't know was gay, and I never even thought like that the entire time Bob was growing up."

I was very surprised to learn he had not known Jonathan was gay and said so. I had just assumed Bob had told him. I still had so much to learn!

He shook his head sadly, "These are the things that haunt me, Mara. I never had an inkling with Bob, although Susie had. Even so, we rarely talked about it to each other, and never to Bob. And now, nearly fifteen years after learning about him, I still can't pick it up in others."

I smiled at him and tried to add some levity. "Guess you don't have "gay-dar." He looked at me without comprehension. Rather than explaining, I went back to Jonathan. "I'm more than a little surprised that Bob hadn't told you about Jonathan."

"That's just it, Mara. We NEVER talk about it. Never have."

"You'd like to change that, wouldn't you?" I asked.

Jim looked at me for several seconds before answering. "Part of me thinks I need to change and learn how to talk about Bob's...." He hesitated for a moment before choosing the word, "orientation," he paused here before continuing, "and part of me – I hope this doesn't sound as awful as it makes me feel – part of me never wants to hear about it or think about it. Mara, you know what a great guy Marshall is! I should be able to at least say that much to Bob, but I can't seem to say a word about it. That is the demon I have been dealing with for a long time. And since Susie's death, that demon has gotten much bigger."

My eyes must have lit up with recognition at that feeling, and I could see how torn it made Jim feel. I stretched my hands across the table and pulled his from the drink he was clutching to hold in mine. "I understand." He squeezed my hands back, and even though his was cold from his drink, that little squeeze warmed me right down to my toes.

That seemed to provide a cue to both of us, and simultaneously, we each put our hands back on our drinks. There was a lull in our conversation, but soon, Josh brought our food, which gave us something new to talk about. We began eating, and soon we discovered it very easy for us to talk about many other things. Each of us easily brought up our spouses, and for the first time, truly the first time since Dick had died, I felt comfortable with it. We talked about the kind of work Jim would do if he moved here, and we talked about my move into the condo. As we got up to leave the restaurant, I was shocked to see that two and a half hours had passed since we sat down. Jim brought me home so I could get ready to bring Jonathan to college the following day, but he said he'd like to come by on Tuesday. Perhaps we could finish the tour of town? I agreed – probably much too quickly – but the truth was, I couldn't wait to see him again.

## Chapter 25

I can't imagine what it would have been like to bring Jonathan to college without Gabby. This was my youngest, my baby, and the feeling of one door closing as we drove toward his college was very strong. I was so happy to have her along to keep me from wallowing in such thoughts. It was not a bad drive to the university, but I knew I would need her company on the ride back. As we drove, I knew that leaving my youngest child at college for the first time was going to be even harder than I expected, and in the end, Gabby had to drive on the trip back home because I could not stop crying.

As we neared the university, I would have been shocked to learn of Jonathan's choice for a dormitory if I had not lived through the past few months. I was aware that he was not in one of the large, traditional freshman dorms, but during the last hour of our drive, he told us more about the dorm he would be living in. He had been chosen to live in a co-ed building that was for students who were questioning their sexual orientation and felt most comfortable defining themselves as homosexual or lesbian. Because of that designation, it was the only dorm on campus that had suites made up of males and females. Apparently, a graduate of the university had become very successful, and had fond memories of his college days as the first time his homosexuality was accepted. Because of that, he had a dream for other young people to make it even better for them. He had made a donation to the university for building a dorm that was for students who were, at least at this point in their lives, not inclined toward heterosexuality. He insisted the suites include mixed sexes, because he felt that gave a better chance to those who were only experimenting to find out who they were. It had not been easy to get a state school to accept his stipulations, but given the size of the donation, he had somehow managed.

Jonathan continued to explain the process. Applicants had to write an essay to be chosen for this dorm, and a panel of professors and the donor himself selected the small group of fifty students for the dorm. Those selected did not have to share their dorm choice with their parents unless they chose to do so. Jonathan proudly explained that his application had been late, because he had not learned about it prior to the deadline, and that he had been selected as a student whose family was supportive. If he had not had a supportive family, it was likely he would not have gotten in. The idea was to mix both genders and students with accepting families and those whose families did not accept their sexuality, and apparently there were more applicants without support. He briefly added there were some activities sponsored by the dorm, but didn't elaborate.

I know I was lucky that Jonathan explained this to me at all, but I couldn't help feeling a little left out that he hadn't told me sooner! I realized Gabby knew about it and I wondered if that was part of the reason Sam hadn't come home with her. Finally, after a typical silence on my part, I asked, "Jonathan, how did you learn about this dorm?"

His answer took me by surprise. "Bob told me about it that first time I met him."

I remembered that day and how he and Bob had disappeared for so long that I had become uncomfortable. I should have been thrilled because now I was learning that Bob was offering my son the kind of support I wanted to give him but had no idea how. I never knew this dorm existed!

When we arrived, the moving in part kept me going without getting too emotional. It was a lot of physical work, especially because the upperclassmen had the lower floors, and the incoming freshmen were at the top. This was the hierarchy, and it made bringing in all his things quite tiring. Then we had the task of setting it up.

The suite was pretty similar to the one Gabby had as a freshman; it was small and functional. Each student had a very small bedroom with room for a twin bed and a built-in dresser and desk, and there was a private bathroom for the four sharing it, rather than the large communal style bathroom Gabby had had in the older dorm style. There was also a kitchen area with a stove, kitchen, refrigerator and dishwasher. That was probably the nicest part of the dorm, because it had a full-sized refrigerator which made the usual little dorm-sized ones unnecessary. I met two of Jonathan's three roommates. Shelby was a tall, athletic young woman who was attending the university on a basketball scholarship. Her parents had not brought her, but I met her oldest sister, who was a few years older than Gabby. I wondered if her sister brought her because she hadn't told her parents about the dorm, or if it was because she had...Shelby and Jonathan seemed to get along well from the start; they had traded emails prior to coming, and she already knew that he had run cross country in high school. She immediately asked him if planned to continue running, mentioning she wanted a running partner. Also, both were undecided about their major as freshmen. Shane, the other boy in the suite, was arriving just as we were leaving. His father was as dark as Marshall and his mother was a petite blonde. They were cordial but not overly friendly. Shane somehow reminded me of the old Lily, with the way his hair was styled and his skin color, but I didn't say that out loud. I didn't have an opportunity to talk to them long enough to learn anything about Shane or his family.

Jonathan was as comfortable in his own skin and as excited as I had ever seen him, and he didn't hide the fact that he was ready for me to leave, so I didn't get to meet his remaining roommate. He walked us out to the car and even opened the door for me. My heart felt like it was twisting like a pretzel as the reality that my baby was in college hit me. I started crying right away, but Gabby gave her brother a big hug, and told me to start driving. I wasn't used to her giving me orders, but I obeyed. However, we weren't more than a block away when she gave me further directions.

"Pull over right here, Mom," she said gently. The tears were streaming down my face, but I managed to pull the car over and put it in park. Then I started sobbing uncontrollably.

"Mom, it's going to be all right!" she sounded slightly exasperated, but was still gentle. I couldn't find any words to express how I was feeling, so we sat there for a few minutes as I continued crying.

Finally, she said, "Let's trade places so I can drive. If we wait for you to stop..."

"That might take all day," I finished the sentence. But I did get out and let her take over the driving.

Leaving my Jonathan that day was harder than I'd ever expected. I knew he was ready for college, but I wasn't ready for what was next. I didn't even know what I thought was next, and I'm not sure I would have gotten through the rest of that first week with Jonathan away at college if it wasn't for Jim.

## Chapter 26

That first week with Jonathan gone and Jim in my life flew by. Jonathan did not call me or email nearly as much as I wanted to hear from him, but I knew better than to call him. He did tell me the final roommate was another girl; her name was Theresa but she called herself Tank, and she was majoring in computer technology. He briefly told me about his tour of the campus that was part of freshman week, and promised to call me over the weekend. I wanted to know so much more, but it was enough to know he was excited and happy.

Getting ready to move and my work kept me busy, and I tried not to dwell on my empty nest. Jim was still visiting Bob, and we talked or saw each other every day. He had been vague about when he'd head home and get back to own work. By keeping in touch by phone and email, he was able to keep up with the necessary work and didn't talk about going back. He was a huge help with getting ready for the move by not only helping Bob and Marshall pack and load their rented truck, but also by helping me. I had hired movers, and on the day the moving van brought my furniture to the condo, he helped me figure out where to put things away. I had only moved the furniture I thought would fit, and Bob and Marshall had offered to keep the rest since they didn't have enough to fill the house, telling me they would be more than happy to buy it from me. I had told them we'd wait to see if I needed more of it before we decided about that. Jim and I worked together efficiently, ordered pizza for dinner, and as the night wore on, it just seemed to make sense to u that Jim should spend the night.

"I think it would be nice for Bob and Marshall to spend the first night in their new home without my company," he said when it first came up. He waited for me to answer, but I was trying to figure out what he was trying to say. Was it because he wanted to give them privacy? Was he thinking about their sex life? Then another thought crossed my mind: was he thinking about his and my sex life? Before I worked up the nerve to ask what he meant, he continued,

"When Susie and I bought our first house, her mother came to visit for two weeks. We didn't get to "christen" our new bedroom until she left..."

I giggled and told him a similar story about Dick and me, this one having to do with his mother visiting just as Gabby turned six weeks old. That meant I was just given the doctor's approval to have sex for the first time since giving birth, but we had not felt free to do that with his mother in the next room, so we had waited. I was impressed that he was able to think about Bob and Marshall in those terms, and I told him so. Our conversation was so open, that I felt comfortable, even though it surprised me, saying to him, "Jim, you staying here tonight...you're not thinking we'll be sleeping together, are you?"

He chuckled, actually laughed a little out loud at that. "No! But is that an invitation?"

I shook my head no, and he said, "Good, because that would be moving way too fast for me!"

He slept in the guest room that first night....

In the morning, he was up making coffee before I woke up, and he spent the rest of that morning doing anything he could to help me feel settled. He set up my computer and made sure it was working properly. Then we brought lunch to Bob and Marshall, and the two of them couldn't hide the enjoyment they were getting out of their new home. I also sensed they were tickled that Jim and I were getting along. They were careful not to pry, but it wasn't a secret to them that he had spent the night. Lily came by at dinner time, and brought flowers for Marshall and Bob as well as for me. Bob was in the kitchen, cooking up a storm in his new kitchen, and I thought she'd stay and have dinner with us, but she said she had to go to a school function for Danny. I realized I felt glad she didn't stay. I was tired and I think a bit jealous. I had been wondering about the rest of the night. I wasn't sure if I wanted Jim to come back to my place, maybe even spend the night again, maybe not in the guest room this time...I couldn't believe I was having such thoughts! The man had not even kissed me yet, and here I was, picturing him in my bed.

After dinner, Jim and I were walking around the yard together because Bob and Marshall had insisted they didn't want any help cleaning up from dinner, he surprised me by telling me he was leaving in the morning. I was unable to hide my feeling of disappointment.

"I really shouldn't have stayed this long," he told me. "Last night at your house, Mara, really made me think about things. I am enjoying your company so much!"

"It's been so wonderful having you here. I think I could get used to it without a problem." I agreed without hesitating.

"Don't worry; I'll be back before long." He became very quiet, and we walked back in the house just as Marshall and Bob had put the last dish away.

"I hope you don't feel we chased you out of the house," Marshall started to explain, "but if you felt that way, it's true, we did."

Bob picked right up where Marshall stopped. "We thought you might put things where you kept them...and we're trying to organize it for us!"

"I understand completely," I said. "I think it's time for me to go home to my place."

There was an awkward moment, at least for me, as we all seemed to wait to see what would happen. I wondered if Bob and Marshall thought Jim would come with me, or did they know he was leaving in the morning? They hadn't said a word about it during dinner. I turned to go out the front door, and Jim offered to walk me out to my car. It was such a strange feeling to leave my own house after all this time, but that feeling was almost eclipsed by my sadness over Jim leaving. Both feelings took me by surprise. He really hadn't said much to me since he had told me he was leaving in the morning, and this continued as we walked. He put his hand on my shoulder and gently turned me to face him.

"Mara, this has been an incredible eight days. Not only do I want to move here to be close to Bob, actually to learn how to be a good father to him, but now I feel this incredible magnetic attraction towards you..." His voice trailed off, and I wondered what exactly he meant. Was this because we shared having gay sons, or it was it more, along the lines I was feeling when I was thinking about him spending the night? I got my answer as he leaned towards me and gently kissed me. It was the first time I'd been kissed like that since Dick died.

## Chapter 27

My life was changing so quickly. Not only had I moved after all those years in the house, but my youngest son had gone off to college, and I had a blossoming romance to deal with. In the condo, sometimes, I still woke up in the morning not quite sure where I was. Many mornings, the phone ringing woke me up before the alarm rang. Sometimes it was my sister calling, other times, Gabby, but most often it was Jim. Jonathan did not call me in the mornings, but rather in the early evening, and when he did call, I couldn't get him to stay on the phone for long. Some days, he sent me short emails. He seemed to be adjusting to college very well. He said he really liked Shelby, he said, but Shane was incredibly shy and therefore hard to get to know. The fourth member of their suite, the young woman named Tank, was way over the top, according to Jonathan.

During one of his brief calls, he told me, "Tank – I told you that's what she calls herself - isn't like any girl I've ever known! She's more masculine than me!" He went on to tell me that she shaved every morning, that she and Shelby argued over everything, and that Shane seemed afraid of her. There was no opportunity for me to interject an opinion as he went right from that subject to his classes, which didn't begin until the following Monday. This week was filled with activities designed to acclimate the freshmen to college life. It was called Freshman Orientation week, which seemed to include lots of parties at night, and opportunities to get involved in different clubs and organizations during the day. So far, he had gone running with Shelby twice. They seemed to hit it off well, and were both taking advantage of all the activities. I looked forward to hearing from him and it was never a long enough conversation when he did call.

Nearly every morning, Jim called to say good morning, tell me his plans for the day and ask me about mine. He wasn't going to come back to town for at least a month, but our relationship was growing through the frequent telephone conversations. We were getting to know each other pretty well, and the initial attraction was growing. Although he knew it might take several months, he was trying to find a law office that needed his skills here, and he had to tie up the loose ends on his current work. He was even giving some of his accounts away to younger members of his firm to expedite things. He also called again at night, and assured me he was slowly cleaning out the home he had shared with Bob's mother for many years.

"I could come and help you with that," I heard myself offer late one night.

There was a short pause before he answered, "Really? You want to come here and help?" Apparently he looked around and saw some sort of chaos, as he added, "It might take me a week to make this place presentable enough for you to see it!"

I giggled, and told him I would be able to get away at the beginning of October, but I'd need to start making plans soon if he really thought I should come.

"I really want to see you!" he exclaimed, and I felt that warmth in my gut that made it hard for me to deny how much I wanted to see him, too.

Bob and Marshall didn't try to hide their enthusiasm when I told them during our next lunch that I was going to help Jim. In retrospect, I was so glad I was the one who went to help Jim. It's hard to imagine what their reaction would have been if they knew what I found when I arrived.

At first glance, Jim's house was not much different from many empty nesters homes I had seen over the years in my profession. There was memorabilia from days gone by, such as pictures of the children and mementos of their accomplishments. Then there were areas of new interest that had developed after the kids had left. For Jim and his wife, it appeared that Susie had taken classes in glass painting, and there were lovely displays of her work throughout the house. A matching carafe and glass set sat on the buffet in the dining room. It was frosted glass covered with small butterflies and flowers painted in cheerful colors. In the foyer, there was a beautiful oval mirror which had been painted to match the colors on the wallpaper, and another small mirror was in the half bath on the first floor, also painted with colors that matched the room. I thought Susie must have had a lot of talent and told Jim that. I also couldn't help but think that Bob had bought a house much like the one he had grown up in, which was a tribute to how he had grown up. I mentioned that to Jim, and it comforted him. Also displayed was a collection of war history videos and books, one of Jim's hobbies, but the music collection seemed fairly new. This was the part that was really a mess. There were CDs everywhere. Some of the artists were more along the oldies but goodies type, but it was obvious they were new because the originals most certainly had not been on CDs. Jim had a good sound system, and his new collection included Elton Jon, Queen, K.D. Lang, Melissa Etheridge, and the Indigo Girls. I asked him how long he'd been listening to these artists.

"Only since Susie died," he replied. "We never listened to music much together – we had very different tastes, I guess, but after she was gone, I started buying these." His hand swept over the table the CDs were laying on.

"Why these particular artists? Was their music comforting to you as you dealt with her death?"

He shook his head, no, and wondered, "You don't know what they all have in common?"

I felt as though I had stepped back to my own life just six months ago. Jim had done what I had done by inviting Bob and Marshall to dinner because they were gay. These artists all made beautiful music, but had he considered it "gay" music? To me, it was just music with no sexual orientation necessarily attached. However, I couldn't help wonder if he had begun this collection as an effort to get closer to Bob? As my thoughts explored this idea, I realized that I was pulling my usual old Mara routine, not saying a thing but following my thoughts as they ran around in my head. I'm not sure what look registered on my face, but it was most likely a smile of some sort because Jim thought I was laughing at him.

Very sincerely, he said, "It's not funny, Mara! How am I supposed to understand Bob if I don't find some way to connect?"

I had never said it aloud, but with these words, he confirmed it. He had done exactly what I had with Marshall and Bob. "I'm not laughing, Jim," I gently told him. "Some of this music might have given you the insight you seek, but hasn't listening to all of these musicians taught you this one thing? The feelings of love we feel are human, not heterosexual or homosexual..." I let my voice drift off, as I put on one of the numerous Indigo Girls' CDs. I sat down on his couch and we listened to some of the words. They spoke of falling in love with a friend. Such love was an amazing thing, and the words of the song were strong and clear about the importance of believing in each other and believing in love.

Their harmonies were beautiful. I reached out and pulled him down on the couch to sit next to me, and we sat, holding hands, listening to that beautiful love song. The air in the room became noticeably warmer as he took my face in his hands and kissed me, over and over, all the while as the music played on.

It was to the Indigo Girls singing that Jim and I made love. For me, it was the first time in so many years, and for him, it was the first time since his wife had become too ill. Afterwards, we lay in each other arms and both of us cried. The memories of Dick were flooding my mind, and I'm sure it was the same for him with thoughts of Susie.

He broke our somber mood by saying, "I usually don't cry..." and I said, "I don't usually have sex!" and we started giggling together. I felt so close to him, closer to him at that moment than I had felt towards anyone in so long. I basked in the feeling like a turtle sunning itself on a log. I wished the feeling would last forever.

## Chapter 28

My long weekend with Jim ended much too quickly, but it was the best time I could remember having in a long, long time. We accomplished so much in getting him ready to move, including organizing his newly enlarged music collection. The more time I spent with him, the more I wanted to be with him. We were both getting used to the idea of having another important person in our life after a long drought. Our behavior together was like a roller coaster of emotions. We cried after making love, giggled like pubescent teens when we showered together, and sometimes, we would sit quietly together like a couple who had been together for many years. We fell into a natural pattern; for example, in the morning, he was up before me, making coffee, and I was always trying to put a homey touch into his life, which seemed to have become rather stark without a woman's influence. I picked some roses and put them in a small vase on the table. He smiled when he saw that. Sometimes we were strangers falling in love, but other times it felt like I was home, just being with him.

Jim told me about the firms he had applied to and I knew it was just a matter of time before one of them hired him. When it was time for me to leave, I felt sad and wanted to have more time with him, but at the same time, I knew it would happen. As soon as I got back home, I started looking for a place for him to live. Like me, he no longer wanted a house. He playfully offered to move in with me, but we both knew it was too soon for that. Every time I emailed information on a condo for sale to him, he would call me up and take a virtual tour simultaneously with me. As his plans moved forward, my heart grew with anticipation.

The next time we would be able to get together was Thanksgiving. Jonathan had decided to come home for the holiday weekend; it was the first time he was coming home since he'd begun college. Marshall and Bob had invited the three of us, along with Ginny and Andrea, and Lily to have Thanksgiving with them. Lily had asked if she could bring a man with her, someone she had met at the church she was now attending. Marshall and Bob were happy to have another guest and told her that. Jonathan readily accepted the invitation when I asked him about it, which surprised me. He hadn't spent a great deal of time with Bob and Marshall, and I thought going back to our old house might feel strange. I also thought he would never want to lay eyes on Lily Becker again, but he told me he had moved on from that day, and from what I'd been telling him, he thought Lily had, too. I agreed with him. Part of me thought his eagerness to go had to do with their excellent cooking skills; he knew Bob and Marshall were much better cooks than me. Whatever the reasons for Jonathan agreeing to this arrangement for Thanksgiving, I was very much looking forward to it.

Jim and I had a dilemma as to whether it was all right for him to stay with me while Jonathan was there, and I sought help with it from Bob and Marshall. I simply dropped over one night after dinner and they welcomed me warmly.

"Okay, you two. I have a problem." I was direct with them, and as I explained, "Bob, this is rather weird for me to talk to you about. It's your father, and we're thinking that he'll stay at my place for Thanksgiving. I've been wondering... how do you think that will be for Jonathan?"

Bob's characteristic eyebrow went up and back down really quickly. After knowing him for months now, I still wasn't sure how to read that raised eyebrow. Marshall didn't try to conceal his smile, and Bob shook his head. "First I'm going to have to sort out how I feel about it, before I try to figure out things for Jonathan," he began slowly.

For a moment, I felt embarrassed and the heat rose in my face, but he immediately broke out in a smile and said, "Calm down, Mara! I'm just pulling your leg. I have never seen my father as happy as he's been these past few months. He and I are actually talking about real things for the first time ever! He and my mom were always compatible, but I think this change in him is because you two have a unique connection."

I sighed with relief, and smiled back, "Thanks, Bob! I was horrified for a minute to think I shouldn't have asked you about this!"

Marshall cleared his throat and said, "How considerate you are to think about Jonathan. I really don't see any problem, but why not just mention it to him and gauge his reaction?" Bob nodded his agreement, and they made me feel I was worried unnecessarily. Their answer also sounded a lot like something Patrick would say. Next, our conversation moved to Thanksgiving dinner and what they wanted others to bring, what time, and all the particulars. Before I left, I did mention Jonathan's frustration over his one roommate. Bob leaned forward in his chair and ever so seriously commented,

"He's complaining about his roommate? How unusual." He kept a straight face for a moment, until he allowed a smile to break through. Once again, my friends had brought me back to the real world.

I knew it was useless to try to call Jonathan, so I waited for him to call me before mentioning my plans with Jim for Thanksgiving. When he called, I brought it up immediately. There was a long pause, along the lines of what I imagine a pregnant pause would be like. Finally, he spoke.

"Wow, Mom! You beat me to my own question. I was going to ask if I could bring someone home with me. One of the guys here in the dorm definitely won't be going to his home in New York for Thanksgiving and...."

His voice trailed off. I knew I had to tread carefully; I wondered if this was a special someone for him, or just a friend he wanted to show some hospitality. Before I spoke, he continued,

"Well, I guess if you've invited Jim, there isn't room for Amir. I wouldn't want to ask him to sleep on the couch."

That gave me a lot of information. He was a bringing a friend home for Thanksgiving, just as Gabby had when she was a freshman. But why wasn't there room for him? "Jonathan, of course you can bring him home, and there's room. He can stay in Gabby's room. You know she doesn't get Thanksgiving off at McGill," I said without hesitation.

"You're confusing me, Mom. Are you going to uninvite Jim or are you thinking he'll stay with Bob and Marshall?"

Obviously, I hadn't done a very good job of keeping Jonathan up to date with my relationship with Jim. These days, it seemed we only spoke long enough to find out how he was doing before the phone call was over. Feeling a little awkward, I decided to just tell him.

"Jonathan, didn't you know I've been seeing Jim? Remember, I even went to visit him. He's planning to move here, probably in January. He'll stay here, with me, for Thanksgiving," I stopped for a moment before I added rather shyly, "in my room, you know?"

Another long pause followed before he said a word. Finally all he said was, "Really? When you first talked about moving, I hoped something like this might happen, Mom. I guess I should have paid more attention to Bob's father! You did say you were going to visit him, but I never put two and two together."

His reaction to my news was so warm and positive that my feelings of awkwardness dissipated like a lump of sugar in a cup of hot coffee. We continued to make plans regarding when he and Amir would arrive and other details. He actually stayed on the phone long enough to tell me had his first test in Sociology and Algebra this week, and how much he was enjoying his Psychology class. He was not doing well with Biology, though, and was planning to go to this week's help session. It was the longest we had spoken since he had left, and before we hung up, he said, "Mom, that's very cool about Jim. Thanks for letting me bring Amir home; his parents are not okay with this dorm situation. I'm looking forward to Thanksgiving a lot. Bye."

And he was gone. I felt a mixture of emotions: Relief that Jim being with me over Thanksgiving was not likely to cause a problem for us, delight that we had spoken for so long, and concern about helping his friend feel comfortable in our home. Most of all, I realized I was looking forward to Thanksgiving with some of my favorite men.

## Chapter 29

Before I knew it, it was the day before Thanksgiving. I had to pick Jim up at the airport in the early in the afternoon, and Jonathan and Amir expected to arrive in time for dinner. Jonathan had already told me not to make dinner because he was hoping we could go to Our Place with Jim and Amir. That was fine with me.

Jim and I had a blissful few hours together. He brought the Indigo Girls' CD and we instant replayed our first time listening to it. It was a wonderful way to begin our Thanksgiving weekend. Afterward, he laughed as I tried to cover our tracks, just like teens try to hide it from their parents. I was busy remaking the bed.

"How are you going to hide that "I just made love" look on your face?" he teased. When I looked in the mirror, I hoped the reflection was magnifying the radioactive glow I had. I turned to look at him, and complained, "Why don't you have it, too?"

He stopped smiling and became very serious. "Oh Mara, don't you know I do? It's just in the inside! I am crazy about you!" And tenderly, he gave me another passionate kiss.

Then he told me he had received a great offer to start in January, just as we were hoping. We had to find him a condo that he could move into by January. What a great way to begin the weekend!

Jonathan and Amir had gotten a ride with a student a few years older than Jonathan who had been on the track team with him. He dropped them off about a half hour before our dinner reservations, so there was little time to show Jonathan the condo or to get to know Amir. I wanted to make this young man feel welcome.

My first look at him revealed skin the color of caramel and shiny black hair pulled back in a short ponytail. His physique was on the slender side, and he seemed to be a pleasant, outgoing young man. Something about him seemed more effeminate than Jonathan. He wore a diamond earring in his right ear and numerous leather bracelets. He told Jim and me he had grown up in New York City but his parents were from Pakistan. That was all I learned from him before we drove to Our Place.

I was disappointed that we barely had time to show Jonathan all of the condo, since he had not been home since I had moved. I had set it up quite similarly to the house, but it was still new for him. He was really enthusiastic and seemed really happy with our new home, and said he'd have all weekend to become familiar with it.

In the car, I asked Amir if Jonathan had told him anything about the restaurant or that he had a summer job there.

"Oh yes, he told me the food was amazing, and that it was the most fun summer job I could imagine. I've been working in my parents' store since I was old enough to stock the shelves, so any job seems fun comparatively."

Jim began asking them if certain restaurants and landmarks were still near the university, and before we knew it, we were parking the car.

Once inside, tall, regal Keyonna gave Jonathan a bear hug, and greeted me so warmly I felt like family. R.J. was working and would be our waiter. He, too, gave Jon a bear hug, and I thought I saw him ask a question with his eyes as he looked over at Amir. Immediately, Jonathan introduced him and explained, "Amir was going to stay in the dorm for the long weekend, but I thought he'd enjoy coming home with me. This is R.J., you remember I told you about him?"

Amir nodded and smiled as he shook his hand, and it again was left to my imagination to try to figure out the relationship between my son and our waiter. Regardless, R.J. certainly was a fine waiter and we had our orders almost before we asked for them. If possible, the quality of the food was even better than my last visit. We tried to order on the light side since it was the night before Thanksgiving, but it was hard to do because the food was so delicious. On this night, the restaurant was not overly busy. Occasionally, a member of the staff, including Dage at one point, would pull up a chair to chat with our table and ask about our food, but mostly they wanted to talk with Jonathan for a few minutes. Amir found that really special and commented as we drove home, "What a great place! It was so obvious how much they all like you, Jon!"

Jonathan didn't really say anything, but I was sure he was smiling. I thought he must be thrilled to show his college buddy a different side of his life.

When we got back to the condo, we had more time to walk through and show him our new home. It seemed strange for me to show my own son our house this way, but he seemed genuinely at ease. We sat in the living room for just a little longer, as I tried to make sure Amir felt comfortable in our home. I was so surprised at how at ease Jonathan felt with Jim. They again talked about places on campus and even referred back to their first meeting at the old house. Amir joined in now and then, but he was on the quiet side.

It was awkward, at least for the two of us, when Jim and I decided to call it a night, but at that moment, I really appreciated the layout of the condo. From the front door, the foyer opened to the living room, which led to the dining area and kitchen. To the left, a hallway that led to the master bedroom suite and to the right, another hallway led to the other two bedrooms. Marshall and Bob had used one as an office, but I was using the small built-in office area in the kitchen instead of one of the bedrooms. That way, both Gabby and Jonathan each still had a room of their own. Now, the layout gave Jim and me privacy and distance from the other bedrooms, which was certainly nothing I had considered the first time I had come to the visit Marshall and Bob!

## Chapter 30

Jim and I talked for a long time before turning out the lights that night. He told me it felt so amazing that he and Jonathan could talk – he said they were better at it than he and Bob! "Mara, not only has our relationship given me a part of my life I never expected to have again, but it's given me a chance to learn more about being a father. I know my relationship with Bob is improving, and just maybe, I can be there for Jonathan. It's beyond anything I could imagine!"

"Me, too! I thought Jonathan would never have a father-figure, but I was so wrong, Jim. He's so warm and accepting with you, and he seemed to have fit in at the restaurant very well, too, where there are so many males. Did you see how comfortable he was?"

"The owners are really quite special, Mara. They make everyone feel like family."

Next we talked about Amir, and I told Jim I was a little worried that tomorrow might put him in the same boat I had nearly put Jonathan in at my first, near disastrous dinner invitation to Bob and Marshall. But he told me he didn't think the situation was even close to the same.

"You did that as a mother who was trying hard to help her son, and Jonathan was not all involved in setting it up. But Jonathan invited Amir, knowing full well the situation. Remember, they are living in a special dorm situation, and it's all out in the open for them. I don't think you'll really ever know how "in" or "out" Jonathan was here, but my guess is, he wasn't too far in or he wouldn't have sought that dorm."

I hadn't thought like that until Jim said it, and I realized he was probably right. For a few moments, I basked in the wonderful feeling of talking about my son with someone who cared. I had felt that void in my life over the years, and even more so when I acknowledge what I had always known: that Jonathan was gay. This new feeling was beyond anything I could have imagined. I think it was the same for Jim. He was having a chance to be the kind of parent he had never been for Bob. I said a silent prayer of thanksgiving for having all of this.

"You asleep?" he asked.

"No, just thinking how wonderful this feels, lying next to you in bed and talking. Having you and knowing we have so much to share. It feels great..."

"It does to me, too." He hugged me closer, and we turned out the lights.

## Chapter 31

Thanksgiving morning was lazy. It began with Jim making a late breakfast for the four of us. I finally had some time to really talk to Jonathan about his classes and how he thought his first semester's grades would be. His answers made me think he had it under control; time would tell. It was our first Thanksgiving without Gabby, and we planned to call her in the evening. Patrick called in the early afternoon; he was volunteering with his youth program; they were making and serving Thanksgiving dinner for seniors in the community. He promised to come up during the holidays when Jonathan was home.

I had offered to bring a pie, and I had more help than I needed while I was making it. Amir came right in the kitchen, sat down, and asked me to show him how I made the crust, and when I was enthusiastic about teaching him, we decided we'd each make a pie. He told me he had only learned to make Pakistani food growing up and found it quite enjoyable to be making a traditional American food on this holiday. I had planned to make only one apple pie, but I found a can of pumpkin in the cupboard that I had moved from the house, so we made one of each. Jim and Jonathan came in and started peeling the apples without being asked. My kitchen was warm and busy, and even though it was still a new place for all of us, it felt like home.

When we packed everything up to take to Marshall and Bob's, the pies were still warm. After spending the morning in the kitchen, Amir knew about the "house swap," and remarked, "I bet it seems kind of weird going to your old house, Jon."

Jonathan hesitated for a minute before saying, "You know, it really doesn't. You can see my mom is good right here, and I'm expecting it will be the same with Bob and Marshall at the old house. I guess it all just seems right."

I felt the same way, and I wondered what it was like for Jim. It was probably stranger for him to stay at the condo last night with me than it was to go to my old house to see Bob, and I really hadn't thought much about that until this moment.

"Jim," I began, as we were on the way out to the car, "was it really strange for you last night? I hadn't really thought about it having been your son's house!"

He cleared his throat and said quietly, "There were some moments for me, but let's talk about that, um, more privately?" and looked back at Jon and Amir walking down the steps.

"Gotcha," I smiled. Probably it wasn't the right conversation to have in front of those two.

In the car, I finally thought to ask Amir what his major was, or if he even had one. That was when I first understood how his home life must be very different than Jonathan's.

"My family has decided that I will take over the store when I graduate. I will take business classes." He said it rather robotically, devoid of any enthusiasm. It was nothing like the conversation we had as we made the pies.

"What would you like to be taking?" Jim asked.

Sadly, Amir said, "There's no point in thinking about that, is there?"

I didn't know how to respond, so to Jonathan, I said, "Did you tell Amir how great the food is likely to be?"

"He most definitely did mention that." Amir answered my question. "My only Thanksgiving dinner experiences were at my schools as I was growing up. My parents mainly have Pakistani friends, so this will be my first official Thanksgiving dinner."

"You're in for a real treat," Jim told him. "My Bob is quite a good cook, and so is Marshall." Jim went on to tell us that Bob had begun cooking when he was little. He had enjoyed watching the cooking channels on TV, and initially, he'd try to talk his mother into making some of the things he saw, but by the time he was ten, he was in the kitchen, trying to do it himself.

"Did you expect him to take it up as a career?" Jonathan wanted to know.

"He always told us it was a hobby, that was all, so no, I didn't," answered Jim.

I wondered what had made Jonathan ask that question about Bob's career, but we had just arrived at our old house, so I had no opportunity to ask.

The house smelled amazingly delicious, even as we got out of the car. I was still concerned that we were going to overload Amir. Before we knocked on the door, Marshall opened it and welcomed each of us warmly. He and Jonathan gave each other a brief hug, and for Jim and me, it was a group hug. He was expecting Amir, and using his name, he shook his hand as he told him how happy he was to have him as a guest for this Thanksgiving.

Ginny and Andrea arrived right after we did, and as we introduced them to Amir, the doorbell rang again. This time, it was Lily, who had brought the man from church with her. A quick glance at Marshall told me there was a problem with this guest, however.

I saw him greet Lily warmly and then, warily look at the man with her. "Marshall, thanks for letting me bring someone along." Lily started to make the introductions, but she stopped when she realized they looked at each other with recognition.

Her date was tall, nearly as dark skinned as Marshall, and, unlike Marshall's, his head was bald. He was very handsome. His skin was smooth, his eyes were large brown pools of dark chocolate, and set wide apart. He looked into Marshall's eyes, which I suddenly realized were similar, and he quietly said, "Oh, Marshall, it is you! I vaguely hoped that when Lily said we were going to have dinner with someone named Marshall that it could be you. When she told me he had a 'partner,' my hope grew. And now I am looking at you, after ten years. It's great to see you, Marshall."

The room grew very quiet. Bob came into the kitchen in time to see the two men staring at each other, but he clearly didn't know who Lily's guest was. I watched him look from the guest to Marshall and back, and I wondered if he, too, had noticed they looked alike. Lily seemed genuinely confused, as she said, "Weston, what are you saying? You thought you might know Marshall but failed to mention it to me? Weston?"

To Lily, Weston said, "I'll explain in a minute," but he never looked away from Marshall. It was silent for a few moments as we all stood awkwardly in the foyer, unsure what we were witnessing. Finally to Marshall, Weston quietly said, "Please forgive me, cousin. I was miserable to you when you were young; I didn't accept you. I was wrong to treat you like that, and I always hoped I would one day be able to apologize."

I saw Marshall begin to relax. There was still no smile on his face, but the anger that I had felt radiating from him was softening. I had truly never seen Marshall angry before, and I felt relief that he was losing that feeling. Lily looked from Weston to Marshall and back and asked, "Did you call him cousin?"

Finally, Marshall spoke. "Yes, yes, he did call me cousin." He said it softly, but then a bit louder, he repeated, "This is my cousin Weston, everyone. I lived with him when I was growing up, after my mom died. We have not seen each other in many years."

The tension in the room visibly lessened, as Marshall asked them to come inside and took their coats. Bob came to Marshall's side. "This is really unexpected!" I saw him look at Marshall for reassurance that he was all right with Weston's presence, and Marshall nodded.

It was the first time I had ever seen Lily flustered. She looked around at all of us – we were still standing in the foyer - and said, "Before another minute passes, do you think you could pour me some of this wine we brought?"

That helped lighten the mood and Bob ushered all of us into the living room. Once we were in there, some standing and some seated, Marshall introduced each of us to Weston, and as he moved from one person to the next, I saw he was becoming more comfortable.

First, he came to me, and said, "Weston, this is Mara. She used to own this house, and now she owns our old condo." From his reaction, I could sense that Weston was intrigued by this information. Next, Marshall said, "This is Jim, Bob's father. He will be moving up here soon, and he just happens to be dating Mara." As Winston digested this information, everyone began to relax and settle in. As soon as he observed this, Bob ran off to open the wine. They already had set the wine glasses out, but he had neglected to set out an opener. Otherwise, I don't think he would have left the room.

Marshall continued the introductions, giving a little background on each guest, and as he finished, a comfortable conversation began. There was another awkward moment when Lily and Jonathan looked directly at each other. She began to apologize, but he brushed it off with a wave of his hand. That was it. Since there really wasn't enough room for everyone to sit down comfortably, Andrea came right over to Jonathan and Amir, and after introducing the two, the three of them all wandered out of the living room toward the kitchen.

We busied ourselves making small talk, and before long it was time for dinner to begin. The dining room, my old dining room, looked even better with their furniture. It was the same mahogany color, but everything was bigger than mine. Their table easily held the ten of us and all the food. As we sat, Marshall asked if we could say a Thanksgiving grace. I noticed Weston's look of surprise, but all of joined hands and gave thanks for the meal and those who were sharing it with us. I glanced over at Amir, and was pleased that he seemed comfortable with the tradition.

Needless to say, the meal looked and tasted delicious. Marshall and Weston had one awkward exchange early in the meal. Weston commented that he was pleasantly surprised that Marshall's faith seemed intact after all the hardship in his life. His words seemed genuine, but Marshall's response was strong.

"Weston, it is my faith that has seen me through the hardships. Without it, I could not have survived."

In response, Weston replied, "Surely you hold some resentment, cousin. It was bad enough how my brother and I treated you, but what my father did to you...I am sure you cannot forgive that."

"I believe we must forgive one another, cousin. I have forgiven all and moved on."

I couldn't imagine what Marshall had been through. It was the second time I'd heard his uncle had been horrible to him, but I still knew nothing specific. If Marshall could forgive it, did I need to know what it was?

After that, the rest of the conversation was very amicable. Lily, who really was having a difficult time over the situation she had caused, was calming down. I could see her agitation dissipate as the conversation began to flow easily.

Naturally, the topic of school came up. Andrea announced that she was beginning classes in January. Ginny was clearly pleased.

"I have to start part time, since my grades were so lousy the last part of high school. I have to prove I can do it before they'll take me full time."

Bob asked, "What are you going to study, Andrea?"

None of us were too surprised that she said she was going to major in psychology and would like to work as a youth counselor or social worker. She had been through a lot and would be a natural working with those going through tough times. "I'll keep working at the salon while I go," she added.

Next, Bob asked Amir what his major was, and he repeated the same rote answer he had given me, about studying business. Bob's right eyebrow went up for a moment, but rather than ask more, he moved on to Jonathan.

First, he asked Jon how the dorm was.

"Amir lives there, too. We're both freshmen."

Marshall looked at both of them, and said, "You are so lucky to have that dorm!" He told Weston about the dorm's donor, and watched carefully to see his reaction. There was nothing but acceptance as Weston's only remark was, "I imagine it's odd to live in a dorm with both sexes."

Amir answered first, saying, "It's actually more like a natural family. I have a brother and a sister, so I am used to living with both. I think it would be much worse with only males."

Jonathan didn't agree at all. "I have a sister, and I'm used to living with girls, obviously! Living with Shelby is all right, but I cannot say the same about Tank!"

He proceeded to describe her to the rest of the table, but Bob and Marshall were pretty tough on him, much to my surprise.

"Let me get this right," Bob said. "You are complaining about Tank because she is masculine?"

And right as he finished, Marshall added rather sternly, "Young man, I think that is pretty nervy!"

Much to my surprise, and to Lily's as I glanced at her, Weston was the next one to say, "Jonathan, I just met you but I can see you are surrounded by an amazing group of friends. Your dorm situation sounds like something others would want so badly. But if I hear what you're saying, you are actually putting down your roommate, I think because she's a lesbian?"

The table was quiet for moment. Ginny, who was as tolerant as they come, spoke up, "I don't think that's why you don't like her, is it?

Next Lily chimed in with, "Jonathan isn't like that!"

But Jonathan looked around and said quietly, "Oh, no. I think maybe I have been that way with her! I wasn't seeing it, but you are right!" He looked at Weston as he spoke.

Andrea looked around the table and trying to break the tension, she said, "Could someone please pass me the turkey? I think this is a straight turkey, although he hasn't ever had a chance to act on his sexuality since we have ended his life too early."

That made us all start laughing, and we began focusing on the dinner again, but I glanced over at Jonathan to see him mulling over the conversation we had just.

Bob spoke up as if there hadn't been any friction. "Now that we've covered dorm life, how about it, Jon? After nearly finishing your first semester, have you come up with any thoughts on what your major will be?"

I had not asked him this question, although Jim and I had talked about how long he could go without a major. But my son surprised me as he answered Bob. "Actually, I have. You all know, well, most of you know," he began, as he nodded toward Lily and Weston, who didn't know much about him, "that I worked at the restaurant this summer. I really loved the work, and I've decided to take some classes in restaurant management. Maybe even some cooking classes."

Jim was the first to respond, with great encouragement. Andrea said she could just see him managing Our Place so Dage could enjoy the profit the place was clearly making. Weston mentioned the restaurant business wasn't easy, but he was looking forward to going to Our Place with Lily. Everyone had an opinion about the career choice.

For me, my opinion was simple. I wanted my son to be happy.

On the way home, Amir summed up the day best. "This was an amazing day for me! I was able to see a world that does not exist within my family. What I was part of today was beyond anything I could imagine! As best I can tell, Marshall was rejected by his own family, but tonight he has been accepted, by at least one of them. I am sure there was a time that seemed out of the realm of possibility for him."

We were all quiet for a bit as our thoughts centered around what Amir had said. I realized he felt much like Marshall had when he was younger. Then, before any of us said a word, Amir continued, "Jonathan, you have an amazing family right here in the car, but I think that Marshall and Bob are sort of family for you, too, and Andrea seems like the coolest sister-friend! Thank you for letting me share this experience. You are so lucky, my friend."

Those words from Amir made me realize I had accomplished the goal I had wanted to so desperately many months ago, when Jonathan had said, "Mom, I'm gay."

###

## Note to Readers:

My hope is readers of this book will be moved in a way that will help improve acceptance. Mara still has some work to do on accepting those beyond the L and G in LGBTIQ, and I'm hoping to follow her journey. If you feel motivated to do so, I would appreciate a donation to the Human Rights Campaign, Reconciling Ministries, or another organization that promotes acceptance and equality.

