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March

I blew across the top of my coffee, staring out the window. Many of the windows at Joe were floor to ceiling. I always liked glancing out and seeing many people through the tinted glass. There were scattered tables outside in front of the coffeeshop and also on the side. The outside tables didn't run the entire length because the main doors to get in were positioned there also. I had never been by at night to see how easy it was to peer in through the tinted glass, if it was even possible.

Taking my first sip, I squinted my focus at the redbud trees across the street. They were planted between the curb and the sidewalk in front of Indigo, a nightclub. There were the slightest hints of red tips starting to bud. I knew full color was probably just a week or two away. I loved spring. The last few weeks had been mild, so the season seemed poised to burst into full glory. An early spring worked for me. I needed a period of rejuvenation.

I pondered the promises of spring. Would it be a fresh start for me? There wasn't a day that I woke up that I didn't look at the pillow next to me and think of Mitch. It had been almost ten weeks, and I still missed him. I still loved him. My soul was in this excruciating tug of war between earnest longing and bitter rejection. I was hoping my second sip of coffee would prompt me to focus on its flavor rather than life's crap-filled dumpster fire.

It's funny. I typically drink coffee black, but after having gazed over the flavor pumps at the beverage station, I played with something new. I swirled that sip over the taste buds a moment longer to notice the amaretto subtleties, like I was some pompous wine connoisseur. It had barely been half a squirt, but the tip of my tongue easily picked up on the foreign flavor intruder to my beverage. I inhaled as I held the sip within my mouth. After breathing out through my nostrils, I decided I had accepted this blasphemous variation. In fact, I liked it. At least for today. I wasn't about to get radical with my coffee or anything.

The sun was bright, even with the tinted glass. I'm sure it was the angle at this time of day, but I was pleased that the forecast was for warmth; it was to be nice enough for a T-shirt without a jacket later in the afternoon. Some college kids walked by in shorts and tank tops. That was ridiculous. It was just now edging to the 50-degree mark. But there will always be those people.

I noticed a shadow in my peripheral vision. I looked up to see a man standing near me. There was a hint of familiarity to him, but I couldn't place it. I didn't think it was anyone I knew.

"Are you expecting others?" he asked me.

His voice was the trigger. He was the man who stumbled and spilled his coffee on my leg a few weeks ago.

"Uh. No," I said, not sure what to say in response.

"I'm not sure if you remember ... well, actually I'm positive you remember. I was the one who tripped and dropped coffee on your jeans a few weeks ago. Again, I am so very sorry for that incident."

"Don't worry. It washed right out. It wasn't a big deal."

"May I join you? Or were you just wanting time to yourself?"

"Um. Sure. That's fine."

"I'm Emory," he said, pulling out a chair.

Emory had a folded newspaper under his arm. As he sat, he blocked some of my view of the sunny world beyond the window. It tended to silhouette his figure just a touch.

As my eyes adjusted, I looked at Emory. I would have to assume he was probably in his 60s. He had snowy white gray hair on both sides but was bald from the forehead back. His beard was a salt-and-pepper mix, with the "salt" being noticeably bright white. Despite being much older than me, he was cute in his own way. He carried himself well. Emory was wearing a black "Dark Side of the Moon" T-shirt. An open denim jacket was worn over it, but he took it off and hung it on the back of the chair.

"I'm Cooper."

"Nice to meet you Cooper. I promise to keep my balance today." He nudged the folded paper to the side and took the lid off his coffee. He smelled its aroma but didn't take a drink yet. "By yourself today, huh? Those fellows I saw you with last time ... your friends? Or was one a significant other?"

"Just friends. Kind of joining me for a pep talk. My significant other and I had just recently split apart."

"I see. I'm sorry," Emory said.

I took a deep sigh. "It is what it is."

"Well. You're a handsome fella. I'm sure you'll have no problem meeting someone else."

"You're not hitting on me are you, Emory?"

He laughed. Hard.

"Good grief, kiddo. I'm like ... how old are you?"

"38."

"Dear lord. I'm more than 25 years older than you. I'm 64. I think you're a little out of my league."

I chuckled. "Of course, I do hear of younger guys going after older men," I said with a smirky smile.

"Right. Sorry. I wish I had the money to be someone's sugar daddy. That's not happening. Yeah. No."

I drank some more coffee. Emory stirred a brown packet of Raw Sugar into his with a wooden stick.

"Completely none of my business, but how long had you and your ex been together?" he asked.

"Well, when you phrase it like that, I think of my ex as my ex-wife. We were married for 13 years. Mitch and I were together for about two."

"I see. Mitch and ex-wife. You're already the most interesting person in the coffeeshop."

I laughed at that. "I hardly think so."

"Sorry. I'm not intending to pry."

"I've seen you here twice, if not before my failed Cirque du Soleil act last time. Is Joe a Sunday haunt for you?"

"Kind of. I get my son every other weekend. When I'm alone, I like to come here. You know, be among `our kind.'"

"Our kind. You make it sound almost racist."

"Or a bar on Tatooine — hey, we don't serve droids here."

"I doubt if you remember the gentlemen I was with here last time. I know two of them quite well. We belong to ... a group. The other two are more casual friends. The oldest one among them had a bad breakup, and he cut himself off from the gay community. He admitted he let it go for too long. I didn't want that to happen to me. Not that I'm really doing anything. Just sitting in a coffeeshop on Sundays. But at least I'm here, among other gay people. I don't feel like I'm completely alone. At least ... in being gay. I guess."

"So you're not trying to meet anyone?"

"No. I wouldn't wish that on anyone."

"Why say such a thing? You're nice to look at."

"Eh. Superficial. I have so much baggage. I'm a couch case for anyone who tries to deal with me."

"So ... can I ask what happened with Mitch?"

"He cheated on me."

"Fuck Mitch."

"Sadly, I still love him."

"Mitch is the best," Emory countered. Then he chuckled, making me laugh.

"See? I'm a mess. I want to get over this, but I still really love him. I miss him. I miss us."

"I don't know what to say, Cooper. You're clearly not seeking advice, nor do I have any to give. I hope it is okay for me to say, `I hope it works out for the best.' At least I think you are holding up okay. I like your philosophy of at least not holing up in a cave."

We were quiet a moment and continued to sip coffee. Brad came around topping off coffee for people who wanted some more. It was a free warmup, but you were always offered a pastry or something. $3 for a croissant, $5 for a pastry like a cinnamon roll or jelly danish. Actual prices were listed at the counter. They never brought change. The remainder was considered a tip for the server patrolling the restaurant. Locals picked up on this quick, even though it wasn't posted anywhere. Everyone was pretty supportive.

"So, what about you Emory? Anyone in your life?"

"Now? No. I lost my partner about two years ago."

"Oh. I'm so sorry. I ..."

"No. No worries. Gene was great. We were together for about 20 years. Almost. I lost him to a heart attack. It was sudden. It scared the hell out of me. He was five years older than me. Still too young in my opinion. As much as I have missed him, I find the slightest of blessings that it was quick and not some lingering thing that would confine him to a bed or massive treatment. There was that, but I ... never got a chance to say goodbye or anything like that. Not that everyone does. You never really know. Make sure people in your life know you love them, Cooper."

"Sure. I tell my son that every time I see him."

I took a sip of coffee as I didn't know what more to add to the ongoing conversation. Sadly, that comment threw me into a well of my own thoughts. If I stayed there, I would drown with no way out. I had no one else to say "I love you" to. Okay, that wasn't exactly true. A few of us in the AA group were pretty comfortable saying it but more of in a deep friendship type of way. Who else would I say that to? Family?

 

"Mom, Dad, can we sit down?"

"What is it, Cooper? Is something wrong?" Mom said, sounding concerned by my very question.

"Kind of."

We sat in the living room. I left my beverage in the kitchen. Dad walked in with his leftover Dr. Pepper from lunch.

I felt like I was sweating about a liter of moisture every ten seconds. This was a horrible thing to report to your parents. They were going to hate it. They were going to hate me.

"I ... I ..."

"Son, you're frightening me," Dad said.

"I just don't know how to say it. To say it out loud sounds too horrible."

"Cooper..." Mom started.

"Mom, Dad. Natalie and I will be getting a divorce soon."

Both of them bolted upright, thrusting their bodies back into the cushions of the couch. It was as if they recoiled in my verbal gunshot.

"I don't understand," Dad said. "Neither of you have mentioned problems before."

"Things have been ... different lately. We don't feel the same as ... we did."

"Well, that happens in every marriage. Have the two of you talked about seeing a therapist or a counselor to see if things can be worked out?"

"Uh ... that's just it. I ... I don't think they can. You see...

"I ...

"I ..."

I was in hell. It was total damnation. How do you tell your parents that you are gay at the age of 36?

"Son, what is it?" Dad said, trying to coax me to finish.

"It's best that we split up. I can't love Natalie like she deserves. I've come to realize ... come to accept ... that ..."

Damn. I hated this. This was agonizing. I was sweaty. My heart was pounding. If I didn't know it was because I had to say what they were going to hate hearing, I would have been rushing to the hospital. My body was practically fighting itself.

"Stop scaring me, Cooper," Mom said.

"I'm gay!" I blurted out. "I ... know I'm gay. I've tried to ignore it — I did ignore it for so long, but — I'm ... I'm just gay. I am."

There. It was out. It was over. I said it. I managed to speak the words. Suddenly, the pounding in my ears started to subside. All the chaos in my head quieted down. But my heart was still beating rapidly.

It was too quiet.

My parents sat frozen. They just stared at me.

"Well, I don't believe it," said my mother, standing up. "That's not what is going on with you. It's just that ... that drinking. It's brought on these delusions."

"They're not delusions, Mom. They're feelings. It's what I feel. I just kept pushing it down and pushing it down, but ... I can't anymore."

"I don't understand," said Dad. "You were able to push those thoughts away before but not now? Where did all of this come from?"

"It's the drinking," Mom said.

"It's not the drinking. I drank because of these feelings. It's ... me. It's who I am."

Mom whimpered. Dad stood up and started pacing the room. I was back in hell. But at least I stopped sweating.

"Natalie and I have talked these past weeks. She's understandably shaken. And angry. And confused. But I'm trying to own up to all this. Just so you know, I joined AA a couple of weeks ago. I've stopped drinking completely."

"Well, that's something," my mother muttered.

Both my parents seemed lost in their thoughts. None of us spoke for a few minutes. It felt like eons.

"I ... I know this is a lot to process. How about we leave it at that for a moment, and I will talk to you later this week."

They caught their breath and sort of nodded and sort of jerked their heads away from looking at me.

"Please know that this is me... Cooper. The same me. You've known me and loved me all these years. It's still me. Always know I love you."

They pursed their lips. They didn't say anything in return.

"I'll just head out," I softly said and slowly walked to the door. I thought I might hear something from either of them. I did not.

 

"It feels wonderful every time my son says it back to me," I told Emory.

"I'm sure it does."

"I am sorry for your loss, Emory."

"We came here every Sunday. It was practically a ritual."

"Did you meet other friends?"

"On a rare occasion. But it was basically a way to start our Sunday. Instead of being lazy around the house, we got out and started being productive. I still do it each week." He took a sip. "Do you come every Sunday?"

"Well, as I said, not when I have my son Corey."

"Yes. Right. Well. Maybe we will see each other from time to time."

"Sure."

Emory looked at the front page and pointed to a headline. He was put off by some politician that he called a nitwit. I didn't want to discuss politics. It always brought me down. I listened for a couple of minutes and finished my coffee as he voiced his views.

"I think I'll head out and begin some productive things in my day." I stood up. "It was nice talking with you, Emory. I hope you have a nice day."

"Same here, kiddo. I hope to see you again."

I nodded to Brad behind the counter. He smiled back at me. He was cute, but very young. And his shorts were way too tight in my opinion. I started my car and began heading home. I could feel my body tense up. I wasn't looking forward to today.

 

—

 

I pulled into my parents' driveway. My sister had already arrived. Her Honda CRV was parked on the street. My Uncle Randy's metallic gray Mazda was parked right next to me. I shut my door and looked at my parents' house. I noticed chipped paint on the trim. That seemed unlike my father to leave it that way. Was he getting to the age of letting things go? I took a deep breath, and I pondered how many layers of hell into which I would descend once I entered the door.

"Happy birthday, Mom," I said, giving her a hug in my entrance. I scanned the room. My sister was on the couch. Her husband seemed to be in the backyard with my father.

"Are you hungry?" Mom offered. "We have croissant sandwiches and chips on the kitchen table. Help yourself."

It seemed odd to me that we weren't eating together. I guess since there was no set arrival time, people just ate as they arrived. The big meal was supposed to be dinner.

I placed my gift with a couple others and cards I saw deposited on the coffee table. I waved to my sister Judith. She waved back. We didn't say anything at that moment.

Judith and I were in a weird space. Since my coming out two years ago, she distanced herself from me in a big way. The Snow family was quite religious. In her mind, I had brought shame upon the family. For the most part, we were still civil to each other, but ... warm and fuzzy we weren't.

Mom followed me into the kitchen. I wasn't sure what there would be foodwise. I had scarfed down some fruit before leaving home. A simple sandwich and chips would be ideal. As I sat at the kitchen table, Mom sat with me. For the past two years, I had been on eggshells when visiting with family. Some moments were fine. When Corey was with me, things were great. I always attempted to keep topics neutral. I didn't need to steer into conversations that centered around politics, religion or current events. Sports were safe. Anything argumentative there seemed fair game in a playful spirit. Not that I was any type of expert but would watch a game from time to time. We had moved from Waco when I was young, so the family team would always be the Cowboys. Football season had ended again, and it was yet one more year we weren't in the Super Bowl.

Judith walked into the kitchen and topped off her iced tea.

"So, how is my nephew?"

"Corey's great. He's doing well in school. He likes most of his teachers. All but one. For some reason, the history teacher annoys him, but ... he's reading above level, good at math, so ..."

"He's got your father's smarts," Mom said.

"And my way with the teachers," I added.

"Your teachers always loved you," Mom smiled.

"As long as he doesn't have your eye for men," Judith muttered.

"Judith!" we both scolded.

"Okay, okay," she mumbled.

"Are you doing a garden again, Mom?" I asked, hoping the change of subject would lighten the room.

"Yes! I'm leaning toward geraniums, but your father always likes the ease of begonias."

"Can't you do both? Or some of one of them in the barrels in front of the porch?"

"I suppose. I haven't thought about those yet. I thought I'd wait until April until we are well beyond the chance of a late freeze."

Dad and my brother-in-law Wayne came back inside. I stood to give my father a one-armed hug as he entered the kitchen. Wayne and Judith's 9-year-old son, Thomas, came in shortly thereafter.

"How's Corey?" Wayne asked.

I again went through his school highlights and general well-being.

Thomas asked if Corey had come. I told him "no."

"Is he with Natalie this weekend? Or did he stay behind with Mitch," Wayne asked.

A hush came over the room.

"Um, Mitch and I split up in December. I thought everyone knew."

"I told him," Judith said, rolling her eyes. "He doesn't remember anything I tell him."

I found this annoying that he didn't feel it was important enough to remember and oddly relieved that my sister wasn't going on about it constantly. I could only envision her constantly swooping through the house like a Valkyrie championing my departure from the gay underworld.

"Oh." Wayne looked flustered, not knowing what to say.

"It's been a little tough," I offered. "Particularly for Corey. He and Mitch had grown close."

"Ah." Wayne's eyes darted around the ceiling searching for what to ask. "So. What ha..."

"Don't!" Judith cut in.

I let out an exhale. Life in the family household. It had been so different with Mitch's family. They were incredibly nice to me. I enjoyed it. It was easy. There was no constant barrage of affirmation of how good God was taking care of everyone or lifting conservative figures onto lofty pedestals. I was never tense at his family's gatherings. Not even the first time. They put me at ease immediately. My family had no inkling how exhausting it was just to be in their presence. It was like being a free-range chicken knowing wolves were on the outskirts of the farm just biding their time until nightfall. Being a free-range chicken was no fun.

"I bought a new piece of art for the living room," I said, figuring that was safe.

"Oh? You're on your own again. Was it that expensive?" Mom said.

I took a deep breath. "Nothing extravagant, Mother." She hated it when I called her that. She knew there was an implied tone behind it. She was always right too. "Finances are tighter again, yes, but I'm not completely penniless. It will take a few months to save up until I am feeling comfortable again."

I flipped through a selection of photos in my phone. "Here," I said, showing them the wall hanging.

"Nice," Judith said, without any major enthusiasm. Mom nodded.

"What's it supposed to be?" Dad asked.

"Art."

I needed to go to the bathroom and was grateful for any reason to leave the room. After flushing and washing my hands, I thought I heard the front door slam.

It was my younger brother Curtis and his wife Anita. I hadn't spoken with them since Christmas. At that time, I didn't tell the family about the breakup. I simply noted Mitch was with his family. Not that Mitch ever looked forward to coming with me. He was dutiful about it, but I could tell he bristled at much of the conversation. Curtis was no better than Judith regarding how I've handled my life, and Anita is a just a frosty bitch. Unless Corey is around. She has always been exceptionally nice to him. Regardless of what I think about her, I have always appreciated that.

Shortly after that, my Uncle Randy followed them in. Apparently, he had left for a walk just before I arrived. Uncle Randy gave me a firm handshake. "It's good to see you, Cooper."

I was always impressed by him. Uncle Randy was a minister. Of all the judge-y people in my family, he ironically was the least.

"How have you been doing?" he asked.

"Pretty well. Hanging in there. The last 25 minutes have been a barrel of fun."

He rolled his eyes and gave me a knowing smile.

Conversation among the family was pretty much on the surface. I didn't tread into any deep waters. I tried to steer things toward Mom. I let her talk about herself as much as I could.

Thomas went back outside with my father. They played catch.

"Do you ever talk to Natalie?" Anita asked.

"Umm. I guess she's fine. We see each other when we drop Corey off."

"Hm. Now that you've gotten this Mitch character out of your system, have you ever considered trying to win her back?"

A smoke alarm went off behind my eyeballs. The gall!

"No, Anita. I hadn't given that a second of thought." I started to walk to the kitchen. I stopped and turned to her. "I can't believe you even asked that. Why would you say such a thing?"

"I was just making a comment. The two of you were great at one time. It would just be nice for you to get back to that time. You know, even if it's for Corey's sake."

I hadn't had a drink in more than a year. I didn't want one. Except when I was with my family. I wanted the entire bottle of whiskey, no glass necessary. There's nothing like playing on my guilt on what Corey has been put through to compound those feelings.

I stepped out to the backyard to make small talk with my father and Thomas. I talked to Thomas about his classes. As an uncle, I genuinely wanted to appear interested. He said he liked art the best, but he had earned an award for reading enough books to reach the top level of some program I'm not sure I understood. He didn't explain it well, but he was proud, so that was the most important thing.

My father was one year from retiring. I asked him what he was looking forward to the most. He mentioned two places he'd like to take Mom, but mostly he was looking forward to simply enjoying coffee and newspaper during long, lazy mornings. I had helped him with his investments, so we talked about that for a bit. Our conversation did not break the rhythm of the baseball continuing to be thrown between baseball glove to baseball glove.

"Should we have Mom open gifts before dinner or after?"

"Either would be fine. We have cake following dinner, so gifts beforehand could work," Dad said.

I liked that idea. Someone opening gifts was safe. Nothing could be less confrontational than Mom being center stage.

It was to be an early dinner at 5:30. At about 4 we encouraged Mom to open her gifts. There weren't a lot. Something from each of us and a few cards from friends and family that had arrived in the mail the few days before.

Mom started with the cards. She would smile or say "aww" or chuckle. She passed them around and each one of us looked at them one at a time. We'd smile and nod like we knew who some of the people were, but basically, we glanced and moved on. One contained a gift card to a nail salon she liked to frequent.

Curtis and Anita's gift was first. It was a glass bowl created by an artisan from their trip to Taos. It was pretty, but to hear them tell it, it was created into being via a miracle by Jesus. But I did like the colors. I said that aloud to be polite.

She opened mine next. It was a framed picture of Corey and me. We had brought in a photographer to get an up-to-date picture of us in the park. Light snow had frosted the trees and the greenery in the area. We had coats on, but you could still see us — we weren't so bundled up that you couldn't make out who we were. It was a beautiful shot. And Corey keeps growing so fast.

Everyone commented on how big Corey is getting. Mom said she loved it and thanked me.

Judith looked to me and quietly but dismissively said, "Is that it?"

"It. Is," I said calmly, but slowly and pointedly.

Oh, it's nice," she said.

I smiled and contemplated smashing her face in the cake.

Judith and Wayne were next. Thomas handed Mom the gift. She kissed him on the cheek. She opened the small box and pulled out a velvet lined jewelry case. Opening the black container, she gasped as she saw two beautiful, jeweled earrings.

Seriously?

Mom held them up. She loved them and made sure the givers knew so. Everyone fawned over them, as did I, although my coos were borderline sarcastic. I just reminded myself Mom's happiness was the important thing here.

Uncle Randy's gift was next. It was big. When Mom tore away the paper, it was a multi-pane picture frame. The style of it was nice.

"I've filled it already, but of course, it's yours to do with as you please."

Mom slid the frame out. There were nine panes. Everyone in the room was in one. A larger opening was the center image, and Uncle Randy inserted a beautiful 8x10 of my parents. The others were 5x7. He was in one, Mom's parents were in one. Judith's family was in one. Curtis and Anita had one. There was a picture of Mom and Dad's wedding, the house we grew up in and the family dog when we were all young. The last frame had a photo of Natalie, Corey and me. It was four years old.

I exhaled. Fine. Whatever. My siblings glanced at me, but I didn't give them the satisfaction of looking thrown. I simply smiled.

"I like the style, Uncle Randy. Elegant but modern," I offered.

Dad was last. Mom started to open it when the phone rang. It was call from our grandparents. They were calling to send wishes to Mom. We put everything on hold and let them talk. At one point, Mom held up the phone so we could all call out greetings to them.

We got back to gifts. Dad's gift was a little tricky. I had helped him with it. It was an investment portfolio he had set up just in her name. She had complete control over it with no input from anyone else.

"If I am ever gone, I want you to have something all to yourself."

It was a big gift, but those of us in the room didn't know exactly how to regard it. It wasn't mushy or sentimental. It was practical, and at its very essence, very loving. We saw our parents kiss.

They stepped away to place it in whatever safe place they had within the house. I thought about Emory and what he said about his partner going quickly. I don't ever really think about my parents being gone. I don't think of 60s as being old. At all. But ... stranger things have happened, and Emory's partner had not reached 70 when he passed.

"I was at a coffeeshop called Joe this morning and ..."

"Isn't that like in ... that ... gay area of town?" Judith asked.

"Yes. It is. It's curious that you know of it. Anyway, I met this interesting person this morning."

"Oh lord. What is it now?" Judith muttered.

"Seriously, Judith, what the hell?"

We never cursed in our parents' house. Ever. It was just something my family never did.

"Oh, cussing now, too, I see."

"He was simply a man in a coffeeshop. You're deranged."

"Oh, I'm deranged? You're the one who got divorced, became an alcoholic and shacked up with another man. But, yeah, I'm the one who's out of line."

"I was simply going to mention a comment he made comparing losing someone quickly over it being a slow process."

"Well, that's cheery," Anita said.

"It was just conversation!!"

"Cooper," Uncle Randy said calmly. "Let's go for a walk."

Dear lord, what now? Was he saving me or was I getting a sermon on the walk? He tugged at my arm. The weather was warm enough that we didn't need jackets. In a mere moment, we were out the front door.

"Didn't you take a walk after lunch?" I asked him.

"This is for you, not for me."

I sighed.

"I know it's hard for you sometimes," he said. "I can see it. I know."

"They just have no idea, Uncle Randy. NO idea. Do you know how hard it is when you know your family looks down upon you just for ... being who you are? For being alive?"

"I'm sorry."

"I mean, they can say anything they want. `Oooo, this conservative broadcaster is sooo wonderful. The Democrats are just trying to change the country.' Perish forbid you make a comment in disagreement. That's just reason for outrage."

"Everyone is entitled to their own points of view."

"Apparently not me."

"That's not true."

"It is. Did you know that Mom has never used the words `I love you' to me in the two years since I've come out?"

"Oh, Cooper. I know your mother loves you."

"Maybe. When I say, `I love you, Mom,' she replies, `Um hm, me too.' But she tells Corey she loves him on every visit."

Uncle Randy put his hand on my shoulder.

"I love you, Cooper. Just as you are."

We didn't say anything for a few minutes. At one moment my eyes just got a little watery, but I blinked that away.

Uncle Randy started simple conversation. Spring. The bowling alley being remodeled. He was picking the Astros over the Rangers this year. Cocker spaniels. He tried sushi for the first time.

After 30 minutes we were back at the house. I took a deep breath.

"I don't know what even to say when I go in there."

"What do they all love?"

"Not me."

"That's not true, but think harder."

"What, Corey?"

"Yeah. Why don't you see if Corey can call `Grandma.'"

I called. Corey picked up. I explained that we were about to go in the house and if he would be willing to say Happy Birthday to Grandma. He wanted to.

"Hey, Mom, it's Corey."

She lit up. "Hey Corey Bug! How are you?"

The rest of the room could hear him say Happy Birthday and then sing it to her in like seven seconds. They talked for a few minutes. My siblings and their spouses wanted the phone to be passed around.

"Want to talk to Aunt Judy?" Mom said.

For the next 15 minutes, tensions were nonexistent. The phone call took us up to dinner. Mom took the last things out of the oven. Dad had brought salad and the side dishes already to the table. Once we all hung up with Corey, we gathered at the table. I made sure to tell him I loved him. He echoed it back.

"I can't believe you cooked on your own birthday," Curtis said.

"Oh pshh!" Mom said. "I love cooking for my family. When I'm too old to enjoy it, I'll let you know. Until then, indulge me. I'm just so happy my three children could be here."

I lived closest but didn't come often. Small wonder. My brother and sister were about an hour away, but Judy came way more than me, usually by herself. Mom only saw her parents once a year. They had retired back to Waco, and she'd make a summer trip. Occasionally one of us would go with her and Dad, but it was never a full-fledged family reunion. Perhaps we could do that on Mom's 65th.

After we had blown out the candles, sang and scarfed down cake that none of us needed but all ate, I ducked out first.

My goodbyes were quick. Uncle Randy followed me out the door. I gave him the biggest hug.

"I don't know why you are the nicest to me, Uncle Randy. It seems so ironic."

"I'm nice to everyone, Cooper. But I don't love everyone. I love you."

"I'm not sure why."

"Because I know who you are. I love your heart. I love how you are a wonderful father. I know the person inside."

I hugged him again. "I love you, too. Thank you." I gave him a kiss on the cheek and unlocked my car door. With a wave, I pulled away from the house.

When I was a block from the neighborhood, I let out a guttural scream. It was so loud I wondered if anyone in another car could hear it. Then I exhaled and my hands stopped trembling.

I couldn't wait to get as far away from my afternoon as I could. Alas it was too fast. As I entered back into the Jackson Bend city limits, I saw flashing lights in my rearview mirror.

Damn.

I pulled over and reached for my registration out of the glove compartment. I blustered out a huge mass of air as I waited for the officer to step to my window.

"Good evening. Where are you headed so quickly?"

"Actually, I've spent an afternoon with my family. I'm heading away from them quickly."

He chuckled slightly. I think I heard him softly say, "Been there." He looked at my registration sticker. I noticed he saw the Human Rights Campaign equality sticker that Mitch had placed on my windshield.

"License please?"

I handed it to the officer. He was a tall Black man. I thought he was quite handsome.

I had not had a ticket in about four or five years. I was hoping it wouldn't be too bad. A minute later he returned and handed me back my license.

"Where to now?"

"There's actually an AA meeting in 20 minutes at the city center. Frankly, I think it is exactly what I need."

"You have plenty of time to make it. Drive safely."

Wait. Was that it? No ticket? Just a warning?

"I'm ... okay to go?"

"Yes, sir. Be safe."

I looked at his name badge. Kenneth Parsons.

"Thank you, Officer Parsons. Thank you. You have a nice evening."

 

—

 

"Hi, I'm Cooper. I'm an alcoholic."

"Hi, Cooper," the group replied.

"Today was tough. I'm well beyond a year without a drink. That's good. I pride myself on not ever wanting alcohol. Well, except days like this. A day with my family makes me want to swim in it."

There were a couple of small chuckles and head nods. For some, it is too hard to chuckle; they just bow their heads and squint their eyes. As much as my family aggravates me, I know others have it far worse.

"You'd think after two years, they might come around. But no. I'm just destined to be the black sheep forever. And I'd be okay with that, except I feel so obligated to make appearances with my family. My old boyfriend's family was great. I miss them. I loved them. I loved him too." I sighed. "That's gone."

Ophelia was here tonight. Her eyes communicated volumes. She was strength and friendship and understanding.

"It's days like these that let me know I still need to be here on nights like these. Thanks for not letting me be alone.

"I met a new friend this morning. We talked. He mentioned his partner died so suddenly that he didn't get to say goodbye. He told me to make sure I tell people I love them every day. I said it to my son. He's my rock right now. But several of you have been with me on my walk through sobriety. I love you for that.

"That's all. Thank you."

The group clapped.

I helped put up chairs. Richard and Ophelia came up to me. They hugged me.

"I just want you both to know..." I started.

"We love you too," Ophelia said.

 

—

 

I pulled up to Natalie's house — our old house — to drop Corey off. It had been a great weekend. Corey had developed a "thing" for laser tag. He was all about it. Laser tag was a fun diversion we could do together — along with bowling at the same location — but after ducking behind apocalyptic wreckage and darting between walls whirling out of the way of opponents, I left exhausted. Bowling was more my speed. Still, it burned through cash rather quickly, but if there was something I'd love to see my money go toward, it was my son.

"How was the weekend?" Natalie asked Corey.

"Awesome! I totally trounced Dad in laser tag!"

"It was a beating," I confessed.

Natalie smiled.

"Full confession, we stayed up past midnight Saturday," I offered.

"You didn't let him watch SNL, did you?"

"No, no." I blew out a blustered breath. "I don't think I'd have the savvy to explain some of the jokes."

She nodded.

"We did watch a scary movie though. It wasn't too intense — remember the old Poltergeist? — so no blood and guts and murder and axes or anything. I think it did unnerve him a bit."

"I wasn't scared," Corey said carrying his bag inside.

I leaned over to Natalie. "He says that, but he slept in my bed. He hasn't done that in a couple of months."

"Swell," she said. "If he wakes up in the middle of the night screaming, I'm calling you to take the brunt of it."

I laughed. "Deal."

Corey came back out.

"Say goodbye to your dad."

"Bye, Dad. Love you."

"Love you too, buddy."

"And what else?" Natalie directed.

"Thanks for the laser tag and bowling and banana splits," he said.

"You're welcome."

"Banana splits?" Natalie said, raising an eyebrow.

"Um. Yeah." I looked at my son. "You weren't supposed to share that. It was our secret."

"And then I'm the bad parent who has to make sure he eats healthy the rest of the week." She stared back and forth between the two of us. "Great."

Corey laughed. I leaned down to give him a big hug. It was a huge squeeze. It hurt to leave him every time. "Love you," I whispered one more time.

I stood up. "I'll see you two in a couple of weeks," I said, reaching over to Natalie for a one-armed hug.

I hadn't done that before. We didn't hug. We didn't really touch. I could tell by the stiffness that it came as a surprise. I let go, but she gave me a smile.

It had been an awkward journey these past two years. I guess we've made progress — albeit an inch at a time.

 

—

 

I refused to corrupt my coffee in any way. I glared over the flavor pumps but resisted and took my black coffee toward a table near the windows. One was open. I was about to grab it when I saw Emory occupying a booth by himself.

"Emory, hello," I said, walking up to him. His face lit up when he saw me.

"Cooper! Nice to see you! Would you like to join me?" He closed his newspaper.

"That ... would be nice, actually. I'm not intruding? You were in the middle of an article."

"Pfff. Please. I have all day to read if I want. Please, sit."

I took the lid off my coffee. I saw a stir stick and an empty brown packet of Raw Sugar slightly littering the tabletop.

"How have you been since I saw you last?" I asked.

"I was going to ask the same thing. I've been fine, I guess. I took a serious look at my vacation time and sick leave this past week. I went to HR to see what I can get paid for and what I just forfeit when I retire in August."

"And?

"Let's say I am just going to `come down with something' once or twice this summer." Emory used air quotes when vocalizing "come down with something."

I gave a combination laugh and smile.

"How about you?"

"Corey and I had an awesome weekend. We are so good together. We both look forward to it."

"That's good. I'm sure there are a lot of dads out there that do it simply out of obligation."

"Oh, not us. We can't wait to see each other."

"That's fantastic. So, he doesn't harbor any resentment over the breakup then?"

"No. He was 11. I eased him into the whole gay thing, but ... he's such a mature kid. He accepted it, understood it, as best as someone in fifth grade can. I think if he had been in high school, it would have been harder. Kids that age can be harsh."

"Him toward you or kids toward him?"

"Oh. I don't know. Both, I guess. I think finding out your dad is gay has a sharp edge to it if you let it. High school kids are experimenting with sex — or some of them..."

"Or a lot of them."

"Ugh. I shudder to even think about that. But I think Corey — being younger — understood it more as who I am and not the explicit details of the sex involved. He did ask some questions a few months into the `change,' but they were appropriate for him at that age. But had this all played out in high school, I think he would have been more apt to being turned off toward me."

"So. What `experimenting' did you do in high school?" Emory inquired.

I laughed. "Not much."

Emory gave me a look indicating that he expected more than that.

"What?" I asked.

"Don't leave me hanging. What did you do?"

"Isn't that kind of personal?"

"Cooper. Cooper. If you want to get over Mitch ... or get back with Mitch, you should lighten up a hair. You say you don't fit into the gay world very well. Talking about what you did in high school is a pretty tame step."

I was not comfortable talking about sex. That was Mom and Dad coming through. We had very strict talks about sex. It's private. It's reserved for married couples. Avoid temptation. Remove yourself from conversations of others.

But Emory was right. Was I going to be timid into my 40s and 50s?

"Well, again, VERY religious upbringing. Sex was supposed to be for marriage."

"I understand," Emory said.

"We were on..."

"We?"

"Oh. It was my ... get this ... church group. Our youth group was headed to a weekend retreat with other churches in our area. It was taking place at Martin Jacobs University. We had speakers in the morning and afternoon, but planned activities over the weekend — campfires at the lake, swimming at the college pool, devotionals, softball tournaments, etc. Very social. It was about 2,000 kids probably. Not many could really afford hotels for a big youth group. Several church members in the area opened up their homes in hospitality and some slept in the gym in sleeping bags — boys, of course, heavily chaperoned.

"Henry Kammerdiener and I stayed at a house about ten minutes from campus. We were assigned to an elderly couple and ... you know, at the time, I thought of them as elderly, but they were probably younger than you."

"Thanks. Thanks a lot," Emory said with a leer.

I laughed.

"No! At the time — as a teen — I thought 40s was old. Ha. Anyway, they were probably close to 60. Their kids had graduated and moved on. Henry and I shared the guest room. They had a nice breakfast for us in the morning."

I sipped coffee.

"Aaaaaand...?"

"And ... we stayed up well past midnight just talking. I think we turned off the lights at 11 and talked about anything and everything in the darkness. We'd get the giggles and then push and shove each other in our laughter. At one point, our legs were touching. And we didn't move them."

"Um hm."

"Do you really want to hear all this?"

Emory answered with a nod and smile.

"So, we talked some more, but we were ... touching. Just lying there. Our legs touched. Our hips touched. We seemed comfortable with it. We talked and talked. Then he put his hand on my hip. I wasn't sure what it meant."

I paused. For an instant, I remembered that feeling, that touch. Just knowing Henry's hand was so close to my crotch — he was touching my underwear — I remembered getting hard as a rock.

"I think I kind of panicked. My heart was beating so fast. I wanted to touch him too, but I felt it wasn't right. I attempted to end it, but in the back of my mind I sooooo wanted to see where it went. I told him that we should probably try to get some sleep. We had to get up at 7."

"And did you? Go to sleep?"

"No. He pulled off his underwear and said `okay.' Then he moved back close to me. I knew he was naked. I turned on my side away from him."

I took sips of my coffee. I glanced out the window and paid attention to the few people around us.

Emory shot laser beams from his eyes waiting for me to finish.

"Aaaaaaand...?"

I took a deep breath before continuing.

"So. I faced away from him. He moved up behind me. I could ... tell. We must have stayed that way, motionless for about 30 minutes. It was after 1, and I was wide awake. I wasn't for sure if he was. Then he reached over and put his arm around me. I was paralyzed. He whispered at me to ask me if I was awake. I whispered that I was and ..."

I was so embarrassed to tell this story.

"And then one thing led to another, a touch here, a touch there and ... eventually we tried our hardest to make sure nothing showed on the sheets."

"You really zipped through the best part there, Coop."

"It's embarrassing. To be honest, Emory, I've never told anyone that. Ever. And until Mitch two years ago, that was the only sexual contact with a male I'd had."

"For 20 years?"

"Yep."

"What happened between you two after that night?"

"Ugh!! During one of the devotionals, the topic was on temptation and we both felt horrible. I prayed for forgiveness for days, weeks. The two of us never talked about it."

Penny was on shift today. She was friendly, but not the same as Brad. Her clothing wasn't quite as snug as his. She topped off my coffee. I asked Emory if he wanted to split a cinnamon roll. He said he would, and I flipped her a five.

"So, what about you? What high school stories do you have to tell?"

"Let's hold off on that until next time. Only so much in one day. We'll need the whole morning."

"Ooooo. Juicy," I said in a mock silly way.

Halfway through the cinnamon roll, I wondered what Emory might tell. "The whole morning." I was like any other kid from a religious family, slightly out of step with the world. However, I was REALLY out of step. I felt like I didn't belong to a single group. I had the visage of an outsider no matter who I tried to link up with. I belonged on the Island of Misfit Toys with Hermie and Rudolph and the train with square wheels. I could be the next Charlie in a Box.

"Thanks for making me open up, Emory. I don't often let people in."

"Open up??? Dude, you gave me no details whatsoever."

I blushed.

"Hey, that was pretty big for me," I chuckled.

"Well, thank you for confiding in me. I feel honored by your trust. Did you never tell that story to Mitch?"

"No one. Ever."

"Did you ever run into Henry later in your life?"

"Nope. When I really started questioning — struggling with — my sexuality, I Googled him on a lark. I figured I wouldn't find anything. Apparently, he is married to another man, and they have adopted a son and live in McNulty. He teaches Psychology at that very university we were at."

"Ugh. Married."

"Not the marrying type, Emory?"

"For a long time, it wasn't even an option for Gene and me. But once we could, we found it a lame construct that we didn't find necessary. I know our people fought hard for equality and all that, but ... eh. Why would we want to follow those hetero traditions? I find it all ... much to do over nothing."

Clearly, he and I differed on this. I was so envious of Lance and Jakob, as well as Mike and Trent. I completely envied them. They seemed gloriously happy. Had Mitch and I bought the house, I would have pursued the possibility.

"I will say," Emory continued, "had we actually been married, a few things would have been easier after Gene passed. I don't think that's reason enough to jump through those hoops, but there is something to be said for it."

"Not a romantic, huh?"

Emory seemed insulted by that remark.

"I don't know about that. Romance has nothing to do with marriage. Marriage is paperwork. Romance is love, passion, affection. Those have nothing to do with marriage."

I laughed at his sarcastic remark.

"Not my marriage at least."

"That's a shame," he said, turning somewhat serious.

"Oh, I'm being slightly sarcastic." I thought on those first years of marriage. "We started out well. I loved Natalie. Certainly differently than a heterosexual man would. I thought I certainly was straight at the time. I `decided' to be. I wasn't doing anything to veer from that mindset. Then."

"When did things start to materialize?"

"That my friend, is my tale for another morning."

"Perhaps we should set a date for this morning chat," Emory said.

"I'll be back in two Sundays."

"It's a date. What time should we set?"

"Coffee at 9?"

"Coffee at 9 it is."

 

* * * *