Page 69 of The Photograph

How much do I want to tell my sister?

“Yeah, he’s a good person, Rach. I like him a lot.”

A heavy silence settles over the line.

“What is it?” I say as I’m passed by a man with a dog riding in front of him on his skateboard.

“It doesn’t bother you?” She sighs. “It’s an issue, Alex—all the fallout from something like this. Parts of the family won’t be happy with …”

“I don’t give a fuck if ‘parts of the family’ are unhappy.”

“God, Alex! All you think about is yourself. Never about how it affects the rest of us. Some people won’t talk to us anymore.”

“That’s their problem.”

“We’ve had so much support. Do you even think about that? The college funding, invites to summer homes, prospective partners.” Her voice catches. “I don’t know if that’ll continue if you keep on down this path.”

Down this path.And this is how it works, this pressure to conform. Like the drip, drip, drip of a broken tap. Don’t step out of line, don’t say anything controversial. Thismustbe about Levi’s family’s reaction. What can I say here? I can’t bend my life to fit hers.

“It’s not like I have a choice.”

“Well …”

Oh my God.“Don’t, sis. I’m gay, okay? I’m just not interested in women. Not that way.”

“Jesus, Alex. Why do you always choose the most difficult route?”

“Surely that would be to become a Buddhist?”

“Don’t joke about it,” she harrumphs. “Must be a youngest child thing.”

“God, you sound like Mom,” I growl.

A car blares its horn at me as I start out into the street. Christ. I’m going to kill myself before I even make it to work. Thank God I’m having this conversation on the sidewalk and not on the train. The idea of someone listening in …

“Anyway, I’m not sure you’d getanymoney if you come out as gay.”

Jesus. I’m going to ignore the prejudice in that statement because it’s not worth the argument. “There is no money, Rach.”

“Of course there is, Alex! At the very least Dad has some, and Nana …”

“Nana is going to leave whatever she hasn’t spent to a dog home.”

And how could I do this? Throw away my life,who I am, for some tiny inheritance my dad wants to dangle in front of us?

No, I’m not doing that. The boredom of my job is bad enough.

“Just think about someone else for once in your life, Alex,” she says and then she hangs up.

27

DES

I’ve heard stories about the buildings on the Upper East Side, but still it doesn’t quite prepare you. As Alex and I approach, a guy is standing by a beautiful wrought-iron door dressed in a perfectly pressed uniform and spotless white gloves. He nods his head and opens the door, and the brass surround glints in the sun like a mirror. An intricate floor of inlaid marble with some crisscrossing pattern of green and black runs across the lobby, and gorgeous brass trimmings and polished wood are everywhere—handrails, doorknobs—around the doors. A gold-and-ebony inlaid table sits along one wall under gilt-framed pictures with picture lights, and I raise my eyebrows at Alex as another man in gloves hurries out from behind a desk and escorts us to the elevator.

“I’m getting really nervous now,” I lean in to whisper, and he laughs at my expression and pats my arm.

“Don’t be. Nana is going to love you.”

---