Page 86 of Romance Languages

She fixed her coat, appalled that I was saying the quiet part aloud.

“I know you think I sound shallow, but this is how the world works, Julian. I have girlfriends with wonderful hearts and personalities that are perpetually single because men want someone hotter, younger,thinner. While I’m no expert, I’m fairly certain those rules apply in your world, too. Sweetheart, I want you to be healthy—”

“I am healthy. You can call my doctor if you want.”

“Fine. I want you to beslimmeronly so you can have more opportunities in the world, more confidence, so that people will treat you with respect. You’re almost thirty-five, and this is the first time I’ve heard of you dating someone seriously. All of a sudden, on the eve of a big party where our entire family will be present, you introduce us to your hunky, athletic boyfriend. I’m happy to play along with this charade if that’s what you want, but at some point, you’re going to have to face the truth.”

The only truth I needed to face was that my mother and I would never have a healthy relationship. She gave a voice to every negative thought in my head. A speech like this was bound to happen someday, her frustration and disgust for my life reaching a breaking point.

Well, I also had a breaking point.

“You got lucky too, Mom. You’re lucky that you found a man who’s been taking care of you your whole adult life, because God knows you’re too stupid to spend one minute on your own. You’re lucky that you have two kids who are ‘healthy.’” My air quotes were as sharp as daggers. “Who cares that your daughter had to be hospitalized with an eating disorder and your athletic son is so shallow that he cheated on the mother of his kids with his nineteen-year-old nanny? All that matters is that they’re thin. What a small life you live.”

Tears rained down my face.

“It kills you that I’m happy. How dare I be fat and walk down the street with a smile on my face. How dare an athletic guy find me sexy. How dare he want to be my boyfriend. That goes against your whole world order. What would you and your cheerleader friends have called me behind my back? My life may not look like yours, but it’s mine, and I love it, and that eats you up inside. Because your life is empty and meaningless.”

I yanked my car door open, shooting her one last final glare.

“I am lucky, Mom. I’m lucky that I’m nothing like you.”

24

SEAMUS

“Jules, there’s something I want to talk to you about. I was too scared to come out with it the other night, but I can’t sit on my feelings any longer. The thing is, when we started our sessions, I was straight. I really saw it as helping out a friend, because you deserved to have a good first time. But I like you, Jules. I really like you, as more than a friend. I think about you all the time. I guess this means I’m bi, which is cool. I don’t care what the label is, just as long as I get to be with you.”

I looked up at the two sets of eyes watching me from the couch. “How was that?”

Greg started a slow clap, just like in some sports movie. Ethan joined in as it got faster until it became a round of applause.

Was that the reaction I’d been hoping for?

“I’m proud of you, son,” Greg said.

Ethan squeezed his husband’s hand. “Our boy is growing up.”

“Guys, the dad/son stuff is still weird,” I said.

“I remember when he was just a little, lost frat boy scrubbing barf off the front steps. Excuse me.” Greg turned away and dabbed at his eyes.

“Have you ridden this joke until the wheels fell off yet, or did you need to circle the block a few more times?” I asked with my typical annoyance before curiosity got the better of me. “Was it good?”

“It was great,” Greg said.

“This is so wonderful. I was telling Greg how much I liked Julian.”

“This is weird, right?” I paced in the living room. “I was mostly straight in February, and now I’m totally gay in March?”

“That’s how these things happen sometimes,” Greg said, putting his arm around his husband. He and I had talked about it earlier today. He’d shared more of his process of coming out, which made me feel better, and saner. “It’s not a straight line, no pun intended. If you look back, there were probably moments growing up that you ignored or straight-up repressed. Again, no pun intended.”

“I remember the third baseman on my Little League team. I had this major urge to be his friend and go out for pizza together. I thought I just wanted us to be friends, but maybe…I had a crush on him?”

“Could be.” Greg scratched at his chin.

It was as if my life had a twist ending, and I was going back and sifting through the clues. There were no gay role models growing up, no gay uncles to light the way. Manhattan was a much different world than Staten Island. Until Greg, I thought that only guys in the arts could be gay.

“I’m…bisexual. I am a bisexual man. Okay.” I sank into the armchair opposite my friends.

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