Page 50 of Everything We Thought Was True
“Yup, that’s what we’re called,” Kate said, amused. “And by the look on your face, I can tell you hate the term.” She laughed good-naturedly. “I did, too, when I first heard it. But it’s what the community has chosen to call itself. Kids of LGBT parents are sort ofbetwixt and between, not quite members of the LGBTQ community and not quite typical kids with straight parents either. So they came up with a term that uniquely defines them and use it in an empowering way.”
“Huh,” I said, turning the phrase over in my mind. “I don’t see myself feeling comfortable using it. But good to know it exists so I’m not totally clueless.”
“Lena, you’re not clueless at all. You’ve lived this. You’re one of us.”
One of us.I felt a glow spread within me. I couldn’t help thinking Kevin might have been onto something this morning. Kate might just be my new best friend after all. And there were other Kates out there—an untapped community of us. A heaviness I didn’t know I’d been carrying slowly lifted. Holding onto my secret all these years had become a way of life. It was surreal to share with Kate so openly about things I typically deemed off-limits, too private. As if something was being released. If I’d had someone like her on my side to confide in years ago, maybe things would have been different.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
TERESA - JOHNSTON, NY
1983
Teresa took a sip of white wine and glanced at the suitcase on the floor, filled with Frank’s clothes. She sat in their bedroom, waiting for Frank to come home from work. A strange sense of calm came over her, and she didn’t know if she should attribute it to the wine, which she so rarely drank, or the fact that she was as ready as she’d ever be for this confrontation.
For three long days while she camped out at her cousin Ronnie’s house away from her home and family, Teresa had thought about what it would be like to be divorced and raising her children alone. She no longer had any immediate family to help—her parents were gone, her brother Sal lived far away, and her brother Marco could barely take care of himself. Sure, she had Ronnie, but she couldn’t expect her cousin to support her financially or take her and the kids in if she couldn’t make it on her own.
Teresa realized that between saving her marriage or saving her children, there was no competition. She would choose her kids without hesitation. She loved them more than anyone or anything in the world—more than life itself. And now she needed to protect them. They would be okay as long as she was with them. The three of them would survive this.
She heard Frank’s footsteps approaching, and in a moment, there he was, standing in the doorway. She watched Frank’s tears fall as he took in the scene and felt it all dissolving, his tears washing away everything in their life. Everything being diluted until nothing was left except a bare patch of dirt that used to be her marriage and her life. And she stood on it alone. Anger rose in her throat, anger that felt like a fire that just had oil poured on it. She wanted to slap him.
“You lied to me about everything!” she wailed.
“You’re right. I’ve wanted to tell you, but I couldn’t. I was so afraid. Because I’m...” Frank stopped, clamped his hand over his mouth, and shook his head like he couldn’t say it out loud.
“You’re a homosexual,” Teresa finished his sentence. “You have sex with men.”
Frank contorted his face as if he were in pain. But he looked up at Teresa and slowly nodded. He stood to reach for her, but Teresa put her hand out to stop him, to keep the distance between them, and walked to the door.
She turned around and looked at him. “Don’t. Not yet. I’m not ready. Leave me alone right now.”
He sat back down on the bed, crumpled, and put his hands in his lap, looking like he didn’t know what to do with them. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
Teresa closed the bedroom door behind her, went into the hall bathroom, and splashed water on her face. She then sat on the toilet with her head in her hands, inhaling deep breaths. She tried to reconcile her anger with her stubborn love for Frank, a love that still lingered. It wasn’t the same love that she’d always had for him. It had morphed into something different. Less of a romantic love, and more of a familial kind. It almost felt protective, similar to an emotion she would feel for another family member, like her brother or one of her children.
This isso goddamned confusing.
She shuddered as she realized she was worried about what would happen to Frank. The ugly words people would use to describe him—fag,fairy,homo. To have to keep a secret like that must be... lonely.
And now there was this epidemic going around, killing gay men.Will he be able to stay safe?No, she couldn’t go there. It was too much. She had so many questions she wanted to ask him, yet a big part of her didn’t want to know the answers.
Looking back, she realized there'd been signs during the early years of their marriage, and even before, that she might have seen if she’d known enough to look. Teresa examined Frank’s past behavior through a new lens—one with no filters blocking the truth. The way Frank had looked at anyone, man or woman, who was extremely attractive. The way he would hold his stare, following their body as they moved, appreciating their beauty as if it was a work of art that he couldn't take his eyes off of. She would often get jealous, thinking that he was leering at other women. Now she realized he didn't discriminate—his gaze would linger on other men as well. Maybe he’d done that with women as a way of overcompensating so he wouldn’t be outed. She thought about how he often wanted to go to Greenwich Village, a well-known gay enclave, and drive around, and about all the male “friends” he’d become extremely close to, sharing sideways glances with them like they were privy to an inside joke. She would have to recast all her memories.
The fact that Frank had been lying about who he was—unable, perhaps, even to be honest with himself—was deeply disturbing.What must his life have been like growing up? How did he feel all those years during our dating and marriage?
She left the bathroom and slowly opened their bedroom door. Frank was sitting on the edge of the bed where she’d left him.
“How long have you known that you... prefer men?”
“I don’t know. Maybe always?” Frank hesitated, looking at Teresa, but she nodded for him to go on. “Somewhere deep down, I think I always knew. I wasn’t sure. I thought maybe it was a phase or something that would go away in time. But it didn’t.”
“No, it certainly didn’t,” Teresa said.
Frank put his head down, looking as if he were trying to make himself disappear.
“Did you ever try to tell anyone?” Teresa asked.
“No, not really. My mother walked in once when I was studying with my friend Eddie from high school. We weren’t even doing anything. I was just standing near him and maybe had my arm on his shoulder. What I can remember is that I felt like I’d been caught doing something wrong, because I knew what I was thinking and feeling inside. And it was like that was being broadcast out loud.” Frank stopped and took a deep breath. “She looked so shocked and mad. She told him to go home and glared at me. I knew she disapproved. I hadn’t even really acted on it yet, but I realized it would be very wrong in her eyes to do that. So I kept it a secret, trying to bury it, willing it to go away.”
