Page 54 of Everything We Thought Was True
“Come on, Lena. I just ran—what, a half marathon?—for you. The least you could do is help me with this,” Kate said teasingly.
“A half marathon? That was barely a five K,” I replied, feeling lighter.
“I’ll tell you what. For now, agree to it only as a lawyer who works in this area. Don’t worry about the personal side, okay? The board would be thrilled to have a replacement who can cover an interesting topic related to this group.”
I shook my head, not committing but feeling my anger dissipate. I took in a huge breath of air and let it out slowly. “I’ll think about it.” I shrugged.
Kate pounced. “Thank you so much, Lena. Truly. I hope you agree to do it. If you do, I’ll support you in any way I can. Do an email introduction to the board members and help you outline your speech—whatever you need. And of course, I’ll introduce you at the event before you go on stage. And cheer you on from the front row.”
“Okay, okay,” I said, wanting this line of conversation to end.
“‘Okay,’ you’ll think about it, or ‘okay,’ you’ll do it and take me up on my offer to help?” She looked at me expectantly, a twinkle in her eye.
“The latter,” I said, annoyed but already forgiving her.
As I waved goodbye a little while later, I felt a strange mix of fear and excitement, like a train had just left the station and was careening down the tracks, full speed ahead, with me on board, regardless of whether I wanted to be.
“You’re perfect for that speech, Lena. I don’t think you have to prep for it.” Kevin and I were on our patio, eating breakfast the next morning, and I’d just finished rehashing the details of my conversation with Kate. “Just be yourself. How many people—let alone lawyers—have close personal experience with the topic the way you do? Kate chose you for a reason.”
I looked away.I know why she chose me.That’s what’s stressing me out.I thought of Kate’s words again.Your struggle with coming out.
“Plus, you hardly ever talk about that aspect of your family or your background in public,” Kevin continued. “Probably because many people wouldn’t get it. This group certainly will. You’ll be in good company, Lena. And I’ll come if you want me to be there.” He grabbed my hand and squeezed it.
“I’m not planning to share my personal story about my father. I made that clear to Kate. Just the legal stuff.”
Kevin pulled back, looking disappointed. “Well, I think you should reconsider. If there’s ever a group to share your story with, it’s this one, Lena. Give it some thought. I think it’s time.”
It’s time?My personal story didn’t come with a sell-by date. I knew I could speak to almost any group in my role as a discrimination lawyer. But to tell a bunch of strangers—even ones with something truly unusual in common with me—about my deepest, darkest family secret that I’d hardly shared with anyone? That seemed over the top. I never intended to become the spokesperson for children of gay parents.
“I don’t know. I’ll think about it,” I said, ready to stop talking about this.
I felt like I was in a trance. All I could focus on was the idea of standing in front of a large group of strangers in a very public setting, sharing something I typically kept private. In my mind’s eye, I was already up on that stage, staring at an audience of expectant faces—and itterrified me.
Then I thought of another expectant audience, albeit a much smaller one, and remembered something I had to do for my dad and Oliver’s wedding.
“Ugh,” I moaned.
“What?” Kevin asked. “Am I pushing too much?”
“No, it’s not that. I need to email the wedding officiant some details about my dad and Oliver. She wants me to share some tidbits about them so she can personalize the ceremony. I was supposed to do it earlier this week, but with everything going on with work lately, I forgot.”
“Do it tomorrow,” Kevin suggested.
“I could, but I’d rather just do it now and get it over with. Plus, you know me... I hate to be late for anything.”
“Okay. It shouldn’t take too long, right? Just send some fun anecdotes about them—how they met, what they like to do, stuff like that. I bet you’ll be surprised how easy it is once you sit down and put your mind to it.”
“Maybe I’ll look through some photos for inspiration. That’ll help me jot down some ideas for her.”
I went to our home office and fired up our sleeping iMac. I opened the Family folder in my digital photo library and looked through some pictures from the last few years of outings with my dad and Oliver. Boating adventures, check. Dinners at their favorite restaurants, check. Classic cars, check. Lots of beach shots, check. The opera, check.
As I scrolled through the photos, I saw some albums with the names of former family occasions and older dates. I opened a few, and a kaleidoscope of memories hit me—Mom at Shore Beach with toddler versions of me and Anthony playing in the sand. Mom and me at my sweet-sixteen party and then again at my law school graduation. They triggered a painful longing, a sense of sheer abandonmentI’d only felt two other times in my life—the first on the heels of the Great Spaghetti-and-Peas Incident.
As if that tragic incident weren’t bad enough, in the aftermath, my mother had walked out on us. That description of events was shocking to think of now because it made her seem like the one at fault, like she’d failed us by utterly deserting us. That couldn’t have been further from the truth.
Yet the fact remained that she’d left and not just for a few hours—for three long days. Dad told us we had to go to school and he had to go to work and Mom would come home when she was ready. I couldn’t focus on school. I felt as if my entire world were crumbling and I was looking at it through a strange murky lens. My mind kept drifting back to the scene in the dining room. I knew nothing would ever be the same again for our family. And I worried it was partly my fault.
After school on the second day, the phone rang, and I prayed it was her. I ran across the kitchen to pick up the receiver, petrified if I didn’t get to it quickly enough, it would stop ringing.
