Page 57 of Everything We Thought Was True
She looked up at the clock. The kids would be home soon from after-school activities. “Frank, I have to go. I promiseI’ll talk to the kids about this weekend on the boat, okay? And let’s talk again in a few days after I’ve had a chance to go through more of the bills and discuss finances.”
“Okay. Thanks, Teresa. I’ll talk to you soon.”
She hung up, closed her eyes, and rubbed her temples. A few minutes later, she heard a noise on the back steps and then Anthony saying, “Bye, Mrs. Knight.”
The kids were being dropped off by a neighborhood friend’s mother.
“What’s for dinner?” Anthony asked as he burst through the back door. He was all sweaty, Teresa noticed, remembering that he’d had lacrosse practice after school. He would be hungry. Starving. And although she usually loved cooking, she just didn’t have the motivation for it these days like she used to. They were only missing one person at the table, the one who’d hardly ever been home for dinner anyway when he’d lived with them. Yet Teresa felt Frank’s absence palpably, like the table had shrunk since he left.
She sighed and turned to Anthony. “Shit on a shingle is what’s for dinner.” The words were out of her mouth before she even knew she’d said them.
“Gross,” Lena said, walking into the kitchen, crinkling her nose as if she actually smelled feces. “Mom! What in the world?” Lena looked at Teresa with a mixture of disgust and amusement.
Anthony laughed and shrugged. “Sounds good to me.”
“Of course you would think it sounds good. You’re disgusting!” Lena hit him on the arm playfully.
“Well, if you prefer, we can have marinated moose cock. That’s a specialty of the house.”
They both stared at her wide-eyed. Anthony exclaimed, “Wow, Mom, listen to you. What a mouth!”
Teresa was tired of holding back her thoughts. Her mother’s death and Frank leaving had killed her inner censor. And she wasn’tapologizing for it. She knew it was inappropriate to talk like this in front of her kids—to her kids, actually. But she didn’t care. She was sick of being the well-behaved parent, always playing it safe. If she wanted to curse, she would.
“I don’t know what that tastes like, but it sounds good to me.” Lena giggled, and Teresa could tell she was playing along.
“You’re cool, Mom,” Anthony said, wrapping his arms around her and giving her a hug.
She was so relieved that he’d seemed less angry with her the last few weeks.
“Yes, I suppose I am,” she said, squeezing him and smiling.
She then walked over to the refrigerator to see what she could throw together for dinner as Lena opened the cabinet to set the table. Teresa realized with a sense of pleasure that she was happy to cook dinner for just the three of them. She needed to get used to it. Shewasused to it. It had always been the three of them over the years. Now it was just more official.The three musketeers.
Chapter Thirty-One
FRANK - PELHAM, NY
1984
Frank looked out the window again to see if Teresa had pulled up with the kids. Anthony and Lena were visiting him and Ricky in their new apartment this weekend for the first time. Teresa had offered to drop them off, which surprised Frank, but he didn’t question it. Maybe she wanted to see where he lived to make sure it was a safe neighborhood. Or maybe she was genuinely worried about this next step for the kids and thought her driving them would make them less anxious. Frank had agreed to drive them home on Sunday. He checked his watch. They’d arrive any minute.
He turned to look at Ricky in the kitchen, dressed to the nines in all black, fussing over everything. Frank wasn’t the only one who was a bundle of nerves. Ricky had cooked up a storm and baked a delicious dessert called tembleque, a Puerto Rican pudding with coconut milk he hoped the kids would love. He put fresh sheets on the bed in the guest room for Lena and laid out ones next to the couch for Anthony. Frank watched Ricky primp and prep and knew he would continue doing so until the kids walked through the door.
“Relax. Everything will be fine,” he said, unsure whether he was trying to convince Ricky or himself.
“I know, I know. I just want it to be perfect,” Ricky said, flashing a megawatt smile.
Frank and Ricky kept a low profile, going to places where no one would be likely to recognize them and only hanging out with gay friends in private or at gay clubs. This was the first time Frank was intentionally permitting his two worlds to collide. When Frank and Teresa first separated, he’d moved into a tiny basement apartment in the Bronx—alone. It wasn’t his first-choice location, but it was affordable. Plus, the landlord didn’t live on the premises, which meant fewer questions about Frank’s most frequent visitor, Ricky. Frank didn’t want to live with Ricky initially, but as time passed, he decided it was time for him and Ricky to move in together, so they searched for a place less cramped and depressing. They found a garden apartment in the town of Pelham, with its own private entrance in the back, and Frank was relieved that it didn’t come with nosy neighbors. Eventually, he’d gotten up the nerve to ask Teresa if the kids could come visit him and Ricky for the weekend, and she’d consented.
“Hey, remember, this isn’t my coming-out party. We still need to stay below the radar. I promised Teresa I wouldn’t make the kids feel uncomfortable. I’ll be introducing you as my friend, and there’ll be no public displays of affection.”
Ricky nodded, agreeing to adhere to this list of rules that forced them to live double lives. Frank might have come out when he left home, but it was only a soft outing.
Frank saw Teresa’s car pull up and opened the front door. The kids jumped out and grabbed their bags.
Teresa lowered her window and called, “Have a good time, you guys.”
He waved to her, feeling awkward, like he’d never waved at someone before. His hands were sweaty and felt heavy. She waved back and pulled away from the curb. He watched her go and felt a moment of melancholy, as if he’d forgotten the words toa favorite song.
