Page 69 of Everything We Thought Was True
“Woo! I love this. Beautiful. Dancing with my baby girl.” My dad grabbed me, and we started dancing as a couple, doing the moves of the Latin hustle that he’d taught me when I was a little girl. My body knew exactly what to do even though it hadn’t danced these steps in ages.
The song ended, and we stayed on the dance floor for the next. And the next. And the next. We took a break to get some drinks and then went back out. A man walked over to us, smiling, and whispered something to my dad. The music was too loud for me to hear what he said.
My dad motioned to me. “That’s my daughter.” He smiled proudly.
“Your daughter?” the guy asked, nodding approvingly. “Well, well. That’s cool.” He raised his drink, saluting me.
I waved, laughing.
A few other guys came over, probably friends with the first one. They were all chatting with the guy who had first approached us, smiling at my dad and me. Some were even waving and saying things like, “Aww, dad and daughter—that’s so sweet. Look at them. Damn, they can dance. Oh my God, I love this. How cool.”
My dad was in his element, dancing and enjoying himself. He looked so happy. And I realized it wasn’t only because he was in a gay club, where he could be himself. It was also because he was there with me. We’d never been dancing at a gay club before. My father was showing me who he was and wanted me to experience it with him.
I realized he was such a risk taker, a fact I hadn’t fully grasped when I was younger. His entire life was a risk. Yet he really didn’t seem to care what others thought of him. Or maybe it was more that hecouldn’tcare if he was to live the life he chose.
We said goodbye to the guys, who patted us on the back, wishing us well. As we walked back to the inn, the music and excitement of the club faded behind us, and we fell into a comfortable pace, leisurely strolling side by side. My dad hooked his arm with mine, and we walked in contented silence for a few city blocks. We approached Harvey Milk Plaza, with the Rainbow Flag bathed in moonlight. Milk was also a New Yorker and would have been about my father’s age had his life not been tragically cut short at the age of forty-eight.
I glanced at my dad and felt goose bumps spread across my skin.
He squeezed my arm. “I’m glad we’re here together, seeing this.”
“Me too,” I said, realizing how fortunate I was that my father was standing next to me, alive and healthy. He’d never been injured or killed in a police raid or gay-bashing incidentand had made it through the AIDS epidemic. Now he was about to marry his partner and declare his love for him publicly. What a journey. Tears welled in my eyes.
“Tell me your story,” I blurted. “I’m ready to hear it.Yourstory.” It felt like I’d longed to say this for years, even if I hadn’t been fully aware of it.
My dad raised his eyebrows. “What do you want to know?”
“Everything. When did you know? What was it like for you? Were you ever with a man before Mom? I’m ready to hear it all. To listen.”
I wanted to know his story completely. I now understood that fear of the unknown had led me to stifle my father’s voice.What if it’s worse than what I already know? What if there were other ways he betrayed Mom?I’d held back out of loyalty to her and an uneasy sense that by permitting him to talk about his indiscretions, I approved of them. Well, that was not how it worked. His perspective deserved my full attention, which had to be better than years of burying my curiosity and replacing it with circumspection and anger.
“Okay,” he said, “I will. Let’s go back to the inn and talk there, all right?”
I nodded, and we continued our trek back.
Once back in our suite, I poured us each a small glass of sherry and handed one to my father, along with some chocolates. He sat in one armchair, and I plopped down in the other, folding my legs under me.
I grinned. “I’ve never had sherry before.”
“Me neither,” he said, smiling.
“Really? Well, here’s to firsts.” I raised my glass.
He hesitated, his glass suspended in front of him, and then said, “Yes, to firsts. I’ll drink to that.” I knew he didn’t mean merely sherry.
My dad took a deep breath and looked like he was gathering himself. It felt like we were diving into the ocean, and once we broke the surface, there was no going back. He needed to be honest with me. I deserved it. So did he.
“I think I always knew deep down that I was gay.” He took a moment. “I’d never been with a man before I married your mother, although I wanted to once when I was a teenager. But I knew it wasn't an acceptable choice back then. My family was traditional, as you know.” He spoke calmly, but I sensed he was trying to contain a tide of emotions. “And Catholic, of course. The times were a lot less tolerant. Not that they’re perfect now, by any means.”
He took a sip of his sherry. I did the same and immediately felt a wave of warmth flow through my body. Damn, that stuff was potent. No wonder the glasses were so tiny.
“I didn’t come out to my parents until after your mom and I split up. My mother didn’t take it well. She acted like my life was over or she was being accused of having raised me wrong. So dramatic.” He rolled his eyes. “But my dad? He was amazing.” My father shook his head, an incredulous look on his face. “So supportive. Even put my mom in her place.” He laughed, and I smiled.
“And then there was your mom.” He sighed. “I don’t need to tell you how amazing she was through it all. You were there.” He breathed in deeply and then exhaled meditatively, like he was releasing the past. “When I met her, I thought everything would be okay. I hoped I could... I don’t know, pack it away. Bury it. Besides, I loved your mom and knew I wanted a family. I wanted children.”
I’d never heard my father say he wanted kids—that he’d intentionally chosen us. I wondered what his life might have looked like if he’d been born ten, twenty, or thirty years later.Would he have ever been with my mom at all?A tiny gasp escaped me as I realized the reality of that alternate universe—it would erase me. I trembled at the thought that I never would have beenborn.
“We dated and then married, and for a short while, we were happy.” He smiled warmly and closed his eyes. I imagined he was seeing the two of them back then. “We had Anthony and you, and we were a family. And I tried to convince myself that was enough.” He hesitated. “Then I realized I wasn’t really me—the real me underneath it all. And that’s when it all fell apart. But it’s also when it all came together, if that makes sense.”
