Page 30 of Everything We Thought Was True
I felt myself sigh along with him. I was relieved he wouldn’t do anything drastic and risk losing his job, but my heart hurt for him having to be silent about who he was. What a messed-up world we lived in that an employer could fire someone just because of who they loved or were attracted to.
“I think this will change someday. We’re just not there yet. There are still a lot of bigoted, close-minded people.”
“Fuck them! What I do is my business. I don’t tell them who to love!”
“I know,” I said. “I’m sorry.” I felt like the air had been let out of a balloon. “But it’s not that bad. Just don’t speak about your love life at work.”
Opposing forces were pulling at me. My dad was frustrated and had a right to be. But I felt old wounds coming to the surface. The secrecy of my childhood had left so many scars.
“I’m tired of hiding, Lena. Of feeling like some freak. I hate that these bastards force me to hide who I am, and the fact that if I’m honest about it—or God forbid, proud of it—I can be treated like shit at work, overlooked for promotion, or lose my job altogether. And that it would be hard to fight that legally.”
“I know, I do. You’re preaching to the choir about the law. It’s still nowhere near what it should be by now. But it’s the reality.” I heard someone talking in the background.
“Okay, I gotta go. I’ll talk to you in a few days, okay?”
“Okay, Dad. Talk to you later.”
“Love you.”
“Love you too.”
I remember hanging up after our call and feeling a cloud hovering over me. It was like my entire life was staring me in the face. Here was my father, asking me if he could be fired for being gay. And I not only had to answer that yes, maybe he could, but I also had to advise him to keep quiet. It was one thing to give legal advice to a client, prepare a case, argue it in court, and believe in it. Of course I felt invested in those cases. Of course I believed in what I was advocating and zealously represented my client. But I wasn’t myclient’s daughter.
I felt like a fake playing the part of the civil rights attorney by day then not just telling my dad to hide but hiding in that closet with him. There were only a handful of people in my life who knew I had a gay parent—some extended family members and no one at work. For someone open-minded who professed to be an advocate, I was damn good at hiding the truth. Maybe I was my father’s daughter after all.
The elevator chimed, and the elevator doors opened to the parking garage, bringing my attention back to the present. I climbed into my Fiat and turned on the radio. Frankie Valli crooned the opening line to “Can’t Take My Eyes off You,” one of my parents’ favorite songs when I was a kid. I could picture my dad singing it to my mom, the two of them laughing. And when the song would crescendo as it reached the chorus, they’d raise their hands and mimic playing the horns with their fingers while singing at the top of their lungs.
I sighed. They loved each other. It just hadn’t been enough.
Chapter Sixteen
FRANK - NEW ROCHELLE, NY
1976
Frank looked at Henry and breathed an exasperated sigh. They’d been over this many times before in their eight years together, disagreeing about their affair and about coming out. Their bickering sounded like a broken record. Frank could tell that Henry was more ready than he was, further along on the coming-out spectrum.
Henry tried to reason with Frank. “Not an easy boat we’re in, is it?” He wasn’t literally talking about his boat. “Always keeping our heads down, watching our backs, covering our tracks.”
Frank said nothing. He stared ahead at the whitecaps in the water across Long Island Sound.
“Why do people care? We just want to live our lives. It’s none of their business. We’re not hurting anyone,” Henry continued.
Frank turned and looked at him. He shook his head quickly in disbelief.
“What?” Henry asked.
“We are hurting people. Lots of people. Our wives, our children...”
Henry turned his head back toward the front of the boat, looking pensive. “Okay, okay. You’re right. I guess I meant... other people.”
“We’re not lying to other people,” Frank said.
“Yes, we are, Frank. We’re lying to everyone. Our families, our jobs, our friends... ourselves.”
Frank didn’t protest. Henry was right. They were lying to everyone. And Frank hated himself for it.
“I’m just saying that what a man does behind closed doors is his business,” Henry said. “Who he sleeps with, who he prefers. That’s his inner thoughts. No one else needs to know. It’s not a crime, for God’s sake.”
