Page 49 of Everything We Thought Was True
She widened her eyes and said quietly, “Me? It’s you. Stop making me laugh.”
I smiled and went back to trying to do whatever the hell that deep-breathing technique was called. Man, I missed running.
When class ended, we freshened up and headed to the café, where we ate scones, sipped cappuccinos, and shared tales of our legal careers, trying to one-up each other with who had the better war story. She was as intrigued by my legal career as I was by hers. And we could have gone on like that for hours, I suspected.
But what I really wanted to talk about was our family backgrounds—specifically, my gay father and her lesbian mother. My heart fluttered. I broached the subject gingerly. “So, I was thinking about our upbringing and how amazing it is that we have something so unusual in common. I’d love to know more about your experience with it all.”
Kate smiled. “I was wondering when you’d get around to asking about that.”
“Am I that obvious?” I asked, feeling exposed.
“Not at all. I figured we’d talk about it. I just didn’t want to push after seeing how hard it was for you to talk about it when we met.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that. But I’m actually curious. I find myself thinking of so many questions to ask you, but I don’t want to annoy you. I mean, you’re not some specimen to dissect. I just don’t really have anyone else with firsthand knowledge to talk to about it with, except my brother.”
She nodded. “I would love to tell you about my experience and ask you more about yours, if you’re open to it, of course. And I can share more about other people who have LGBTQ parents too. Remember, I’m involved with that nonprofit group I told you about. They’re called COLAGE—Children of Lesbians and Gays Everywhere.”
“Wow, how is it I’ve never even heard of them and I work in the discrimination field?” I felt kind of stupid for admitting that.
“I don’t think it’s strange you haven’t heard of them until now. They’re not humongous, and unless someone tells you about them or you do an online search using those types of keywords, I don’t think they’d come across your radar. They’re not a legal-advocacy group technically. More of a support organization.”
“Got it. Well, I’d like to know more about them for sure. Kind of fascinating that there’s an entire group of people... like us. But I’d like to start by talking about our own backgrounds first. Is that okay?”
“Absolutely. Ask me anything. Seriously. I think it’ll be good for both of us.”
Kate was being kind. It was blatantly obvious that she was way further along in her journey of being the daughter of an LGBTQ parent than I was. Heck, if I were being honest, I wasn’t even sure I’d taken the first sure steps. If this were the infamous Yellow Brick Road, she was in Oz and I was still dealing with the aftershock of the initial tornado.
“How about anothercappuccino?” I asked. “On me. I have a feeling this could take a while.”
“You got it. Order away, and then fire away. Let’s do this.”
I got us two more cappuccinos and brought them back to the table. Fortified with more caffeine, I swallowed, took a deep breath, and dove in. “Did your mother know before or after she married your father?”
“Oh, she knew,” Kate said. “She hid it when she married my father. Besides, she really wanted kids, and let’s face it, that was the safest and surest way to do that back then. When she told my father she was leaving him for Marie, he was devastated—embarrassed, humiliated, and a little depressed. But eventually... he bounced back. He remarried a few years later, and I have a wonderful stepmother and two stepbrothers. Funny, now I have three moms.” She laughed. “What about your parents?”
“My father grew up Catholic, and you know what that means. It was off-limits.” I thought about my next statement before voicing it. “I think he also really loved my mother.”
Kate nodded. “I think my mother loved my father, too, and I’m sure that made it harder to leave, besides what an enormous risk it was for her to come out.”
I sighed and took a sip to wet my dry mouth and stall for a moment. “My mom said she knew about my dad for years. She denied it, hid it, then finally decided she deserved better—to be with someone who wanted to be with her unconditionally and faithfully. I think she also wanted my father to be able to fully be himself.”
“What a gift she gave both of them. She sounds very brave.”
I nodded, and my eyes filled with tears, but I held them back. “Yes,” I whispered. “A gift he may not have deserved as he cheated on her so many times.”
“I understand,” Kate said. “It’s hard to forget the pain of that betrayal, no matter how much you wantto. It’s even harder when it’s wrapped up in someone’s closeted sexual identity. You don’t want to blame them for trying to be who they really are, but you also don’t want to excuse harmful behavior. There’s so much to untangle and process.”
I stared at her, a bit in awe of how she was giving voice to thoughts that had plagued me over the years. My God, did she get it. It felt like she was peering inside my head.
“When did you know?” I asked. That was the most pressing question on my mind, probably because I’d known for so long and hidden it.
“I didn’t know until my mother made her big announcement when I was sixteen. Maybe I should have seen breadcrumbs or clues, but I didn’t until after the fact. What about you?”
“I knew from a very young age. Nine, if you can believe it. But I didn’t tell anyone for years. I was confused and didn’t want it to be true. I finally told my mom what I suspected when I was thirteen. A few days later, she kicked my dad out. I somewhat blamed myself for their breakup, although my mom told me she’d caught my dad having yet another affair with a man a few weeks before. She swore my revelation was merely the last straw and not the main reason for her decision.” My voice quivered, and I took another sip of coffee. “Wow, I’ve never told anyone all of that except Kevin.”
Kate leaned across the table and squeezed my hand, smiling supportively. “Thanks for confiding in me. It’s not easy being queer spawn.”
“Queer spawn?” I repeated with a note of distaste. I didn’t like the sound of that phrase. It reminded me ofdevil’s spawn—not a good association.
