by Hayes, Lane
“I’m—I’m going to use the bathroom.” I set my napkin next to my plate and pushed my chair back. “Is there one downstairs?”
“Yes. Just off the kitchen,” Lars answered.
I pointedly avoided all eye contact as I hurried inside. I had a bad feeling my face was flushed, which meant Dad would know something was wrong. Hell, they all probably knew. I couldn’t worry about it. I needed a few minutes alone to pull myself together.
The small bathroom was decorated like the living room and kitchen in shades of pale beige and white. A large window flooded the space with light and seemingly turned every shiny surface into a mirror. I couldn’t get away from myself. I used the toilet and was washing up when I heard a soft knock on the door. I dried my hands on the towel on the nearby hook before cracking it open.
“Oh. Hi, Dad. I’ll be out in a sec.”
He pushed the door ajar before I could close it again. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine,” I lied.
“Bad number two? If you want to use the upsta—”
“Oh, my God.” I blew out a rush of air and flung the door open wide. “I just had to pee, okay? Is a little privacy too much to ask?”
“Sorry. You were in there so long I thought maybe the cheese didn’t agree with you. Would you like an antacid?”
I shook my head and pushed by him. I made a wrong turn into the living room, adjusted course, and immediately ran into my father, who apparently wasn’t done talking about my digestive system.
“I have Tums or—”
“I’m fine!”
He looked taken aback by my vehemence. He pursed his lips tightly and then shook his head. “You aren’t fine,” he said in a sad voice.
I didn’t know if it was his tone or his worried expression, but as I stood in his new home surrounded by pictures of myself comingling with someone else’s furniture, I began to unravel. So much so, I wished I’d have claimed a phony stomachache to cover up the real ache in my heart or soul or wherever this hollow, horrible feeling originated.
“No. I’m not. I’m having a hard time with this and I’m so…sorry. I should go.”
“Josh, it’s okay.”
“It’s not okay. It’s horrible. I’m gay. I know what it’s like to have to explain my sexuality. I’ve been doing it for years. It’s scary as hell and it’s totally unfair. It’s no one’s business but mine. Why should I have to bare my soul every time someone tries to set me up with their daughter?”
“I thought you were bi,” he said casually.
“I haven’t slept with a woman since I was twenty, Dad. Maybe I’m bi. Maybe I’m not. I only know that explaining it exposes me. It makes me feel wary and distrustful and then I feel like shit because I’m letting down people who thought they knew me. Yeah, it’s gotten better, but it’s not easy. Never in a million years would I ever subject someone I love to this kind of…censure. I didn’t think I was like this. But I’m a complete dick because here I am thinking I’d give anything to make things go back to normal. To fix you and Mom and our family and…me.”
I swallowed around the lump in my throat and prayed the tears stinging my eyelids wouldn’t spill over. Then again, I was acting like a kid. Why not make the picture complete?
“Joshua, look at me.”
I wiped my nose on my sleeve and took a step backward. “I’m gonna go. I love you, Dad. I’ll work on this, I promise. But I obviously need to work on me ’cause I’m a crazy-ass mess.”
Dad gave a half laugh and moved toward me. “Josh, you’re here. That’s all I hoped for. Thirty-two years of thinking doesn’t change overnight. Maybe there’s no perfect response, but I think you’ve been wonderful. The only way to really process what you’re thinking is to talk about it. Tell me how you feel.”
I stared at him for a long moment before rubbing the back of my neck to give my hands something to do. “You really want to know how I feel?”
“I do.”
“O-kay.” I paced toward the photos on the mantle. I ignored the smiley one of Dad and Lars and picked up the one of my sisters and me circa 1995. “I can’t make these pieces fit. This is the life I know. I remember this day. We were at Grandma and Grandpa’s house. It was summer and everyone was there. Aunts, uncles, cousins…we’d just finished playing baseball. Our team won and you insisted on a victory photo. This photo. I look at this picture and I can smell that day. The barbeque, the grass, the strawberries Grandma put on top of the chocolate cake. I loved that day. I felt safe there. I knew my place and my only job was to have fun.”
I set the frame down and turned back to face my father. “I don’t know how I feel about seeing this here. This belongs to me. This is my memory. I was a kid, probably ten years old. Ten-year-olds don’t like to share and they don’t like change. That kid would have a hard time knowing his parents were going to announce they were getting divorced the weekend after he told them he was bi. So maybe it makes sense he’s having a hard time understanding why his dad couldn’t be honest twelve years ago and tell him that he was bi too.”
“I wasn’t ready,” he said simply.
I nodded. “I understand. The problem is…I’m struggling with the notion that the parents I thought I knew when I was a kid might not be who I thought they were.”
“Josh, I’m still the same guy I always was.”
“Maybe, except I didn’t know you were a gay man who married a woman. Did you ever love her?” I asked in a choked voice.
“Yes. I still do. Your mom and I got married young, had kids right away and then we drifted. It happens, buddy. You know that.”
“Yeah, but it’s not the whole truth!” I thundered.
It was hard to say who was more surprised by my second outburst. I wasn’t a yeller. When I got upset, I had a tendency to retreat and muddle through my anger alone. I had to calm down quickly. The last thing I wanted was an audience.
“What are you saying?”
“You knew you were gay. I get it. Times were different. You felt like you had to be someone you weren’t, but…what I don’t get is why you couldn’t tell me sooner. I’ve spent twelve years thinking I was somehow responsible for you and Mom getting divorced. No, you didn’t blame me. But come on, the timing was unbelievable. One minute we were that”—I pointed frantically toward the family photo, aware that my hands were shaking—“and the next, we were gone. Now this photo shows up in another man’s house and I…I don’t know where I fit.”
Silence.
“Joshua, you’re my son. You’ll always come first and—”
“No. That’s not what I mean. I like Lars and I meant what I said. I want you to be happy. Maybe this is just me trying to figure out how to be a grown-up.”
My father nodded thoughtfully. “It may not seem like it, but we’re in this together. Change isn’t comfortable. Geez, I’m in the process of throwing away twelve years of junk from my old place to make room for myself here. I have no idea how to work the coffeemaker and the damn remote control has more buttons than a spacecraft. I’m older now. Complete and utter honesty is a new concept for me. I’m not as brave as you, Josh. I’m a deeply flawed product of my time, my upbringing, my religion, my neurosis. You name it, I’ve got an issue for it.” He paused to smile but the wan gesture went nowhere near his eyes. “I don’t like change either, but the thing is…I love Lars and I want to get this right. I’ve made mistakes. I’ve been weak when I should have been strong. I gave in when I should have stood proud. I bet you didn’t realize this, but…you’ve been an inspiration to me.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you. You live an authentic life. No shame and no regret. I’m proud of you, Josh. In many ways, you’re a better man than I’ll ever be.”
“Dad—”
“It’s true. And you should know this is one of those funny times in life where the guy who’s supposed to be the seasoned veteran is looking at his apprentice for guidance.”
“Please don’t ask me any sex questions. I�
��m begging you.” I wasn’t joking in the slightest but I kept my tone light, knowing this was a good place to leave my angst.
My dad snickered appreciatively. “I won’t. I promise.”
“Is everything all right?” Lars asked.
My gaze darted toward the entry to the kitchen where he and Finn stood.
“Yes. We’re good. Josh just noticed one of the old family photos you framed for me,” Dad replied with a lopsided smile.
“You framed these?” I furrowed my brow as I turned toward Lars.
“Yeah. Your dad had a box filled with memorabilia and…since this is his home now too, it’s important that it’s filled with reminders of the people he loves the most.”
“Thank you. That was thoughtful of you,” I said.
Lars nodded in acknowledgment then went to Dad’s side and put his arm around his waist. It wasn’t overly demonstrative but it was sweet and it got the message across. They were a team now. I couldn’t decide if the kid in me was jealous someone else had my father’s attention or if my adult self yearned for something like that too. All I knew was, I still had some growing up to do.
It wasn’t until Finn and I reached the sidewalk that I finally felt like I could breathe again. I sucked in a deep gulp of air as we rounded the corner then gave him a sideways glance, hoping to gauge his mood without engaging in conversation. I was out of words. I didn’t want to rehash brunch or talk about my feelings. Now, I craved solitude. I couldn’t wait to be alone to lick my wounds. After Finn made his escape, I’d pick a museum to get lost in for a while and take a desperately needed break from…everything.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it? I told you Lars was a nice man. They seem happy.”
So much for silence. I heaved a sigh and shrugged. “Yeah. It was cool. Thanks for coming with me.”
Finn stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and yanked my hand, jerking me back a step. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. It went well. They’re happy like you said. And I’m happy too.” I flashed a toothy smile as proof of my emotional state, but he didn’t look convinced.
“Your happy face is a bit weak.”
“I’ll work on it.”
We continued down the street preoccupied with our own thoughts. Or maybe Finn was taking in the rainbow ambience in the Castro while I did my best to stay in the moment and not analyze my conversation with my father and what the changes in his life meant for us as father and son. The mature part of me insisted it was ridiculous to think anything had to change, but I was still a huge fan of Saturday morning cartoons and giant bowls of cereal, so I wasn’t sure I qualified. But I couldn’t focus on Finn and hope for clarity either.
I liked him too much. If I was the completely honest happy homo my dad thought I was, I’d admit I didn’t want to be Finn’s friend. I wanted more than he could give me, which meant it was time to say good-bye for good.
“This is me.” Finn gestured at the sleek Porsche roadster convertible parked on my street.
“Wow. Nice wheels.”
“Nice and happy?”
“Huh?”
“Nothing. I was tying the ‘nice and happy’ theme here but…” He grimaced in chagrin and stuffed his hands in his back pockets. “Never mind.”
My lips twitched with what felt like my first honest-to-God smile all day. Finn was charming for sure. I’d witnessed him use his looks, brains, and even his accent to gently coerce people into doing what he wanted. Whether it was faster service at a bar or getting me out of my clothes, he had a knack for knowing what to say and what tone of voice worked best for his purpose. Maybe that was why the uncharacteristically lame attempt at humor resonated. It was…cute. Which was funny ’cause Finn was hot, sexy, handsome, and ruggedly masculine. Not cute.
“Mmm.” I turned to the car for inspiration. I was shamelessly stalling, but I couldn’t help it. “I don’t mind public transportation but every once in a while, I wish I could just…go.”
“Anywhere in particular?”
“Nope.”
“What are you doing now? Want to go for a drive?” he asked with a lopsided smile.
“Now?”
“Sure. We can put the top down, turn on some music and just…go.” When I hesitated, Finn cupped my chin and rubbed his thumb over my bottom lip. “We’re friends, Josh. And you look like you could use the company. Stop thinking and say yes.”
“Yes.”
* * *
We drove north over the Golden Gate Bridge toward Marin County. I craned my neck to the right to soak in the incredible view of San Francisco on a glorious spring day. The colors were brilliant, from the magnificent red bridge to the turbulent blue water below and the rolling green hills in the distance. There were a ton of sailboats in the Bay. I wondered idly if Zane and Eric were out there. It was a perfect day to drift aimlessly.
“Are you cold?” Finn asked.
I’d gone back into the house to grab a couple of sweaters before we headed out and Finn claimed to have a wool blanket in the car as well, so I figured the question was rhetorical.
“No, this is refreshing.”
He grinned in response and cranked the radio a little louder. I hummed along to the old Maroon 5 song and when Finn sang the chorus to “Makes Me Wonder,” I joined in, feeling increasingly lighthearted the further we drove outside the city. By the time he veered west to follow Highway 1, I felt like myself again. The real me who didn’t let bad juju stick to him for long.
My last jaunt to Muir Woods had been in a friend’s Volkswagen van. It was a treacherous drive in a slower, top heavy vehicle but the steep, winding road didn’t pose a challenge for the Porsche. Finn leaned into the curves with both hands wrapped around the leather steering wheel. I caught myself staring when the sun glinted off his sunglasses, giving his light brown hair golden highlights. It wreathed him in a celestial aura that made him look godlike. Special. But then he’d flash me a devilish, disarming grin that made my dick twitch and my heart sputter, reminding me this guy was no choirboy.
I gasped with delight when the ocean came into view again. The higher elevation offered breathtaking panoramic vistas on a clear day. It was a bird’s eye view with perspective. I was a tiny human, a speck of dust in the grander scheme of things, and my problems were temporary. This was forever. As Van Morrison sang about the mystic, a peaceful feeling came over me.
“Thank you.”
Finn gave me a sideways glance and smiled. “Anytime. Want to keep driving or shall we stop here?”
“I’ll leave it up to you,” I said.
He nodded then turned at the next exit and parked his car in a half-full lot.
“Neither of us is dressed for a big hike, but we can follow the trail to my favorite rock.”
I shot him a sardonic look before lifting my face to the sun. “Favorite rock? What is that—like a pet rock? Did you name it?”
“No, but that’s not a bad idea. Every good thinking spot should have a name,” he replied as he grabbed a blanket from the trunk and then slammed it shut. “This way.”
We weren’t the only ones who’d decided to take advantage of the beautiful day. However, it was still off-season in early April so the trail winding along the cliffside wasn’t overly crowded. Finn pointed out a flock of pelicans cresting the water far below and gave an occasional commentary about the birds and wildlife in the area. This hint at a different side of him was strangely sweet. I liked his awestruck enthusiasm. It made me think we might have been friends if we’d known each other as kids.
“My dad used to take my friends and me hiking and camping all the time. Of course, we’d considered ourselves world explorers. We would never have stuck to any man-made trail back then.”
“We won’t either.” Finn pronounced mischievously.
“Don’t do anything crazy. I can’t afford a ticket if some wily ranger catches us off-trail.”
I bumped into his shoulder when he stopped in the middle of the pathway.
“
Live a little, Joshy,” he said with a wink.
When we rounded the next bend, Finn made a production of checking both ways before squeezing between the wooden fence posts along the path. I looked down at my new white Adidas and shrugged before following him through the steeper incline. We skirted overgrown brush and barely managed to avoid sliding downhill before we reached a giant rock at the edge of the precipice. There was stable rock bed on the other side, but the way the boulder was positioned made it appear as though it was sitting precariously on a ledge over the ocean.
“Be careful. Do you need a hand?”
“No, I’m an expert rock climber,” I bragged, slipping my foot into one of the grooves and hiking up to join him at the flattest part of the boulder.
Finn spread the plaid wool blanket down and then motioned for me to sit next to him. We let the seagulls and the wind take over for a while, lulling us with plaintive cries and a gentle breeze.
“Isn’t this incredible?” Finn asked reverently.
“It is. Do you come here often?”
Finn chuckled at my corny delivery. His pensive expression gave way to a bright smile.
“Not often enough. I found this rock when I was hiking with a friend years ago. We would smuggle contraband beers and chips and watch the sunset. It seemed easier to find spare time in my mid-twenties but not anymore. Life gets complicated.”
“True. Maybe if you named it, you’d come more often because you’d feel a personal connection you overlooked when it was just a rock on a hillside.”
“Okay. Let’s try it. Give me some suggestions.”
“Rocky Rockford, Gary Granite, Barry the Boulder…”