by Seth King
I take a shot of whiskey and hide behind my biggest Ray-Bans. God, sometimes I get so tired of this life. I am so tired…
Gay men cannot win for losing in this world. Society has evolved, but not as much as we want to think it has, and much less than it should be. I call them “the judging eyes,” the factors that rise against us and hold us back from living our full lives – the skepticism and the judgment gay people face every day, in ways big and small, in noticeable ways and in ways only we would ever know. These “judging eyes” hold us down and make us believe we don’t deserve to shine like other people do, and the effects can be lethal.
If you are deemed “too gay,” too loud or brash or feminine, you face the judging eyes. If you aren’t gay enough, if you are too discreet or too unassuming or perhaps closeted, other gay men will say we are hiding ourselves, and we will face the judging eyes. (Sometimes the biggest obstacles we face can come from our own communities.) If you are too open with what you are, too confident or too proud about something the world thinks you should conceal, you face the judging eyes. The simple act of existing in public can elicit attacks that you are shoving your truth in someone else’s face. (I am forty years old and have never walked down a sidewalk holding the hand of a man I loved.) So eventually gay men start defeating ourselves before the judging eyes can even find us. We lie to ourselves and tell ourselves we are not magic. We can’t win for losing, so we stay losing. We hide in plain sight.
But…I want to shine. I want to be magic. I want to be seen being exactly what I am, to show everyone behind me that they can do the same. In a world that does everything it can to keep you from getting to be yourself, walking down the street and owning every inch of yourself can transform the universe.
But I can’t do that. The person I want to be magic with – the world won’t let me be with him. The judging eyes are still holding me back…
And it doesn’t matter anymore. It’s all over.
I head outside. Everyone gathers on the upper platform, above the dock house, probably twenty feet above the water. I avoid every pair of eyes I see, but the energy doesn’t really seem too “off” or anything. Most people aren’t even paying attention to me. I don’t know who knows and who doesn’t, anyway.
When Eliot comes out, I feel all the blood drain from my face. We got so close, we were almost there…and God, he looks so beautiful in his crisp white shirt…more beautiful than I deserve, of course. I’ll go home and I’ll start over. I’ll just have to forget this, get beyond it. I never should’ve started in the first place, actually.
Soon everyone gets impatient. Mary Kate isn’t here yet – I guess she’s the last one. Finally Susan speaks up.
“Go,” Susan says to her husband. “Just go. Mary Kate knows we’re here. She knows she’s late. If she sees us starting, she’ll see us and-”
“No need,” a voice says, and everyone turns. It’s Mary Kate. There is makeup all over her face, and she looks absolutely wasted. Or just hungover, perhaps? Either way, I’m fucked. She’s here. I’m dead. She could arrest me, she could tell everyone in the world about this…
I glance away before we can make eye contact.
“Honey,” Susan says, walking over to her. “You look…you look awful. Let’s get you back to the house for a second and-”
“No,” my ex-wife says, standing taller. “I have to say something. I’m…I’m really fine. I swear. And I also have this speech that Mother wanted me to give, too.”
“Speech?” Susan asks, and Mary Kate reaches into her purse and holds up a tattered sheet of paper.
“Yes. Speech. Eulogy, really. She wrote it and sent it to me two months ago. She said to open it at the service.”
“What?” Susan asks her. “Why didn’t I get one?”
“Probably because you got the Cadillac SUV.”
“True,” Susan nods, giving up. “Okay, whatever, I guess we’re giving the stage to MK now. As if this wasn’t enough of a circus before…”
That’s when Mary Kate turns and looks directly at me. Oh, fuck.
Here we go…
Eliot Prince
After a quick flash of anger on her face, my mom clears her throat and looks down at the speech. Because everything is happening too quickly to process, I just focus on watching this unfold. I see a mental image of Grandma Sara with her pale grey eyes and curly white hair, and shed a tear. I can’t believe I let everything get this far, during what was supposed to be her special week. I’ll never forgive myself.
“To all my family members,” my mom reads as everyone listens with some mix of confusion and fascination. “Hello. I guess I’m dead, which is why you’re hearing my words in this letter. And sorry for choosing Mary Kate to read this, darling Susan, but you’ll have fun with the SUV. Remember, it needs premium fuel. But this task was always for Mary Kate…”
Susan smiles. My mom clears her throat.
“I write this letter in this dreary old folks’ home everyone sent me to after I fell down those steps, and let me tell you – with all this free time, the rest of my life is in stark relief now. And I’m starting to realize some things. I had a good life, don’t you forget it, but I also could’ve done so much more. I can see that so clearly now. I left so many roads untraveled, I left so many men unkissed – no offense to your grandfather. But there’s something I want everyone to know.”
My mom takes a breath.
“Whatever it is, start now. Whatever you’re waiting on, stop waiting. Do it now. One day you will turn around and be old as I am as I sit here, hunched over in this chair, too frail to walk to the damn refrigerator. You all think you have so much time, but you don’t. You don’t. So whatever you heart desires, go connect with it. Reach for it. Now. Before you become me. Above all, love those around you. Love is the thing that will be there when everything else falls away. Take it from someone who would know. Just love each other, kids.”
A tear tumbles down my cheek as I meet eyes with Robert. This message couldn’t be more perfect. Could it be possible that this message was meant for me, for us? No. That’s crazy, right? Grandma Sara knew I was gay; she’s probably just referring to that whole thing. But then again, why did she mysteriously invite Robert? Or am I just going crazy?
“Wait,” my mom says. “Hold on. I’m pausing the letter for a second. There’s something I have to say.”
“Yes?” Aunt Susan asks as everyone perks up even more. My mom looks at me and then tears her eyes away just as quickly. My stomach plummets, and I wrap my arms around myself.
“Something…has happened. There is a…a couple that came together this week, something that happened, and I’ve been crying all night about it...”
Everyone looks around, more confused than ever. (Except Susan and Gracie, of course, who are looking at everyone but Robert and me.) I want to fall down and die right here, but also, on some level this is a good thing – for whatever reason, my mom hasn’t been telling people yet.
“A visitor told me about this, a visitor who was…bent out of shape,” my mom says, and I shudder. It was David. That’s why he wouldn’t talk to me lately. He freaked out and told my mom, and now he knows he’s burned that bridge forever. Maybe he left the note, too. It could’ve easily been him, actually. That fucking twerp…
When I look back up I expect my mom to be fuming, but really she just looks…puzzled.
“At first I wanted to hit the roof, but it made perfect sense the more I thought about it,” she says soon. “He wanted a big drama situation, he wanted me to confront them – but then I started thinking. Yes, it’s weird. Yes, it’s…well, I don’t even have a word for it, really. But in the end, I knew it was all my fault.”
Suddenly I feel something unexpected – I feel pity. She looks directly look at me, and for a moment I can’t look away.
“This shattered something in me, honey,” she says, speaking just to me now. “I’ve made so many mistakes. When you needed me the most, I pulled away. It takes a strong pers
on to be there for someone else, and I’m not strong. I’m not strong. So what kind of hypocrite would I be if I tried to be the authority figure now, and started meddling at this point? I watched someone in my life suffer for two years because I wasn’t letting him be who he wanted to be.” She turns to everyone else. “I watched someone on this dock suffer for nineteen years because his soul couldn’t sing freely. And when he finally came out to me – not that this has anything to do with anyone in particular – I swore to myself that I would never, ever judge him for loving someone. How could I start now?”
“Mary Kate,” Uncle Ted says, “sorry, but what in the world are you talking about?”
Aunt Marjorie leans forward. “Is this about those damned notes I left?” she asks, and my stomach drops out.
“Wait, you left the note?”
“I found one, too!” someone says, and my insides lurch when I realize it was Robert.
“Wait, so did I!” Gracie says. “I had a Post-It on my door saying my halter top at dinner made me look like the Whore of Babylon, or something.”
“And my note said my new eye shadow palette from Anastasia Beverly Hills made me look like an old trollop!” Susan suddenly cries, dismayed. “I thought I was the only one!”
But Marjorie ignores the others. “Yes, I saw your little friend smoking the marijuana in the canoe,” she tells me, clearly scandalized. “And on the little sandy beach, too. I was so taken aback, I had to let him know I was watching. I won’t let anyone sully my vacation with any drug use, even if that vacation was for old Sara, who never met a vagabond she didn’t favor.”
The biggest relief of my life slides down my face. So I wasn’t being stalked by some creeper – my crazy aunt was just pissed because David smoked a bowl, as he probably did every single day he was here, because he’s an incurable stoner. Silly me! And she’s left people notes before, on previous vacations. Why didn’t I think of this sooner?
But at the same time, if she left it, why do I still feel so uneasy where David is concerned? Something still doesn’t feel right…
“Why are you talking to Eliot, though? Is this about the rainbow shirt I saw him wearing?” Marjorie asks, and my mom closes her eyes and struggles to contain herself. “I thought it was a very interesting choice to wear around children, and-”
“Shut the FUCK up, Marjorie,” my mom finally says, as Marjorie gasps at her. “Unless you want me to cart your old racist ass off to a rest home, you’ll never speak about my son that way again.”
First everyone is too stunned to respond. Then, quiet applause starts to roll around the dock. Marjorie has harassed us all for years, and I never thought anybody would speak up – I guess it just took a mental breakdown for my mom to finally snap back at her. Oh, well – worthy tradeoff, in my eyes.
“Anyway. I love you so much, Eliot.” My mom sniffles and then starts to cry, and because I can’t handle seeing people cry, I start to cry, too. “More than I love myself, really. You know, I’ll never forget when they gave you to me in the maternity suite, and you had that red hair…your father had something snide to say, but I burst into tears because you were just so perfect. Everything about you was. And you still are. And I’ve made so many mistakes…”
She trails off, then clears her throat, wipes her face, and starts again.
“Eliot. I know I’ve been distant. I know I shy away from difficult things. When you told me you were gay, I was scared shitless. That was my first instinct, to save you – I was terrified for you. You don’t know this, but after you told me, I walked into your bathroom and burst out sobbing. I can still smell that trash can you hadn’t taken out for weeks. But all your life, my job was to create a safe little place for you, a haven. And sometimes I was good at it. But that day, I knew there was nothing I could do to protect you, and it made me crazy. You didn’t belong to me anymore, you weren’t my little baby, and there was nothing I could do to rescue you from what was coming. The world can be so cruel. So cruel,” she repeats as she really falls apart. Susan moves to wrap her up, but she pushes her away and takes a breath.
“I’m fine, I really am. But Eliot, I want you to hear something. You are perfect to me. I never told you this – I kind of swept everything under the rug, because I was so scared for you. But you don’t need me, and that scares me even more. You grew up, Eliot…but I’ll be strong now. I’m so proud of who you are, of what you are, everything about you. Remember when you told me not to ask you to go shopping with you now, because you were still yourself, and being gay didn’t mean you had changed? I get that now. I get it. God, you drive yourself crazy trying to be the perfect parent, but somewhere along the way you realize you’re just as lost as your kids are…”
She waits a few moments. I am too overwhelmed to react or respond.
“But no more. Please listen to me, Eliot, when I say that you are still you to me. No matter what you do, no matter where you go, you will always be my little redheaded boy, the boy I sobbed for in that hospital room. Always, Eliot. You’re free now. And I’d rather let you fly than lose you again, like I’ve lost you the past few years. And it was all my fault. So, whatever is happening here, I am…okay with it. Or…I will become okay with it, after I burn an effigy of you two, first, and get out some emotions. But I can’t lose you in plain sight like I did before. It was so hard, every night was so hard…”
She takes a deep breath and steadies herself. Should I hug her? What should I do?
“Eliot, everyone knows you already came out to me. But this time, I am coming out to you. I accept you. Just as you are. I always did. I was just afraid to tell you. You will never do anything to make me un-love you. I’m so sorry I never told you before, I just didn’t know how to say it…anyway, your life isn’t mine to control anymore. It never was. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but as long as it’s kept far away from me…in the spirit of Grandma Sara, I give you permission. In secret. Just as long as I don’t have to hear about it. Ever. Or see it. Or think about it. Got it? But if it’ll make you happy, and contribute to the happiness I never gave you…go for it. I can’t watch you suffer anymore. I’m not okay with this, but I am okay with you.”
Oh, mom…
I rush over and hug her, and she cries into my shoulder for a minute.
“I’m so sorry,” she says. “I’m so sorry I walked away that day. I’m so sorry I never told you I approved of you. I just didn’t know how to talk about it…I still don’t…but I’m trying…”
“You’re okay,” I say. “It could’ve been so much worse. You were fine, Mom.”
“Fine isn’t good enough. I told you once that I would let you love whoever you wanted to love. I can’t stop that now. Sometimes I think…I think Robert was sent to me to teach me compassion, to open my heart. But maybe there was another reason…”
I don’t know what to say. Eventually she pushes me away, glancing over at Robert uneasily. She doesn’t look angry, just sort of…confused. But before I retreat, she leans into my ear. “I told you I’d accept you, and I meant it. As long as things aren’t around me, I would be a hypocrite to try to stop it. But you should’ve said something, Eliot. I feel so guilty that you feel like you can’t tell me things.”
“Mom! Clearly, this was…delicate…”
“Well you can tell me anything from now on. If I’m medicated enough, that is. I don’t know if it’s the wine, or the Xanax, or the tears, but…I’m not going to kill you. Just be discreet, for my sake. Got it?”
I shiver with gratitude. “Got it. And how did you know it was real?”
She exhales. “Because…well, I saw you, from out of my window, walking together. And I just…I knew, Eliot. I knew. I know you. And I know him. Now get away from me before I slap you down.”
“Okay. Oh, and I know about your divorce, and I forgive you for not telling me. I’ll explain later. Bye.”
I kiss her cheek and do as I was told.
“Now,” she says, wiping her face. “I hear we’ve got a Grandma
Sara to send off?”
Uncle Ted just stares at her from next to the urn. Finally he blinks. “Oh, uh, yes, let me get to that!”
I fade into the crowd as much as I can. This is so weird. At my grandmother’s memorial service, I am being given my mother’s blessing to date her ex-husband.
Before he begins, though, my mom takes a half-empty bottle of champagne from her purse and holds it up. “Now, after I get through this, I’m about to go home and get divorced from my third husband. Someone get me a glass, halle-fucking-lujah!”
~
The service is mercifully short. I cry again when they release her ashes into the wind, watching as her remains blow away in wispy clouds of grey. But the tears don’t go away. Something isn’t sitting right. I never want to see my mom like this again. And maybe I’m the one who always makes her like this.
The truth is that I’ve always felt a little guilty about being who I am. After you come out of the closet, it doesn’t get better – it just gets different. In some ways it gets worse. My sexuality drove a wedge between my mother and myself, it changed my whole life, it made things difficult for the people around me…shit, even my own family members make snide comments about me. It’s not lost on me that if I’d been born “normal,” just like everyone else, I’d probably married or engaged right now, with a partner who wouldn’t make my mother break down in tears, with a life that wasn’t complicated. Sometimes I really do think that if I could snap my fingers and become straight, make things become easier, I would. And seeing my mom’s tears – tears she was shedding all because of me – was like seeing my fears in real life.
I love Robert. But I’m not ready to deal with what that love would mean for my life. Things are already hard enough. I can’t go that far. I just can’t.
Robert appears after the service, all six feet two of him. He looks like the runner who just won the race, the robber who just found the code to the safe. But I can’t meet his eyes.