“I see.”
“I’m serious,” I said with a laugh. “I like him. I want to see him again. Doesn’t mean we’re getting married.”
He took a deep breath and sat back in the chair, eyeing me hard. He’d put his serious face on. I’d seen it a few times before, mostly aimed at Bev. “When we’re young, few things matter besides sex—”
“What? You’re giving me the birds and the bees now? You’re about twenty-five years too late.” A rush of heat flooded me, and I covered my face with my hand. Did I just admit to my father that I’d lost my virginity at fifteen?
“Listen to what I have to say,” Dad said, scooting closer. “Men like me, and men like you—men in general. We’ve always been driven by a single instinct and when we’re young, it seems like the most important thing in the world. Grandeur fantasies of having women or men in our beds every night and experimenting with this and that—”
“I can’t believe we’re talking about this right now. I don’t know if I should die from embarrassment or laugh,” I said, shaking my head.
He waved me away. “And children forget their parents are human too. We have the same desires as them.”
“Yeah, I don’t really want to know about your desires. Can we keep this conversation PG-13?”
Sighing, he slapped my leg. “I’m not giving you a talk, I’m giving youthe talk. The most important talk a father can give his son. What I’m trying to say is none of that is important. What really matters is this,” he said, touching his heart. “Thirty-eight years with your Mom and I still can’t wait to get home to her. She makes me smile and laugh until my cheeks hurt. She fills me with warmth in a way little else can. That is what’s important. Not sex. It’s not any different for gay men. You’re as human as any other.”
I shook my head, surprised we were having this conversation. When I was a teenager, the talk consisted of Dad handing me a box of condoms and telling me to be safe. I always thought it was because he didn’t know how to approach gay sex. He’d been cool about my sexuality from the get-go but had never pried.
Absorbing everything he told me, I said, “I know what you’re saying.”
“Good. True happiness comes from within.” He got up and play-punched me in the shoulder. “But coming from a fellow human male, enjoy the ride until you get there, eh?”
“Ugh!” I was on fire, the heat of embarrassment coursing through me. I guessed it was so vivid because we’d never really talked like this before. Like my father, I had a young soul and guessed I always would.
Dad was totally amused, looking unapologetic. “I won’t scar you anymore. Get your mind out of the clouds. You have work to do.”
“Yes, sir.” When he was gone, I slumped in my chair. The thing was, I understood the talk very well. Though I enjoyed anonymous blowjobs in public here and there, the sex didn’t thrill me like it used to. I wanted more. I wanted to be a part of something special and share my life with someone. Which is why it was important to keep things in pace with Jake. He hadn’t said it explicitly, but he seemed to want a relationship that involved more than just fucking. If anything meaningful developed between us, then it would happen slowly. I decided to savor every second of the journey. Boy, did I hope it went in that direction, though.
The day went on like any other Saturday. The clients too busy with work to come in on weekdays filled the afternoon until about two or three. Dad left before me and as Linda closed down the reception station, I lounged in my office chair, staring at myphone. It was nice having Jake’s number. I hadn’t texted him yet, nor received anything from him. I wanted to contact him but was afraid of altering the slow course he had set.
Deciding to call it a day, I left the practice and headed for my parent’s house in Hinsdale, one of Chicago’s most affluent suburbs. It was where I’d grown up and coming to visit was like returning home. My niece came screaming to the door and I scooped her into my arms. I spun with her, the yellow, frilly dress twirling. Her giggle was a balm to my soul.
“Look at your hair,” I said and set her down. She had a crown of fake flowers woven into her braid. “You look like a princess.”
“Flower fairy!” Amelia shouted and jumped in excitement. “Gama did it for me.”
“Not just any flower fairy,” I said, touching one of the blooms in her hair. “A Seelie princess.”
“Seelie?” she asked, staring at me in wonder. My niece had recently taken an interest in fairies and often ran around in a pair of wings, waving a wand around. It was the cutest thing.
“We’re in here,” my mother called from the kitchen.
“I’ll tell you a bedtime story about the Seelie, how about that?” I had considered briefly visiting Adam’s Garden tonight, but there was one thing better than public sex. My niece.
I recalled the first time I’d held her. She’d been so tiny and fragile and pink in my hands. The day came roaring back at me like a tidal wave. Amelia had come out screaming like a banshee, but the moment Bev placed her in my arms, she’d quieted. It was one of the happiest moments of my life. We’d been like peanut butter and jelly ever since.
Things had been better back then with Bev. She hadn’t gone off the rails yet. For a brief few months after Amelia’s birth, everything had been amazing. Things don’t always last, however. I’d come over to Bev’s apartment to celebrate Amelia’sfour-month-old birthday to find her screaming in a dirty diaper, with Bev nowhere in sight. She’d said she’d gone to the store to buy formula, but I knew better. Judging by the hickeys on her neck and the track marks in the crook of her elbow, she’d fallen back in with her shithead of a boyfriend. And he was determined to destroy her. My parents and I wouldn’t let him take Amelia down too, so we’d brought her to their house, with little protest from Bev who seemed more relieved than distraught.
My feelings toward my sister changed that day. As much as it hurt to admit, I’d never forgive her for abandoning her daughter.
“Uncky Gabe?” Amelia prompted and took my hand. She pulled me toward the kitchen. “Come see the cookies me and Gama baked?”
“Okay!” I never thought I’d like kids as much as I did. I had mulled over whether or not I wanted some of my own. Maybe. But I was satisfied with being the doting, spoiling uncle.
She pulled me into the kitchen where the scent of warm sugar and flour permeated the air. My mother was at the island countertop, transferring chocolate chip cookies onto a plate. She was a small woman, thin, and wearing her favorite frilly apron. As always, she was dressed nicely, with subtle makeup and a classy dress complete with hosiery and black pumps. Back in the day she’d been an event coordinator for women's sport teams, which was how Mom and Dad had met. Despite her enjoyment of being a housewife, she was an intelligent woman.
I took a deep breath. “They smell good.”
