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I placed the shirt in the space between us, then turned my face toward the wall so I wouldn’t have to look him in the eyes. “Do you recognize this shirt?” I said.
His response was silence. I kept my eyes averted.
There was a painful, prolonged silence before he finally spoke.
“Oh my God,” I finally heard him say. “I can’t believe it. I can’t believe you just asked me that.”
In that moment, all my fears were realized, all my hopes dashed. He was on his father’s side. He could never be with someone like me. And I could never be with someone like him.
“I’m sorry, Ian,” I said, struggling to control my emotions. “But it’s better for both of us that you know the truth. A small part of me wanted to believe you felt the same way I do. But deep in my heart, I knew that—”
“Feel the same way?” he interrupted in disgust. “Are you kidding me? What the hell kind of person do you think I am?”
“I think you’re wonderful, Ian,” I said, finally mustering up the courage to look him in the eyes again. I grabbed his hands. “Just listen to me, please. I think you’re sweet and loving and genuine. That’s the kind of person I think you are. You have no idea how much I want to believe you could love me and we could make this work. But you have to understand, this represents everything I believe in. I’m dedicating my whole life to it, and I can’t have a relationship with a man who doesn’t at leastkindof feel the same way I do.”
He ripped his hands out of mine and stood up. “Let me rephrase my previous question,” he said, clearly unimpressed with my pleas. “Forgetwhat the hell kind of person do you think I am. What the hell kind of person areyou?”
My sadness began to morph into anger. “Really?” I said. “Do you really live such a sheltered life that you don’t see how important this is? Do you really not understand that this is one of the most critical ethical issues of our generation?”
“No, I don’t!” he said. “And if you support it, thenyou’rethe one with the ethical problem.”
“Ihave an ethical problem?”
“To put it mildly.”
“We’re talking about the future of the whole world here, don’t you get that?” I said. I stood up, gloves on and ready to fight. At last, I was starting to see the rich spoiled brat, the clueless billionaire in the ivory tower. “We’re talking about giving our children a safe planet to grow up in!”
“Exactly,” he said. “Which is precisely why I can’t understand how you can stand there and tell me you support raising your future daughters in that kind of world. Or future sons, for that matter.”
“Sons or daughters, what does it matter?” I said. “Boys need clean air to breathe and clean water to drink just as much as girls do.”
“What do clean air and water have to do with it?”
“Everything!” I said. “What the hell do you think we’re talking about here?”
“I don’t know,” he said, frustrated. “You tell me!”
“I’m talking about this,” I said, gesturing to the shirt on the couch. “I said,Do you recognize this shirt?”
He looked down at the shirt. For a moment, he was silent. “Do you recognize this shirt?” he repeated, the anger in his voice suddenly evaporating.
“Yes,” I said. “Do you recognize this shirt. What did you think I said?”
He turned his glance to me, then back down to the shirt on the couch. Then back to me.
“I thought you said,Do you want some ISIS merch.”
It took me a few seconds to process that one. “ISIS merch?”
“That’s what I heard.”
“What the hell is ISIS merch?”
“I don’t know!” he said, gesturing to the folded-up shirt on the couch. “A T-shirt, I guess. A hoodie or beanie. A lunchbox maybe.”
“What the hell kind of psycho would send their kindergartner to school with an ISIS lunchbox?”
“The hell if I know!” he said. “I heard you say ‘ISIS’ followed by the word ‘merch.’ I didn’t even know they had a YouTube channel, much less an online shop. I had to use my imagination and trust me, it wasn’t pretty.”
