I laughed.
“I never imagined how fast things would change.”
“Like—?for instance?”
“Cell phones, computers, social networking, attitudes—”
“Attitudes?”
“The gay thing, for instance.”
Dad hardly ever talked about the gay thing. Only when he had to.
“You know, when I was growing up, it was so hard. Really hard. And now it’s better. A lot of young people don’t think being gay is a big deal.”
“True that,” I said. “I mean we have gay marriage and everything.” And then I looked right at him and said, “Dad? Are you ever gonna get married?”
He just shrugged.
“Of course you’d have to have a boyfriend.”
He threw a meatball at me, and it bounced with a thud on the table. “Do I feel a lecture coming on?”
I saw this quiet and sad look wash over his face. “But you know we’re always going to have to rely on the goodwill of those of you who are straight for our survival. And that’s the damned truth.”
I saw how he hated that. I saw it isn’t fair written in his eyes. It isn’t fair. I wanted to tell him that all the awful things that happened in the old world were dead. And the new world, the world we lived in now, the world we were creating, that world would be better. But I didn’t say it, because I wasn’t sure it was true.
I didn’t really like change, but I’d just lectured my dad about change. Maybe change could be good. Like the gay marriage thing and equality and all that. But I wasn’t sure I liked all the changes. I mean the changes in me. Maybe I was afraid of who I was becoming. Mima said we become who we want to be. But that meant we were in control. I liked control. But maybe control was just an illusion. And maybe I’d always had the wrong idea as to who I really was.
I decided to text Sam and tell her that the word for the day was maybe.
Unwritten Rules
“DID YOU TELL Sam about the letter from your mother?”
“Nope.”
“I thought you told her everything.”
“Nobody tells anybody everything.”
My father nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“You don’t tell me everything.”
“Of course I don’t. I tell you what I think is important. And your letter—?I’d say that was pretty important.”
“Yeah, I guess so. But Sam would just push me to read it. I don’t want her to make my decision for me. She’d probably say something like Well then, let me read it, and then we’d get into it. And she wouldn’t stop until I’d read it. Sam’s pushy—?and she has a way of getting me to do things I don’t want to do.”
“Like what?”
“Never mind, Dad.”
“No, no. Now you’ve stepped into it. You have to give me an example.” That was one of the unwritten rules—?you couldn’t bring up a subject without finishing it. Not that we always followed our own rules.
“Okay,” I said. “Sam taught me how to kiss.”
“What?”
“You can’t get upset.”
“I’m not upset.”
“That ‘What?’?sounded like you were upset.”
“That ‘What?’?sounded like I was surprised. I thought you and Sam were just friends.”
“We are. Best friends. Look, Dad, we were in seventh grade and—”
“Seventh grade?”
“Do you want to hear this story or not?”
“I’m not sure I do.”
“Too late.”
He shook his head—?but he was grinning. “I’m listening.”
“I really liked this girl. Her name was Erika. And sometimes we held hands. And I wanted to kiss her. And I told Sam, and she said she’d teach me. And I told her I didn’t think that was a good idea. But she talked me into it. More like badgered. And, well, in the end it wasn’t any big deal.”
“So she taught you how to kiss.”
I laughed. “She was a good teacher.”
Dad laughed too. He looked at me again and shook his head, not upset. “You and Sam. You and Sam.” And then he smiled. “Did you ever get to kiss her, this Erika girl?”
I smiled. “I don’t kiss and tell, Dad.”
My father just laughed. I mean, he really laughed.
“You would do anything for Sam, wouldn’t you?”
“Just about.”
He nodded. “I admire your loyalty. But I worry sometimes.”
“You don’t have to worry, Dad. I’m cursed with being a straight-edger.”
“Straight-edger?”
“I think you know what I mean.” I wanted to tell him how confused I was. I was in the middle of something, and I couldn’t quite get at what that something was. I started to get mad at myself. Maybe I didn’t do drugs or stuff like that, but I sure as hell was learning how to keep secrets.
“Yeah, Salvie, I think I do know.” He took out his cigarettes from the freezer. “Want to have a cig?”
“That’s your third cigarette today, Dad.”
He nodded as he opened the back door. He sat on the back steps and lit his cigarette.
I sat next to him. “What’s up, Dad?”
“Your Mima,” he said.
“What about her?”
“Her cancer’s back.”
“I thought it was all gone.”
“Cancer’s tricky business.”
“But she’s been cancer-free since I was—”
“Twelve.” He took a deep drag on his cigarette. “It’s metastasized.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that there were still some cancer cells in her body, and they shifted to another site.”
“Where?”
“Her bones.”
“Is that bad?”
“Very bad.”
“Is she going to be all right?”
He took my hand and squeezed it. “I don’t think so, Salvie.” He looked like he was going to cry, but he didn’t. If he wasn’t going to cry, I wasn’t going to cry either. He put his cigarette out. “Your Aunt Evie and I are going to spend the rest of the day with your Mima.”
“Can I go?”
“You and I will go to Mass with her tomorrow. Then we’ll cook for her. Does that work?”
I knew what he was saying. They had things they wanted to talk about, and they didn’t want to have me hanging around. I really, really hated to be left out. “That works,” I said.
I knew my dad heard the disappointment in my voice. He put his hand on my shoulder. “I don’t have a road map for this trip, Salvie. But I won’t be leaving you behind, I promise.”
My father, he knew how to keep a promise.
Fito
DAD HAD GONE to see Mima. Cancer. I pictured my dad and Mima and my Aunt Evie talking. About cancer. Them talk. Me not included. Not happy.
I didn’t want to think about Mima, about losing her, and I kept seeing the look on Dad’s face when he said Very bad.
I sat on the front porch with Maggie and was about to text Sam. But I didn’t know what to text. So I just sat there staring at my cell phone.
I looked up from my phone and saw Fito coming down the street. He walked like a coyote looking for food. For reals. I mean, he was one skinny guy. I always wanted to give him something to eat. He waved at me. “How’s it goin’, Sal?”
“Oh, just hanging out.”
He walked up my sidewalk, sat next to me on the steps, and slid his backpack off. “I just got out of work.”
“Where you working?”
“At the Circle K up the street.”