I called the office and told my secretary that Rick and I would probably be in later but that we had family business to attend to that morning. I asked her to let Rick's secretary know, too. "Who do we call first?" I asked Rick. He and I were still at the dining room table. "Why don't you call Jimmy and see what he thinks?" Rick said. I dialed the number and one of the kids answered. Wade, I think it was. I thought, Son, you're going to be late for school, if you're going. Then I remembered the "senior privilege" of not taking a first-period class second semester of the senior year. Our little workaholic Tim wouldn't even consider exercising the privilege, and Kyle had been too wrapped up in Student Government to do that. "Jimmy, it's Kevin. Sean ran away last night," I said. "You guys were afraid he'd do that, weren't you? I noticed Rick took his car keys yesterday," he said. "Yeah. We thought we had the bases covered. We even called the security company about sending somebody out to change the code on our house so we'd be alerted if he tried to sneak out last night. Unfortunately, they were closed. Rick was going to call them this morning," I said. "Have you called the police?" he asked. "No. That's what I wanted to ask you," I said. "Yeah, and you need to call his social worker at DCF to let them know, too," he said. "We didn't get him through DCF. This is the one that just showed up after reading Jeff's diary about us on the Internet," I said. "Well, you don't have to worry about them, then," he said. "You probably need to call his parents right away." "Yeah. That was already on the 'to do' list for today, even if he hadn't run away. I'm really not looking forward to that one. They refuse to accept the fact that the kid is gay," I said. "I can see why you're dreading that," he said. "I'm trying to think if there's anybody else. The Sheriff's people will let DJJ know what happened, so you don't have to worry there. That's about it, Kevin. I can't think of anybody else. Sheriff and parents ought to do it. "Okay, and thanks, Jimmy. This is the part where I say, 'I'll talk to you later,' but, really, I hope I won't have to," I said. He chuckled. "But you know to call any time," he said. "Yeah. Thanks, Bubba. Bye," I said. Rick was sitting next to me, and he had heard my side of the conversation, at least. "I forgot about calling his parents, until I heard you say something to Jimmy about it. We'll do that call together on the speaker," he said. I called the Sheriff's Department and spoke with an officer who specializes in juvenile issues. "I'd like to come out to your house to talk to you," she said. "That's fine. Are you coming this morning, or . . . " "Yes, I'm on my way," she said. "Okay. We'll both be here," I said. "Either you or your wife can go in to work. I just need to talk to one of you," she said. "Male partner, not wife," I said. "I beg your pardon," she said. "The other half of my partnership is a man. I don't have a wife," I said. "Oh. Well. Whoever," she said. "We'll both be here," I said. "She's on her way," I said to Rick. The officer got there in about thirty minutes. She was young, probably not more than thirty, attractive, and very bright. She wanted us to call her "Patricia," and we, of course, told her our first names. After the introductions, we filled her in on our family in general and on Sean in particular. We included, of course, the incident at school the day before. "Kevin and Rick, I'll be straight with you." Then she paused. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean anything by that." "No, that's okay. You can be straight all you want, as long as we can be gay," Rick said. She chuckled. "Thank goodness you have a sense of humor. I do things like that all the time, like one time I told a man I'd give my right arm for something, and, of course, he was an amputee. You guessed it. No right arm." We laughed politely. "Anyway, on the issue of Sean, I've got to be upfront and tell you I don't think there's much chance of our finding him. This kid is smart, and he's resourceful, too. Does he have any money, do you know?" "He has a couple of credit cards," Rick said. "We don't supervise those, however. His parents pay those bills. So, yeah, he has money. Plus, he probably has cash on him, too. How much, I don't know." "Kevin, earlier you said they charged him as an adult, yet he was sentenced to juvenile detention and not adult jail. I'm afraid that doesn't really compute. Who told you he was being treated as an adult?" she asked. "I asked our lawyer why the proceedings yesterday were so public, and he said it was because he was being dealt with as an adult. Isn't that what Jimmy said, Rick?" Rick said that was correct. "He even said that might be the basis of an appeal," I said. "Well, your lawyer was right about it being too public to be juvenile. Who was the judge? Do you know?" she asked. "Judge Elliot? I think that's who it was," Rick said. "Yes, it was Judge Elliot," I confirmed. "I see. Judge Elliot is a wonderful man in a great many ways, but sometimes he plays by his rules, not the rules of the State of Florida, if you get my point. Anyway, if Sean were an adult felon, he'd be in jail right now. He wouldn't have come home, and he wouldn't have been able to escape. That's relevant because, quite frankly, tracking down a smart juvenile with a car and access to money is very costly and time consuming. If he had committed murder, say, or even armed robbery, as a juvenile, then, yeah, we'd really go after him. But oral sex in a men's room? Pretty iffy, I'd say," she said. "Then why did they arrest him?" Rick asked. "Well, it is against the law, and presumably the other kid is a minor. Of course, he's a minor, too. But it was at a school," she said. "How did they catch him? Did somebody complain?" "They saw it on the surveillance cameras," I said. "Oh, sweet Jesus! Excuse my language. You mean to tell me they're using surveillance cameras in the restrooms at school to catch kids? In my humble opinion, the judge should never have heard this case. Guys, it is so frustrating sometimes," she said. "I was wondering about that myself," I said. "Patricia, we have, or had, eight gay kids living here. Now it's seven, of course. And Sean was out of control. He was beaten pretty severely in October on a family trip to St. Augustine, and it was over the same thing. His former boyfriend broke up with him Saturday because he discovered Sean performing oral sex in the men's room at the mall. He 'borrowed' another boy's car, before he even had his license, to sneak out at night. He's snuck out other times, too. We had him in to see a psychiatrist, and she put him on medication for depression. We saw some improvement after that, but apparently he's back to his old tricks." "Is he still taking the medicine?" she asked. "No. After he improved, she took him off the medicine. I guess he needs to go back on it," I said. "It sounds like it," she said. "If we do find him, are you willing to take him back?" "One of the kids asked us that at breakfast this morning, and I told him Rick and I haven't discussed it. I'm personally leaning toward 'no' right now," I said. "I'm more than just leaning in that direction," Rick said. "I'm afraid I'm more than leaning that way, too," I said. "So, really, if we do apprehend him, it's going to be a stickier wicket than it might otherwise have been. Not that I blame you in the least. You've got too much at stake here with the other kids," she said. "That's my thinking, too," Rick said. "Things were so good here before Sean came on the scene. I don't know if we can go back to that, but that's what I'm shooting for." "Well, what you guys are doing is totally remarkable, as far as I'm concerned. You have a right to peace in your life, if not privacy. How did he get along with the other kids?" she asked. "He never seemed to find his place, so to speak. The kids in this house are very close to one another, and four of the older boys will probably end up as life partners. They look out for one another, help one another with school work, play together. We speak of them as being brothers, and that's the spirit we try to inculcate. Sean never was anybody's brother or best friend," I said. "You said Sean had a boyfriend. What's he like?" she asked. "His name is Scott, and he's a very nice kid. I think Sean took him for granted, pretty much. Used him for sex and to relieve boredom. Scott finally had enough of it, though," Rick said. "I'm curious to see what Sean looks like. Do you happen to have a picture of him?" she asked. Rick and I both smiled, and he excused himself. "We have a family Web site that's loaded with pictures of all the kids. One of the boys is quite a good photographer. In fact, this is his book," I said, picking up a copy of Kyle's book that was on the coffee table. We were in the living room. "He has a book out? My word," she said. "Sean's not in it because it was published before Sean got here, but yes. This is the quality of kid we're dealing with around here. Kyle, the one who did this book, was president of student government at Beachside High School his senior year, and this year, Tim, Kyle's boyfriend, is valedictorian. Tim, and another boy, Brian, just received full Dean's Honor Scholarships to Tulane University. They're each valued at $120,000," I said. "Kyle, Tim, and Brian are all Eagle Scouts." She made a soft whistle sound. While Patricia and I were talking in the living room, Rick was in the study printing a couple of pictures of Sean from the Web site. "This is what he looks like," Rick said, handing her the pictures. "Oh, my. He's adorable," she said. "On the outside, maybe," Rick said. "Well, yeah," she said. "May I have these?" "Sure," Rick said. "Kevin and Rick, I'm sorry we had to meet under these circumstances, but I'm certainly happy we met," she said. "I'll stay in touch and keep you posted on everything I find out, but, as I said, I'm not terribly optimistic about Sean." "Thanks, Patricia. I think we feel the same way about you. Here's my card. It's got all of my numbers on it. My digits, as the kids say," I said. Rick gave her one of his, too. She looked at the cards and then at us. "Goodson Enterprises. Mary Ann Pennington is my aunt," she said. "Now I know who both of you are. I didn't know you had the kids, though." "The one who did this book is Kyle Goodson, very much of 'those' Goodsons," I said. "Like the heir apparent, even." "This is incredible. I thought I'd have to get far away from Emerald Beach to have my preconceptions shattered the way you guys have shattered them today. Thank you," she said. "Well, thank you," Rick said. That ended the interview, and Patricia was on her way. "Nice lady, isn't she? I can't wait to tell Mary Ann," I said. "She's very nice. I wonder if she has a brother," Rick said. We both laughed. * * * I had a feeling that was going to be the easy part. I didn't relish the idea of calling the Kellys and breaking the news to them. "Well, shall we get it over with?" Rick asked. "Yeah. We might as well. We'll probably have to leave a message and hope they get back to us," I said. I dialed the home number, and a man answered it on the second ring. "Hello," he said. "Hello? Dean Kelly?" I asked. "Yes," he said. "This is Kevin Foley," I said. "Who?" he said, as though he had no recognition of my name. "Kevin Foley. In Emerald Beach, Florida. I'm one of Sean's foster fathers," I said. "Oh, I see," he said. "Well, what can I do for you?" "Sir, if you don't mind, I'm going to put this call on speakerphone so my partner, Rick Mashburn, can participate," I said. He didn't respond, so I did it. "Hello, Dean Kelly. This is Rick Mashburn." "How do you do," Kelly said. "Fine, sir, and yourself?" "Fine, thanks. Is there some point to this call, gentlemen? I'm rather busy," Kelly said. "Yes, sir, there is. Your son ran away last night," Rick said. I knew he didn't like Dean Kelly's attitude, and I could tell he was trying very hard to keep his voice pleasant. "Oh, my. Where did he go?" Kelly asked. "We don't know. He ran away," I said. "That's what being a runaway is." "Don't take that attitude with me, young man. Weren't you supervising him?" "Of course we were. Did you know where he was when he ran away from your house?" I said. "We didn't even know he was gone until he called from there," he said. "Dean Kelly, sir, I'm afraid you're the one with the attitude. You didn't know your fifteen-year-old son was gone from your house for two days until he called from here to say he had run away, and you're trying to make us look like we weren't exercising proper supervision? Sir, you're fucked up," Rick said. "If you're going to use that kind of language, I can't continue this conversation," Kelly said. "Well, hang up if you have to. Just know, though, that Sean is scheduled for jail starting tomorrow afternoon at five o'clock," Rick said. There was dead silence, but we knew he hadn't hung up. "Jail?" Kelly said. "Yes, sir. Jail. Juvenile detention. Eight months of community service, and three years of probation. As of yesterday afternoon. For something he did at school yesterday during lunch," Rick said. "And no, Kevin and I were not at school every minute to supervise a sixteen-year-old boy. We were at work, earning the money to support him, since his parents contributed absolutely nothing to his support in this house. You're killing this kid, Mr. Kelly. He didn't have a family besides us, and now he doesn't have us anymore, either." I was so proud of my guy, I was to the point of bursting. "What did he do to get arrested?" Kelly asked. His tone was a lot different than it had been. "He had oral sex with three boys in a school restroom during lunch. And he was the suck-er, not the suck-ee," Rick said. "But he's not gay. He wouldn't do such a thing," Kelly said. "Look, Mr. Kelly . . . " "Dean Kelly." "All right. Dean Kelly. The school has it on videotape, okay? I mean, that's probably a gross violation of Sean's rights, but they have it, and one of our sons saw it," Rick said. "What kind of pervert would watch something like that?" Kelly asked. "GOD! Kevin, I can't talk to this asshole anymore. You take over," Rick said. "This is Kevin Foley, again," I said. "Mr. Foley, your father's reputation is quite sterling in academic medicine," Kelly said. "Look, Mr. Kelly. Dr. Kelly. Dean Kelly. Whatever the hell you are. This isn't about my father. It's about your son, and it's about the kind of pervert who would cut a college class to bail out your son. The same boy who served as president of the Student Government Association at his high school, elected by a landslide, even though he is gay and was fully out at the time. The same boy who published a book of photographs when he was eighteen. The same boy who is represented by a gallery in Soho in New York City. The same boy who has a picture hanging in a museum in Phoenix, fucking, Arizona. Oh, and did I mention he watched the video with the principal of the school in her office?" I was losing it fast. "That's the kind of pervert we're talking about. The same boy who has been with his partner for over three years. No wonder Sean hates you," I said. There was a very long pause. "What are you going to do about getting the boy back?" Kelly asked. Rick was calmer by then. "You take it, Babe," I said. "We called the police, and we're calling you. Our relationship with you, your son, and your entire family is finished with this phone call. We're tearing up the power of attorney you gave us. Your son is officially a fugitive from justice, and we want no part of him from here on out. I think we tried our best with Sean, but it's over now," Rick said. "We've got seven other kids to think of, and Sean has kept this family stirred up." Long pause. "You said Sean hates me. How can he possibly hate me? I'm his father," Kelly said. "I didn't say that. Kevin did, but I agree with Kevin completely. Sean never once, in my presence, referred to you and his mother as anything but 'my fucking parents.' Often, he would add, 'and I hate them.' That pretty much convinces me of how he feels about you. Look, we've told you the basics. We've told you what we needed to tell you. If the police find Sean, we'll let you know. If you get to a point where you really want to deal with the issues about your son, give us a call. You have our numbers, or your wife does, anyway. Until then, though, this is goodbye." Rick hung up. We both sat very still for a long time. I knew Rick was thinking about what had just happened, as much as I was. I couldn't believe that guy. What an arrogant prick. "I feel like I just took a beating," Rick said. "Like we both did." "I know. He is a piece of work, isn't he?" I said. "He's a piece of work, and I feel like the POW," Rick said. I thought about that for a second, and then I laughed. The initials. "It's after eleven. Are you going in today?" Rick asked. "Nope," I said. "I'm going to go change into jeans and a sweatshirt, and I'm skipping today. What about you?" "I'm doing the same thing. I've already worked a lot harder than I usually do. Let's go eat with the kids at the Starfish," Rick said. "Great idea," I said. "And you know what? I'm tired of being a grown-up. I'm wearing a baseball cap." Rick laughed his deep, personal laugh that he reserves for me, for the first time in a couple of days. I love that man so much. "Me, too. Let's be kids," he said.
There was no way I was going to be cornered, boxed in, in some detention center for a week. My ass would have been raw by the time I got out of there, and, believe it or not, I was saving that for the man I loved. When I had gotten my car in November, Kyle had suggested I keep that key that didn't have the fancy plastic top in my wallet because I might need it one day. Well, I was going to need it that night. Rick made me give him my regular key, the one with the remote door unlocker on it, and I did because I didn't have any choice in the matter. They already had my second key, also with a remote. But I still had the third one, only they forgot I did. Rick sent me to my room. That was okay, though, because I think he was about to pop me. He is a lot bigger than I am, and I pretty much figured he could have wasted my ass, if he had wanted to. I was in a very sour mood that night, and I started packing my stuff as soon as I got to my room. They must have told the others to stay away from me because none of them came to talk to me, even. I wasn't on the best of terms with the rest of them, anyway, and I was sure they were all against me now. All the more reason to leave. I had everything packed by ten o'clock. I set my watch alarm for midnight, and I took a two-hour nap on top of the bedspread. At midnight, I woke up, and I snuck out of that place forever. I felt sort of bad about leaving because I had wanted to be there so bad at first. At times, it was the best place in the world. At other times, I felt confined, captured by their whole fucking attitude of gay dignity, gay pride, gay normality, gay bullshit. I finally got on I-10, heading west. I never looked back.
Two days later, after our talk with Dean Kelly, Dr. Kelly, Sean's mother, called. You might know, I was home by myself without Kevin. I was working at home that day, in the study, because I had budget stuff I had to concentrate on. I didn't want the people at the office pestering me with questions, so I had stayed home. Cheryl knew where I was and what I was doing, and, of course, Kevin did, too. "Hello," I said, answering the phone. "This better be important." I assumed it was Cheryl or one of the kids. "Hello. I think it is. It's about a human life that we must save," a lady said. "I don't take calls from telemarketers. Sorry," and I hung up. I got back to work, and the damn phone rang again. That time I noticed the caller ID before I picked up. I didn't even recognize the area code, much less the number. "Hello," I said. "Don't hang up. It's Sean's mother," the lady said. "Mrs. Kelly?" I asked. "Yes. Is this Rick or Kevin?" she asked. "Rick. At least you act like you've heard of us," I said. "Yes, well, Sean has emailed me about you two. I routinely delete most of his emails without reading them, but I have read a few. He seems to think very highly of the two of you. My husband told me this morning that Sean seems to be missing. Have you done anything about that yet?" "He doesn't 'seem' to be missing, he is missing. He ran away. Do you know about the trouble he's in?" I asked. "No. Is Sean in trouble? Didn't you exercise proper supervision of him? How can he be in trouble. He's only sixteen. How could a sixteen-year-old possibly get in trouble?" she asked. "I don't know how a sixteen-year-old could possibly get into trouble, ma'am. It's never happened before in the history of the fucking world, but your boy sure did it," I said. "Your language is totally inappropriate, young man, and so is your attitude. If you want to talk to me, I insist you apologize and carry on civilly," she said. "See. I really don't want to talk to you, and you called me. I didn't call you, remember? Good bye," I said. I was so damn frustrated with those people, and with the way they thought about Sean, I was ready to kick butt. I walked out into the den, and Kyle and Justin were there. "Justin, give me a cigarette," I said. He looked at me like I was out of my mind, and, in some small way, I was. "Sure. Have one. Have the whole pack, if you want it," Justin said. "Here. Have a lighter, too. They really don't work that good without fire." That made me laugh, and Kyle laughed, too. And then I started to cry. "Rick! What's going on here, man? Why are you crying?" Justin asked. His tone of voice was kind and gentle. "I just got off the phone with Sean's mother, and she and her husband don't get a damn thing. They absolutely don't get it," I said. "Well, tell you the truth, I'm glad he's gone. And I'm glad you and Kevin said he ain't coming back, Rick. He no more fits in with us than the man in the moon," Justin said. "Have you and Kevin even had time to notice what an incredible kid that Todd is?" Kyle asked. "No, we really haven't, I guess," I said. "I think that boy is going to make varsity baseball as a fucking freshman, Rick. I been out there every day this week, and he is awesome. The coaches might want him to play JV this year so he can get some high school experience, but he's a hell of a lot better than most of the seniors, and that ain't no lie, Rick. I swear to God," Kyle said. "He's that good, huh?" I said. "You know he's a pitcher, right?" "No, I didn't know that, Kyle," I said. This was the kind of conversation I wanted to have with my sons. I never again wanted to have the kind of conversation I had had with Sean's mother. "Oh, yeah. He hums 'em across, Rick. And he's a good fielder, too. They tried him in center, and he pegged out two runners at home. That boy is fucking awesome. He's going to make varsity. If he don't, it'll be for training purposes only. I know that as sure as I know anything," Kyle said. "Baseball is Kevin's sport, you know?" I said. "I know it is, but you know enough about the game to know what I'm talking about, don't you?" Kyle said. "Yeah, I do. Kyle, why didn't you ever play sports in high school?" I asked. I had wondered that for a long time. Kyle was a natural athlete, in my opinion. "I didn't play because I'm not that good at it. I'm an athletic supporter. Sort of like a jock strap. I'm not an athlete," Kyle said. "Bull-shit!! Kyle, you're a great athlete. Pool? Darts? Ping-pong? Skiing? SCUBA diving? Swimming? Hunting? Pool volleyball? How many more do I need to name to convince you?" Justin was almost screaming. "You forgot surfing and skate boarding," he said. "But those aren't really sports, either." "Oh, my God! What do you think are sports? Huh?" Justin said. I love it when those two go at it on a topic, although this one was more personal than most. It was also totally stupid and irrelevant. Maybe that's why it was so much fun to watch them. "I don't know. Football, basketball, and baseball, for sure. Track, I guess, too," Kyle said. "But I'm kind of shaky on that one. That's the only one I actually did play for Beachside. Cross country for two years. I even lettered in it." "You think there are only four sports in the whole damn world? Jesus Christ," Justin said. "Maybe soccer, too, but I haven't played that for a long time. I really liked it when I played it, though. I was pretty good at it, too. Why are we arguing about this?" "Because this is all y'all have to talk about," I said, "and it's refreshing as hell to me. Here's your cigarette back. I really didn't want it." "I didn't think you did," Jus said. "Let me tell you something. I've lived and played with you two guys every day for almost three years now. And you're both very fine athletes. Trust me." "How would you know?" Justin asked. "Because I'm an Ironman, that's how I'd know," I said. "Ironman? What good is that? Does that make you an athlete?" Kyle asked. "No. But being an athlete let me be an Ironman," I said. "Very good, Rick. You know we're just teasing, don't you? You and each other? We know who the athletes are. It's the three of us," Justin said. "Don't forget Tyler," Kyle said. "And now Todd." "Oh, yeah, them for sure. Not none of the rest of them, though," Justin said. "I want you guys to try golf. I've been playing that some, and I really like it," I said. "I started playing golf when I was eight years old, Rick. I love the game," Kyle said. "Well, let's play," I said. "Okay, but you need to go hunting with us before the winter is over," Kyle said. "Absolutely, Rick. Great guys, too," Justin said. "Okay. Hunting, then golf. Gotcha," I said. "I've got to get back to work. I feel so much better from just talking to you guys. Let's see if I can concentrate." I wasn't back at the desk more than ten minutes when the phone rang again. It was Mrs. Kelly again, and I made up my mind to get through a conversation with the lady. Her son was in big trouble, and she had a right to know about it, no matter how rude she was. "Hello. This is Rick Mashburn," I said. "Rick, this is Barbara Kelly again, and I want to apologize for before. Look. I really do care about Sean, even if I haven't shown that very well. Talk to me, please." "Apology accepted, if you'll accept mine," I said. "I do. Tell me about Sean," she said. "May I call you Barbara?" I asked. "Yes, please do. You don't have any idea where he is?" "No, I'm afraid we don't. Here's what happened. On Monday of this week, Sean was arrested at school during the lunch period for administering oral sex in the boys' bathroom to three boys. They got the whole thing on videotape, so it's not really in question. He did it," I said. "I see," she said. "Is that legal? To tape people in the restroom, I mean?" "Probably not, but they did it. And Sean got caught," I said. "Anyway, there was an arraignment Monday afternoon. Kevin and I, and our son Kyle, were there. Sean, on the advice of our attorney, pleaded 'no contest' to the charges. Actually, it was only to one count. They didn't charge him for all three; only for the boy they actually caught him with. Anyway, the judge gave him a week in the juvenile detention center, to start today at 5 PM, eight months of community service, and three years' probation. "When we got home, we were talking with Sean and the other boys in the house. He was pretty obnoxious and arrogant. I sent him to his room. I didn't want him close to me because I was pretty angry and didn't want a physical confrontation. Anyway, that was really the last I, personally, saw of Sean." "How was he able to run away?" she asked. "Well, we confiscated his car keys, and I made him give me his cell phone and computer. I didn't know who he was in contact with, and we wanted to do everything we could to prevent him from running. We even tried to have the access code on our home security system changed that afternoon so he couldn't sneak out, but it was after business hours. We did everything we knew to do to prevent his running, believe me," I said. "The only trouble is, nobody thought about the valet parking key he had to his car. It was in his wallet, not on his key ring. We figure that's what he used to run," I said. "Well, it sounds like you did more than I would have thought to do to prevent it. Sean is a very headstrong and determined young man, when he wants to be," she said. "Yes, ma'am. He is that," I said. "What do we do now? Anything?" she asked. "I don't know what to do. We notified the Sheriff's Department, on the advice of our attorney. A lady from there came out to talk to us, but she wasn't very optimistic that they'll be able to locate him. She said that a kid as smart as Sean is, with a car and with money, is almost impossible to find, unless he wants to get caught. Sean has a whole lot more resources than other kids have when they run away," I said. "He has credit cards. I could cancel those. That would dry up his money," she said. "Yes, it would, but think about the alternatives. He'd still need money. How would he get it otherwise?" I asked. "What would be his alternatives?" she asked. "Theft. Prostitution. For starters," I said. "Oh, my." There was a long pause. "I feel so helpless. So hopeless, too." "I know you do. Kevin and I feel exactly the same way," I said. "Rick, I feel like such a failure. All my life, all I've ever known is success. First as a student; then as a professor. I've worked with thousands of students through the years, and rather successfully, too, I think. I've always thought I understood young people," she said. "I'm not sure how well you understand Sean, though," I said. "Obviously I don't," she said. "And the fact that he's gay doesn't help." "Yeah, but that fact doesn't have to hurt, either. Unless you want it to," I said. There was a long pause. "You're right. Do you know what an epiphany is?" she asked. "A sudden insight?" I asked. "Yes. I just had one. I have never seen myself as homophobic, and I've even befriended homosexuals. But deep down I was fearful and resentful of Sean's being gay. And my husband is, too. That's the root of this. It's how all of it started with Sean last summer. He told us he is gay, and we refused to believe him. We assumed it was some kind of phase or something. Some kind of adolescent confusion. We argued there is no genetic history of homosexuality in either family. We were too abstract, too academic, to understand our own son's feelings." She started crying. I didn't say anything immediately. I let her cry. What else could I do? Besides, she needed to cry. She needed to feel some of the pain and anguish Sean had felt. "I'm so ashamed of myself," she said. "For crying?" I asked. "No. For failing so miserably at mothering my son. Rick, he was not a planned child. I guess you probably figured that out. I used that as an excuse for distancing myself emotionally from my own flesh and blood. His father and I are very cerebral people, but Sean was not some concept that we could examine analytically, and either accept or reject. Sean was and is a very real person, and he deserves more than we've given him," she said. "Barbara, Kevin and I have made the decision that Sean can't come back here, when, or if, he's located. We'll support him, you, and your husband every way we can, but Sean can't live with us anymore," I said. "I understand," she said. "His being here kept all of us stirred up, and his leaving has been pretty traumatic," I said. "We've never not had a happy ending before." "Thank you for all you and Kevin have done for Sean. I hope it hasn't been too heavy a burden on you," she said. "It's been a very heavy burden, emotionally, and to some extent financially, as well," I said. "Financially? I thought . . . " "No, Barbara. Every month Sean asked me if I had gotten money from you and your husband, and every month I had to say 'no.' That hurt him deeply. Oh, and his birthday is October 7th, not November 7th," I said. "My husband didn't send you money? We talked about that," she said. "No, he didn't. But we're not in trouble financially. Don't worry about that. We're doing quite well, in fact. Kevin and I both have executive positions, and some of the other boys contribute more than their share," I said. "Rick, I suspect this phone call will be a pivot point in my life. I'm not a young woman any more, and I can't undo what I've done, or failed to do. I hope you'll forgive me. Us. And I hope that someday Sean will, as well. I have an enormous amount to think about, and I need to get on with doing that. Thank you for talking to me and for everything you've done for Sean," she said. "I wish I could give you a hug right now, and I wish I could give Sean one, too. Good luck, Barbara. With everything," I said, and we finished the call. I called Kevin. "Hey, what's up?" he asked. He sounded cheerful. "I just got off the phone with Sean's mother. Come home. I need you," I said. "That bad, huh? I'll be there in ten minutes." |