“I’m sorry again. About today. It shouldn’t be like this for you.”
“I know,” she nods. And then she is gone.
~
On the way home, something else happens that makes my heart stop beating:
My dad calls me.
I have not spoken to my father since before Thanksgiving, when he texted me to invite me to his holiday dinner…and then told me that my “pal” wouldn’t be welcome.
“Pal.”
My dad knew I’d been with River for months, and he called him my “pal.”
When I first told my dad he was gay, he did not respond. He literally looked out the window and remarked that the sun had gone away. And a few weeks later, my cousin let it slip that my dad was ranting to my uncle that he “didn’t care if I wanted to be gay,” but hated that I was “officially dating a guy full-time” and wished I could’ve just been a “weekend warrior” instead.
I had never heard this phrase, and when I Googled it, the definition broke my heart:
(noun) – a person who participates in an activity only in their spare time.
“Spare time.” My own father regretted that I had a boyfriend and wanted me to live a straight life and only be gay “in my spare time.” It hurt very deeply, and in a way I didn’t expect – I can’t lie.
But still…he’s my dad, and our estrangement has been sadder than I thought it would be. I mean…I know he’s a bigot, and he sucks, and I’m better off without him.
But he is still my dad, and, well…the sadness is something I cannot explain. He’s the one person who was supposed to be there for me no matter what, and he wasn’t, and it still picks at me sometimes. I mean, I don’t really have a dad anymore, all because of something I couldn’t control – it’s kind of simple.
That’s all why I can’t totally cut him off, and why we’re in this sort of in-between netherworld – I guess I can’t deal with the fact that he won’t accept me, and it makes me too scared to ever actually deal with it.
I answer anyway, hoping against hope that he’s calling to tell me he’s had some miraculous about-face, and everything will be back to normal.
“Um. Hi.”
“Hi there,” he says.
“Well…um. How have you been?”
“Good, Chandler.”
“Me, too – work is going well. I might get a promotion, and-”
“Nice, nice!” my dad interrupts. “So proud of you. So, anyway. I’m getting married. This weekend.”
I stop breathing. “What?”
“I just said it.”
“Um…I didn’t even know you were serious with, um…”
“Susan. Susan’s her name. And she’s a great woman, Chandler. Owns a yoga studio and loves camping.”
“Cool, Dad…”
Then he inhales. “Look, I’d like you to come. Susan said it would look weird for her friends if my only kid wasn’t there.”
“Oh…”
“What?” he asks me.
“I just hoped you’d say that maybe you wanted me to come because you missed me, but…okay.”
“What? Of course I do, you’re my kid. Anyway. I just…please, uh, please don’t bring that friend of yours.”
“My friend?”
“Yeah, him. The thing is, Susan doesn’t want any stress or drama, but she’d love to have you, um…solo.”
I feel my nostrils flare. “Solo, huh?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“So you want my presence, but you don’t want the presence of the one person I’d like to bring?”
He laughs in that haughty way of his. “Of course you’re pulling that card again. Don’t look down on me because we have a difference in opinion.”
“Difference of opinion?” I ask, gripping the steering wheel.
“Yes? What about it?”
“Dad, if I said I liked chocolate and you liked vanilla, that’s a ‘difference of opinion.’ Telling me you like the beach when I like the lake is a ‘difference of opinion.’ Saying that I am not welcome to your wedding because I am gay, and therefore an inherently lesser human being – that is not some silly opinion. It’s like my coworker said he ‘doesn’t believe in trans people.’ So fucking what? They still exist. It’s like me saying I don’t believe in breathing. Big whoop, I’m still gonna breathe all day.”
“Oh, God, not this again,” he groans. “See, this is exactly why Susan didn’t want…you know, any drama. Where is all this…this nonsense coming from, anyway?”
“Nonsense? I’m pouring out my feelings to you, and you call it nonsense?”
“I just don’t get you, Chandler. You were so normal, and then…you weren’t.”
Suddenly I decide I can’t take it anymore. I love River, I want to be with River, and if my dad doesn’t accept it, he can go fuck himself – because nobody ever asked him to accept, it anyway. I just want him to deal with it.
But he won’t.
Finally, it happens – I give up on him.
“I feel sorry for your wife,” I say quietly. “Or fiancé. Or whatever she is. I hope she has fun trying to find a heart somewhere inside you. Have a nice wedding. Bye, Dad.”
I hang up. That’s when I see a missed call from my mom, from a few days ago, which I ignored like I usually do.
And suddenly I feel so, so bad for how I treat her. She is the total opposite of my father, and yet I totally ignore her and take her for granted. She’s always asking me to go to some stupid art market with her, and I always blew her off and ignored her because I was going around living my life. But why? Why not go to the dumb art market?
I call her back.
“Hey, Mom,” I say when she answers.
“Hey, stranger! It’s so good to hear from you!”
“I know, sorry, things have been so busy with River and everything. But speaking of seeing you, wanna go to that art market thingy soon?”
“Really?” she asks breathlessly.
“Of course. You mentioned this one stall has really good pastries. Wanna go try them with me?”
“I would love that. I would just love that, Chandler.”
“Good, it’s a date, then!”
She inhales. “And Chandler? Can River come?”
“He’ll be right there with me.”
I hang up and think about River again.
When I left his house the first time, after our first few days together, I was sad and happy at the same time. I was sad because I’d never been with a guy before and didn’t know if I’d be strong enough to ever come back. I thought that maybe what we’d felt for those few days, maybe we’d never get that back again.
But I was also happy because I felt like, for the first time, I had let myself become known to another person. Even during those few short days. My whole life, I wasn’t exactly lonely, but I was getting sick of being alone. So I was happy because even if I never shared a bed with him again, he had given me a rest from my aloneness. It felt so good that, even if I never felt it again, I was grateful.