Mom, I'm Gay

Chapter 27

  My life was changing so quickly. Not only had I moved after all those years in the house, but my youngest son had gone off to college, and I had a blossoming romance to deal with. In the condo, sometimes, I still woke up in the morning not quite sure where I was. Many mornings, the phone ringing woke me up before the alarm rang. Sometimes it was my sister calling, other times, Gabby, but most often it was Jim. Jonathan did not call me in the mornings, but rather in the early evening, and when he did call, I couldn’t get him to stay on the phone for long. Some days, he sent me short emails. He seemed to be adjusting to college very well. He said he really liked Shelby, he said, but Shane was incredibly shy and therefore hard to get to know. The fourth member of their suite, the young woman named Tank, was way over the top, according to Jonathan.

  During one of his brief calls, he told me, “Tank – I told you that’s what she calls herself - isn’t like any girl I’ve ever known! She’s more masculine than me!” He went on to tell me that she shaved every morning, that she and Shelby argued over everything, and that Shane seemed afraid of her. There was no opportunity for me to interject an opinion as he went right from that subject to his classes, which didn’t begin until the following Monday. This week was filled with activities designed to acclimate the freshmen to college life. It was called Freshman Orientation week, which seemed to include lots of parties at night, and opportunities to get involved in different clubs and organizations during the day. So far, he had gone running with Shelby twice. They seemed to hit it off well, and were both taking advantage of all the activities. I looked forward to hearing from him and it was never a long enough conversation when he did call.

  Nearly every morning, Jim called to say good morning, tell me his plans for the day and ask me about mine. He wasn’t going to come back to town for at least a month, but our relationship was growing through the frequent telephone conversations. We were getting to know each other pretty well, and the initial attraction was growing. Although he knew it might take several months, he was trying to find a law office that needed his skills here, and he had to tie up the loose ends on his current work. He was even giving some of his accounts away to younger members of his firm to expedite things. He also called again at night, and assured me he was slowly cleaning out the home he had shared with Bob’s mother for many years.

  “I could come and help you with that,” I heard myself offer late one night.

  There was a short pause before he answered, “Really? You want to come here and help?” Apparently he looked around and saw some sort of chaos, as he added, “It might take me a week to make this place presentable enough for you to see it!”

  I giggled, and told him I would be able to get away at the beginning of October, but I’d need to start making plans soon if he really thought I should come.

  “I really want to see you!” he exclaimed, and I felt that warmth in my gut that made it hard for me to deny how much I wanted to see him, too.

  Bob and Marshall didn’t try to hide their enthusiasm when I told them during our next lunch that I was going to help Jim. In retrospect, I was so glad I was the one who went to help Jim. It’s hard to imagine what their reaction would have been if they knew what I found when I arrived.

  At first glance, Jim’s house was not much different from many empty nesters homes I had seen over the years in my profession. There was memorabilia from days gone by, such as pictures of the children and mementos of their accomplishments. Then there were areas of new interest that had developed after the kids had left. For Jim and his wife, it appeared that Susie had taken classes in glass painting, and there were lovely displays of her work throughout the house. A matching carafe and glass set sat on the buffet in the dining room. It was frosted glass covered with small butterflies and flowers painted in cheerful colors. In the foyer, there was a beautiful oval mirror which had been painted to match the colors on the wallpaper, and another small mirror was in the half bath on the first floor, also painted with colors that matched the room. I thought Susie must have had a lot of talent and told Jim that. I also couldn’t help but think that Bob had bought a house much like the one he had grown up in, which was a tribute to how he had grown up. I mentioned that to Jim, and it comforted him. Also displayed was a collection of war history videos and books, one of Jim’s hobbies, but the music collection seemed fairly new. This was the part that was really a mess. There were CDs everywhere. Some of the artists were more along the oldies but goodies type, but it was obvious they were new because the originals most certainly had not been on CDs. Jim had a good sound system, and his new collection included Elton Jon, Queen, K.D. Lang, Melissa Etheridge, and the Indigo Girls. I asked him how long he’d been listening to these artists.

  “Only since Susie died,” he replied. “We never listened to music much together – we had very different tastes, I guess, but after she was gone, I started buying these.” His hand swept over the table the CDs were laying on.

  “Why these particular artists? Was their music comforting to you as you dealt with her death?”

  He shook his head, no, and wondered, “You don’t know what they all have in common?”

  I felt as though I had stepped back to my own life just six months ago. Jim had done what I had done by inviting Bob and Marshall to dinner because they were gay. These artists all made beautiful music, but had he considered it “gay” music? To me, it was just music with no sexual orientation necessarily attached. However, I couldn’t help wonder if he had begun this collection as an effort to get closer to Bob? As my thoughts explored this idea, I realized that I was pulling my usual old Mara routine, not saying a thing but following my thoughts as they ran around in my head. I’m not sure what look registered on my face, but it was most likely a smile of some sort because Jim thought I was laughing at him.

  Very sincerely, he said, “It’s not funny, Mara! How am I supposed to understand Bob if I don’t find some way to connect?”

  I had never said it aloud, but with these words, he confirmed it. He had done exactly what I had with Marshall and Bob. “I’m not laughing, Jim,” I gently told him. “Some of this music might have given you the insight you seek, but hasn’t listening to all of these musicians taught you this one thing? The feelings of love we feel are human, not heterosexual or homosexual…” I let my voice drift off, as I put on one of the numerous Indigo Girls’ CDs. I sat down on his couch and we listened to some of the words. They spoke of falling in love with a friend. Such love was an amazing thing, and the words of the song were strong and clear about the importance of believing in each other and believing in love.

  Their harmonies were beautiful. I reached out and pulled him down on the couch to sit next to me, and we sat, holding hands, listening to that beautiful love song. The air in the room became noticeably warmer as he took my face in his hands and kissed me, over and over, all the while as the music played on.

  It was to the Indigo Girls singing that Jim and I made love. For me, it was the first time in so many years, and for him, it was the first time since his wife had become too ill. Afterwards, we lay in each other arms and both of us cried. The memories of Dick were flooding my mind, and I’m sure it was the same for him with thoughts of Susie.

  He broke our somber mood by saying, “I usually don’t cry…” and I said, “I don’t usually have sex!” and we started giggling together. I felt so close to him, closer to him at that moment than I had felt towards anyone in so long. I basked in the feeling like a turtle sunning itself on a log. I wished the feeling would last forever.