Mom, I'm Gay

Chapter 4

  Was it fate? Some people might call it that, but to me, it was divine intervention. I had been working in the real estate industry for nearly twenty years, although I had cut back to part-time when the children were young. But the next morning I had a new experience. When I arrived at the house I was showing, I met the potential clients, who were two men who looked to be in their early thirties. They were business professionals, one in advertising and the other a sales manager at a large retail store. They did absolutely nothing to hide the fact that they were a couple, that they were buying the house together, and that they felt a great deal of affection towards each other. It was a new experience for me as a real estate agent, and the timing for me, as Jonathan’s mother, was perfect.

  Both men were very attractive in different ways, and both looked extremely fit. Marshall was tall and lean with very dark skin, almost blue-black. He spoke with a slight accent that sounded slightly French to me. His hair was closely cropped and his light brown linen trousers looked perfect with his darker brown suit jacket and tie with small green and gold fleur-de-lis. Although he was the quieter of the two, I soon discovered his laugh had a deep resonance that seemed to stay in the room for several moments. I fell in love with his gentle demeanor and deep laugh immediately. Bob wasn’t as tall, but he was equally as handsome with his highlighted hair, an almost – too – dark tan, and the most perfectly straight, white teeth I had ever seen. He did more talking than Marshall, and he seemed to have a more serious personality. I learned this would be their first house, although they currently owned a condo together, and the prospect of owning one was very exciting for them. As we toured that first house, they told me – actually Bob did most of the telling, with Marshall adding little details now and then - how they had met and how long they had been together, just like so many married couples to whom I had shown houses over the years. Only yesterday, I think I would have reacted differently to their unabashed exposure, but today was different for me. It felt to me that God had brought them to me at this particular time. Guiltily, I realized that it was because now that I knew (or more honestly, acknowledged) my own son was gay, I couldn’t help but take a special interest in them immediately. Even if that was the reason, I wanted to help them find the perfect house in a stronger way than I usually felt.

  “Bob, Marshall,” I said as I looked from one to the other, “now that I’ve met you and observed your reactions to this house, I have a few others I think you’d be interested in…Would you like me to set up viewing times?”

  “This house was all right, but I think we both agree it’s not the house of our dreams. Before we agree to look at some others, first we’ll need to know their location; we’ve narrowed our house hunting down to several neighborhoods,” Bob answered. He looked at Marshall for confirmation before he continued, “But we really like the way you show a house, Mara, and we’d love you to line up a few more. Can you give us a call later on this evening?”

  Before I answered him, Marshall added, “We have met with a few other real estate agents, and you have been more accepting of us than any of the others.”

  Bob filled in a little more detail. “We know we’re more obvious than is necessary. We’re doing that on purpose, because we must have a good, open relationship with an agent if she or he is to find the perfect house for us. But we feel,” and he looked at Marshall, who nodded his agreement, “that you are heads and shoulders above the others.” He hadn’t said much, but those few words meant a great deal to me. Inwardly, I puffed up with pride.

  I told them I was flattered. Part of me wanted to say more, tell them about my Jonathan, but the timing didn’t seem right. I rarely tell my clients much about myself personally; it seems more important to hear about their lives in order to help them find the right house. They asked a few more questions about the house they had just seen, and we set a time for my phone call later that evening.

  I went straight from the showing to the office, where Jennifer, our secretary, seemed to be sitting on the edge of her chair waiting for me. “How was the showing?” she asked with a great deal of interest.

  “It went very well, thank you, but why are you so interested?”

  “Wasn’t Bob just gorgeous?” she asked. Jennifer was a lovely looking twenty-five year old with shiny long brown hair and beautiful blue eyes. She was always on the lookout for an eligible man.

  “I don’t think I’d expect a date with him, Jen.”

  “Why not?” she demanded. “He came here alone yesterday, and he told me he wasn’t married! Don’t you think I’d have a chance with him?”

  “Actually, no I don’t, but not for the reason your thinking. Bob isn’t married, but he’s...very ...involved.” I found myself having a hard time with the topic. Inwardly, I chastised myself for feeling uncomfortable.

  “Oh, dear. Did he bring her with him? Was she a knockout, too?”

  I bit the bullet. “Actually, Jen, it wasn’t a she, it was a he, and yes, actually, he was a knockout.”

  “You’re not serious? Oh, yes, you are. He’s gay? What a waste!” Her disdain was quite evident.

  I had no idea that I would react the way I did, but when she said that, something inside of me ached and I burst into tears. Poor Jennifer immediately became confused and just as she opened her mouth to say something, Dorothy, another agent, walked in the door. She looked from Jennifer to me and back again. “Is everything all right?” she asked without even saying good morning to us.

  “Everything is fine, Dorothy,” I managed through my tears, and with that I went into my own office and closed the door. I knew my reaction was hard for Jennifer to understand, but I was so startled at my own tears that I didn’t attempt to straighten things out. What could I say…what was I ready to say? I could hear her softly ask Dorothy “Is it close to the time of year her husband died?” to which Dorothy responded, “No.” Then the telephone rang, and Jennifer was busy again. I tried to get myself together, drying my tears, and turning on my computer. I began locating other houses to show Marshall and Bob. Next, I spoke with a new customer on the telephone, and prepared for my next showing. That kept me busy most of the morning, and it was lunchtime before I came out of my office. I had not allowed myself to consider how I would explain my tears, and instead of dealing with it, I purposely waited until Jennifer had gone on her own lunch break before opening my office door.

  Dorothy’s office door was also open, and I was not disappointed to see she was busy on the phone. I waved good-bye and left. I usually had lunch with one of my associates, but today, I needed to be alone. I drove to the beach, which wasn’t crowded yet because school was still in session, and I parked the car. I made my way across the sand to the flatter part of the beach close to the water, took off my sandals, and began walking barefoot toward the water, looking out to sea. My mind was full of thoughts of Jonathan, Marshall and Bob, Jennifer, and as always, Dick. I needed to think about how I felt and how I was reacting to this new role in my life, being the mother of a gay son. But, I realized, it wasn’t a new part of my life. Jonathan was who he was, and always had been, and I loved my son very much. Patrick had always been a part of my life, Dick’s and my life, and sometimes, we had to defend our friend’s “gayness.” That was when I had started saying, “Some of my favorite people are gay,” as Patrick had quoted me on the phone. I remembered the first time Dick’s mother had met Patrick, along with Marco, Patrick’s flame at the time. She had asked me how long ago Patrick had “turned gay.” I remembered laughing and telling her I supposed Patrick had been born just the way he was; people didn’t turn gay.

  “Well, Mara,” she had said, “do you think it’s a good idea for you and Dick to have a friend like that?”

  “Why wouldn’t it be?” I had asked her. “Patrick’s a wonderful guy, the best friend in the world.” And the conversation had ended there, because my mother-in-law and I never got into verbal disagreements. We had an un
spoken agreement to simply change the subject when an unpleasant air entered our conversations. The thought occurred to me that Jonathan’s grandmother might have a different reaction to his being gay. Hopefully it would not be the same as she had about Patrick all those years ago. Although they didn’t see each other often because we lived far apart, they were very fond of each other. I wondered if we would ever actually have a conversation with her about Jonathan being gay.

  As I walked along the beach, I reflected that Dick might have been attracted to me because I was like his mother in that respect – neither of us would engage in discussions about difficult subjects. As I thought about this, I realized it was one part of my personality that I really wished was different. I admire individuals who never hesitate to speak their mind and can face situations head on, unlike my passive ways. Look at what my passivity had done for me now; my son had needed a mother to talk with and I had failed him. I was feeling very disappointed in myself as I walked along the beach. I had the opportunity to speak up with Jennifer this morning, but I had failed again because of this part of me. It was something I needed to change.

  My tears started to fall again, this time not really unexpectedly, and I stopped walking. I sat down on the sand, facing out to sea, and put my sandals next to me. I drew my knees up to my chest, and pulled the loose, flowered skirt I was wearing over them. Then in an effort, I suppose, to hug myself, I wrapped my arms around my knees, and rocked a little, trying to comfort myself as I looked out at the water. Even as I was filled with sadness, I was aware that the view was magnificent; the sky was azure blue with just a few fluffy white clouds, and the ocean was rather calm today. It reflected the color of the sky. I watched as small ripples of waves gathered just a little momentum as they neared the shore. It was mesmerizing to watch that motion repeat, over and over in the bright sunlight. I sat there for a while and became lost in the motion of the waves and the way the ocean sparkled in the sunlight, and I felt a feeling of peace wash over me. I often felt God’s presence when I took in the amazing beauty of the ocean, and today, I was filled with it. I knew He would be with me as I adjusted to the newly acknowledged part of my life. I’d need a little time to sort things out, but it would all work out. I had already survived the horrible trauma of Dick’s death – because I knew the Lord was always with me - and this was nothing compared to that.

  Like so many times before, my mind floated back to that horrible day. I had been making dinner – a chicken and rice dish that Dick loved, and I haven’t made since - with some ‘help’ from Jonathan, while Gabby, who had just turned ten, was making a good attempt to set the table, when the phone rang. It was a nurse from the hospital’s emergency room, telling me my husband had been in a very bad accident, and I needed to come right away. Very calmly, I had turned off the stove, and took the children next door, to ask Andrea’s mother to watch them while I went to the emergency room. I had driven the five or so miles to the hospital without panic, but as soon as I walked into the emergency room, a feeling of desperation gripped me. It worsened when the receptionist asked my name and came around her desk to put her hand on my arm after I had told her I was there to see Dick. I was brought to his room, but it was too late; he was already gone. I was left alone with his dead body, which already seemed like an empty cocoon.

  Each time I relived that day, my mind went numb, and today was no different. I felt completely detached for a while, and after some time, I came back to myself sitting on the beach. Again, I meditated on the ocean’s rhythm. Once again, the calm feeling enveloped me and I thought, ‘Yes, Lord, if I can survive that, then my latest situation is definitely manageable. Guide me, Lord, on this journey.’ As I sat there a little longer, I was filled with God’s peace, which truly does pass all understanding. I stood up and walked back down the beach, and I felt ready to face what was ahead. Full of resolve, I knew I would learn to deal with the prejudice against gays in the world, and I would do everything I could to help Jonathan, too. I had a strong feeling that my newest clients, Marshall and Bob, might be a larger part of my future than my ordinary clients, and I reflected that ‘ordinary’ wasn’t an appropriate description for either one of them…I mentally pinched myself for that thought, because my sensitivity was already heightened enough to realize that such thoughts were stereotypically heterosexual of me. Maybe it was time for me to realize that there was a world in which Marshall and Bob were ordinary…and Jonathan could become part of that world, too. It saddened me as I became aware that I was thinking in terms of different worlds, one for heterosexuals, and one for homosexuals. It certainly hadn’t felt that way back in college, where Dick, Patrick and I had often been involved in things together. But that was in the safe walls of an academic atmosphere, and that was in my opinion, as a heterosexual. I hurried back to the office so I could “surf the web” in an effort to help Jonathan find the perfect college. One where he would not be threatened …