Chapter 26
Gordon
I can’t lose you. Before that happens, I’d marry you. Two days after that conversation with Beau which had stunned me, I was still mulling over my words. They held an interest for me because the more I thought about it, the more I realized that a part of me was serious. If Jackson fired Beau, I would marry him the next day for him to avoid having to return to France. My need to be around him and keep that little piece of happiness I’d found with him, would rival any fears I still harbored about being outed.
In the kitchen, preparing the meal so I could share dinner with my two kids tonight, I thought about what it would be like for Beau to be around. I imagined him sitting at the table, drinking beer while I prepared the meal. That was our routine back at his place when we worked up an appetite during the nights. He’d sit, prop his feet up, tell me about his day, and I listened while I made us sandwiches or a salad. Mostly both together.
I frowned as I thought of how Ollie would react if I invited Beau over for dinner. He would probably shut himself inside his bedroom and not come out until Beau had left. I still couldn’t fathom that my son was struggling with his identity and I didn’t know. I’d finally listened to Beau’s advice, hence the elaborate dinner I had mustered up tonight. I was taking one giant leap to open up to my son about my struggles as a gay teen. Hopefully, after I spoke with him, he would learn from my own mistakes and not repeat them. I wished someone would have counseled me twenty-one years ago to be true to myself.
“Dad, need any help?” Charlie breezed into the kitchen, in high spirits. Thank God for her. Without her, the house would have been a mausoleum of thoughts and unspoken fears. It was surprising that this child, who had been the most broken and withdrawn after her mother’s death, was now the one who brought solace with her.
“Can you set the table, please?” I asked her. “I’ve already laid out the utensils.”
She frowned at me. “Are we expecting company?”
“Nope. Just us. Why?”
She shrugged. “You’re going through all this effort.” She paused then added, “And I know you’re seeing someone.”
Once upon a time, hearing those words coming from her mouth would have caused me to drop the dish I was holding. I retained a firm grip on the container and smiled at her. That was when I knew I was ready to do this. I was prepared to confide in my kids. They wouldn’t be like Eric. They knew how much I loved them, and they would understand. They had to understand. I could see myself sharing my first beer with Ollie at the end of dinner and enlightening him. This could be the catalyst that would heal our relationship. I hoped.
“Well, are you going to tell me about her?” Charlie asked, frowning even harder.
“After dinner,” I replied, not bothering to pretend I didn’t know what she was talking about. “Go set the table, then ask your brother to come down.”
I could see from the mutinous line of her mouth that she wanted to argue, but in the end, she turned and did what I asked. I finished up the meal and retrieved the roasted chicken and garlic bread which were warming in the oven. Charlie wasn’t in the dining room when I brought out the platters, but she had done a splendid job with the table. I had just laid out everything when I heard her dismounting the stairs.
“I don’t think Ollie will be joining us,” she said quietly, entering the dining room.
I glanced up at her. “He said that?”
She nodded. “I think he’s more disappointed about not graduating than he lets on.”
“Let me go talk to him.”
I mounted the stairs, taking them two at a time, but when I reached his bedroom, I paused to give myself some time to think. The last thing I wanted to do was to approach him in a confrontational manner. If there was anything I’d learned in these past eight months of dealing with him, it was that confrontational didn’t work with him. It was a sure way to come to loggerheads with him.
I knocked on the door. “Ollie?” When he didn’t respond, I considered it well within my rights to enter. I pushed the door half-open and stood just inside. He was sitting at his computer desk playing a car racing game.
“I already told Charlie I’m not hungry,” he said without even looking up. “I’ll eat something later.”
“Son, I’d appreciate it if you come downstairs and we have dinner together,” I told him, then stressed, “As a family. We haven’t done that in a while. Not since your mother passed.”
His back stiffened, ramrod straight. “Why don’t you say it? She didn’t just pass. She committed suicide because she couldn’t stand us. How dare we try to go on without her?”
I was too stunned to respond at the same time. Was he being sarcastic? It sounded like it, but I could never tell when he was always downright rude. He had never spoken poorly of his mother though, so that was enough to give me pause. He had loved his mother, and they had been close. He would have been more likely to tell Barbara he was gay instead of me.
The color drained from my face, and a shiver ran down my spine. Had he told her, and her unfavorable response had contributed to the boy who now sat before me? The memory of the night Ollie had come home drunk, in tears, broken and irrational hit me in the gut.
“No! It’s not. She’s dead. She won’t come back. She’s dead and it’s all my fault. It’s my fault she’s gone. I’m sorry.”
At the time, I had thought his ramblings to be that of a drunk, but what if that night he had been trying to tell me something more? Had I failed to listen once again?
“Ollie, please.” I wasn’t beyond begging. For God’s sake, this was my son. What kind of reconciliation could there be between us if we couldn’t even have a few minutes together at the dinner table? “I want you to sit with us. Charlie wants that too. It’s time we started acting like a family again. We’ll be waiting for you to join us.”
I sighed when he didn’t respond but kept staring at the screen of his computer. I could rant at him, march over to shut down his computer and demand that he descended the stairs. I could even physically ensure that he had his ass on one of the chairs around the table but what would that solve? Nothing. He had to come to us on his own.
I rejoined Charlie who had taken a seat at the table. She glanced up when she saw me enter. “Is he coming down?”
“Yes, he will.” I tried to sound confident, but my voice was more questioning. Charlie insisted on sharing, and that was all for the best since I was disoriented. After dishing out the three plates, Charlie took her seat, and we waited. Time passed and still no Ollie. Disappointment coursed through me and I admitted defeat. Save returning upstairs and dragging Ollie down, he pretty much had made himself clear.
“Let’s eat,” I told Charlie, intent on not making this all about Ollie. I’d made that mistake once already, giving my son all the attention because he was always in trouble. Charlie had suffered for it and had become a shell of her former self. Not again.
Still, every morsel of food that I forked into my mouth was tasteless. I had to work hard in chewing and swallowing, activities that should come across as second nature. Ollie’s dish across from me at the table mocked me. I had lost my son and had no idea if, at this stage, I could have done anything to get him back.
I was so caught up in my thoughts I didn’t hear the footsteps coming down the stairs at first.
“Dad!” Charlie said, her eyes twinkling with relief.
Ollie had changed his mind.
I half-rose from my seat to acknowledge him when he entered the dining room.
“You’re such a fucking liar!” he screeched, waving his hand at me. “How could you do this? You’ve been lying to us our whole lives!”
Between him swearing at me and the anger in him, I had no idea what to think. “Ollie, what are you going on about?”
“I’m talking about you fucking Charlie’s French teacher?” He spun to face Charlie whose mouth had fallen open. “That’s right, sis. That’s what dear dad has been doing all these nights he’s been disappearing.”
“I don’t understand,” Charlie said bewildered. She looked horrified at the thought. “Dad, that’s not true. Right?”
“He’s fucking gay, Charlie! I should have known. That’s why mom acted the way she did when I told her I was gay. You gave me what you got. You’re the reason I’m gay.”
The pieces of the puzzle were now beginning to fall into place. “Don’t be ridiculous, Ollie. Being gay isn’t hereditary. If you’re gay that’s just who you are. There’s no shame in it.”
“Then why did you hide it from us?” He shook his head. “No, save it. I don’t want to hear. I’ll never forgive you for the way you lied to us.”
It was just as Beau had predicted would happen if the kids found out before I told them the truth. How was I to get him to listen to me when he was this mad and fuming?
“Let me explain to you, Ollie.”
“It’s true then?” Charlie asked, her soft inquiring tone even more impactful than Ollie’s bellows. Her face had gone white, and the fork she held remained poised in mid-air, forgotten.
My heart was pounding in my chest as I stared from one child to another. One furious and the other uncertain. Whatever my answer was, they would not be satisfied, but it was time to stop hiding behind the lies and pretenses I’d built for so long.
“Yes, it’s true,” I answered. “But Ollie, it’s not as easy as you may think. I don’t know how you found out, but I grew up in a different time than now. I didn’t know anybody around who was gay when I was in high school. Things may not be perfect now, but it’s different, and you absolutely should be happy with who you are.”
“How can I be happy with who I am?” he demanded, so angry he was shaking. “You never taught me to accept myself. The only thing you taught me about who I am is shame because you’ve been ashamed to admit you’re gay. You’re a fucking hypocrite.”
I cracked under the pressure. “I understand you are upset Ollie, but I still am your father, and I will not have you speak to me this way.”
“You are not my father!” he spat at me, walking backward. “I don’t know anything about you. I don’t even know who you are.”
“That’s not true. I’m not any different than who I was before.”
He shook his head, tears starting to roll down his face. “For a year, I blamed myself for mom’s death. I told myself it was my fault. I told her I was gay just before we left for New Orleans and she was mad and crying, begging me to change and not disappoint her. Then she killed herself while we were away. Because it’s my fault, do you know what I did? I tried dating girls, hoping somewhere, wherever she is, she will know I tried to do the right thing. For her. I hated myself for the way I was. I was scared to tell you because I always saw you as-as a man.”
“I’m no less a man because I am gay,” I answered, frustrated because I couldn’t seem to find the right words. “You’re no less a man because you’re gay. Your mother was wrong for saying those things to you and guilt-tripping you into being what she wanted. Take it from me, son. It’s never a good idea to date someone to please others. Be with who you want to be with because they make you happy and for no other reason.”
“It’s a little too late now for the pep talk.” He stalked out of the living room, and when I would have gone after him, Charlie stopped me.
“Mr. Moreau?” she asked, still in disbelief. “You’ve been going out with my French teacher the whole time?”
I winced at the front door of the house which slammed shut. I hadn’t even had the opportunity to ask Ollie how he had found out and now he was gone. Maybe it was for the best for him to cool off. When he returned, I could try that talk on him again.
“Charlie, I’m- I’m in love with him,” I answered, slumping back into my chair. “I didn’t know he was your French teacher when we just met.”
“But my teacher?” she gasped, rising from her seat. “And what happened to your promise to tell me if you had a serious relationship? Or is being in love not considered serious to you? How could you do this to us? It’s embarrassing!”
My phone rang, and I fished it out of my pocket to check the caller ID. It was Beau calling me. I wanted to answer the phone, but Charlie was staring at me suspiciously. I’d seen her in tears. I’d seen her sad, but I’d never seen her this angry before.
“It’s Mr. Moreau, isn’t it?”
I nodded. The lies had to stop at some point. I couldn’t protect them from the truth anymore. Why should they need protecting anyway because I was gay? “But I’m not going to take it. We need to finish our conversation.”
“It’s done. I don’t even know what to say to you. I’m so confused. How can you be gay? You were married to mom.”
“She got pregnant, and I couldn’t allow her to bear the pressure of raising Ollie on her own,” I answered. “It was the right thing to do at the time. We lived in a different era, Charlie.”
“So Ollie was a mistake?” she demanded. “So that makes me what? Another accident?”
I couldn’t answer. Charlie had been a result of one drunken night when I’d been so down and lonely I hadn’t been able to resist the companionship of Barbara.
“The circumstance surrounding your birth hardly matters,” I said to her. “What matters is that we both loved you from the very second we found out about you. Nothing will ever change that.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Charlie, don’t say that.”
She ignored me and ran from the dining room. I stared after her departing back, torn between going after her and giving her the time she needed to process everything. In the stillness of the kitchen my phone, which had rung off before, started its annoying ringing again. I would have thrown it in the wall, but I caught Beau’s name flashing across the screen again. What did he want?
“Beau, now’s not the time,” I answered. “I’ll call you sometime. As soon as things settle down.”
“No. No, Gordon. Don’t hang up. I’ve—”
“I can’t do this right now, Beau. I said I’ll call you when I can.”
I hung up the phone and slumped in the chair, trying to figure out where to go from here. If my kids didn’t agree with me dating Beau, could I dismiss what I felt for him to please them? They shouldn’t have to make me choose between them and Beau. They weren’t little kids anymore. They understood relationships and love.
My phone beeped, announcing a message had come in. Beau again. He’d sent me a link in a message. Since my phone showed the message content on the screen even when the phone was locked, I could read it.
Please, click the link. Call me when you can.
Wondering what was so urgent that he didn’t understand I couldn’t handle our relationship right now, I unlocked the phone and tapped the link. I almost deleted the message when the link sent me to a popular video sharing website. I doubted the app was ever used on my phone before. Before I could clear the screen though, the video started playing.
Shock rooted me to the chair as I watched myself on the video with Beau. The audio was poor, so the words spoken between us were too low to pick up on video. Based on the angle of the video and the long stretch between the cameraman and the stage, the person who had recorded us was standing just at the entrance of the room.
The horror I felt gave way to intrigue as I watched the way I smiled at Beau. I’d never seen myself reflected like this before. I was happy. Watching the kiss jerked me back to the issue at hand. I felt violated that someone had stood there, watching us, and videoing us. The person had even gone so far as to upload it to the video app.
I immediately rang Beau.
“I’m sorry. This is all my fault,” were the first words out of his mouth.
“It’s not,” I answered. “But this explains why Ollie just stormed out of here after calling me a fucking liar.”
“You mean you didn’t tell him?”
“I planned to do it tonight, but the video showed up before I had the chance.”
“This is a disaster!” he exclaimed.
“But this app is worldwide,” I answered. “How many people will see it?”
“It’s not just posted to the site. It’s being sent around from one student to another.”
And someone had sent it to Ollie. “Shit.” I had to talk to Charlie before she got exposed to it.
“Babe, do you want me to do anything?” Beau asked.
“Like what? Can you go back and make this all go away? Unless the answer is yes, I don’t see what you can do.”
“I was just trying to help.”
I closed my eyes and ran my hand over my face. “I’m sorry,” I groaned. “I didn’t mean to snap at you, but the pressure I’m feeling now is hard.”
“I know, but you don’t have to do it alone.”
“Actually, this I have to do on my own,” I told him. “I’ve to go.”
“Call me if you need anything. I love you, Gordon.”
He had said the words to me before, but they meant more to me hearing them now. He hung up before I could respond, and I slipped the phone into my pocket. It was time for me to man up and talk to both my kids openly about my relationship with Beau. They needed to understand why it would be unlikely for them to have another mother, but they might end up with two fathers. Even if that man wasn’t Beau, but I sure damn hoped it was him.
I trudged up the stairs and to Charlie’s room. I knocked on the door. “Charlie, can I come in?”
“I don’t want to talk to you,” came her muffled voice.
Rather than leaving, which would have been the easy way out, I turned the knob to let myself in. She sat on the bed, her phone in her hands and her face pale. I closed my eyes, hearing the sounds of the video I had just been watching of Beau and me kissing.
“I’m sorry,” I told her because I didn’t know what else to say. “I’m sorry you had to find out this way.”
She shook her head, tears streaming down her face. “I don’t understand it. You were with mom. How could you be kissing Mr. Moreau?”
“Oh honey, life’s a lot complicated,” I remarked, moving closer to the bed. “I wanted to tell you so many times but was afraid of this reaction.”
She looked up from her phone. “Did you love mom?”
I nodded. “Yes, I loved her, but it’s in a different way than I feel about Beau.”
“So now you love him? Mr. Moreau?”
I swallowed hard and tried to reach for her hand, but she pulled it away. I’d never been so hurt in all my life by her action. “Yes, I love him,” I answered honestly. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I can’t help who I fall in love with, Charlie any more than I can help being gay. If I could, I would have. I did try. I swear I did try.”
“Will you still see him?” she demanded.
My eyes widened in shock. “Charlie?” I hesitated, not knowing how to answer. I didn’t want to lose Beau, but how could I hold onto him if my children weren’t okay with our relationship. They needed me.
“So will you?” she persisted.
“I want to,” I answered. “But if it’s something you feel you couldn’t accept, then no, I won’t—” my voice cracked then. “Then I won’t see him again.”