“You don’t regret it?”
“No. I had nothing to say to him and I didn’t want to hear anything he had to say.”
“Right.”
“But I did miss him after he died,” he said, surprising Carver further.
“Really?”
Doug shrugged. “I’ve hated seeing him in you, I’ll admit. But after he died, I almost feel — it felt… Hmm.” He knit his brow. “This is like trying to describe a dream. After he died, things got harder with you, for both of us. I’m not sure why. I’d hoped for the opposite — abatementab initio. And seeing him in you felt even more complicated after that. But sometimes, I suppose, it was nice to be able to see him again.”
Carver’s throat grew tight again. It felt like he’d had a lump in his throat for most of the last few hours.
“They made a mistake,” Doug said. “But I made the same mistake. You know?”
“Yeah,” Carver said. “Mom didn’t tell me you had an affair too.”
“Well, she’s very loyal to me now,” Doug said. “I earned it, I guess.”
So Nora felt indebted to him. Of course. This explained a lot.
“I know how it sounds, but all this ended up bringing us closer,” Doug added. “Marriages are complicated, so don’t be so quick to give up on yours.”
“It’s different, Dad.” Carver went apprehensively quiet for a moment, then threw caution to the wind and said, “I’m pretty sure I’m gay.”
Doug squinted at him in a manner so fuddy-duddy that it instantly aged him twenty years. “You keep saying that tonight,” he said, “completely out of nowhere. It’s baffling to me.”
“Sorry to baffle.”
“I don’t think it’s correct, more to the point.”
“Well, that’s your prerogative, I guess.”
Doug leaned over, placing his elbows on the desk. “I just don’t want you to throw away your marriage in an emotional moment.”
“I thought you thought Lillian was dragging me around by the nose.”
“I wanted you tofixthat. A marriage is like a team of horses, both of you have to pull in the same direction. If one horse opts out, the other one picks the direction. It’s not like being single — if you collapse you’ll get dragged.”
“Okay,” Carver said, picking at the Band-Aid on his left palm. “What if one horse is gay?”
Doug sighed.
“I just think my, uh… interactions with men have been genuine, and my interactions with women have been more performative.”
“But how can you tell?” Doug said. “Maybe it feels performative because we put too much pressure on you, because you had some effeminate tendencies and we were worried. Maybe we went too far and convinced you you’re gay. Maybe you just have OCD.”
“Dad, I don’t — just because one choice you made as parents backfired doesn’t mean my entire life is one big backfire. You were worried about me being gay because I was gay. You’re trying to convince me I’m not gay now because you’re still worried about me being gay.”
“I’m not a homophobe,” Doug insisted.
“I know,” Carver said, though he knew both of his parents were at least somewhat homophobic, despite all their protests.
His dad was always anxious about being seen as bigoted because he thought it was gauche and low-class — evidence of his upbringing in eastern Ohio. Of course, hewaskind of bigoted, due largely to his upbringing in eastern Ohio. He had taken many cues from Nora’s parents, moderately wealthy Connecticut WASPs who liked to put on airs.
“I just don’t want you to rush into and out of things,” Doug said.
“I gave it a shot, Dad. I really tried. I gave a lot of my life to that woman, okay? We cared for each other and stood by each other, but the jig is up, I just don’t think I can do it anymore. I put eleven years into it.” He felt like he was justifying himself to his manager during an exit interview.
