“Well, thank you. That is nice to hear. I just feel like, in every way I can measure myself against Mom and Dad at this age, I suffer by comparison. Which does get to me, sometimes.”
Carver blew out smoke. “You know about the affair and you’re still saying that?”
“Yes!” She let out an incredulous-sounding laugh. “I mean, that’s marriage goals, right? To be able to make it past something like that together? I don’t feel like that exists anymore.”
“It’s just rare, it was always rare, and people have more options than they used to. But you can still make it work.”
“You say this, but you’re literally getting divorced.”
“Because I’m gay,” Carver said, feeling stoned, and she laughed again. “No, really.”
“I know,” Conway said. “I know. It’s just to hear it out loud from you is so jarring.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean. It feels good, though. Like now that I’ve started saying it, I can’t stop saying it.”
“Good, I think you should say it,” Conway said.
He twiddled the joint in his fingers and handed it back to her. “Did you always know?”
“Not until I got older and started hanging out with gay guys. Remember when you visited me at UMD my senior year, and you took me and a few of my friends out to dinner? After you left, Gavin told me he thought you were gay or at least bi. I just told myself you were probably bi.”
Carver remembered the dinner, but not Gavin. “What made him say that?” he said, feeling self-conscious and taking a handful of chips.
She shrugged. “He didn’t say. But I always thought you and Lillian worked, in your own weird way.”
“I guess we did ‘til we didn’t.”
She blew out smoke and stubbed the much-diminished joint out on the arm of the porch swing. “I know this probably isn’t comforting, but I’ve never even hadthat.”
Carver shook his head. “I don’t get this at all. You’re beautiful and sweet and smart. Are you looking for guys in the dumpster, or something?”
Conway giggled.
“I’m serious, where are you finding these guys?”
“Through the apps, or through my friends, or in bars, or whatever. But it’s bleak out there, seriously. And it’s hard for tall girls.”
“What? You’re not even that tall, you’re my height. You’re Lillian’s height. Are you trying to date midgets?”
“Midget is problematic to say.”
“Sorry. I work on Wall Street. How short are these guys?”
“Height isn’t the thing, okay? It’s just one thing. It’s like…” Conway trailed off. “I don’t know, a lot of guys are just mean. My last boyfriend was covertly mean, I didn’t even realize how mean until we were breaking up.”
“I think some guys just have something wrong with them. They hate themselves, that’s all.”
“Right, but where do you find guys who don’t hate themselves?”
“I don’t know. The soup kitchen? Like, volunteering?”
She laughed. “Maybe, yeah.”
“Did you get a chance to talk things out with Mom?”
“What do you think?”
“No?”
