“Hello, young man, I’m Simon’s father. It’s very nice to meet you.”
“Well, hello, Simon’s father. My name is Hector, and I think the world of your son. He is a good egg, and I try to look out for him whenever I can. He reminds me so much of my younger brother, Carlos.”
“Thank you, Hector. I’m happy to hear that. I’m recently discovering there are all kinds of people in my son’s life who are taking good care of him. I, um, haven’t always been the best father, but I am trying to do better, and I want to be a part of his life. I want to meet all his friends.”
“Fantastic, Mr. Bugg. It’s great to meet you.”
“Call me Daniel.”
“All right, enough already,” I say. “This is awkward and weird. Hector, we’re going to hang out and talk for a bit. I’ll text you later, okay? Say hi to Jamal for me.”
Hector waves and goes back to making drinks. Dad orders a cappuccino, an egg salad sandwich, and a slice of coffee cake. I get my usual green iced tea and a chocolate chip cookie.
“A cookie is not much of a lunch,” he says, taking the last empty table.
“I told you, I’m not hungry,” I say.
“Okay. Let’s see… Your friend, Hector, seems like a nice young man. How did you meet him?”
Crap. How the hell do I answer this question? I can’t possibly tell him the truth—that I met Hector skipping school. I don’t want to tell Dad that he helped me come out and now coaches me on practicing safe sex. Or that he will give me condoms if I need them.
“Um, you know, friend of a friend,” I say.
“Who is Jamal?”
“He is Hector’s boyfriend,” I say.
“Oh,” Dad says. He nervously fiddles with the sleeve on his cup, keeping his eyes on the table. I stare at him, and a twinge of empathy surprises me. I suppose he is trying in his own way, and maybe I’m being too much of a hard ass on him. Maybe I should lighten up.
“Dad.” I put my hand on his arm, and he looks up. “What did you want to talk about?”
“Well, a few things, but first, I want to apologize to you for walking out on you last Saturday. I shouldn’t have done that.”
Whoa, I’m not expecting to hear this. “I assumed you were upset that I turned out to be gay like Mom.”
“Absolutely not! Don’t say that,” Dad says firmly, looking me in the eye. “Nothing could be further from the truth.”
I slowly sip my tea and ponder his words. “So why did you basically ignore me all week? Why didn’t you want to meet PJ? He was at the funeral, you know, and he sat shiva with us the entire time. This doesn’t make a lot of sense, Dad.”
He takes my hands in his and pumps them up and down. “Listen to me,” he says. “I’m not upset you’re gay. I’m embarrassed by how much of your life I’ve missed out on. I didn’t know you’d come out, and I had no idea you had a boyfriend. I’m ashamed of the way I’ve behaved over the past ten years. I haven’t been much of a father to you.”
Wow! This is an unexpected bombshell. I quickly pull my hands from his, sit back in my chair, and stare, open-mouthed, while he talks.
“Simon, I suspected you were gay when you were just a kid. I didn’t care then, and I don’t care now. You’re my son, and I love you. It doesn’t matter if you’re gay, straight or whatever it is kids are these days. I’m also smart enough to know this has nothing to do with your mother. She didn’t turn you gay; I know it doesn’t work that way. I did hold some resentment over your mother keeping her sexuality from me, but that doesn’t concern you. Can I tell you something else?”
Tears form in the corners of my eyes, and I slowly nod.
“Your mother called me. The night you came out, the night before her accident, she called me on the phone from her bedroom. She said you, a friend, and Carole were watching a movie in the living room and that you had just come out to them. She said she had no clue you were gay, and she was taken aback by this. So, she called me to ask me if I knew. I told her it was something I had always suspected, but I was waiting for you to figure it out in your own time.”
Dad gets teary too, and pulls a handkerchief from his pocket. He dabs at his eyes, sits up straighter, and clears his throat.
“Your mom and I had a great talk late that night. I’m so grateful for that conversation. How could I have known it would be the last time I would ever speak to her? We must have talked for a good hour. We healed so many old wounds in that conversation. Mostly, we talked about what a great kid you are and how we did that. She and I. That will always be something your mom and I did together. There would be no Simon Bugg without us. We will always have that, your mother and me. We created you, and for that, I’m forever grateful.”
Dad and I start ugly-crying and I’m afraid everyone at Starbucks will stare. So, I wave goodbye to Hector, and as we take our drinks outside, it starts to drizzle as if the whole world is crying with us. We rush to the car to get out of the intensifying rain. I shiver from the cold and wet. I wipe away rain and tears with my jacket sleeve and turn to Dad.
“You know, I think I am hungry now. Is the offer for lunch still on the table?”
“Absolutely,” he says, smiling. “Where would you like to go? Someplace special?”
