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“He’s straight,” I say, before remembering that Coral’s son, Dexter, is gay. “Of course, I wouldn’t care if he wasn’t—”
“Yeah, yeah. You can save me the speech. Your annual donations to The Trevor Project and The Ali Forney Center prove you’re an ally.”
“Good. Because I really am.”
“I know,” she says, grabbing her purse from the counter and pulling out her umbrella. “And you’re also a man in denial.” With that last shot, she flips her blonde hair over her shoulder and leaves, closing the door loudly behind her.
***
The next morning in our apartment, Dylan asks when the condominium project will be done.
“It’s hard to say, bud. Why do you ask?”
“Because I’m tired of going back and forth between here and the farmhouse.” He has a frown on his face and looks generally unhappy.
“Oh, really?” I ask. “I thought you liked it there.”
“I used to.” He’s pouting.
Now, it’s my turn to frown. Just yesterday, Dylan was pestering me about heading over there so he could hang out with Mina. “Well, what changed?” I ask.
“You and Mae,” he says defiantly.
I sigh. I knew nothing good would come of a potential relationship between Mae and me. “I told you that I haven’t decided whether or not I want to ask her out yet.”
“But the fact that you’re even considering it worries me,” Dylan admits.
He’s playing with the milk in his cereal, so I pull the bowl away from him.
“Buddy, I am so sorry that my relationship with your mom soured the whole idea of love for you. I’m truly, truly sorry. If I could change that, I would. But I can’t. All I can try to do is help you see a different side of romance. One that isn’t so sad and bleak.”
Dylan glances up at me, then back down at his hands, tapping on the concrete kitchen island. “What if you can’t?”
“Well, who knows? Maybe it won’t work with me.” I glance at the kitchen clock. We’ll need to leave soon if we want to be on time for work and camp, but this conversation is too important to push off. “But look at Coral and Seamus. They’ve been happily married for forever.”
“You never know what goes on behind closed doors.”
My goodness, this kid is dark.
“I suppose that’s true,” I agree. “But we lived with them briefly after your mom left. Don’t you remember that?”
“Yeah,” Dylan says. He’s playing with the string on his hoodie now. I know this conversation must be uncomfortable, but I can’t let him continue living his life without believing in love.
“And did you ever hear or see them disrespecting each other?” I ask.
“No. But maybe they were on their best behavior because they had company.”
“Dude,” I say, exasperated. It’s like the kid wants me to be wrong. “They had a newborn. Coming from experience, that is when you are the most tempted to rip into your partner. You can’t help it due to the lack of sleep, the initial dependence, the fear of simply keeping the baby alive…” I trail off. Anna might not be a great parent now, but she was a champ back in those first couple of months. She doted on Dylan.
“I guess,” Dylan shrugs.
“Plus, I’ve known them for years,” I add. “Now, I’m not saying they’re the perfect couple because that just isn’t reality. But they support each other and build each other up. That’s what a good partnership looks like.”
“But you have me to do that for you. You don’t need a woman.”
“Um, ring-ring. Hello?” I mime picking up a telephone and then hold the imaginary receiver out to my son. “Oh, Dyl, it’s for you. Those dirty magazines I found under your bed are calling.”
“Dad!” Dylan yells at me, his face turning as red as a tomato.
