Lori. My partner at the Association for the Acceptance of Lesbian and Gay Youth, as wel as in life.”
They were the women from the group Al en funded in his wil .
Lori shifted uncomfortably. “Huh,” she said by way of greeting.
May put her hand on my shoulder. “I’m so sorry for your loss. I could tel you and Al en were close. The way he spoke about you in that video—it was obvious he cared. You must have been very special to him.”
Had anyone talked to me with compassion about Al en’s death, I wondered? I found myself tearing up.
“Thanks,” I said. “He was a very good man.”
“He was obviously a big fan of yours,” I said. “Of your work.”
“Yes,” May said. “I think the plight of queer youth real y touched him. After al he had been through.
And his son of course.”
This was new. “His son?”
“Wel , you know he didn’t have much contact with either of his children, right?”
“None,” I said.
“Right. Stil , he kept track of them. Tried to be involved. He told me that he thought one of them might be gay, but that he had gotten married anyway.
It made him so sad to think that his son might be making the same mistake he had.”
The only one of the sons who was married was Paul. “Did he say what made him think that?” Lori, or as I would always think of her, The Wal , cleared her throat. “We r-r-real y have to go, May.” For such a big girl, her voice was soft and breathless. You could see how shy she was, too, as she continued to regard her shoes as if they were the most interesting things on Earth. I always wondered what quiet people like her did with al their feelings.
“One minute,” May responded. She gave Lori a reassuring pat on the back. I wondered if Lori wasn’t a bit impaired. May turned back to me.
“No, he never said.”
Freddy thought Paul seemed a little light in the loafers, too. Although I wasn’t sure what difference it made.
We stood awkwardly for a moment. “So, do you work here?” May asked me.
I explained that I was a volunteer.
“That’s wonderful,” May enthused. “Good for you.”
“Hey,” I said, “maybe I could do some work with you guys,” I offered. “Kind of a way to honor Al en’s memory.”
Lori and May looked at each other. “We’re not real y set up for that,” May said.
“Wel , let me know if I can help. Do you have a card or something?”
“Not yet,” May smiled. “That’s what Al en was helping us with. Infrastructure costs. We’re kind of a start-up. Al en had been looking to build an organization that catered specifical y to the needs of sexual minority youth, and he was very impressed by some of the work Lori and I had been doing with homeless teens. But maybe I could take one of yours?”
Not surprisingly, I didn’t have any business cards.
What would they say: “Kevin Connor, Male Prostitute?” I wrote my number on the back of a safer-sex flyer hanging in the hal way.
I wanted to talk to them some more, just in case they might have known something about Al en that would have helped me understand what had happened to him, but I real y didn’t know what to ask.
I also had to go run my lunch shift. But there was one last thing I wanted to ask them.
“Listen, everyone tel s me I’m crazy,” I said, “but I just don’t believe Al en would have kil ed himself. Do you?”
May shook her head. “I’ve been saying the same thing to Lori since it happened. He was very involved with us in the formation of the Association. We spoke every day. He went over our books, he helped us develop grant applications, he even introduced us to other potential major donors. Al en lived passionately. I think it must have been some terrible kind of accident. I just can’t believe he’d take his own life.”
For the first time since I’d bumped into her, Lori looked up. I was struck by just how pretty her features were. “You d-d-don’t know,” she said quietly. I recal ed that she stuttered at the
They were the women from the group Al en funded in his wil .
Lori shifted uncomfortably. “Huh,” she said by way of greeting.
May put her hand on my shoulder. “I’m so sorry for your loss. I could tel you and Al en were close. The way he spoke about you in that video—it was obvious he cared. You must have been very special to him.”
Had anyone talked to me with compassion about Al en’s death, I wondered? I found myself tearing up.
“Thanks,” I said. “He was a very good man.”
“He was obviously a big fan of yours,” I said. “Of your work.”
“Yes,” May said. “I think the plight of queer youth real y touched him. After al he had been through.
And his son of course.”
This was new. “His son?”
“Wel , you know he didn’t have much contact with either of his children, right?”
“None,” I said.
“Right. Stil , he kept track of them. Tried to be involved. He told me that he thought one of them might be gay, but that he had gotten married anyway.
It made him so sad to think that his son might be making the same mistake he had.”
The only one of the sons who was married was Paul. “Did he say what made him think that?” Lori, or as I would always think of her, The Wal , cleared her throat. “We r-r-real y have to go, May.” For such a big girl, her voice was soft and breathless. You could see how shy she was, too, as she continued to regard her shoes as if they were the most interesting things on Earth. I always wondered what quiet people like her did with al their feelings.
“One minute,” May responded. She gave Lori a reassuring pat on the back. I wondered if Lori wasn’t a bit impaired. May turned back to me.
“No, he never said.”
Freddy thought Paul seemed a little light in the loafers, too. Although I wasn’t sure what difference it made.
We stood awkwardly for a moment. “So, do you work here?” May asked me.
I explained that I was a volunteer.
“That’s wonderful,” May enthused. “Good for you.”
“Hey,” I said, “maybe I could do some work with you guys,” I offered. “Kind of a way to honor Al en’s memory.”
Lori and May looked at each other. “We’re not real y set up for that,” May said.
“Wel , let me know if I can help. Do you have a card or something?”
“Not yet,” May smiled. “That’s what Al en was helping us with. Infrastructure costs. We’re kind of a start-up. Al en had been looking to build an organization that catered specifical y to the needs of sexual minority youth, and he was very impressed by some of the work Lori and I had been doing with homeless teens. But maybe I could take one of yours?”
Not surprisingly, I didn’t have any business cards.
What would they say: “Kevin Connor, Male Prostitute?” I wrote my number on the back of a safer-sex flyer hanging in the hal way.
I wanted to talk to them some more, just in case they might have known something about Al en that would have helped me understand what had happened to him, but I real y didn’t know what to ask.
I also had to go run my lunch shift. But there was one last thing I wanted to ask them.
“Listen, everyone tel s me I’m crazy,” I said, “but I just don’t believe Al en would have kil ed himself. Do you?”
May shook her head. “I’ve been saying the same thing to Lori since it happened. He was very involved with us in the formation of the Association. We spoke every day. He went over our books, he helped us develop grant applications, he even introduced us to other potential major donors. Al en lived passionately. I think it must have been some terrible kind of accident. I just can’t believe he’d take his own life.”
For the first time since I’d bumped into her, Lori looked up. I was struck by just how pretty her features were. “You d-d-don’t know,” she said quietly. I recal ed that she stuttered at the
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