grows smaller, less significant, for you learn that none of us is perfect, that human nature is flawed, that life twists and turns in all sorts of unexpected ways and it is okay to end up in a different place to where you expected.
In Daniel’s case the secret is like a tumor, growing larger and firmer deep inside him, refusing to go away by itself, refusing to lie dormant, metastasizing last month when he got a phone call from Steve. Steve, whom he hasn’t seen since his wedding day. Steve, whom he has tried very hard to forget.
“I’m in your neck of the woods.” Steve’s voice was so familiar, but different. “It’s been so long but I thought I’d look you up.”
“It has been years.” Daniel laughed. “How great to hear from you. How’ve you been?”
“Life’s been good,” Steve said. “So how about it? Drinks? Dinner? I’d love to see Bee and I hear you’ve got two beautiful girls.”
Steve came for dinner. Bee made loin of pork stuffed with apricots and prosciutto, and Steve brought two bottles of Pinot Noir.
As soon as he walked in, Daniel knew. Steve hadn’t run with fear from the life that had been calling him for years, Steve hadn’t pretended to be someone he wasn’t. Steve had struggled with it, and then had given in.
“These are our dogs—” he passed photos around as they sat at the table, the girls having gone off to bed—“Mimi and Bobo.” Small Westies sat on the doorstep of a beautiful colonial house. “And this is Richard.” An older, bearded man, smiling on the deck of a boat. “My partner,” he added, although he didn’t need to.
“Not husband?” Bee rescued Daniel from his crippling awkwardness, his heart pounding fast, color rising to his cheeks.
“Not legal in our state, sadly,” Steve said. “But one day we will. We’ve been together almost ten years. The love of my life.” And he looked up and caught Daniel’s eye, and this time Daniel felt shame for a different reason. He felt shame for not being brave enough to do what Steve had done, and envy—oh God, so much envy for Steve having the life that all of a sudden Daniel realized he had always wanted.
They went out after dinner for a drink at the bar at Tavern on Main. Daniel recalled seeing Brokeback Mountain, looking longingly at the characters played by Jake Gyllenhaal and Heath Ledger embracing furiously at their reunion, and he parked the car on Main Street, hoping that that might happen for him, that Steve would grab him and take him into an alley.
Brokeback Mountain. He had seen it with Bee, then seen it by himself. Six times. He had sought out gay films, gay literature, programs on television with a gay bent, glazing over at the love scenes, trying to reassure himself that he was turned on just because it was sex, not because it involved two men.
Perhaps he was bisexual, he had started to think, but then he would lie in bed at home and watch Bee, so feminine and womanly, her breasts so full, her secrets and wetness so utterly repellent to him that he almost shuddered at the thought of her.
“I am lucky,” Steve said, nursing a beer as they sat at a quiet corner table. “Lucky because you changed my life, you made me see that I wasn’t being honest, and I couldn’t carry on living a lie. I have meant to thank you many, many times, but it has been so many years, and I guess life just got in the way. So how are you? How has life been for you?”
With hindsight it would have been so easy for Daniel to open the floodgates, to let it all come pouring out, and who better to talk to than Steve? But he found he couldn’t, couldn’t admit that he was living the very lie Steve was talking about, had lived it for years, had almost, almost accepted it, until Steve had phoned out of the blue, had turned up to show him what his life could have been had he been brave enough to embrace his true self.
“I’m great,” he lied that night. “Couldn’t be better. I adore my girls, and seem to be
In Daniel’s case the secret is like a tumor, growing larger and firmer deep inside him, refusing to go away by itself, refusing to lie dormant, metastasizing last month when he got a phone call from Steve. Steve, whom he hasn’t seen since his wedding day. Steve, whom he has tried very hard to forget.
“I’m in your neck of the woods.” Steve’s voice was so familiar, but different. “It’s been so long but I thought I’d look you up.”
“It has been years.” Daniel laughed. “How great to hear from you. How’ve you been?”
“Life’s been good,” Steve said. “So how about it? Drinks? Dinner? I’d love to see Bee and I hear you’ve got two beautiful girls.”
Steve came for dinner. Bee made loin of pork stuffed with apricots and prosciutto, and Steve brought two bottles of Pinot Noir.
As soon as he walked in, Daniel knew. Steve hadn’t run with fear from the life that had been calling him for years, Steve hadn’t pretended to be someone he wasn’t. Steve had struggled with it, and then had given in.
“These are our dogs—” he passed photos around as they sat at the table, the girls having gone off to bed—“Mimi and Bobo.” Small Westies sat on the doorstep of a beautiful colonial house. “And this is Richard.” An older, bearded man, smiling on the deck of a boat. “My partner,” he added, although he didn’t need to.
“Not husband?” Bee rescued Daniel from his crippling awkwardness, his heart pounding fast, color rising to his cheeks.
“Not legal in our state, sadly,” Steve said. “But one day we will. We’ve been together almost ten years. The love of my life.” And he looked up and caught Daniel’s eye, and this time Daniel felt shame for a different reason. He felt shame for not being brave enough to do what Steve had done, and envy—oh God, so much envy for Steve having the life that all of a sudden Daniel realized he had always wanted.
They went out after dinner for a drink at the bar at Tavern on Main. Daniel recalled seeing Brokeback Mountain, looking longingly at the characters played by Jake Gyllenhaal and Heath Ledger embracing furiously at their reunion, and he parked the car on Main Street, hoping that that might happen for him, that Steve would grab him and take him into an alley.
Brokeback Mountain. He had seen it with Bee, then seen it by himself. Six times. He had sought out gay films, gay literature, programs on television with a gay bent, glazing over at the love scenes, trying to reassure himself that he was turned on just because it was sex, not because it involved two men.
Perhaps he was bisexual, he had started to think, but then he would lie in bed at home and watch Bee, so feminine and womanly, her breasts so full, her secrets and wetness so utterly repellent to him that he almost shuddered at the thought of her.
“I am lucky,” Steve said, nursing a beer as they sat at a quiet corner table. “Lucky because you changed my life, you made me see that I wasn’t being honest, and I couldn’t carry on living a lie. I have meant to thank you many, many times, but it has been so many years, and I guess life just got in the way. So how are you? How has life been for you?”
With hindsight it would have been so easy for Daniel to open the floodgates, to let it all come pouring out, and who better to talk to than Steve? But he found he couldn’t, couldn’t admit that he was living the very lie Steve was talking about, had lived it for years, had almost, almost accepted it, until Steve had phoned out of the blue, had turned up to show him what his life could have been had he been brave enough to embrace his true self.
“I’m great,” he lied that night. “Couldn’t be better. I adore my girls, and seem to be
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