The Perfect Family by Kathryn Shay

had gone on in the garage when she activated the automatic opener and the softness of her features shamed him.
    “I’m worried you’re upset about Jamie being gay and because you’ve had too much to drink, you’ll say something tonight you don’t mean, or wouldn’t want the boys to hear.”
    He didn’t respond. Instead, he stared out the front window. Before the overhead light went off, he caught a glimpse of the drywall. One summer the boys complained that the inside of the garage was dull and boring. Mike had shrugged a shoulder and said, “Then fix it.”
    They’d spent weeks doing artwork on the interior, covering the entire space. Some of it was simple shapes and letters—their initials, the school Spartan head, Brian’s uniform numbers, the logos for Jamie’s favorite bands. Other parts were scenes they asked Gretta to sketch out, and they’d painted colorfully within the lines. It was an eclectic hodgepodge that to this day both he and Maggie treasured. Tonight, Mike ached for that time in his life.
    So he said, “You know what I’ve been thinking about?”
    “What?”
    “That our different views on Jamie and his life are going to split us apart. And we’re going to lose the closeness between us because we disagree about him.” He paused. “I know it’s selfish, that I should be thinking about Jamie, and I am, I swear. But I’m worried about us, too.”
    Reaching across the gearshift, she took his hand and held it in a way that made his pulse calm. “So am I, honey. I’m afraid of exactly that.”
    “It’s why I drank so much.”
    No response. What could she say?
    “Promise me we won’t let this come between us.”
    “I promise, Mike.” She kissed his knuckles, her lips as soft as her skin.
    “All right then.” He squeezed her fingers. “I don’t want Jamie to know I was upset tonight about him.”
    “We’ll tell him we had a fight.”
    They’d been honest with the kids throughout the years, thinking it was healthy for the boys to see two people in love disagree and work differences out. “That’s a plan.”
    She hesitated. “Mike, maybe you should get counseling to sort out your feelings. Melissa Fairchild could suggest someone. I’ve got another appointment to talk to her next week.”
    Melissa was Maggie’s therapist, whom she’d seen periodically all of her adult life. Given the way Maggie had grown up, Mike had always been glad she had Melissa, though sometimes he worried what she told the therapist about him.
    “I don’t need Melissa. I’ve got an appointment with Father Pete on Wednesday.”
    “I’m not sure that’s going to help us.”
    “You need Melissa. I need Father Pete. Maybe she won’t help us either.”
    The door from the house to the garage opened, precluding further discussion.
    It wasn’t Jamie standing in the entryway. It was Brian. Silhouetted against the light coming from the hallway, he seemed smaller, more fragile than he really was. They were going to have to be careful when he learned the news about Jamie.
    “What’s going on?” his older son asked when they exited the car.
    Mike stuck his hands in his pockets. Despite what he said earlier about his kids seeing him like this, he hated tainting the boys’ image of him. “I had a few too many beers. Mom came and got me.”
    “No shit.”
    Now that Brian was almost an adult, they didn’t chide him about his language. Both boys cursed, but not to excess and seldom in front of their parents. And they never took God’s name in vain.
    “Sorry, son. I’m not being a good role model for you guys.”
    Brian grinned. Blond curls tumbled into his eyes. Mike remembered taking him for his first haircut and how Maggie cried when wispy pieces hit the floor. “Oh, I don’t know, Dad, I could do worse than become a man like you.”
    Mike’s hands fisted at his sides. Finally he managed to say, “Thanks, Bri. But not in this.”
    Once inside, Mike turned left to go upstairs, but Brian went into