Two of a Kind
By:
Morris Henderson
(Copyright 2014 by the author)
Edited by: Gerry Young
The author retains all rights. No reproductions
are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...
Prologue
I knew from a very early age that I was adopted. As an only child, I didn’t lack for attention and love. My curiosity was aroused when my aunt became pregnant and gave birth to a baby girl. If my mother didn’t give birth to me, who did? I asked her. “We don’t know, Johnny. All we know is that we waited for almost two years before the adoption agency called to say they had a baby we could adopt.” The answer was not what I wanted but with the mind of a five-year-old, I accepted it ... as I accepted the fact that my parents loved me even though they were not my “real” parents. It was just one of many mysteries that I didn’t worry about.
The mystery lay dormant in my mind but emerged when I entered high school. By then I was continually agonizing over my fascination with and attraction to other boys. A chapter on genetics in my biology text prompted a question: Could I have inherited some rogue genes from my biological parents that caused my obsessive interest in boys’ bodies? My search for an answer took some astonishing turns.
The Quest
Before the explosive growth of the internet and affordable personal computers my only sources of information were books in the high school or public library. Neither was any help. A few explained what little was then known about genetics but none mentioned homosexuality. That left me with two possible conclusions—no genetic basis for homosexuality had been discovered or, if it had, the relationship to sexuality that was condemned by religions and society had been deliberately excluded from publically available resources. The latter was, in my opinion, more likely. How then could I solve the mystery of my unusual attraction to others of my gender? (Many called it abnormal and abhorrent. I was unwilling, however, to accept the implication of depraved, deviant, or pathologically sick. So I regarded it as merely unusual.)
Soon after entering college, my quest for information was rewarded. The university library had uncensored information that I could access. I spent hours pouring over textbooks and scientific journals ... without finding any indisputable link between homosexuality and genetics. (Even today, as I write this, there is no conclusive link between biology and sexual orientation. Instead, there are only speculations about a complex interplay of biological and environmental factors that influence sexual orientation. And, of course, there is an abundance of divisive and politicized arguments about causes and about morality. Those arguments are all heat and no light.)
Undeterred, I continued my part-time research while suppressing what the poet Lord Alfred Douglas called ‘the love that dare not speak its name.’
I learned about biological differences between straight and gay individuals—primarily brain structure. There was no lack of speculation about intrauterine environment and childhood influences. But a complete answer to my question, “Why am I different?” remained elusive. Increasingly troublesome was the discouraging reality that, because of religious and societal values, I would never be able to satisfy my need for male companionship.
Early in my junior year of college, curiosity about my birth parents peaked. Although I no longer believed that the genes I inherited was the single explanation for my strong attraction to men, I wanted to thank them for bringing me into the world and assure them that I had been placed in a home where I was well cared for.
My parents tried at first to discourage me from finding my birth parents. However, after becoming convinced of my need to know, they relented and became as supportive of my efforts as they had been for years with virtually all of my activities and ambitions. Their support was not merely words of approval and encouragement. They actively assisted me in navigating the bureaucratic barriers erected by Children’s Services. After a year of denied or ignored requests and frustrating dead-ends, we finally learned the name of the woman who gave birth to me. With only a minimal amount of research, we learned that I was born at a hospital in Dearborn and not far from where we lived in Ann Arbor. AND, there was a startling revelation. The woman delivered TWINS. I had a twin brother!
The scope of my search expanded. I had to locate my birth mother AND my twin brother. I knew my birth mother’s maiden name and married name. It was a simple matter to find her address. I could contact her but, if my brother had also been adopted, it would be yet another challenge to find and contact him.
My parents, who had helped me in my quest, began to question the wisdom of contacting my birth mother. They suggested the possibility that putting me up for adoption was emotionally painful. Reminding her of the circumstances might be equally painful. It was something to think about but I reasoned that to learn her son had been placed in a good home would outweigh whatever grief she might feel.
Reunion
I decided it would be better if the first contact was a face-to-face meeting rather than a phone call. After dinner on a Tuesday evening, I drove to Dearborn, having first carefully thought through what I should say when we met. The neighborhood consisted of small, frame, 1950’s era houses, nearly all of them well-kept. I found the house where my birth mother lived. A ten-year-old Chevrolet pickup truck was parked in the driveway. My new Camaro seemed like it didn’t belong in the plat.
I parked at the curb, took a few minutes to gather my courage, walked to the front door, and rang the bell. A middle-aged woman with long blond hair and wearing an apron over her modestly cut dress opened the door. Upon seeing a stranger, she said, “Whatever you’re selling, I’m not buying.”
“I’m not selling anything, Ma’am. Are you Ann Carter?”
“What if I am?” she asked confrontationally.
Ignoring her muted animosity and eager to continue the conversation before she slammed the door in my face, I asked, “And did you give birth to twin boys in the Dearborn County Hospital twenty-one years ago?”
She seemed stunned by the question. Her face paled. Her shoulders drooped slightly. But she didn’t reply for a long time. Eventually, she recovered and forcibly asked, “And who the hell are you? Why are you asking me personal questions, anyway? Get lost before I call the cops!”
She started to close the door but I said, “Please, Mom. I just wanted to meet you. I have something important to tell you.”
She just stood there staring at me for a while. I think it was my calling her ‘mom’ that left her speechless. The silence was awkward so I said, “My name is Jonathan Simpson. I’m one of the twins you brought into the world. I felt you had a right to know that I was placed in a loving, happy home. And I want you to know how grateful I am for being my mother.”
Tears of happiness came to her eyes. She grabbed me in a very tight hug and cried on my shoulder. I hugged her back. “Come in,” she finally said. “We have a lot to talk about.”
Our conversation lasted for almost two hours. She peppered me with questions about my life, my adopted family, and my future plans. She listened intently to my answers and, it seemed to me, was pleased with what she heard. Well over an hour into the conversation she said, “Thank you for finding me. Thank you for coming to see me. You don’t know how I’ve wondered ... and worried ... about what happened to you and your brother.”
That was the opening I had been waiting for and I said, “It was a surprise when I found out in my search that I had a twin brother. Do you know how I might contact him?”
Her smile faded. “No, I’m afraid not. But there’s something I need to tell you. I want to apologize. Giving you up for adoption was the hardest thing I ever had to do. But I was sixteen years old. My parents wouldn’t let me get an abortion and laid guilt on me for months. They insisted on giving up the baby when it was born. I was a teenager. With TWO babies! I was dependent on my parents for support. I had no choice. I’m sorry, Jonathan. I didn’t want to do it. But I had to. And I’ve regretted the decision ever since.” She broke into tears again. This time they were tears of intense sadness.
I put my arm around her shoulders and said, “I’m sorry, Mom. Sorry for the pain you’ve had to live with.”
When she regained control of herself, she looked into my eyes and said, “Please, Jonathan. Please keep in touch. Please.”
“I will. But I hope you can take comfort that at least one of your sons has had a happy home. And that he loves you.”
It was getting late. We hugged again and I left, glad that a lonely, guilt-ridden woman had been able to meet her son.
A Second Quest
My parents eagerly listened to my report on meeting my birth mother and were pleased. I concluded my account by saying, “Yes, I think it went well. But now I want to find my twin brother.”
Dad grinned and replied, “I figured you would. What can we do to help?”
His response did not surprise me. “Thanks a million,” I said. “That’s another reason why I love you both so much.”
Battling the bureaucracy at Children’s Services a second time was considerably easier, perhaps because their primary focus is protecting the identity of a birth mother; they were not too hesitant about shielding siblings. Or perhaps they realized that I would pester them until I got what I wanted. Whatever the reason, only two months passed before I had the name and address of the couple who adopted my brother. I drove to the address and rang the doorbell. A very old man opened the door. “Excuse me, Sir,” I said. “I was looking for the Andrews family.”
“Nobody here by that name,” he growled.
“Perhaps they moved. It’s been several years since I visited them.”
“I’ve lived here fifteen years,” he said, his tone softening somewhat. “You must have been a little boy then. Are you sure this is the house you want?”
“Quite sure,” I replied. “I wanted to return something the Andrews’ son loaned to me. I just found it among my things and knew it meant a lot to him. Do you know where they moved?”
“Sorry. I don’t. All I know is that the house had been vacant for three months before I bought it and moved in.”
The trail had turned suddenly cold. All I could do was thank the old man and leave.
I scanned the telephone directories for cities throughout southern Michigan, northern Ohio and Indiana and found sixteen listings for Norman Andrews, the adoptive father’s name. I began calling numbers and asking, “Did you adopt a baby boy about twenty years ago?” After about ten ‘no’ answers, my disappointment mounted. But then I got the answer I hoped for, “Yes. Why do you want to know?”
My hopes were reignited. “Let me explain. My name is Jonathan Simpson. I was adopted as an infant. Recently, I wanted to meet my birth mother. After a very long search, I learned her name and was able to locate her and talk to her. I also learned that she gave birth to twins. But they were adopted by different families. I’m now searching for my twin brother. I’d very much like to meet him. Did you know that the baby you adopted has a twin brother?”
There was a pause. “No.”
“It’s true, Ma’am. I’d very much like to meet him, to get to know him. But that depends on whether or not he knows he was adopted.”
“Yes, he knows he was adopted ... but not that he has a twin.”
Does he still live with you?”
“No. He’s a student at Michigan State.”
“Thank you. I’d like to contact him. May I ask his name, phone number, and mailing address?”
There was an uncomfortable pause. “Before I give that information, I’d prefer to contact him myself to see if he’s interested. If he is, I’ll let you know. What’s your phone number?”
I gave her my phone number and she promised to let me know her son’s decision.
A week later, I had all but given up hope. But Mrs. Andrews called. “David was ‘blown away’ by the fact that he had a twin brother somewhere. And he’s eager to meet you.”
“How can I contact him?” She gave me his first name, David, and his phone number. “Thank you ma’am. I really appreciate your help.”
First Encounter
My next phone call was to David Andrews, my twin brother. There was no answer. I left a voice mail giving my name and phone number and concluding with, “Please call me. I’d like to meet you. I think we have something special in common.”
In the late afternoon of the next day he returned my call. “This is David. Is what you told my mother true?”
“Without a doubt. I’ve seen the records from the Dearborn County Hospital and from Children’s Services. I won’t bore you with the time and effort it took. I’ve met with our birth mother and everything she tells me corroborates the fact that we’re twins. I’d like to meet with you so we can get to know each other. How about it? Are you as interested as I am in getting together?”
“Absolutely! I understand you live in Ann Arbor. Would you be willing to come to East Lansing?”
“Of course. What’s the best time for you?”
“My days are quite full ... what with school work and a part time job. But Saturday afternoon is my free time for R and R.”
“That works for me. Should I come to the address your mother gave me?”
After a short pause, David said, “No. My roommate will be there. I’d prefer to talk privately. Let me think a minute.” After a short pause he continued, “I’ve got it. There’s a great Mexican restaurant—El Azteco—I’ve been there often. The lunch crowd thins out by half past one. Why don’t we meet at one, have lunch, and then hang around to compare notes.”
“Sounds fine with me. You say it’s called El Azteco?”
“Right. It’s at 215 Ann Street. If you get lost, just ask anybody for directions. They’re sure to point you in the right direction. Oh, by the way, so you can recognize me in the crowd, I’ll wear black jeans and tee shirt and have a book bag slung over one shoulder.”
“See ya at one on Saturday, Bro. I’m really looking forward to it.”
Because I misjudged the travel time to East Lansing or perhaps because of my eagerness to meet my brother, I arrived at the El Azteco twenty minutes before one. David must have been just as eager. He was standing near the front door scanning the people entering the restaurant. I walked over to him and said, “David?”
“Yeah! Jonathan?”
“That’s me.”
He shook my hand, holding on for much longer than customary, while saying, “Thanks for coming. Thanks for finding out about us. As you can imagine it was quite a shock to learn that I had a twin brother. But I’m glad to know that. And even more glad to meet you.”
“I know the feeling, Bro. I was also surprised. And just as happy to get together.”
A vague mental image of what my twin brother might look like had been taking shape in my mind—dark hair like mine, similar facial features, and about six feet tall. David matched my image in several ways but the differences struck me in ways that aroused long-suppressed emotions. There was his infectious smile that seemed to evoke a carefree personality. And a somewhat muscular, solidly built body that was accentuated by his tight tee shirt. I felt the urge to check out his package but, by strength of habit, resisted.
“Hungry?” he asked.
“Yes. For food and for information.”
He chuckled. “Me, too. Let’s go inside and eat. And talk.”
While eating we shared stories of our early lives but, as if by unspoken agreement, did not mention anything that might be overheard by others about the circumstances of our birth, separation, and reunion. The similarities of interests and ambitions were eerie. His major in college was psychology; mine was sociology. His goal was to become a high school counselor (owing to what he said was a substantial impact on his life by a counselor in his high school); mine was social work so I could help marginalized people overcome their impoverished lives. Neither of us had a consuming interest in sports although we both attended pep rallies and games while in college in order to “fit in” with our peers. Our questions came unscripted and spontaneously; our answers (or, for sure, mine) were honest and uninhibited.
An immediate bond had formed between us, which was due less to the fact of our being twins than to the easy, rewarding banter of our conversation. Before we knew it, we had chatted for more than an hour. Still, we had more to share so we continued talking. With the relative privacy of a nearly empty restaurant, he asked about how I was able to track him down and about our birth mother. I filled him in on the details of my search and my conversation with our birth mother.
Eventually, he said, “It’s been fabulous to meet you. Thanks again for all the work you’ve done to make it possible. I’m afraid I have to go now. Can we get together again? And again? For the rest of our lives?”
“Absolutely!” I said emphatically. I was sorry to have our time together end but elated over the prospect of continuing contact.
We argued over the check but I insisted on paying. We walked outside. I was reluctant to say goodbye and he seemed to be also. On the sidewalk outside, he grabbed me in a tight hug, which I returned. We stood there, oblivious to what bystanders may think, for several minutes. One of the onlookers startled us by shouting, “You BASTARD!” We broke the hug and looked at the source of the disruption—as did several other people in the vicinity. A young man stepped toward us and launched into an angry tirade. “You said you were going to the library. You lied! You wanted to meet your other lover. We promised each other to be faithful. That was a lie, too! Does his cock taste as good as mine? When you fuck me are you imagining that it’s him? This is the final straw! It’s over with us!”
David, clearly upset, said, “You’ve got it all wrong, Rex. This is my brother and....
Interrupting, Rex shouted, “Bull shit! Another lie! You don’t have a brother. And you don’t have me as your fuck-buddy anymore.” He stormed off without any interest in hearing an explanation of the hug he witnessed.
Clearly shaken, David quietly said, “I guess it’s pretty obvious now that I’m gay. That was my roommate. He moved in with me about six weeks ago. At first I thought it would work out but he’s interested in nothing but sex. No long-term, committed relationship. But we didn’t get along ... more and more arguments. Breaking up was inevitable. I’m just sorry it happened this way. I apologize for your being a part of it.”
I put a hand on David’s shoulder and said, “Based only on what I saw of him, it sounds like you’re lucky to be rid of him.”
“True enough,” David said. “That’s the good news. The bad news is that you know your brother is queer.”
I couldn’t help it. I laughed. He looked at me incredulously and said, “I guess that means you won’t want anything to do with me.”
“Quite the contrary, Bro. If anything, that’s another bond we have.”
He backed away from me slightly with an expression of either confusion or amazement. “What does that mean?” he asked.
“Simple,” I replied. “I’m gay also. The only difference between us is that you have a partner ... or HAD a partner ... but I’m a virgin very deep in the closet. You’re the only one who knows my secret.
He stared at me before saying, “Are you serious? Or just trying to be nice?”
“Quite serious,” I replied. “I’ve known it for years but didn’t have the cajones to tell anyone ... or do anything with anyone. My only relief is with my fist. My only partner—if you can call it that—is in my fantasies.”
“This is incredible! What were the chances of meeting a brother I didn’t know I had? And the chances are nearly nonexistent that we’re both gay.”
“All the more reason to stay in touch,” I grinned.
The Last Barrier Falls
My parents were happy for me when I told them about my meeting with David. They would have been upset and disappointed if I had told them about the confrontation with Rex. They were not virulently homophobic but were more than moderately religious, which is one of the reasons I kept my sexual interests secret.
David and I talked by phone frequently during the next two weeks. Each time, it seemed, one or both of us mentioned a desire to get together. But our only time together was when my parents invited him to dinner one Saturday night and I was invited to meet his parents for dinner the following Saturday.
That opportunity to be together without parents present came unexpectedly two weeks before graduation. David called to say, “My parents are giving me a graduation present—a five-day vacation to Mackinac Island State Park. They figure that I need some relaxation time after months of a part-time job and attending college.”
“That’s terrific. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.”
“There’s more,” he said brightly. “They want to know if you can join me.”
“Does that mean...?.”
“Yes! They want both of us to enjoy the vacation. Together. I guess my comments about how much I liked you influenced their offer. How about it? Can you come along right after graduation?”
“I’d be happy to. Thanks. And be sure to thank your parents.”
The first two days on the island were filled with sight-seeing. And there were plenty of places to explore. It was pure delight. Except when the day ended and we returned to our room in a lodge to go to bed. We shared a room (separate beds) and we were both discrete about shedding our clothes. I have no clue about David’s state of mind but mine was chaotic. Seeing him nude except for his boxer shorts inspired awe and invigorated my repressed yearnings. I can’t say how he felt but I guessed he had no such feelings. We were equally discrete about showers in the morning (separately). I was again aroused by images of him totally naked in the bathroom.
On the third day, we were sitting on the lake shore watching the sun set. Little was said. Each of us lost in our own thoughts; both of us comfortable with the silence as only two very good friends can be. As the last glow of the sun faded from the horizon, David asked, “Shall we go back to the lodge and turn in early? It’ll be dark soon and it’s a long walk.”
Half way back to the lodge, I asked, “Whatever happened to Rex?”
“He moved out the day after his tantrum. I haven’t seen or heard from him since. Which suits me just fine. He’s not the kind of guy I want to spend my life with.”
“And what kind of guy are you looking for?”
David stopped walking. I turned around to face him. He just stared at me. I feared my question was insensitive or inappropriate. I was about to apologize when he said, “I’m looking at him right now.”
The enormity of the implication stunned me, so much so that I blurted out, “Me?”
“Yes! You! In the short time we’ve known each other my admiration for you has grown. You have all the qualities I would ever want in a partner. You’re bright. You’re sensitive to others’ feelings—mine in particular. You’re fun to be with. You’ve got initiative and ambition. I could go on and on but the point is this. I can’t imagine being anything but happy with you by my side.”
“I could say the same things about you, Bro. And I’ll admit that I’ve given thought to living with you. But I discounted the possibility because I was afraid I was thinking with my dick instead of my head. If you’re suggesting that we become gay partners—with all that goes with it—I’m afraid I’ll have to give it more thought. And please don’t take my hesitancy as anything more than just needing a little time to absorb what you’re suggesting.”
David grinned. “You have until tomorrow morning. And you’ll have to endure the attention and affection I lavish on you in bed tonight.”
His ‘threat’ was extraordinarily tempting. It was what I wanted and needed for far too long. But I had to ask, “Are you thinking with your dick right now?”
“Yes and no. I’m horny and you’re desirable. But make no mistake. I’ve given a lot of thought—using my head—to living with you. And the inescapable conclusion is that I want you as a partner. The sex is enjoyable for sure. But it’s infinitely better when it’s an expression of love and not just two bodies with orifices and appendages seeking physical gratification.”
David put into words what I had concluded earlier. Sure, there were times when lust drove my interest in another guy. But my deeper need was companionship with someone with whom I could share every facet of my life. Still, I hesitated to fully commit. “We agree on the essence of a partnership. And I welcome your suggestion of having sex tonight. But I still want some time to think it through.”
David introduced me to the ecstasy of sex that night. Aware that I was a virgin, he proceeded gently, patiently, and skillfully. It exceeded my expectations. We then cuddled together with our naked bodies intertwined. It was period of unimaginable bliss.
David fell asleep long before I did. I had the experience of a lifetime and spent a very long time reflecting on the out-of-this-world sensations. And at least an equal amount of time contemplating the possibility of being in a committed gay relationship. With my twin brother!
By morning, even before showering (together) and a prolonged encore of the previous night’s sexual activities, I had made a momentous decision. I had found what I desperately wanted or, more accurately, what we both wanted. I would give my body and soul to David for as long as he would have me.
And thus began the happiest chapter of my life.
A Problem to Solve
By the final day of their five-day vacation on Mackinac Island, Jonathan and David had seen all they wanted to see and done all they wanted to do as tourists. There were far more important things on their mind. The most immediate need was to enjoy each other by exploring the delights of intimate coupling in various forms and to cuddle together with their naked bodies locked in a physical bond until their very beings merged into an increasingly strong emotional bond.
A second need, however, loomed. Both young men were aware of the problem they would face living together as a gay couple. But both seemed willing to delay addressing the practical, yet significant problems they would inevitably face in the future. Immediate issues must be resolved. And soon. However, the unparalleled joy of the present must be savored.
It was mid-morning. They had skipped breakfast to prolong their time in bed together. Reluctantly they got out of bed and dressed, skipping a shower because the hotel’s maid was due soon. Having ordered lunch in the restaurant, they sat largely in silence because what was on each of their minds could not safely be discussed when surrounded by other diners. As the silence became awkward, David said, “I know what you’re thinking.”
“Do you blame me? It was magnificent ... far better than I imagined it would be.”
“It was for me, too,” David ginned. “But something else is on my mind. What do we do tomorrow ... and all the tomorrows after that?”
Jonathan frowned at being forced to think of the problems they would soon face. After a pause, he said, “We’ll work it out.”
Their meals arrived, affording an opportunity to talk about the food and their activities on the island during the previous few days. Upon finishing their meal, David suggested, “Let’s walk down to the shore, enjoy the natural beauty, and relax for a while.”
Jonathan comprehended the underlying meaning. It was isolated and an ideal place to talk about their future.
Having settled down on the rocky shoreline, David said, “Forgive me for bringing up the past but I want you to know how much better sex with you is than it ever was with Rex. For him, it was all about physical gratification. But with you there’s another, deeper sense of satisfaction. I think it’s because of a profound affection for you. It’s as if our souls are merging and not just our bodies. That’s a feeling I’ve never had. And it surpasses the physical. It’s almost spiritual. And infinitely more satisfying than pure sex. Don’t get me wrong. Sex with you is terrific. But it’s the... How can it put it? It’s the contentment of meeting a need that transcends erotic sensations. Shit! I’m not making any sense.”
“Perfect sense, David. Every word you spoke describes what I feel. But maybe understates how I feel. That’s because I’ve never had sex with a guy. So my euphoria is a product of both the physical and the emotional. Being with you goes way beyond my expectations. The sex is better than I imagined in my wildest dreams. But I didn’t anticipate how much another guy would mean to me. I’m talking about how much I respect and admire you ... and about the honor of your choosing me as a partner.”
David picked up a small rock and threw it into the water. He sat pensively for a few moments and said, “I think what we both mean—without using the word—is love. Do you think so?’
“Yes. It’s often thought that true love takes time to mature and that ‘love at first sight’ is a myth. But in our case ... at least in mine ... I was attracted to you the first time we met. And it wasn’t only lust although that was definitely a part of it. The more we saw each other, the more I wanted you as a friend, a very good friend. How much of that is due to our being twin brothers? I don’t know. But I know one thing for sure. Life won’t be nearly as complete without you in it. Love? Yes! But more than brotherly love ... much more. It’s a powerful combination of brotherly love and romantic love—each strengthening the other. It’s a love that implies a strong desire to make you happy, to support you in times of trouble, and, perhaps most importantly, to do whatever it takes to earn your love in return.”
“Elegantly said,” David replied.
“Maybe.” Jonathan grinned. “But what I said is the result of a lot of thinking last night after you fell asleep.”
“Whatever! Just to be clear, I agree with everything you said. I DO love you ... both as brother and as a very important part of my life.”
Jonathan glanced around. Seeing no one, he passionately kissed his new life-mate to tangibly affirm the bond of love between them. Breaking the kiss, he said, “I’d like to do more than kiss you but I think we need to talk for a while.
“About our future. Right?”
“Yes.” David replied. ”We can be sure of only one more day and night together. Tomorrow we go back to our families and our former lives. We need to conjure up some way to be together. Got any ideas?”
“I’ve given it some thought. Not a lot because everything has been happening so fast. So far I haven’t come up with anything.”
Problem Solved (for now)
They sat quietly for a long time until David said, “You’ve got a job lined up in Detroit. When do you start?”
“In three weeks.”
“I’m not so lucky ... or paying for my own stupidity. I’ve applied to several school districts for a high school counselor’s position. They all require a Master’s Degree or a Teaching Certificate or both. I shoulda checked that out sooner but I thought a degree in psychology would be enough to qualify me. So here I am ... a college graduate with no job prospects.”
There was another long period of silence until Jonathan said, “I’ll be moving to someplace close to Detroit. I’ll find an apartment closer to work than Ann Arbor. The Social Services Agency I’ll work for is huge with a lot of departments. And it always needs people. Here’s my idea. You can get a job with the agency and we can share an apartment. It all depends on whether you’re interested in helping the homeless, single parents, the elderly, troubled youth, and other folks who have problems. I know it’s not what you really want to do. It’s just an idea.”
David silently considered the possibility and said, “I’m not sure about that kind of job. But I couldn’t be more sure about the chance to live with you.”
“Okay. Here’s another idea. If you don’t like the job at the agency, you can look around for other jobs more to your liking. That’s an option I’m keeping open for myself.”
“That’s certainly a possibility. And it’s essentially the position I’m in now—looking for a job. But I have to be honest, Jonathan. Helping the needy isn’t high on my list of priorities. I don’t have your compassion.’
“Wouldn’t you be helping the needy as a high school counselor?”
“Touché, my friend! But I’m sure you see the difference and understand what I mean.”
“Of course I do.”
“I’ll give it some thought. In the meantime, maybe one of us will think of another possibility.”
The two young lovers spent much of the day exploring ways to live together with the dominant priority being able to live together. A few ideas were potentially promising but most were discarded for one or another reason. As dinner time arrived, Jonathan’s first idea was at the top of a short list of possibilities although David was not yet ready to fully commit to working at a Social Services Agency.
Jonathan suspected David was not completely forthcoming in explaining his hesitancy so he asked, “Is there some reason for your reluctance to help needy people?”
David’s typical pleasant attitude seemed to evaporate. He though for a few minutes before saying, “I’m not sure. Maybe I’m just scared of getting into a completely unfamiliar territory. I have absolutely no experience dealing with...” He struggled to find the right words. “...with down-and-out people. My whole life has been spent in Birmingham, an affluent suburb with upscale homes, over 95% white, and no poverty. Single parents usually hire a nanny/housekeeper. There are no homeless people. I’m not sure I can relate to the clients of the agency. And see the world as they see it. And understand their needs. Right now, all I have to go on is a vague notion of what it’s like to be poor or feeble or constantly made to feel inferior. If I’m honest with myself ... and with you ... I’m afraid my perspective is based on rigid stereotypes that are subtle but always present ... and powerful in the world where I grew up.”
“For what it’s worth, David, I think you’re underestimating your ability. One of the things I admire in you is your capacity to listen to other people. You don’t just hear. You LISTEN. I’ve often seen you talk WITH people, not TO them or AT them. That skill, however it developed, is precisely what will help you help others.”
“Thanks for the complement. I’ll consider your assessment in my decision.”
After dinner as they again watched the sunset over the lake, David said, “It looks like your first idea is the best alternative. Who knows? I may like the job. If not, I could find a different job. Or we both might. What’s important is that we can be together.”
Joy Ends, Loneliness Begins
Their time together in bed that night gave them two types of immense pleasure. There was the physical—erotic stimulation leading to an intense explosion of primal gratification. Both were magnified by their affection for each other. That was followed by a period of emotional and quasi-spiritual connection. This was the period when they cuddled with arms and legs entwined in a state of euphoric bliss. Their mutual affection would more accurately and assuredly be called love.
Their morning love-making was equally enjoyable physically. It was drawn out because they knew it was their last opportunity. Although neither voiced any thought about their impending separation, both had the same concern. Beginning later that day there could be no intimate coupling nor giving and receiving loving attention. It might be for a long time that would have to be endured. Only when Jonathan found an apartment in Detroit could David join him and the painful separation come to an end.
They had lunch, checked out of the lodge in mid-afternoon, and walked to the long-term parking garage where Jonathan had left his car. The relatively short drive to David’s home was filled with conversation, mostly chit-chat, except when Jonathan pulled into an empty parking lot, stopped the car, and said, “We’re almost there. But I wanted to tell you how much I appreciate your inviting me to share your vacation. And ... to reaffirm my love for you. We won’t be able to express our love for each other for a while but it will be worth the waiting.”
The two lovers impulsively and passionately kissed each other for a long time.
They arrived at David’s home in the early evening. Both got out of the car. “Are you coming in?” David asked.
“Yes. I want to thank your parents.”
Entering the house, they heard Mrs. Andrews squeal, “David! Jonathan! I’m so happy to see you.”
“And we’re happy to be home, Mom.” David replied.
Jonathan quickly added, “I wanted to let you know how much I appreciated being included in David’s vacation. It was a splendid week.”
“Come in.” the woman said. “Sit down. Both of you. I want to hear all about it.”
For nearly an hour the two young men recounted what they saw and what they did—with, of course—some obvious omissions.
“If you don’t mind, Ma’am, I think I should get home. My parents will be looking for me.”
“Of course, dear boy. But come to visit whenever you have time.”
David escorted his lover to the car. Both of them regretted that their companionship was being interrupted for even a short time. They parted with promises to stay in touch by telephone.
One Message, Different Reactions
David’s disclosure to his parents that he was applying for a job with a Social Services Agency in Detroit was met with complete surprise. “You can’t be serious!” his father exclaimed.
“But I am,” David replied. “Jonathan, as you know, will also be working there. During our week at Mackinac Island we had plenty of time to talk about it. I became convinced that it is more than being a ‘do-gooder’. There are plenty of people who haven’t had the benefits that I have. If I can help them, it will be a very rewarding experience.”
“Places like that don’t pay well,” his father countered. “You’ll never be able to live comfortably.”
“I know that,” David said. “There’s nothing wrong with living comfortably but there’s nothing wrong with making a meaningful difference in other people’s lives. If I can’t have both comfortable wealth and the satisfaction of helping others, I’ll choose to help others in need.”
Exasperated, the man turned to his wife and said, “Help me out here, Ann. Your son is making a big mistake.”
“OUR son, Norman,” the woman corrected. “And I think he’s smart enough to make the choice and I admire the choice he’s made.”
The disagreement devolved into an argument between the father holding fast to his opinion on the one side and the mother and son using reason (unsuccessfully) to convince the disappointed and disgruntled father who eventually stormed out of the room.
“I’m sorry, Mom. I hate being the cause of trouble between you and Dad.”
“Don’t worry about it, Son. He’ll cool down. He always has. He may not change his mind but he’ll accept your decision sooner or later.”
Jonathan’s parents had long ago reacted similarly to his choice of a career but, being more familiar with the plight of needy people, they initially limited their comment to questions that would test Jonathan’s awareness of what lay ahead. Ultimately, they supported him just as they had when Jonathan was determined to find his birth mother.
The two young lovers compared notes over the phone about parental expectations and their offspring’s aspirations. Jonathan agreed that he was fortunate to have the parents he did but encouraged David to be patient. “Your father may come to accept your decision. Even if he doesn’t, he will still love you.”
The two sets of parents had eerily similar reactions when their sons announced they would be sharing an apartment in Detroit. The notable difference was that David’s father was more subdued in his objections and Jonathan’s parents were extremely pleased that the twins would maintain a close relationship. They didn’t know, however, just how close the relationship had become.
What is Truth?
At David’s request, Jonathan arranged a visit to Ann Carter, their birth mother. He said nothing about bringing along his twin brother because he wanted to surprise her. They arrived at the woman’s modest house and Miss Carter opened the door before her visitors had a chance to ring the doorbell. She seemed confused by having not one but two guests or, perhaps, by their striking similarity in looks.
“Hi, Mom,” Jonathan said. “I’d like you to meet my twin brother and your son, David.”
The dumbstruck woman is speechless. Her eyes begin to tear up. After a few moments to comprehend the significance of meeting BOTH her sons, she impulsively seized David in an embrace. It was then David’s turn to be surprised. The immediate sign of affection was unexpected but he recovered quickly and hugged his birth mother in return. They held each other longer than David would have liked but Miss Carter eventually said, “Come in! I want to hear all there is to know about you, David.”
It was almost an hour of questions and David’s answers. The woman’s mood changed when she mentioned the painful experience of giving up her babies for adoption. “I know that,” David said. “It must have been terrible for you.”
“And ever since ... for years,” she replied.
The conversation resumed but suddenly, the shock of seeing BOTH her “babies" who had grown into handsome men diminished and she gasped, “Jonathan! David! Praise the Lord!” The visitors were confused by the sudden outburst but only momentarily because she continued, “I’ve prayed to the Lord since the day you were taken from me. I pleaded with God to make sure you would go to good homes and turn out to be honorable men. I’ve wondered and worried about you for twenty years.” Raising her voice slightly, she continued, “Your names! It’s a sign from God that my prayers have been answered!”
“Our names?” both young men answered in unison.
“YES!” she triumphantly exclaimed. “Just like in the Bible! Jonathan was the son of Saul, king of Israel. David slew Goliath so Saul made him part of the royal family. David and Jonathan were then like brothers and became very good friends. Don’t you see? David! Jonathan! Very good friends. Just like you two.”
Neither of the young men wanted to dispute what she felt was the divine significance of having the same names.
As they drove away, the two lovers reflected on the visit, including her outburst of thanksgiving to God. David remarked, “The similarity of names is nothing more than coincidence. But if it gives her any comfort, I suppose it can do no harm.”
“True,” Jonathan replied. “But I don’t want you to go out looking for a Goliath to slay.”
David laughed. “One thing about the Bible story and ours is weird.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. David and Jonathan in the Bible were very good friends. So are we. Do you suppose....?”
“Don’t even go there!” Jonathan interrupted. “There are, of course, various interpretations of the Bible story. But all of them are based at least in part on pure conjecture. Many say they were just good friends. Others claim there was more to their friendship—romantic love or even sexual desire and possibly sexual contact.”
“So you know about the Jonathan-David relationship in the Bible?”
“I do. But only because we had a lecture in one of my classes. The prof used the story—among others—to warn us against drawing conclusions from limited details. Without more definitive evidence, we can’t draw unjustified conclusions because they would be tainted with conjecture—conjecture that conveniently fits some preconceived bias. Some use ambiguous wording in the Bible to reinforce and validate their beliefs.”
David thought about that for a moment and said, “Yeah. I had a psych prof who used several examples of people filtering what they heard or read, blocking or rejecting anything that conflicted with their preconceptions but remembering whatever might reinforce their beliefs.”
“Happens all the time,” Jonathan agreed. “I always remind myself of something George Bernard Shaw said. ‘Beware of false knowledge. It’s more dangerous than ignorance.’”
“Yeah, I’ve heard that one,” David replied thoughtfully. “It sounds reasonable but how can you tell when the knowledge is false? Take any of a number of examples from religion. Look at the wide variety of religions in the world that have conflicting views of truth. Or politics. Activists take one position or its opposite on an issue, each convinced that their reality is the true one. Even scientists who brag about logically deriving the truth from factual evidence argue that their theory is right and others are wrong. So how can you ever be sure that knowledge is true or false?”
“Excellent argument, David. But I have some knowledge that is undeniably true—not a hint of falseness in it. I love you. I love you more every day.”
David grinned. “Let’s hope it never becomes false. Tomorrow, next year, not even when we’re old and gray.”
The Good, the Bad, the Ugly
A week later, David answered the phone and received the news he had been waiting for. “David, it’s me. Great news! I’ve rented a furnished apartment. It’s not luxurious but it’s comfortable. I can’t wait until you come.”
“That IS great news,” David gushed.
“Wait. There’s more. I got a list of several job openings at the agency. You’ll have your choice of which to apply for. I’m confident you’ll get at least a few offers so you can pick the one that suits you.”
“Can I come see your apartment? Tonight?”
Jonathan laughed, “You want to see my apartment? Not to see me?”
“Of course I do, smart-ass. In fact, I’ll tell my parents I may stay a few days for job interviews. How does that sound?”
“I was hoping you would.”
After giving David the address and directions, the conversation ended. Both young men were delighted that their painful separation was over. David then broke the news to his parents. His mother accepted it gracefully in spite of the fact that her ‘little boy’ was leaving the nest. His father, however, still harbored a festering disappointment and disapproval of his son’s choice of jobs. All he said was, “You’re making a huge mistake. And you’ll regret it.”
David wisely chose not to dispute his father’s prediction. Instead, he packed a bag with a few changes of clothes, said goodbye, and left.
The reunion was joyful. After a quick snack in lieu of dinner, the two wasted no time in demonstrating their love for each other. In bed. Until nearly midnight.
In less than two weeks, David had three job offers. He accepted the most appealing: a case worker in the Social Services Agency. After several weeks of training and accompanying an experienced case worker, his duties would include periodic visits to foster homes to assure that there were no problems and to investigate the background and living conditions of those who applied to take in a foster child. Jonathan underwent a similar period of training and shadowing an experienced worker, eventually working solo to help clients with a wide variety of services, occasionally counseling but more frequently referring those in need to available resources—health care, job training, substance abuse, housing, financial aid, and more.
Both David and Jonathan found their jobs to be challenging but each derived a lot of satisfaction from helping others. Their salaries were not generous but their combined income was ample to provide for basic needs. Their days were busy and sometimes hectic but they were happy, mostly because of the evenings and nights when they compared notes, exchanged ideas, and simply enjoyed living together. Their love-making capped each day. Their devotion to each other steadily grew.
By tacit agreement, they kept the true nature of their relationship secret. Neither was ashamed of being gay but did not want to risk the persecution that might conceivably cost them their jobs. They maintained periodic contact with their parents who accepted the unusual but acceptable situation of their sons sharing an apartment.
Their private lives together were jeopardized when David’s father stopped by the apartment. Jonathan answered the knock on the door. “Mr. Andrews,” he exclaimed, his expression revealing his surprise. “Come in.”
“Sorry to come unannounced,” the man said. “But this package for David was delivered to my house by registered mail and I thought it must be important so I decided to drop it off on my way home from work.”
The man handed Jonathan a large manila envelope. Jonathan took it and put it on the kitchenette counter. “Can you stay for a little while? David isn’t home yet but I expect him soon.”
“Only a little while.”
“Good. Please have a seat in the living room. I’ll just turn down the heat in the oven. We’re having a casserole for dinner tonight. There will be enough if you care to join us for dinner.”
“No thanks, Jonathan. Mrs. Andrews and I are meeting friends for a late supper.”
Jonathan checked the casserole and turned off the oven. Busy with the oven and with his back to the door, he didn’t hear David come in. Turning around to go back to the living room, he was stunned to see David beside him. Before he could say anything, David seized him in a hug and kissed him on the lips. Jonathan quickly broke free and haltingly said, “David ... uh ... your father ... is in the living room.”
“Oh, shit!” David muttered almost inaudibly. He tried, unsuccessfully, to compose himself as he turned around, saw his Dad scowling menacingly, and said, “Hi, Dad. This is a surprise.”
Mr. Andrews stood and replied, “A surprise for me as well. And a very unpleasant one at that.”
“Dad, I suppose we’d better have a talk.”
“No talk is necessary, David,” the furious man growled. “Nor would it excuse what I’ve witnessed. It’s eminently clear that you two are perverts ... living in sin. I don’t care to hear any phony bull shit about queers being normal or being in love. I’ll be on my way now ... to get some fresh, clean air.” He strode toward the front door.
“Wait, Dad! Can’t you even listen to what I have to say?”
There was no reply. The door slammed behind the infuriated man.
Recovery
David collapsed on the sofa. His tears came in torrents. Jonathan sat beside him with one arm around his partner’s shoulders and the other across his chest. David shifted toward his lover, returned the hug, and buried his head into Jonathan’s shoulder. For a long time, no words were spoken. None were necessary. Holding tightly to each other was the best comfort the distraught young man could receive.
Several minutes later, David was able to control his sobbing. He looked into his partner’s face and said, “Well. I certainly screwed things up, didn’t I?”
“It’s not your fault,” Jonathan said soothingly. “You shouldn’t feel guilty. You were just being you. Expressing the love that you feel. Your dad is another matter. I guess he was just being what he is. A loving father disappointed with what he regards as an unacceptable form of love. And reacting with emotions before thinking about the hatred in the words he used. I know how they hurt you. But you can count on me to be at your side forever.”
The love-making that night consisted only of tender words of support and abiding love while clinging to each other in a tight embrace.
In the morning, over breakfast, Jonathan said, “I’ll be home late tonight. Right after work, I’m going to talk to my parents. I think it’s better that they learn about us from me rather than take the risk of your father telling them. Will you be all right today? I should be home by nine or so.”
“Do you want me to go with you?”
“Thanks for offering but if you ... or anyone else ... is present, it could prevent my parents from expressing their real feelings. Will you be okay ... at work today and in the early evening?”
“I’ll be fine. Well ... maybe not fine. I’ll be sad that Dad found out about us the way he did. And that he erupted in anger. But two thoughts will carry me through the day. The first is that I know you’ll come home and we can get on with our lives together. The second is that compared to the clients we work with I’m a helluvalot luckier than they are. That’s two things to be thankful for.”
“Oh!” Jonathan said. “Your dad was here because he wanted to deliver a package that came to the house for you.” He retrieved the envelope and handed it to David.
David opened it and said, “I’ll be damned. It’s my wallet that I lost on campus.” He inspected the contents. “And everything is still in it ... except for about ten dollars. Of course it’s useless now because I replaced all the ID cards and driver’s license. In a way, I’m sorry it was found and returned to me. Otherwise, Dad would not have stopped by last night and ... you know.”
“It was a bad break,” Jonathan agreed. “But done is done. We can move on. Together!”
They kissed passionately before going their separate ways to work.
Just before nine that evening, Jonathan arrived back home. The greeting, hugs and kisses, were longer and more deeply moving than usual. “So how did it go with your parents?” David asked.
“Better than expected. Both were surprised at the news although Mom said she suspected there was more to our friendship than brotherly love. She said she based her assumption on the way we looked at each other and a few other subtle cues. I guess it’s true that women are more perceptive of others’ emotions than men. Dad made it clear that he strongly disapproved of gay relationships. But, toward the end of our conversation, he said something that made me feel good. ‘I don’t like it, Son. But it’s your life to live. If you’re going to hook up with another guy, David is the kind of guy I’d want you to be with.’ I cringed at the ‘hook up’ part. It ignores the genuine love we have for each other. But taken as a whole, his words seemed to say that he accepted our relationship even though he doesn’t approve.”
“You’re very fortunate. You saw how my Dad reacted.”
“Maybe you should give him a little slack ... a little time to get over the shock.”
“That’s pretty much what Mom said. There was a message from her on the answering machine when I got home. It just said, “Please call me tonight. I love you. Mom.”
“Did you call her?”
“After I spent some time psyching myself up for the call. When I called, she urged me to be patient with Dad ... that it would take some time to adjust to the situation. And she must have said a half dozen times that she still loved me.”
After nearly an hour’s more discussion of what happened and where to go from here, the two lovers went to bed. There, they reaffirmed their love in both words and actions.
An Opening
Two months later Jonathan and David had just finished dinner when Jonathan went on a quick errand to pick up a six-pack. David got a phone call from his mother. “David, your father’s birthday is Friday and we’re having a little celebration ... dinner out and a birthday cake at home later. We’d like you and Jonathan to join us.”
“Are you sure, Mom? When Dad was here it was not a pleasant visit. Since then he won’t talk to me when I phone. I’m afraid there would be an argument that would spoil the celebration.”
“I know it’s a risk. But your father has had some time to cool down. He still disapproves of your living with Jonathan but he doesn’t rant about it anymore. Besides, Aunt Meg and Uncle Hank will be joining us. Your father wouldn’t dare expose what he considers dirty laundry in front of them. So here’s my thinking. With the imposed neutrality, it may give him a chance to see that you’re still the son he loved and was proud of.”
David thought there was very little chance that his Dad had calmed down much if at all but reasoned that if there were any chance of reconciliation it had to include some first steps. Moreover, his mother was no doubt acting as a facilitator by extending the invitation to dinner. “Okay. I’ll be there. But you said the invitation was for both me and Jonathan?”
“Yes.”
“That may not be a good idea. Jonathan is not family ... at least to Dad. His being there would be a constant reminder of our relationship. And I’m afraid that would put a serious damper on the celebration of his birthday.”
“Perhaps you’re right, Son. I included him because—to me—he IS a member of the family now. Please let him know that. And the two of you decide whether he comes with you on Friday.”
When Jonathan returned home, David recounted the telephone conversation with emphasis on the fact that both of them were invited. “That was very kind of your mother,” Jonathan said. “But I agree with you that my presence would probably inflame your father’s anger. Moreover, it’s a family gathering and I’m a member of your family only to your mother.”
“I’ve considered not even going myself. I’m afraid my being there would only upset Dad when he should be celebrating his birthday.”
After a brief consideration of the potential, Jonathan said, “I think you should go. And here’s my reasoning. One. Your mother obviously wants you there. Two. You owe it to your dad to honor him on his birthday ... to show that you still respect and love him. Three. Sooner or later your father will have to acknowledge that he loves you in spite of his disapproval of homosexuality. I think the birthday celebration can be a first step—and there’s sure to be more steps—toward his acceptance of our relationship. And finally, if you don’t go, it may very well reinforce his alienation toward you.”
“You’re right, of course. In fact, I’ve considered everything you mentioned. But I don’t look forward to going. It may only upset Dad more and widen the gulf he’s created between us.”
“That’s a possibility, I suppose. But look on it as a chance to prove to him that you’re still the same person you were. I recommend that you BE that person—intelligent, charming, and a master of social skills. Your mother and your aunt and uncle will admire you for that. Even your father will be sure to notice. That could do a lot to make a dent in his attitude ... to help him reconsider his opinion of you. In short, for what it’s worth, I think it’s up to you to begin the process of reconciliation. It’s far more likely to succeed if you take the lead because your dad won’t.”
“I’ll go. But I must admit I’m a little fearful that it will be a disaster.”
“Maybe. Maybe not, David. But it’s worth the effort. If it doesn’t turn out the way you hoped, you’re no worse off than you are now. But if there’s a chance—however slim—of beginning to break through the barrier of your dad’s bigotry, it’s worth trying.”
Hazards Faced
David arrived at his parents’ house ten minutes earlier than he was expected. His mother greeted him warmly. His father scowled and said nothing. “Happy Birthday, Dad,” David said cheerfully.
“Humph,” the man grunted.
Ignoring his father’s sullenness, David continued, “You know this is a special birthday for you. You’re forty years old. In Germany any birthday ending in a zero is called a round birthday and it’s an occasion for special celebration.”
“That so?” Mr. Andrews snorted with a distinct tone of sarcasm. “Well, I’m not German. I’m American. My values are different.” He glared at his son, paused, and added, “And you know what I’m talking about.”
Mrs. Andrews sensed the direction the conversation was going and interjected, “Good to see you, Son. You’re looking well. How’s the new job?”
Following his mother’s lead, David replied, “Very well. I’ve been able to find a foster home for a lot of children. You wouldn’t believe the lives they had before settling in to a safe environment. It takes some of them a while to feel comfortable in a new home because of their background ... deprivation, cruelty, neglect ... but it’s a good feeling to be a part of giving them a more normal childhood.”
“I thing that’s wonderful,” the woman gushed. “Don’t you agree, Norman?”
“I s’pose so,” the man mumbled and immediately left the room.
When her husband was out of earshot, Mrs. Andrews said, “Thank you for coming, David. I’m delighted to see you. I just wish your father felt the same way.”
“I do, too. And I’m sorry that he’s not willing to accept who I really am. But I think you’ll understand when I say I’ve been extremely happy with Jonathan. We love each other and want to spend our lives together. Dad may think it’s disgusting but I think it’s beautiful to be deeply in love.”
“I don’t pretend to understand your attraction to each other. I mean he’s an admirable young man ... but he’s a man. But this I know for sure. I love you and want the best for you. If you’re happy then I’m delighted.”
“Thanks, Mom. I love you, too. And I love Dad even though....”
The doorbell interrupted the conversation. “Oh,” the woman said. “That’ll be Meg and Hank.” She left to open the front door.
The evening’s dining and animated conversation passed without incident. David’s Aunt and Uncle made several inquiries about his work at the social services agency and expressed their admiration for the good he was doing for children in need of a home. David’s father participated in none of that discussion but remained uncharacteristically silent. At one point, Meg turned to Mr. Andrews and said, “You must be very proud of your son.”
“Yes,” the man replied but changed the subject of the conversation.
“I understand that you and your twin brother are sharing an apartment,” Hank said.
“Yes,” David replied. “It considerably cuts down on the living expenses.”
David’s father immediately summoned the waiter for the dessert menu. “I’m told they have a killer carrot cake here,” he said, successfully derailing what he feared would be further discussion of the relationship between the two young men. Only David and his mother recognized it as a tactic to prevent what the man regarded as shameful information from being revealed.
Mrs. Andrews reminded her husband, “We have a birthday cake at home. We can have that for desert. The man frowned. “In that case,” he said, “I’ll pay the tab and we can be on our way.”
After half an hour at the Andrews’ home for cake and coffee, David excused himself and stood. “It’s a bit of a drive home so I think I ought to be on my way.”
His mother rose, crossed the room, and gave her son a short hug. “Thanks for coming. I hope you come to visit often.”
David recognized the underlying message—keep in contact, your father will change his attitude. “I will, Mom,” he replied and then walked toward his father who did not get up from his chair for a hug. When David said, “Happy Birthday, Dad,” and extended his hand, the man returned the gesture and shook his son’s hand if only for appearances in front of his brother and sister-in-law. But, significantly, he said nothing.
Upon returning home, David told Jonathan of the evening’s events and concluded by saying, “I’m afraid Dad is locked into an opinion that is resistant to any change. His prejudice doesn’t allow any contradicting perspective. It’s as though—like Alice in Wonderland—he’s fallen into a rabbit hole and is lost in the Queen’s Garden, cursing everything above ground.”
“Perhaps,” Jonathan mused. “But it’s still possible that your aunt and uncle’s high regard for your achievements and your goal of helping others, together with your mother’s influence, will have an effect. I think you should be patient ... and continue trying to break the shackles that distort his thinking. I know it won’t be easy. I know it may take a long time. And you should know that I’ll support you in whatever you decide to do.”
“Thanks, Luv. I don’t think I could manage without you.”
They kissed. It was late so they went to bed where they reaffirmed their union by making love before falling asleep in a contented embrace.
Confessions
A short time later, the two Mrs. Andrews—Meg and her sister-in-law Janice, David’s mother— met for a shopping trip to the Mall and late lunch afterwards in their favorite Italian restaurant. After a delicious meal, the restaurant was nearly empty but they lingered over a cocktail to continue their lively conversation. Meg commented, “That was a lovely birthday party for Norman. I thoroughly enjoyed hearing about David’s work at the Social Services Agency. You must be very proud of him.”
“I most certainly am,” Janice gushed. “And I’m very pleased that he seems so happy in the job. It came as a bit of a surprise when he took the job. He had never mentioned to us that he wanted to do that kind of work. But the important thing is that he’s happy.”
“I’ve been wondering—you might even say worrying, Janice. Norman didn’t seem to be himself during dinner or at home when we were enjoying the birthday cake, which was delicious, by the way. Was something troubling Norman? If it’s none of my business, just say so.”
Janice paused to consider how to answer Meg’s question. Was she willing to explain the reason for her husband’s sullenness? “Why do you ask? Norm is Norm. He has his ups and downs.”
“I understand that. But it seemed like there was something strange about his behavior. Partictularly, his interactions with David. They were very few and ... well ... appeared to be forced and strained.”
By this time, after a second cocktail, the usual social inhibitions of both women had faded away. Meg led up to her real question with another. “David and Jonathan are not only twins but are good friends. Is that right?”
“Yes. They hit it off together the moment they met.”
“Very good friends?” Meg asked.
“That’s right.”
Meg leans toward her sister-in-law and asks quietly, “Are they gay?
Janice was shocked by the bluntness of the question. She paused for several seconds before nodding her head and answering, “Yes. That’s what upset Norman at the birthday dinner. And afterwards at home. He just can’t accept it. He tries to contain his distress but it obviously shows if you noticed something.”
“And how do you feel about it?”
“I can’t honestly say I like it. But he’s still my son and I love him. Moreover, since he’s gay, I can’t think of a better person than Jonathan for him to be living with. I’m quickly beginning to love Jonathan. And quite willing to accept him as part of the family.”
Meg expected a denial and was stunned by Janice’s candid and obviously honest disclosure. She sat back in her chair to absorb the news for a moment before asking, “But Norm doesn’t share your opinion of the situation?”
“No. He can’t accept it. He has this notion that homosexuality is disgusting. He refuses to talk to David. Or even talk to me about our son.”
“For what it’s worth, dear, I think that what’s disgusting is his bigotry and turning his back on his only son.”
“Thank you for understanding, Meg. Of course you realize that what I’ve told you is confidential ... at least until the boys decide to reveal their relationship.”
“Of course! But it’s a shame that Norm isn’t living in the twentieth century. For heaven’s sake, it’s 1970! Not the Victorian age. I’m just glad Hank and I share the same attitude about sex.”
“Oh? And what’s that?”
“Haven’t your realized that after so many of our hints that we’re swingers?”
“Swingers? Whatever do you mean?”
“All right. You’ve been honest with me. I can only return the favor. Hank and I enjoy all kinds of sex. With other people. We go either way—threesomes, foursomes, orgies with a half dozen like-minded people. I’m surprised you haven’t recognized the hints that we’ve dropped over the years.”
“Doesn’t that affect your marriage ... I mean do you still love each other?”
“More than ever. We both look on our occasional escapades as nothing more than recreation. With no expectation of a long-term, emotional consequences. If anything, our extra-marital flings have taught us new ways to satisfy each other in bed.”
Without thinking, Janice replied almost absent-mindedly, “Norm could benefit from learning a few more techniques.” Suddenly realizing what she said, she added, “But of course he would NEVER consider doing what you do. For that matter, I’m not sure I would, either.”
Reaching across the table, Meg placed her hand on Janice’s, grinned, and said, “If you ever change your mind, let me know. There are married men AND women who come alone to our parties.”
Janice briefly considered the possibilities and replied, “Not likely. But if I do...” She caught herself before finishing the sentence.
Meg smiled and said, “Any time, dear.”
Janice could think of nothing else as she drove home.
Epilogue
Two old men sat on the shore of Mackinac Island, enjoying the sunset that cast a golden glow on the natural scenery to match the glow each man felt not only from the idyllic surroundings but from the pervasive satisfaction of being together and the intensely rewarding feeling of loving and being loved by his life partner.
Their conversation was sporadic with occasionally long pauses that were completely comfortable silence. After forty five years together, neither felt the need to maintain an active conversation. Or expected it from his partner. It was also fragmented. An eavesdropper would often have difficulty following the men’s train of thought. Again, this was because each man knew his partner’s thinking well enough to fill in the blanks.
“Look at that,” said the first man. “Just as breathtaking as when we first saw it. Some things never change.”
“Indeed!” the second man replied. “A few details perhaps. But it’s been many years.”
“That was a glorious time, wasn’t it?”
“And followed by many more over the years.”
“A few bumps on the road.”
“Yes, but we overcame the difficulties. Together!”
The men fell into a long silence, each recalling his life’s many twists and turns. After several minutes of contemplation, the first man said, “I have only one significant regret.”
“I know.”
“He was a good man. But like all men he had a few flaws.”
“You tried. Too bad he never understood us.”
“That final gesture of rejection was no surprise—bequeathing his entire estate to his church. I didn’t need it. That is, WE didn’t need it. All I ever wanted was some expression of love. Or just acceptance.”
“He DID love you. I think you know that.”
“But he never SAID it.”
“He couldn’t. It would endanger his core belief system.”
“In the Queen’s Garden.”
“Exactly. Lots of people live there.”
“Like O’Toole. It was wrong to fire you.”
“I thought so. But it was a lucky break.”
“You really excelled in your next job.”
“As did you.”
The men fell into a prolonged silence again. Several minutes later, the first man said, “The sun’s gone. It’s chilly. Wanna go back to the lodge?”
“Okay. Know what else I want?”
“Of course.”
Settling into bed, the two men repeated their first experience nearly five decades before. With three differences. Their actions were driven less by lust and by satisfying an unfulfilled yearning. Their bodies did not respond as quickly to stimulation. But their coupling was more significant because it was buttressed by enduring love.
“Thank you, David, for making my life a joy.”
“And I thank you, Jonathan, for the same reason.”
The End
Author’s Note:
Besides Gerry Young’s remarkable skill at correcting my careless grammar mistakes, he excels at giving valuable advice on content and tone of a story. I’m grateful for his help.
Posted: 10/31/14