In the letter I told them everything. How it wasn't their fault, that I believe in my soul that I've always been gay. How it was a wonderful thing and not a curse. How it would never alter our relationship -- unless they chose it to. I reminded them over and over how much I loved them and that I forbade them to "blame" themselves. I would always be their son and they would always be Mama and Papa.
So.
My golf game was good. Excellent. I had beat poor Robert to death and he didn't have the foggiest idea why. Until we were sitting and having a coffee. I looked at my watch and realized it was still only eight o'clock. I had an hour before I had to go to work.
"Well, glory to the gods!" Robert shouted. He ordered us mimosas and toasted me for my long lost bravery. He was as impressed as I was. It was amazing, how, after one's mind is made up, easy it all seemed. Now it felt like the hard part was over. Oh, sure -- waiting for their response was gonna be tough. But I knew I'd already found the courage to take the risk. I knew they may hate me, may even disown me -- I was ready for that. I was prepared, if that's what it came to.
I was ready. I was so ready.
But I had no way of knowing what was waiting for me at work.
"Faggots," is what he calls us.
The word rung in my ear. Funny how we can call out that name all the time in jest, in fun. But when someone says it and means it -- it is powerful.
My immediate superior, Dave Jamison had just said it. Actually he had just repeated it. Seems our Commander- In-Chief, Phillip Anderson -- the President of Granville Sports Medicine-- is a raving homophobic bigot.
And when I told Dave that I was planning on coming out of the closet completely -- both at home with my parents and at the clinic -- well, Dave called it a "heart to heart" -- but we both knew what it was.
A strong warning.
To keep quiet about one's sexual preference.
Dave was gay and had once been in the same place as me. Needing to be completely honest, needing to be able to bring his lover (Dave and Manuel had been together for eleven years) to the office functions, the dinner parties, the celebrations-- meant Dave almost lost his job.
When the President found out he was "a faggot" he told Dave he would forgive him this one time for mentioning such a disgusting, degenerative lifestyle. But only once.
So when Dave and me had our "heart to heart" -- he meant to help. But I was shocked beyond words. I kept remembering Dr. Krantz's last words before I left my last job...
"Watch out for Philip Anderson, Eric. He's a back-biting bastard who insists you play by his rules."
I wonder if he had something on Dr. Krantz? Who knows. It didn't matter now because all I could imagine was Phillip Anderson pulling me aside and saying, "Just be careful, Eric. We like you here and it's only been a short time. We'd hate to lose you to untimely and premature difficulties with the clinic. And you know what I'm talking about."
I polished off a glass of Cabernet.
And tore up the letter to my parents.
