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truth is, I believe Ava and Matt made a good decision.”

    “Dad…?”

    “When I was growing up, my parents attended a pretty strict church, and we lived in a small town and….” He shook his head. “Back then, I was exposed to this list of things considered wrong: divorce, sex before marriage, and… well, homosexuality was pretty high on the list of things considered immoral. It’s what I was taught—what my parents and their parents believed, and life was painted to be pretty simple, as far as what should be expected.

    “Guy finds a girl. Falls in love. Gets married.” His eyes were downcast again, staring at his coffee cup, and I didn’t interrupt because it seemed he needed to talk, and I was actually curious to hear what he had to say. “I did that. I found your mother. Fell for her and we got married and… shit, I had all these preconceived notions about what my kids would be like, and you….” He trailed off, but I knew what he was saying, that I had come along and shattered all those wonderfully preconceived notions, because I hadn’t been what he wanted in a son. Not even close. “I guess I didn’t know how to relate to you, because you were… you were just so damn different from me, and we had nothing in common, James. Nothing. You sucked at sports. I didn’t get all that artsy crap… stuff , I mean artsy stuff you were into, like theater, and it kinda freaked me out, ya know, ’cause you were my kid, and I felt like we were as different as night and day.”

    We had been; hell, we still were, but I didn’t point that fact out because really, it did seem as if he was actually trying to talk to me in an honest fashion—without being deliberately insulting and hostile—and I figured I owed it to him to respect what he was attempting, even if he wasn’t so good at it. Right? But gods, this wasn’t comfortable, and I feared that—despite his best efforts—our little father/son powwow would end in a screaming match.

    “Anyway, I didn’t know how to talk to you—”

    “You never tried.” So much for not interrupting, but hey, the facts were the facts, and there wasn’t a chance in hell I would let him sit there and sugarcoat said facts.

    “Okay. I never tried. I never made an effort.”

    “Dad—”

    “You weren’t the son I wanted. Okay? There. I said it. I’m the big, bad bastard everyone says I am, but if we’re being truthful, there’s the truth.”

    “You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know.”

    “Jamie—”

    “I was a disappointment. Right? Couldn’t play ball. I was shy, nerdy, into theater and art, and then, to add insult to the great injury, I announced I was gay.”

    “Honestly? Yes. After everything else, finding out you were gay was too much for me.”

    “And it was a walk in the park for me,” I muttered.

    “I imagine not.” He had the good grace to sound sincere.

    “Look, Dad, I’m trying hard to be… well, I guess I’m trying to be open-minded and listen to what you’re trying to say, but I’ve got to say, I don’t really understand.”

    “I know. I’m not doing this well. I’m not good at admitting I’ve made mistakes, but the fact is I’ve made nothing but mistakes with you, and I’m sorry.”

    “Dad—”

    “I never gave you a chance, never gave us a chance, to have a real relationship, and I’ve said some horrible things to you—”

    “And Payne.”

    “And Payne,” he agreed. “And I’ll apologize to him, but I… damn it, James, I’ve lost one child because some other drunk drove when he shouldn’t have, and I know I lost you a long time ago because I was a jackass, but I… maybe , if you want, maybe we can try and at least become friends.”

    I had never heard my father sound so lost, so unsure of himself, and it was unsettling, but I realized he was sincerely opening up to me—and possible rejection—and despite the troubled past we shared and the anger I certainly still harbored on