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I was terrified because with one word she could end my high school life, but I soon realized having at least one person to talk to made all the difference in the world.
    “You’re quiet,” Linda observed when I had said nothing for several minutes.
    The Rodeo Club was a local bar a block away from the sporting goods store my dad had owned and run for forty years. When he and mom decided to retire to Florida, Dad deeded the store to me. Linda had dropped by the store at closing and asked if I wanted to get a beer with her. Since my options consisted of going home, changing my clothes and heading to the YMCA to work out, going home to my parents’ empty house and staring blankly at TV until I went to sleep, or just going home to watch some porn while I got off before I went to sleep, I decided to go with Linda.
    This was what my life had boiled down to lately.
    “My mom called me,” I told her and examined the label on my beer intently, not wanting to make eye contact.
    “They want you to fly to Florida for Christmas?” She gestured for another round for us.
    I shook my head. “No. Mom and Dad know how much money we make over the holidays. There’s no way I could afford to close the store for that long.”
    “Are they okay?” Concern entered her voice, since she knew my parents pretty well.
    “Yeah, they’re fine,” I said, sighing.
    She grabbed the beer out of my hand to make me look at her. “I swear to God, Tyler, if you don’t tell me why you are pouting, I am going to shove this bottle so far up—”
    “Okay!” I said, cutting her off before she could finish the sentence. “She called me to tell me someone is gay.”
    That made her pause.
    “Someone from Foster,” I added, hoping she would get it.
    “Someone we knew?” she prompted patiently. She and I had pretty much hung out with the same crowd growing up. Since we didn’t as adults, she knew the person had to have been someone from the past. I nodded. “Who?”
    The thought that maybe I shouldn’t just blurt out someone’s sexuality because my friend asked passed my mind way too late to do any good. Now that I’d started, I couldn’t not talk about it, so I just shrugged and said, “Matt Wallace.”
    She stared at me for a few seconds before saying, “Um, yeah, everyone knows that.”
    Now it was my turn to stare. “Everyone?” I asked, disbelieving.
    She laughed and passed my half-empty beer back to me. “He went to Berkeley for college and ended up moving to San Francisco. If he isn’t gay, then he went an awful long way to be straight.”
    The bartender put down two bottles and took her empty away. I waited until he was out of earshot before I spoke. “You know not everyone in San Francisco is gay, right?”
    She took a long swig of her beer. “The ones who aren’t just can’t afford to move. Trust me, he’s gay.” Suddenly, all the light bulbs in her brain went on at the same time. Sitting up straighter, Linda seemed to think about it for a few seconds before asking, “Wait, how does your mother know?”
    Now she was getting it.
    “My mom talks to his mom.” I sounded like a condemned man. All I needed was a slow, deep drumbeat under my words.
    “Oh no,” she said, finally realizing what I was so quiet about.
    I’d spent most of high school going out with girls, trying to hide my true nature. Because I was on the football team and wasn’t a hideous chud creature, it wasn’t that hard to find someone to go out with. I never stayed with one girl because there wasn’t any way I could keep up the charade for any length of time. My game of musical girlfriends gave me a reputation as a player in town, not a bad player, because I never hit on them, but a player.
    Which, of course, my mom defined as “Tyler just hasn’t found the right girl yet.”
    My mother took it upon herself to be my own little matchmaker, a job she somehow changed into a crusade. Since I was too afraid to come out, there wasn’t much I could say so