have you really thought about what it’s like to be a single mother?”
“I know plenty of single mothers,” Jordana says archly. “I know exactly what’s involved.” But her voice is shaky.
Michael plows on, certain she’s not convinced, certain he can change her mind. “I know women who spent their entire lives wanting to be mothers, who found themselves pregnant, without partners, and went ahead,” he urges. “My friend Suzy got pregnant after a short fling, had always wanted a baby and now has an eight-year-old daughter, and hasn’t been out in eight years. And when the little one was a baby, Suzy was exhausted all the time. There was no one to relieve the burden, no one to support her when she was at the end of her tether, couldn’t cope. And you know what Suzy says now? She says that although she wouldn’t change anything, although she loves her daughter more than anything, if she could have done things differently she would have done. She won’t say her daughter is a mistake, but she does say the circumstances were a mistake, and that she has had no life for eight years.” Michael pauses, letting the words speak for themselves.
“Is that what you want, Jordana? Is that really what you want? Because this isn’t about a cute baby in designer clothing, who you can treat as an accessory. This is hard work. Exhausting. Much, much harder as a single parent.”
“Don’t patronize me,” Jordana says bitterly, when Michael has quite finished. “I know exactly what I’m doing, and however hard it might be, I am not going to have an abortion. I couldn’t live with myself knowing I had destroyed the life of our baby, and I’m disgusted you would even seriously suggest that to me.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to patronize you. I just think these are the worst circumstances in which to bring a baby into the world. This isn’t an unexpected gift, this is just wrong.”
“So is that it?” Jordana stands up, pushing her chair back so hard it almost falls over.
Michael sighs again. “I don’t know what else to say,” he says quietly.
“How about good-bye?” And she storms off inside, leaving Michael to walk miserably to his car.
The dinner has been served, and quiet conversations are occurring around the table, replacing the raucous laughter that erupted throughout the meal.
Roasted leg of lamb stuffed with figs and feta, Israeli couscous, a sumptuous raspberry pavlova for dessert. Never has Daniel eaten so well, nor felt so comfortable.
This is what he has been missing, he realizes; this is what he was looking for during those years of driving past gay bars, yearning. Ironically, this is why he was so reluctant to leave Bee all those years—because he didn’t know there was anything else out there, didn’t know it could be like this.
Three couples, all men, two of them married, and he and Matt. None of them having to prove anything, or hide anything, or feel anything other than completely relaxed in their skin.
Daniel looks around the table until his eyes finally come to rest on Matt, who is smiling at him.
“What?” Daniel cannot help a smile in return.
“It’s nice, isn’t it?”
“What?”
“Being out of the closet. Being with others like you.”
Daniel nods, swallowing a lump in his throat as Matt reaches over and gives his arm a reassuring squeeze.
“It feels like I’m home,” he says finally, tears in his eyes. “I just never thought it would feel this normal.”
“I know,” Matt says. “But it is normal. Just not the normal you were used to. Speaking of which, how are things with you and your wife now?”
“Soon-to-be-ex wife,” Daniel corrects. “Not great. She didn’t take it well, obviously, but there seems to be a détente for now. I’m trying very hard to remind her constantly that whatever we feel about each other, it isn’t about us, it’s about the girls.”
“And by that I suppose you don’t mean us?” Matt gestures around the table and Daniel laughs.
“No. These girls are much shorter and they’re related to me.”
“You’re such a big girl. I can’t believe you’re flying all by yourself.” Richard had wiped tears from his eyes as he stood hugging Jess good-bye at security.
Jess had squeezed him tightly, not wanting to leave, not wanting anything to change, but Carrie had sat at the computer with her yesterday, and they’d looked at pictures of Nantucket, read about the beaches, the museums, the boat trips, and she couldn’t help but feel a shiver of excitement