them, and I still wonder sometimes about who the hell I am. I think that's the key for all of us eventually—who are we, what do we believe, what are we living, and is this the life we want to lead? I try to ask myself these questions every day, and I don't always know the answers. But at least I try to find them, and I'm not hurting anyone else while I do.
“I think the real travesty of people like my parents having kids, or adopting them, is that they really have no business having kids. I know that much about myself, which is why I don't want kids, and never did. But I try to tell myself my parents did their best, however lousy that was for me. I just don't want to recreate the same misery, and hurt someone out of my own selfish need to reproduce. I think in my case it's best for the bloodline and the insanity to stop here.” He had always felt extremely responsible about not having children, and still had no regrets about his decision not to have any. He felt utterly incapable of taking care of children, or giving them what they'd need. The thought of getting attached to them, or having them depend on him, seemed terrifying to him. He didn't want to let them down, or have them expect more of him than he could give. He didn't want to hurt or disappoint anyone as he had been in his youth. It never occurred to him that the women he constantly rescued and took care of were in effect children for him, birds with broken wings. He had an overwhelming need to nurture someone, and they met that need for him. Adam thought he would have made a good father, because he was a kind, intelligent man, with strong moral values, but Gray did not agree.
“What about you, Charlie?” Adam asked. He was bolder than Gray about moving through sacred gates and across boundaries, going where angels feared to tread. Adam always asked painful questions that made one think. “How normal was your family when you were a kid? Gray and I are competing here for having had the shit parents of the year, and I'm not sure who would win first prize, his or mine. Mine were more obviously traditional, but they didn't have much more to give than his.” They had all had a fair amount to drink by then, and Adam wasn't shy about asking Charlie to open up about his youth. They had no secrets from each other, and Adam had always told both of them everything. As had Gray. Charlie was more private by nature, and far less expansive and forthcoming about his past.
“They were perfect, actually,” he said with a sigh. “Loving, giving, kind, understanding, never abusive. My mother was the most loving, sensitive woman on earth. Affectionate, funny, beautiful. And my father was a truly good man. He was my hero and role model in all things. They were wonderful, and so was my childhood, and then they died. End of story. Sixteen happy years, and then my sister and I were alone in a big house, with a lot of money, and servants to take care of us, and a foundation for her to learn how to run. She dropped out of Vassar to take care of me, which she did beautifully for two years, until I went to college. She had no other life, just me. I don't think she even had a date during that time. Then I went off to Princeton, and she was sick by then, although I didn't know that for a while, and then she died. The three best people on earth, gone. Listening to you two makes me realize how lucky I was, not because of the money, but because of the kind of people they were. They were wonderful parents, and Ellen was great. But people die, people leave. Things happen, and suddenly a whole world is gone and your life is changed. I would rather have lost the money than any of them. But no one gives you that choice. You have to play with the hand you're dealt. Speaking of which, anyone for a game of roulette?” he asked in a jovial tone, changing the subject, and the other two were silent as they nodded.
It was a painful story, and both men knew it was probably why Charlie had never