Honesty - SF8 (39 page)

Ryan sat down next to her, drawing a slightly embarrassed chuckle from her partner. "I didn’t get much done tonight, huh?"

Running a fingertip along the edge of the bag Ryan agreed. "Not too much. Looks like you’re working on something, though," she guessed, lightly tapping Jamie’s temple.

Verdant eyes locked onto Ryan’s as Jamie asked, "You think I’m being a jerk, don’t you?"

A slow, startled blink was Ryan’s first response. Her second was a softly spoken, "Of course not, Honey. I would never think that of you."

"Well, what do you think?" Jamie persisted, knowing there was something going on behind those blue eyes that Ryan wasn’t sharing with her.

"I think you’ve had a very, very tough time of it, and I know that it’s going to take you a long time to decide how you want it to be between you and your father."

Giving her diplomatic lover a gentle elbow in the ribs, Jamie teased, "That was a very good non-answer."

Defending herself slightly, Ryan replied, "I mean it. I can’t put myself in your place. I’m sure that you’re making the decisions that feel like the right ones for you. That’s all that matters."

"No, it’s not, Ryan," Jamie insisted. "It’s also important that I maintain your respect."

Dark blue eyes gazed at her, the truth shining through brightly. "You have it. You always will."

"Answer one question for me," Jamie asked softly. "If this was your father, and he had done the same things, would you see him?"

"Yes," Ryan answered immediately.

"Jeez, didn’t have to spend too much time thinking of that answer, did you?" She seemed a little disappointed in the response, so Ryan hastened to explain.

"We have such different backgrounds, Jamie. That’s part of what influences me. Just because I couldn’t cut off contact with my father doesn’t mean that you should do the same. I mean that," she said earnestly.

"They why would you see your father again?" the smaller woman asked.

Ryan sighed heavily, hoping that Jamie could understand that her answer was applicable only to herself. "I’ve lost one parent, Jamie. I would never voluntarily give up my last one ."

The blonde head nodded slowly, realizing that Ryan would naturally feel that way. She got to her feet, extending a hand to pull the tall woman up. "Thanks. That helps a bit."

"I hope so, Jamie," Ryan said softly, wrapping her in a warm embrace. "I’ll do anything to help you."

"Thanks for taking time out of your day to see me, Poppa," Jamie said as she and her grandfather met just outside of the Swan Oyster Depot.

"Jamie," he said fondly, "I always enjoy seeing you. And buying me lunch at the Swan just sweetens the deal."

As they walked inside, she considered the changes the last few years had brought to their relationship. He treated her completely like an adult, she noted with satisfaction: showing her love and unqualified support, but never forcing his opinion on her, a lesson that she fervently wished he had imparted to his son.

She took his hand and walked into the restaurant, waiting until they were shown to their table to speak again. Looking at the older man with thoughtful concern she said, "I’m stuck, Poppa. I feel like I need to make a decision about my father and move on with my life, but I just can’t seem to get there."

He covered her small hand with his own and gazed into her eyes. "What does your heart tell you to do, Jamie?"

She blew out a breath, ruffling her bangs as she did so. "That’s a tough one. I suppose that my heart is pretty optimistic," she chuckled. "I want to believe that he—like everyone else—can change if they’re really motivated." Shrugging her shoulders she said, "Of course, at this point he’s given no indication that he’s motivated to change."

"Okay," Charles said, "that’s your heart. What does your head think?"

"Well, my head is not very optimistic. But it’s more than that," she admitted. "I’ve given him a lot of chances, Poppa, and he’s blown each one. Logically speaking, I’m terrified of what his next act will be. I feel like I should permanently cut off all future contact with him, just to protect myself and Ryan."

He nodded somberly, seeing the situation from her perspective. Their waiter brought menus and they perused them in silence for a moment, not speaking again until their orders were placed.

"What do you think I should do, Poppa?" she asked.

"I’m not sure I can tell you that, Jamie. I honestly think I’m too involved with both of you to be able to see the situation clearly." He shook his head, his brow deeply furrowed as he drew in a breath. "It’s so hard for me to see what he has become." He leaned back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose, looking like he was about to cry.

"You know what’s been on my mind lately?" Jamie asked. As he shook his head she continued, "I’ve been trying to understand how he turned out this way. It’s the nature versus nurture argument. How could such a loving, giving, compassionate man as you raise someone who’s capable of what my father’s shown that he’s capable of?"

Charles let out a sigh and smiled wanly. "I hate to admit this, Jamie, but your father was nurtured by a man who shared many of the same traits he’s exhibiting right now."

"Pardon?" she asked, her eyes growing wide.

He leaned back in his chair and gazed at her for a few moments, finally shaking his head slightly when he decided to reveal something very personal. "It’s true," he conceded. "I’ve always been glad that you didn’t know me when I was a younger man, Jamie, because you’d feel very differently about me. I think it’s time I explained a few things to you, Honey. It might not help you, but if there’s even a chance that it will, I’m happy to share my struggles."

"Your struggles?" she asked, not having any idea of where he was going with this train of thought.

"Yes, Honey. Twenty years ago I was struggling…with my faith and with my calling. I was just about the age your father is now, and I had finally come to realize that my dreams of being named bishop would likely not materialize."

"Bishop?" she gaped. "But…that’s not the type of thing that would appeal to you! You’ve always said you have no interest in the administrative duties that being bishop would entail."

"Not true," he said, shaking his head. "I was very much interested in being bishop. The power and prestige of the position were very compelling, Jamie, and I’ll admit that I practically lusted for it."

Trying to reconcile what he was telling her with what she knew of him, Jamie asked, "Why do you think you weren’t asked to become bishop?"

"I have a very good idea," he said, a small smile settling on his face. "I think I was considered to be too rigid, too doctrinaire to be able to deal with the problems of a diocese as large as ours."

"Too rigid!" She said this louder than she should have, and immediately lowered her voice. "You’re the most flexible man I know!"

"Thank you for saying that, Jamie, but now I’m not who I was then. Before the AIDS crisis hit San Francisco, I was the type of man that I now have nothing but pity for. I truly believed that the purpose of religion was to give people rules to live by…and I do mean rules! I thought that I had the answers to many, if not all, questions about moral living. I’m sure that even then I considered myself a liberal, but there was nothing truly liberal in my thinking."

Jamie looked at him with deep interest but said nothing, her shock rendering her unable to formulate a comment.

"I knew that many of the people that I depended on to help run the church were gay men. I said all the right things about tolerance and love, but I didn’t believe any of it. Deep inside I thought that gay people were misguided at best, eternally condemned at worst. I actually used to feel sorry for them, because they had such ‘empty’ lives—going from one meaningless sexual encounter to another. I’m embarrassed to admit that I believed that I was on a higher moral plain than my gay associates. They were the ‘other’…they were not like me."

Her mouth had dropped open and she gaped at him, unable to see the man he described in her loving, generous grandfather. "But how…? What changed you?"

"I didn’t change until it affected me personally," he admitted. "I was so self-involved that I was only able to see things clearly when my own interests were involved." He shook his head in shame at his hubris, but continued his story. "I began to lose some of the men who helped my church run efficiently. But even then I didn’t lose too much sleep over the issue. I believed that this illness was some form of tragic, but inevitable retribution for the lives that these men had led. Now, don’t get me wrong, Jamie," he said when he saw the stark disbelief in her green eyes. "I felt very badly for these people. I just wasn’t affected on a deep, personal basis. But all of that changed in 1984 when my music director developed AIDS. This was a man I had worked with closely for over ten years, Jamie, and for the first time, I allowed this disease to touch my heart. As I learned more about his life, and his circle of friends, I began to feel—really feel—the loss of so many people the disease had claimed. I saw the community rally around this man, and I began to see the rich, full life that he and many other gay people had fashioned for themselves. This man and his friends took me in and let me see what friendship and love and charity were really all about. I saw that my notions of sin and righteousness were just excuses for labeling behavior that I didn’t participate in. I began to open up and really see my fellow parishioners as they were. I began to understand the weaknesses that we all have, but I also was privileged to see the strength that so many people are blessed with."

"I saw that on the AIDS Ride," Jamie commented. "The courage of some of those people astounded me."

"Indeed," he agreed. "All I can say is that AIDS changed me in some very dramatic ways, Jamie. It allowed me to cast off my small-minded habits of looking down on people who don’t share my life choices. It opened me up to the experience of truly being with others as they are. It allowed me to see, for the first time in my life, that we are all truly children of God. Each one of us is as precious as the next. God creates each of us according to His plan, not our plans." He smiled at his granddaughter and grasped her hand gently, "I studied the issue, Jamie. I’d say that I read everything written on homosexuality and faith. Through study and prayer, I finally came to the conclusion that to reject a person because of the way God created him is just bad theology."

She squeezed his hand, as her head shook gently, "I feel the same way, Poppa. I think I came to believe this from your influence," she admitted. "It must have been much harder for you to have to figure this out for yourself."

"I labeled myself a man of faith, Jamie," he said softly, "but that title wasn’t apt until I took that journey and let those people help me discover what faith truly was."

Gazing at her grandfather for a moment, Jamie asked, "I appreciate that you’ve told me all of this, Poppa, but I don’t see how it all connects to my troubles."

"It does, Jamie, it truly does," he insisted. "I told you all of this as a way of partially explaining your father. The man who raised him was consumed by a desire for power and prestige and position. Oh, I tried to hide it beneath a humble, priestly exterior, but it was there, right under the surface. I did not give your father the proper moral guidance that a person needs in order to make the proper choices for himself. I understand that he’s made some very poor decisions in his life, but I truly believe that my poor example helped him make some of those choices." He looked at her intently, his green eyes focused on hers. "I was not able to change until I was confronted by a situation that I was intensely uncomfortable with. But when I was forced to look inward, I was able to open my eyes. I honestly think that this situation could present a similar possibility for being a life-changing event for your father."

"It sounds like you were in a place where you were willing to look at your life and make some changes, Poppa," she skeptically observed. "I don’t know that my father is in that place."

"I know the situation is different," he admitted. "And I don’t in any way absolve him of his responsibility for the dreadful things he has done. But I am saying that this could be an opportunity for you to help him to become the person that I believe he could be. I know that he loves you as much as he is able to love, Jamie. There is no one in his life that he is as connected to. I dread the thought of what will happen to him if you sever your ties."

Total silence enveloped the table as she reflected on his words. Jamie finally reached for her grandfather’s hand and grasped it securely with her own. "I have such a hard time reconciling the person that you say you were with the person that I’ve always known," she said, slowly shaking her head. "It’s almost incomprehensible."

"I have a hard time remembering what it was like to feel that way," he agreed. "But it’s good to force myself to remember once in a while. It shows me how the power of love can change anyone’s life."

"Anyone who wants to change," she added quietly. "That’s the key, Poppa. You were obviously open to it. I see no sign that my father is."

"You may be right, Jamie," he admitted. "If he’s unwilling to try, there’s nothing you can do. I don’t want to put pressure on you, Sweetheart, but if you can hang in there for a little while and just be patient, he might surprise you."

"Oh, he’s surprised me plenty," she said wryly, sparing her grandfather a small smile. "I’m just afraid his next surprise might involve bloodshed."