The Perfect Family (19 page)

He heard Heather criticize him whenever they discussed Jamie now.

But most of all, he recalled his mother’s face, full of disappointment.

So he grabbed Barb’s hand and pulled her out to the dock.

*

Later that week, Maggie sat on a bench on the edge of the sprawling college lawn and pulled out her cell phone. April had dawned beautifully in upstate New York, bringing spring breezes and sunshine. Maggie needed warmth these days and the feel of the sun on her face.

The fact that she’d had little sleep the last month was catching up with her. She’d managed to get through her afternoon class and decided connecting with Caroline would cheer her up. Her sister was off from school today, so Maggie hoped to catch her.

The phone rang twice, then, “Hello.”

“Caroline, it’s Maggie.”

“Hi, honey. What a nice surprise.” They usually talked at the end of each week and e-mailed in between. Maggie wasn’t crazy about texting, and Caroline didn’t seem to favor it either.

“I had a few minutes so I thought I’d give you a ring. Can you talk?”

“Of course.” A pause. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“
Your
voice says you’re lying.”

Could she breach Jamie’s privacy and tell Caroline about the minefield her family life had become? She’d only told Gretta because Jamie said she could.

“I, um, can’t tell you what’s wrong. I promised I wouldn’t.”

Caroline waited a beat. “Sisters don’t count.”

Maggie laughed out loud. “I love hearing that, but no. I promised. I’ll be able to explain everything soon.” She hesitated. “But I do want to talk about Easter.”

A sudden, scary silence. “Did you tell Ma that we’re in touch again?”

“No, no, I didn’t.” This was the first time Caroline had brought up their mother, so Maggie seized the opportunity. “I’ll wait until you’re ready to break the news to her.”

“I know I’ve avoided discussing her. Coping with Derek’s death hasn’t left much room for other kinds of mourning. Besides, I’ve gotten used to blocking my childhood.”

“I’m not sure that’s bad. But, Caro, I did tell Sara. I kind of blurted it out after Ma had another of her hissy fits.”

“How did Sara take it?”

“Mixed. She was so little when you left, she really doesn’t remember you.”

“That’s sad.”

“I know, but you can rectify the situation when you visit at the end of May. Are you anxious for school to be done?”

Maggie heard a sniffle. “In some ways, so I get to see you. But Derek and I always went to our cottage on a lake out here the week after I finished.”

“I’m sorry, Caro.”

“Oh, Mags. This is so hard.”

“God, I wish I was there with you. Maybe the reunion we’ll have when you come here will take the edge off what you’re missing.”

“You know what? I think you’re right.”

“Little sisters usually are.”

She loved talking to Caroline, but today the loss of her for so long rubbed raw. Maybe because the threat of other potential losses loomed like a big black cloud in the sky.

*

Mike stepped into the interior of St. Mary’s Church and felt a calm descend over him. Candles flickered on the altar and the atmosphere was still and hushed. Because he was early for his appointment with Father Pete, he sat in a pew and bowed his head.

So
, he said to God.
My life is in havoc mode. I need help. I need to do what’s right.

God didn’t talk back, but as time went on, Mike felt His presence.
I’ve been making mistakes. Acting foolishly. Hurting Maggie. I’m sorry for that. Sorry for not being a better father, husband. Even friend. Help me.

A hand settled on his shoulder. “Mike?”

He looked up at the kindly man who’d brought him closer to God. “Hi, Father Pete.”

“Would you like to pray more or talk now?” The priest’s expression was serene, his voice gentle. Age wrinkled his face and lines had deepened around his eyes in the years since Mike had known him. But his genuine fervor and love of God had never changed.

“Talk. I said I’d be home for dinner.”

They settled into an anteroom of the church proper. Father Pete took a chair at the desk and Mike dropped down in front of it. Behind the priest, a huge painting of the Sacred Heart beamed down on them. “So tell me what’s going on, Mike.”

Recounting all the details of the last weeks and how he’d let everyone down to a man he admired so much made Mike feel terrible.

Father Pete waited until he was done, then gave him a benevolent smile. “God’s with you in this. Don’t forget that.”

“I’ll try not to.”

“And your behavior’s understandable. You let off a little steam, but your concern is well founded.”

“How am I going to reconcile Jamie’s sexual preference with the church’s views on homosexuality?”

“First off, let’s be clear on what the church believes. We no longer think of the homosexual as irredeemable. We believe being gay or lesbian is a choice. By your choice of words, I see you do, too. But even if the congregant doesn’t want to change, that’s workable. All he has to do is refrain from acting on those sexual impulses.”

“Jamie has to be celibate all his life?”

“If that’s what it takes. God doesn’t give anyone a burden he can’t handle.”

Mike scowled.

“I see you don’t think your son can do that.”

“No, Father, I don’t. Celibacy is an abnormal state for human beings.”

Father Pete leaned over his desk, bracing himself on his forearms. “Listen, Mike, this is new to you. You don’t have to decide a path to take now. I’ve got some literature. Some information about why people are gay and what God expects of them. There are spiritual counselors within the church to talk to boys like Jamie. And there are reparative therapy camps at our disposal as well. They’re residential facilities that take kids who think they’re gay and lead them back into their natural state. The state God wants for them.”

The idea of sending kind, sensitive Jamie to a place like that disgusted Mike. He knew the elements of deprogramming camps. Isolation. Deprivation. Intolerance. Could Mike inflict that on his son in the name of God?

“I’ll get you the literature.”

He nodded.

“Do you think Jamie would come to talk to me?”

“I don’t know.”

“How about Maggie?”

“I doubt she’d come.”

“I’ve been worried about her. She needs God’s guidance in this, too.”

When Mike thought of how his wife stood up for Jamie, and how gently she’d treated Brian, he had trouble believing that God wouldn’t want her to do just what she’d done. And, as much as he hated it, the fact that she’d been searching for another church meant she still wanted God in her life.

He stood. “I’d like to pray some more before I go home.”

“A balm to the soul. Go ahead. I’ll bring the reading material out to you.”

Mike found his way back to a pew. This time, he dropped onto the hard kneeler. He folded his hands and bent his head.
Please
, he prayed.
Please help me to do the right thing.

*

It wasn’t until early the next week that Maggie noticed Heather hadn’t been around lately. She often stayed for supper and helped out with cooking. Thinking the girl would be safe dinner conversation, Maggie brought up her absence over a meal of comfort food—Southern fried chicken, potato salad, and corn on the cob. “Where’s Heather been all week?”

Brian’s light complexion reddened. Even as a child, he couldn’t hide his feelings. But it was Jamie’s reaction that drew their attention. He slammed down his glass on the table, startling everybody.

Brian’s head snapped up. “Shut up.”

“Excuse me?” This from Mike. “That’s not how we talk in this house.”

The boys glared at each other like sworn enemies. As far as Maggie knew, Brian and Jamie hadn’t spoken much since Jamie came out to him. She’d tried to encourage some communication between them, but they’d essentially told her to back off.

She turned to Brian. “What’s going on with Heather?”

“She broke up with me.”

“What?” Mike shook his head. “Why?”

“Personal reasons.”

Throwing back his chair, Jamie stood. “It’s because of me.”

Maggie’s heart plummeted. “Heather broke up with Brian because she found out you’re gay? I don’t believe it of her.”

“Not that.” Jamie’s stance was stiff. “It’s all over school that Brian screwed around on her at an orgy at the lake.”

Mike fell right into the father role he played so well. “Brian, is that—”

Brian bolted off his chair, circled the table, and launched himself at his brother. They stumbled backward and amidst the thuds and crashes, Buck flew in from the living room, barking frantically.

Fists connected with flesh as punches were thrown.

Maggie screamed, “Stop it, you two.”

Mike got between them and held Brian by the arms. Maggie circled behind Jamie, dragging him back. “I can’t believe you’d attack your brother,” Mike shouted.

“He had no right to tell.”

“Then it’s
true
?”

Blood trickled down Brian’s jaw from a cut on his lip. A quick glance told her Jamie’s nose was bleeding.

Mike yanked on Brian’s shoulders forcefully. “I asked you a question. You were part of an
orgy
at the lake?”

“I went up to Cummings’s cottage, and there were some girls there.” His hands curled at his sides. “I don’t wanna talk about this in a goddamned public forum.”

“You don’t have to,” Jamie spat out. “It’s obvious what you were doing.”

“Okay, Einstein, clue me in.”

“Proving you’re not like me. You really are a dumb jock.” He stalked from the room.

Mike said to Brian, “Get your jacket. You’re coming with me.”

“I don’t want to.”

“I don’t care. We’re going to hash this out, man-to-man.”

Maggie swallowed hard. She had no idea what to do, and so she stood helplessly in the center of the porch while Mike dragged Brian out of the house with him.

Trembling all over, she surveyed the room: one straight-back chair was upended on the floor, the coffee table was at an angle, and a lamp had shattered into pieces. It had broken her heart to watch her beloved sons duke it out in the home she’d created for them.

From the time the boys started wearing their adolescent shoes, the Davidsons had an unwritten rule at their house not to invade each other’s privacy. That meant they always knocked on closed doors and didn’t enter anyone’s space unless invited. There would be no snooping in a wallet or purse, no hacking into personal e-mail, no purposeful eavesdropping on conversations.

And no parental overriding of these dictums.

“But if you leave something lying around,” Maggie had warned, “like a note from a girl, or an essay you wrote for school, then it’s fair game. This includes what’s in your pockets when I do the laundry.”

They’d all abided by that agreement for years.

Maggie recalled that conversation a few days after the boys’ fight when she found Jamie’s journal sitting on the coffee table. Mike was at church to help with some banners for tomorrow’s Mass, and Jamie and Brian were still asleep. She had no idea what went on between Mike and Brian when they’d gone out that night of the fight, and Jamie withdrew into himself for the remainder of the week. Starved for information on how
he
was doing, at least, she decided to take a peek at the journal. Sitting in the sunlight streaming through the living room windows, she could hear the birds chirp happily outside.

She opened the leather-bound book gingerly. He’d read her some of his writing, and she smiled when she glimpsed previous entries with a mythology theme, an interest they shared. There was humor here, too, like the one about a vampire showing up at the blood drive Jamie had taken charge of this year. Leafing to the most recent ones, she skimmed them. These were not funny. They were deadly serious, about what had been happening with his coming out. “Free to Be You and Me” and “Alone” were heartbreaking. Then she came upon the poems about their family, particularly Mike and Brian.

My Father’s Hands

Strong enough to move mountains,

Soft enough to wipe tears,

My father’s hands were part of my life.

They had combed messy hair for church,

Tossed a ball in the backyard,

Fixed a bicycle chain

So I could ride with other kids.

Never had they fisted with anger,

Punched a hole through the wall,