On the plane home, as he watched his island disappear into the distance, the tears came easily. He ran through all of the compromises of both his values and desires he’d made over the years. All of these shameful actions and choices, he now had to acknowledge, were made to present to the world a person, a life, that his mother would be proud of. Whom his mother would love. Somewhere, deep down though, he had always known she had no such capacity. He and his sister had been pining for a mother who’d never wanted to be a parent to begin with. But Prieto had. His daughter was a gift in his life his younger self never thought he’d be able to have. She gave him purpose and filled him with love.
When his plane landed, his intention had been to go directly to Olga’s. To tell her everything. About the visit, about the Selbys, all of it. When she didn’t answer his calls, he didn’t want the courage he’d mustered to go to waste and decided that that day was as good as any to finally talk to Lourdes.
* * *
SHE DIDN’T LIKE getting picked up from school anymore. She was big now and wanted to walk home with her friends, but he figured if he tried to lure her in with a slice from L & B, she might look past him “embarrassing her” by showing up. The drive there was uneventful, mainly peppered with recaps of the latest season of The Voice.
“So, Lourdes, what’s up at school?” he asked once they were seated. “Are people, like, crushing on other people yet? Or are y’all too young for that?”
“I mean, I don’t like anybody, if that’s what you’re asking.”
He felt relieved but also guilty that he couldn’t find a more creative way into this topic without giving her the third degree. Where was his sister? She’d have known how to do this.
“Nah, nah. I mean, you’re young. There’s time. I’m just curious.… You know when I was your age, everybody made a big fuss over what girl liked what boy and vice versa and if you didn’t like anybody after, I don’t know, seventh, eighth grade, everybody called you gay, you know?”
“So?”
“So, what? What do you mean so?”
“So, they’d call you gay. So what? Tomás is into boys. He told us last year.”
“Sonya’s kid? That little boy told you last year—when he was ten years old—that he was gay?”
“Queer, Papi. But, yeah, he told us he likes boys.”
“And he’s the only one?”
“I mean, probably not, but like, it’s not a big deal. People like who they like.”
“That’s true,” Prieto said.
“I feel bad for them, though.”
“Who? Tomás?”
“No. The little kids when you were young. That were gay. That they would get made fun of. It’s stupid.”
This was his window. He knew. He took a sip of his Coke.
“You know, Lourdes, when I was little I wasn’t as cool as you. My sister, she was more like you. Didn’t care what anybody thought about nothing. Lots of confidence. Me? I was worried about getting picked on. Always wanted to fit in. Make people like me. It’s probably not my best trait.”
“I mean, we all have our flaws. That’s what Mami always says.”
“True. But my point is, I was too afraid of getting made fun of to let people know who I really was, if you know what I mean.” He paused here. This was not the time to punk out. “Or, more clearly, I wanted to tell you that I’m gay.”
Her eyes got a little wide.
“Does Mami know?”
“No. I wanted to tell you first. But, I’ll tell her. She might be a little angry. Because the truth is, I knew I was gay when we got married, but I really wanted … well, you.”
“You know guys can get married now, right?” she asked.
“Yes, mija. I was a city councilman when that law passed here. But you probably don’t remember.”
“So, is that it?” she asked, as if he hadn’t just done the hardest thing in his life.
“Well, the truth is, not really. Recently, I found out that I am HIV-positive. But I promise you, I am totally healthy.”
“Like Oliver on How to Get Away with Murder?”
“Excuse me? Why are you watching that show?”
“I watched it with Tía Lola one night and now it’s on Netflix. Anyway, he has HIV and he’s fine.”
She took a bite of her pizza as he wondered why he felt so stupid.
“Do you have a boyfriend?” she asked. “Oliver does.”