Page 47 of After the Rain

"That was... complex. My parents are Methodist—good people with kind hearts, but they struggled with reconciling their faith with having a gay son. They didn't reject me, but they didn't know how to support me either."

Wade's face showed understanding mixed with concern.

"They kept asking if I was sure, suggesting maybe I just needed to pray about it more, find the right girl, give God time to 'work in my heart.' They meant well, but it felt like they were waiting for me to become someone else—someone they could be comfortable with."

"That must have been incredibly isolating."

"It was. They loved me, but they couldn't love all of me. Every family dinner became this careful dance around topics that might remind them I was gay. They'd ask about my job, my apartment, my hobbies—but never about my actual life, never about who I was dating or if I was happy."

Wade reached across the table and touched my hand briefly. "How long did that last?"

"Years. It wasn't until I brought home my first serious boyfriend that things finally came to a head. I was twenty-five, had been teaching for two years, and I was tired of compartmentalizing my life to make them comfortable."

"What happened?"

"They were polite to him but clearly uncomfortable. After he left, my mom cried and asked if this meant they'd never have grandchildren, if I'd ever consider 'trying harder' to find happiness with a woman. My dad just looked disappointed, like I was choosing to make their lives more difficult."

"God, that's awful."

"The worst part was knowing they meant well. They weren't throwing me out or disowning me—they were just... grieving the son they thought they had, the future they'd imagined for me. It felt like I was constantly disappointing them just by existing."

"How did you get through it?"

"Uncle John, mostly. He helped me understand that I couldn't live my life trying to manage other people's emotionsabout my sexuality. That loving them didn't mean I had to shrink myself to fit their comfort zone."

Wade was quiet for a moment. "And now?"

"Better. Much better. It took time and patience and a lot of honest conversations, but they've learned to love all of me, not just the parts that were easy for them. They ask about my dating life now, send me articles about LGBTQ issues they think I'd find interesting. My mom even knits Christmas stockings for whatever boyfriend I bring home."

"That's beautiful."

"It is. But it took years to get there, and there were moments when I wasn't sure we would."

Wade was quiet for a long moment, processing everything I'd shared.

"I keep thinking about Cooper," he said finally. "About what kind of example I want to set for him. Do I want him to see me living authentically, or do I want him to learn that love is something to hide when it's inconvenient?"

"Those are the right questions to be asking."

"But they're terrifying questions. Because if I choose authenticity, if I choose to explore what I'm feeling for you, it affects him too. What if other kids bully him because his dad is gay? What if Sarah's parents try to limit my custody? What if I destroy his sense of security because I couldn't keep my own confusion private?"

The pain in his voice was devastating. Wade wasn't just grappling with his own identity—he was carrying the weight of how his choices might affect his son.

"Wade, can I tell you something my therapist told me when I was struggling with similar fears?"

He nodded.

"She said that children learn more from watching how we handle adversity than from being shielded from it entirely.Cooper is going to face challenges in life regardless of your sexuality. But if he sees you living honestly, if he watches you choose courage over comfort, he learns that it's safe to be authentic even when it's difficult."

"And if he gets hurt because of my choices?"

"Then you help him through it. You show him that love is worth fighting for, that standing up for who you are is worth the cost. You teach him that he doesn't have to live smaller to make other people comfortable."

Wade's eyes filled with tears he tried to blink away. "It's just so fucking scary. Everything I thought I knew about myself, about my future, about what my life was supposed to look like—it's all wrong."

"Not wrong," I said gently. "Just incomplete. You're not throwing away your past, Wade. You're adding new pieces to the puzzle of who you are."

"How do you do it? How do you live openly in a place like Cedar Falls where people watch your every move and judge you for things you can't control?"

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