Page 52 of After the Rain

"Why were those people being mean about Mr. Mitchell? He's nice to everyone and helps us learn things."

I gripped the steering wheel, trying to find words that would protect Cooper's innocence while preparing him for the reality we might face.

"Some people don't understand that families can look different ways," I said carefully. "Some people think there's only one right way to live and love, and they get scared or angry when they see something different."

"But if someone is nice and helps people, why does it matter who they love?" Cooper's innocent logic cut through adult complexity like a knife. "I love you and I love Mommy and I love Mr. Mitchell. Love isn't bad."

"No, buddy. Love isn't bad. Some people just haven't learned that yet."

At home, Cooper helped me unload lumber while continuing to process the hardware store encounter.

"Daddy, are you worried about something? You seemed sad after that lady was mean."

I couldn't hide my emotional reactions from Cooper. He was too observant, too empathetic about the adults in his life.

"I'm concerned about some people being unkind to Mr. Mitchell," I said honestly. "It makes me sad when good people get treated badly."

"Maybe we should do something nice for him," Cooper suggested with the simple problem-solving approach that onlychildren possessed. "Like invite him for dinner or help him with his garden."

As we worked on measuring boards for the treehouse, Cooper made casual observations that revealed how much he'd absorbed about family diversity.

"My friend Emma has two moms, and Jake's dad lives with his boyfriend now. Mr. Mitchell said families look lots of different ways but they're all made of love."

I realized Ezra had been preparing Cooper for acceptance of different family structures, including potentially our own. The thought filled me with gratitude and something that might have been hope.

"Mr. Mitchell sounds very wise."

"He is. He knows lots of things about families and feelings and being kind to people who are different."

That evening, after Cooper's bedtime, I found myself thinking about Marcus Webb. My business partner had been unusually quiet during our recent meetings, and I'd caught him looking at me with what seemed like concern mixed with understanding.

Marcus had always been the more intuitive one in our partnership, better at reading people and situations than I was. If anyone might understand what I was going through, it would be him.

Before I could second-guess myself, I called his number.

"Wade?" Marcus answered on the second ring. "Everything okay? You sound stressed."

"Marcus, can we talk? I mean really talk. There's some stuff I'm figuring out about myself, and I could use perspective from someone I trust."

"Of course. You want to come over? Julie's at her book club, so we'd have privacy."

I hesitated. The monitor showed Cooper fast asleep, limbs sprawled, his stuffed dinosaur tucked under one arm. He wouldn’t even know I was gone. Still… I couldn't just walk out.

"Give me ten," I said, before ending the call.

I shot a quick text to Jazz.

Wade

Hey—can you come sit with Coop? He’s out for the night, but I need to step out.

Jazz

On my way.

Fifteen minutes later, she was on the couch in her paint-stained hoodie, remote in one hand, phone in the other. “Go,” she said, waving me toward the door. “I’ve got dinosaur duty.”

An hour later, I was sitting in Marcus's living room, nursing a beer and trying to find the courage to say what I'd come here to say

---