Chapter Twenty-Five
TERESA - JOHNSTON, NY
Teresa saw the car in front of her momentarily inch forward and took her foot briefly off the brake to follow suit.
She was trying to snap out of the funk she’d been in since Rosa’s death.
That night, she’d picked Lena up from track practice, but she wasn’t in any mood to cook so was at McDonald’s, in line at the drive-through.
She had no interest in going inside and being around strangers.
She looked over at Lena, who appeared lost in thought.
Teresa’s thoughts wandered to Frank, who took up so much space in her mind even though she’d ignored him in the weeks since her mother had died, only speaking to him in cryptic sentences when absolutely necessary.
He tried to engage her when they were alone, making excuses for his behavior. “It’s not what you think. It doesn’t mean anything. I won’t see him anymore. I slipped up, but it won’t happen again.”
Lies and more lies but no apologies. Is this how it ends—sixteen years of marriage dismissed with a few angry words and a closed elevator door?
Teresa knew in her heart that figuring this out would be insurmountable.
Her patience was as brittle and thin as a sheet of ice ready to melt.
Frank would never change. She could never make him change.
The situation with Frank had stripped away all her innocence, and the only answer that kept coming to her was Get out.
But then this voice in her head would reply, Easier said than done.
Some couples divorced and survived it. It didn't look easy. She’d have to get a full-time job. Frank would have to pay child support, and they’d have to set up a visitation schedule for Anthony and Lena.
She cringed, realizing she’d be a divorcée.
Many married people viewed divorce as a communicable disease.
It branded a woman as someone who couldn't make her marriage work and was now prowling after other women's husbands to steal them away so she’d have a man again to provide for her and her children. Jesus.
Even worse, not only couldn't she get her marriage to work, but she couldn't even get her husband to want to be with a woman, or at least not with her. People would view her as a total failure. A dread filled her, seeping through her blood like an injection of ice water.
He should leave. I should have kicked him out years ago.
It wasn’t enough anymore that they had children together.
Teresa didn’t want Anthony and Lena to be children of divorce but worried about hurting them more by staying in a sham of a marriage.
She didn’t want them to see her resentment and anger and wonder why she’d allowed it to go on so long.
She pulled up to the drive-through window and ordered a Big Mac for Anthony, a Quarter Pounder for herself, and a small hamburger and fries for Lena.
“Can we pull over and eat it here? I don’t think I can wait until we get home. I’m so hungry,” Lena whined.
“Sure,” Teresa said.
Anthony wouldn’t be home from his wrestling tournament for another hour. Once they got their order, Teresa pulled into a parking spot, and they began to eat. Lena attacked her food with gusto, shoveling french fries in her mouth.
“Slow down,” Teresa admonished. “You’ll get sick if you eat so fast. You should have a snack before track practice. It isn’t good to be this hungry.”
Lena nodded, smiling while chewing. She swallowed. “Good idea. I swear Coach is trying to kill us at practice.”
Teresa laughed and leaned back in her seat, enjoying her food at a slower pace.
She glanced to the right and saw two men walking across the back of the parking lot, holding hands.
Teresa felt flushed. She glanced over at Lena to see if she’d noticed them.
Lena was eating her hamburger, looking down at her lap.
She glanced up at Teresa and instantly turned toward the two men as if Teresa had been pointing that way with a neon sign that read, Look to Your Right.
Lena stopped eating, watching the men intently. One of them leaned over and kissed the other full on the mouth. Fear gripped Teresa as she watched her daughter observe the scene. She tried to swallow the last bite of food she’d taken, but it felt like a ball in her mouth.
Lena turned to Teresa and whispered, “Mom? I think I know what Dad is.”
“What? What do you mean, what he is?”
Of course, Teresa knew exactly what Lena meant. But she was shocked.
Lena looked at her sheepishly. “Do you think Dad likes men... sort of, he like likes them?”
Teresa sat, dumbfounded, not trusting herself to speak. She busied herself by wiping her mouth with a napkin, stalling for time. Then she reached for Lena’s hand.
“I think some of Dad’s friends are... more than friends,” Lena continued.
Teresa squeezed her hand hard, willing her to go on.
“Like Henry. I saw them on the boat a few years ago and wondered about them.” Lena’s eyes looked like big glassy orbs as tears built up but didn’t flow.
“Oh, Lena, honey...” Teresa soothed. “I’m so sorry. I wish you’d come to me.”
“I wanted to tell you—honestly, I did. But I was scared.”
“Scared of telling me? You know you can tell me anything.”
Lena wailed, letting the sobs escape. “No, Mom, I was scared of being right. About what it would mean. About hurting you.”
“Sweetheart, what did you see that made you wonder about them? It’s okay. You can tell me now.”
Lena looked out the window as if the past lay there, off in the distance. “It’s hard to explain. It was just a moment, but I felt like I caught them together. They looked like... a couple.”
Teresa stroked Lena’s hand. “It breaks my heart that you were scared. You must have felt so alone.”
“I tried talking to Anthony, but he didn’t think anything was wrong. So I started doubting myself. But then we had that sex ed class in school this semester, ’member?” She hiccupped as another sob escaped. “And we learned about... homosexuality. And I knew I’d been right.”
Lena started sobbing harder, and Teresa hugged her, stroking her hair and whispering, “Shh, it’s okay, Lena. It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not, Mom. I know what Dad is. He’s one of them.” Lena was breathing fast, and Teresa could feel her trembling. Her forehead was sweating, and her sobs morphed into choking.
“Lena, calm down, sweetie. You’re making me nervous.”
Lena frenetically shook her hands. “I feel strange. My heart is going too fast. I feel like I can’t breathe.”
“Breathe, Lena, now. Breathe slowly with me.” Teresa rubbed Lena’s back. What is happening? She breathed deeply in and out, and Lena mimicked her. “That’s it. In... and out. In... and out.”
A minute later, which felt excruciatingly long to Teresa, Lena’s breathing had stabilized. Her face was pale, but Teresa was relieved that overall, Lena was noticeably calmer.
“Lena, listen to me.” Teresa grabbed a napkin from the pile and gently wiped her daughter’s tear-strewn face.
“Thank you for telling me. I’m sorry you had to carry that for so long by yourself.
I love you. We’ll talk more about this—I promise.
But for now, let’s go home. I want you to rest and stay calm, you hear me?
You scared the hell out of me just now.” Teresa caught a sob in her own throat and hugged Lena firmly.
For a while, Teresa had sensed that her daughter knew what was going on but hoped she didn’t know the extent of it.
Teresa wanted to protect her. So she’d lied to Lena about Frank’s late nights and absences over the years, providing cover for his indiscretions.
Now the harsh reality dawned on her: she’d been teaching Lena how to lie as well.
To be a liar. And here was her thirteen-year-old daughter, telling her she knew exactly what was going on, and all Teresa could think was Who in the world did we think we were fooling?
Teresa felt heavy with the weight of lies. There were so many layers.
When they got home, Lena went straight upstairs to her room, and Teresa knew what she was doing.
She was writing in that diary of hers. Teresa often wondered what she put in there.
She was the one to give Lena her first journal.
She’d wanted Lena to have a place to write out her emotions, the way Teresa had with her journals over the years.
She realized that the thing to do at the moment was to give Lena the space to let her thoughts flow.
This was one way she saw herself in her daughter—the place they felt most comfortable telling the truth was to a blank page.
They both held so much in and didn’t share with others. .. and then it spilled out on paper.
With their dog, Libby, in her arms, Teresa shuffled upstairs to her bedroom. She gingerly opened her nightstand and pulled out her journal, knowing she would find the entry in blue ink with the words she’d written on the night her mother died. She reached for those words now, grasping at the truth.
This wasn't all in her head. It wasn't just a bad dream she could wake up from. It was a reality. And she’d finally come to terms with it. And that meant she had to let Frank go. Teresa was already lonely with Frank. Now she needed to learn how to be alone without him.
She flipped through the pages with shaking hands until she saw the entry. There it was, taunting her, reminding her she was making the right decision even though it was killing her inside.
That night, when she’d arrived home from the hospital, she’d come to a conclusion that became the turning point of her marriage and life.
She’d known about her husband years before, but until she wrote it down with her own hand, it hadn’t seemed real.
Now as she stared at those words, it was all too real.
For there they were, calling her out, no longer letting her stay in denial—the words she’d never fully spoken out loud.
My husband is gay.