Chapter Twenty-Nine
LENA - ORANGE, CA
“Easy, killer,” I said. “Save some for the whales.”
“I could drink a gallon of water. What’re you trying to do—kill me?” Kate glared at me in mock horror.
My eyes narrowed jokingly. She snorted, laughing over the rim of her water glass.
Kate and I were back at it a week later. But this time, it was my turn to torture her. It was Saturday morning, postrun. We sat at an outdoor table at the Filling Station Cafe, a few blocks from my house, having brunch. Kate had inhaled several glasses of water in record time.
“I’m starving,” she said. “We must have burned a thousand calories on that run.”
“We barely ran three miles,” I teased.
The server came over and poured us both steaming mugs of coffee. After Kate ordered way too much food for two people, we relaxed back in our chairs. I stretched out my legs, enjoying the feeling of postrun endorphins working their magic.
She put down her coffee mug and looked at me, her expression growing serious. “Lena, so I’ve been thinking. You know how I mentioned I’m involved with COLAGE? I serve as one of their board members. I think you should get involved. I bet you’d love the group and get a lot out of it.”
I nodded, suspecting there was more. I could hear it in her voice.
“So, I just found out that the keynote speaker for an event they’re holding in the LA area in October had to back out, and they need to fill the spot.”
I pursed my lips together and waited. No, she couldn’t mean...
“I think you’d be perfect for it.”
“Me? Be the keynote speaker?” I shook my head as if this was the most asinine idea I’d ever heard. “What in the hell would I talk about? I don’t even know the group.”
“I was thinking about it,” Kate said, excited. “You can talk about the legal landscape for sexual orientation discrimination. That’s something you know a ton about. It’s timely and interesting—and would be a safe way to approach this.”
Safe? What a strange comment. Like I needed a strategy for something I had absolutely no intention of doing.
“Kate, I’m not going to be their keynote speaker. I wouldn’t feel comfortable.”
“Why? You’re an expert on this kind of law, Lena. It’s a perfect solution. You talk about some cool recent cases, strides made, areas that still need attention. They learn and get inspired. Win-win.”
“I’ve got enough going on. I’m planning my dad’s wedding, which is in two months, remember? This would just add to my stress right now. No thanks.”
“It would actually be the week after the wedding. And you don’t have to do much prep at all.
Just an outline of some legal points you could probably recite with your eyes closed.
Think about it, okay? For me?” Kate looked at me pleadingly, and I had the feeling this was more than just a favor. “And I think it would be good for you.”
There it was. The truth. She thought she was helping me. Seriously? Not helping, I wanted to scream. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.
“Lena, I know it’s bold, but I feel like it’s meant to be. We met for a reason. I can’t help thinking that your struggle with coming out will resonate.”
“My what? Kate, in case you haven’t noticed, I don’t need to come out—I’m not gay.” I glared at her. “My dad came out years ago. I’m fine with it. I just don’t need to scream it at the top of my lungs.”
“You know what I mean. At least, I think you do.” Now she looked uncomfortable too.
Good, that makes two of us, I thought.
She leaned forward. “Children of LGBTQ parents need to come out too. We often hide who we are as much as our parents do.”
So that’s what she meant. I cringed, imagining standing up publicly in front of a bunch of strangers, claiming my status as the daughter of a gay parent, like some kind of poster child.
“Just tell me you’ll consider it,” she said.
I remained silent. Stubborn to the core. That was the Italian in me.
“Okay, okay, I’ll stop pushing. I know I’m not your therapist.” Kate flashed a nervous smile.
Yeah, I stayed away from therapists for a reason.
Many reasons actually: my mother’s insistence we could take care of things ourselves and should not air our dirty laundry, the guidance counselor’s admonition to keep my family secret quiet, our desire to not get my father fired or thrown in jail.
Besides, I’d had my journal growing up, which I used to say was like therapy—much closer to the truth than I cared to admit.
Kate sure had some nerve psychoanalyzing me.
But I was afraid she might be right. I’d never thought of it quite that way before—that I was the one who needed to come out and was still allowing my past to define my present and future.
By hiding, I was giving so much power to those old wounds—the hurt little girl still held sway over me.
I was the one who wasn’t free. I envied Kate.
Sure, she had overstepped. But that didn’t make her entirely wrong.
“Come on, Lena. I just ran—what, a half marathon?—for you. The least you could do is help me with this,” Kate said teasingly.
“A half marathon? That was barely a five K,” I replied, feeling lighter.
“I’ll tell you what. For now, agree to it only as a lawyer who works in this area. Don’t worry about the personal side, okay? The board would be thrilled to have a replacement who can cover an interesting topic related to this group.”
I shook my head, not committing but feeling my anger dissipate. I took in a huge breath of air and let it out slowly. “I’ll think about it.” I shrugged.
Kate pounced. “Thank you so much, Lena. Truly. I hope you agree to do it. If you do, I’ll support you in any way I can.
Do an email introduction to the board members and help you outline your speech—whatever you need.
And of course, I’ll introduce you at the event before you go on stage. And cheer you on from the front row.”
“Okay, okay,” I said, wanting this line of conversation to end.
“‘Okay,’ you’ll think about it, or ‘okay,’ you’ll do it and take me up on my offer to help?” She looked at me expectantly, a twinkle in her eye.
“The latter,” I said, annoyed but already forgiving her.
As I waved goodbye a little while later, I felt a strange mix of fear and excitement, like a train had just left the station and was careening down the tracks, full speed ahead, with me on board, regardless of whether I wanted to be.
“You’re perfect for that speech, Lena. I don’t think you have to prep for it.
” Kevin and I were on our patio, eating breakfast the next morning, and I’d just finished rehashing the details of my conversation with Kate.
“Just be yourself. How many people—let alone lawyers—have close personal experience with the topic the way you do? Kate chose you for a reason.”
I looked away. I know why she chose me. That’s what’s stressing me out. I thought of Kate’s words again. Your struggle with coming out.
“Plus, you hardly ever talk about that aspect of your family or your background in public,” Kevin continued. “Probably because many people wouldn’t get it. This group certainly will. You’ll be in good company, Lena. And I’ll come if you want me to be there.” He grabbed my hand and squeezed it.
“I’m not planning to share my personal story about my father. I made that clear to Kate. Just the legal stuff.”
Kevin pulled back, looking disappointed. “Well, I think you should reconsider. If there’s ever a group to share your story with, it’s this one, Lena. Give it some thought. I think it’s time.”
It’s time? My personal story didn’t come with a sell-by date.
I knew I could speak to almost any group in my role as a discrimination lawyer.
But to tell a bunch of strangers—even ones with something truly unusual in common with me—about my deepest, darkest family secret that I’d hardly shared with anyone?
That seemed over the top. I never intended to become the spokesperson for children of gay parents.
“I don’t know. I’ll think about it,” I said, ready to stop talking about this.
I felt like I was in a trance. All I could focus on was the idea of standing in front of a large group of strangers in a very public setting, sharing something I typically kept private. In my mind’s eye, I was already up on that stage, staring at an audience of expectant faces—and it terrified me.
Then I thought of another expectant audience, albeit a much smaller one, and remembered something I had to do for my dad and Oliver’s wedding.
“Ugh,” I moaned.
“What?” Kevin asked. “Am I pushing too much?”
“No, it’s not that. I need to email the wedding officiant some details about my dad and Oliver. She wants me to share some tidbits about them so she can personalize the ceremony. I was supposed to do it earlier this week, but with everything going on with work lately, I forgot.”
“Do it tomorrow,” Kevin suggested.
“I could, but I’d rather just do it now and get it over with. Plus, you know me... I hate to be late for anything.”
“Okay. It shouldn’t take too long, right? Just send some fun anecdotes about them—how they met, what they like to do, stuff like that. I bet you’ll be surprised how easy it is once you sit down and put your mind to it.”
“Maybe I’ll look through some photos for inspiration. That’ll help me jot down some ideas for her.”
I went to our home office and fired up our sleeping iMac.
I opened the Family folder in my digital photo library and looked through some pictures from the last few years of outings with my dad and Oliver.
Boating adventures, check. Dinners at their favorite restaurants, check.
Classic cars, check. Lots of beach shots, check. The opera, check.