January 1 （visa expires in 13 days）
I met Daniel in the afternoon at a book-lined café in Old Phuket Town.
It was a quiet place where we could have some privacy.
Israeli tourists weren’t generally attracted to the library-like atmosphere.
I hadn’t been able to sleep after the phone call with my mother.
I needed to talk to Daniel even though I hadn’t fully absorbed all the details.
How could my relationship with Daniel have set something in motion on the other side of the world, in a place that was a parallel universe, as far as I was concerned?
Weirdly, the call had made me certain that Daniel and I had met for a reason – one that we were destined to discover together.
He seemed to sense something was up. He was tense; not his normal sunny self.
“So did you talk to her? Tell me everything!”
“Well,” I said when we’d found a table in the corner. “It was intense to hear her voice. For her too, I think. No matter how angry I am with her, she’s still my mother. The person that raised me. But I did ask her to explain herself.”
I took a deep breath and looked into his blue eyes before I said the words I knew he’d been dreading.
“She met your mother.”
He looked down; I couldn’t read him.
“Yes. I thought so.”
“But how? There are millions of people in New York!”
“You don’t understand what it’s like in a religious community outside Israel.
My parents are religious, your mother is too.
Religious Jews in New York eventually meet one another – kind of like us meeting at Chabad on Hannukah.
They meet, they marry. Everyone knows everyone because the community is so small.
Everyone is connected in one way or another.
It’s not a random coincidence. I’m guessing they met on Shabbat? ”
I was a bit hurt that he didn’t see our mothers’ meeting as destiny – some sort of expression of our connectedness that manifested itself a million miles away. I had naively assumed that he would understand that fate had intervened and be convinced not to leave. So stupid.
“They met before Shabbat at Chabad in Brooklyn, a few hours after you posted the picture.” I hesitated but there was no point dragging it out.
I hated seeing him like that. “I’m sorry Daniel, but your parents were upset.
My mother was shocked when they showed her the photo but then she put two and two together.
She tried to convince your folks that we are – how did she put it – a match made in heaven.
But they wouldn’t listen. They turned their backs on her. ”
“No surprises there.” They were the most bitter words I’d ever heard come out of Daniel’s mouth.
“I wasn’t aware they didn’t know…” Registering that he’d kept that detail from me annoyed me a bit, but I couldn’t be angry with him. Not now.
He took a deep breath.
“They didn’t know. I didn’t come out to my family or anyone else while I was there, and I haven’t said anything since.”
“So that picture with me…?”
“Yeah. It was a kind of coming out. It felt like the right time.”
Now I understood why he’d cried after posting the picture.
“Why didn’t you tell me? What were you afraid of?”
“I’m supposed to be the extrovert, the one who shares everything.
I didn’t want you to know that I was running scared, hiding something.
I didn’t want anyone to know that I haven’t always been the happy-go-lucky guy I am now.
I want to pretend I was born this way. But I was a different person in New York, one I’m not sure you would have liked.
Leaving was like starting over; my self-image improved, I was free to love guys, to let my true self out of its deep, dark hole.
So I’m desperate to preserve my image, even with you because, no matter how much I try to deny it, New York is still part of who I am. ”
We’re so good at putting up defenses, walls that keep us from being our true selves, with all our flaws and weaknesses. Even nomads can’t leave their personal problems behind; they just lug them to new settings. But Daniel had seemed so invincible, so happy and fulfilled.
“I told you that my life was pretty perfect there and I wasn’t lying.
That’s what I thought then, when I lived there.
It was only after I left that I realized how miserable I had been, how a huge part of me had been chained up.
Before, I thought that was just life – that I had to get over the frustration and loneliness because they were just a small part of me and to be thankful for all the rest: family, friends, home.
You get used to hard things; you stop resisting them.
It’s hard to explain, but you think you’re happy until you find out what real happiness feels like.
And now, I can’t go back. They’ll never accept me the way I am now, and I can’t accept me the way I was before. ”
“Maybe you never gave them the chance? If you explained to them… Instagram has its limitations, you know.”
“New York has this progressive, evolved image, but the Brooklyn Jewish community, or at least the part of it that I spent most of my life in, isn’t like that.
I have great friends that I care about, but there are no gay people in that community.
I didn’t want to be rejected, so I left on my own terms.”
“So how did your New York followers respond to the Instagram picture of us?”
“Some stopped following me, some didn’t react at all, some liked the post. But I had no idea about my parents’ reaction – until today.”
“You think they were surprised?”
“I had girlfriends in the past. Not relationships to be proud of, but they happened. So yes, I think my parents were surprised.” His voice wavered.
It was unbearable to see those eyes that I loved so much glazed with tears.
I held him close for a long time until he finally shed the tears he’d been holding back.
“We’re together in this, Pretty. You’re not alone. We’re not responsible for our parents or what they think. We’re old enough to make our own decisions and you’ve made all the right ones so far. I’m proud of you.”
Eventually he pulled out of my embrace.
“So tell me, how did your mother explain what she did?” His voice was steadier now.
“She told me what I already knew; that it was hard to live with my father after what happened. He refused to get psychological help. He saw therapy as weakness, as something for crazy people, not for tough former soldiers. When he got violent, my mother decided to leave, but she waited until I went to the army and wasn’t living at home.
She told him she wanted a divorce, but he was drunk and threatened her at gunpoint.
So she decided to leave Israel rather than live in constant fear of him finding her. ”
“But why didn’t she tell you? Why didn’t she stay in contact with you?”
“She said it was the hardest thing she’s ever done, but it was for my sake, to protect me in case my father tried to use my safety to blackmail her.
She said she did try to call after the neighbor told her I went to Thailand, but I didn’t answer.
I had already changed my number. She also sent emails to an old account that I never check. ”
I took a breath. All this was still fresh, raw and overwhelming.
“Did you forgive her for everything? Are you going to stay in touch?”
“Mostly I was just listening. Getting answers to questions that I’ve been holding onto for years. She wants to stay in touch, even…” I wasn’t sure about finishing the sentence.
“Even what?”
“She invited me to go and live with her in Brooklyn.”
“Wow. What did you say?”
“I told you, I just listened. I still need to process.”
Daniel was quiet. This time, he was the transparent one. I could read his mind.
“When does your visa expire?” It was time to put all the cards on the table.
“January 14, I think.”
“Less than two weeks. Have you booked a flight to your next destination?”
“No, I haven’t. I thought I’d try to stay a bit longer.”
“But at some point soon you’ll have to leave, or you’ll end up in a Thai prison.”
“I’m ready to go, right now, if you’ll go with me. Anywhere you like.”
“New York?”
“Anywhere in the world except New York.”
I was expecting that, but it still stung.
“I can’t be a nomad. I need stability. I would only give up the life I’ve built here in Thailand in exchange for another stable situation.”
“So we’ll have a long-distance relationship.”
“Will you go to New York at some point?”
“I’ll come to Phuket again and, if you’re in New York, we could travel across the U.S. I’ll show you Las Vegas and the Grand Canyon!” Daniel said eagerly, as if we were already packing our bags.
“But if I decide to live in New York you’ll never visit me there?” I wanted to know before I decided what was best for me.
We stared at each other for a second, but the waiter interrupted to ask if we needed anything else and if everything was okay. I wondered what he’d do if I told him how not okay everything was – it would take hours. Instead I looked at Daniel and said: “I think we deserve a mango shake.”