Page 25 of After the Rain

THIRTEEN

TRUTH AND CONSEQUENCES

WADE

T his session with Dr. Marlow felt different. The desperate confusion that had driven me here weeks ago had crystallized into something sharper, more honest. The truth I'd been dancing around for thirty-eight years was finally ready to be spoken out loud.

"I think I've known I was attracted to men for years," I said, the words falling into the quiet space between us like stones dropped into still water. "Maybe decades. I just convinced myself it was something else—admiration, friendship envy, anything but attraction."

Dr. Marlow nodded, her expression encouraging but unsurprised. "Tell me about those moments of recognition."

The memories came flooding back with painful clarity.

College friendships that had felt too intense, the way I'd focus on male actors in movies while Sarah commented on the women.

The complete absence of sexual interest after our divorce, which I'd attributed to emotional exhaustion rather than examining what it actually meant.

"There was this guy in my fraternity, Jake Morrison.

I told myself I wanted to be him—confident, athletic, popular.

But really, I just wanted to be near him.

I volunteered for every group project, found excuses to hang out in his room, felt this crushing disappointment when he started dating seriously. "

"What did you tell yourself about those feelings?"

"That I admired his confidence. That I wanted to learn from him. That straight guys could have intense male friendships without it meaning anything." I laughed, but it came out hollow. "I was so fucking good at lying to myself that I almost believed it."

"Wade, what you're describing isn't confusion about your sexuality. It's clarity that you weren't ready to accept."

The words hit me like a revelation. "I wasn't confused about my sexuality when I kissed Ezra. I was finally being honest about it for the first time in my adult life."

"How does that realization feel?"

"Terrifying. Liberating. Like I've been holding my breath for decades and can finally exhale.

" I paused, feeling the weight of everything I'd lost to denial.

"But also devastating. Sarah deserved better than a husband who was performing attraction instead of feeling it.

And I deserved better than a life built on lies. "

Dr. Marlow leaned forward slightly. "Wade, there's a difference between being confused about your sexuality and being confused about how to live authentically in a world that doesn't always accept LGBTQ+ people.

Being gay isn't the source of your confusion—fear of how others will react to your truth is what's been causing your distress. "

The distinction felt revolutionary. My sexuality wasn't the problem. My fear was.

"So what do I do with that?"

"You practice courage. You start making choices based on who you are rather than who you think you should be. And you remember that authenticity is a practice, not a destination."

Leaving therapy that day, I felt like I'd shed a skin I'd been wearing for too long. I was gay. I was attracted to Ezra. I wanted to build an authentic life for myself and Cooper. But I also understood that living openly in Cedar Falls would require more courage than I'd ever summoned before.

The work was just beginning.

That evening, I called Sarah to request another meeting. She arrived at Moonbeam Diner looking worried, clearly expecting bad news about Cooper or custody complications.

"What's going on?" she asked, sliding into the booth across from me. "You sounded serious on the phone."

"I have something important to tell you. About myself." I took a breath, feeling the weight of words that would change everything between us. "Sarah, I'm gay. I think I always have been, but I was too scared or too conditioned to admit it, even to myself."

Her reaction wasn't shock—it was recognition, like puzzle pieces clicking into place.

"Oh," she said quietly. "That... actually explains a lot about our marriage."

"What do you mean?"

"I always felt like you were trying so hard to be the perfect husband, but I never felt like you really wanted me. Not the way other men seemed to want their wives. I thought it was something wrong with me, that I wasn't attractive enough or interesting enough to hold your attention."

The pain in her voice nearly broke me. "Sarah, no. It was never about you not being enough. You're beautiful and smart and any straight man would be lucky to have you. I was the problem—I was trying to be something I'm not."

"Why didn't you figure this out before we got married?"

"Because I didn't let myself. I was so focused on doing what I thought I was supposed to do—find a good woman, settle down, have kids, build a normal life. I convinced myself that love would grow if I just tried hard enough."

Sarah was quiet for a long moment, processing. "Did you ever actually love me?"

"I loved you as a friend. I loved the life we built together, the family we created. But romantic love, sexual attraction—no. I was performing those feelings rather than experiencing them."

"That's heartbreaking," she said, but not angrily. "For both of us."

"I'm sorry, Sarah. I'm so fucking sorry I wasted fifteen years of your life."

"You didn't waste them. We got Cooper out of those years, and he's the best thing either of us has ever done. But Wade... Cooper deserves to see his father living authentically. I want him to grow up knowing it's safe to be whoever he is."

Her immediate support felt like an unexpected gift. I'd braced myself for anger, accusations, demands that I keep my sexuality private to protect Cooper from complications. Instead, she was thinking about what authenticity would teach our son.

"Thank you," I said, my voice cracking. "I was terrified you'd try to limit my custody, use this against me somehow."

"Never. You're a good father, Wade. Your sexuality doesn't change that.

" She paused, her expression growing serious.

"But I need to warn you about something.

My parents have been asking me to 'investigate' your friendship with Cooper's teacher.

They're convinced something inappropriate is happening, and they're looking for ammunition. "

The warning hit me like ice water. Richard and Linda Fletcher had never been my biggest fans, but they'd tolerated me as Cooper's father. If they knew I was gay, if they suspected I was involved with Ezra...

"How much do they know?"

"They've heard rumors around town about you and Ezra spending time together. Dad asked me point-blank if I thought there was anything romantic going on. I told him he was being ridiculous, but Wade... if you're planning to be open about who you are, you need to know they're already suspicious."

The implications settled over me like a weight. Custody battles, community judgment, professional consequences—all the fears that had kept me in the closet for thirty-eight years were lining up like dominoes, ready to fall.

Over the next few days, Sarah's warning proved prophetic. Her phone calls came at increasingly inconvenient times, her voice tight with stress I recognized from our worst fights during the divorce.

The first call came Tuesday evening while Cooper and I were working on homework.

"Wade, my parents are asking a lot of questions about you and Ezra," she said without preamble. "They want to know if you've been having him over to the house, if Cooper's been spending time with both of you together."

"What did you tell them?"

"The truth—that you and Ezra are friends, that Cooper likes his teacher, that there's nothing inappropriate happening. But Wade, they're really upset. Mom keeps saying things about 'protecting Cooper from influences' and Dad mentioned something about consulting their lawyer."

My stomach dropped. "Their lawyer?"

"I don't think they're serious yet, but they're... they're scared, Wade. They think something is happening that could hurt Cooper, and they don't understand that you being gay doesn't make you dangerous."

Wednesday brought another call, this one during my lunch break at work.

"They want to have dinner this weekend," Sarah said, sounding exhausted. "All of us—me, Cooper, you, them. They say they want to 'observe family dynamics' and make sure Cooper is 'thriving in his current environment.'"

"That sounds like they're building a case."

"I think they are. Wade, I'm trying to manage them, but they're not listening to me. They keep saying I'm too trusting, that I don't understand the dangers of having 'that kind of person' around Cooper."

Thursday's call came while I was picking Cooper up from school.

"Dad wants to hire a private investigator," Sarah said, her voice cracking. "He thinks if they can prove you and Ezra are... involved... they can petition the court for supervised visitation only."

"Can they do that?"

"I don't know. Maybe. Probably not successfully, but they could make our lives hell trying. Wade, I'm scared. I don't want to fight them, but I won't let them hurt you or Cooper with their prejudice."

But for the first time, the fear didn't paralyze me. It clarified my choices.

Saturday afternoon, I took Cooper to the hardware store to pick up supplies for the treehouse we'd been planning. He chattered excitedly about his upcoming birthday party, debating cake flavors and guest lists.

That's when we encountered Mrs. Garrett and her adult son in the lumber aisle. Her voice carried with the kind of theatrical volume that suggested she wanted to be overheard.

"That teacher is clearly inappropriate with the children," she was saying. "The way he looks at certain fathers during pickup... it's disgusting. Someone needs to protect these innocent children from that kind of influence."

Cooper didn't understand the words, but he sensed the hostility in her tone. He moved closer to me, his small hand finding mine.

"People like that shouldn't be around children," her son added. "It's not natural."