Page 26 of After the Rain

The naked hatred directed at Ezra—and by extension, at me—hit like a physical blow. Cooper looked up at me with confused eyes, picking up on the tension without understanding its source.

"Daddy, what are they talking about?"

Before I could respond, Mrs. Garrett's voice rose again. "Parents need to know what's happening in their children's classrooms. Some people's lifestyles don't belong around impressionable young minds."

Something in me snapped. The protective instinct that had driven every major decision since Cooper was born roared to life, overriding my usual conflict avoidance.

I stepped around the corner, Cooper still holding my hand.

"Excuse me," I said, my voice carrying across the aisle.

"But Mr. Mitchell is an excellent teacher who cares deeply about all his students.

If you have concerns about the education your child is receiving, perhaps you should address them through proper channels instead of spreading gossip in public. "

Mrs. Garrett's face flushed red, clearly not expecting to be confronted. Her son stepped closer, his expression hostile.

"We're just concerned about protecting our children from inappropriate influences," Mrs. Garrett said, her voice dripping with false concern.

"There's nothing inappropriate about Mr. Mitchell's conduct as a teacher. But there is something inappropriate about adults spreading rumors and hatred where children can hear them."

Cooper tugged on my hand. "Daddy, why is everyone upset?"

"We're leaving," I said, picking up our lumber order and heading for the checkout. But not before Mrs. Garrett got in the last word.

"Some people's lifestyles don't belong around children. Parents have a right to know who's influencing their babies."

In the truck, Cooper's questions came fast and confused.

"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 only children 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

"I think I'm gay," I finally said, the words falling into the space between us like stones.

Marcus set down his beer and looked at me with an expression I couldn't read. "Okay. How are you feeling about that?"

"Terrified. Relieved. Like I've been lying to myself for thirty-eight years." I took a shaky breath. "Marcus, I need you to know this doesn't change anything about our business partnership. I'm still the same person, still?—"

"Wade." Marcus held up a hand, stopping my rambling. "Take a breath. You're my friend first, business partner second. Your sexuality doesn't change that."

The relief was overwhelming. "Thank you."

Marcus was quiet for a moment, seeming to wrestle with something. Finally, he spoke.

"Wade, can I tell you something? Something I've never told anyone except Julie?"

I nodded.

"I'm not entirely straight either." The words came out quietly, carefully. "I've been attracted to men for as long as I can remember, but I've also been attracted to women."

I stared at him, processing this revelation. "You're bisexual?"

"I think so. I've never acted on it, never explored it, because I found Julie and she was everything I wanted in a partner. But Wade, watching you struggle these past few weeks, seeing you tie yourself in knots over your feelings for Ezra... it's been like watching myself from the outside."

"You knew? About my feelings for Ezra?"

Marcus smiled sadly. "The way you light up when you talk about him? The way you've been questioning everything about yourself since you met him? Yeah, I knew. I recognized the signs because I've felt them myself."

"So when did you know?" I asked. "About being attracted to men?"

Marcus leaned back in his chair, considering the question. "College, probably. There was this guy in my business ethics class, Ryan. I found myself paying more attention to him than the material, making excuses to study together. I told myself it was just admiration, that I wanted to be like him."

The parallel to my own experience was striking. "But you married Julie."

"I did. And I love her, Wade. Completely, authentically love her. But that doesn't erase the other part of who I am." Marcus paused, choosing his words carefully. "I've learned that sexuality can be complex, that attraction doesn't always fit neat categories."

“When did you tell Julie?"

"Yes. About two years after we got married. I was terrified she'd leave me, think I'd deceived her somehow. But she said she appreciated my honesty, that she'd rather know all of me than love an incomplete version."

"How did that conversation go?"

Marcus smiled, but there was vulnerability in it. "Badly at first. She cried, asked if I was going to leave her for a man, if our marriage was a lie. It took time and couples therapy to work through it. But ultimately, it made us stronger. More honest with each other."

"Do you ever regret not exploring that part of yourself? Not dating men before you settled down?"

"Sometimes," Marcus admitted. "There's always a 'what if' in the back of my mind. But Wade, I chose the life I wanted. I chose Julie, I chose our marriage, I chose to build something real with her. That doesn't make me any less bisexual, but it does make me committed to the choices I've made."

"I don't think I have that luxury," I said quietly. "I can't choose to be straight, and I can't build something real with someone I'm not actually attracted to. I tried that with Sarah, and it hurt both of us."

"No, you can't. And you shouldn't. But Wade, you do have choices about how you move forward. You can choose courage over fear. You can choose authenticity over performance."

I nodded.

"Can I ask you something?" I said as our conversation wound down.

"Of course."

"Why are you telling me all this? You could have just listened to my confession and offered generic support."

Marcus smiled. "Because watching you struggle with this has been like watching myself ten years ago.

Because everyone deserves to know they're not alone in figuring out who they are.

And because..." He paused, seeming to wrestle with something.

"Because I see how you look when you talk about Ezra, and I recognize that look.

It's the same way Julie looks when she talks about something she loves deeply. "

"It's that obvious?"

"To someone who's been there? Yeah, it is. Wade, whatever you decide about coming out, about pursuing something with Ezra, just... don't let fear make the choice for you. I've seen too many people spend their lives wondering 'what if' because they were too scared to find out."

"What would you do? If you were me?"

"I'd be terrified," Marcus said honestly. "But I'd also be brave. Because the alternative—living the rest of your life as someone you're not—that's not really a choice at all."

As I drove home, I felt something I hadn't experienced in weeks—clarity. Not the desperate, grasping kind of clarity that comes from wanting easy answers, but the deep, settled kind that comes from finally understanding who you are.

Back home, the house was quiet. Jazz gave me a small, knowing smile from the couch as she muted the TV. “He didn’t budge,” she whispered, nodding toward the hallway. “Kid sleeps like a rock.”

“Thanks,” I said softly. “Really.”

She just waved me off.

I checked on Cooper before she left. He was sleeping peacefully in his bed, one arm wrapped around the stuffed dinosaur he'd had since he was two.

Looking at him, I felt a fierce protectiveness rise in my chest. Whatever happened next, I would make sure he knew he was loved unconditionally.

That authenticity was safe in our family.

That courage mattered more than comfort.

The phone calls from Sarah's parents were going to continue. Mrs. Garrett was going to keep spreading her poison through the community. People were going to judge me, question my fitness as a father, maybe even try to dismantle the life I’d worked so hard to rebuild.

But I was done letting fear make my choices for me.

In my office, I sat down at my computer and opened a new document.

If I was going to do this—if I was going to come out publicly at Cooper's birthday party—I needed to be prepared for every possible consequence.

I needed to know my legal rights regarding custody, understand what professional protections I had as a business owner, research resources for LGBTQ+ parents in small communities.

This wasn't going to be a leap of faith. It was going to be a calculated act of courage.

I spent the next three hours researching, making notes, building a foundation of knowledge that would help me protect Cooper and myself, no matter what Sarah's parents threw at us.

By the time I finally went to bed, I had a plan.

Tomorrow, I would start putting that plan into action. I would call my lawyer about custody protections, reach out to LGBTQ+ advocacy groups for guidance, maybe even contact other gay parents who'd navigated similar challenges.

But first, I would talk to Ezra. Because whatever courage I was going to need for the battles ahead, I wanted to find it with him by my side.

The fear was still there, sharp and persistent. Sarah's parents were building a case against me, Mrs. Garrett was spreading poison through the community, and I was about to make myself vulnerable in ways that could destroy the life I'd built.

But underneath it all was something stronger—the knowledge that I was finally becoming the person I was meant to be, the father Cooper deserved, the man who might be worthy of building something real and honest and beautiful.

The work ahead was going to be terrifying. But it was also going to be mine.