Page 30 of After the Rain

FIFTEEN

DRAWING LINES

WADE

T he first crack in my carefully constructed world came Tuesday afternoon during Cooper's pickup.

Sarah stood by her car fidgeting with her keys, her usual easy smile replaced by something that looked almost like guilt.

The late October air carried the scent of dying leaves, and Cooper was practically vibrating with excitement about his upcoming birthday party.

"Daddy, can we pick up the streamers tonight?" he asked, bouncing on his toes. "And maybe look at the birthday cake pictures again?"

"Absolutely, buddy." I knelt down to hug him, breathing in that little-boy smell of playground dirt and bubble gum. "You have fun with Mommy, okay?"

As Cooper climbed into Sarah's backseat, chattering about decorations and presents, I noticed how she avoided meeting my eyes. Her hands shook slightly as she buckled his seatbelt.

"Everything okay?" I asked.

"Fine," she said quickly, but the word came out strained. "Wade, can we... can we talk later? After Cooper's asleep?"

The request sent unease crawling up my spine. Sarah and I had been co-parenting smoothly for months, our conversations easy and focused on Cooper's needs. Whatever was making her this nervous couldn't be good.

Cooper seemed to sense the tension too. Instead of his usual excited chatter about his day, he glanced between us with the quiet awareness kids have when the adults in their world are stressed.

"Is everything okay, Daddy?" he asked, his small hand finding mine through the open car window.

"Everything's fine, buddy," I said, forcing a smile that felt like plastic. "You have fun with Mommy, and I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

As I watched Sarah's car pull away, Cooper's face pressed against the back window waving at me, I couldn't shake the feeling that our carefully constructed co-parenting arrangement was about to implode.

I spent the evening pacing my house, picking up toys that didn't need organizing and checking my phone every few minutes. When Sarah finally called around nine, I was sitting in my kitchen staring at the birthday party planning checklist Cooper and I had made together.

"Wade?" Her voice was tight with stress, and I could hear her moving around, probably pacing her apartment the way she used to when we were married and she was working through a problem.

"I'm here."

"I need to ask you something, and I need you to be honest with me."

"I'm always honest with you, Sarah."

"Are you sure this relationship with Ezra is what's best for Cooper right now?" The question came out in a rush, like she'd been practicing it. "I mean, with all the attention you're getting, all the controversy... maybe it would be better to keep things quiet until the dust settles."

I set down the pen I'd been twirling between my fingers, giving her words my full attention. The birthday checklist suddenly felt insignificant compared to whatever was happening in Sarah's voice.

"Sarah, what's this really about?"

"I'm just concerned about Cooper. About how all this public scrutiny might affect him."

"Since when do you care about public scrutiny? You were the one who told me Cooper deserved to see his father living authentically."

"I know, but..." She trailed off, and I could hear her taking a shaky breath.

"Things are more complicated than I realized.

People are talking, Wade. At Cooper's soccer practice, at the grocery store, at work.

They're saying things about our family, about our divorce, about why our marriage really ended. "

The pain in her voice cut through my initial defensiveness. I'd been so focused on my own journey of coming out that I hadn't fully considered how it would affect Sarah's daily life in Cedar Falls.

"What kind of things?"

"That I failed as a wife. That I should have known you were gay.

That I must have done something to turn you off women.

" Her voice cracked slightly. "Mrs. Henderson at the bank asked me yesterday if I was planning to get tested for STDs because you might have been cheating with men during our marriage. "

The cruelty of that assumption hit me like a punch to the gut. "Sarah, I never cheated on you. Never. With anyone."

"I know that. But other people don't. They just see a gay ex-husband and assume the worst about our entire marriage. They look at me like I'm some pathetic woman who couldn't keep her husband interested in women."

"I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry that my truth is causing you pain."

"It's not your truth that's the problem," she said quietly.

"It's how other people are weaponizing it.

My parents think maybe Cooper should spend more time with me until things calm down.

Not permanently," she added quickly. "Just until the community stops paying so much attention to your personal life. "

The words hit me like ice water. "Your parents think Cooper should live with you more because I'm gay?"

"It's not that simple."

"It sounds exactly that simple."

Sarah was quiet for a long moment. When she spoke again, her voice was barely above a whisper. "Wade, they're scared. They think if you're open about your relationship with Ezra, it could affect Cooper at school, in the community. Kids can be cruel to children who are different."

"Cooper isn't different. He's just a kid with a gay dad."

"But that makes him different in Cedar Falls. You know it does."

I leaned back in my chair, staring at the birthday party checklist that suddenly felt like evidence of my naivety. I'd been planning a celebration while the foundation of my relationship with Cooper was being undermined by people who saw my love for Ezra as a threat to my son's wellbeing.

"Sarah, what are your parents really telling you?"

Another long pause. "They want to meet with you. To discuss Cooper's best interests. They think there might be ways to handle this situation that protect everyone involved."

"Handle this situation? You mean my sexuality?"

"They mean the public attention, the controversy, the potential impact on Cooper's social development."

The clinical language felt rehearsed, like Sarah was repeating talking points someone else had given her. The woman I'd been married to for fifteen years wouldn't naturally speak about our son's wellbeing in such detached terms.

"Sarah, are you okay? You don't sound like yourself."

"I'm fine. I'm just trying to think about what's best for Cooper."

But her voice was getting smaller, more distant, like she was retreating into herself. I recognized the pattern from our marriage—the way Sarah would withdraw when she felt overwhelmed or pressured by expectations she couldn't meet.

"Can we meet in person tomorrow? Before Cooper's party preparations? I think we need to have this conversation face to face."

"I... my parents want to have dinner with you first. Tomorrow night. They said they have some thoughts about how to move forward."

The formal phrasing confirmed my suspicions. This wasn't Sarah making parenting decisions—this was the Fletchers orchestrating a campaign, and Sarah was either complicit or being manipulated into participation.

"What happens if I refuse to have dinner with your parents?"

"Wade, please. They're just concerned about Cooper's future. Can't you at least hear them out?"

The pleading in her voice broke my heart. Sarah sounded scared, like someone who'd been backed into a corner and couldn't see a way out. But I couldn't tell if she was scared of her parents or scared of me, and that uncertainty made everything worse.

"Okay. I'll have dinner with your parents. But Sarah, I need you to remember that Cooper is happy. He's thriving with our current arrangement. Whatever your parents are worried about, it's not based on our son's actual experience."

"I know. I just... I need you to understand that there are considerations beyond what we can see right now. Long-term implications for Cooper's social development, his relationships with peers, his sense of identity."

Again, the clinical language that didn't sound like Sarah. Someone was feeding her these concerns, probably with statistics and case studies to back them up.

"We'll talk more tomorrow night," I said. "But Sarah, I'm not going to apologize for being gay, and I'm not going to hide my relationship with Ezra to make other people comfortable."

"I'm not asking you to apologize. I'm just asking you to consider all the options."

The next evening found me driving toward the Fletcher family estate, my hands tight on the steering wheel as I tried to prepare for whatever confrontation awaited me.

The house sat on five acres outside town, a monument to old money and conservative values that had always made me uncomfortable during my marriage to Sarah.

Richard answered the door himself, extending a firm handshake and leading me into their formal dining room. Margaret was already seated at the table, which was set with china and crystal that probably cost more than my monthly mortgage payment.

"Wade, thank you for coming," Richard said as we settled into our chairs. "Family matters are always delicate, but they're too important to avoid."

"I appreciate the invitation," I said, though the formal atmosphere made it clear this wasn't a social gathering.

Margaret served homemade pot roast while Richard steered conversation toward my adjustment to single life and appropriate male role models for Cooper. Sarah sat across from me, barely touching her food, watching nervously as her parents maneuvered toward their real agenda.

"Wade, Sarah mentioned you've developed a friendship with Cooper's teacher," Richard said, cutting his meat with deliberate care. "That seems... unusual for a straight man to seek out social relationships with homosexual men."

The barely veiled accusation made my skin crawl, but I kept my voice level. "Ezra and I became friends because we both care about Cooper's education and wellbeing."