Page 31 of After the Rain

"I'm sure that's how it started," Margaret chimed in, her tone sweet but poisonous. "But I hope you're being careful about the influences Cooper is exposed to. Children are so impressionable at his age."

I looked at Sarah, hoping for some sign that she was uncomfortable with her parents' approach, but she was staring at her plate like it held the secrets of the universe.

"If your concern is about Cooper's influences," I said, setting down my fork, "perhaps you should focus on teaching him acceptance and kindness rather than suspicion and prejudice."

Margaret's sharp intake of breath suggested she wasn't used to being challenged in her own dining room. Richard's expression darkened, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.

"Wade, family court judges care deeply about the moral environment children are raised in," Richard said, his voice carrying the weight of a threat. "I hope you'll keep that in mind as you make choices about your social associations."

The implication was clear. They weren't just expressing concern—they were preparing for legal action.

"Are you threatening to challenge my custody of Cooper?"

"We're suggesting that there might be ways to address this situation that protect everyone's interests," Margaret said smoothly. "Cooper's stability, Sarah's reputation, your own privacy."

"My privacy?"

"Public relationships attract public scrutiny," Richard explained. "Small communities can be unforgiving when they feel their values are being challenged. It might be better for everyone if certain aspects of your personal life remained private."

I looked around the table at these people who had once welcomed me as family, who had celebrated Cooper's birth and attended his first birthday party, who were now threatening to use my sexuality as a weapon against my relationship with my son.

"So you want me to stay in the closet to protect your reputation."

"We want you to consider what's best for Cooper," Sarah said quietly, speaking for the first time since dinner began. "My parents have shown me studies about children of gay parents, statistics about social adjustment and peer relationships."

"Studies funded by anti-LGBTQ+ organizations to support predetermined conclusions."

"Wade, please," Sarah continued. "They've explained how custody decisions work, what family court judges consider when determining a child's best interests. If there's controversy surrounding Cooper's home environment, if there are questions about stability or appropriate influences..."

She trailed off, but the implication was clear. The Fletchers had been educating Sarah about the ways my sexuality could be used against me in court.

"Sarah, do you really believe that Cooper is unhappy or unsafe with me?"

She looked up from her plate for the first time, and I saw tears in her eyes. "No. But I believe that things might get harder for him if this becomes a public issue."

"Things might get harder, or your parents have made it clear that they'll make things harder?"

"Wade, that's not fair," Richard interjected. "We're concerned about our grandson's wellbeing. If your lifestyle choices create controversy that affects Cooper's social development, his relationships with peers, his sense of identity, then yes, we have a responsibility to intervene."

"My lifestyle choices? You mean being honest about who I am?"

"We mean making private matters public in ways that affect innocent children."

I pushed back from the table, feeling the walls of the dining room closing in around me.

"Cooper is the happiest, most well-adjusted kid I know.

He's thriving academically, socially, emotionally.

The only threat to his wellbeing comes from people who want to use my sexuality as a weapon against our family. "

"Wade, please sit down," Margaret said. "We're not finished discussing this."

"Yes, we are. Because I'm not going to sit here and let you convince me that loving my son authentically is somehow harmful to him."

"And we're not going to sit here and watch our grandson become collateral damage in your personal journey of self-discovery," Richard shot back.

The words hit me like a slap. They saw my coming out not as courage or authenticity, but as selfish self-indulgence that threatened Cooper's welfare.

"Sarah, I need to know where you stand on this."

She looked between me and her parents, trapped in a loyalty conflict that had been engineered by people who claimed to care about her wellbeing.

"I stand with what's best for Cooper," she said finally.

"That's not an answer."

"It's the only answer I can give right now."

I left the Fletcher house understanding that they were prepared to use my relationship with Ezra as ammunition in a custody battle they were apparently planning. Worse, they were using Sarah as their weapon, manipulating her love for Cooper to turn her against me.

Saturday morning arrived bright and clear, perfect weather for Cooper's seventh birthday party. I woke to the sound of my son bouncing on my bed, his energy infectious despite the anxiety gnawing at my gut.

"Daddy! It's party day! Can we put up the streamers now? Can we blow up the balloons? Is Mr. Mitchell really coming?"

I pulled Cooper into a hug, breathing in his little-boy scent and trying to center myself on what mattered. Today was about him, about celebrating the most important person in my world. Whatever drama the adults brought to this party, Cooper deserved to feel loved and special.

"Yes to streamers, yes to balloons, and yes, Mr. Mitchell is coming," I said, tickling his ribs until he giggled. "But first, pancakes. Birthday boys need proper fuel for party hosting."

We spent the morning transforming the backyard into a carnival of primary colors and superhero decorations. Cooper arranged everything with serious concentration, moving the bounce house three feet to the left, then back again, ensuring maximum fun potential.

"Do you think everyone will have a good time?" he asked, hanging the last streamer with careful precision.

"I think anyone who gets to celebrate with you is lucky, buddy."

Jazz arrived at ten-thirty with her truck full of extra tables and chairs, taking one look at my face and immediately diagnosing the problem.

"You look like you're preparing for battle instead of a seven-year-old's birthday party," she observed, unloading a folding table with characteristic efficiency. "What's got you wound tighter than a spring?"

I explained about the Fletcher dinner, about Sarah's warnings, about the feeling that today might become a political battlefield instead of a celebration.

Jazz's response was characteristically blunt. "Anyone who brings politics to a kid's party isn't worth having as a friend. Cooper invited the people he wants here. Everyone else can shut up or leave."

"It's not that simple?—"

"It's exactly that simple," Jazz interrupted, fixing me with a stare that could cut steel. "This is your son's birthday, your backyard, your guest list. You don't owe anyone explanations for who you invite to celebrate with your family."

Sarah arrived at eleven with an armload of presents and obvious tension radiating from every muscle. She helped arrange gift tables and hang decorations, but I could see her scanning the yard like she was assessing defensive positions.

"Wade, can I talk to you for a minute?" she asked when Cooper was distracted by testing the bounce house.

She pulled me aside to the far corner of the yard, her voice dropping to an urgent whisper. "My parents are planning something. I don't know what exactly, but they've been making phone calls all week, talking about 'protecting Cooper's interests' and 'documenting inappropriate influences.'"

My stomach dropped. "They're coming to the party?"

"They said they wouldn't, but Wade... I think they might have convinced other people to come. To watch. To document whatever they think they'll see between you and Ezra."

The ominous warning added weight to an already charged situation. I looked around the cheerful decorations and felt like I was arranging deck chairs on the Titanic.

"Sarah, I need to know—are you with me on this, or are you with them?"

She was quiet for a long moment, watching Cooper bounce with pure joy inside the inflatable castle. "I'm with Cooper. I want him to be happy and safe. But Wade, if this gets ugly, if people start taking sides... I can't protect you from my parents."

"I'm not asking you to protect me. I'm asking you to protect him."

Before she could answer, Ezra's Honda pulled into the driveway, and Cooper's shriek of excitement cut through our tense conversation.

"Mr. Mitchell! You came! Did you bring the present?Can I show you the bounce house?”

Ezra emerged from his car with a carefully wrapped gift and genuine enthusiasm that immediately transformed the energy of the gathering.

Cooper's natural affection for his teacher was obvious to anyone paying attention, making it clear that their relationship was important to the birthday boy regardless of adult politics.

"Happy birthday, Cooper!" Ezra said, allowing himself to be dragged toward the decorations with appropriate levels of amazement. "This looks incredible. Did you plan all of this yourself?"

"Daddy helped, but I picked all the colors and where everything goes. Do you like superheroes? Because this is a superhero party, and everyone gets to pick their favorite power."

As more guests arrived—mostly families from Cooper's class and soccer team—I realized I was surrounded by allies I didn't know I had.

Parents approached Ezra with warm greetings and genuine appreciation for his teaching, their casual acceptance of his presence creating a buffer against potential hostility.