Prospect Street (37 page)

“You mean he's comfortable being gay?”

“Mostly that, yes. But he's comfortable with his flaws, too. Not that he doesn't try to change them, but he accepts himself while he works away.”

In all her ruminations on the subject of David, she had never really considered what it must be like to have some part of you that could never really be reconciled, to believe that some basic, intrinsic part of you was unholy. Even if David adjusted his
thinking, all the years of believing homosexuality was a sin would stay with him.

She opened her tea and poured it over ice. “You always tried too hard to be perfect.”

He smiled a little. “Look where it got me. Pride goeth before a fall.”

“I don't think you were proud. Just serious about doing what you thought was right.”

“I had some rethinking to do, didn't I?”

“And Ham's helped you do it.” She felt a pang, just a twinge, but noticeable.
She
hadn't been able to help David rethink his life. He had needed someone else for that.

“Ham, and admitting who I am,” he said.

“How's the job front?”

“No, it's your turn now. Who is Pavel Quinn?”

She was surprised he was interested enough to repeat the question. “He's the president of Scavenger. He helped me plan some of the renovations.”

“Alex mentioned him but never said what he did. I bet he didn't want me to feel inferior about my computer skills.”

“Alex is surprisingly sensitive these days.”

“I picked up vibrations between you and Mr. Quinn. What gives?”

She considered both the question and him. “Why do you want to know? You don't want to date him, do you?”

When he saw laughter in her eyes, he smiled a little. “I'm monogamous.”

“Unless you're in the middle of a lifestyle change.”

“Touché.”

“I slept with Pavel.” She watched his gaze shoot to hers. “You wanted to know.”

“Maybe not that much.”

“It gives me a certain amount of pleasure to tell you that even if you didn't want me, another man did, David.”

“The claws have been unsheathed, huh?”

“And sharpened.”

“Well?” he asked.

“Well, what? Was it good? Because that's a place we won't go.”

“Try well, are you glad? Are you happy? Are you fulfilled?”

“It's complicated.”

“You're monogamous, too.”

She bristled. “You don't know what I am anymore.”

“I think I do.”

She couldn't believe it had come to this. Discussing her love life with the man who was still officially her husband. A year ago, if an angel had descended to show her the future, Faith would have recommended a heavenly psychiatrist or a career writing divine soap operas.

“Back to the job front,” David said. “That's part of what I want to talk to you about.”

“Talk away. Have you had any luck?”

“I want to go into the ministry, Faith.”

For a moment she thought she hadn't heard him correctly. After Arnold Bronson's death, David had received routine inquiries every year about taking over his father's pulpit. “You're thinking about taking over your father's church? The door is still open?”

He grimaced. “That door is locked so tight my shadow couldn't get through. They're praying for my soul every Sunday. No, have you ever heard of the Metropolitan Community Church?”

She hadn't, and he explained. The church was a traditional Christian community that was radically different in only one way. Congregations consisted mostly of gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgendered Christians.

Faith realized there was an entire vocabulary she had to brush up on.

“I've been led to this,” David said. “I know it's a shock, but I've always wanted to be a pastor. I just knew, deep in my heart, that I couldn't stand up and condemn others. Now I know why I've gone through this experience, why I've had to struggle to reconcile my faith and my sexuality.”

They had been married fifteen years, and he had never told her he wanted to be a minister. Of course, if he had, there would have been so many other things to explain. “You're ready now?” she asked.

“Not quite.”

“What's stopping you?”

“You are, Faith.”

She frowned, not even sure which question to ask. But it didn't matter, because he continued, although not before he had balled his napkin in his fist.

“I need to ask your forgiveness.”

“Why? Is that on the application somewhere?” She was sorry she'd been flip the moment the words emerged, but David only shook his head.

He was staring at the table now, as if answers might be in-grained in the Formica. “No, I need forgiveness because I've lied to you. And how can I help other people achieve peace if I can't find it myself?”

She spoke carefully. “I'm coming to turns with how hard this was for you to admit to yourself. Both of us have to move on, and I know that now.” It wasn't forgiveness, but it was close.

He looked up. “I knew I was gay when I was thirteen, Faith.”

She stared speechlessly at him.

He looked away. “That's the thing I haven't been honest about, the thing I'm asking you to forgive. I've told you, I've told everyone, that this was buried so deep I just didn't see it. But, Faith, I knew. Of course I knew. Before I married you, I knew I had to tell you the truth, but I just couldn't. I knew I would lose you, and I believed you were my only chance to be straight. So I told myself it was okay, that I wasn't a homosexual if I didn't act on my fantasies. I loved you. I really did. And I thought the love and the desire to make a home with you would carry me past the rest of it, that once I was safely married, the other part of me would die away.”

“You had that debate with yourself? Fifteen years ago?”

“It's my final and worst confession.”

She should have been furious. Some part of her knew that. She should have condemned him for his lies and the wreckage they had left behind. But the compassion she felt left no room for fury.

David had used her. Yes. He had kept the truth from her when it could have saved them both, but never out of disdain or disregard. Out of shame and out of love. He had hoped she could save him from himself. In his own way, David
had
loved her.

She reached across the table and rested her hand on his. “What happens if I can't forgive you?”

“I have to ask. You only have to do what feels right, but there can't be any more lies in my life.” His eyes filled with tears. David, who never cried. “I am so sorry. I hope you know that. Not for who I am, but for keeping it from you.”

She didn't know what to say. She tried to imagine what life would have been like if she had never married him. She wouldn't have enjoyed fifteen years of David's companionship. She wouldn't have Remy or Alex. Yes, there had been lies, but there had also been laughter and warmth and moments when they had shared their hearts.

David had lied, but did that lie cancel out the rest? Or now, with the truth in front of her and his deep sorrow about it so apparent, could she simply, finally, lay this burden to rest and make room again for the good things? Since the divorce, she had been notably absent from church, but she still believed all the tenets of her faith, forgiveness being foremost among them.

“I'll try,” she said at last. Despite this most damning revelation, her heart already felt lighter. Some of the love she'd once felt was surfacing, and she realized that maybe, finally, she could face that, as well.

He cupped her hand and squeezed.

“Can you forgive yourself?” she asked.

He cleared his throat. “I'm easier on myself now, more willing to accept God's grace and love. And I think I have something to offer. I understand intimately what it's like to be gay and struggle to be a Christian, too.”

“They'll accept you into the ministry?”

“I've made inquiries. I already have the degree. I'll need to do some things before I'm accepted to pastor a church, some additional education, probably an internship and a hospital chaplaincy program. But there's another hurdle.”

He leaned forward, the open, emotional David she hadn't seen since their separation. “I'll never be rich if I do this, Faith. I'll be able to pay child support, but my income will be a fraction of what it was. And to make things more complicated, I've been offered a position as a lobbyist for a biotech firm, where I would make considerably more money.”

“You would hate that.”

“I can survive it.”

“So this is my decision?”

“I want your input before I make it.”

It was time to tell him about the architectural history business. He listened intently, nodding his approval.

“Perfect. Your eyes light up when you talk about it.”

“But
I'll
never get rich.”

“What's better for Remy and Alex? Rich parents? Or parents who are enriched by what they do every day? Parents who are giving something back?”

“You're already a preacher, David. I can't believe I didn't question you harder about your real calling when we were married. Let me think a little, okay?”

He sat back. Neither of them smiled, but neither of them averted their gaze. She thought that, for the first time in a year, they were finally really looking at each other.

He spoke at last. “We have a few minutes before we have to go back to school. What are we going to hear about Remy today?”

She heard the way his voice tightened when he said his daughter's name.

“I had her on a tight leash for a while, and it seemed to help. She made marginal improvements in her schoolwork. Then I loosened the restrictions, and she's back to failing every subject except music.”

“Faith, I know you don't want to hear this, but I still think she needs counseling.”

Faith waited to feel annoyed or even angry that David was asserting himself. But she didn't. Gratitude stole over her and crept inside the hollow places that had stayed empty since David moved out of the house. She might not have a husband, but her children had a father who loved them and wanted to share the burden of raising them. A good father. A good man.

She only had to open the door.

“Will you find someone for us?” she asked.

“Us?”

“All of us. Remy's not the problem. We need to see someone together. We should have done it right away. We all have issues we need to talk about if we're going to be a family again.”

“Remy won't go if I'm there.”

“We won't give her a choice. She needs you, and letting her decide when to reconcile isn't working.”

“You weren't there the day she attacked me.”

“No, but I will be if she tries it again.” She put her hand over his once more. Briefly. The hand of a friend. “The only way through this is together. The four of us.”

He covered her hand with his. For the first time in a year they really smiled at each other.

 

The conference with Remy's teachers went as expected, although having David along made it more bearable. Together they came up with strategies to deal with the problems of homework and studying for tests. They left with the names of several agencies that specialized in family therapy and troubled teens.

Remy spent the afternoon and evening in her room, furious that once again her free time was going to be restricted. She reminded Faith at the top of her lungs that Christmas vacation was coming and now she would have to sit home the entire time. Faith heard the corollary, that her daughter would be making everyone else's holiday miserable, as well.

Remy refused to come down for dinner, but that didn't subdue the ebullient Alex. He was riding high on his science fair success. His teacher had hinted he might get a ribbon. Alex, who until now had only won ribbons for showing up on time.

“Next year I'm going to invent something,” he said with his mouth full. “A new computer chip, or a time machine.”

“You'll probably need a new computer chip if you're going to invent a time machine.”

Absorbed in his fantasies, he finished the meal in silence. He might come in just a little short of a time machine next year, but whatever project her son hatched was going to be spectacular.

In a vain attempt to lure Remy from her room, Faith had made a complicated spaghetti sauce recipe, and the kitchen had suffered accordingly. She cleaned while Alex worked on his homework at the table. Now that problem solving was a larger part of it he had a new, budding appreciation for math. In an unguarded moment he'd admitted that Pavel was the reason. Pavel had said if Alex wanted to be an inventor, or a computer whiz, or even just a garden variety genius, he would need math skills.

By the time she finished cleaning, he was staring into space.

“All done?” she asked.

“Are you mad I asked Pavel to come to the fair?”

“Just surprised. You didn't exactly warn me.”

“I miss him. He knows how I think.” Alex stood. “I'm going to take my shower and go to bed.”

“Call when you're ready. I'll come up and say good-night.”

“You can say it now.”

She felt a pang. She had stopped tucking Alex in years ago, but they had continued the nightly ritual of a final “sleep tight” and hug in his bedroom. She had a feeling that now her young scientist might have grown beyond that part, too.

“Sleep tight, then.” She kissed his cheek.

“Thanks for, you know, coming with Dad today.”

Both restless and wrung out, she made a pot of tea after he
left, just for something to do. She had planned to work on an ad for the
Georgetowner,
a local bimonthly with a healthy circulation. Unfortunately, she didn't feel like working tonight. Even reading her newest how-to volume for small businesses lacked appeal. Her conversation with David played and replayed in her mind.