DOWN-LOW

I read the ad on Craig’s List. Like so many of them, he was in the closet, on the down-low.

Hey guys. In town working a trade show. I want to hook up with one or more guys. I don't get to play often (engaged to be married).

What does it feel like for this guy? What about his girl? Would it be different for them today than it was for my parents, back in the fifties?

Dad was a married soldier, and he had affairs with men. Mom found love letters and they were all from men. She told me this 25 years ago, the day I came out to her. After he died.

I had put off telling her my big secret. I delayed. I’d rather lie … or run. I can’t look you in the eye. I know you’ll hate what you see, and then you’ll leave.

Dad died and left us. Because I am so bad.

Mom flew to D.C. from Florida to see the gravestone. The Army had notified her that the marker had finally been installed above his body, one of thousands of GI’s buried at Arlington. We held hands as we placed the forlorn flowers on his gravestone. It looked so small and white. Death was everywhere and I could not tell her my truth. I might kill her, too.

I put it off as long as I could. By Sunday I knew she would be gone in a few hours. It was after brunch, there in my little D.C. apartment.

“Mom, there’s something I have to say.” I took a deep breath and my throat tightened. “I’m gay. I can’t hide it anymore.”

The hum of the cheap air-conditioner surrounded us. It was straining to produce enough coolness to fill the space of the small, white-walled room. At least it isn’t hot in here, I thought, glancing towards the machine that chugged away in the window. Something red caught my eye. A man in a Speedo on the roof next door shimmered in the glare of the hot sun. I wished I looked that good in a Speedo. The thought made me notice my stomach.

I looked up as Mom’s frail body squirmed in the canvas director’s chair, trying to get comfortable. Her flowered pants suit swallowed her tiny frame. Grief had stolen 20 pounds from her, and she couldn’t afford the loss. Humidity was wilting the rings of the thick silver hair that covered her head. I thought I saw a tear form and make a trail across her makeup, like a snail. Her purse lay open on the surface of the rough wooden cable spool I was using as a table. I could see a Kleenex inside. I wanted to reach over and get it for her, but I couldn’t.

I thought I saw a slight quiver in her delicate fingers. The movement pierced my heart. Each of my internal organs felt like they were vibrating at a different frequency. I thought I would vomit.

She found a way to smile, looking right at me and squinting the rest of her tears out and onto her cheeks. She was radiant when she spoke. “Of course I knew. A mother always knows.” I let out my breath. “I love you honey, I will always love you…Just like I loved your father.”

Then she told me about the letters.