Just What the Truth Is (27 page)

I was holding a little angel swaddled in a blue and pink striped blanket, so it was hard to focus on anything else, but I’m pretty sure I managed to stammer out a “Sounds good. Thanks, Noah.”

“Oh, Ben, one more thing,” Noah said.

“Uh-huh?”

“I assume you haven’t told Mom and Dad about your babies. Do you want me to call them to let them know?”

Well, wasn’t that a fine question? I hadn’t told me parents we were expecting, so hearing they were suddenly grandparents would probably throw them for a loop. But you know what? That wasn’t my problem. I would have loved the opportunity to share my good news with them. Hell, I would have loved the opportunity to share all sorts of things with them, but they’d insistently shut themselves off from most of my life.

“I hate to ask you to face the firing squad that way, Noah. But if you’re willing to do it, I’d really appreciate it.”

“No problem. You don’t need to let their bullshit get in your way. Go enjoy your kids. Oh, and Clark says to tell Micah he owes him big time.”

“Owes him for what?” I asked.

I heard Clark’s voice in the background, then a shuffle like the phone was changing hands before Clark came on the line. “I owe him for bringing my friend back. I missed you for all those years, Ben, and I’m really glad we’re back in each other’s lives again.” He cleared his throat and then continued. “Now go tell my niece and nephew that Uncle Clark and Uncle Noah are coming over later with the first of what I’m sure will be a lifetime supply of overindulgent presents.”

Noah and Clark did come to the hospital that evening. They brought us dinner, held the babies, and chatted for a little while, and then the two of them went home.

The next evening, Micah and I went home too, but it was no longer just the two of us. We had planned to take turns feeding the babies during the night, but neither of us managed to stay in bed. Thankfully the glider chairs Caleb had picked out for the nursery were comfortable, because we spent more time in them than in our own room the first night.

A
FEW
mostly sleepless nights in a row meant I was sleeping when the doorbell rang at ten in the morning. Actually, I didn’t even hear it ring, so I didn’t know the exact time. But that was the hour when the sound of my father’s voice woke me. It was so out of left field that I shot up in bed, certain it had been a dream. But then I heard my mother’s muffled voice too.

I rubbed my eyes and tried to get my bearings. What on earth were my parents doing at our house? Oh, God, Micah was stuck alone with them.

I jumped out of bed and yanked on a T-shirt before rushing out of the bedroom and into the living room. The sight that greeted me brought me to a halt.

My mother and father were sitting on my couch, holding my children and talking with my partner. And all of them looked happy.

“Mom? Dad?” my voice cracked.

Micah got up and reached his hand out to me. I walked to his side and stood close, needing his strength and wanting him to know that he had mine. He draped his arm around my shoulders, and his hand found its usual spot on the back of my head, fingers curling into my hair. I saw both of my parents’ eyes follow the movement and blink in surprise. But they didn’t say anything about it or storm out.

“We’re sorry to wake you, son. We remember how valuable sleep can be during these first few months,” my father said.

My mother looked up at me and wiped tears away with the hand that wasn’t supporting Lilah. “Your children are just beautiful, Ben. I think Lilah favors you and Raphael favors your, umm….” She looked at Micah questioningly.

“Partner is fine, Mrs. Forman.”

She nodded. “Thank you. And please, call me Gloria.”

Micah nodded. Then he looked at me carefully, as if evaluating my emotional condition. I was still upright, which I figured should go in the win column.

“Are you thirsty, honey? Why don’t you sit and catch up with your parents while I get us something to drink.” I nodded dumbly, still trying to wrap my brain around what was happening. Micah looked at my parents. “What can I get for you to drink?”

“Water’s fine for me and Byron, dear.”

Micah was out of the room and back with four bottles of water before I managed to move from my spot. He handed a water bottle to each of my parents and then came over to me, leading us to the other sofa and staying close as we sat down. I leaned into him, needing to feel his solid strength. I was finally able to relax when he put his arm around me again.

“So, um, Micah,” my father said, darting his eyes back and forth between us. “What do you do for a living?”

Micah was apparently unbothered by my father’s reaction to our affection, because his voice was steady as always when he answered. “I’m a lawyer. Commercial litigation. Ben and I actually work together. That’s how we met.”

And just like that, my parents and Micah started talking about his practice, about where he grew up, about his family. Once I got over the shock of their presence in my house, I joined in too. And suddenly, we were all talking. Really talking. Not fighting or exchanging passive-aggressive barbs. Talking.

The only possible explanation I could come up with for my parents’ sudden change in attitude was the two beautiful babies they were holding. I had always known that having children would mean expanding my family, but I had no idea it would mean healing my family too. Yet somehow two little people who didn’t know how to talk had managed to accomplish in one moment what I had failed to do in going on two years. They’d given me my parents back.

Oh, I realized it would take a while for us all to feel totally comfortable together. But it seemed as if my mom and dad were finally willing to try, which was good enough for me. After all, I had everything I had ever wanted.

I’
VE
heard so many gay friends say that we were born this way, that we had no choice in the matter. Well, that’s true. But now? Well, now being gay means sharing
my life and raising my children with a man I love. And that’s a choice I would happily make over and over again.

About the Author

C
ARDENO
C.
is a hopeless romantic who wants to add a little happiness and a few “awwws” into a reader’s day. Writing is a nice break from real life as a corporate type and volunteer work with gay rights organizations. Cardeno often feels that characters write their own stories and just hopes to find enough time to get those stories on the page. Cardeno loves to hear from readers, so please drop a line to share your thoughts on a story.

Visit him at
http://www.cardenoc.com
and at Facebook as Cardeno C.

The Home series by
C
ARDENO
C.

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