I’m at Ivor’s house. That’s Matt’s brother, for those of you who don’t know. And I’m still dealing with the revelation.<\/p>\n
Have you ever had the experience of knowing someone intimately — perhaps even living with him — and not suspecting he is gay, then learning it later? It’s impossible not to keep looking back and reinterpreting your memories.<\/p>\n
My friends in middle school couldn’t resist him. I introduced him to a few and always wondered why he wasn’t interested. On the other hand, he took one of the hottest girls at Pleastant Valley High to the senior prom.<\/p>\n
The last time I saw him was at a softball game eighteen years ago, when the weather didn\u2019t cooperate, nobody really wanted to be there and everybody tried to prove they were having a good time.<\/p>\n
Ivor was working as a busboy then and, because there was no professional soccer in the United States, he was trying to get noticed by European scouts. I remember the way he juggled the softball that day with his feet, like hacky sack. When it was his turn to bat, he hit a line drive that knocked Sam Brower down on the pitcher\u2019s mound. Was he trying to show he wasn’t a sissy?<\/p>\n
When I think of Ivor from my childhood, I see a narrow back and a jaw jutting forward. I see hair combed straight up and a glob of spit on the sidewalk. I remember the finger horns behind my head, Playdo in my shoe, salt in the sugar bowl. I don\u2019t know how to make a gay man out of what I remember, or a father, or a physical therapist.<\/p>\n
So it took me a long time to recognize him on the fields of Califano Park. Matt set up this meeting after I said I was curious to see Ivor (doubly curious after reading on Matt’s blog that Ivor was gay). Califano was my childhood park, the one where my mother took me to dig in the sand and slide on the slides. Behind that lay the baseball diamond where my family became entangled with the Wrightsons over the course of so many softball games.<\/p>\n
Facing into the morning sun, I had to shade my eyes to make out the figures by the playground. I don\u2019t know how long I\u2019d have stood there on my own, trying to make one of them into teenaged Ivor, if Matt hadn\u2019t been there. He strode toward a figure in gray sweatpants and a purple T-shirt, whose face was shadowed by his baseball cap. The kids couldn\u2019t keep up with Matt\u2019s gait, so we lingered, watching the two men embrace. Then Matt turned and gestured impatiently to us.<\/p>\n
Father and Son<\/strong><\/p>\n Closer, I suddenly saw not Ivor, but his father, Leif \u2013 the triangular torso and muscled thighs; the cool black hair, dusted now at the temples; the easy strength. Closer still, I saw what was missing from Leif\u2019s face, not a feature but a demeanor. In Leif\u2019s stare and half smile you could always find purpose; Ivor\u2019s eyes never rested in one place and worries had scribbled on his forehead. But a smile strobed on when he saw me. \u201cAdrienne!\u201d<\/p>\n His hands twitched, hesitating, and I put my arms around him, feeling athletic bulk. \u201cIt\u2019s been a long time!\u201d<\/p>\n If Leif\u2019s figure was passing to a third generation, it hadn\u2019t made its appearance there yet. His son, Gabriel, half a year older than Dante, had an oblong tortoise shape. \u201cYes,\u201d said Ivor. \u201cAnd that\u2019s Megan.\u201d<\/p>\n He pointed to a girl digging in the sandbox. She was the same shape as her brother, done in softer material. Both had blond ringlets they must have gotten from their mother; Megan\u2019s floated the length of her back. I introduced Dante and Chloe, then Matt excused himself to go to work. I’m guessing he was relieved to be free of us after the havoc my kids wreaked on his apartment.<\/p>\n \u201cYou guys want to play on the climbing structure?\u201d I asked Dante and Chloe? When I was a kid, the equipment was some welder\u2019s weekend fantasy and included a dinosaur, a carousel and a fifteen-foot spiral slide. All that is gone now, replaced by a couple of mass-produced platforms in cheerful blue, red and yellow; padded and low to the ground.<\/p>\n Dante gave me a patronizing smile. \u201cNo thanks!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo thanks,\u201d Chloe echoed.<\/p>\n “Soccer?” Ivor asked. And in a moment he had all four kids running after the ball. Somehow he even got me involved for a few minutes before I collapsed, breathless. Dante spotted a kid with a pirate outfit after that and went to investigate. Gabriel followed, and Chloe got interested in Megan’s sand toys. That gave Ivor and me a moment.<\/p>\n It felt eerie sitting with a person I had known so well who had changed so much. For a moment I didn’t know where to begin.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" I’m at Ivor’s house. That’s Matt’s brother, for those of you who don’t know. And I’m still dealing with the revelation. Have you ever had the experience of knowing someone intimately — perhaps even living with him — and not suspecting he is gay, then learning it later? It’s impossible not to keep looking back […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[3],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-891","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-adrienne"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/lairdharrison.com\/fallenlake\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/891","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/lairdharrison.com\/fallenlake\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/lairdharrison.com\/fallenlake\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lairdharrison.com\/fallenlake\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lairdharrison.com\/fallenlake\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=891"}],"version-history":[{"count":11,"href":"https:\/\/lairdharrison.com\/fallenlake\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/891\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":897,"href":"https:\/\/lairdharrison.com\/fallenlake\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/891\/revisions\/897"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/lairdharrison.com\/fallenlake\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=891"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lairdharrison.com\/fallenlake\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=891"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lairdharrison.com\/fallenlake\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=891"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}