“Mom, I’m gay.” Henry thought he would cut her off before she could begin talking about this John person. And what better way to do it than with a shocking announcement?
They had just finished breakfast—Henry’s scrambled eggs and ham and Mom’s black coffee and rice cake—and had moved out onto the patio off the back of the house. They sat on the Adirondack chairs facing the lakefront. Today the water was gunmetal gray, churning, reflecting a cloud-choked sky above.
Maxine was busy inside, emptying the dishwasher.
Rain was coming, and soon.
Henry searched for a sign on his mom’s face that would indicate shock. But her features, behind large Prada sunglasses, appeared placid. “And?” she asked.
“And? What do you mean, ‘and’? Your only son just told you he’s gay, a pole smoker, a queer, a
