“Um,” I said. “Good morning?”
She nodded briskly.
When she didn’t say anything else, I asked, “Umm, would you like to come in?”
“Yes.” After she came in, I closed the door and took her coat to hang in the closet.
“Coffee?”
“Yes. That would be nice.”
I showed her into the room before I dashed into the bedroom to pull on some pants and a shirt and to shake the living hell out of my boyfriend to wake him up. “Your mother is in the goddamned living room!” I shouted in a whisper. “Get your ass out of bed and come help me!”
“Did you frisk her for pitchforks?” Kyle asked, only half-awake.
“No! Put on some clothes and get out here now!” I yelled in a low voice that wouldn’t carry outside the room.
When I returned to the living room, I saw our guest seated at the dining room table with a cup in front of her. “I helped myself. I hope you don’t mind. I assume you were waking up my son.”
“Yes. He should be out any second now. Sorry I wasn’t dressed when I opened the door. I wasn’t expecting anyone.”
Kyle came into the room with the worst case of bedhead that I had seen in a while. I reached up to smooth down the man’s hair and then went into the kitchen to make his morning tea. Without a word I handed the cup to Kyle, who sat down at the table across from his mother.
“I’m surprised to see you this early,” he said in the understatement of the year.
“I needed to talk to you. I didn’t sleep very much last night.”
“Really? Sorry to hear that. I slept like a baby.” Not judgmental. Just a factual statement.
“Good thing one of us did.”
They each sipped their own form of caffeine quietly for a moment.
“How’d you find the address?”
“Your hospital. Most places will tell mothers anything if you push hard enough.”
He nodded. “Are we okay?” he asked, cutting right to the heart of the matter.
“I don’t understand any of this! How can we be okay when everything I thought I knew is turned upside-down and stood on its head?”
“You needed to know,” he said simply.
“Well, there we agree.”
“We do? You do?” Kyle asked, surprised by her statement.
“Yes.” She paused, clearly anguishing over her words. “I’m so torn I feel like I’m gonna fall apart. Part of me believes that you’ve just told me you’re gonna burn in hell for all eternity. But another part of me heard the words you said last night.” She stopped and noticed me in the kitchen. “Stop eavesdropping in there and just get in here!” she yelled. When I walked into the room and slowly came toward the table, she asked, “What am I supposed to call you?”
I shrugged, smiled, and said, “Cute?”
And somehow the tension at the table broke for at least a moment, and we all shared a refreshing laugh.
“No, I meant, what are you to one another? How do you think of one another? Friends? Boyfriends? Help an old woman out here.”
“Boyfriends works. Soul mate works. Love of my life works,” I answered. Kyle reached across and put his hand on mine for a moment, then squeezed in acknowledgement and love. “And who’s old?”
“Me! I’m a dinosaur from another age.”
“No, Mama. You’re not. A dinosaur wouldn’t be sitting at our table at six in the morning in New York City having this conversation.”
“Damn, boy, but you always were good,” she said in admiration.
“Are we okay?”
“You already asked me that. And I said no… but we will be.” She sipped her coffee for a moment. “After dinner last night, some of the women in the group were whispering about you as the spawn of Satan. Wicked old crones! That’s why all their husbands are off getting a little on the side.”
Kyle had just taken a sip of his tea when his mother spoke the last sentence. He was so startled he swallowed wrong and started coughing.
“Others came up to me and spoke of how proud I must be to have raised such a great kid. And I had to tell them that you’d done it all on your own, and while I was proud of you, you were your own man. A pretty good one too.”
Kyle looked at his mother. “I can hardly believe what I’m hearing. Never in my wildest dreams had I ever imagined that (1) I’d come out to my mother; (2) said coming out would happen in such a public forum; (3) after said coming out, that we’d still be speaking; and (4) after said coming out, that you and I would be sitting in my dining room with my boyfriend having coffee and having this conversation.”
Kyle paused, having already revealed a lot of information to his mother. “Until recently,” he explained, “I didn’t see myself in a very good light. But then I met Joseph, and he taught me many things, most important that I’m a good man.”
“No,” I corrected, “you are an awesome man.”
Kyle looked at his mother and said, “Okay. I have a question. Actually, I have a whole bunch of questions, but I’ll start with one. Who are you? I’ve never heard you say ‘damn’, and I’ve never heard you refer to others as ‘old crones’, and I’ve never even known that you knew about men cheating on their wives. So who are you?”
“I’m a crazy old mixed-up woman.”
Kyle was quiet for a moment, clearly trying to decide what question to ask next and how exactly to phrase it. “Why were you so strict with me when I was growing up? Why no fun? Why no
