The Wedding: A Family's Coming Out Story by Doug Wythe, Andrew Merling, Roslyn Merling, Sheldon Merling Read Free Book Online Page B

love all of our four
children fully and equally.
     
    ROSLYN    You may have heard an
infertility story like ours before. A woman struggles to conceive, then fails,
turns to adoption, and suddenly she’s pregnant. Maybe it happens because all
the external pressure women feel to conceive makes it even harder for some
women to do just that. I think the relief I felt after admitting my infertility
and deciding to adopt may have actually helped free me to bear children. My
experience with the shame of infertility helped me identify with the societal
pressures Andrew was surely feeling. And this gave me an advantage that Sheldon
didn’t have. When I told Sheldon that Andrew was gay, he had handled it, though
it obviously wasn’t easy for him. Now it was time for Andrew to tell Sheldon
himself.
     
    ANDREW    Even after I’d told my
mother the truth about my sexuality, for months that revelation was still,
effectively, a secret. I finally felt forced by my mother, and compelled by my
impending departure for New York, to speak with my father. With just a few
weeks remaining before I would leave for graduate school, my mother was
hounding me more than ever, “Have you told Daddy yet?”
    I had just returned from a week’s vacation in
Provincetown, with my friend Lorne. It was an appropriate setting for the first
trip I’d taken since coming out to myself. For the first time, I saw men and
women openly showing affection to members of their own sex, arm in arm, holding
hands or kissing, unashamedly, on the beach, in restaurants, on the street.
    With one foot in Provincetown, the other
half-way out the door to New York, I was as ready as I’d ever be to sit down
with my father. I announced to my mother, “I’m going to do it tonight.” We had
plans to go out for dinner, and before we left, I said to my father, “I need to
speak to you about something when we get home. I’d appreciate it if we could
talk alone.” He must have known what it was about. And even though I knew in my
heart my mother had already told him, I didn’t really believe that was going to
make it any easier for either one of us.
    We spent dinner, I think, all ignoring the
silent partner seated at the table with us - my almost unveiled secret. After
we pulled into the garage, we all walked up from the basement, and my mother
asked me to put the dog out. I called out, “Cashew!” but I didn’t hear any paws
scuttling across the floor, so I headed up one more flight to the top floor with
my parents. As we got to the landing, we all saw it.
    Green barf covered the last few steps leading up
to the top of the staircase. By the time I asked, “What happened?” the extent
of the problem was apparent. There was more of the sickly green stuff all over
the carpet. The next time I called out “Cashew!” it was more a desperate cry of
concern. My parents found our handful of a poodle, dozing in the den. When
Cashew woke, she batted her eyelashes, innocent as a babe, hopped right up, and
bounced into the kitchen, begging to go out. Meanwhile, I noticed a mess that
emanated from my bedroom, and walked in to find a small pile of bottles, baby
powder and dental floss strewn across the carpet. At the center was my open
toiletry kit. Lying next to the bag was the bottle Cashew had chewed open. It
was Immodium that had been prescribed before I left for Provincetown, a
preventative measure against traveler’s stomach. Cashew had downed the bottle’s
contents, then thrown them up all over the house.
    When I came down to tell what I’d discovered, my
father flew into a rage the likes of which I’d never seen before.
    “How could you be so irresponsible? How could
you be so stupid? Leaving your bag on the floor?! What were you thinking?” He
was just getting warmed up. After what seemed an interminable time, he hit his
stride, and really started hollering. He went on and on and on.
    Of course I felt terrible already. I was
shaking, pleading “I’m sorry,