Thursday, January 19, 2017

With Beer on the Fourth of July

I look at the bottle in my hand. I hate beer, the smell, the texture. I hate it. I am definitely a wine guy. But they don't have wine at Fourth of July barbecue do they? No sir. Not according to my father. Fourth of July means a baseball cap, shorts, sleeveless tee and armpit hair in the backyard, grilling chicken and corn sipping on beer from the cooler. "That is what people do, son. It's expected from us and we do that. We must always do what is expected of us, son. That's the easiest way to avoid conflict and live a happy life."
I look at him standing near my mother. She is holding his arm and talking very animatedly. He raises his bent head, looks at me and urges me with an imperceptible nod. He has always been able to sense my hesitancy and nudge me now and then. Of course, given that he is my best friend, we had that bond even before we had words to speak it out.
I head towards my father. He is talking to a neighbor about baseball. He follows it avidly because it is expected of him. It presents the perfect picture. He can talk politics as if he was an analyst, all this because he believed the easiest way to avoid conflict was to become homogeneous with the rest.
I bring him aside. "I have something to tell you." I hesitate. But damn it! It is Independence day. I am not like the rest and I am ok with it. I celebrate it and I am proud of it. Now, more than ever people need to own up to who they really are. If it is not who we are then we become who we are told to be.
I can see his expectant smile. From what I know of him it will be change in the next few minutes. "Dad! I want to tell you this face to face. I am gay. Happy Fourth of July!" He is dumbstruck and blinks his eyes rapidly. I want to give him a few moments. I turn and look back, he is smiling at me. So is my mother. I feel free.

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