Beth Jenkins, raised in an Irish Catholic family outside Chicago, with her father a retired Chicago cop, would not acknowledge to her family that she was gay, fearing how they would react. She moved to New York, visiting her home occasionally. At Christmas just over three years before the story begins, and against her better judgment, she responds to the when-I-you-going-to-find-a-man question by coming out.<br><br>Any hopes of staying are shattered when her father says he will not sit at the same table with this creature. For three years she speaks to neither her parents. Then her sister calls. "Dad is dying. He's turned over a new leaf." She agrees to come, but only with her girlfriend, with whom she is living in Brooklyn.<br><br>This is the story of their journey to Beth's home and what happens when she gets there.

The Prodigal Daughter

What happened next is that I put my glass down and rose. I knew they were all staring at me and I took a step towards my mother, but no more. Her hands were still wrapped in her apron and I did not have the time to read what she was thinking.


“Mother, it is true. It’s been true. Not about the kids. I don’t know about that. But, yes, I am a lesbian and I’ve always been a lesbian.”


“But what about Jerry? You went to your prom with him.”


“I went to the prom with him because we both needed a date. So that’s all it was. Friends. I have never gone out on a date with a man.”


“Mother.” And I looked at each of the others, one looking more stunned than the next, except for my father. He only looked disgusted. “It is who I am. It was who I was when I lived here. When I went to Northwestern. It’s me today and it’ll be me tomorrow.”


“You can just leave now. I’m ashamed that you have my name.” I turned to the source of this declaration.


Chapter 2