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

I began to talk about growing up in the area. It all had the flavor of sadness and regret.


“I could have been happy here but—”


“You would have met someone better.”


“I don’t know if I could ever be happy without you.”


“You make me very happy. You know that don’t you?”


I nodded. With smiles, we returned to more mundane topics. We decided to try not to use the upper bunk on the way home. It would be tight, but we wanted to be with one another in bed. When we changed and got in, Mel draped her arms around me. The shades were down, and the lights were off, and it was dark. Feeling the car’s sway, I found myself telling her details about my pre- and post-coming-out life. She punctuated what I said with little kisses on the back of my neck until I was asleep.


Chapter 7