Gay Parenting
A Drew and Ewan story
“I’m a lesbian.”
The words, in a childish scrawl on the whiteboard on the wall in April’s room, surrounded by rainbows, had stopped Shirley cold. She’d stood for several seconds just staring at them, her mind racing.
“The next day it was all gone: the words, the rainbows, all of it. I didn’t — don’t know what to do,” she said, waving a glass of wine at Drew. It was his birthday, and they were supposed to be celebrating. They had been celebrating — for a while, actually. Ewan had already gone home, pleading work tomorrow morning. What time was it anyway? The sun was setting over the lake to Shirley’s left so it had to be pretty late now.
“Have you talked to her about it?” Drew asked, scooping up a bruschetta from the platter in the middle of the table on the patio.
Shirley shook her head, helpless. “I don’t know what to say. This new friend of hers has been telling her all these things, like that we’re homophobic.” She laughed and it came out sharp and bleak. She had hated raising teenagers the first time around, but she had really hoped that she had learned something and it would be easier this time. “She knows we love you and Ewan and Topher, but I don’t know what she’s thinking anymore.”
