Chapter_12_Til_Bev_Do

It feels like I’m in a throuple with Wyatt and Beverly.

The three of us are attached at the hip.

The next couple days, we browse all the quaint local shops, have dinner with Alex and his family and visit Beverly’s sleek new office, where she introduces us to her fellow Queen B’s, her best friends and chosen family. They all have larger-than-life personalities. “My sons, the famous director and actor!” Beverly beams. Neither of us have the heart to dispute that we’re not actually famous. The women all gawk and probe us with questions on surrogacy.

One night, the three of us eat at an old-school Italian restaurant where Beverly and Wyatt know everybody. When I point out the tagline on the restaurant’s menu, “You’re Family When You’re Here,” is pretty much a rip-off of Olive Garden’s “When You’re Here, You’re Family,” Wyatt is not amused. He gets overly defensive of his beloved hometown.

Later, after the three of us share a pint of strawberry ice cream at home in our pajamas while watching an ancient repeat of The Golden Girls, I feel like an actual Golden Girl.

“I think I’m gonna hit the hay,” I announce in my best Blanche Devereaux.

“In the middle of the episode?” Beverly asks, as if I’m missing an important plot point.

“I’ll have Wyatt catch me up later,” I joke.

It’s our third night in the guest room/office/gym, and I’m longing for the warmth of my own childhood home filled with lots of people. This is perfectly fine but there’s something cold and disjointed about Wyatt’s family, whereas mine feels more like superglue.

A few minutes after I settle into the air mattress, Wyatt enters. He undresses, staring into space, and I can tell more thoughts are weighing on his mind.

“Did Rose find her father?” I ask.

“You’ll have to find out in the chilling conclusion of... The Golden Girls.”

Poor choice of words on my part. The talk of Wyatt’s dad at lunch the other day disappeared faster than our bacon bits, never mentioned again.

Wyatt slips into the air mattress and our knees knock briefly. I swallow as it sends a charge through my entire body. Wyatt’s energy does that to me. Even with the two of us mired in tension, his left knee can make me long for him.

I’ll ignore my needs for now as I hear Wyatt let out a loaded sigh.

I need to bring up my job but Wyatt is so clearly preoccupied with everything else that it’s been difficult to find the right moment. Whatever’s going on with this family, they need an outside mediator to step in and unpack their history.

“Are you thinking about the stuff with your dad?” I ask, trying to connect.

“Of course. It’s hard to let it go,” he says with a release as if he’s been waiting to talk this out. “She’s not telling me something about my father.”

“When was the last time you spoke to him?” I ask.

“When I was little.”

“Maybe it’s time you investigate,” I suggest.

“How?” Wyatt wonders, genuinely flummoxed.

“Ask your mom.”

“Whenever Alex and I brought him up over the years, she’d always change the subject or tell us how awful he was. It was burned into our brains that he was basically a monster, and when I hit my twenties, I suspected there had to be more to her story. But she won’t even go there.”

“What about Alex? Doesn’t he want to know more?” I ask.

“He got enough attention from my mom so maybe he didn’t need any answers.”

We both pause as we hear padded footsteps down the hallway. Then a door quietly shuts.

Wyatt lowers his voice, not wanting his mom to hear. “He’s also way more focused on Megan and her whole family at this point.”

“Maybe you should look your dad up online,” I say.

“Trust me. I have.”

“Any other family members you can talk to?”

“There’s my one weird aunt. My dad’s sister. She lives in Albuquerque. We’ve never had any kind of relationship. I met her once the summer before college,” Wyatt says.

“Might be worth contacting her again.”

“I never did find out if she was lying or not.”

“What do you mean?”

“She came over for lunch and my mom made this huge spread. At one point, Mom excused herself to find some photo of my father, Richard. Aunt Katherine leaned in and said, ‘Your mom will never tell you but... you should know the truth about your dad.’?”

I sit up, mouth agape. The look on my face says, I need you to continue immediately.

“She wanted to tell me more but stopped herself when my mom came back,” Wyatt says.

“Why the hell didn’t you probe?!” I ask.

“Because it was all so cryptic and my mom always said my aunt made up stories. Plus, I was too busy dealing with being gay and about to go to college.”

“That is some messy soap opera shit,” I say, taking this all in.

When we’re in Wyatt’s hometown, this never really happens. Wyatt never spends this much time thinking and talking about his family the way I do when we go to my hometown.

It’s a refreshing change.

Suddenly, in my mind, Wyatt’s family situation has taken priority over our own unresolved problems. It’s a lot juicier, and hey, who doesn’t want a distraction from their own life?

I’m committed to helping him get to the bottom of this.