Who Am I?

Chapter 8

She immediately grew indignant.

“You poked around in my things without my permission?”

“Yes, but I thought they were our things.”

“Go on. Get out of here. I don’t want to see you until supper time.”

“Fine,” I retorted. I rose from the table, leaving the two documents in front of her, and went to my room. Once I closed the door with a slam, I called Raphael and told him what had happened.

“Not good,” he observed. “But give her some time to cool off. As the saying goes, ‘The cat is out of the bag’, and she’ll need to deal with it. Just sit tight and call me tonight.”

I decided to search for Walter Knight on the internet. There was a whole slew of them. One of them said he had ‘three little knightmares’, but none of them seemed to live in Florida.

I put some music on and tried to read, but I couldn’t concentrate.

About 5:30, Mom knocked on the door. When I opened it, she said, “I guess we need to talk.”

I left my room and followed her to the kitchen table.

Sighing, Mom said, “Hunter, this isn’t easy for me.”

‘How do you think I feel?’ I thought, but I just nodded, giving her time to think.

“Sixteen, almost seventeen years ago, I married a man named Walter Knight.”

“My father,” I said quietly.

She nodded and went on, “I was already pregnant by him, and you were born soon after we married. We named you Parker.”

Again, I nodded.

“About a year later, Walter told me that he was gay and needed to leave us. At first, I was furious. I couldn’t understand why he didn’t know that before we married. He told me that he had been trying to be straight, because a straight life would be so much easier.”

“Yeah, well, he got that right,” I muttered.

Mom’s voice was showing her emotions, sometimes breaking as she continued. “He went on to tell me that he had met a man and that they were in love. I asked him how he could do this to us. He only said that he was truly sorry, but he needed to divorce me so we could all go on with our lives.”

By then, Mom and I were both crying, not sobbing, but with silent tears on our cheeks.

“So, eventually, the divorce went through and you and I moved up here. I wanted to forget about the past, so I called you Hunter Martin, using my maiden name, but your name was never legally changed. And I made up the story that your father had died of cancer.”

“Why didn’t you tell me all this before?” I asked.

“I guess at first you were too young. Later, it just became easier not to say anything.”

“But you lied to me.”

Sighing, she said, “Yes, I did. And now I don’t know what to do. I’m afraid I’ve messed up your life.”

“Have you told me the whole truth now?”

“Not really. One of the reasons we moved up here was that your father was granted visiting rights to you and I didn’t want a faggot around my son.”

“Don’t use that word!” I nearly yelled. “He’s not a faggot! I’m not a faggot! We’re both gay, but he couldn’t have influenced me that way! I was born gay, and so was he, and there’s nothing we can do about that! That word really pisses me off!”

For a moment she was startled by my anger, but then she said, “I guess I deserved that. What are you going to do?”

“First of all, I want my name back. I guess that’ll be complicated at school and with my friends, but I want to be who I really am. Second, I want to get in touch with my father. Do you know how to do that?”

“I have his email address,” she said. “Every once in a while, he writes to ask how you’re doing. I suppose he could track us down if he really wanted to. After all, he knows where my parents live. I guess he decided that it was more important to make the separation complete and final. He’s supposed to be paying child support, but he has no address to send it to.”

Before Mom gave me my dad’s email address, she asked, “What are you going to say to him?” I think she was a little afraid that I was going to ask to go live with him. I wasn’t. That would mean I’d leave all my friends, including Raphael, and I didn’t want to do that. I loved my mom, too, though I was very unhappy with her at that moment. Maybe I’d try to visit my dad during a vacation, but no, I didn’t want to move.

“I don’t know what I’ll say,” I replied. “I guess you’ll just have to wait to see what happens.” While I was angry with her for lying to me, at least I understood why she did it. I asked her to write down his email address, and then I went into my room to email him.

Hi, Dad,

Until an hour ago, I didn’t even know that you were alive. Mom told me you had died of cancer and that was the reason we had moved north. Now she’s told me the whole story, I think, so I’m writing to you and hoping you’ll write back.

I want to tell you that I’m gay, like you, and that I’m just beginning to explore what that means. I don’t understand why you didn’t know about yourself before you married, but maybe some time you can tell me.

Where are you living now? Are you still in Florida?

I’m kind of in shock right now, but I really want to get in touch and maybe visit you. Please write back.

Your son,

Parker Knight

I read it over carefully and hit the ‘send’ button.

In the kitchen the next afternoon, I asked Mom, “What are we going to do about school? I want to be known as Parker Knight.”

“I’ll go into the school office tomorrow before I go to work and get it changed in your records. It may be more complicated letting your friends know.”

“I can do that,” I said. “Just be sure to ask them in the office to notify my teachers.”

We ate a silent meal before I went back to my room to call Raphael.

The next day at school, I began to tell people who I really was. Mom had followed through, and by second period, all the teachers knew of the change. When they started calling me Parker, of course some kids wondered what was going on. I just answered to the name, and then at lunch, I explained everything to my tablemates.

“So, you’re really Parker Knight, not Hunter Martin?” asked Tommy.

“Yes,” I answered, and I’m still adjusting.”

“I bet you are,” said Molly. “What a shock it must have been.”

“It was,” I said, “but it did explain a couple of things, like why there were no pictures of my dad around, or why, when I told my grandparents I was gay, unspoken signals flashed between my grandmother and Mom. I guess it’s gonna take me some time to get used to the change and knowing who I really am.”

While I didn’t explain to all the kids in the school, eventually they caught on and began calling me Parker.

* * * * * * * *

I didn’t receive a reply to my email for nearly three days of anxious waiting. Then, suddenly, it was there. I wasn’t sure just what to expect. I thought maybe he’d be angry that I had contacted him, but he wasn’t.

Dear Parker,

Thank you so much for writing. I’ve been keeping distant track of you through your mother, but I hesitated to try to contact you because I thought it might upset you and I knew it would upset her.

I was very sad to leave you, but I thought it was for the best. At your age you certainly needed to be with your mother. I was granted visiting rights, but then your mother moved. She never told me where you were, but to be honest, I think I can probably guess.

Yes, I’m still in Florida, Fort Lauderdale to be exact. I have a partner now, and we’re very happy together.

I hope you aren’t too angry with me. I certainly would love to meet you and learn about the young adult you’ve become. However, I won’t go anywhere near your mother. Our parting was acrimonious, to say the least, and I don’t want to get into all that again. It’s water over the dam.

I hope you will write back, and we can continue to communicate. Perhaps you could visit during a school vacation or in the summer. I would very much like that.

Please write back when you can.
Your father,

Walter Knight.

I sighed and wondered what I should do next. I was happy to hear from him, but I didn’t really know what to say to him. Oh, I could write about school and my grades and stuff like that, but that wasn’t what I wanted to do at the moment.

After thinking some more, I decided to write about Raphael. I wouldn’t yet tell him everything that had happened, but I wanted him to know about my boyfriend.

Dear Dad,

Thanks for writing back. I want to tell you about my boyfriend, Raphael. He’s from Mexico but he’s now living with his aunt and uncle. His mother was American, and his father was Mexican.

Raphael is the first Hispanic to live in our town. His mother was his tia Betty’s sister. Because he was the first in town, people didn’t quite know how to treat him and a few were vicious, so he had some rough times until everything got sorted.

I should tell you that his parents and siblings were killed in Mexico which is why he is here. Maybe sometime I’ll go into more details.

What I most want to tell you is how wonderful and kind and loving he is. He’s been teaching me to play soccer (I’m pretty hopeless), and we’ve been playing tennis, where we’re pretty well-matched.

Both Mom and his family know that we’re gay. Mom has been supportive. Maybe she learned something from you after all.

When I get together with you, I’d love to bring Raphael, too. I could meet your partner and you could meet mine.

I haven’t asked Mom about meeting with you yet, and I have no idea what she’ll say, but I’ll ask soon so that there will be time to overcome any objections she has.

In my first email, I did ask one question you didn’t answer, which was why you didn’t know you were gay before you married Mom. Could you tell me? Of course, if you had known, I might not even exist, so I’m not unhappy about it, just curious.

Your son,

Parker

I thought about deleting that last paragraph, afraid that Dad would think it was none of my business. But it was my business. His belated realization that he was gay had a direct effect on my life.

I sent the email and waited for a response.

Meanwhile, I started talking with Raphael about his perhaps going with me when I went to meet my father. He said he’d be happy to go but he didn’t think his tia and tio could afford to send him. I was pretty sure Mom wouldn’t pay for him to go. I wasn’t even sure she’d pay for me to go. I decided I’d better begin to pave the way.

That evening over supper I asked her how she’d feel about my flying down to meet Dad.

“I suppose it’s inevitable that eventually it will happen, but I’m not sure you’re old enough to go yet.”

“I’ll be a high school sophomore in the fall. Why isn’t that old enough?”

She thought a moment and then asked, “How would you pay for the ticket?”

“I was rather hoping that you would.”

“I don’t have the money, and even if I did, I probably wouldn’t do it. If you want to go, you’ll have to find your own way to pay for the trip.”

That sounded like a ‘no’ to me, but I knew it was only the opening salvo.

Meanwhile, Raphael had talked with his tio and tia and, while they weren’t against his going, they said they couldn’t afford to send him.

Dad wrote back and apologized for not answering my question when I first asked it. He said that he grew up in a different time. The word ‘gay’ was just beginning to be used. “Since I grew up in a very traditional family,” he wrote, “it never occurred to me that my future would be anything other than marriage to a nice woman, a couple of kids, a house, a car, and a dog. Yes, I knew I was attracted to boys, but I thought that was just a phase, and that, once I was married, it would go away. Clearly, it didn’t.”

I waited about a week before writing back to him. I thanked him for answering my question and told him that both Raphael and I had talked with the adults and they all said they couldn’t afford to send us. “Maybe, if I get a summer job, I could afford it, but I doubt that I’d make enough to pay for the trip.”

Almost immediately, I got a response.

Dear Parker,

I should have told you earlier that I’ve been putting aside in a separate bank account what I would have paid for your child support had I known where you were. At the time, that was $1,000 a month. I have increased it from time to time. So, now, including interest, you have nearly $400,000 in your account. While I assumed that most of it would go for college, I see no reason why you and Raphael shouldn’t have some to fly down here. How would late June be?

Love,

Your Dad, Walter

Dad’s solution had never occurred to me. I had no idea I had that money. Elated, I immediately called Raphael and told him the news.

“I’m speechless,” said Raphael. “But Parker, it’s your money. You shouldn’t be spending it to fly me to Florida.”

“Raphael, there’s plenty there, it’s mine, and I want to do it. Dad can take care of getting the tickets. You can’t say no; I won’t let you.”

Over the next few days, Raphael and I discussed it with my mom and his aunt and uncle. At first, Mom said I couldn’t go. When I pointed out to her that Dad had visiting rights and she had deliberately moved away so that he couldn’t visit, she was rather chagrined. At that point, I realized that I hadn’t told Mom that Raphael was going too. When I told her that, she began shaking her head.

Finally, she asked, “How do I know the two of you won’t get down there and decide to stay?”

“Well, first of all, I love you and I don’t want to leave you. My home is here. Second, Raphael loves his aunt and uncle and has no desire to leave them. Third, all our friends are here and it’s where our school is. We don’t want to leave them either.”

We talked about it over the next few days, and Mom finally realized that I wasn’t going to change my mind.

Meanwhile, Tio and Tia had talked with me. They are proud people, and at first, they didn’t want to accept that I would pay for Raphael’s trip. I finally convinced them that this was all about family—his family, my family, and our future family.

At last they relented, and I wrote to Dad telling him that both Raphael and I could come to Florida. We set a date for the last Friday in June, a week after school got out, and he said he’d get the tickets.

As the school year wound down, Raphael and I were two very excited ninth graders. The time seemed to move slower and slower, but finally we arrived at the last day of school.

Three days before we were to fly, we had already finished packing summer clothes, including bathing suits of course, and suntan lotion, phone chargers, and books to read on the flight. We were ready!

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