When Everything Is Blue(47)

He’s not too interested in conversation, and I find myself taking the lead. I ask him a little bit more about Saint Ann’s, whether he has a roommate (“hell no”) and about the activities they have here. He doesn’t like most of them, including what I witnessed, which he calls “the damn ball.” He’s kind of grumpy about all the stuff they make him do, even though it sounds pretty stimulating and a hell of a lot better than sitting here alone playing solitaire. I get the impression my uncle was a hater before hating was cool, so I ask him what his favorite activity is, thinking he’ll say being by himself or chow time.

“I like walks with Manuel,” he says. His face changes then, becomes softer and sweeter. A small smile forms on his wrinkled face, subtle, like a shift in the light. It’s so tender on such a tough man that it melts me a little on the inside.

“He seems nice,” I agree.

My uncle nods, and I decide to reveal to him something about myself. It’s not like my dad is going to visit him anytime soon, and even if he does, I doubt Uncle Theo would remember.

“I’m gay, Uncle Theo.”

“Gay?” he asks, tasting the word like it’s an exotic food.

“I like other boys.”

He shrugs like it’s not the huge revelation I think it is. “That happens sometimes.” He goes back to counting out cards and seems generally unimpressed.

“My dad doesn’t know.” Hopefully he’ll get the hint that it’s not something he should share without me having to say it explicitly.

“Neither did my father,” Uncle Theo says.

I must have misheard him. Is he saying he’s… “What do you mean?”

“Liking boys.” He stares directly at me like I’m being dense. “My father never knew.”

He sighs, and it seems laced with regret and longing. And here my mind is blown. Uncle Theo just came out to me, and maybe it was rumored before among the older generation of Wootens, but if it was, I didn’t know about it, and it certainly wasn’t made known to me. I read somewhere homosexuality has a genetic component, and I wonder how many other queers have been hanging out in the Wooten family tree, closeted, and whether Uncle Theo was ever out or if it’s something he’s hidden his entire life. Did he ever have a boyfriend? Male lovers? I have so many questions, but I don’t want to overwhelm or confuse him.

“Is that why you joined the Navy?” I ask.

He nods again, his face still drawn and dejected. “My father never liked me much.”

“That sucks,” I tell him, feeling closer to Uncle Theo than I ever thought possible. I think I have it hard now, but try to imagine seventy years ago, what it must have been like for him to be gay at my age. I can’t even.

We’re quiet after that—the only noise is the rasp of the playing cards in my uncle’s hands—and I notice he’s cheating by pulling different multiples of cards when he runs out of options, but I don’t mention it. I’m not even sure it’s considered cheating when you’re only playing yourself.




I DRAW out my visit with Uncle Theo because I don’t want to go home until long after the party’s over. Uncle Theo punks out pretty early, says he needs to go take a nap, so I end up skating along the intercoastal, just enjoying the sea breeze and the view of the water, until I can’t stall any longer.

At home I sneak up to my room and close my blinds, consider playing the Sims but decide it’s just an invitation for more pain. I queue up some of my favorite skate videos on my tablet instead, thinking about what tricks I might want to showcase at Plan Z, assuming I still have the balls to compete. A while back I found this hour-long skate video that has no music or talking, just the background noises of a skate session—the rollicking percussion of wheels on concrete, the sandpapery swish of boards grinding rails, trucks clicking and popping, and all the syncopated rhythms of tricks I can identify just from the sounds they make. I must have watched this video about a hundred times, whenever I want to relax. Now I close my eyes and zone out to the gritty soundtrack, imagining myself pulling off all these gnarly tricks.

I wake up in the dusty blue of twilight. I go over to my window and peek between the blinds at the pool area. The partygoers have vacated the premises, and Tabs is nowhere to be seen. I hope she didn’t leave Chris and Paloma with cleanup.

I head downstairs and jog next door as Chris is telling Paloma that he’ll take care of the rest. I ask him where Tabs is at, and Chris says he sent her off with her friends to continue the celebration downtown. I silently curse my sister for bailing.

“We missed you today,” Chris says as I collect empty bottles and cans and dump them in the recycling bin.

“I wasn’t up for it.”

“I figured.”

“Did Tabs have fun?” I hope I didn’t totally ruin her sixteenth birthday.

“Yeah, I think she did.”

He tells me some of the highlights, including who all was there, which makes me smile. A few of the upper echelon made an appearance, likely at Chris’s request, which probably made my sister’s day. She likes being included in the inner circle. Chris and I continue collecting trash for a while until the pool area is mostly clean. Then we go inside to tackle the kitchen, wrapping up the leftover food and wiping down the counters.

“What are you doing tonight?” Chris asks me when we’re mostly finished. “We should go out and celebrate.”