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By Heather Klassen
“Do you two know about the annual Father-Daughter Breakfast next weekend?”
Jenna and I both look up from our swim bags, which we’re busy stuffing with our wet goggles, caps, and fins, to see Rachel, one of the swim team captains, standing next to our bench. We both shake our heads.
“Of course not. You’re just lowly frosh,” Rachel jokes. “I’m on the committee that plans the breakfast. And you two have to come, with your dads, of course. The whole swim team will be there because the Father-Daughter Breakfast is one of the best events of the entire year. You can pick up your tickets in the office.”
With that, Rachel heads off to the locker room to hit the showers and—I’m sure—to continue promoting her event. I plop down onto the bench, wrapping my towel around my neck. Jenna just stands there, staring at me. Finally, she speaks.
“Well, Emily, what are you going to do?”
Jenna’s been my best friend since third grade, so she knows that I have two fathers who love each other and who love me. Jenna’s always been cool about my family, but I haven’t trusted anyone else at school enough to tell them. When my fathers both came to a class play or choir concert, I let everyone think that one guy was my dad and the other was my uncle, neighbor, or whatever they wanted to think. My fathers went along with it, always letting me decide what felt right for me.
“I mean, which father will you bring?” Jenna asks.
Which father? As if I could choose between the two people who together built a giant tree house for me, complete with a rope swing and a bridge.
I’m finally able to say something: “How can I choose?”
“How can you not choose?” Jenna asks. “You heard Rachel. The breakfast is going to be great. I’m sure everyone will go. I certainly wouldn’t want to be left out.”
But neither would Dad, I think, or Papa.
“Maybe I could bring both of them,” I suggest. “Just like they both come to watch my swim meets.”
“But Emily, people always assume only one of them is your dad,” Jenna points out. “And this is specifically a Father-Daughter event. That would be making the whole thing pretty obvious, wouldn’t it?”
Jenna pauses while I consider that, then plunges in again.
“You know I think your dads are both great, but you also know the way people are. If everybody finds out your parents are gay, you’ll be socially ruined at this school. Me too, probably, since I’m your best friend. We’ve finally started high school, and we made the swim team, which is a totally cool group of girls to hang out with. I don’t want us to become outcasts!”
But I really want to go to that breakfast, I think as I bury my face in my towel. If I ask one of my fathers to go with me, and not the other, who becomes an outcast then?
“We better get showered and go,” Jenna says, grabbing her swim bag. “I want to stop at the office to get tickets before first period.”
When I don’t even peek out from my towel, Jenna speaks again, this time more gently. “Emily, I’m sure you’ll make the right decision about this. And I’m sure your fathers will understand. Making it socially in high school is totally important.”
I finally let the towel drop and watch as Jenna heads to the locker room. Maybe she’s right, I think. My fathers will understand. After all, they’ve been to high school. They know how important all this social stuff is.
As I stand up and grab my swim bag, I notice the brown paper sack stuffed into one corner of my bag. I know exactly what’s in there: the special apple-cranberry muffins Papa baked last night (my favorites) and a thermos of smoothie that Dad insists on whipping up for me each morning (even though I’m perfectly capable of making my own). My parents want to make sure I have a good snack between early morning swim practice and the start of school each day. I always enjoy that snack, and especially the note I always find in the bottom of the sack: “We love you, honey. Have a great day! Love, Dad and Papa.”
My eyes blur as I think about those familiar words. Words my fathers send me off with every day. I blink away my tears and head toward the locker room. I’m too late now to take a shower, so I’ll just throw my clothes on and hurry to the main building.
As I rush down the hallway toward my classroom, a brightly colored poster on the wall catches my eye. I think it’s new because I haven’t noticed it before. I stop to look at it and realize that the bright colors form a rainbow. Then I read the words below the rainbow: “Come join The Rainbow Club, a Gay-Straight Alliance, meeting Tuesday evenings at the Community Center.”
As I stand there staring at that sign, I realize that I must not be the only student at this school with gay parents, or I doubt that poster would be on the wall. And that means that there are other kids in my situation, and maybe even kids who are gay themselves, who are willing to join together and talk about their lives honestly. And then I start to think that even though I love being part of the swim team, maybe there’s another group I should think about belonging to as well.
The door to the office is just to the left of me. A group of girls walks out, each girl holding tickets in her hand. I turn from the poster and head to the office, telling myself that it’s time. Time for me to stop hiding. Time for me to be honest about my family’s love. Time for me to make the decision that I know is right.
The woman behind the counter smiles as I force myself to approach her.
“Can I help you?” she asks.
“Yes,” I say. Then I blurt out the words before I can change my mind: “I need three tickets for the Father-Daughter Breakfast.”
“Three? Oh, I’m sorry, but your mother isn’t included this time.”
“I have two fathers,” I say out loud for the first time at school.
“Oh, your stepfather,” the woman assumes. “It’s nice of you to include him.”
“No,” I correct her. “I don’t have a mother or a stepfather. I just have two fathers. Both of them have always been my fathers.”
Understanding flashes across the woman’s face.
“Oh,” she repeats. “I see. Well, we wouldn’t want anyone to be excluded.”
I had been prepared to argue, to fight, to do whatever it took. But I didn’t have to. The woman hands me three tickets and amazingly enough, smiles at me.
I stare at the three tickets in my hand. Well, Dad and Papa, I’ve taken that first step, and it worked out okay. Really okay.
But now I have to tell Jenna, I realize. I practically run down the hall to make it to class before the bell rings. Jenna’s in biology too, so as I slide into my seat, she glances at me from two rows over. I hold up the three tickets to show her, and watch as her smile dissolves into a frown.
Making it through class is torture, anticipating the argument I’ll be having with Jenna after class. Finally the bell rings, and Jenna and I meet at the door.
“Emily!” she practically explodes. “You’re not really going to do it, are you? You’re not really going to take both of them to the breakfast?”
“I want to show you something,” I tell Jenna. “Come on.” I grab her arm and lead her out of class and down the hallway. I stop in front of the rainbow poster and point to it.
Jenna reads the poster, then turns back to me, looking puzzled.
“This means there are other kids in this school with gay parents, or who are gay themselves,” I explain. “Other kids willing to be honest about their families or themselves. So maybe being honest about it wouldn’t be so bad for me. At least now I know that I’m not totally alone.”
“Are you planning to go to a meeting?” Jenna asks me.
I hadn’t decided that yet for sure, but suddenly I know the answer. “Yes,” I decide.
Jenna’s still frowning, staring at the poster again.
“Jenna,” I say, “maybe we’re wrong—maybe having gay parents isn’t social suicide at this school. And maybe I’m starting not to care if other people care, anyway. I think I need to be honest about my family. And I only want real friends who accept me and my family totally. Real friends like you.”
Jenna finally looks back at me. “I’m not as sure as you are that this is going to turn out okay. But we’ve always been best friends, and that’s not going to end. I just need to take this more slowly than you, I think. Like, I think you should go to this Rainbow Club, but I’m not ready to join you. Maybe later. I just don’t know. I need to see what happens with the swim team and with everybody after the Father-Daughter Breakfast. Okay? Will you give me time to work through this?”
As I nod, the bell rings.
“I’m going to be late,” Jenna says, then quickly hugs me before hurrying off down the hallway.
I’m going to be late too, but I just can’t make myself go yet. I have too much to think about.
I’ve just taken a huge step, and I don’t know how it’s going to turn out—my social life and my friendship with Jenna and all of it. But so far it seems to be working out kind of okay. Maybe the next step will be a little easier.
In fact, I know it will be. Because I’ll be taking that next step by walking into the Father-Daughter Breakfast with both of my fathers.
One on each arm.
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