William Walker pushed his chair back, stood, and stormed away from the table. It was the first night he had made it home in time for dinner in over a week, but he feared the things he would say if he didn't excuse himself. The saintly patriarch, who revealed himself as being less and less saintly as the days passed, quickly ascended the stairs, two at a time, and hid away in the bedroom he shared, as he did many things, with a woman who was certain not to share this particular sentiment with him.

Downstairs, the dining room was quieter than it had ever been. Sarah and Kitty, who flanked Kevin on either side, both held a hand of his. They all looked to their matriarch, who now sat opposite an empty chair, for guidance. She flashed her son a loving, sympathetic smile, then stood. On her way out of the room, she stopped and kissed the top of his head, then continued. She knew exactly where to find the man to blame for the unsettling silence. Up the stairs, two at a time, and into their bedroom. She knew his routine well.

He was sitting on the bed when she entered the room that was theirs. He looked up upon hearing her footsteps, and knew precisely what awaited him when she closed the door behind her without a word. She leaned back against the now closed door and shook her head at him sadly.

"How could you do something like that? Say those things…" Her tone was soft, but had the potential to grow gradually, as he well knew. "Views aside, William, he is your son."

"Don't you get it?" He responded. "That's exactly it. He is my son!"

She frowned. "Oh, what? No son of yours is allowed to be gay? Is that it?"

"Clearly I don't have much say in the matter."

"No." She shook her head, walking closer toward him. "You don't. I don't. Not even he does."

"You really believe that?" William asked incredulously.

"You think Kevin chose to be gay? You think he woke up one morning and said, 'hey, what can I do to complicate my life a little more?'"

He stood then, to illustrate his fervor. "I don't know! Okay? I don't know."

"For a guy who doesn't know, you sounded pretty damn positive downstairs when you assured your child that there would be a place waiting for him in hell," Nora said maliciously.

"I never said that!"

"You may as well have! And don't try to tell me there wasn't a part of you thinking it. Or at least, wondering. I know you. I know your parents. And I know what they raised you to believe."

His shook his head, loath to attribute his feelings to the doing of his parents.

"My parents have nothing to do with this."

"Oh, no." She rolled her eyes. "That's bullshit and you know it. Don't play games with me, we've been married far too long for that. Your father had about as much influence on you as you do on these kids, William. If you want to leave them with your…intolerant, homophobic…"

"Homophobic!" He exclaimed, as if the word alone, and not its meaning, shocked him.

"Yes, homophobic! That's what this is, isn't it?"

"No! Yes. I don't know. I could care less what other men do with their love lives, I care about what my son does with his. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry I can't be as undeniably thrilled as you are, I'm sorry I can't make him my pet project and brag to everyone in the neighborhood, I'm sorry I won't be joining PFLAG or…putting a rainbow bumper sticker on my car. I'm not you. I don't have your capacity to…love so unconditionally. I wish I did, I've never admired a quality so much as I do that one of yours. But I'm limited, Nora. I'm limited."

"Don't do this to him, William. Don't shut down."

"It's not that easy," he replied, softly, sitting back down on the bed.

And for the first time, against her own will, she felt sorry for him. Considering her movements, she slowly walked over and sat down beside him.

"Look at me," she pleaded, and so he did. "I know you don't want to feel this way, and you don't have to. Talk to him, listen to him. Just be there. You don't need to…understand it, he doesn't need your coveted seal of approval, he just needs you to be there. And I can only do so much alone." Her choice of words, specifically the word 'alone,' meant as much to him as it did to her, for he knew just how much she'd had to do alone in recent years. "Please. If you won't do it for him, do it for the five children who look up to you and go out of their way to please you. Do it for the wife who has stood by you for twenty-three years, who goes to bed with you beside her every night but wakes up alone every morning. Surely you owe them something."

He nodded, understanding fully her plea, but recognizing that his own shortcomings likely would prevent him from doing what she asked of him.

"I can't keep myself from feeling this," William said quietly.

"I know," Nora replied. "But you can pretend. And for now, that'll have to be enough." She took his hand and stood, dragging him up with her. "You're going to go down there and you're going to talk to him. Maybe you'll disagree, maybe you'll fight, but you will not allow him to spend his life wondering what you're not saying to him. And if you don't…well, you remember what it's like on the couch." She shot him a challenging glare and placed one hand on her hip. "Your choice."

He smiled, despite himself. She always had a way of getting him to do exactly what she wanted. And in twenty-three years, that particular threat had never failed her.

"Okay."

He followed her out of the room and together they descended the stairs, two at a time, both with the same goal, but only one with the ability to achieve it.

THE END.