Father by Clyde Liffey

1
In my dream, my horrid dream except it’s not a dream, he clamps his hairy arm round my
shoulder, draws me to him, his lips graze my ragged ear. I push him away though half-heartedly
since I’m not dressed for the autumn chill. Isn’t she, he whispers but I’m eavesdropping on the
other parents in the skatepark:
Isn’t it something, the way those two still flirt? a woman says.
So romantic, her companion agrees.
They’re talking about us. Clem and I are practically the only men here, the only couple
here.
And their daughter is something else, the second woman gushes as Lian performs her
ollies and flips. We’re so blessed to have them.
Lian approaches us, asks Clem for a drink. He reaches into a bag dangling from the
shoulder opposite me, fishes a bottle of water out while I tousle Lian’s hair. Mother, stop, she
says, pouts, drinks, hands me the half-drunk bottle.
Yes, stop, Clem says. If only you’d treat me like that once in a while. He’s got a point.
I’m still a marriage virgin. Lian skates off, leaves the park with one of the boys, a classmate, it’s
all innocent, it has to be, they’re only twelve, when do they start?, some other boys join them,
their mothers come over, remind us of the reception in the church auditorium this evening.
After dinner and showers, we pull into the church parking lot. Whole families are there,
we don’t stand out except we’re the only same-sex couple there, Lian’s the only Asian, more
precisely, the only Chinese, there may be a Russian or two.

2
Lian sees some friends, runs off with them, Clem is waylaid by a business or civic
association acquaintance, I head straight for the punch bowl, it’s weak punch but better than
nothing. Clem catches my eye, encourages my drinking, normally he’s opposed, he just wants me
drunk so he can seduce me I suppose, he doesn’t know alcohol makes me resolute, not pliable. I
wander off to the bathroom, the men’s of course, come back, refill my glass, Clem’s still trapped,
a group of four now, I won’t add to it, I wander off, stand by myself, drinking, I don’t have to
drive, for once I can enjoy the distaff role.
A woman joins me, she thinks I’m lonely, I’m not or I am, hard to tell. Your stomach is
so thin, Boris, like a woman’s yet your hips
I don’t hear the rest, Little Boris, she calls me, a character we both grew up knowing, I
don’t know if Clem knows, he’s three decades younger than me, maybe two younger than her,
I’ve never seen her before. She places her arm in the small of my back walks me to the punch
bowl. I’m so glad you moved here, she whispers, you’ve made Clem so happy, your daughter is
adorable. She refills my glass, we return to where she found me, she blinks, I get the feeling she
thinks she’s teaching me feminine wiles, I don’t know any, don’t want to unless she’s using them
on me.
Clem disengages from his confreres. Again a hairy paw descends on me. I cough. My
little queer must think it hoarse, he says, gives me a drink.
I can’t tell what the woman thinks of the allusion. I was just telling little Boris, she says,
but a slideshow comes on, I ignore it, I don’t know anyone in it, may recognize some by sight,
Clem and the woman talk, he holds me tighter, I drink and stiffen. The slides have something to
do with the reason for the gathering, an anniversary or memorial, hard to tell which. The slides

3
stop, the minister stands behind a lectern on a dais stage right or left of the screen, starts speaking
about the community, mentions Clem and me, eyes seek us out, I stand with two empty punch
glasses, the woman and Clem each kiss a cheek, relieve me of my cups, I redden as a camera
snaps, the audience applauds. The speech ends, space is cleared in the middle of the floor, music
starts, time for the traditional farewell dance.
The blare of brass and percussion is muted in her room. At last, she says, she’s covered
by a sheet, she’s wearing nothing or very little. I gaze at the fretwork of wrinkles round her eyes
framed by a long, short, medium bob in brown streaked with gray. She blows me a kiss through
glazed lips, turns off the low watt lamp. The door creaks open. Someone, one of her kids, Clem,
or her husband sees us. Go, I say. They go.
I slip under the sheet, notice she doesn’t depilate; this is right and good. Just before I sink
into her, she admonishes me to give myself to Clem.
The minister approaches. You dance with such an angelic expression he says.
I blink, unaccustomed to the sudden light. The woman with the silvery bob rejoins us. Of
course, we’ve had homosexual brothers in our town before but this is the first gay family we’ve
had occasion to celebrate in our Methodist Congregational what have you parish, the minister
continues. Clem beams, this is the first time I’ve seen him happy. Everyone congratulates and
blesses us and, by extension, themselves. The gathering has culminated. People are heading
toward the coatracks. Clem and I go to the children’s room.
They’re ranged about two tables, one for the older kids, another for the younger. They’re
all eating bowls of gelato. Lian has barely touched hers. The boys on either side of her have
finished theirs. She lets them reach around her for seconds. Time to go, the chaperone says.

4

I’m hungry, Lian says.
You just had gelato, Clem says.
I didn’t like it, I want ice cream, she says, looks at me. Mothers are always more
indulgent.
We’ll get ice cream, I say, my treat.
We pull out of the parking lot. Lian is excited, the most talkative she’s ever been in my
presence. I don’t register what she’s saying, only the tone, what would it be like with her, have to
wait six or nine years at least, I’m not a molester, she’s too young, someone closer to my age, the
woman at the party, for instance. I lean back in my seat, close my eyes, maybe get hard, as hard
as I can in my condition. We stop at a light, Clem looks at me, wraps a meaty arm on my
shoulders.
We don’t see anyone from the church at the ice cream parlor. Lian has a sundae, Clem a
coffee, I a water. She offers us have a taste. Clem refuses. The ice cream is good. She’s done in
ten minutes. I leave money on the table, a generous tip. Clem gets up, zips his jacket. Lian leans
over the table, kisses me full on the lips, thank you, Daddy, she says as she puts the cherry from
her sundae in my mouth. She joins Clem, I hesitate a moment, sink back in the banquette, maybe
there’s hope, I think, no, it’ll never work.