Hours later, loaded with leftovers, they drove home across the bridge.

Bill said, quietly, “I like your family. Now you’ll have to meet mine.”

“Are we going to Illinois?”

“No, not those people,” Bill said. “My real family.”

Bill had worried what his friends might think of him dating an eighteen-year-old but after the dinner with the Trejos, he wanted them to meet Nick. So, one Sunday morning he invited them to brunch. Nick had gone to Mass with Mrs. Donohue who had taken to Nick immediately after he had moved in with Bill. When Bill had first told her about Nick, abashed and worried about her response, she had laughed and said, “Do you think you’re the first man who likes them young?” Once she had met him, Nick delighted her.

Waldo arrived first with a baked concoction of eggs, bread, cheese, milk and bacon he called strata. He set it down on the table Bill had covered with bagels and cream cheese, lox and pastries, all store bought since Bill did not cook. Waldo made himself a mimosa and walked around the apartment, shaking his head.

“Honey, I can’t get over what you did to this dump. It looks like a room out of a magazine.”

Bill laughed. “It is, Waldo. Where’s Eddie?”

“He has his girls this weekend and they take forever to get ready. I got tired of waiting, but they’ll be along.”

“How old are they now?”

Waldo said, fondly, “Yvette is eight and Marie is six. He’s trying to get joint custody but, you know, the ex-wife’s being a bitch about it and the lawyer says it’s gonna be hard to find a judge who’s gonna give kids to a pair of faggots.”

“He said that?” Bill replied, indignantly.

“Oh, no, hon, he was all mushy mouthed, the way lawyers are, but that’s what he meant. Anyway, I’d love to have them living with us. They’re feisty little bitches.”

“You’ll make a good mom.”

Waldo smiled and sat. “I know I will. Where’s the boyfriend?”

“At church with Mrs. D.”

“Oh, that’s nice. I like him already.”

“I hope you will. He’s young.”

“I know, hon, that’s all any of us know about him. You say it like it’s some kind of disease but it ain’t.” He sipped his cocktail. “He’ll grow out of it. Just like you did.”

Bill sipped his own drink, plain orange juice. “I was never young, Waldo.”

“No,” Waldo said. “I guess none of us were.”

“Nick is, though. He really is. His family, they don’t care he’s gay. They love him. He doesn’t have our hang ups.”

“That’s a good thing, Billy.”

“I don’t want to fuck that up for him.”

“How would you do that?”