I couldn’t have said it better myself.

I might have just taken my plate and left after that, but I didn’t. It was the way my father said “football players like you.” He still couldn’t bring himself to say the word “gay.”

“I know you’re disappointed in me,” I told them. “There’s nothing I can do about that.”

They looked at each other, for a moment unsure of how to respond.

“No, Ash,” Dad said. “I’d be disappointed in you if you flunked out of school. I’d be disappointed in you if you went to a party and drove home drunk. I’d be disappointed if you went back to pretending like this thing you told us yesterday wasn’t true.”

“You mean like you wanted him to pretend?” my mother reminded him.

My dad sighed. “I needed to come to my senses.” Then he added, “I’m still coming to my senses.”

“Disappointment isn’t about the things a person is,” my mom said. “It’s about the things they do.”

I immediately thought about the fact that, even in this world, I was a bona fide drug dealer. They would definitely have been disappointed in me if they knew that. Which meant that, given the choice, they would rather me be gay than be a drug dealer. There had to be a way for me to take some twisted comfort in that, right? The problem was, in this world, I was both.

“I only have one thing to ask,” Dad said. “Just please . . .” he said, “please don’t bring Paul over.”

I began to protest, but he put up his hand. “For now. For a while. Just give us time to get used to this.”

“Will you?” I asked. “Get used to it?”

He took a moment to really weigh his response. “Yes,” he said. “Because I won’t accept the alternative.”

The alternative, as we all knew, was when parents put up an emotional wall between themselves and their gay kid, removing themselves from that kid’s life in every way that mattered. I’m glad that, when it came down to it, my parents were against building that wall.

“We’ll invite Paul over for Thanksgiving,” my mother announced.

My dad looked at her, considered it, then nodded. “Agreed. Thanksgiving.”

“Great,” said Hunter, who was, as always, listening in. “Can I bring my boyfriend, too?”

Both our parents froze in place until Hunter grinned and said, “Gotcha!” Then he high-fived me and went back upstairs.