How had I never seen it before? Had it been hiding in plain sight all these years? There was something about Clyde’s age, his weight, his flamboyance that seemed to obscure what suddenly appeared so obvious. In fact, it had been the video, yes, it had been seeing Clyde at my age in the video, a young dancer full of swagger, that allowed me to see my face in his now, a man slumping towards seniority as gracefully as tragedy would permit. And how fitting, how perfect that my genes should be queer from birth, before birth, inducted into a long lineage of fags dating back in an unbroken line to palaeolithic times, the caves of Lascaux, Cro-Magnon, Homo erectus, to the apes in trees plucking ticks off each other’s backs. As I stared at him, I wondered if the two of you had agreed upon it all in advance. A turkey-baster scenario once you hit thirty-five? It’s always good to have a Plan B.

He turned to me and met my gaze. Had he registered my realization? What could I even say next? How did one ask the question? Would he speak first? Or was he waiting for me to? Had he, in fact, been waiting all of these years for me to speak first? To discover this on my own so he would never have to be the one to break the news, break the confidence?

I could feel it welling up inside me, building, quaking, the question, rupturing, until it was down my shirt and on the floor in front of me.

He groaned, crossed the room towards me, and pulled my shirt up over my head. And I let him, like a child. Let my arms drift up with my sleeves, pop out, and flop down at my sides. He led me to the couch and lay me down before returning with a damp dishcloth to wipe my face. He sat down on the edge of the couch, staring out into the apartment. A moped whined its way past the open window in the street below.

“Are you my dad?” I murmured.

He turned to me with a look of bemusement, his eyes glazed with drunkenness. “What?” I wasn’t going to repeat the question. It had taken everything in me to ask it. “Did you just ask me that?” I stared at him in a manner that suggested, Yes I just asked you that so please stop pretending you didn’t fucking hear me.

He pulled his head back in mild horror. “Jordan, how couldyouevenaskmethat?” he slurred. He shook his head in disbelief. “No. God.”