“It’s been an honor,” I said, feeling unsettled. “Next time I’m back the park will look so different.”

“When do you think that will be?” Maria asked.

“I…have no idea,” I said with a nervous laugh. “I’m sure I won’t be gone as long as last time.”

Dean let go of my hand.

I reached into my purse, needing the distraction. I handed them the picture from Aunt Linda’s photo album and watched them reel with laughter.

“Found this the other day at Lin’s place and thought you might appreciate it,” I said.

Maria was laughing against Midge’s shoulder. “Oh my God, our hair.”

I leaned forward in my chair. “My dad told me the other day about coming to see you both after I came out. He told me you gave him really good advice. About listening and not passing judgment. And loving me for who I am.”

Midge set the picture down, reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “It was years ago, but I still remember how nervous he was. He told us everything about your mom and the cheating. All the fights. He never said the exact words, but I think he felt guilty about all of it. He wanted to do this one thing right for you.”

I couldn’t speak for a second, so I twirled my spaghetti until my throat opened. “He did it right. More than right,” I said, voice thick. “Thank you for being so open and vulnerable with him. I’m sure it wasn’t easy, but coming out and having him as my dad made the difference for me. Especially since my mom—”

“Is a real piece of work?” Midge said harshly.

“Midge,” Dean whispered.

“It’s okay, really,” I said, starting to laugh into my glass of wine. “Those are nicer words than Kathleen uses. And it’s true.”

Maria looked thoughtful as she folded her hands over her plate. “Midge and I were lucky in so many ways. Her father had passed years earlier, but her mother and my mother and father were supportive when we came out and when we got together, in a way we never imagined.”

Midge leaned in. “When her parents were still alive, they threw one of the best Pride parties in Philly. Your father, he reminds me of them. But of course…” She cleared her throat. “Of course, Maria and I lost people. When we got married. When we adopted Dean and started our family. My only brother doesn’t speak to me. Two of Maria’s four sisters refuse to acknowledge that I exist in her life at all. Cousins, aunts and uncles, friends. People at work.”

My heart grew heavy. “I remember those stories the most from our support group.”

“Me too,” Maria said softly. “It’s one of the commonalities in all of our experiences.”