Some houses looked a little nicer now. Some a little worse. But the composition of each image was alive with the vibrations of loud music, sticky summer nights, too many beers and just enough food. The kind of party that couldn’t be contained in a row home, spilling out onto a block full of neighbors happy to join in.

On the very last page was a picture jammed into the bottom corner, bent at one end. I narrowed my eyes as I reached for it, wiggling it free.

“Hey, I recognize these party animals.” I flipped it around to show my dad. “That’s a much younger Eddie, Alice, and Midge and Maria. Dean’s parents.”

His eyes crinkled at the sides. “They were always up for a block party.”

“Still are now,” I said, bringing the picture close to my face. Midge had her arm thrown around Maria’s shoulders. Their hair was dark, faces unlined, and they wore matching yellow bell-bottom pants.

“Dean and I were just talking about our support groups at the Lavender Center, how hard it was for his parents to be themselves, especially in this city at that time.”

“It was extremely hard,” Dad said. “They told me that they relied on their neighbors to keep them safe. Stand up for them if they needed it. They welcomed them at holidays if they weren’t welcome at their own family’s dinner tables.”

I placed the picture down. “I didn’t know you talked to Dean’s parents about their experiences.”

He rubbed a hand through his hair. “When you came out to me, I went to go see them.”

I don’t know why, but I still asked, “With Mom too?”

Kathleen muttered a few unkind words beneath her breath.

He shook his head, and I felt an unexpected wave of disappointment.

“At the time, we hadn’t started going to those support groups yet,” Dad continued. “I’d always liked Midge and Maria, and they were kind to me when your mom and I got divorced. They didn’t gossip about us, even though everyone else we knew did. Told me they weren’t saints but knew a bit about what it was like to live under a microscope, you know?”

Under the table, Alexis squeezed my fingers.

“One night, after your sister threw you that Pride party, I brought a six pack over and told them I wanted to know how I could be a good dad to you. Besides loving you—that’s always been easy. But they had some insight I just didn’t. About listening and not judging. Stuff like that.” His smile was bashful. “I’m sure I wasn’t perfect, but they helped me a lot.”

The pressure in my throat grew. I had to swallow three times before I could speak again. “You were the perfect dad for me.”

He beamed at that and ruffled my hair like I was a kid again.