As Steven gazed from the bus he could see the reflection of his face as it was dragged across the once familiar landscape. He thought about the day he had mailed the letter to his parents. He had waited at the post box with the idea of retrieving it from the postman at the last minute. Somehow he found a second wind of courage as he watched the postal truck drive off into that rainy afternoon. On that day Steven found it difficult to separate his tears from the raindrops that trickled down from the tips of his hair onto his forehead. He grieved for the loss of innocence but also shed tears of joy for the painful act of liberation he had just completed.

Steven sat five days in his small apartment on campus awaiting a response. When the telephone finally rang Steven found it difficult to speak. He forced a pathetic hello through his trembling larynx and heard his father’s voice respond.

"Are you O.K. Steven? Listen, we want you to come home so we can talk. This must have been very difficult for you. Don’t worry about anything, just come home as soon as possible. I love you Steven!"

Steven agreed to go home then hung up the phone. He was not accustomed to speaking to his father on the telephone. He wondered why his mother had relinquished her position as family liaison. He felt some kind of psychic separation from her since sending the letter. He was surprised because he had imagined the stereotypical response where the father is unaccepting and the mother creates a closer bond with her Gay son.

The bus had entered the main street of Steven’s hometown. As it passed by his old high school he flashed back to the difficult memories associated with those years. He felt more alienated now than he had as a student there. He watched the current students milling about between classes. He wondered how many of them were feeling the pain and anguish he had suffered through those horrible years. Steven turned his face away from the window to focus his thoughts on the family reunion about to take place. He felt his heart beating in his throat as the bus turned into the lot beside the station. Steven could see his father leaning against the back of his pick-up truck. He had pictured both his parents waiting in his mother’s car as they had on his numerous other trips home.

Steven’s father held him in a long embrace after tossing his bag into the back of the truck. Steven was surprised to find himself uncomfortable in the arms of the man to whom he had just confessed his homosexuality. He had thought he knew his parents well enough to anticipate their reactions to his revelation. He was uncomfortable in the uncertainty real life was presenting him. He found himself longing for the anger and projection he had prepared for all of these months. It was his assumed advantage in this situation which had given him the courage to come out. Steven was not sure he was prepared for what his father was offering him. He had become accustomed to the safe distance he had created between them. He climbed into the cab of the pick-up without speaking a word.

Steven took inventory of the memories of his whole life as his father drove up and down the streets where the drama of his earlier life had been played out. He remembered the fears, the emotions associated with his lonely isolated existence here. He had come back to claim some kind of resolution so his new life far away could be free from the chains he had carried here. His father distracted him by breaking the silence.

"We are driving up to the cabin tonight. Your mother will come up tomorrow."

Steven had always hated his weekends at the cabin with his father. He always felt he was being forced to prove his manhood. He hated killing things and refused to shoot a gun even in target practice. He had always managed to escape into the woods alone, taking long contemplative walks to avoid being with his demanding father. He longed for the companionship of a father who would support his talents instead of ridiculing them. Steven would always return from the woods with wild flowers and verses he had written about nature. Steven wondered if this trip was designed as a last ditch effort to save him from his sinful lifestyle. His father reached over and placed his hand on Steven’s leg. With this Steven felt he was being abducted by a stranger for some unknown fate.

It was already dark when they arrived at the cabin. They both picked at fast-food and small talk, saving the serious conversation for the fireside. Steven wrapped himself in a blanket, positioning himself on the rug in front of the fire. His father sat in his favorite chair facing the fireplace. The voice Steven heard from the direction of his father was an unfamiliar voice filled with compassion and understanding. It was a voice that erased all of the bad memories Steven associated with this place. It was a voice that gave Steven a new vision as he gazed into the fire.

"Your letter was no surprise to me Steven. I think I have always known that you love men. I wanted to change you into someone more acceptable to the world we live in. I had convinced myself that I was doing it out of love. Now I can understand that I only wanted to drag you into the cowards way that I had chosen. If it wasn’t for the courage of people like you, the world would never change. I envy you for the times you live in. Perhaps it’s not too late for me to be a part of changing the world also.

His father began to tell a story about two young boys at the age of fifteen. Steven recognized one as his father’s friend who had been killed in Vietnam. The other boy was of course Steven’s father. The two boys had been involved in an intimate sexual relationship for more than two years until they were seventeen. His father had ended the sexual relationship when he met Steven’s mother. The two boys had remained best friends until Bill’s death.

"When I heard the news of Bill’s death I was haunted by the memories of those intimate moments we had shared as young boys. It felt I was able to deny the truth by becoming his life long friend." His father was close to tears now. "I thought it had been a phase in my life that ended when I met your mother. When I got the news of Bill’s death I could no longer hide from myself. The grief I felt was more than the grief for a good friend, it was the grief of a spouse. When you came into our lives you reminded me of Bill and I wanted to protect you from my pain. Can you ever forgive me Steven?"

Steven remained on the floor in shock as he tried to hold back the flood of tears prepared to stream down his cheeks. His father came onto the floor with him, climbing into the blanket and putting his arms around Steven from behind. Steven rolled onto his back and wiped the tears from his father’s face. He could feel the sexual tension building between them. He looked up at the rifle above the fireplace and realized that his father had always loved him. Steven placed his lips on his father’s lips and they kissed the way two close friends would kiss in a moment of emotion. Each of them backed away then, to that place where we instinctively know some boundaries are not to be crossed!

"Tomorrow I will show you my secret place in the woods," Steven said as he nestled his head into his father’s chest and fell into that deep state of sleep which always follows a good cry.

The next morning the two men set out on their adventure after breakfast. A note was left on the kitchen table in case Steven’s mother arrived before their return. Steven related his stories of the many excursions into these woods. These were the stories he had once been ashamed to share with his father. When they came close to his secret place his father became strangely quiet. Steven led him by the hand through the thick brush which surrounded the clearing. As they broke into the sunshine his father broke into tears.

"I haven’t been here in twenty-five years!" His voice quivered as he attempted to dry the tears.

"You know this place?" Steven looked puzzled.

"Yes, I came here with Bill for two summers in a row. We thought no one would ever find us here. How ironic that you would escape here to protect yourself from my misguided attempts to change you."

"I’m not sure ironic is the right word to describe this situation, Dad."

Steven explained how he came to this place when he first discovered his sexuality. He had felt that this place was sacred somehow. He too had thought that no one would ever find him here.

"I used to sit on that stone and masturbate as I fantasized about my secret lover."

Steven walked over to the stone and pushed it to one side. He used a small stick to dig a few inches until he came across a coffee can which had been buried there. Steven opened the can and removed an old black and white photo and handed it to his father. His father sat down upon the rock and began to cry once again. It was a photo of his friend Bill standing in front of his older brother’s "57" Chevy with his shirt off. It had mysteriously disappeared from the family photo album some years before. Steven’s father had missed it but was afraid to make an issue of its disappearance.