Prologue

Prologue

Looking back, I’m glad we waited a few years to have kids.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my kids. They’ve been my life ever since Gian and I divorced.

No, you see, it’s just that I’m not sure how well I would have handled the situation I found myself in one day as I sat on the couch, daydreaming, Gian reading at the other end. Our son, Shalimar, walked into the room then, a magazine in hand. Vogue, or something else French. I barely noticed him.

“I’m gay.”

I hadn’t been expecting it, or been paying attention at all, so of course, my response or one of great articulacy and insight.

“Buh-huh?”

“I’m gay, Dad. You know, a faggot a fairy, a fruitcake. Hey, why do you think there are so many terms for gay that start with F?”

“I, uh… I see. That’s… great?” I didn’t know what to say. I’d never thought to have the talk with him. He just seemed to know everything, and was just so sure of himself. That was where the Gian in him came out I guess. Heh, came out. How ironic.

Despite my reaction, Gian barely moved. She turned a page in her book, not looking up. “So, when’d you find this out?”

Shali did the same, not looking at her as he turned a page in his magazine. “Probably when I started looking at gay porn.”

Gian didn’t even flinch. “Really? Is that so?”

Shali shrugged. “Well, it was probably before that, when my last girlfriend tried to get me to grope her. It was disgusting, all the boob she had. I’m glad you’re flat-chested.”

Gian twitched. Her fingers jerked a little, and her stone face broke. Shali was just smiling away, still apparently reading his magazine. Don’t smile away, I thought, run away!

Before he could, Gian threw her book at him, tackling him while he was distracted. He squealed, falling under her. “What was that you said? You wanna try that again?” Gian laughed manically, holding him down. Our three daughters, triplets, peered in from the hallway, watching the spectacle. They giggled behind their hands, watching as Shali frantically tried to get his mother off him. I almost joined in, but then I heard the buzzing in my ear. I walked out into the kitchen and pressed in the button under my lobe.

“Hello?”

“Mr. Daquel?”

“Yes, this is him.”

“Sir, this is Bea Mordor, from the lab?”

“Oh, hey, Bea. What’s up?”

“Well, sir, he--we revived him, sir.”

“You did? That’s great! Is he conscious?”

“No, not yet, but he’s definitely alive.”

“Great. Um, I know he’s not awake, but, from what you can tell, is he, you know… sane?”

“He doesn’t seem insane.”

“All right. Can I come there and see him?”

“That’s why I called, sir.”

“Okay. Be there in five.”

Click.