We had been playing phone tag since the day I met Seth. “Baby girl, call me back so you can tell me about Seth,” one of Uncle Albert’s messages said. “You know I worry about you, so I just want to make sure everything is going all right.” I felt bad about not being around when Uncle Albert called. He was one of the last people I wanted to worry. He was the only relative I had in California. He was just four years older than me, and we had always been very close. The rest of our family had pretty much written him off because he was gay, and as far as they were concerned, that condition was totally unacceptable. When I was growing up, I had always suspected that Uncle Albert was gay. Even though he didn’t look it or act it, a lot of other people suspected the same thing, because he had no interest in dating females or in other things associated with boys, like sports, fishing, and fooling around with cars and other masculine things. Uncle Albert liked to do hair, shop, and cook.
