A White Coat Is My Closet (43 page)

Diane’s response was immediate. In fact, it almost came out as a burst of laughter. “Zack, for someone who’s so smart, you really are an idiot. Why would I hate you?”

I was finally able to bring my gaze up. “I don’t know. For everything. For not being truthful. For disappointing you.” My voice became almost inaudible. “For being gay.”

Without hesitation, Diane threw her arms around me. “How could you think that? I’m not any of those things. If anything, I’m sad you didn’t think you could trust me enough to tell me the truth before. We’re friends, Zack. I love you. Nothing is going to change that.” Her voice adopted a more joking tone. “You’re gay; you’re not a serial killer. Did you think my opinion of you would change? In fact, did you really think I didn’t know? I mean, come on. I might not be the best judge of men; my ex-fiancé is evidence of that, but we’ve known each other for almost three years. We practically live in one another’s back pockets. I didn’t fall off the turnip truck yesterday.”

Despite having a knot in my stomach the size of a small country, a hint of a smile crept across my face. “When
did
you fall off the turnip truck?’

Her voice became more serious. “Don’t you dare try to change the subject again. I’m not going to offer you another convenient escape.” She held my shoulders between her hands and forced me to look at her. “Tell me what’s going on with you.”

A few more tears appeared in the corner of my eyes. “Apparently, I’m trying desperately to completely fuck up my life.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I’ll soon be the laughing stock of the hospital, I’ll probably lose everyone’s respect, and the guy who I think I’m in love with is never going to speak to me again. That’s a pretty good start.”

This time, Diane did laugh. “Good Lord, Zack, you really are a drama queen. First of all, none of this is anyone else’s business; secondly, you’re not going to lose anyone’s respect. Everyone I know thinks you’re amazing, and no one who matters is going to give a rat’s ass if they find out you’re gay. And thirdly, if that guy is really worth loving, a ridiculous misunderstanding isn’t going to change anything.”

I looked at her pleadingly. “You’re not going to tell anyone?”

For the first time since Sergio dropped the roses at my feet, Diane’s expression did look hurt. “Christ, Zack. Do you really have so little regard for me or for our friendship that you think I would intentionally hurt you? I’ve suspected the truth for years. Has it ever affected the way I treated you?”

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“Come on, Zack. Don’t be intentionally obtuse. I gave you a million opportunities to tell me. I just wasn’t going to force the issue. I figured you’d tell me when you were ready.”

My voice quivered a little. “Diane, you’ve got to believe that my not telling you I was gay wasn’t because I didn’t trust you.” I tried desperately to find the words that would explain my apparent psychophrenia. I was sure I gave her the impression of having multiple contradictory personalities. “I didn’t tell you because for most of my life, it wasn’t something I accepted in myself. This wasn’t about my lack of regard for you. Up until recently, this was about my lack of regard for me.”

“Well, then, I’d say it’s high time you got your head screwed on straight. Excuse the pun.” Her voice became gentler. “Look, Zack. The world is a complicated place. It’s woven together in an intricate, confusing pattern. Sometimes it’s easy to get lost in the insignificant details. But at the end of the day, the testimony of a person’s character is their integrity and their capacity to love. Who they love really says nothing about who they are. Everyone who knows you respects you for being the person you are. Being gay doesn’t change anything about what’s fundamentally important.”

“But not everyone sees things that way. You can’t look at the world through rose-colored glasses, Diane. It’s filled with prejudice and homophobia. A lot of people are going to think less of me when they discover I’m gay.”

“And I still resolutely believe that the only possible travesty here would be in your attempting to live your life trying to meet their expectations. They’re bigots. We’re not debating whether they exist. Of course they do. The only real question is whether or not you’re going to allow them to set the bar for your life. Would you suggest that a black man bleach his skin because some racist finds his color objectionable? Of course not. You’d see the racist for who he was—a narrow-minded, self-loathing, ignorant fool. You would encourage the black guy to continue living his life with pride. Why won’t you give yourself the same consideration?”

“You’re right. Intellectually, I know you are. But sometimes there’s a disparity between what I know to be true and what I feel. When you grow up with almost every element of society indoctrinating you to believe it’s wrong to be gay, you don’t wake up one morning and miraculously feel like embracing it. For the vast majority of my life, I’ve felt like being accepted required me to hide who I am. The fear I’ve lived with for all those years doesn’t disappear just because I want it to. My denial is as much a part of me as the language I speak. It might have been something I learned, but it’s the only language I know.”

Diane clasped her hands on her hips. “So learn another language, Zack. People do it all the time. No one says it’s going to be easy, but you can do it. Shit, Zack, if you put your mind to it, you could be fluent in four languages. Maybe even eight. Sure, you might always speak some of them with an accent; I’m not saying you won’t. But you could certainly navigate through a hell of a lot of countries and feel pretty damn confident if you spoke eight languages. Isn’t that a lot better than where you are now? Right now, you’re making the choice to walk through life doing little more than mumbling. You’re allowing the narrow-minded impressions of people you don’t even know determine your value in this world. Let it go. The only person you’re responsible to is yourself. If you’re a good person and continue working to be an excellent doctor, nothing else really matters.”

I slowly raised my head, lifted my eyebrows, and looked at her a little sheepishly. Of course she was right. I really couldn’t offer a rebuttal. In fact, I was hugely relieved. Rather than being the least bit judgmental, Diane had come fiercely to my defense. “I’m not sure what to say….
Gracias
?” I offered her an apologetic grin.

She again drew me into a tight embrace. “You really are a shithead, did you know that? In little more than three months, we’re going to be done here and moving on to our respective jobs. Look how much time we wasted. We could have spent the past two years comparing notes about men.” She laughed. “Speaking of men, if a hunk like that showed up to give me a dozen roses, I would have accepted them with open arms. I wouldn’t even have had to know his name. With those biceps, that smile, and that sexy accent, my answer to anything he asked would have been yes.”

My smile immediately faded. I absentmindedly looked in the direction where I had last seen him. “His name is Sergio Quartulli, and quite honestly, he’s the most amazing man I’ve ever met.” I pulled my gaze back and looked at Diane intently. Now that I was being honest with her, I had no conceivable reason to hold anything back. “I may very well be in love with him, and now I’ve completely blown it.”

Diane reached up and gently stroked my arm. “It was a misunderstanding, Zack. The damage isn’t irreparable.”

My gaze again floated to the door where I had seen Sergio disappear. “I don’t know, Diane. I’ve seen him angry before, but I’ve never seen him this upset. He went through all this effort to do something nice for me, and what thanks does he get? A coldhearted rejection. Even from my perspective, that’s pretty damn unforgivable.”

Diane continued to run her hand over my arm. “That’s because you’re always disinclined to forgive yourself, Zack. You’re human. Humans are designed with imperfections, inconsistencies, and ridiculously obvious flaws. Screwing something up isn’t unforgivable, it’s part of being human. That’s not an excuse, it’s a fact. But being human doesn’t absolve you of responsibility. Your job now is to try to make it right. If you try, and he still doesn’t forgive you, that says something about his intolerance, not about your having made a mistake.”

I looked at Diane intently while I processed what she had said. Then I threw my arm around her shoulder and gently rubbed my fist over her scalp. “Have I told you lately that you are incredible? That ex-fiancé of yours really was an idiot. Hell, if I was straight, I would marry you.”

“Zack, if you were straight, I wouldn’t give you any choice in the matter.” We both laughed.

Though she continued to smile, her expression became more sincere. “Look, Zack. Your secret is safe with me. Though I really don’t think it will matter to anyone, I believe it’s important for you to be able to reveal who you are to people on your own terms. Just don’t shut me out anymore. We’re friends. That’s not only a precious gift, but I rely on you. I wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for you. From here on out, let’s agree that it will be a more equal give-and-take. You shouldn’t have to shoulder some of these worries alone.”

“It’s always been give-and-take, Diane. You know that. You’ve been there for me more times than I can count. In fact, I came close to telling you I was gay about a million times. My own issues prevented me from doing so, not you. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t depend on you to support me in every other aspect of my life. As far as residency goes, you’ve been my lifeline.”

“Perfect. Then let me be your lifeline now. It’s already after three o’clock. Give me your sign-outs now, and get your ass out of here. Go find Sergio and make things right. Grovel a little. He’s Italian. Italians love groveling.”

I looked at my watch. “He’ll have to be at work by four, and I won’t be able to talk to him there. I’m not sure how I’m going to fix this.”

“Get your ass out of here anyway. Use the time to think about it. You’ll figure it out.”

B
Y
ELEVEN
o’clock that night, I was leaning on the hood of Sergio’s car. It was parked in the far corner of the restaurant lot. Because the majority of the patrons had long since finished their dinners and driven out, the lot was mostly empty. The only cars still remaining belonged to the employees designated to close down the restaurant. My arms were full of two dozen yellow roses. The woman from the florist shop had told me yellow was the color of forgiveness.

My stomach lurched when I heard the back door of the restaurant bang shut. I was apprehensive Sergio might do little more than just drive over me. When I looked up, I was both relieved and disappointed to see two women who I recognized as waitresses walking out. They eyed me with a curious expression. I just shrugged and said, “Courier service. They pay extra for late-night deliveries.” They strutted past and got into their respective cars without saying anything directly to me, but I heard them whispering conspiratorially to one another. At that point, I didn’t give a rat’s ass what they thought. If it had helped to ensure Sergio would forgive me, I would have sat there naked with one of the roses between my teeth.

At a little after midnight, I heard the back door open again. When I looked up, I recognized the back of Sergio’s shoulders. He was securing a padlock to an iron bar that slid between two brackets across the frame of the door. With the task completed, he dropped his head, pushed his hands into his pockets, and started walking toward his car. He didn’t even look up until he was almost halfway across the parking lot. When he finally did look up, he froze midstride. I had a hard time reading his expression. Anger? Relief? Frustration?

The first few seconds were excruciating. Time ticked by in uncomfortable quiet. Finally, the discomfort of neither of us saying anything became insufferable. Better to endure a potential hostile reaction than to feel suffocated by silence. Unfortunately, however, despite having spent the entire afternoon trying to compose a perfect apology, now that Sergio was standing in front of me, I couldn’t think of a single word to say.

Though I had to speak loud enough for my voice to carrying across half the parking lot, it felt like it was caught in my throat. Finally, determined to articulate something more than just a pathetic sob, I blurted out the first thing that came to mind. More accurately, I blurted out the last tangible thought that had occupied my head.

“The woman at the florist said that yellow was the color of forgiveness.”

Sergio cocked his chin somewhat defiantly. “Yeah? And what did she say the color red signified?”

I dropped my head. I couldn’t look him in the eye. My voice returned to an almost inaudible whisper. “Love.”

“That’s what I thought. In fact, that’s what I intended. What I didn’t predict, however, was having to throw a dozen red roses on the floor.” He almost sneered.

When I didn’t immediately respond, Sergio became impatient. He looked down at his feet and angrily kicked the asphalt. “Look, Zack, it’s been a long day. I got your message loud and clear earlier this afternoon. Let’s stop wasting one another’s time.” He again looked directly at me. His voice softened a little, but his expression remained hard. “I must be naïve. I kind of thought love trumped forgiveness.”