Free Prospect Street by Emilie Richards

right.”
    â€œDoes this give you pleasure, Joe?”
    â€œYou had the world at your fingertips, and you threw it away. For what? Another man? A Jew and a reporter, at that! And you brought my daughter down with you. You’ll never be forgiven.”
    David faced him. “For what? For hurting your daughter or for damaging your career? Isn’t that where all this self-righteous fury’s coming from? This has been tough to explain. You were grooming me to replace you, even though I always told you I wasn’t interested. Now, suddenly, you have a gay son-in-law—”
    â€œNot for long, I don’t.”
    â€œWell then, the father of your grandchildren is a gay man. That’s not going to change with the divorce. Newt had to explain his lesbian sister. During your next campaign you’ll have to explain me. And that’s what’s killing you. You didn’t see it coming. You can’t hide that.”
    â€œOh, I can explain about you, all right. You and your kind are everywhere. Hiding behind decent women. Sneaking into positions of power. I’ll tell people even I was fooled, that they should look closer at everybody they know and root out the sinners!”
    David was appalled. Joe’s stance against homosexuality was well-known, but David had never heard this kind of hate-filled rhetoric from his father-in-law. “You’ve gone off the deep end. That could cost you an election, but maybe that’s a good thing.”
    â€œStay away from my daughter, and stay away from mygrandchildren! If they need anything, I’ll see that they’re taken care of.”
    â€œI will see my children,” David said. “Soon. There’s not a court in this nation that will prevent that from happening. And I’ll find a job and help support them. Meantime, I’d advise you to take a good look at Faith. She’s determined to do this her way, and she isn’t going to let either of us stop her. So ease up.”
    â€œMay I be struck dead on the day I take advice from you.”
    Continuing was pointless. David left the senator gazing at the door that separated him from his daughter.
    Out on the street, he opened the front door of Ham’s sedan and slid into the passenger seat. He didn’t speak.
    â€œAre you going to leave the Accord parked on the road?” Ham asked.
    David nodded.
    â€œIt didn’t go well, did it?”
    David glanced at him. Ham wore a tattered blue sports shirt and khaki shorts. He owned two ties, which he alternated when he had to, one sportscoat and an expensive tuxedo for the occasional White House dinner. His Dupont Circle apartment—which David shared—was furnished in Danish modern, contemporary art and whatever papers and books Ham dropped in piles on the floor.
    Ham had announced he was gay in junior high school, lived through his parents’ dismay and settled back into a loving relationship with them. The Steins had no qualms about David’s sex, only that he was a Christian and a conservative.
    David’s heart still sped up whenever Ham caught his eye.
    â€œIt’s never going to go well,” David said.
    â€œDid you see your children?”
    â€œI didn’t even get inside.”
    â€œYou have the right to see them. If you continue to avoid it, the reunion’s going to be even harder.” Ham started the engine and pulled out, turning around at the end of the cul-de-sac to get back to the main road.
    David wondered if the day would ever come when he couldshare his children’s lives again, a day when he could even introduce them to Ham.
    He remembered the expression on Joe Huston’s face and knew that if the senator had anything to say about it, David himself would become a stranger.
    â€œI’m going to arrange a visit.” David leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes. “But I can guarantee they won’t be ready for it.”
    â€œYou’re in