I folded my arms across my chest. "Cute," I said. "I have to tell you, I really hate this kind of stuff. It's always so glib."

She looked upset. "You really are well defended," she said. "There's not a lot of space there even for yourself-so how could there be any space left for Tommy." She held up a hand to cut me off. "No, I'm not going to explain that." She rubbed the bridge of her nose, then ran her hand through her already rumpled hair. "Jim, I don't know what's going on with you or where you came from, and you don't have to tell me if you don't want to; but you've got a lot of big fat red buttons sticking out all over you, just waiting to be pressed. And every time someone presses one, you go off like a skyrocket."

I wanted to tell her about Jason and the Tribe. If she'd have asked me the right question, I would have-but she didn't. And I didn't volunteer it.

Why not?

I didn't want anyone to know what I had been or what I had done.

She must have seen it on my face, because she changed her tone abruptly. "All right, let me come at it this way. You think you know quite a bit about the Chtorrans, don't you?"

I nodded.

"And it's your considered opinion that the teams in Denver don't know as much as you do, isn't it?"

"Yeah." What was she leading up to?

"That's because you have firsthand knowledge that things are very different than they believe, right?"

"Damn straight," I said.

"Good. So why aren't you willing to give your own adopted son the same benefit of a doubt that you're giving the worms?"

"Huh?"

"Don't you think you ought to examine the human race's tentacles and strange habits with the same kind of unbiased observation? You've saddled yourself with the exact same kind of arbitrary judgments that you condemn the men and women in Denver for having."

"Birdie, I was raised old-fashioned . . .

"Good. That's a great excuse. That'll keep you stuck for a long time. You won't get results, but you'll always have a wonderful reason why not."

I opened my mouth. I closed it. I felt frustrated. I wanted to punch her. I wanted to cry. How did I get into this anyway? "Dammit, Birdie! I thought the job of a parent was to help a kid grow up to be a good human being."

"Who said it wasn't?"

"Well, then what are we arguing about?"

"I'm not arguing, Jim. You're the one who's raising his voice." I sat down again. She was right.

She said, "Look, Jim, you've got this whole thing confused with programming. Do you think your job is to make a duplicate of yourself? Don't be stupid; you'll just be condemning the kid to a lifetime of failure. He'll never be able to be as good at being you as you already are. See, here's the joke: you have no voice in how that kid turns out. It's entirely his responsibility."

"I'm sorry, Birdie, I don't get that."

"Good. So, let me ask it another way. Did your parents have anything to do with how you turned out?"

"Uh, not really."

"Right. They only provided the space for you to grow. You were in charge of the growing. Pretty lonely, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, it was."

"Yeah," she agreed. "That's the essential human condition, loneliness. Remember that. That's why we do everything we do. So, look, if your parents had nothing to do with how you turned out, why do you think you have anything to do with how your kids are going to turn out?"

"I hear what you're saying, I get what you mean, but I don't. I mean, it doesn't make sense."

"No, it doesn't. So, just remember what it was like for you as a kid. Do you get it, Jim? You can't teach your kid anything; he can only learn it for himself. All you can do is provide the opportunities for him to learn. Being a parent doesn't mean you own the child; it means you're entrusted with the responsibility of teaching him responsibility. Nothing more. You're performing a service for an adult who is still in the process of getting there-and that service is the creation of continuous opportunities for selfactualization and empowerment. What he does with them is up to him. The best you can do is be an example. He'll learn from what you do, not from what you say." She smiled. "That's the annoying part. You have to take care of yourself."

"It sounds selfish."

"It is," she agreed. "Listen, the only thing you can ever give your kids is your own well-being. They're going to look to you as the source of all well-being in the universe. If they don't see it in you, they're not going to know it's possible. You know, most parents go crazy with that. They think their job is to sacrifice and sacrifice and sacrifice for their kids. Don't do that, Jim. You'll just drive them crazy, particularly when you start thinking that they owe you something for all that sacrifice. Don't expect it, because you're not going to get it. Growing up is a full-time job. They're not going to have much attention for anything else for a long time to come. Let them be the way they are, because they sure as hell can't be anything else."

"So, you're saying that it's all right if Tommy is . . . that way?"

She shrugged. "He's thirteen, maybe fourteen. Do you know how to change him?"

"No."

"Neither do I."

"So what do we do?"

She looked at me with a blank expression. "Nothing. We do nothing at all. Tommy's fine just the way he is." She went on, "See, this isn't about Tommy at all, it's about you. It's about your judgments. They're getting in the way of your willingness to express your commitment. The problem isn't with Tommy. Tommy doesn't have a problem with being gay-if he is. Maybe he isn't, we won't know until he's ready to tell us; but whatever he is, he's already handled it in a way that works for him. You're the one with the problem. And if you're not careful, you'll give it back to Tommy. Right now, you're telling him you don't love him."

"But I do!"

"I know you do. Or we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"But you're telling me there's nothing I can do!"

"That's right. You've already done enough. Now it's time to stop doing and start being."

"Huh?"

"You're carrying around a whole bunch of pictures about what's the right way to be a Daddy. They're getting in the way. You're already a Daddy. But those pictures you've got about the right way to do it-that's really your ego in disguise. You've got some stuff going on about your manhood, right?"

"Uh . . ." That was the large part of it.

"Right?" she pressed.

"Uh, yeah."

"Do you know most men have that same stuff going on? You're normal. You're just as crazy as everyone else. Now, try not to take it out on Tommy."

"I see your point," I said.

"Thanks. Listen, your commitment is real clear. You've taken on a big responsibility, and this conversation is about that responsibility. It's about the fact that you want to do the job right, don't you?"

"Yeah. "

"Good. So let me tell you this. You won't. No matter what you do, you're going to screw it up. Your kids will blame you, just like you blamed your parents, and probably still do. The only way to measure your success as a parent will be the speed with which your kids forgive you."

"That's really reassuring."

"That was the good news," she said. "I don't think I want to hear the bad."

"You don't have a choice. Listen, Tommy's all right. He'll figure things out fast enough. He'll work it out one way or the other. He's a survivor, he's already proven that. Now, he's ready to go beyond just surviving. Teach him how to contribute to the people around him and you'll have done your job. No, it's Alec who I'm really concerned about. He needs to learn how to be independent. Neither you nor Tommy will be around to take care of him forever; he'll have to be on his own a lot sooner than you think, it always works that way. He's your real problem, Jim."