“My hole is already quivering,” he said.
Jenny grimaced. “I can’t talk about my vagina, but you can talk about your asshole quivering?”
We both glanced at her. “Uh, yeah,” Sandy said. “We’re gay.” He shot me a look that said, What is up with this chick?
I didn’t give him the satisfaction of a response because I was pretty sure he was now my mortal enemy.
“Vince is going to go through the roof when he sees this,” Jenny said. “Cyclists go through withdrawal if we can’t get a ride in.”
“Yes, I’m sure it’s just awful,” I said. “I don’t know how you guys survive.”
Either she didn’t hear the sarcasm or she’d already found a way to be able to ignore it. “I just want Vince to be happy,” she said. “We love him here, and were so happy when he moved back to Tucson. He’s been coming in here since he was fifteen years old, and it’s nice to see him home again. I just wish it was under better circumstances. It’s got to be hard on him, given his dad and all.”
“His dad?” I asked. “What does his dad have to do with anything?”
She didn’t understand my confusion. “His dad,” she said again. “You know, the mayor of Tucson?”
Oh. Fuck. “His dad is Andrew Taylor?”
“The Republican?” Sandy said, sounding a little gut-p
unched.
Jenny’s eyes widened. “You didn’t know?”
“I’ve only known him a week!” I tried to think back as to what he’d said about his parents, but I could only remember a couple of off-the-cuff remarks about his dad that made me think they didn’t have that great of a relationship. That must have been an understatement when your own father was essentially a political homophobe who publicly decried passing gay civil-rights laws, saying they were unconstitutional. I remembered hearing a few years back that he had a gay son and thought how shitty it must have been to know that your own dad didn’t believe you should have the same rights as everyone else.
She started to backpedal. “It’s not that big of a deal,” she stammered. “They don’t talk that much. Not anymore.”
“Then why’d he come back to Tucson?” I asked. “What circumstances were you talking about?”
She looked away. “It’s not my place, Paul. You should hear it from Vince. Though you only have to turn on the news to know.”
“Oh, Jesus,” Sandy whispered.
“What?” I asked, looking back at him.
He looked miserable. “It’s his mom,” he said. “It’s been in the news for a while now.”
“What has?” I racked my brain, trying to remember anything I might have heard, but nothing came to mind.
“Paul, she has cancer,” he said. “They tried to keep it quiet, but it got out. She has cancer, and she’s dying.”
Chapter 12
I’m Sorry About Your Mom. Here, Have A Bike.
PLASMA cell leukemia. Apparently it’s a rare type of cancer involving white blood cells called plasma cells. It’s extraordinarily aggressive and results from Kahler’s disease, in which the infected white blood cells accumulate in the bone marrow where they interfere with the production of normal blood cells.
Or, at least that’s what Wikipedia told me on my phone as Sandy drove us home.
“That’s what he’s probably doing today,” I said as we neared my house. “He told me that he had to go visit someone and that he’d call me later.”
Sandy just nodded.
Lori Taylor came out publicly with her fight against cancer last year, but only after it somehow leaked to the press. She had smiled in an interview with the local media, laughing off the rumors of her failing health, her husband by her side. She looked healthy, if a bit thin. She did admit that while traditional avenues like chemotherapy hadn’t given the results they’d hoped for, she was optimistic about her chances and would continue to fight as best she could. She looked so much like her son when she laughed that I had to look away from the screen on my phone to be able to hold myself together.
I remember one question catching my attention. The reporter said, “There was a bit of a public fallout with your son, who is openly gay. How is he doing with all of this?”