"I'm sorry, Fred, I don't mean to get carried away like this, but it's Ronnie. My own flesh and blood. So close to me . . . Ya know? that's just it. It's too close for comfort. I wouldn't tell anybody but you, Fred. And I'm not sure I should even go as far as to tell you. Honest, that's how much it hurts, but you see ... well . . . well, there's all those sayings, like 'chip off the old block,' or 'the apples don't fall far from the tree.'-I know they're just sayings, for god's sake, but don't try to be kind, for god's sake. We know each other too well, Fred. I mean, that's why I'm telling you all this. I feel I can tell you. You won't just nod and be understanding and all that crap. After all how many years has it been? Ha, ha, no, no, don't count! I don' wanna know. We've just been friends a long, long time, and that's why I'm telling you all this. I mean, he's my own son. The faggy bastard!

"No, no, let's call a spade a spade. I came up with one and that's that. To tell you the truth, Fred, I don't particularly give a good god damn, except he's my son, ya see? That's where the trouble lies. I mean, I don't particularly give a damn. I never liked him. He lives in my house, that's all. I mean, he's just somebody that lives in my house. I don't even mind having a queer the house so much, but you see, I fathered him. That's the point. Where'd he get it from? Could he have somehow gotten it from me? There. There, I've said it. There, I finally said it after two days of thinking it. I'm glad it's off my chest. I could only tell you that, Fred. 'Cause I know you understand me better than Janet even. I bet you knew it was in my mind. I bet you knew all along it was in my mind. I bet you knew all along it was in my mind. -There. I knew you knew I was thinking it.

"Yeah. But now. What do I do? I've read so much in just two days. I didn't go to work, I couldn't sleep. This is the first drink I've had in two days. First relaxation. Maybe I'm getting used to the idea. God. A fag. A fruit. Thank god he goes to college this fall. We'll get him outa the house. Just to look at him turns my stomach. He admits everything. God. He even said . . . oh, god . . . he even said he's in love with the kid. Ha, ha, yeah, it's like a joke almost. A distorted, hideous, sick, sick, joke. (No, this'll be my last. Well, all right, but that'll be my last.)

"Yeah, ya know. Your kid grows up, you see him go through things, big things, little things, all the things people go through, childhood diseases, haircuts, the dentist, school, long pants. One day he comes home, all shining like bright metal, a gleaming object. 'What is it, son?' 'Dad, I'm in love!' Great, great. Ha, ha, ha. Great! Except mine-and he tells me, he tells me to my face, Fred-I'm in love with Harry Birnbaum.' He's in love, in love, with another boy! Isn't that a joke! No, they can't hear me. Yeah? All right, it's all right, I don't think they heard me.

"Yeah, here's Mrs. Birnbaum, she calls me to say she got off early from work on Tuesday, walks into his bedroom and there they both are, naked as jaybirds, locked in each other's arms! What a picture! And when I ask him, does he try to get out of it, blame it on the other kid? No! He says-as if it explains everything, as if it makes everything clear as day—he says, 'I love him. I'm in love with Harry Birnbaum.' I coulda killed him. I had to control myself with all my effort to keep from striking him. Ha, ha, ha. And now, I'm so unstrung, I'm so upset, do you know what actually went through my head yesterday? With all this do you know what I actually thought for a confused moment? I actually said to myself in all seriousness, 'Here are all these boys in the world, and my son has to fall in love with a Jew!' Ha, ha, ha,