We’re gathered at Kristen’s house, three of us sprawled on the carpet, three on the couch, novels open in our laps. We are discussing a character in the book – a mother who doesn’t know her teenage son is gay.“Well, I know one thing for sure,” I say, straightening up and splaying my paperback flat on the rug. “If my son were gay, as his mother, I’d know it, even if he didn’t tell me. I’m sure I would just know it.”
There’s a pause as my fellow book club members digest my emphatic declaration.
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