Finally, the weekend after the Initiation ceremony, I steeled my nerve and sat down with my father to have the talk.

My parents have always been fairly cool with me; I've always been pretty free to do as I chose as long as what few rules they actually set up for me were obeyed. When I was in high school, I never broke the curfew they'd set-not that there was ever any reason to-and I studied and made good grades. They'd been incredibly cool about me joining Beta Kappa-and had never said a word about all the time I'd spent over there during the semester. They'd always been supportive of me. They'd never missed a football or baseball game of mine throughout high school-and at some baseball games, they were the only people in the stands. The other kids envied me my parents, who laughed and joked with them and talked to them like adults. Kevin Hansen had always loved sitting down with my parents after a football game and talking about it. Dad remembered every play, every hit and every tackle. He'd been a threesport letterman in high school himself-Mom had been head cheerleader-and he was proud that I was a jock too. I remember one time my senior year when I sacked the Olpe High quarterback I could hear my dad screaming above all the other cheers, "Way to go son! That's my son!" And I'd been so happy my eyes filled with tears and I looked for his face in the bleachers and pumped my fist at him. Mom told me later that when I did that a tear ran down his face. They were the best parents I could have hoped for.

Granted, they were devout Church of Christ attendeestwice on Sundays and every Wednesday night. But after I graduated from high school, my attendance was no longer mandatory. I wasn't sure how they'd feel about me being gay though. The Church of Christ was pretty clear on that. It was kind of mercenary of me, but I figured I'd wait until I had my college degree before I had that conversation with them.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. I was afraid they would turn their backs on me, disappointed.

And that would break my heart.

"Hey, Dad," I said, sitting on the couch. He was watching the Colts and the Saints play on television. He always rooted for the Saints, since they were perennial underdogs. Dad was like that-but interestingly enough, if one of those underdogs became a winner, he'd stick with them through that first season. But if they kept winning after that, he'd lose interest and start rooting for another under dog. It was one of those weird little things about him I thought was cool.

"Hello, stranger." He gave me a smile. My dad was only thirty-nine, and his hair was still black, with just a hint of gray starting at the temples. Everyone always said that I looked just like him, even though I got my coloring from my mother. "We haven't seen much of you around here in a while. But we figured that was going to happen when you started college," he turned the sound down with a flick of the remote. "You know, son, I don't think I've told you how proud we both are of you."

"Proud? About what?"

"It wasn't easy for you to move away from your friends and all your plans and start your life over again." He smiled at me. "And you've never complained once."

"Well, it was hard," I admitted. "And I wasn't really happy about it, but you know, it worked out for the best. I'm really happy here."

"Life has a funny way of working out sometimes, doesn't it?" he said, popping some peanuts in his mouth. "We've missed having you around, though."

"I know," I said, steeling my nerve. "Between my duties at the fraternity and studying, I've been pretty busy." I felt myself start to color as I lied about studying, and thought, I really need to buckle down.

He gave me a look. "Well, son, your mother and I were talking the other night, and we know you're going to want to move into the frat house."

I bit my lip. I could hardly say to my father what had been drilled into my head all semester: Don't call it a frat.' You wouldn't call your country a `cunt', would you?

"Obviously, we would much rather you stay living here with us. You're our only child, but you're not a little boy anymore and you have your own life to live. And we can understand that. You can't live here with us forever, much as we would like you to," he went on. "And if we'd stayed in Kansas, you would have moved into one of the dorms at Kansas State, right? So you'd already be gone. We talked it over and decided that we can afford to pay your rent there at the house, according to that cost sheet you gave us when you first joined. But we are placing some conditions on that. First of all, you have to maintain a B average the entire time you are living there. If you ever drop below that, you are moving back in here-no questions, no arguments. Understood?" I nodded. "Second, for this next semester we'll help you out with spending money, but next summer you have to get a job and save for the upcoming school year. You need to start learning some financial responsibility. If you're old enough to not live under our roof, you're old enough to learn the value of hard work and a dollar. Is that understood?"

"Yes." I wanted to jump up and dance around the room. Instead, I kept a serious expression on my face. "Um, Dad, about this semester-"

"C average is all we're expecting from you, Jeff." My relief must have shown in my face because he laughed. "Transitioning from high school to college is hard, and you made an even bigger transition. We understand that, and we know the frat kept you hopping. But you're too smart to get Cs, and without the pledging distractions, we expect you to really apply yourself."

"Thanks, Dad," I replied. I was flying high. It was going so much better than I could have hoped. I took a deep breath and went on, "Um, do you think it would be possible for me to move into the house right after finals?"

"Why so soon?" He looked a little stricken. "What's the rush?"

I explained that Beta Kappa had a rule about room seniority. Since the house usually emptied out for summer and Christmas vacations, any brother willing to stay in the house during those times was entitled to have his own room when school reconvened. It was how Blair managed to get his own room, by staying through the summer session. He'd had to share as a junior active the semester before, and it had nearly driven him insane. "No offense, Jeff, you know I love you but if we share a room we'll be at each other's throats within days. These rooms are too small-at least for me to share one. After you live in for a year we'll get an apartment together. But if you move in over Christmas, you'll earn more seniority than guys who stay in the summer." This was because everyone went home over Christmas-there were no Christmas classes, like there were in the summer-and it was really convenient for me because my parents actually lived in Polk.

"And I think it will be easier for me to get good grades if I don't have a roommate. You know, that way I can have quiet time to study," I concluded. The real reason I wanted my own room was because no roommate meant no extra pair of eyes watching me and Blair in private.

If Blair couldn't share a room with me, I didn't want to live with anyone else. And how horrible would it be to have the Brotherhood stick me with someone like Ted Norris?

I couldn't even think about that.

"Well, son, that makes a lot of sense." My dad smiled at me and shook his head. "Sounds like you've got it all figured out. When did you grow up and get so smart?"

I just smiled. I impulsively gave him a big hug. "I love you, Dad."