Reinvented

Santo swallowed a mouthful of his salad. Took a sip of water. “My ex and I, his name’s Dave, we both had an interest in raising a kid. This was way before marriage equality, obviously. He kind of wanted to stick it to his parents, who were not accepting. Like, see? We can have families too. Anyway, I’m from one of those Filipino families where everybody loves kids, genuinely loves them. A whole village, lots of help, whether you want it or not. When Dave and I got together, this was in 1996, I’d been out to my family for a few years and they were starting to get used to the idea. And we stayed together, right? Which I think surprised everybody, including us.” I laughed. Santo smiled and went on. “So it was 2001, and a cousin of mine got pregnant. She wasn’t married. Didn’t want to marry the guy, for reasons our family accepted, but didn’t want to be a single mother. Sorry, this is a long story.”

“I’m fascinated,” I said sincerely. “Please, tell me the rest.”

“Okay. Well, Dave and I looked at each other and said, could we volunteer? Because we had this interest, but none of the agencies were gonna approve a gay couple to adopt. We made the suggestion, which led to a big family conference. We said, look, we’ve got good jobs. We’re registered domestic partners. As soon as it’s legal, we’ll get married. Why shouldn’t we take care of this tadpole? We could give a little froggie a good life.”

“And the family said yes?”

“After a minute to consider the not-so-great alternatives. Before long, it was like here come the boys and their girl. Dalisay sees her mother a few times a year, at family parties in East LA. Somebody roasts a pig, a hundred people are in and out of the house, we watch sports all afternoon and sing karaoke all night. She gets that experience, a taste of how I grew up. And now, since the divorce, it gives her another safe space to vent about Dave taking off on us. Because everybody’s like, that asshole.”

I laughed again. “So, a private adoption.”

“Yeah. Plenty of paperwork, no real hassle.” He chased the last of his salad onto his fork and chomped it down. Another sip of water, eyeing me. “You’ve had a ton of awful paperwork to do this year, I guess.”

“Yeah.” It came out like a sigh. “My sister and her husband, did Kenny tell you?” He nodded, looking vaguely guilty. “I’m glad,” I assured him. “It helps to get the key facts out in front because God, it’s terrible to have to say those things.”

Santo reached across the table and put his hand on mine for a second. A simple touch, not a caress, but it brought a rush of sudden tears to my eyes. I blinked, sniffed, swallowed. Nodded speechlessly. He took his hand away, saying, “It was almost six months before I could tell someone we were getting a divorce without breaking down.”

“How’s your daughter doing?”

“She’s okay. Everyone we know is on our side. And Dave wasn’t terrible about it. He didn’t take the job with the intention of breaking us up, it was a real career-changing opportunity. Pays child support, no bullshit. The truth is, once she stopped being a cute little portable toddler, he didn’t love parenting quite so much. Once she became a person, with her own very distinct personality, and her own ideas about how her life should be. You never wanted to have your own kids?”

I shook my head. “I was never in that kind of relationship, and honestly the idea of doing it alone never occurred to me. Or, like, only in this oh my God no kind of way. The few single parents I knew were all struggling.”

“It’s hard, I won’t lie.” Santo sat back, gazing at me. “And you’re off to a rocky start. No fault of your own. How difficult was it to tell her she needed to come to LA?”

I blew out a breath. “Very. It wasn’t so much leaving her house. Without Alyssa and Joe in it, I think she kind of hated it. But all her friends. The community theater. Her dance school and partner and favorite teachers. That’s a lot to leave.”