Mack

Michael “Mack” Schwartz

For the past four years, I’ve been living with a bleak, dark hole in my chest. Ever since I ended my relationship with Jeff Endsley, the love of my life. I didn’t break up with him because I wanted to. No, definitely not. My reason is far more complicated.

It started when my son, Daniel, started insisting that I change, and I’m not talking about my hairstyle or my wardrobe. While it pained me to do so, I owe him. After all, I’d caused him enough damage by lying to him for so long. But my son’s list of changes is growing with every passing day: Don’t be gay. Sell your house. Sell the bar. Move to Austin. Live under my thumb. Fall in love with a woman.

If Daniel gets his way, I’ll be spending my twilight years in a sterile Austin condo, twiddling my thumbs and waiting for his royal decree on what I can have for dinner. Needless to say, the future looks about as exciting as watching grass grow.