She wasn’t his daughter. But he was her father. So, in addition to living with his best friend, they were now raising her child together. If that didn’t scream gay, he didn’t know what did.
Not that he minded the kid. Besides, her only other option was living with her biological father, who had since become a drunk.
Her mother wasn’t a slut; she was just “affectionate”. They weren’t gay. They didn’t even like show tunes.
“Daddy, why are people staring at us?”
They weren’t staring. More, occasionally taking double takes or old people were glaring at them. Really, she should be used to it by now.
“See, I told you we shouldn’t have come here,” hissed Waldo, his best friend, complete with glasses and sweater.
So that’s where she got it from. “Relax. Are you seriously still concerned about people thinking you’re gay?”
“Well, they do! And we’re not! People are just…” he lowered his voice. “… Perverts.”
“WHAT’S THAT YOU SAY? ALL THESE PEOPLE ARE PERVERTS?”
Now they were staring. It would teach Waldo a lesson, too.
People see what they want to. But that didn’t mean we had to sink to their level and try to hide away.