Coming Out, Again Wrong restaurant. My mistake. He arrives from 20-minutes away to a cold breakfast special and news delivered as a riddle: "Terminal, but healthy." Our 13-year argument, from birth to adolescence, rings in both our heads. He goes flat. Pull out my brave, and statistics given by an immigrant accent in a too-happy tie, an apology to him as much as to me, and his favorite words: "You were right" in the worst possible way. He nods. Searches for an answer. Leaves it alone.