real life
When Monica Foster, 32, reached out to her former school teacher for advice, she had no idea it would change her life forever…
AsI tucked my kids Zeke, seven and Charlie, six, into bed, I tiptoed out of their rooms trying not to wake them up. Then I slumped down on the sofa and silently sobbed. I’d recently divorced my husband, their father, after realising I was gay.
The split had been tough and on top of that, I’d had to come out to family and friends. I lived in a traditional Christian community and it wasn’t received well.
Now, I was a lonely, single mum and was struggling. I desperately needed to talk to someone who understood but I didn’t know anyone who was gay. Then my mind jumped back to my school science teacher, Mrs Foster. I’d been 13 when she’d taught our class. All the kids loved her fun attitude and interesting lessons. I’d had a sense she might be a member of the LGBT community. I always thought of her classroom as a safe space, so I knew I’d feel comfortable talking to her.
Searching on Facebook, I found her – Michelle Foster. I sent a friend request, and when she accepted, I messaged her. Do you remember me? I asked. Of course! she replied. Taking a deep breath, I then explained why I’d reached out. “Congratulations on coming out!” she wrote. “It’s a good thing. Your family love you, but they’re doing this out of fear. You have to keep with it.”
As we messaged, Michelle told me she was married. She and her wife, Rachel* , had a daughter and had fostered four other kids over the years. Talking to her was so reassuring and helped me so much, I asked to meet Michelle for lunch.
I arranged a babysitter for the kids, and we met at a coffee shop. When Michelle arrived, I thought she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. But I pushed down those feelings because I knew she was married and what I needed more than anything was a friend. “I came out when I was 19, and life was hard,” Michelle explained over lunch. “I’m not sure my family will ever understand,”
I said. “Give them time,” she replied. By the time we parted, we’d become firm friends. It didn’t
matter that at 55, Michelle was 25 years older than me. When she invited me to go camping with her family a couple of weeks later, I was thrilled.
With the kids at their dad’s, I drove to the campsite. Michelle, now 57, introduced me to Rachel and her daughter, and we all got on well. We spent a glorious day rock climbing and playing games until it was time for dinner. That evening, we all sat around a f lickering campfire, roasting marshmallows and laughing together. “I’m so happy you could come, Monica,” Michelle said. “You’re so lucky,” I told her.
