Tenebrosity

Chapter Three: “Vicissitude”

 

There's no tragedy in life like the death of a child. Things never get back to the way they were ~ Dwight D. Eisenhower

*****
 

Saturday, September 17, 2016

I peek my head around the barely open door to Dad’s office. He didn’t hear me when I first came in even though I yelled, so I figured he probably fell asleep at his desk. That’s how I found him last Sunday.

Today he’s staring at his computer, completely immersed in whatever it is he’s working on.

“Hey Dad.” I keep my voice soft, but he still jumps.

“Gus, what are you doing here?” he asks, waving me in and giving me the slightest grin.

His forced smile makes me hurt for him. “I was bored,” I tell him. It’s only half of the truth.

“You were bored, huh?” he asks, closing his laptop cover.

“Sorta,” I say, “but I came here for a reason.”

“And that reason is?”

“Well, as you probably realize, Tuesday is my birthday. I was hoping that you’d take me out to practice driving and maybe we could…”

“No,” he barks, the small word cutting into my hopes. “We’ve already talked about this, Gus.”

“I know, but that was while I still lived in Toronto. I didn’t have my permit back then.”

“Gus,” he sighs tiredly. “I don’t think you’re ready to drive.”

“I’m a good driver,” I say. It’s true, I really am. My driver’s education teacher said I was the best in the class. “Ask Mom, she’ll tell you how good I am. She said I could get my license on Tuesday. She has off work so she can take me, but I wanted to get some practice in first.”

“What part of ‘I don’t want you driving’ didn’t you understand?”

Of course I know that’s what he meant, but it isn’t his decision whether or not I drive. “Dad, you said that you didn’t think I was ready to drive. If you practice with me tomorrow, I can show you that I am a good driver.”

“Wait a minute,” he growls, looking back up at me. “Are you planning on driving around that clunker of your mother’s?”

“It’s not a clunker,” I reply, “she got it three years ago.”

“It was used when she got it. It’s a 2009! There’s no way you’re driving that car, it could break down any minute.”

“Then you can buy me a new one,” I reason. “You promised me that if I did well in school, which I have, and didn’t piss off my moms, which I didn’t, that I could get one when I turned sixteen.”

“That was before…” he stops short and spins his chair so he doesn’t face me.

I knew that this was going to be hard on him. He’s been punishing himself for what happened to Arella, but now he’s punishing me too. I’m about to say something else to try to help my case, but then he starts crying.

I’ve seen my dad cry a few times, but from what I can remember of those times, he made no sound. Now he’s making these deep heaving breaths laced with whimpers. I don’t know what to do or say. I’ve never seen him break down like this.

No, no, no. That’s wrong. I have seen him like this. He was like this in the hospital and he was like this during the funeral and for a while afterward. But we were all so shattered that it just made sense. Now it doesn’t. Or maybe it should.

“Gus,” he chokes out, breathing hard and fast. One word that again dashes my hopes because he isn’t saying my name to reach out to me, he’s saying it as if he wants to push me away.

God damn it! I want to scream right now! My whole body is shaking too and I realize I’m crying like a little baby and I shouldn’t be. He’s probably going to think I’m crying about not getting a car, but that isn’t it, that isn’t it at all. I’m crying because this is my DAD sitting in front of me and he’s completely fucked up. He looks so lost and alone and seeing him like this is torturing me.

“Gus, please…” he growls desperately. I’m sure that he’s trying to tell me to leave. I won’t though. I can’t.

“Don’t,” he whispers to me when I tentatively place my hand on his shoulder.

“It’s okay, Dad,” I tell him, walking around the chair to face him. “You don’t have to take me to practice driving.” I should never have asked him. I should not have brought this up with him at all. What was I thinking?

“A father should teach his son how to drive,” he speaks firmly, tilting his face up to glance at me.

Jesus. He looks so weak, so needy; words that until this moment I never would have used to describe my father. He’s always been so strong and sure of himself. He was my hero when I was little and he still is now. But I realize with sudden intensity that he hasn’t been strong or sure of himself since Arella died. None of us really are, but this… this is so much more. Oh my god, I don’t know what to do.

I figured that my dads were taking care of each other all this time. Maybe I was just hoping that was the truth. I think everyone is under that impression. Mom and Ma were so worried about me; I don’t think they focused much on them. Everyone else lives their own lives, far away from West Virginia. I could always tell at every fucking family gathering we’ve had since Rel died that they were putting on a show, but I thought that was normal. It’s far from normal. I see that now.

Oh god, do I see it. Whatever blindfold covered my eyes is gone away and I feel like I’m going to puke. But I can’t, I have to fight the urge to run away from him because I think that he needs me. I just don’t know how to help him, I’m only a kid but deep down I know that it is up to me! Damn it, I feel so bad for him, for both of them but I don’t understand how they could keep me in the dark like this. Sure, they can fool everyone else, but why would they want to fool me? I’m their child too! Don’t they give a shit about what all the pretending has done to me?

Dad is good at holding in his emotions. If he’s crumbling so quickly now, then things are worse for him than I imagined. He hasn’t healed in any way; his wounds are still gaping open and no one has tended to him. It’s abruptly obvious that the ‘show’ they put on, making people believe they are still living, and getting on with their lives, is more than just a lie to us, it’s been a lie to each other too. Dad looks like he hasn’t had anyone care for him and that terrifies me. I’m so angry but I’m also so sad and I want my Dads to be okay. Fuck! I just want them to be my dads again.

I don’t even want to imagine how it really is in my dads’ house, what they’re like when they’re alone. The thought petrifies me, chills my bones, but I have to find out the truth of their relationship. I have to find a way to save them both from the despair. I have to figure out something. I’ve got to think about this. I’m so confused and I know it isn’t going to be easy but I have to do it. Shit! I don’t know where to start but I do know one thing, I’m not going to let them fool me into thinking everything is all right. They won’t fool me again. I’m only sixteen; I don’t have vast years of knowledge about this kind of thing but I have vast years of knowledge about them. I’d ask my family to do something, but I don’t think they’ve been of any help this entire time so what can they do now? What can I do now to fix them? I hope knowing them in a way no one else does can help me figure it out because things aren’t going to be the same now that I know the truth.

“You deserve a better father,” he whispers, wiping his tears away with shaky fingers.

“I have two great fathers,” I say, wanting nothing more than to go to him and hug him but I’m afraid that he’ll reject me the way he’s rejecting himself.

“Yeah,” he snorts, “I’m really someone you should look up to. I’m nothing like a normal father.”

“That’s bullshit,” I tell him. “You don’t do a lot of things other dads do,” I remind him and kneel down in front of his feet.

“Thanks,” he mumbles sarcastically, dropping his head into his hands.

“That’s what makes you the best dad in the whole world,” I reply honestly.

He snaps his head up and looks at me fearfully. His mouth opens and closes and I think he was about to say, ‘what’, but he doesn’t speak again. He just covers his face with his hands and starts to cry again.

Finally, I give in to my need and take a chance, hoping that he doesn’t push me away. I wrap my arms around him and squeeze him as tight as I possibly can, struggling to not also cry. He needs someone to be his hero. “I really mean that, Dad,” I say. “You’re the best.”

His quick grip when he tugs me close and wraps his arms around me, squeezing my face against his chest; nearly knocks the wind out of me. He breathes my name a couple of times and I think he’s trying to reassure himself that I’m still alive.

“It’s okay, Dad. It’s okay,” I speak repeatedly against his chest, his quickly beating heart sounding as loud as the sobs he’s making as he holds onto me and cries. I want to cry too, my eyes burn and I want to release the shakes inside of me but I remain strong and steady for him. I’m fucked up too, but I’m not going to stand for them impersonating themselves any longer!

 

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My knees are aching when Dad gently pushes me away from him, stands up and calmly walks into his office bathroom. I go back over to my chair, pick up one of the magazines, sitting on his desk and mindlessly flip through the pages. He’s taking a while in there; I bet he thinks I’ll leave if he does. He doesn’t have anything to be ashamed of, but I know he thinks he does.

Mom and Ma would always talk about Dad as if he weren’t ever around. Sure, we lived in another country, which would explain a few things, but they acted as if he was the one who put the distance between us. That couldn’t have been further from the truth. The moms were the ones who chose to move Jenny and me away from our fathers.

Yes, I’ve been told the story about how our two dads gave their ‘blessings’ so we could all live a better, happier, safer life in Canada. I think that is total bullshit. Ma practically told it to Jenny like it was some wonderful fairytale. No wonder why, until last year, she thought her dad’s secret identity actually was Zephyr. Ma could tell stories like no one else; she is a lawyer after all. Anyway, I’m sure Uncle Michael’s fears manipulated his decision to let them whisk his ‘Jen-Bug’ off to a faraway land.

My dad, well I’m pretty sure it wasn’t fear from what everyone refers to just as ‘the bombing’ that manipulated him into letting them take me. It’s not as if he had legal rights to me and I realize that I could be totally off base here, but I’m damn sure he wanted me to stay. I’ve opened my mouth to ask him a hundred times but I never have. I wasn’t afraid of his answer; I just didn’t want him to feel bad if I questioned him about it. He makes no bones about telling me he’s a shitty father every chance he gets. It’s like a defense mechanism; he thinks that if he admits to it and it turns out that it’s true, he won’t have regrets.

Of course, it isn’t true and I know he didn’t want me to live in Toronto. I felt it, I knew it, and so I really don’t know why I’ve ever thought about asking. There’s a lot of stuff about that time that everyone whispers about, and unless I ask my dads directly, I don’t get any answers to the questions I have about it. Talking to them about my moms is like pulling teeth, they’re so careful about what they tell me because they don’t want to risk my moms telling them they can’t see me anymore. That has always made me so angry, how hard my dads fight to be a part of my life and the fear of them doing something wrong and having to bear my moms’ wrath. It’s total bullshit, and I’ve always known it is and I’ve always hated it. Now that my moms are split up it really isn’t an issue any longer, especially because I’m older and if I wanted to I could emancipate myself from my mothers if they forced me to. So after I help my dads get better, I’m going to get the answers to all the questions I was always too afraid to ask them.

I gave up asking Mom and Ma for details about my dads a few months after Rel was born because I knew what they were doing. I was young, but I wasn’t stupid. They said many bad things about Dad when they found out that they were having a baby. One time, they cancelled their trip to come see me because Arella had pneumonia and needed to stay overnight at the hospital. She was very little then and when I talked to Dad, he sounded scared, even though he kept telling me Arella would be fine, so I understood why he couldn’t visit. I knew they would again.

Mom and Ma didn’t understand. I could hear them bitching about him from my bedroom upstairs. They went on and on about his priorities, about how he couldn’t be there for his son, but was there for his daughter. Mom thought he was choosing Rel over me. She brought up the time when I broke my arm rollerblading the summer before, yelled about how Dad couldn’t show up at the hospital for that, though he did visit me, three days later. I guess Mom forgot about that. Then Ma reminded her that I wasn’t ‘really’ his son, his responsibility.

That was the first time I ever heard about the parental rights and after I asked Dad about what they were, he got very quiet and told me they were just meaningless pieces of paper. They are, because with the exception of the last three years, he’s been my father in every way that counts, every way that I need. Even better, I had Justin in my life too; he gave me that.

I know Mom and Ma were jealous of Arella’s impact on my dad’s life and I sort of understand it now. But anyone that knew Rel couldn’t not love her, so it only took a few visits for them to stop being so weird about Dad’s relationship with her compared to mine. I was never jealous of Arella, not in any way that mattered in the end. I had my dads in my life, even if the moms and everyone else have talked about my Dad as if he never was. He always was, even if it was being there for things he hated like taking me school shopping at ‘The Gap’, attending a student progress appointment with Mom just because he happened to be flying in that Friday morning, giving me the sex talk and actually gearing it toward heterosexual sex, which was hilarious. Dad was there for me physically, emotionally and intellectually up until the moment that Arella died. Since then, he’s tried to be physically, and I understand why, mentally, he hasn’t been.

For the record, I have on occasion called Justin ‘Daddy’ or ‘Dad’. I'm not sure when that started, but I’ve never given a shit if people think it’s childish. I haven’t used those names for him in three years; not because I think of his role in my life as less than it was before, it’s because I know the last person to call him that was Arella. I barely speak to him or interact with him, so I doubt he has noticed. I just can’t bring myself to call him that because the first time after Rel died that he heard me say “Dada,” in a joking manner to Dad, he ran upstairs to his room and didn’t come out for the rest of the day. Dad says that’s how Justin is now. I thought things would change for him. It’s not in Dad to give up on people, but I think he may have given up on Justin; or, he’s accepted that they’ll both forever be lost.

I’m not going to give up on Justin and I won’t let Dad. I won’t give up on either of them. They were always there for me and now it’s my time to be here for them. I’ll show them the way out of the darkness. I’m their son, it’s my job and I’ve learned a lot from them and now I’m going to use what they taught me.

And, I have a plan, one that works well with my other plans too.

Dad finally comes out of the bathroom, his posture straight, and his expression cool, but he doesn’t look at me as he takes his seat across from me. I know that I have to do something now to ease the tension or he’s likely to tell me to get the fuck out and I know that’s not what he needs. He needs some ‘normal’ conversation. He needs to know that his anguish and pain isn’t scaring me away.

“Dad?”

“Yeah?” Still he doesn’t look in my eyes, his gaze is focused over my left shoulder; taking in the painting hanging on the wall, the one I divert my eyes from every time I’m in here.

“Do you think I could work here part-time?”

My question makes him laugh. Definitely not the reaction I was hoping for, but at least he didn’t tell me I was out of my mind. I’m glad that he was able to get himself together enough to actually garner and express that emotion.

“I’m serious,” I tell him.

His amusement is evident in his expression. “I don’t hire teenagers, not even my son.”

“Justin worked for you when he was technically still a teenager,” I point out.

He rolls his eyes and grins before refuting my claim, “He was twenty….or close to it.”

“That’s only four years older than me,” I say smugly. By the way, Justin told me he was nineteen the first time he worked for Dad. “Lots of sons work for their dads.”

“You don’t have to work, Gus. I’d rather you focus on your schoolwork. You know I’ll give you spending money if you need it.”

“It’s not just for spending money. I want a job so that I can do something productive.” Like helping you and keeping a close eye on you.

“School work is productive,” he quips, leaning back in his chair and smirking. “If it isn’t, then I’m sure you can ask your teachers for more homework.”

“Theoretically, I’ve already taken all the classes that are required for graduation.” I know I’ve expressed this to him before, but he hasn’t exactly been listening, and I don’t fault him for that.

“Technically, that’s a load of bullshit,” he counters. “You’re only a sophomore.”

“I skipped two grades when we moved here, remember?” I would have thought he’d at least remember that. He took me out to dinner to celebrate when we got the final word from the school’s aptitude tests and cleared transferring my credits.

“Right, I forgot. I guess living in Canada did you some good. But you still need to acquire enough credits to graduate, so you don’t exactly have all the classes required to get your diploma, if you did, you’d have one.”

“It’s not bullshit. You can ask Mom. Everything that I took which was a part of the curriculum in Canada equaled out to all the required courses I need here. Everything else I’m taking is elective courses to amount for the number of credits for graduation. All I have is two art classes and a bunch of study hall hours or…”

“Or what?”

“I have until the end of next week to sign up for CVE and replace my study hall hours and earn credits with the Cooperative Vocational Education program.”

“You’re not taking CVE,” he barks. “You don’t need to work.”

“You took it when you were in high school,” I remind him.

“I had to,” he says. “You don’t.”

“I fucking hate Allegheny High!” Fuck. I didn’t mean to whine.

“So did I, but that doesn’t mean you can piss off your last year of high school. You’re already ahead of your peers; you’ll be going to college and getting a job a lot sooner than they will. Do you really want to work away the last remaining years of your childhood?”

I clear my throat and speak steadily, “I’m not a child.”

He snorts and shakes his head. “You’re turning sixteen Tuesday. In my book, that means you’re still a child.”

“Justin was only a year older than me when you met him. Did you think of him as a child?”

“Yes,” he says quickly and to my complete surprise. “But so was I, in a lot of ways. Believe me; savor being young and having no responsibilities while you can.”

“I can savor being young and still have responsibilities, such as, keeping a part-time job.”

“Not working here,” he shoots me down.

I raise my eyebrows and confidently speak, “Fine. But Mom already gave me her approval to go into the program. So it’s a done deal.” I hate having to allude to reminding him twice in one day that she’s the one with legal rights, but I have to do it. “I’ll just get a shitty job in a fast-food restaurant which will provide me with next to no ‘real world’ job experience. Maybe I will love working there and I’ll chose to make flipping burgers a lifetime career. Hey, did you know that McDonald’s sends their workers to a special college? Shit! You wouldn’t have to fork over any of that trust you have set up for me. Yup. McDonald’s, that’ll be so much better than working for my dad in the East Coast’s number one advertising agency.” I cross my arms, lean back in my chair and grin smugly at the sour expression on his face.

“Are you done?”

“Uh-huh. Unless, you have other job ideas, maybe you know someone down at the Big Q. I hear they treat their employees exceptionally well…only they don’t have a Big Q college, do they?”

“You’re a manipulative little shit,” he sneers, but his lips quirk into a proud smile. He launches into laughter as I smile at him and the sound is music to my ears. It’s a real belly laugh coming from him and I know that already my plan is working.

“I know,” I say, “I learned from the master, or so I’ve heard.” Justin used to say that to me when I was little and would give him my ‘puppy dog’ face to get something I wanted.

He laughs at me. “Okay, then you’ll start now.”

“Fine.” Wow! I seriously thought he’d make me work at the fucking Big Q or God forbid, Mc-Fucking-Donald’s for a few weeks before giving in.

“But I’m not paying you for today. You can’t legally work here until all the paperwork goes through with your school.”

“Whatever.” I shrug. “So what do I get to do?”

“What do you think?”

“Ah… I have no idea,” I admit.

“That magazine you’ve got and this whole stack,” he points to the thirty or so sitting in a tall pile on his desk, “look through them and start circling.” He throws a red permanent marker at me.

“What am I circling?” I ask, uncapping it and flipping open the US Weekly.

“Advertisements, of course.”

“But there’s got to be a thousand of them!”

“Then you’d better get started,” he snickers.

“What do I do after I’ve circled them?”

“Make a list, you figure out the details, then we’ll see what position you’re best suited for.”

“Are you serious?”

“You’re in my office, Gus.”

He takes his business very seriously, I get it. “Do you have a notebook I can write in?”

“Do you know how to use Microsoft Office Suite 14?”

“Is it the same programs from 13?” I ask. The computer I got for my 8th grade graduation came with that installed and I’m good with all the extensions.

“Yeah, there are a couple of new features but it’s pretty much the same.” He picks up the laptop and shoves it in my direction. “Go sit at the table, I’ll use my desktop.”

I smile and take the computer from him, rising to my feet. I know he just bought this so I can’t wait to explore it! I place it on the table in the corner of the room and then go after the magazines. It takes three trips to get them all and even though Dad is typing away on his desktop, I know he’s also amused that I’m tired and breathing heavily by the time I sit down.

“You forgot this.”

“Damn it!” I struggle to get out of the chair and walk back to the desk to retrieve the marker he’s waving at me. Just as I’m about to grasp it, he snatches it away from me. “Dad,” I groan.

“Sonnyboy,” he sing-songs. This must be one of the ways he was still a child when he first met Justin; ‘cause it turns out, he still is.

“Just give me the marker,” I tell him, trying to grab for it.

“Have you been smoking?” he asks, looking directly into my eyes to see if I’m lying.

“You smoke,” I say, not exactly wanting to answer truthfully. I don’t smoke regularly, usually only when I’m really stressed out.

“I quit.”

“You have fucking not!”

“Don’t talk to me like that, Gus.”

“You’ve never cared before,” I say.

“Well, I care when you’re in my office, you’re my employee. If you’re going to be here every day after school, you can’t go waltzing around here and talking to me as if I’m your Dad. I’m your boss, Gus, and people around here fear me. I don’t need them thinking that I’m handing you a position on a silver platter or that I’ve gone soft because my kid’s in my office.”

“They won’t think that,” I promise him. “I’ll make sure to tell everyone how hard you’re working me,” I joke.

“Good.” He holds out the red sharpie and barks, “Get to work.”

I grab the marker and go to sit down at the table; feeling satisfied that Dad got completely off topic. After I open to the first page of the magazine, and circle the three advertisements I open the laptop. It was in a state of hibernation so I have to touch the mouse pad to get it going. When the screen comes on, I immediately feel my heart twist in agony.

 

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Sunday, June 17, 2012

I watch the images scroll by on my computer and I’m completely amazed with my kid. Gus is great with Photoshop and it shows in every picture. I didn’t realize that Justin and I have taken so many photos of Gus and Arella together over the years. There are also dozens of pictures of Gus, Rel, Justin and me that I haven’t ever seen. They must be pictures Gus or the munchers took the times we were visiting them in Toronto.

“Like it, Dada?” Arella asks, clambering to sit on my lap.

“I love it,” I answer her, kissing her cheek.

“My awt, Daddy’s awt and Gus’ awt,” she listed pointing at the computer screen. “See it foweva.”

“Forever,” I affirm, brushing my fingers through Rel’s soft blonde hair. “Every time I turn on my computer I’ll see things that remind me of my favorite people.”

Justin runs his hand over my thigh and we share a smile and roll our eyes at the cheesy line I spoke. It’s his fault and he’ll pay for it later.

“How did you make the videos part of the slideshow?” Justin asks when a clip of Gus pushing Rel on the swing-set in the backyard appears.

Gus laughs for a while before answering, “That’s like so totally something that you could do ten years ago.”

Justin looks up at our too tall, twelve-year-old son and playfully pushes him. “Don’t be an ass. But just so you know, you’re spending tomorrow teaching me how to do that.”

“I teach ya, Daddy,” Rel says proudly. “Gus teached me.”

“You did?” I ask Gus, wondering if our four-year-old is exaggerating.

“It’s no big deal, Dad,” Gus says.

He can act like such a ‘know it all’ little shit.

“She moved the mouse, clicked to cut the clips and dragged them into a folder. Don’t tell me you don’t know how to do it, Dad.”

“Of course I do,” I say and grab Justin’s hand. “I’m not technically incompetent.”

Justin yanks his hand away and smacks my arm. “What is this? Pick on Justin day?”

“Jeez, Dad, he really is slow this morning.”

“Don’t be an ass to Justin,” I warn Gus. The kid is too smart for his own good and he thinks that entitles him to act like…well to act like me. Fuck.

“Sorry,” he says sincerely, leaning down to give Justin a hug.

“It’s Daddies day, Daddy,” Arella feels the need to remind us. “Not pick on you day.”

“I know it is, Rel,” Justin whispers. “I was joking.”

Arella huffs. “Not funny, Daddy.”

“Daddy is the most hilarious person on earth, Rel.”

“He is?” Arella asks in amazement, looking from me to Justin and then to Gus.

Gus nods. “Oh yeah, when you’re older you’ll see what we mean.”

Justin puts his hands on his hips and grumbles, “What are you two talking about? I’m not funny. I’m like the least funny person I know.”

Gus giggles and I have to join in.

Justin glares and throws his hands up in the air. “Okay,” he sighs dramatically, “you two are officially dummies.”

“Dummies?” Gus asks.

“That’s so childish,” I snicker.

“Me too?” Rel asks excitedly, not wanting to be left out.

Justin grabs Rel from my lap and puts her around his waist. “You are the most mature person I know, Rel.”

“Put me down,” Arella requests, wiggling around.

Justin puts Arella down and pouts. “I wanted to hold you. It’s Father’s Day and you’re my present.”

Arella starts dancing in place. “I am?”

“You are,” Justin affirms.

“Gus an’ me got you something betta’,” she says dreamily.

“Nothing could be better than you two,” Justin tells her, surpassing my earlier line of cheese by a hundred percent.

“I have to go pee pee and poo poo first,” Rel announces, running out of the office.

“She’s the most mature person you know?” I ask, mocking Justin.

“Fuck off,” Justin groans but decides to start kissing my neck.

“You better stop there,” I tell him, feeling my dick swell as he bites down hard.

“Why?”

“Because there are children in the room,” Gus answers for me, covering his eyes.

“He really isn’t gay, is he?” I ask Justin.

“If I were gay I still wouldn’t want to watch my own parents make out,” Gus groans, peeking through his fingers.

“I thought you were bisexual, Gus?” Justin asks him.

“I am, I think. But again, I still think you guys are gross.”

“Good,” Justin snickers, “then you’ll have no problem wiping Rel’s poopy butt then taking her upstairs to play?”

“This isn’t fair,” Gus huffs, but begins to walk to the office door. “Do you want me to lock it?” He noticeably shivers with disgust.

“Yes,” I’m quick to reply.

“You are getting punished, right now, you’ve been very bad,” Justin admonishes me.

“No, Daddy,” I say jokingly.

Justin’s eyes blaze with lust. “You are a bad influence.”

“OH GOD!” Gus yells, slamming the door closed behind him. “I’ve got to bleach my eyes and find something that will make me go deaf!”

“Go watch that cartoon that has horrible animation,” Justin yells back at him.

“Or listen to that shit you call music!” I add.

Justin turns off the computer screen and pulls on my collar. “Get up!” he orders.

“Jesus, you’re so touchy today.” I quickly listen to him though because he is so fucking hot when he’s bitchy.

Justin kicks away the office chair and pushes me face down on the desk. “Lucky for you,” he growls, pulling my sweatpants down and pushing my shirt up my torso.

Justin grinds his clothed crotch against my exposed ass and I feel him getting harder. The material from his jeans starts chafing my skin but I really don’t care. He’s got me just where he wants and I’d be a fool to pretend it’s not where I want to be too. “We don’t have any lube in here,” I warn, craning my neck to look back at Justin.

His cheeks are flushed, his eyes are glazed, and his expression sends a chill up my spine. He unsnaps his jeans, pushes them and his briefs down his legs and grasps his cock. “I guess your luck ran out, Brian.”

I don’t know what the fuck comes over me, but I moan and buck against Justin, feeling his hot cock drip pre-come onto my skin. “Eat my ass,” I demand as his thumb circles around my hole beside his probing dick.

“We don’t have time for that,” Justin tells me, opening up my cheeks. He spits on my entrance a few times and then starts slipping the head of his cock inside me.

“Justin,” I moan his name in warning, feeling my hole burn.

“You haven’t showered and I fucked you two hours ago, you’ll be fine,” Justin soothes, rubbing his free hand over the small of my back. He swivels his hips and his cockhead stretches my ring and rubs around inside me. “You’re still wet.”

“Justin, don’t.” I’m not above begging here. But what am I going to beg him for, for him to fuck me or…

Justin laughs and slips his cock out of me. “Okay, okay.” He shuffles around to the other side of the desk, places his palms on it and lifts himself up. “Suck me.”

I turn my head and stretch to reach Justin’s cock. “This is how I prefer to spend my holidays.”

Justin’s laugh turns into a groan as my lips wrap around the head of his penis. “With you, bent over, servicing me?” he asks, his eyes fluttering closed. “I have to agree.”

I pull my mouth off Justin’s dick and back away.

“What the fuck, Brian! I was only joking!” Justin gasps, stroking his cock.

“I know, fucker,” I tell him, scrambling over to where they’d set up the tripod with the video camera behind the desk. “Gus turned this fucking thing on right before he led us in here to view our surprise!”

“We have to stop doing this. One of these days we’re going to forget to edit the video and someone else is going to be surprised.”

I take the tape out, replace it with a brand new one from one of the desk drawers, and click record. “Don’t worry; I won’t forget to edit that with this one.”

 

фффффф

Monday, September 19, 2016

At first, I think that Brian is talking on the phone. But when I listen closely, I hear another set of footsteps, another voice and then, laughter.

You have to be fucking kidding me!

I wheel myself out of the kitchen and across the hall into the room I’m using, just as I hear the hall closet door close. I know that it’s just Gus, which means that I should be feeling the complete opposite of what I am. I should be happy to see the son whom I haven’t spent any decent time with in years, I know that I should. I can’t help running, or in my case, wheeling away from him.

Anytime anyone has come here, I’ve been informed, well in advance. I was able to prepare for it. I could get myself into a different state of mind. Of course, I still shake inside, but I usually have time to get myself ready for the interaction. Interaction. That word alone makes me break into a cold sweat.

“Justin?”

God damn it, Brian!

I hoist myself up to flick the light off in the bedroom as quickly as I can. If I can make it in bed and get under the covers, he’ll think I’m asleep and probably won’t disturb me. I know what he wants and I don’t want to deal with it right now. I can’t.

I bang my leg on the side of the wheel chair as I scramble into my bed and flip the throw blanket over me. It’s hard for me to fake sleep because the pain in my leg is agonizing and I can’t stop breathing heavily.

“Justin,” Brian calls and knocks on the door to my room.

Shit! Isn’t it obvious I want him to leave me alone?

“Justin, I know you’re awake. I heard you come in here,” he says this quieter than he called my name. He’s probably ashamed that I ran in here.

“Then come in,” I bark, sitting up and throwing the blanket off me. “But just you,” I add.

The door opens and he immediately turns on the light as he comes in, and then closes it behind him.

“What do you want?” I ask when he just stares at me for a minute, looking nervous. I can’t stand seeing him nervous, it’s too revealing of what has changed him.

“I know that you know Gus is here.”

“Yeah, thanks for fucking calling and telling me you were having a guest over!”

“Gus isn’t a guest; he’s my son. Our son, even if you don’t want him to be.”

What the fuck did he just say? “What are you talking about?” Of course I want him to be my son!

Brian shakes his head and sits down beside me, so close to me I hate it but hate the slight separation just as much. I can see the color in his eyes, all the colors, every single one that makes up the light hazel they turn when he’s indecisive about something.

“Just say it,” I urge him. “I was trying to sleep.”

“You’ve probably been asleep all day. I know you came in here to get away from me.”

“Not you,” I correct him. It’s the truth; I have managed to be around him without feeling anxious every second we’re in a room together. I don’t have to be anyone but who I am with him, I guess that’s one thing that hasn’t changed. “I… I wasn’t ready for Gus, today.”

“Tomorrow is Gus’ sixteenth birthday. I wanted to take him home.”

“Why didn’t you?” I bite my lip and look away from him. I can’t believe I actually said that aloud. Even if I wish he would have, I never should have said that.

He places his fingers on the side of my face and turns me back toward him. It’s a movement that is so softly made, it stuns me, and I can’t move away from him. I don’t even flinch when his fingers travel down my neck, chest and land on my fingers sticking out of the cast.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” I say, hoping the acknowledgement is enough of an apology.

“He misses you,” he tells me, shrugging his shoulders and holding my eyes with his own glassy stare. For a minute, I think he might say, ‘I miss you’, but he doesn’t. He pulls his lips into his mouth and just nods his head.

“Can I come in?” Gus asks behind the closed door.

“No,” I whisper to Brian, “please, just…”

“Dad, are you in there too?” Gus calls.

“Yeah, Sonnyboy. I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Is Daddy… Is Justin okay?”

Fuck….fuck… “Brian,” I gasp, closing my eyes when my body’s temperature immediately starts to heat up inside me. I think I’m going to be sick. I can’t breathe. I can’t fucking breathe!

“Calm down,” Brian orders loudly.

“Just go,” I beg him, opening my eyes. I try to push him to get up from the bed but he won’t move. “Please, just go out there with him, Brian! He…..he can’t come in here. I don’t want him in here.”

“He’s going to hear you,” he hisses and brings me into his arms. His lips press against my ear and he whispers, “Do you want him to know that you don’t want him around you?”

“Please,” I try again, “please just go.”

“It’s just Gus, Justin. This isn’t about anyone else but Gus. He loves you; he wants to see you.”

“I can’t!” I scream, using all my energy to fight him off. “I…I can’t… I don’t know why I can’t. I don’t know why. Do you know why, Brian? Can you fix it? Can you fix it?” I beg for his answer, anger stabilizing my anxiety a little. “Can you tell me what I can do?”

“You can face it!” he roars, pushing my shoulders and flinging me so I land against the pillows.

I turn away from him as he gets up to leave. I don’t want Gus to see me crying and weeping like a lunatic. Worse, I don’t want to see Gus standing on the other side of the door, waiting for his dads to come out, standing all alone. Alone without her beside him, always beside him whenever Gus was here with us.

I can’t see that. Every time he’s been here, there have been other people here too and I can just imagine that she’s off playing with someone else. I tell myself that I can’t hear her because the noise of everyone else talking drowns her out. But this is the first time it’s supposed to be just the four of us and…

I can’t stop thinking about what once was; what should be and what will never be again! I want to stop though. I swear I want to fucking stop thinking, stop having these useless thoughts. I’d rather be brain dead than be bombarded with the soul scorching reminders that punch me in the gut and scrape my heart, every second of every day that I’m not inside my head’s world.

I want to fix my head so that I don’t know anything. I wish my mashed brain and fucked memory would steal all knowledge of her from me. I know exactly why Brian told me he wished he could forget the bashing; I didn’t understand the exact reasons then. Now, I get it! I fucking get it. Isn’t that enough? Can’t I just find a way to forget? I’ve tried everything but nothing works.

I want to stop thinking that there is something I can do to get her back. I’ve tried every way I know just to stop thinking about her. But it didn’t work, it doesn’t work, nothing will ever work so I can’t always fight it.

At the end of the day, I berate myself for all the things I do that I know aren’t right to do. I know they aren’t because I hide them from Brian, from everyone. But I have to do them. I can’t stop myself. I have a routine, it starts the moment Brian leaves for work, and it ends a little after noon.

I pour a bowl of Honey-nut Cheerios into her Barbie bowl, put her favorite purple straw-spoon in it and wait for her. I wait for her to wake up. Every day.

If I don’t wait, what will happen? What if she does somehow defy space and time and make her way back here to me and I’m not ready?

I don’t want her to be hungry.

I don’t want her to think I’ve forgotten that she likes her milk in a cup beside her bowl so she can pour it in herself, like a big girl. I give her a napkin because she always spills a little bit, and I pretend not to notice it when she uses it to clean it up.

I make her a strawberry jelly and peanut butter sandwich for lunch with chocolate milk to drink. I loved it when she’d get a milk mustache and go on eating as though she didn’t notice. I have to do this. I don’t know why I can’t stop myself, even if I know that it’s a dirty little secret that I need to stop indulging in.

If anyone were going to defy space and time, it’d be Rel. She was always an angel.

When I chose her first name, it wasn’t because of its meaning.

Gus was watching the cartoon “Teen Titans” in the media room while I was reading a book and trying not to pay attention to the television. I had bitched at Brian when he bought Gus a couple of the seasons because I didn’t want him planted in front of the TV the whole time he was staying that summer. Brian promised only to allow a few marathon days. During one of these days I’d gotten my laptop and half-watched the show while surfing the net.

The name of one of the characters just kept piquing my interest. I hadn’t ever heard it before. Even though our surrogate, Izzy, was almost to her due date, Brian and I were far from settling on a name that we both liked. I rolled the name around in my head a few times and then asked Gus what he thought about it. He, of course, thought it was awesome that we might name his little sister after someone from one of his favorite cartoons.

I was about to look up the character and the meaning of the name online when Izzy came waddling into the media room and told us she was in labor. After Rel was born, Brian was so enamored with her he really didn’t care what we called her, so Gus and I decided on it.

Melanie informed me that the name was Hebrew for Fire Angel, God’s Messenger. Brian and I are far from being religious, but still, the name fit her and I was happy I’d chosen it. She seemed to live up to that name. I know that I’m probably thinking too much about it. I know there may be no such thing as angels, but if there is, I want her to know that I’m waiting for her whenever she’s ready to come back to earth and stay for good. I’ll always wait, no matter how long it takes.

“Justin, can I come in?”

I freeze my movement and try to slow my quick breathing. I hope that he’ll just go away. If I don’t open my eyes to see him, it won’t be real and he’ll leave me alone.

“J…Justin?” he stutters my name and I think he might be crying.

I listen as his footsteps walk toward me and go around the side of the bed I’m facing. I won’t look at him.

“Justin, please,” his voice cracks and I jump when he places his hand on my shoulder.

“Go,” I whisper, squeezing my eyes shut, “please, Gus. I can’t let you see me…”

“You don’t want to see me,” he interrupts me.

“I do,” I say honestly and open my eyes slightly. “I’m not…” I’m not sane. That’s what I should tell him, but instead I say, “I’m not feeling good.”

“You’re hurt?” he asks looking at my injuries.

I just nod, still not looking at him directly, staring over his shoulder out the window.

“Look at me.”

“I need to go to sleep,” I tell him.

“You need me and Dad.”

I can’t move away fast enough and I try to stop him but no matter how I feel, I could never physically push Gus away from me. His arms feel heavy, stronger than I remember. He’s not a little boy anymore, not at all. He’s still my son and I’ve abandoned him. Shame unwinds from inside me, sparking my tears. “I’m sorry, Gus,” I whisper, hugging him close to me. “I’m sorry.”

“I want to help you.”

Chords of stricken despair pass down my spine so fast I feel like I’m going to burst. I start crying and I can’t fucking stop. I shouldn’t be doing this to Gus. He doesn’t deserve this, he deserves so much better. I need to get myself together, but I can’t. He keeps saying ‘Dad, it’s okay’ and it hurts so bad to hear him say that to me. It’s not okay and it’s not okay that it isn’t okay! I’m completely and totally fucked up and I’m fucking Gus’ life up too.

The bed dips beside me, I turn my face out of Gus’s shoulder and see Brian, and he’s crying too. I squirm and try to get out of Gus’ arms when I see Brian lean in to wrap his arms around us, but neither of them lets me go.

At some point Gus starts to cry too and Brian’s fingers tangle into my hair and his cheek presses up against mine. I think all of our tears mix together in some way and I get the feeling that this is something that should’ve happened before, but that’s wrong. It’s so fucking wrong because this never should’ve happened. We shouldn’t be here!

 

фффффф

Monday, September 18, 2006

I slow my pace when I feel my cell phone vibrate against my hip. I stop beside a railroad tie lining one of our neighbor’s yards, pull my earplugs out and stop my iPod. It’s Brian calling and I’m surprised he’s interrupting my run; it must be important.

I grab the phone from out of the pocket in my hydra-holder belt and flip it open. “Hey.”

“Are you jerking off?” Brian asks me with amusement.

“No,” I say, my voice sounding gravely. I grab my water bottle and down a couple of gulps.

“You’re still running?” Brian says surprised.

I look at my watch and see that it’s almost eleven. Unless I’m doing an endurance test, I don’t usually keep track of the number of times I go back and forth from our house to the forest preserve that’s about a half-mile down the road. “I’m still running,” I affirm and look around me. “It’s beautiful out today.”

“Are you sweating?” Brian asks in a husky voice.

I laugh at him, look down at my white trainer tank and see it’s completely soaked through. “Yeah, I’m all sweaty,” I tell him seductively. “Too bad you’re not here to help me get all clean. I think I might have trouble peeling my tank off; it’s practically stuck to my body.”

“You’re an asshole,” he growls playfully.

I grin and feel myself growing hard in my jock strap. Fuck! I’ve got to think of something other than the steamy picture I just drew for us or it’s going to be a very uncomfortable run back to the house. “So why did you call?”

“I need to expand Kinnetik.”

“So the quarter report was good?” He’d been dying to get the numbers. Ted was on vacation last week so Brian had to wait an extra week, he’s been a bear about it.

“It was more than good. But, the thing is, to expand means that we have to hire more staff and move the office someplace else.”

“That’s awesome, Brian!” I stand back up and start to walk briskly in the direction of Britin.

“Yeah, but I hate hiring people and if I do this, I’m going to need to hire a full staff for the art department. That includes finding someone to head it.”

I’ve turned him down once before, but now things are different with my career. I know exactly what I want out of life and I’m determined to have everything. I don’t have to stop painting to work at Kinnetik; I can do both. “So are you going to pop the question?”

He chuckles and says, “Will you be my partner?”

“On one condition,” I tease him.

“What is it?” he asks, playing along.

“Actually, I’m serious about this.”

“What?”

“I want to do all the extra hiring for the art department.”

“Fine with me,” he states. “Any other demands?”

“Other than you never treating me like you treat the rest of your staff, no.”

“Good, so I guess I should call your Mom.”

“Wait!” I say quickly. “I have another condition.”

“Yes, you can have input on where the new office will be,” he tells me, reading my mind.

“Good. So, I’ll see you when you get home?”

“Yeah, later.”

“Later, Brian.” I flip the phone closed, put it in its designated pouch and start to build up my pace.

We’re building a future together, finally. Life is beautiful!
 

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