The Gus Diaries

Part 107

A Gift

It seemed to take forever for Thursday to get here.  All I wanted was to see Jeff.  In the meantime, Dad and Pop were getting edgy about Mom’s visit and the promised gift.  Thursday morning was the worst. 

“Brian, you gave your entire staff the day off.  Remember -- one last day for them to fill the coffers that pay for the advertising budgets.”

“I didn’t know you were taking down every word I ever said verbatim.  Am I being bugged or do you just have a memory like an elephant?”

“Is that a crack about my ass?  I haven’t gained an ounce... and my butt is my finest asset -- or so you’ve said.”

At that point I decided I’d had enough.  “Hey!  What the hell are you two fighting about?  You sound like me and Jenny... five years ago.”

Pop turned away to start the coffee and Dad put down the newspaper he wasn’t really reading.  He walked up behind Pop, resting his hands on his hips and started to nuzzle his neck, just behind his ear.  “Justin, I’m sorry.  It’s just...”

“I know, I’m getting so damn stressed about her visit too.  I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

“Well, I’ve been taking it out on your ass every night.”

Pop snorted.  “Not that I minded.  It was an amazing distraction.”

“TMI!  I’m still in the room.”  Those guys have a better sex life than anyone I know... including me!

Dad gently turned Pop around and the two kissed more tenderly than I’d seen all week.  It was actually kind of nice to see them this way. 

“I love you, Brian, and I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“Has she given you any clues about this gift when you’ve seen her at work?”

“Not a one -- and it’s not for lack of trying.”

Dad looked at me while still holding Pop in his arms.  “Are you sure your mother didn’t give you any hints as to what she’s bringing over tonight?”

“Not one.”  I started daydreaming about Jeff and having him hold me all night; probably in the same way Dad holds Pop.

“Sonny Boy, are you alright?”

“Fine, Dad.”

Pop poured three cups of coffee and brought them to the table.  “Are you nervous about your mom’s visit?”

I shook my head.  “Not really.”

Pop, Dad, and I were silent as we fixed our coffees how we each liked them.

“Holy shit!”

“What is it, Brian?”

“Gus isn’t concerned about his mom; he’s playing the same game you played when you were seventeen.”

Pop look baffled and then started to laugh.  “Are you imagining you and Jeff together tonight... after your mother leaves?”

I could feel the redness creeping up my cheeks.  “Maybe.”

“Justin, you’ve taught our son to be the best romantic he can possibly be.”  Dad faked a grimace, but it quickly turned into a grin.

“Fuck you.  We both know he’s his own person.  If he happened to pick up some of my better qualities, who gives a shit.”

“I happen to cherish your better qualities -- as often as I possibly can.”

“Oh my God; can you two ever stop talking about your sex life.  I may be scarred for life.”

“Never going to happen, Sonny Boy.  Our sex life is something to be admired; you should be so lucky.”

I rolled my eyes, but knew Dad was right.  He and Pop were made for each other, and I do hope Jeff and I can have the kind of love they share.

Pop started scrambling eggs for breakfast.  “So what time is Jeff due here tonight?”

“Probably around the same time as Mom.  He promised Grandma Jen and Tucker he’d have dinner with them first to celebrate making Dean’s List his first semester.”

“We’ll have to celebrate too while he’s with us.  It’s not easy to get good grades with all his other commitments.”

“And me.”

“You, Gus, are his pleasure, not his commitment.”

“Thanks, Pop.  He says that too, but I sometimes worry about being too much of a distraction.”

Dad chimed in, “You’re the kind of distraction that relaxes him.  Don’t fix something that isn’t broken.”

Pop laughed.

“What’s so funny, Sunshine?”

“Your advice.  We would have had it so much easier if you’d stuck with the same philosophy when we were younger.”

“But wasn’t I worth the challenge?”

Pop brought the plates of eggs and toast to the table.  “Absolutely.”  The two kissed again before we all enjoyed a hearty breakfast.

Pop had closed the gallery for the long Christmas weekend and was planning to paint for a few hours in his home studio.

Dad was heading into Kinnetik for a couple of hours to tie up some loose ends, but he’d promised to be home soon after lunch time.

I was planning a quiet day watching movies, getting some more sleep, and looking forward to Jeff’s arrival.

All of us were thinking about Mom’s gift, but none of us wanted to dwell on the unknown.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Dinner was great.  Despite Dad’s complaints about fat and carbs we had big juicy hamburgers on sourdough bread.  It was delicious and Dad emptied his plate.

We decided to wait on dessert until Mom arrived.  We didn’t have to wait long before the doorbell rang.

I ran to get it while Pop and Dad hugged and kissed one more time, supporting each other.

“Hey, Newbie, you look amazing.”  Jeff stepped in, put his bags off to the side, grabbed and lifted me, and swung me around. 

When he put me down we started kissing.  We hadn’t seen each other in two weeks due to Jeff’s practice and final exam schedules.

Tangling his fingers in my hair, he held me close.  Our kisses were hungrier and hotter than I’d expected.  I didn’t want to ever let go.  Gripping his back I pulled him in closer than I would’ve thought possible. 

When he pressed his tongue past my lips, I moaned, tasting him, needing him more than I’d realized.

“Gus, break it up.  Do you want your mother to come over and see you and your boyfriend sporting matching hard-ons?”

“Fuck!”

“Nice, Brian.”  Pop nudged Dad.  “And you say he takes after me -- I’d say it’s about even.”

Jeff laughed, and we separated, albeit unwillingly.  “I’ll bring my stuff up to your room and come back down, if that’s okay?”

“Jeff, you’re a member of this family; of course it’s okay.”  I love when Dad says shit like that. 

Before I could close the door, Mom stepped over the threshold carrying two boxes.  “Hi, everyone.  I hope I’m not intruding.”

“Me neither.  I drove, but I’d hate to wait in the car; it’s freezing out there.”

I watched the two walk in, but didn’t recognize the man with Mom.

“Mr. Auerbach, it’s been a long time.”  Pop shook the man’s hand.

“It’s Sam to all of you.  Mr. Auerbach sounds like my father, and the only thing he ever painted was a dog house.”

Sam -- this was the guy Mom mentioned earlier in the week.  “Do you and Dad know Sam?”

Pop put his arm around me.  “Sam Auerbach is a famous artist.  Several of his pieces hang in the MoMA.”

“No kidding.”

Dad smirked.  “No kidding.  And here’s another tidbit about the famous artist -- the first time he met your mother--”

“Brian!”

“What, Lindsay?”  Dad pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek.  “I was just going to tell the lad how you were the only one in the Pitts to get him to show his art in a private gallery.”

Pop whispered, “Sure you were.  Behave.”

I wasn’t sure what that was all about, but I had a feeling it wasn’t necessarily something I’d want to know.

Jeff plodded down the steps two at a time. 

“Hey.”  I put my arm around Jeff’s waist and drew him close; he returned the action. 

“You know my mom.”

“Sure.  Hi, Ms. Peterson.”

“It’s Lindsay.”

“Thank you.”

“And this is her friend, Sam Auerbach.”

“I just studied about a Sam Auerbach in my Modern American Art class.  You wouldn’t be him.”

“I would be, but don’t tell anyone -- it makes me sound a shit-load older than I am.”

“Wow, you’re supposed to be some kind of artistic genius with modern cubism.”

“That I am.”

Pop snickered.  “And he’s incredibly modest.”

“Nothing comes from false modesty.  You should know that -- the famous Justin Taylor.”

Pop blushed. 

Dad squeezed Pop’s shoulder.  “Let’s head into the living room.  I have a fire going.”

It was a beautiful night and everyone seemed relaxed until Mom handed Dad the first of the two boxes.  “Brian, Justin, these aren’t really Christmas gifts.  They’re my way of hoping to give back some of what I took away over the years.  It may not be enough, but I’d like to think it’s taking a step in the right direction.”

The first box was pretty large. 

Pop and Dad started removing a series of framed sketches.

“They’re numbered on the back.  Each was drawn as Gus opened gifts you’d sent him for birthdays, Christmases, or just for pleasure.  These are times you missed out on and shouldn’t have.”

I watched as Dad touched the drawings, ghosting his fingers over my expressions of joy at opening each package sent specially by my fathers.

Pop left the room and returned with a small box of tissues.  He kept dabbing his eyes as he drew each sketch from the box, lining them up on the coffee table.

No one knew what to say until Sam broke the silence.  “I always knew when Lindsay focused on a subject she was truly moved by she could express the depth of feeling through her art.  Young man, your mother clearly was enamored with you and all you represented to her.”

When all the sketches were laid out in a row I looked at Dad.  He seemed a bit pale.  Pop took his hand.  “Brian.”

“I know.  It’s almost as good as seeing him.  Fuck, I missed so much -- we missed so much.”

The two of them sat together, staring silently, holding hands.

“Here’s the other part of the gift.”  Mom handed them a small box.

Dad opened it and took out a DVD. 

“Melanie was always videotaping everything in the kids’ lives.  I didn’t send copies to you -- it was selfish of me; I know that now.  I took all the videos to a specialist -- he takes videos, edits them and then rerecords them onto DVD’s.  These are all those moments...”  Mom pointed at the sketches.  “... and more.”

Dad silently stood and walked to the media room, with all of us following close behind.  He put the DVD in the player, turned on the TV, and sat on the sofa, keeping Pop close to him. 

It was all my years in Canada.  From the first day of Kindergarten, to playing in the park, to my final day as I left to move in with Dad and Pop.

On a couple of occasions Mem captured me saying, “Daddy, I love you.  I wish you and Justin were here with me.” 

Mom had brought the tissues to the media room and it was a good thing.  Dad silently sat and watched.  No one dared to say a word.

When the final visual was completed he stood up, Pop at his side, and approached Mom.  “Thank you.”

They left the room and I heard them both go upstairs.

Mom and Sam stood.  She gave me a hug and Sam shook my hand and Jeff’s.  As they opened the front door Mom looked toward the stairway.  “You’re welcome, Brian.  It was the least I could do -- finally.”

Jeff took my hand after we locked the door.  He guided me up the stairs.  Dad and Pop’s bedroom door was slightly ajar.

“He always knew you loved him.”

“You too, Sunshine, you too.”

“I know.”

“We missed so much.  We’ll never get it back.  I want to hate her.”

“I know.  But you can’t.”

Jeff and I walked quietly to my bedroom and closed the door.  I needed him more than ever.  I loved my Mom, hated her, and wanted to love her again.
 

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