The Gus Diaries

Part 145

Justin's Holiday



 

“Dad, what’s wrong with Pop? Everyone’s talking about it, but no one seems to have the answer.” I stood in the entryway to the kitchen looking on as Dad gazed out the window. I realized he was gazing at Pop. Pop was outside, alone, walking around aimlessly just as he had been for several days during the beginning of my semester break. I continued to talk quietly as Dad had yet to acknowledge me by turning around or speaking. “Jeff stayed upstairs so you and I could talk about this; even he’s noticed how weird Pop’s been acting.”

I had made sure I got downstairs as soon as I heard Pop go out through the kitchen doors. Although Jeff and I have had an amazing vacation, after a great semester in class, on the basketball court, and with each other, there’s been a strange cloud over the entire holiday.

“You have nothing to worry about, Sonny Boy. Justin’ll be fine; he is fine.” It was obvious Dad was avoiding answering my question. He walked over to the counter and started fussing with the automatic coffee maker and then pulled out a frying pan but retrieved no food to put into it.

“Dad, are you sure Pop is fine? He’s not sick again, is he?” The thought that Pop might need brain surgery again had never crossed my mind until that moment.

“NO! Justin’s as healthy as a horse, and he still eats like one. I don’t know where the fuck he puts it.” Dad snorted.

“I guess he’s been working it off in the studio. Have you seen his paintings lately?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Justin always works hard, and he always shows me his work.” Dad picked up the newspaper from the edge of the kitchen island and sat at the table facing the glass doors heading outside. He wasn’t looking at me. I think he was avoiding eye contact.

“You told me you would always be honest with me. Now that Mom is happily settled into the apartment you had built for her in Grandma Deb’s attic, and is doing great at the gallery, she’s noted Pop’s crazy style lately too.” I took a deep breath. “I visited her at the gallery right before our big Christmas dinner to make sure she was really as okay as she sounded. She was great. Her therapy’s really working and it’s obvious she sees things for what they really are, but Pop’s artwork had both of us shocked and worried. You should have seen some of the works waiting to be hung. Mom told me the last time he painted such dark and intense work was after the Babylon bombing.”

I watched as Dad made a fist with part of the newspaper still in hand. “I heard that a couple of those dark paintings were requested by the Warhol Gallery Exhibition next week. It sounds like Justin is expanding his range. There’s nothing for you, or your mother, to be concerned about.” Dad turned the newspaper page, but it was pretty obvious he wasn’t reading it.

“Dad, stop bullshitting me!” I sat opposite him at the table and took the newspaper out of his hand. “Uncle Michael and Uncle Ben have noticed, Grandma Jen and Tucker asked Jeff about Pop since they know he’s been here with me, and Mom found out Grandma Debbie and Grandpa Carl have been concerned as well. We’re not crazy. What the hell are you hiding, Dad?” I hated speaking that way to my father, but I was beginning to panic.

“Why can’t this fucking family ever mind their own business?” Dad scrubbed his hand over his face.

“Pop’s been going through the motions perfectly, but it’s obvious he’s in a lot of pain -- emotional pain. Please don’t keep me in the dark anymore.”

“It’s the time of year. It happens every year, but this year is worse. Justin got some difficult news and he doesn’t know how to deal with it.”

“He is sick! Oh God. He can’t be!” I stood up and started pacing. Dad quickly followed me and placed his hand on my shoulder, turning me around to face him. “Justin is not ill! It’s his good-for-nothing father. Every year Justin tries to make contact with him between Thanksgiving and Christmas. This year the fucker just found out he has prostate cancer and when Justin reached out to that goddamn bastard to offer his support, he turned him away telling him his only son was a little kid Justin’s never been permitted to meet. A kid Justin heard playing in the background while he stood on the cold front porch of Craig Taylor’s house. That shit hasn’t even told his daughter or ex-wife because he sees them as traitors. Justin doesn’t know how to handle this and I don’t know how to help him.” Dad ran his fingers through his hair and lowered his head.

Shit! Poor Pop. “How can his father turn away from Pop? He’s the nicest guy to ever walk the planet!”

Dad rolled his lips inward and nodded. “There are some parents who don’t understand the concept of unconditional love. Craig Taylor is a prime example.”

Standing up straight, I looked directly at Dad. “I know you and Pop didn’t have fathers who showed you that kind of love. I’m not sure I ever thanked you for making sure I had two dads that showed me they loved me no matter how much I screwed up.”

Lowering his eyes and then raising them to meet mine, I spotted small glimmers of moisture at the edges. “You know, Gus, I couldn’t love you more if I tried, and Justin feels the same way. He’s as much a father to you as if it’d been his sperm in the old turkey baster.”

I chuckled. “No news there, Dad.” It suddenly dawned on me that Pop needed to get some serious unconditional love from me. While everyone else was murmuring about what might be bothering him, I now knew and was going to make sure he had all the love he deserved... from his son.

[TBC]

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