The Gus Diaries

Part 63

Compassion II
 

It had been several days since my cousin-in-name-only had contacted Dad. Pop tried to keep him calm, but Dad was pacing more and losing his temper about everything. I tried to keep my distance, but even in a house as big as ours, it was hard with all of us living under one roof. Despite the size of Britin, when it was just the three of us, we basically stayed in just a few rooms of the house.

During the past few days, I spent more time in my room than I normally would. When Jeff came over during the weekend he sensed the tension immediately. I had already shared the story of Claire and John; how they falsely accused my dad of molesting John all those years ago and now wanted money to help cover the costs of quality care for Claire’s cancer treatments.

“Look, Gus, you can’t fix everything.”

“I know. That doesn’t mean I don’t wish I could do something to make things easier for Dad.”

“Easier -- by locking yourself in your room whenever you’re home and studying your ass off? You already get great grades in all your classes.”

“Except math.”

Jeff rolled his eyes, “Except math. And you did a fucking amazing job on your PSATs.”

“Thanks to you.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Newbie. This kind of attitude isn’t like you.”

Jeff walked over to me as I sat on the desk chair in my bedroom. He put his arms around me from behind and leaned down to kiss my neck. I turned slightly to look at him and could see the concern on his face. Then, he leaned down and kissed me solidly on the lips.

I smiled at him and our foreheads touched automatically. At that moment, I realized just how often I’d seen the same gesture between my dads. It was a sign of their love and support. It worked now for Jeff and me.

“I’ll try not to be such a drama queen.”

Jeff laughed, “I’m not looking for miracles.” He got a swat on the arm for that. “I just want you to understand that you may not be able to help.”

“That’s the worst part. If my aunt dies, Dad will go ballistic. He’ll blame himself.”

“What the fuck for?”

“Because that’s what Dad does. Not to mention, my fucking cousin told him that one of the people she breathed in all that second hand smoke from was him.”

“How the hell does she figure that? Didn’t you tell me she moved out when she got pregnant right after high school?”

“Hey, that’s right. I doubt Dad was smoking in his house at the age of fifteen. I know I wouldn’t dare, and from what I heard, Dad’s mother was a religious witch who certainly wouldn’t have allowed it, or stood for it if she smelled that shit on him or in her house.”

“See, Newbie, the only thing your Dad should be guilty of is staying clear of his sister after she accused him of a crime he didn’t commit -- and a fucking huge crime at that.” Laying it out like that, Jeff helped me realize Dad did exactly what he had to do -- he did nothing wrong and had nothing to feel guilty about.

“Maybe I should point that out to Dad.” I started to get up from the chair and Jeff put his hands on my shoulders to nudge me back in.

“I’d hold that thought for another day. Right now, you should probably just go with the flow and keep that ammunition locked up. Use it if you need it, but don’t bring it up while your dad is already stressing out.”

“You’re right.” This time, I stood up and gave Jeff a hug and kiss. We held each other close. I was tempted to let things go further, but I knew we’d be called down for dinner. “Let’s go downstairs and see if we can help Pop in the kitchen.”

As we approached, we heard Pop using a firm voice. “Make the fucking call already. You’re driving all of us insane.”

“Don’t tell me what the fuck to do. I’ll make the call when, and if, I want to. I don’t need anybody telling me how to deal with...”

“The fuck you don’t. You’ve been walking around for three days snapping at everything anyone does. Our son barely leaves his room, and when he does he keeps his mouth shut so as not to get the attention of your misdirected anger.”

“That’s a goddamned exaggeration.”

“Is it? Think about it, Brian. Think back over the past few days since your ungrateful, asshole of a nephew called. Think about any interactions you’ve had with either Gus or me.”

There was quiet in the kitchen. All I could hear was Pop stirring something that I assumed was part of dinner. It smelled like his stew, which I love on cold nights. He told me it was a recipe he’d originally gotten from Grandma Deb, but adjusted to lower the fat content.

Then I heard pacing and could easily imagine that it was Dad. “Okay.”

“Okay, what?”

“Okay, I’ll call... now.”

“Here’s the phone and here’s Claire’s number. Why don’t you invite her over here? If you’d like, you can ask her over for dinner.”

Jeff and I moved forward and entered the kitchen, not saying a word.

Dad was holding the phone, but obviously hadn’t dialed yet. He looked at us when we walked in. “Is he here again?”

“Brian!”

“Dad!” Pop and I both yelled simultaneously.

Jeff stayed silent. It was as if he understood more than either me or Pop that Dad didn’t really mean what he said. I was just so shocked and hurt.

“Shit!” Dad brushed his hand over his face. “I’m sorry, Jeff. You know you’re always welcome here. Fuck, I’d be surprised and concerned if you weren’t here so much.” Dad tried to smile, but it was a minimal effort.

“That’s okay, Mr. Ki... Brian. I can tell you’re upset.”

“I’m not ups...” Dad looked at Pop and held up the phone in one hand and a paper that must have had the number on it in the other. “Calling now.”

“Good.”

He punched some numbers into the phone and waited. The rest of us started silently going about preparing the rest of dinner and setting the table.

“Claire, Brian.”

“I know you’re not feeling well. Your eldest spawn called me with all the good news.” Dad’s voice was dripping was sarcasm, tempered by obvious discomfort.

“You know why I haven’t called all these years. It’s the same reason you didn’t. Our last interaction seemed to close the casket on any chance that we might want to have contact.”

“Yes, we could have gotten together after Joan’s funeral, but what would have been the point?”

It was quiet for a while as Dad listened.

“Look, can you come out to our house? I can send a car for you. Kinnetik has a couple of company cars and drivers for clients. I’ll arrange for one to pick you up.”

“Yes, I know you live in our old house, although why the fuck you’d want to, I have no idea. It’s like growing up in an insane asylum and once you got out, wanting to move back in, but it’s your choice.”

“Fine, Tuesday night I’ll have the car pick you up at seven o’clock.”

Dad disconnected and put the phone back on its cradle in the corner of the kitchen counter.

“That’s done. Justin, we’ll be having a fourth for dinner on Tuesday.” Dad paused and looked in Jeff’s direction, “That is unless you’d like to join us, then we’ll have a fifth -- which is what I could use right now.”

“After practice, I have to work the dinner shift at the diner on Tuesday. Thanks for asking but I won’t be able to come over.”

“Well, Sunshine, can we have dinner now, or is there something else I need to do?”

Pop stopped stirring the stew, turned off the oven and walked over to Dad. “I’d say you’ve done just the right amount for this evening. I’ll take care of everything from here.” He clasped his hands behind Dad’s neck and pulled him in for a tender kiss.

Dad touched Pop’s cheek and then kissed it gently. “Then let’s eat.”

While Dad was clearly still very uptight about the meeting, at least Pop and I knew that it would all be over in just a few days.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
 

On Tuesday, Dad and Pop each took their own cars into work. Pop was going to leave a little early to get home and start dinner and Dad would stay in town to pick me up from practice. Practice ended at 5:30 PM, which gave us plenty of time to get to Britin.

We drove silently for a while and then Dad asked how my school day was and other bullshit. He might as well have been talking about the weather.

“Dad, are you nervous about seeing your sister?”

“What makes you say that, Sonny Boy?”

“Well, you’re talking about things that you’d never talk about unless I’d told you that I had a test or a big paper I was getting back.”

“Am I?”

“Yeah, you are, and it’s kind of creeping me out.”

“I didn’t mean to do that.”

“I know, Dad, but can you just tell me something?”

“You mean about Claire?”

“I mean about how you feel about seeing her after all this time. From what you told me, you didn’t even approach her at your mother’s funeral.”

“That’s right. I stayed in the background and as soon as the service was over, Pop and I left through a side door. We kept our distance at the cemetery and left there without speaking to anyone either.”

“How do you feel about seeing her tonight?”

“You sound more and more like Justin everyday.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Dad laughed, “I guess you should. I wouldn’t have you or Justin any other way.” I remained silent, hoping he’d say something. It was another minute or two before he spoke. “Gus, I don’t like the fact that Claire is sick and might be dying. I don’t like the fact that she didn’t tell me, and most of all, I don’t like the fact that after hurting me so much by demonstrating such a lack of trust in me, she is now coming to me for help.”

That was a lot for Dad to admit. I wasn’t sure what to say. Finally, I decided to be honest. “That’s a lot to deal with.”

“It is, but Justin will help.”

“Pop always helps, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, he does -- and don’t forget that.”

We pulled into the garage and immediately went into the house. Dad went upstairs to take a quick shower and change into more casual clothes. I’d showered and changed after practice so I was ready to help Pop in the kitchen and dining room.

Seven o’clock came quickly and by seven-thirty we heard a knock at the door.

Pop opened it to find Claire and an average height young man with her.

“Hello, Claire.”

“Hello... Justin, right?”

“That’s right. Please come in.” Pop took their coats and hung them on the nearby coat rack. Then he looked at Claire, “Who might this be?”

“I’m sorry, that’s right, you never met Peter.”

“No, I only had the misfortune to meet John.” There was a venom in Pop’s voice that surprised me.

“I wouldn’t bring him here.” Pop nodded. “This is my younger son, Peter.”

Then Pop introduced me to the pair.

“He’s the spitting image of Brian.” Claire stared at me for a moment longer.

“Yes, he is. Why don’t you come into the living room and have a seat. Can I get either of you something to drink?”

Before they could answer, Dad walked into the room. “Well, if it isn’t my loving and ever supportive sister and her junior spawn.” To say that Dad wasn’t giving them a warm welcome would be an understatement.

“Hello, Brian.”

My aunt said nothing further, but Peter walked up to Dad and put out his hand as if to encourage Dad to shake it. “Hello, Uncle Brian. I haven’t seen you since the last time I was in your loft. I think I was about ten.”

Dad surprised me by looking at Peter and taking his hand to shake it, albeit hesitantly. “You’ve changed quite a bit since then.”

“I should hope so. I’m twenty-three.”

“So it would seem.” Pop discreetly brought over a pitcher of water with some glasses and set them on the coffee table. He then stepped back and sat on the sofa. “My husband has an excellent idea. Why don’t we all sit down?”

I sat next to Pop, more for security than anything else, and Dad sat on my other side, taking up the remainder of the sofa. Peter and Aunt Claire sat on the two armchairs that were directly opposite. It was as if we were having a family face-off.

Aunt Claire finally found her voice again, “I’m not sure what John told you, but I’m not at death’s door -- at least not yet.”

“Mom,” Peter warned.

“It’s okay, Peter, I want to tell your uncle everything.”

“I do have lung cancer. It was spotted on an x-ray after I had gone to the doctor, complaining of some discomfort and a chronic cough. Not being a smoker, he thought I might have pneumonia.”

Dad didn’t say a word. He just nodded and I sat totally still. Pop, on the other hand, was wringing his hands together. It was as if he forgot he didn’t have a problem with his right hand anymore and was massaging it the way he used to when it would cramp.

“Anyway, to make a long story short...”

“I wish you would,” Dad interjected.

Aunt Claire glared at him. “To make a long story short, I do have lung cancer and I do have to start treatments soon. I’ll have surgery first to remove whatever they can and then chemo and radiation. I hate the thought but I have no choice.”

“We all have choices.”

Aunt Claire looked at Dad again, “I’m choosing not to die.”

“Wise choice, especially since you obviously have one son with some class.”

“I’m sorry John made it all sound so dramatic. I didn’t ask him to call you.”

“Then why did he?”

“Because to handle all the co-pays and expenses beyond my mediocre insurance from work, I’ll have to sell the house and move into a small apartment.”

“And I’m involved in this because...”

“You’re not. As I said, I didn’t ask him to call you.”

“Maybe if you’d asked him to call me and apologize, with you stepping up first as his example, I might give a shit now.”

Pop automatically whispered, “Brian.”

Dad turned to Pop. “It’s okay, Sunshine. She needs to hear this if she wants any contact with me ever again. As it is, I thought I washed my hands of the entire Kinney clan years ago. And here they are in my living room. You might say, very Dickensian.” Pop smirked, but I had no idea why. I just decided that the less attention I drew to myself, the better.

“Uncle Brian...”

“No, Peter, whatever you do, don’t answer for your mother or brother.”

“I wasn’t going to.” Dad nodded. “I was going to say that when I found out a couple of years later why we didn’t see you anymore, I was fucking pissed off at John. He was a dick as a kid and he can be an even bigger one as an adult.”

“Having a big dick is not a problem, but being one won’t get him anywhere.”

Peter and Pop both laughed while I could see Aunt Claire recoiling a bit from the direction of the discussion. I kept my laughs to myself.

“Look, Uncle Brian, for whatever fucked up reason, John called and we’re here. Can we at least try to get along?”

“I like your style, kid, but I can do without the rest of your family.”

“They’re your family, too.”

“No, they’re not. Not since that day, not since your mother refused to talk to me before calling the fucking police. Not since she allowed our homophobic mother to cloud her formerly mediocre judgment and turn her into a Joan clone.”

Aunt Claire whispered, “I’m sorry, Brian. I should have trusted you. There was a reason I left John with you and not some stranger, or even brought him with me. I trusted you, and I didn’t remember that through my shock and concern over John’s accusations.”

“Maybe if you’d noticed the pain I was in,” Dad choked and stopped talking entirely. He got up and walked to the bar and poured a shot of Chivas into a glass and drank it in one gulp.

Pop walked up behind him and put his hands around his waist and held Dad from behind. Pop rested his head on Dad’s back and then kissed the back of his neck gently. Dad put the glass down. He took Pop’s hands in his and they were still for a moment. Then Dad turned around in Pop’s arms and looked at him. Pop raised one hand and gently brushed Dad’s hair off his forehead and rubbed his thumb across Dad’s cheek. “You okay?”

Dad nodded and kissed Pop tenderly. “Yes, now I am. Thank you.”

“You never need to thank me for loving you and knowing you.” Dad nodded again and they returned to the sofa, arm in arm. I automatically moved to the far end so they could sit down together.

“Brian, what John did was wrong, but what I did was worse. I am really sorry.”

Dad nodded again. “Are you going to be okay or do you need extra money for some advanced medical treatments?”

“No, I really am expected to be okay. There’s never any guarantee, but the doctor feels like I have a very good chance for a full recovery. After all, I’m not that old and they think they found the cancer fairly early.”

“Good.” Dad was speaking in an almost clinical fashion. “So, how much do you need for the treatments?”

“I don’t need or want anything. I want to sell the house. I’ve held onto it for too long. It’s even given John license to be lazy and live with me whenever he’s been between jobs.”

“Are you giving him money?”

“I did for a while, but I can’t anymore. Now, he has to work and I won’t take no for an answer.”

“Congratulations on developing some backbone.”

“It took long enough, but I’m getting there.” Aunt Claire paused and looked directly at Dad. “I don’t know what he told you, but John can be lazy. This may have been his way of thinking we would keep the house and he’d continue to have a place to freeload when unemployed.”

“If you really do need money -- I mean for treatment...”

“I’ll ask. In the meantime, Peter has a big apartment with two bedrooms. I can stay with him after the house sells and during my treatments.”

“My girlfriend and I can keep an eye on her if the treatments make Mom sick.”

Dad interjected under his breath, “They will.”

“And then when she’s feeling better, we can help her find an apartment nearby.”

“You have a level head.”

“I take after my Uncle.”

“Don’t butter me up.”

“I have no need to. I’m not in advertising and I make enough money to be comfortable.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a teacher. I work at Allegheny High in the science department and I coach basketball.”

That opened my eyes pretty fast. “You coach basketball?”

“Yes. And rumor has it that a certain Gus Taylor Kinney and his boyfriend, Jeff Martin, are the stars of the best team in the area. I wondered if I was related to you.”

Dad smiled, “Only by blood.”

Pop seemed to relax as the evening wore on and the tone changed. “Is anyone hungry? I have dinner warming and ready to go when we are.”

Nods all around indicated we were ready to eat.

Dad seemed comfortable talking with Peter, as did I, and I noticed Aunt Claire smile once or twice.

While I still don’t know much about her, she didn’t seem half bad, but I decided not to get too attached in case Dad didn’t want them in his life. It was strange to think about that. I couldn’t imagine my life without Jenny, and Pop and Molly always talk on the phone and get together for lunch in Pittsburgh on a regular basis. Hell, they own a company together.

I wondered if now that Aunt Claire apologized, and Dad met my cousin, Peter, who seemed like a pretty nice guy, if we would see more of them.

As the evening drew to a close, Dad began to walk Aunt Claire toward the door to help her with her jacket. “Are you sure you don’t need any money? I can write you a check.”

“No, Brian, no money.” Then she sucked in her cheeks a bit and let out a breath, “But I would like to know you’ll visit me in the hospital. I’m scared and I don’t have any parents or a husband to hold my hand and tell me I’m going to be okay.”

I noticed Dad’s eyes moisten and he nodded. “I’ll be there. I fucking hate hospitals, but I’ll be there.”

I hadn’t noticed, but Pop was standing next to me, just as enthralled in the moment as I was.

“Come on, Mom, we should get home. It’s getting late.” He shook Dad’s hand and this time there was no hesitation on either man’s part. Then Aunt Claire hugged Dad, Pop and me, and kissed each of us on the cheek as she walked out the door.

After they left, Pop locked the door and set the alarm. “It’s strange how getting sick can bring people together. For some it ends up being positive and for some, like Craig, it just doesn’t make a fucking difference.”

Dad held Pop in his arms and guided him to the stairs. “Goodnight, Sonny Boy.”

“Goodnight, Dad, Pop.”

Pop didn’t answer, his shoulders were shaking a bit and I had a feeling he felt the pain of complete rejection by his father all over again. I guess there’s no rhyme or reason as to which families can fix their problems, or at least get past them, and which can’t.

Jeff and his parents; Pop and his father; Dad and his sister; me and my Mom.

I think maybe it’s time for me to try to see Mom alone again -- if she’s still interested.
 

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