The Gus Diaries

Part 81

Birthdays
 

There are some things about my fathers that are hard to understand. Sometimes it’s because they don’t like to talk about themselves too much, and sometimes it’s because shit that happened when they were growing up has changed for the better, but they don’t always recognize it.

One thing that I’ve never really understood is Dad’s attitude towards birthdays, his own in particular.

Last Sunday morning Dad slept extra late. He and Pop had gone out with the uncles to Woody’s and Babylon, so Pop didn’t see any reason to wake him up unnecessarily.

Jeff had slept over, as usual, but this weekend he had the Sunday morning breakfast shift at the diner, so we stayed in on Saturday night. He had to leave at six o’clock in the morning to get there on time.

I woke up with him when the alarm sounded, and then after he left, I decided to stay downstairs. When I made my way into the kitchen, Pop was preparing the coffee to start brewing.

“Morning, Gus.” I don’t know how Pop can always be so damn alert in the morning.

“Hey.” I’m far less enthusiastic.

“I thought you went to sleep early last night.” Pop smiled in my direction. It’s hard to get irritated when he wears that smile.

“Yeah, we got to bed early, but we didn’t fall asleep for a while.” I smirked.

Pop held up his hand. “Enough said. I don’t want to hear anymore. There are some details that parents should not hear.”

I huffed out a small laugh. “It’s a good thing our rooms aren’t next to one another.”

“It’s a good thing indeed. Brian and I made that decision years ago.”

I grinned as he handed me a cup of coffee. “Thanks.”

“For the coffee or the bedroom selection?”

“Both.” Pop nodded and continued to move towards the refrigerator to pull out some eggs and a variety of vegetables.

“How about Spanish omelets for breakfast?” He didn’t wait for my answer and began chopping a red pepper.

“You know you don’t have to cook for me.” I stood up with my coffee in hand and walked to the opposite side of the kitchen island.

“I like cooking, especially for family. It’s one way to show people how much you love them.”

I nodded remembering Dad’s concept of actions speak louder than words. Then I took the green pepper and another knife and began to dice opposite Pop.

“Thank you.” He stopped chopping, looked at me and brushed my cheek softly with his fingertips before going back to his cooking prep. “I love you too, Gus.”

“I know.” We both chopped and sipped our coffees in companionable silence for a minute or two. “Pop, can I ask you something?”

“Sure, you know you can always ask me anything.”

“It’s about Dad.”

“Really? Has he done or said something that bothered you?”

I shook my head. “No, nothing like that. It’s about his birthday.”

Pop put down his knife and placed his hands on the edge of the counter. It looked like he was bracing himself with the added support. “What about his birthday?”

“Why don’t we ever really celebrate it?”

“We celebrate, Gus. I usually bake a cake and we have it with dinner on his birthday, or Grandma Deb makes one of her Betty Crocker specials and presents it to him at the diner.”

“I know that. But whenever it’s your birthday, Dad always makes sure to go all out. He’s constantly concerned that he’ll fuck up your gift and get you something that will upset you. Then he mumbles about learning that lesson years ago.”

Pop blushed slightly. “Your Dad seems to think he still has to make up for some foolish things he did when we were both much younger and very new at learning to handle a relationship.”

“But what about you?”

Pop seemed confused. “What about me?”

“Why don’t you care as much about his birthday?” I took a quick sip of my coffee. “You make a big deal out of everyone else’s birthday, even Jeff’s, but you never do anything big for Dad’s.”

Pop abandoned his chopping entirely, took his coffee to the kitchen table and sat down motioning for me to join him.

After I sat down, we both looked at each other briefly before Pop continued. “Gus, you know what happened to me at my high school prom, right?”

I nodded slowly. “Of course I do. I remember being so shocked, and yet happy and relieved that you’re here with us today.”

Pop smiled. “Thank you. Being with you means the world to me too. But, you see, your Dad hasn’t had the best of luck with birthdays. His thirtieth was just a couple of days before my prom. Despite the fact that I asked him to the prom, he believes that he really showed up that night to recapture his youth since he had reached such an advanced age.”

I snorted. “Even I know that thirty isn’t that old.”

“Thanks for the endorsement, but your father didn’t see it that way back then.”

“But it’s been years, why does he still talk about achievement versus the goddamn calendar? Isn’t celebrating birthdays about the person’s achievements of the previous year and looking forward to more in the coming year?”

“I like how you think, Gus. But it’s not just that -- that particular birthday sealed Brian’s viewpoint about his birthday.”

Now I was the one wearing the confused look on my face.

Pop continued. “You know that the Kinney family wasn’t very loving, even under the best of circumstances.”

“From what Dad says, there weren’t too many good circumstances at all.”

“That’s true.” Pop stood up and looked out the full-length window towards the grounds behind Britin. “I don’t know many details, and several of them were hearsay from Michael, but Brian never really had a birthday worth celebrating -- at least not the way his mother orchestrated them.”

Pop seemed really quiet after that. He finally turned around, and I could see that his eyes were moist with unshed tears. I’m not sure what happened at Dad’s birthdays when he was younger, but I really wanted to know. It was obvious that Pop wouldn’t or couldn’t discuss the details.

“Listen, Pop, Dad’s birthday is in a few weeks. I’d really like to do something special for him. If I don’t involve you too much, will you support me?”

Pop brushed his hand through my frazzled bed-hair. “I’ll do what I can, but there are some things that are hard to get past. I don’t want you disappointed, or even worse, to anger Brian.”

“I’ll take my time and think about what to do -- I promise.”

“Okay.” He put down his cup when he heard Dad walking down the stairs. “Hey, Brian, want a Spanish omelet?”

“Si senor, I’d love one, but I first need a large mug of coffee and your hot lips on mine.” Pop poured a mug for Dad and handed it to him along with the sugar bowl. Then he stood on his tiptoes and kissed Dad on the lips.

Dad licked his lips. “A small, but tasty appetizer.”

As Pop began cooking, I looked at my Dad who had taken a seat at the table and was reading the newspaper. He really did deserve a special day each year, so we could show him how much he was loved. Hell, he deserved more than one, but I’d start small.

The big question was how to do this without hurting him or repeating any mistakes from the past.

After breakfast, I left the room and dawdled before heading upstairs to get dressed.

“Brian, he wants to know why you don’t want to celebrate your birthday.”

“When the fuck did that come up?” Dad sounded pissed off.

“Before you came downstairs. It is only a couple of weeks away.”

“I know the fucking day I was born and you know that I don’t believe in...”

“Celebrating birthdays -- it’s achievement that should be recognized, not getting a year closer to death.” I heard a mug bang on the table and assumed it was Pop’s. “I know the fucking speech by heart. But you must know that our life is much different now than all those years ago.”

“Of course I fucking know. But I have no intention of being reminded about the history of birthdays past.”

“What about celebrating the present -- which I happen to think is fucking fabulous.”

“Justin, you and Gus know how I feel about both of you, but facing my birthday in some fake moment of admiration is bullshit. I learned that over many years until it was ingrained in my psyche.”

“Maybe history can be changed.” Pop’s voice softened.

“You sound like you can make the memories of the past disappear. Nothing will wipe them out.”

“No, nothing will wipe them out, but maybe making newer, better memories will help the older, unpleasant ones fade.”

“It’s too late for me, Sunshine.” It was quiet for a moment, but I heard the distinct sound of the end of a kiss. “I get enough good memories celebrating your birthday and Gus’.”

All conversation ended. Walking upstairs, I was overwhelmed with sadness, thinking that Dad’s past must have really hurt him. I needed to make sure I didn’t do anything for him that would remind him of sadder days.

Asking Dad about his past was out of the question, and it was obvious that Pop was done talking.

Then it came to me -- Uncle Michael. I was suddenly glad to have work after school on Monday.

[TBC]
 

Return to The Gus Diaries