The Gus Diaries

Part 82

Birthdays Past
 

I couldn’t stop thinking about all the things that might have happened to Dad when he was a kid, to make him hate celebrating his birthday so much. It’s not like I live in a fucking vacuum. I know about child abuse, and I remember Dad telling me little bits about his parents.

It’s funny, whenever he talked about Jack or Joan Kinney, he never called them his parents, and he certainly never referred to them as my grandparents.

Dad told me that Jack Kinney met me once when Mom and I were visiting. I was just a baby back then. He admitted that his father seemed to take a liking to me, but that was the only time we were ever together.

The strangest thing is that since I lived so much of my life in Canada, I never met Joan Kinney. When I came for my summers with Dad and Pop, the idea of visiting her or even introducing her to me was never broached.

It makes me wonder what they were really like.

Last Monday after school, as we were walking to Jeff’s car, I told him my plan to get some information from Uncle Michael.

“Why the fuck do you want to upset your dad?”

“I don’t want to upset him. I want to show him how much I love him and that he can celebrate his birthday and have it be a happy experience.”

“That sounds all hunky dory, Gus, but you’d better be careful. You don’t want to do something that’ll piss him off.”

“I’m not a moron.” I rolled my eyes. “Of course, I don’t want to freak out my dad and do something that’ll have him running from the event.”

“I just think there are some things you can’t fix, and you’re not willing to face that fact.”

We tossed our backpacks in the back of the Jeep and then sat down inside.

“It’s not like I’m trying to make the impossible happen. I only try to do what I can for the people I love.” I looked directly into Jeff’s eyes, hoping he understood my message.

He looked at me and leaned over the center console to give me a warm and loving kiss. “I know, Newbie. I recall seeing my mother at a basketball game or two thanks to you.”

I smiled, glad that he remembered how well that worked out.

He kissed me again, much more ardently. I could feel my cock getting hard. “But I have a feeling that this time you’re trying to solve something tougher than bringing my dad and me back together. We both know how that would end up.”

I brushed my hand across his cheek. He turned his head to softly kiss the palm. “That’s just it -- I know that’s impossible, but I think this is different. I just have to go at it from the right angle.”

“Okay, whatever you say, Gus.” Then he placed his hand over my cock. My pants grew painfully tight, restricting my lengthening dick.

“Shit! Do something, anything.” I can get demanding when my hormones take over.

Jeff laughed. “My pleasure.” He slowly unzipped my pants and pulled down my briefs, blissfully releasing my reddened member.

He spit on his hand and started to rub up and down my cock. It felt so good. But then he pulled his hand away and I moaned with disappointment.

“Shhh, Newbie, patience.” He unzipped his own pants and released his dick, already hard and darker than mine. I couldn’t help but lick my lips.

Without warning, Jeff put his hand back on my dick, the other hand vigorously pumping his own cock. Then he bent his head over, removed his hand from my painfully hard erection and began to suck it like he never had before.

My head fell back against the top of the passenger seat. I was lost in the feeling of the most incredible blow job. It didn’t take long before I cried out and shot into Jeff’s throat.

After I took a moment to catch my breath, I saw him continuing to work his own cock. I just couldn’t leave him hanging, so to speak, I dove down, brushing away his hand and immediately deep throated him.

“Ahhh, fuck, God almighty!” That did it. He arched up and immediately came in my mouth. It was so hot and tasty. I swallowed every drop, proud of how fast I got him off.

I sat up and licked the remaining drops off my lips and smirked.

“That was so fucking amazing -- you really got me by surprise.”

“See, Jeff, some surprises are definitely worth the effort.” Apparently my analogy didn’t impress him since he just snorted, rolled his eyes and started the engine.

“Okay, so maybe that was lame, but I did give you a good surprise.”

“You sure as shit did.” He started driving towards Red Cape Comics. “Just be careful. You and your dad have a great relationship. I’d hate to see anything fuck it up.”

“I know, and I will be careful... and, Jeff, thanks for caring.”

He nodded and continued to drive straight to Liberty Avenue.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
 

When I arrived at the store, Uncle Michael was busy helping two customers with a huge sale, so I went straight to the employee room in the back and dropped off my backpack and messenger bag.

I immediately came out when I heard the door chime ring several times in a row.

“Wow, Uncle Michael, what’s up today?”

“The new Spiderman was just released. It’s a double issue.”

“Make sure you save one for yourself and Jenny. She loves that comic.” He laughed and pointed to a small stack set aside behind the counter.

We both continually worked for the next hour and a half. These people are hungrier for their comics than my dad is for Armani or Prada. It was insane.

When we sold the last remaining copy in the store, Uncle Michael put a sign in the window, stating we were sold out but would have more the next day.

It wasn’t long after that when the shop began to calm down. I was hoping I’d get a chance to talk with Uncle Michael before Dad and Pop picked me up from work.

Soon the last customer left and the sign seemed to deter all future entrants. I finally took my window of opportunity.

I walked up to the counter while Uncle Michael was happily counting the contents of the register. “Can I ask you a question?”

He continued to count. “Sure, Gus, what’s up? Do you want a Spiderman for yourself? I have enough set aside.”

I laughed. “No, thank you. That huge box of Rage comics will keep me busy until I’m thirty.”

He huffed. “So what do you need?”

“Actually,” I started rubbing my fingers along the edge of the counter, “I need some information.”

“Sure, about what?”

“It’s about birthdays.”

“One of my favorite topics.” He continued to talk without taking a breath. “Did I ever tell you about the time I baked a cake for Hunter’s first birthday with us? What a lopsided disaster that was -- but Emmett came in and saved the cake.” He banded the bills in $100 bunches as he spoke.

“I was interested in Dad’s birthdays and why he’s so against celebrating them.”

Uncle Michael dropped the stack of twenties he was counting and fumbled to keep them from falling to the floor. He said nothing, but placed all the bills back in the cash drawer and closed the register. Then he went to the front door of the store, stepped outside looking right and left, came back in and locked it, turning the sign to read, Closed, Please Come Again.

“Come sit down, Gus.”

Uh oh, I wasn’t too pleased with his tone of voice. It made me kind of nervous. I said nothing and just sat in the chair he pointed to as he dragged another one over and sat opposite me.

“Why do you want to know about Brian’s birthdays?”

“Well, he’s my dad and I love him. I want to be able to do something special for him, but Pop said that Dad hates celebrating his birthday, even though he does special birthday shit for Pop and me, and well... everyone else.”

Uncle Michael nodded.

He remained silent for over a minute and I started to feel the hair rise on the back of my neck. This couldn’t be good. Uncle Michael is always willing to talk openly about everything.

Finally, when he began to speak, I could tell he was choosing his words very cautiously. “You know, Gus, that Brian didn’t have the greatest relationship with his parents.”

“I know.”

“You see, I didn’t meet him until we were fourteen and by then he’d already been through a lot with them.”

“By a lot I guess you mean that his father roughed him up when he was drunk, which was more often than not, and his mother was always praying or drunk enough not to help or notice.”

Uncle Michael’s eyes widened. “You do know what I mean.”

I nodded. “But, Uncle Michael, even some of the worst, abusive families I’ve learned about in school still have some happy times, especially around birthdays and shit like that. Didn’t Dad have some of those?”

“You know, it’s funny you should say that.” Uncle Michael stopped looking at me. His eyes had a far-off look. “I remember him once telling me about his thirteenth birthday. He was really excited because his sister, Claire, told him that their parents were actually going to give him what he wanted most -- a new soccer ball, a uniform and cleats.”

I remained silent so he’d continue.

“Brian made sure he stayed on his best behavior the whole week. It seemed in the past, whenever his birthday approached, he would do something wrong in his parents’ eyes, and they’d show him his gifts, take them away and return them to the stores. He didn’t want to fuck up that year.”

“So what happened?”

Uncle Michael swallowed hard, like he had a golf ball stuck in his throat. “You know the only other person who knows this, besides me and my mom, is Justin. It’s one of the reasons that made me realize just how much your dad loves him -- he trusted him with this memory.”

I began to wonder if I’d made a mistake asking to hear all this, but I didn’t stop Uncle Michael from continuing the story.

“Anyway, on his birthday he smelled a cake his mother was baking, and he saw the wrapped gifts on the dining room table. He was so excited but he remained cool, as always. Everything was going like clockwork -- that is until his father came home from work. Apparently, on that day another man was promoted to foreman at the plant where Jack Kinney worked. He’d been in line for the job, but because he’d shown up smelling like alcohol one too many times, he was passed over.”

“Shit!”

“Shit is right. He came into the house, plastered to the fucking gills. Brian watched as his father grabbed the gifts, yelling something about not being able to afford spoiling his ungrateful son and threw them in his car, to return to the store the next day.”

I could feel my eyes filling with tears and would have felt stupid if they hadn’t matched those slowly washing down Uncle Michael’s cheeks.

“Brian left the house and spent the night under the bleachers at the high school with a fifth of scotch he’d snatched from his old man’s liquor cabinet.

“Most of his birthdays were equally disappointing, or he’d get something to help around the house like a hedge clipper or some bullshit like that.

“By the time he met me, he had at least two or three after school jobs and for his fourteenth birthday, he bought himself a 10-speed bicycle. He loved that bike, but it just wasn’t the same as someone else giving it to him.” Uncle Michael looked at me and swiped the tears from below his eyes. “It was around that time that he realized the only thing worth celebrating was achievement -- birthdays were meaningless.”

Tears were streaming down my face, but I didn’t care. I just wanted the power to change history, like one of the superheroes in the comics, but I knew that was impossible.

“After that, Grandma Deb, Uncle Vic and I made sure Brian was with us on every one of our birthdays as well as his own. He let us make a big deal out of them, and he joined in the enthusiasm, but I could always see a hollow look in his eyes on his birthday. It never really went away.”

Uncle Michael stopped speaking and went in the back to get a box of tissues. He handed one to me and took one for himself.

“Thank you, Uncle Michael, for telling me all that.”

“I hope I didn’t make a mistake doing it.”

“No, besides I won’t tell anyone what I know.”

“So what are you going to do about your dad’s birthday?”

I was silent for a while and then it came to me. I knew exactly what I was going to do to make Dad realize he was worth celebrating -- just for being Brian Kinney.
 

[TBC]

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