The Gus Diaries

Part 90

Aftermath
 

After Tuesday’s stupid misunderstanding, I thought things would get back to normal. Boy, was I wrong! It’s been really tense at Britin, and it hasn’t involved me.

I’ve been doing some extra chores around the house, and although Jeff couldn’t come out this week, we talked on the phone... a lot. If it hadn’t been for him, I might have fallen apart.

The morning following all the gossipy bullshit, I assumed we were back to business as usual.

When I arrived in the kitchen for breakfast, it was as if I’d entered a library. It was quiet... too quiet.

“Hey, did you two take a vow of silence or something?” I pulled a bowl out of the cabinet and poured in my cereal and milk.

“No, Sonny Boy, we did not take any vows of silence. I believe Justin is still a tad perturbed about yesterday’s fiasco.” Dad folded the newspaper he was reading and took a sip of his coffee while glancing in Pop’s direction.

Pop was cooking scrambled eggs. When the toaster signaled, he continued fussing with the eggs. “The toast is ready. I’d get it for you, Brian, but you probably want to protect me from burning my fingers.”

Dad took another sip of coffee. He would usually make a sarcastic remark or smirk, but instead, he stood up, retrieved his toast, and sat down silently.

Pop divided the scrambled eggs onto two dishes. He took his and sat at the table. “I would’ve brought yours over, but I didn’t want to risk dropping the plate and possibly having it cut my foot. You’d want to protect me from that, wouldn’t you, Brian?”

Dad got his eggs and slammed the plate on the table. “You’ve made your point, Sunshine. Now stop it.”

It didn’t take a genius to figure out what was going on. At first, I’d thought Pop was angry about Dad taking that guy to dinner and Babylon. But Pop didn’t mind at all. I guess that’s what it’s like to really trust someone.

“Stop what!?” Pop glared at Dad. I started to eat my cereal slowly so I wouldn’t be noticed.

“Stop acting like a fucking drama queen.”

“I’ll stop acting like a fucking drama queen when you stop treating me like a child. I’m over thirty years old, and I fucking love and trust you without question. But instead of being honest with me, as you’ve always professed to be, you kept me in the dark about that asshole Brandon, who I don’t give a shit about.” It had been a long time since Pop had raised his voice -- he was really pissed.

“I was just trying to...”

“...I know what you were trying to do. You were trying to shelter me, keep me safe from any emotional upheaval.” Pop took a breath and lowered his volume. “Brian, I’m not that fragile, and here’s a news bulletin for you... I know you’d never fuck around on me. You don’t have to protect me from feeling jealous of you and some jerk you played your own version of midlife crisis with over ten years ago.”

“I just didn’t want you to worry or be concerned, so I figured--” Dad’s voice trailed off and he tilted his head.

“Shit! I fucking love you, and I’m not going to jump to any insane conclusions because Brandon wants you to handle the advertising for his thriving business.”

“And take him out on the town.”

“You’ve done it with other clients -- most of whom were far hotter.” Pop smirked and I began to relax.

Dad mumbled something.

“I didn’t quite catch that, Brian. Care to say it a bit louder?”

“Okay, I’m sorry. I fucked up. I should have known you wouldn’t give a shit. I guess I was hoping...”

“...to boost your own ego by thinking I would be jealous of an old non-trick?”

Dad lowered his head. “If I was being completely honest with myself, that might be part of my motivation for the choices I made.”

Pop reached across the table and placed his hand over Dad’s. “Brian, I love you, and you’d be a fool to think that anything will ever change the way I feel. I also trust you.” Dad looked into Pop’s eyes. “I will always trust you, you’ve earned it and I hope I’ve earned yours.” Pop entwined his fingers with Dad’s. “Sure, there are times both of us will be jealous of the attentions from others, but that mutual faith in us and our relationship will always be our guide.”

Dad snorted. “You’re such a drama queen.”

Pop huffed. “Takes one to know one.”

Both of them stood up and grabbed each other in a tight hug. They started to kiss. I heard Dad whisper into Pop’s ear, “I missed you last night.”

I opened my eyes wide -- had they slept apart? They never did that.

“I was right there.”

“Not really and we both know it.”

Pop nodded and they kissed long enough that I was getting disgusted. “If you want to have make-up sex, can you go upstairs? I’m trying to eat.”

Pop laughed and they broke their clutch and returned to their seats to have breakfast.

“You know, Gus, part of this is your fault too.”

I could feel a rush of heat rise on my face and nodded.

“If you’d come to me first, Sonny Boy, we could have straightened this out.”

“I know, I should have.” I stopped eating. The cereal didn’t taste good anymore. “I wish I’d never heard Uncle Michael talking to Uncle Emmett.”

Pop chimed in. “That’s a very interesting point, Gus. Your Uncle Michael.”

“What about him?”

“Yeah, Sunshine, what are you talking about now?”

“I think it’s time that Michael and I had a chat about the upcoming issue of Rage.”

“Justin...”

“Don’t worry, Brian, I have no intention of killing Zephyr, but I would like to play with him for a while.”

“How long is a while?” Dad sat up straighter in his chair.

“Oh, come on, Brian. You know I’ve grown to love him almost as much as you do, but after yesterday’s slip of faith, I think he needs to squirm... let’s say, over the weekend.”

Dad and Pop wore the most evil grins. I felt a shiver run up and down my spine.

“Care to share your plans with your devoted husband?”

“You’ll know everything soon enough.” Pop brought his empty dish to the sink. “Let’s just say I expect to see fireworks in the next issue of Rage.”

“Makes sense to me, it is almost the Fourth of July.”

I’m glad I just got a basic punishment. I’d hate to be on the wrong side of a scheme cooked up by Pop.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
 

Pop volunteered to drop me off at work since he was going to bring Uncle Michael some story ideas anyway.

“Hi, Justin, Gus.” He looked happy and innocent -- poor guy. “I can’t wait for the big Independence Day barbeque at Britin this weekend.”

I waved and immediately started to open the new boxes of comics that had arrived the previous day.

“Good morning, Michael.” Pop sounded cold.

“Something wrong?” Uncle Michael was organizing his collectibles behind the counter.

“How could you ask that? You know exactly what’s wrong.”

Uncle Michael stopped his activities and directed his attention toward Pop. “You mean yesterday. I apologized to Brian and made sure Em and Ma knew I’d fucked up the story.”

“I’m not talking about you, Michael, I’m talking about what this did to me and Brian. You reminded me of something I’d been masking for years.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You said it yourself, the night you first brought me to the diner. Brian can never really commit, he doesn’t love anyone. I know we’ve tried, but he just can’t give up sneaking around and wrangling his way back into the single life of Babylon.”

“Huh? No, you’re wrong!”

I took a second to glance their way. Uncle Michael was sweating. I bit my lip so I wouldn’t start snickering.

Pop spread out several storyboards he’d sketched shortly before we left Britin. “Look, here it is. This is how I see it playing out... and you’re the one who gets all the credit for reopening my eyes.”

Uncle Michael stared at the sketches. “Fuck!”

[TBC]

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