Homework

Chapter 15:  Visitors and Visitations
 

Brian

"Let's fucking eat!"

Jesus!

He was the one who insisted that we finish the speeches off with a formal invitation for people to "break bread with us in our new home" or some bullshit.

But whatever the fuck.

Everyone seemed to have a good time, well except for Mikey who pouted over his little encounter with Sunshine's fan club for most of the night. Or about the fact that we didn't hold off on the party till a weekend when he had JR down here. Or over the fact that his panties were too fucking tight. Who the fuck knows? I love him like a brother, always have; but he can be the most stubbornly petulant shit on the planet when he puts his mind to it.

He makes Gus look like a responsible adult. Speaking of whom …

We had the expected battle to get the kid to bed. He's a stubborn little shit like his Dus; we only managed to get him there eventually by reminding him that he had to be wide awake tomorrow for his own party. But I guess at least the sound-proofing meant that he wasn't disturbed once he finally did get to sleep. We had his room monitor alerts diverted to our cell phones, and put those on vibrate, so even if we couldn't hear them, we'd feel them. But there wasn't a peep out of him. Jenn, Daphne, Justin and I all checked on him at various points, but he was off in dreamland. Looked like good dreams too. Sometimes I watch him when he's asleep just to see the little smile that always seems to be on his face. It's fucking amazing to me that he's so relaxed, lying there sprawled out on his back, without a care in the world; and it's even more amazing that he seems to be such a happy kid.

He wasn't when Linds first brought him back from Toronto; little things could bring this look of anxiety into his eyes. But the longer he's been with us, the less often that happens. I can't remember seeing it for days, maybe not for weeks. And that's a fucking miracle to me, that my son likes being here with us; that just being with me – and with his Dus, of course - makes his world a better, safer and fucking happier place.

I have to find a way to make sure that even when Linds gets released and wants him back, takes him back to live with her, that he doesn't go backwards. I won't let that happen. I just fucking won't.

 

*****
 

Justin

Emmett's minions arrived at daybreak this morning to make sure everything was cleaned up and ready to go again for this afternoon.

It's a nice sunny day which means that we can go ahead with all of what we have planned without having to adapt it to "indoors only".

Basically we didn't want to have a kind of whole over the top kids' party thing with bouncy castles or whatever, but we did still want to keep the kids entertained, and give them a good time that they'll hopefully remember. We thought about it a lot, and then we figured that as it's kind of Gus's housewarming party, we should center whatever we do around the house. So we've set up a kind of treasure hunt.

That is, the kids start off with one clue that takes them to a particular area or object and they have to find the next clue there, and so on. If they get all the clues right, and get to the end, there'll be a reward. To Brian's disgust, that's a cake – well, it's an ice-cream cake in the shape of a pirate's treasure chest with a Jolly Roger on the lid and everything. There'll also be a small reward for each of them.

The upstairs part of the house is out of bounds and not part of the treasure hunt, and Brian's office has been locked as well. But there are clues hidden just about all over the house and the garden.

It's not a competition, the whole point is that they have to do it as a team.

Gus has some advantage, because it's his house.

But we've made up two maps which some of the clues refer to (things like "it's in the green area on the map). There's one of the first floor and another of the pool area and the garden and Mitch and Lenny will have one of those each, which the others aren't allowed to see. We've also written a couple in really basic French (like "Je suis sur la table dans la salle à manger.") so they'll need Isobel for those. Some of the clues are photos of things like the DVD player in the entertainment room – so Gus will do best with those ones because he'll know where the DVD player is. Everyone will have a chance to be the one who has the special inside information necessary, and if they all work together, in the end they'll find the "treasure".

We thought about uncovering the pool as it's probably warm enough, but neither of us wanted the responsibility of managing a bunch of over-excited kids jumping in and out of a pool that's not really designed for that sort of stuff. So we've left it covered but opened up all the panels, so we can set up the snacks and drinks in that area like we did last night, but sit out in the sun while the kids run all over the house looking for their clues.

Mom and Molly are coming over and Molly is going to keep an eye on them and help with the clues if necessary.

Then when they've run off some of their energy, we can sit down in the dining area and have something to eat – including the ice-cream cake, of course. And then we thought they could have some quiet time in the new games room, where there's lots of Leggo and paint and crayons and stuff, or even sit and watch a DVD if they like.

Hopefully it will all work out okay.

And even more hopefully it won't be invaded by the Novotny's.

 

*****
 

Brian

It's fucking typical that Deb was trying to finagle her way into the kitchen "to help clear up" when she overheard Emmett discussing plans for Gus's party with one of his minions.

Of course after that it was inevitable that both she and Mikey would get totally bent out of shape over the fact that we didn't invite them to Gus's party. Especially when they found out Jennifer and Molly were coming. The fact that Jenn is officially Gus's grandmother, and that they are only coming to help us out with the rug rats is beside the fucking point, apparently.

Between Deb insisting that we'd need her to provide fucking food and Mikey doing the "best fucking friend" routine…

In the end I had to play the fucking heavy and tell them that there's no point in them showing their faces because I won't fucking let them in.

Of course that triggered a whole shitload more drama, but fortunately just about everyone else had left by then.

Eventually Justin managed to get it through to Deb at least that it's not even really a party, it's just Gus having a few friends over to show them the house and the only reason we're having Emmett do the catering is because Justin and I have had too much else to think about. But Mikey was still sulking when he left.

Nothing much new there then.

Every time I don't do exactly what he or Debbie fucking think I should do, I revert to being "The Asshole". Never mind that I paid for him to get up to Toronto to sort out all the legal shit over his daughter, never mind that I helped organize a fucking lawyer, never mind that I lent him the money that meant Ben had a house to come home to, or that I leaned heavily on the GLC to take Ben on as an AIDS counselor, given that he pretty much forfeited his College tenure when he got himself banged up for kicking the shit out of some old guy.

All of that goes out the fucking window because Mikey's feelings are hurt because he didn't get an invite to a kids' fucking party.

Well, tough shit!

Today's going to be tough enough, coping with a house full of fucking five year olds and their straight parents without having to worry about Mikey or Deb opening their mouths about a whole lot of shit that isn't anyone's business except Justin's and mine.

I can just fucking see it…

"Oh, we were so surprised when Brian decided he was going to settle down in suburbia because he's spent so long fucking everything that moved on Liberty Avenue…"

Yeah, like I'm going to let them spill that shit around my son and his school friends and their parents.

I'm not ashamed of my past. I am who I am.

But there's no need to rub the straight world's fucking faces in it.

Like I've always said, if it's not you I'm fucking, it's none of your business.

I just wish the fuck that Mikey and Deb weren't so convinced that it's their business, and that they weren't so fucking obsessed by my fucking reputation.

 

*****
 

Justin

It's Monday, and the two parties are over, and people have finally stopped calling to ask if we need help with the clean up and to thank us and to congratulate us (I've had to keep Brian away from those ones).

Everyone had a good time yesterday I think. Mom and Molly were a great help, and so was Brian's Mom, actually. The other parents were really nice and while Molly and the kids were doing the treasure hunt we all sat around and chatted and even Brian didn't seem to find it totally horrible. Both of Isobel's parents came, and Lennie's mother and Mitch's father. Lennie's father stayed home because he's preparing for some big meeting tomorrow (which sounds just like Brian) and Mitch's sister had been invited to a party too, so his Mom took her to that one. I heard Mitch's Dad telling Brian that he insisted on coming to our place rather than face a dozen eight year old girls running round screaming. He and Brian kind of looked at each other in horror just at the thought and they got on really well after that.

Isobel's parents seemed really pleased that we'd put the French bits into the treasure hunt, and even more so when the kids got their own little treasure bags. We'd included a DVD of Disney's Peter Pan (the old animated one) for each of them, and I managed to get some from a Canadian supplier so it can be played in either English or French. I also did sketches of the kids as pirates from some photos that we got from the parents last week. So they were in their treasure packs as well. Plus a few chocolate coins … that kind of stuff. I'm going to work the sketches into the panel I'm painting for Gus's room.

It was a little bit embarrassing about the sketches, because apparently Lennie's Mom had seen something in an online blog about the Warhol exhibit, and she was all "OMG" about having a "Justin Taylor original sketch". Like I said, embarrassing.

But Gus had a good time, and we've arranged that he's going to go over to Mitch's next weekend for a couple of hours, and maybe to Isobel's one day after school, and to Lennie's some time next week, and that maybe the four kids and one of the other parents can come out on the boat with us one day soon, so maybe it really has helped Gus "socialize" and the whole thing has been totally worth it.

But now the three of us are just relaxing.

Brian is down in the pool area. He set up his treadmill there this morning and is running out some of his frustrations with all the ridiculous bullshit we've been copping from our supposedly well-meaning friends all weekend. Well, not from all of them. From Debbie mostly. And of course from Michael who spent most of this time at the party making all these "you're a domesticated fag now, just like you've always hated" cracks and then followed them up with about a million phone calls and texts. He thinks he's so fucking funny, and he has absolutely no clue at all how fucking hard this is.

We love Gus. And of course we want him here. But it doesn't come naturally to either of us to put everything else aside and remember, 24 hours a day, that we have to think about a five year old.

Well, I guess it should come easier to Brian.

He's had to think about dear little Mikey all these years.

But instead of Michael showing any fucking understanding of that, and doing his best to support Brian, he's been using it as an opportunity to fucking gloat at him; to rub Brian's nose in all the shit we're dealing with and to play on every single fucking fear and insecurity he's got. I nearly fucking threw him out on Saturday, and he won't be invited back any fucking time soon.

Anyway, at least today we're past all that, and Brian's down there with the headset on running for like a thousand miles which is his idea of relaxing. Gus is outside somewhere playing. I think he's being a wildlife photographer or something. We watched a nature documentary the other day and Gus was fascinated by some of the close up filming of bugs and insects. This morning he "made" a camera out of a small cardboard box and he's been outside "filming" with it ever since.

Brian, of course, was all for driving down to the store to buy him a real camera, or at least a realistic toy one. But I think he'll have much more fun with the one he's made. It doesn't matter if it gets wet or dirty or even if he steps on it. He can just make another one.

We're both a little nervous about him playing outside on his own, but it's another beautiful day and he's not a baby anymore. The garden has good fences, he can't get down to the river and Brian is in the pool area so he's safe inside our own yard. Sure he might fall down and skin his knee or something. Kids do. We can't keep him locked away inside just so we feel better.

I feel like I should be doing something - sketching at least, but instead I'm sitting in the main room just lying around and reading all the Sunday features because we didn't really have time to do that yesterday. It feels like the first time we've had a chance to do this sort of shit in forever.

So I guess it's typical that the doorbell rings.

If it's either Deb or Michael I'm going to throw them out on their fucking ass.

But it isn't.

It's Megan.

One of her surprise visits I suppose.

I open the door and let her in.

She smiles at me.

"Hello, Justin."

"Hi … um … we weren't really expecting you."

She raises an eyebrow and I feel like an idiot because I guess that's the whole point.

"Are Brian and Gus home?" she asks.

"Sure," I say. "Brian is down in the pool area and Gus is outside playing. Do you want me to get them?"

"No, let's you and I have a catch up first."

I take her into the kitchen and make her some tea. I decide to have a cup myself. Mom always says Chamomile is calming, and I feel like I could use some calming down. I know it's stupid, but it's kind of scary having someone come in and kind of inspect us when it could mean that we lose Gus. I know that's ridiculous. I know that Gus is happy and that he's well-cared for. But it's still stressful going through it every time.

"So how have things been?" she asks.

I tell her that it's been a busy weekend, and explain about the two parties. She nods and smiles. I make sure I tell her that as well as some of Gus's classmates we had their parents come over for a couple of hours. "And my Mom was here. And … and Brian's Mom."

She looks a little surprised at that. I guess somewhere along the line she's heard that they're not on good terms.

"They've been estranged for a long time," I tell her. "She's very … religious."

She pulls a face, so I know she understands what kind of religious I'm talking about.

"But she's trying, and she's talking to my Mom, and she even went to a PFLAG meeting with Mom last week, so … so Brian's trying too.

"I don't think they'll ever be really close," I tell her. "But at least they kind of don't hate each other."

Not like my Dad hates me, I think.

She nods and pats my arm so I think maybe she understands. I guess she must see a lot of that shit … parents rejecting their kids just for being themselves. It sucks, but it's how it is for a lot of us. At least Brian and Joanie are on better terms now than I am with Craig. Which is kind of a miracle in itself and makes me not entirely lose hope that one day we might get to some kind of truce like Brian has with his Mom.

Megan changes the subject then and asks how my painting is going and I tell her about the Warhol accepting both the paintings I did for them, and about my show in October. She seems really happy for me.

She asks if we've thought about the school vacation and I tell her that Gus is already enrolled in the school's Holiday program.

"It's a really good one," I hear myself saying enthusiastically. "Every week they kind of have a theme – so one week is music week and they all practice something and at the end of the week they have a concert, and another week it's all about learning about Pittsburgh so they learn a bit about its history and important buildings and stuff, and on Friday they go on a bus tour round the city seeing some of the things they've learned about."

She nods and smiles again, and I find myself telling her that I've agreed to go along and talk to the different classes during Art week.

"And they have a 'Learning about Jobs' week and Brian is going to go along and talk about advertising. He's already working on the different sessions for different classes and some of the older kids are going to visit Kinnetik so they can see what it's actually like in an advertising agency."

She smiles widely at that. "I'll bet he has his assistant already lined up to take them off his hands," she says.

I laugh and agree. But I can tell that she's pleased that we're both doing our best to be involved in this kind of stuff.

She finishes her cup of tea, and pushes it away with a little sigh.

"Justin, if I'm honest with you, I didn't really intend to visit here today. But I've … it's been a … difficult weekend."

I look at her and realize that she looks really tired. The kind of tired you look when life is really kicking your ass.

"There have been a couple of bad cases," she says. "So I thought I'd give myself a treat and come and see you boys so you could cheer me up."

I can't explain how I feel when she says that. I guess I should be mad or something that she's kind of inflicting this visit on us just for her own satisfaction, but I'm not. Because I can tell she means it. She was completely and absolutely sure that she'd find everything alright here. That she'd find Gus is okay and we're not fucking up and we're doing an okay job at being parents.

And that's amazing. It's just an amazing feeling.

I'm trying to find some way that's not totally lame to thank her when we're interrupted. We hear footsteps on the stairs up to the deck and then a little whirlwind runs into the kitchen.

"Dus, Dus is it lunchtime yet? I'm star-ving!"

He's also filthy. He has dirt streaks just about everywhere, including on his nose, and there are twigs and bits of who knows what in his hair.

But he's got a smile about a mile wide so who gives a shit?

"Gus, you remember Ms. Davies. Come and say "hello". Then we can get you washed up and see if we can find something to feed you."

God! I sound like my Mom.

 

*****
 

Brian

I hear Gus thunder up the steps. For someone so small he can make a hell of a fucking racket. I hear it even through the music on the headphones.

I reach out and put the machine on slow down, letting myself wind down gradually. I think about either a swim or a shower, but decide that I'll go see if my sonnyboys want to join me.

So I head upstairs.

I hear their voices as soon as I come in from the deck. Gus is babbling away about how he's been filming all the insects in the garden. He's still got that fucking cardboard box. But he's drawn a lens and a whole bunch of buttons on the top and he's explaining to Ms. … Megan what they're all for. Give the old dame credit she listens and asks halfway intelligent questions.

When I get a good look at my son and heir I'm fucking appalled. He looks like he's wearing half the damned garden. But under all the fucking mud and shit he's beaming away, so I guess I should try and stifle my not unnatural concern about him traipsing all this mess through our newly decorated house. At least I should if I want the other one of my housemates to show me any fucking warmth for the next week or so anyway.

Now Gus is telling our visitor all about his party yesterday. How it was part of our housewarming celebrations. He learned that phrase by heart and he says it carefully now. Dus has picked up the digital camera that never seems to be fucking far from him these days and is showing her some of the photos he took. Well, we took. He might be a great fucking painter but he knows shit about photography. I had to wrest the fucking camera away from him and take some of the damned photos myself just to make sure there were some fucking decent ones. Otherwise he'd have been bitching about it for weeks once he tried to actually print any out.

And he's promised Gus that we'll print some today so he can take them for show and tell tomorrow.

Finally, Dus picks up on the fact that I'm less than impressed by the dirt that is spreading itself all round the kitchen and after a bit of a debate, takes Gus down to have a shower in the pool area before we all jump in the pool for half an hour. Then we can have some lunch.

At least he won't be shedding all that dirt in his bathroom.

Megan smiles at me.

"I've been hearing all about your parties," she says. "Congratulations. The house is looking wonderful."

I shrug.

"We weren't sure they were going to finish it," I hear myself telling her as I get a bottle of water out of the fridge and put the kettle on to make her another cup of tea.

"The paint in the games room only just dried in time for us to be able to get stuff put away before Gus's party yesterday."

"You have a games room? Is that downstairs?"

I shake my head and gesture across to the other side of the house.

"It's off the main room," I tell her. "It was being used as a storage area, but it's got heating and cooling so we put down some decent flooring and some shelves and s… stuff. Gives Gus somewhere to play to keep out from under our feet if the weather's not good."

She nods. "Always a blessing," she says. I shrug again.

The truth is, it was strange this morning. Normally if I'm home Gus is hanging around me all the time. Well, unless he's with Justin. But this morning he seemed to want to go off on his own. I hope…

I remember how I used to try to get out of the house, to find a spot to hide in the garden. I…

Megan's voice cuts in on me, "I was saying to Justin that I decided on the spur of the moment to drop in on you boys because I needed … I needed to see something positive. To remind me that … that not all parents…"

She breaks off and shrugs. "Well, sometimes I see things that I wish I hadn't, that's all."

She takes a sip of tea and says, "But, spontaneous or not, it is an official visit and I will be filing a report."

Fuck! What now? Surely she isn't going to freak out over the fact that Gus has a bit of dirt on his face, or that I'm not wearing a fucking shirt. How the fuck was I supposed to know she was here? I suppose I should have gone and got dressed … Fuck!

"Brian, one of the things that I am going to put into my report is that I don't believe we should be wasting department time making any more of these surprise visits. We will still do regular catch ups every month or so, but I will call and arrange a mutually agreeable time for those."

I find myself staring at her.

She smiles. "It's very clear that Gus is well-cared for and happy. The fact that he's feeling so comfortable with you two that he can afford to go off into his own world for an hour or two is a very good sign."

I bite my lip, trying to find the way to ask the question about how the fuck does she know it's a good thing, and that he's not just doing what I used to do, when I used to hide as far away from the house as I could get.

"Brian, the truth is that Gus is so comfortable with you and with Justin that he is beginning to take you for granted. That might be a bit of a blow to your ego, but it's very healthy for the child. Welcome to the world of being a good parent."

I'm trying to take in what she's saying, trying to believe it.

She smiles again, more gently. "Brian, I don't know what your childhood was like, except for the few mentions in the reports from the court."

Fuck! I'd forgotten that among the many pieces of bullshit that Mel's lawyer threw at us, at me, was that there was no way I could be a decent father because of all the shit my family pulled on me. I want to snap at her that she knows fuck all about my childhood and that even if she did it doesn't fucking mean anything, but she's going on …

"I gather it wasn't a very happy one. I suspect that if you disappeared into the garden or the cellar or anywhere else, it was to try and hide, and I am absolutely sure that you didn't speak to anyone about where you'd gone or what you'd been doing."

Damned right! It would have been asking for trouble, even if all I'd done was sit behind the garage and read for an hour or so. If I had time to do that I should have been helping with the chores or even worse, going to fucking Church.

"That isn't what Gus was doing this morning," she says, spearing me with her eyes like she wants to make sure I'm fucking listening. Of course I am. What the fuck? I know shit about all this stuff. I'll listen to anything she wants to tell me. I might not agree, I might not act on it. But I'll listen and make up my mind about it later.

"Gus was doing what any child his age should be doing … he was out exploring his world. He was safe inside your fences, and he was safe inside your love for him. So he could go burrowing around under the shrubs and lifting up rocks, looking at the insects and admiring the snail trails and learning about his little world by living in it. And while he was doing that he probably hardly thought of you or of Justin at all. Unless he maybe wanted to show you some of the things he found.

"And when he got hungry he came in and started telling his Dus all about what he'd been doing all morning, and I'm sure he'll share it all with you if you ask."

She stops and gives a grin then. "Or probably even if you don't. I don't know if you've noticed but your son is a bit of a chatterbox."

"Takes after his Dus," I mumble and she smiles wider.

"But he didn't need to keep running back to you to see if you were still there," she goes on, "because he absolutely trusts that you will be. He doesn't need to be with you every moment, because he knows that when he comes in for lunch or when he wants to talk to you, or if he needs you for anything, one of you will be there. He trusts that so strongly that he really is starting to take it for granted.

"And that's a very good thing. It means you're doing a very good job.

"Congratulations, Dad."

I blink at her.

My throat feels closed up. I shouldn't have come up here without putting on at least a t-shirt. I think I must be getting the flu or something.

She gets up.

"Justin's told me about the school's holiday program. So it sounds as if you have that sorted. I'm quite confident that Gus is receiving all the care and attention he needs, even if his Dad does verge on the over-protective. And the fact that he has been able to have his friends over to the house for a visit means that he's beginning to socialize very nicely. So I will contact you in a month or so, and we will arrange a catch up then. If you need anything in the meantime, including a free pep talk, you have my number."

We move towards the front door, and as I open it she turns and says, "Oh, also … I am recommending that, for the time being at least, Gus have no contact with the Petersens."

I'm not an idiot and there was something about the way she said that which told me it wasn't just because she thinks Gus is a happy little camper with us and doesn't need them.

She purses her lips and gets that look she had the first day in my office. "I met with them earlier this week and I have to say that I am not convinced that they would be anything like a positive influence in Gus's life. Given how little time they've spent with him in the past, I see no reason why he should be disturbed and his routine interrupted by them now."

She smiles one more time at me and says, "If they do insist on pursuing this regardless of my recommendation, please make sure your attorney keeps me informed. I will be happy to attend any hearing on the matter to explain in detail why contact with people who hold such bigoted views about his parents can only be to Gus's detriment."

I find myself squirming a little when she says that. Because the Petersens aren't the only bigots in our little circle.

"He's met my mother a couple of times," I tell her off-handedly.

"I gather from Justin that that is a rather different situation. Whatever your mother's views may have been, she seems to be genuinely trying to widen her horizons and be more accepting of both you and your relationship with Justin."

"Oh, she loves Justin," I say somewhat wryly.

She grins at me then and once again she reminds me of Debbie. "I'll just bet she does. Cute, blond, smart as a whip and I bet she thinks he's sweet as pie."

I find myself grinning back as I nod in agreement.

"Yes, well, you and I both know that under that sweet blond exterior there is a very resolute young man who won't let anyone get away with any bullshit that hurts his family, if he can help it. But we don't have to tell everyone that, do we? Let them find out for themselves if they cross him."

I laugh then and she waves and walks out to her car.

"Bye, Dad!" she calls as she gets in.

I watch her drive away, thinking that I have to find a way to get her together with Debbie.

Then I go and join my sonnyboys in the pool.

 

*****
 

Justin

We've just finished lunch when there's a knock at the door.

When I see that it's Carl I get this horrible feeling in my chest.

It's never good news when a policeman comes knocking, even when he's part of the family. Besides, I can tell by the way that he's looking at me that he's going to say something he knows I’m not going to want to hear.

Gus is back playing wild life photographer again, so I pour us each a cup of coffee and the three of us sit in the kitchen and look at each other in silence for a moment.

The sunshine is spilling through the kitchen windows and also through the glass wall and the room is glowing. It looks like it should be a happy place. But the feeling in my chest is getting worse and worse.

I know it's not urgent, because he would already have said, but I also know it's going to be bad.

Carl takes a deep breath, and says quietly, "We're very close to making an arrest over the bombing. In fact, it will be happening this afternoon."

Fuck!

I feel Brian stiffen beside me, and reach out to touch his hand. He grabs mine and stares at Carl.

"We've known the group involved for a while now, we've just been making sure all the pieces were in place before we jumped on them. We don't want anything to go wrong, we don't want any chance that they'll find some legal loophole to wriggle through because we didn't follow procedure to the letter."

Brian nods. He knows and I know there's more to it. If that were all, Carl would be sitting there with a big grin on his face, sharing that news.

He takes another breath.

"We've been going through their phone records," he says. "As it was a bombing, we were able to use the anti-terrorist legislation to get access to them."

I nod, my mouth dry.

"Two of the numbers that came up a number of times were …," he pauses and takes a sip of coffee, maybe his mouth is as dry as mine is, then he looks straight into my eyes and goes on, "Justin, there's no easy way to say this … they were for your father's cell phone and also his private office number."
 

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