Ten Tremont - Chapter 12
In which Adrian spends some quality time with his brother.
It took six weeks in rehab, two years of therapy and a 350-mile Michigan buffer to force me to grow up, and one afternoon with my brother to put me right back into junior high.
Jeff Lantz arrived in Pittsburgh the day before yesterday. The man is 32 going on 15. He's divorced, bitter, putting on weight, shares custody of his five-year-old son with a woman who left him for a podiatrist and lived the best years of his life at Grand Rapid’s Union High. With all that going for him, I admit, I am at a loss as to how he can still have so much power over me. For most people, that's their parent's role, but, for me, it has always been Jeff's. Just three years older than me, he has the ability to shrink my self-confidence and raise my defenses like no one else.
You probably went to high school with a guy like him. Remember the asshole jock that had everything going for him? You know…the looks, the grades, the girls...even the scholarships? Well, that wasn't my brother. At my school, that guy was Nathan Westerman and Jeff was his best friend; the wise cracking sidekick. Jeff was the tough guy who got a little too drunk after the games, a little too rowdy at the parties, and a little too rough at home. It didn't matter that he wasn't as smart or as cute or as talented as his buddy because Nathan's light shined bright enough for both of them.
As a result, Jeff skated through high school feasting on the scraps that Nathan would drop. In return, Nathan was provided with four years of my brother's death-defying antics. I'm sure they gave him countless stories to share with his frat brothers at Ohio State. That's where Nathan went when he left Jeff behind.
With that turn of events, Jeff lost his compass. Not being college material, he thought the Marines might be the way to go. He bought into those ‘the few…the proud,’ commercials before the ink was dry on his high school diploma and served for a grand total of 14 months. I’ll probably never know the whole story as I suspect my parents white-washed it. According to them, Jeff had been set up by some fellow Marines and was caught with a large stash of illegal drugs. Unable to prove his innocence, he spent some time in the brig and was dishonorably discharged.
After that, my dad convinced a good friend in the construction business to take Jeff on as an apprentice. He’s a bricklayer now. It’s an honorable profession that has done nothing to expand anything but his biceps.
I'm rambling, aren't I? I get that way when I'm around Jeff. This background is necessary, however, so you will have some understanding as to why I acted as I did. For nearly eight years I had barely seen Jeff and for good reasons. Now, two weddings have thrown us together twice in as many months.
This most recent one was not just any wedding. Remember good old Nathan? Yup, the jock met a cheerleader from a wealthy Pittsburgh family and married her yesterday. It was a seriously classy union held at a nearby mansion and they each chose to have only one attendant. The fact that Jeff wasn’t picked to stand by Nathan’s side anymore seemed to weigh heavily on his shoulders when he arrived. But by the time he returned from the bachelor party, many beers served to dissipate any jealousy he may have felt. They also numbed his senses enough to not go ape shit when Marc and I opened the door in our skivvies. I caught a split second of shock in his eyes, but the alcohol had subdued his quick wit.
Not one of my brothers totally accepted my coming out, Jeff least of all. His immature bully mentality overflowed at family gatherings and he never could pass up the opportunity to get some dig in at the expense of his little brother the fag. His crude jokes often elicited snickers from the rest of the clan, and then there was usually an uncomfortable silence until someone jumped in to change the subject. But, when Jeff called asking if he could crash here for a couple of nights I honestly thought things might be changing. Silly me.
While the wedding party was busy doing ‘wedding things’ yesterday, I took Jeff out for a late breakfast and a scenic ride on the Duquesne Incline. Yeah, it’s a touristy thing to do, I know, but I foolishly thought the six-mile-an-hour ascent up Mt. Washington in an old wooden cable car would give me time to discover what I had hoped was a new and improved Jeff.
Things started off all right with, as usual, Jeff doing the talking and me doing the listening. With Nathan’s wedding in the air, he seemed to be on a relationship high and for a man with a failed, traditional, heterosexual marriage, he certainly is an expert on its merits. As the car made its slow climb he extolled the virtues of how great his relationship with Carrie was before the foot doctor stepped into the picture. While I didn’t spend much time around them during that period, I’m pretty sure Carrie would have a different story to tell.
Next, he went on to tell me all about the unfortunate woman he claims will be the ‘next Mrs. Lantz’. Her name is Tasha and, according to Jeff, she was going to attend the gala event with him this weekend but, sadly, an aunt of hers died and she needed to rush to her mother’s side at the last minute. So typical, I thought. Always a myriad of stories and excuses for why things didn’t turn out as planned. I guess, if history repeats itself, I’ll never hear about this Tasha person again.
Things were just rolling along when he inevitably dropped the match that ignited my fuse. “Yup,” Jeff stated matter-of-factly, “marriage and family…that’s what it’s all about, bro…” He paused to pat my leg and attempt to let the momentary silence confirm the truth of his statement. Then he continued, “Too bad you’ll never get to experience it.” Then he lowered his voice and snickered, “Unless you decide to switch teams and take a liking to pussy that is.”
For years I let remarks like that roll off my shoulders, probably because I’ve always been outnumbered and marginalized when I was in his presence. But yesterday, I was on my home turf and it was an even match. Hell, I was far more successful than this man, and there was no way he was going to lord it over me because he, by virtue of his God-given sexual orientation, got to experience ‘what it was all about’ while I would be denied.
“Jeff, believe it or not, one does not need a vagina or even a penis in the mix to experience life’s greatest pleasures.” I, unlike him, didn’t lower my voice. The comment immediately caused nearby heads to turn toward the both of us and then, just as quickly, look away. I could see from the color of Jeff’s face, it also served to properly embarrass him.
I didn’t give him time to compose a come-back before I continued. “You fail to recognize that Marc and I have held together a committed relationship and all the joys that go with it for longer than anyone else in our family except mom and dad!”
He spoke then but didn’t look me in the eye. “That doesn’t really count.”
“Doesn’t really count!” My decibel level was rising. “What the fuck do you mean by that?”
With this, the woman who was sitting directly to my right gathered her purse and deftly maneuvered her way to a seat as far away from us as she could find. The car seats a maximum of 25 or so, and this morning there were at least 15 other individuals who had the pleasure of experiencing a typical Lantz family reunion with us.
“Face it, Adrian. If you choose to stay the way you are, you’ll never have a real family. You know…with kids and all. It will always just be you and Marc and what are the chances of that lasting. We all know those statistics.”
He emphasized the word, ‘those’, to make sure I understood gay men do not have the best track record for long term commitment. The fact that we had already proven that theory false for us had no impact on him. I should have stopped right there and realized there are some people, the majority of my family included, that are never going to get it. But, naturally, I didn’t.
“News flash, Jeff. Gay couples have children.”
“Name one.”
Okay, he momentarily had me. I mean, I knew there were plenty of gay and lesbian couples happily raising a litter of kids, but just not personally. Marc and I had not yet begun to run with the family crowd. Fuck, we hadn’t even discussed the possibility of kids in the future but now I needed one and I needed one fast.
Who did I come up with? God help me, “Brian Kinney.”
“Who the fuck is Brian Kinney?” Jeff asked, unimpressed.
“He’s our neighbor.” I stated defiantly. “He has a son…a…a baby… and he lives with his partner, Justin.” I was stumbling all over myself trying to impress my brother while realizing I had no fucking clue if any of this were even true.
The cable car had reached the end of the line, and the other passengers were more than happy to make a hasty exit. The lovely view of the river and the city below us worked its magic, and the tense conversation that had just taken place was replaced with talk of the geography of Pittsburgh and what landmarks we could pick out from that vantage point. That’s the way arguments are usually settled…or, more realistically, left to fester…in the Lantz family.
Jeff and I wasted 45 minutes or so in the little visitor’s center/museum at the top and then headed back to the loft mid-afternoon so he could get ready for the wedding. When we arrived home, we startled Marc who was immersed in the show that was playing out next door.
“Oh, hi guys, did you have a good time?” He instinctively attempted to hide the binoculars behind his back but it was too late.
“You’re spying on your neighbors?” Jeff asked snarkily.
“Not spying!” I foolishly stated and looked to Marc with a horrified expression. My intent was to convey my life story to him with that look and also to make him understand that I somehow needed him to say only good, life-affirming things about our wonderful, family man neighbor, Brian Kinney.
Apparently our relationship has yet to rise to those heights. Marc set the glasses on the table and stated, “Brian’s been ripped off. You should have been here. When I got home the cops were over there, and the next thing I knew, Big Q guy arrived. Then Justin came home and Brian tore into him. I think he kicked him out. Justin gathered his shit and left with his backpack. Now Brian and Big Q guy are over there getting stoned.”
My heart sank. Fuck face Jeff turned to me with a shit-eating grin.
“Gee, I sure hope the robbers didn’t get the baby.”
Go to Chapter 13
It took six weeks in rehab, two years of therapy and a 350-mile Michigan buffer to force me to grow up, and one afternoon with my brother to put me right back into junior high.
Jeff Lantz arrived in Pittsburgh the day before yesterday. The man is 32 going on 15. He's divorced, bitter, putting on weight, shares custody of his five-year-old son with a woman who left him for a podiatrist and lived the best years of his life at Grand Rapid’s Union High. With all that going for him, I admit, I am at a loss as to how he can still have so much power over me. For most people, that's their parent's role, but, for me, it has always been Jeff's. Just three years older than me, he has the ability to shrink my self-confidence and raise my defenses like no one else.
You probably went to high school with a guy like him. Remember the asshole jock that had everything going for him? You know…the looks, the grades, the girls...even the scholarships? Well, that wasn't my brother. At my school, that guy was Nathan Westerman and Jeff was his best friend; the wise cracking sidekick. Jeff was the tough guy who got a little too drunk after the games, a little too rowdy at the parties, and a little too rough at home. It didn't matter that he wasn't as smart or as cute or as talented as his buddy because Nathan's light shined bright enough for both of them.
As a result, Jeff skated through high school feasting on the scraps that Nathan would drop. In return, Nathan was provided with four years of my brother's death-defying antics. I'm sure they gave him countless stories to share with his frat brothers at Ohio State. That's where Nathan went when he left Jeff behind.
With that turn of events, Jeff lost his compass. Not being college material, he thought the Marines might be the way to go. He bought into those ‘the few…the proud,’ commercials before the ink was dry on his high school diploma and served for a grand total of 14 months. I’ll probably never know the whole story as I suspect my parents white-washed it. According to them, Jeff had been set up by some fellow Marines and was caught with a large stash of illegal drugs. Unable to prove his innocence, he spent some time in the brig and was dishonorably discharged.
After that, my dad convinced a good friend in the construction business to take Jeff on as an apprentice. He’s a bricklayer now. It’s an honorable profession that has done nothing to expand anything but his biceps.
I'm rambling, aren't I? I get that way when I'm around Jeff. This background is necessary, however, so you will have some understanding as to why I acted as I did. For nearly eight years I had barely seen Jeff and for good reasons. Now, two weddings have thrown us together twice in as many months.
This most recent one was not just any wedding. Remember good old Nathan? Yup, the jock met a cheerleader from a wealthy Pittsburgh family and married her yesterday. It was a seriously classy union held at a nearby mansion and they each chose to have only one attendant. The fact that Jeff wasn’t picked to stand by Nathan’s side anymore seemed to weigh heavily on his shoulders when he arrived. But by the time he returned from the bachelor party, many beers served to dissipate any jealousy he may have felt. They also numbed his senses enough to not go ape shit when Marc and I opened the door in our skivvies. I caught a split second of shock in his eyes, but the alcohol had subdued his quick wit.
Not one of my brothers totally accepted my coming out, Jeff least of all. His immature bully mentality overflowed at family gatherings and he never could pass up the opportunity to get some dig in at the expense of his little brother the fag. His crude jokes often elicited snickers from the rest of the clan, and then there was usually an uncomfortable silence until someone jumped in to change the subject. But, when Jeff called asking if he could crash here for a couple of nights I honestly thought things might be changing. Silly me.
While the wedding party was busy doing ‘wedding things’ yesterday, I took Jeff out for a late breakfast and a scenic ride on the Duquesne Incline. Yeah, it’s a touristy thing to do, I know, but I foolishly thought the six-mile-an-hour ascent up Mt. Washington in an old wooden cable car would give me time to discover what I had hoped was a new and improved Jeff.
Things started off all right with, as usual, Jeff doing the talking and me doing the listening. With Nathan’s wedding in the air, he seemed to be on a relationship high and for a man with a failed, traditional, heterosexual marriage, he certainly is an expert on its merits. As the car made its slow climb he extolled the virtues of how great his relationship with Carrie was before the foot doctor stepped into the picture. While I didn’t spend much time around them during that period, I’m pretty sure Carrie would have a different story to tell.
Next, he went on to tell me all about the unfortunate woman he claims will be the ‘next Mrs. Lantz’. Her name is Tasha and, according to Jeff, she was going to attend the gala event with him this weekend but, sadly, an aunt of hers died and she needed to rush to her mother’s side at the last minute. So typical, I thought. Always a myriad of stories and excuses for why things didn’t turn out as planned. I guess, if history repeats itself, I’ll never hear about this Tasha person again.
Things were just rolling along when he inevitably dropped the match that ignited my fuse. “Yup,” Jeff stated matter-of-factly, “marriage and family…that’s what it’s all about, bro…” He paused to pat my leg and attempt to let the momentary silence confirm the truth of his statement. Then he continued, “Too bad you’ll never get to experience it.” Then he lowered his voice and snickered, “Unless you decide to switch teams and take a liking to pussy that is.”
For years I let remarks like that roll off my shoulders, probably because I’ve always been outnumbered and marginalized when I was in his presence. But yesterday, I was on my home turf and it was an even match. Hell, I was far more successful than this man, and there was no way he was going to lord it over me because he, by virtue of his God-given sexual orientation, got to experience ‘what it was all about’ while I would be denied.
“Jeff, believe it or not, one does not need a vagina or even a penis in the mix to experience life’s greatest pleasures.” I, unlike him, didn’t lower my voice. The comment immediately caused nearby heads to turn toward the both of us and then, just as quickly, look away. I could see from the color of Jeff’s face, it also served to properly embarrass him.
I didn’t give him time to compose a come-back before I continued. “You fail to recognize that Marc and I have held together a committed relationship and all the joys that go with it for longer than anyone else in our family except mom and dad!”
He spoke then but didn’t look me in the eye. “That doesn’t really count.”
“Doesn’t really count!” My decibel level was rising. “What the fuck do you mean by that?”
With this, the woman who was sitting directly to my right gathered her purse and deftly maneuvered her way to a seat as far away from us as she could find. The car seats a maximum of 25 or so, and this morning there were at least 15 other individuals who had the pleasure of experiencing a typical Lantz family reunion with us.
“Face it, Adrian. If you choose to stay the way you are, you’ll never have a real family. You know…with kids and all. It will always just be you and Marc and what are the chances of that lasting. We all know those statistics.”
He emphasized the word, ‘those’, to make sure I understood gay men do not have the best track record for long term commitment. The fact that we had already proven that theory false for us had no impact on him. I should have stopped right there and realized there are some people, the majority of my family included, that are never going to get it. But, naturally, I didn’t.
“News flash, Jeff. Gay couples have children.”
“Name one.”
Okay, he momentarily had me. I mean, I knew there were plenty of gay and lesbian couples happily raising a litter of kids, but just not personally. Marc and I had not yet begun to run with the family crowd. Fuck, we hadn’t even discussed the possibility of kids in the future but now I needed one and I needed one fast.
Who did I come up with? God help me, “Brian Kinney.”
“Who the fuck is Brian Kinney?” Jeff asked, unimpressed.
“He’s our neighbor.” I stated defiantly. “He has a son…a…a baby… and he lives with his partner, Justin.” I was stumbling all over myself trying to impress my brother while realizing I had no fucking clue if any of this were even true.
The cable car had reached the end of the line, and the other passengers were more than happy to make a hasty exit. The lovely view of the river and the city below us worked its magic, and the tense conversation that had just taken place was replaced with talk of the geography of Pittsburgh and what landmarks we could pick out from that vantage point. That’s the way arguments are usually settled…or, more realistically, left to fester…in the Lantz family.
Jeff and I wasted 45 minutes or so in the little visitor’s center/museum at the top and then headed back to the loft mid-afternoon so he could get ready for the wedding. When we arrived home, we startled Marc who was immersed in the show that was playing out next door.
“Oh, hi guys, did you have a good time?” He instinctively attempted to hide the binoculars behind his back but it was too late.
“You’re spying on your neighbors?” Jeff asked snarkily.
“Not spying!” I foolishly stated and looked to Marc with a horrified expression. My intent was to convey my life story to him with that look and also to make him understand that I somehow needed him to say only good, life-affirming things about our wonderful, family man neighbor, Brian Kinney.
Apparently our relationship has yet to rise to those heights. Marc set the glasses on the table and stated, “Brian’s been ripped off. You should have been here. When I got home the cops were over there, and the next thing I knew, Big Q guy arrived. Then Justin came home and Brian tore into him. I think he kicked him out. Justin gathered his shit and left with his backpack. Now Brian and Big Q guy are over there getting stoned.”
My heart sank. Fuck face Jeff turned to me with a shit-eating grin.
“Gee, I sure hope the robbers didn’t get the baby.”
Go to Chapter 13