My Fathers' Son, 2/5 (PG)
My Fathers' Son, Part 2 of 5
(Back)
Jack’s birthday was in August. It was a hard time of year to get friends to come to your birthday party; everyone always seemed to be away on vacation. So, the year that Jack turned eight, Pop let him send out twelve invitations.
All twelve boys accepted. Pop did not take it very well.
Jack overheard Pop and Dad talking in the kitchen one day about the party.
“All right, it’s on Saturday, so we’re five days out,” Pop said. “Decorations, food, gift bags: I think I’m on track with everything. Cuddy finally agreed this morning that she’ll come over and help. Everything’s going to be fine, right?” Pop was sounding harassed.
“OK, Martha Stewart. They’re just boys; they won’t care.”
“Oh, but their mothers will care. You’re lucky I’m a simple guy; you don’t know how competitive these things can get.”
Dad’s amusement was clear in his voice. “You are such a woman!”
“Oh, shut up. You’re not the one who has to face these women at PTA meetings. They can be cliquish; they can make things difficult if they decide to. I need them on my side.”
“PTA politics. So sexy.”
“Cut that out, and help me with this list of activities. What about pin the tail on the donkey?”
“Jack and his friends are eight, not three. And did you say this was next Saturday? I’m not going to be here; I’ve got a thing.”
“Oh, you are going to be here. We’re having twelve eight-year-olds in this house.”
“You and Cuddy can handle it.”
“Twelve eight-year-old boys! That’s about the equivalent of a hundred adults. You’re staying and you’re helping. Now come up with another activity.”
“I’m thinking of a pretty good activity right now. Not really for children, though.”
“Did I not tell you to cut that out? What are you doing? No! No, no, no.” Pop was laughing now. Obviously, Dad had started Tickle Fingers. Jack enjoyed a good game of Tickle Fingers, but it was kind of weird when Dad did it to Pop. Dad’s eyes would get real narrow and Pop’s would get real wide, and Jack would have to leave the room. Which he did right now, even though Pop and Dad hadn’t seen him. Maybe he’d finish up some homework.
That Saturday morning was a busy one. Pop was everywhere, doing this and that, and Jack couldn’t tell if Dad was trying to help or trying to get in the way.
Pop finally sent Dad and Jack off to the mall, saying Jack should get a haircut. Dad and Jack both thought a haircut was a lame idea, so they had ice cream instead. When they got back home, Aunt Lisa was there and Pop was appreciably calmer.
After a quick lunch and an argument over what Jack should wear to the party (why did Pop always want him to wear a tie?), they were almost ready for the guests to arrive. Dad pulled Jack aside for a quick talk.
“OK, let’s go over this again. What’s the rule?”
“We don’t talk about our family.” Jack sighed, but Dad’s expression remained stern.
“What are you going to call me during this party?
“House.”
“Right. You’ll tell people I’m your father’s friend.”
Jack sighed again and fidgeted. His new shirt was kind of stiff. “Dad, isn’t lying bad?”
“Of course, but that’s not a lie. We are friends. You’re just not going to mention that Wilson and I are something else as well.”
“OK, Dad. I mean, House.”
“Good boy. Let’s go grab a snack before your friends get here and devour it all.”
Teddy got there first, then Leo, and then a bunch of guys all together. They had some games, a cool scavenger hunt, and cake and ice cream before Pop started to look frazzled and insisted that all the boys had to stay outside for the rest of the party.
It wasn’t too hot, and Dad broke out the water guns, so being outside was just fine with Jack. He was standing with Teddy and Mark, watching their friend Neal follow Aunt Lisa around for some reason, when Leo came up to him.
“Ha ho!” said Leo. He had a funny way of talking sometimes.
Jack tried to give Leo the bored look Dad gave people he thought were dumb. “What?”
“Your dad is gay.” Leo was smiling, but it wasn’t that nice of a smile.
“What?” Jack repeated. It was very hard to keep the bored look going when his heart was starting to beat faster.
“I was just inside and went by the kitchen, and that old guy was kissing your dad. He’s gay.”
Mark and Teddy had moved a little bit away from Jack. They had been standing next to him; now they were more next to Leo.
“You must need new glasses, Leo. You didn’t see anything,” Jack said, but his voice was not as steady as he would have liked.
Now Teddy was smiling, and Mark was laughing. Teddy said, “If your dad’s gay, then you must be gay, too.”
“Cut it out.”
Mark, Teddy, and Leo had moved closer, and now they were all saying it together, “Gay! Gay! Gay!”
Jack knew he shouldn’t feel ashamed, but he did. He had to swallow to get rid of the lump in his throat.
“Gay!” the boys cried louder, and then suddenly Dad was there, impossibly tall. His knuckles were white, right hand clenched on his cane, left hand in a fist.
“Right, you’re all going home,” he said tightly.
“No!” Jack knew instinctively that that would make things worse.
“Jack, you’re in the middle of something you don’t understand.”
“They’re my friends. You can’t kick them out.”
“I’m not seeing friendly behavior here. They’re going.” Dad grabbed Teddy’s shirt collar.
The hurt and anger had grown beyond the capacity of Jack’s eight-year-old body, and the most hateful thing he could think of blew out: “You’re not my father!”
That rocked Dad. An enormous pain filled his eyes, and he slowly closed his eyelids as if to keep it from spilling out. His fingers slipped off Teddy’s collar. When his eyes opened again, less than a second later, his expression had moved on to simply grim, but the pain still danced around the shadows.
“I’m your father,” Pop said from behind Dad’s shoulder. All four boys turned to stare at him, startled by this new appearance. Truthfully, Jack was grateful to get away from the awful look in Dad’s eyes and the emotions in his own chest that he had no name for.
“You know the rules of this house, Jack. I hear shouting and name-calling, neither of which is how we conduct a conversation. I think a break is in order.” Pop pointed toward the house, and Jack’s friends started walking.
“You, too, Jack. Move it.” Jack didn’t even get a half-step before he felt Dad’s hand on his shoulder.
“Jack didn’t do anything wrong. You’re going to punish him, too?”
Pop’s jaw clenched and unclenched, and he looked straight into Dad’s eyes, although he spoke to Jack. “Jack, go in the house, and wait for me with your friends. Now.” Jack took off, hoping to catch up to Teddy before they got inside.
“House, let me handle this. I know what to do. Why don’t you grab Cuddy and get a water balloon game going with the rest of the boys?” Jack looked back and saw Dad stiffly nod to Pop before walking away.
Pop’s expression was firm, unsmiling, when he came into the living room. “Right. Everyone here needs to take a five-minute break and think about what just happened. I want you all in this room, but separated from each other. Teddy, you sit on the couch. Leo, take this chair; Mark, take that one.” The boys hurried to their seats; they had never heard Pop this stern before.
Pop left the room, and Jack was confused. Where was he supposed to sit? “Pop?”
Pop came back carrying a dining room chair. He put it down across from the couch. “Here, Jack. Sit. All of you stay seated, and no talking. I’ll be in the kitchen and I’ll come get you when time’s up.”
They sat silently for almost a minute. Jack was feeling ashamed. He didn’t start the argument with the guys, but that yelling at Dad was pretty bad.
He looked up at Teddy, who had a strange look on his face. Then Teddy smiled a mischievous smile and started kissing the back of his hand, trying to be funny. Leo snickered; Jack just stared.
“No talking,” Pop called from the kitchen.
Teddy was such a loser. He had to be paid back. Jack scowled and very slowly raised his middle finger. Leo and Mark both stared and then started snickering again, covering their mouths.
Teddy scowled back and raised his middle finger, too, pushing his hand toward Jack boldly. Jack couldn’t help it; he started to laugh at how crazy Teddy was, how crazy he himself was. He tried to keep it as quiet as he could.
Leo looked at Mark and gave the finger with both hands, one toward Teddy, one toward Jack. Mark shook so hard with laughter that he fell off his chair.
Pop came in the room and gave them all a severe look. “Mark, in your chair. No talking from any of you.” He pointed to each of them in turn. “You have two minutes left.”
Jack tried to be quiet, tried not to laugh, but every time he looked at Teddy, he couldn’t quite help himself. By the time Pop told them they should all go outside, Jack’s sides hurt from holding the laughter in. He pushed Teddy out the door, and won their race to the big tree in the middle of the yard.
***
Jack was in bed that night, fast asleep, and never heard the argument between Dad and Pop. This is how it went:
Wilson, I’ve been thinking.
Have you been thinking how’d you really like to do the dishes? Because that would help me out a lot.
Wilson, this is important. Sit.
What is it?
For Jack’s sake, we have to make some changes around here. He’s getting older, and he wants more people in his life. God knows why, it must be your influence, but there it is.
Where are you going with this?
So we have to think about, if he’s going to be meeting new people and wanting them to like him, how his home life will affect that. And it’s clear it’s not having the right impact now.
House, I’m totally lost. You normally get to the point a little faster.
OK, here’s the point: I’m going to move out.
What? Why would you say that?
Just what I was telling you. As Jack gets older, it’d be easier for him, better for him if he had a normal home life. Two dads is not normal. So, I’m going to move out.
This is the most unreal conversation we’ve ever had. And that is definitely saying something.
You’ll see; it’ll work out better for everyone.
What is so wrong with how things are today?
This is not the most conventional of lifestyles. It’s hardly even conventional for gay couples. My relationship with you is mostly in the closet, and I’m practically in the closet as a father for Jack.
Decisions I seem to recall you having a very large hand in making. And this is how you’re going to make it better for us? By deciding everything yourself, not giving us a say?
Jack is eight. He doesn’t get a say.
I’m not eight. Where am I in this discussion?
Wilson.
Don’t “Wilson” me. Where is all this coming from? Why now? What’s changed?
The boys today were attacking Jack.
Hassling him, sure.
They called him gay. They didn’t mean happy.
You’re offended by that? It’s just an insult kids use, like, I don’t know, “poopyhead.” It’s not right, but that’s how it goes. I probably called a friend that when I was a kid.
That’s all you heard, them calling him gay? You missed how that one kid, the gangly one with the glasses, saw me kissing you in the kitchen and concluded you were gay, and therefore Jack was gay? That’s what provoked the whole thing.
When did you kiss me in the kitchen today? That peck on the cheek? Leo probably didn’t even mean it, that he thought I was gay. It’s just something to rag on your friend about.
It was more vicious than that.
I don’t think it was. Jack’s not being bullied. We would have seen something before this, if that was the case.
Because we got so much advance notice when you got the shit kicked out of you.
That was three drunk idiots, five years ago. Not the same thing at all.
You could have died, Wilson. Because of something I said about who we are. And now we’ve - OK, I’ve twisted Jack into this code of silence, and it’s not in his nature.
He’s always been unusually mature. He’s discreet; he’s handling it fine.
And I’m not unusually mature, and I can’t trust myself to be discreet. It’s you. Put your hackles back down; I’m not blaming you. I’m just saying you do something to me. From the first minute we kissed, I - I just - I go crazy around you. I’ve been waiting for it to dampen down, to settle into something manageable, and it just hasn’t. I’m so crazy about you that sometimes I feel I’ll burst if I keep it all in.
That’s good! That’s love, you jerk.
I know what it is. But when it’s this powerful, it’s dangerous. We’ve seen the consequence, and that cannot happen to Jack. I won’t let it.
You’re being ridiculous. Fine. We can move somewhere safer, more ‘friendly’ to our kind of family. San Francisco, or Vermont, or Amsterdam. I don’t know; wherever you want.
This is Jack’s home! He has friends, and his activities, and his school. He’s doing well. We’re not moving him!
So instead, you’re leaving us.
This will work out much better for everyone. You’ll find a nice woman to get married to, and we’ll let her adopt Jack. Then I’ll just be Bio-Dad. People will understand that, it’s easy to explain, and I’ll get to see Jack, you know, whenever he has time.
And me? When will you see me?
It’s probably better that we don’t. See each other. Pick-ups and drop-offs, and maybe at work. Or I’ll switch jobs, maybe teach.
Are you forgetting that I love you? That I’ve built my life around loving you?
Your life wasn’t always that way. You can go back. You can... be normal.
You’re totally delusional. I can’t even talk to you any more, because you are making absolutely no sense.
You’ll see in time that I’m right. Jack deserves a normal home. You can give it to him. I can’t. So you will give it to him, you owe him that.
Insane. You must be in the midst of a psychotic break. Should I go get you some Haldol?
I’m right about this.
You always think you’re right, and you know what? Sometimes you just aren’t. We love each other, you and I, and we both love Jack. We’re his parents. How is that not the best environment for him to grow up in?
You love Jack? Really love him?
Of course, you idiot.
You’d sacrifice anything for him?
Yes. You know that.
This is the sacrifice you have to make. The sacrifice I have to make. It’s what will be best for Jack in the end.
I’m going to bed. You are not moving out. Come to bed with me, sleep on it, and in the morning we’ll laugh at how paranoid you were tonight.
No, I’m not sleepy yet. You go to bed. I’m going to read for a while.
***
The next morning, Jack was standing next to the big bed. He hadn’t been in their bedroom in a while. He remembered the bed being taller, but probably it was just that he used to be shorter.
“Pop?”
Pop was facing the side of the bed, and Jack, but was almost hidden in the blankets. He mumbled something but didn’t open his eyes.
“Pop?” Jack was reaching out a hand when Pop’s eyes finally opened.
“Jack? You’re supposed to knock before you come in here.” Pop’s eyes were trying hard to focus, but they weren’t there yet.
“The rule is knock when the door is closed.” They’d established that rule when Jack was four, after that time that he didn’t want to think about. “But the door’s open.”
He pointed toward the doorway. Pop rolled over just enough to see the door, and then rolled back toward Jack, closing his eyes again. “So it is.”
“Pop, where’s Dad?”
“Probably the bathroom.” Pop seemed very reluctant to open his eyes. Jack was getting annoyed.
“I checked your bathroom before I talked to you.”
“Try the kitchen.”
“Dad’s not anywhere in the house.”
Pop smiled and scooted over toward the middle of the bed. “Maybe he went out for a ride. You know he does that sometimes. Why don’t you go watch TV?”
Jack was really annoyed now. “If Dad went for a ride, why did he take all his books with him?”
Pop’s eyes flew open, and he looked straight into Jack’s face. “What?”
“Dad’s books are all gone from the living room.”
Pop was out of the bed so fast he looked like a superhero. He ran into the living room in just his underwear.
Jack followed behind, getting nervous.
“That bastard,” Pop was saying, as he looked at the four nearly empty bookcases in the living room and the folded rolling cart by the door.
Jack was definitely nervous now. “Where is Dad? What’s happening?’
“It’s OK, Jack. Don’t worry. I’ll… go get him. He’s been a little anxious lately, and just…” Pop was moving around the room, picking stuff up, putting it down, touching the books that were lying haphazardly on the shelves.
“So, if that’s the plan, that I’m going to go find your father, then what do we need to do to make that happen?” Pop was distracted. Jack couldn’t tell if he was talking to himself or to Jack.
“We need someone to stay with you; that’s the first thing.” Pop turned toward Jack and smiled, but his eyes were still glancing over different parts of the room. “Your Aunt Lisa, that’s who we’ll call.”
Jack’s knees felt funny, his head felt dizzy, and he decided it was time to sit. He chose the coffee table, which was right in the middle of everything.
“Cuddy, can you come over?” Pop was saying into the phone. “I have to, um, run an errand, and need you to stay with Jack. I don’t really know how long it’ll be, maybe a couple of hours, hopefully less. Yeah, OK, we’ll see you in a few.”
Pop put the phone down on a bookcase shelf. Jack hoped they’d remember where it was later.
“So what’s next?” Pop looked at Jack and then down at himself. “Hey, clothes, that’s something we can do. Jack, go get dressed, and I will too. Who do you think will change faster?”
Jack didn’t want to move.
“Where’s Dad?”
“Well, I don’t know exactly, but I’m going to go find him and bring him home, and then everything will be fine. But I can’t do that unless I have clothes on, and I can’t get clothes on unless you race me, so let’s go.”
Jack reluctantly got up and walked to his room. Pop was being so strange. And Dad’s books being gone just did not feel right. Jack pulled a random shirt and a random pair of shorts out of his drawer and shoved them on.
When he got back to the living room, Pop looked like he had randomly picked his clothes, too. His shorts were bright green, and his t-shirt, which was really Dad’s shirt, was yellow with a purple design.
Pop was pacing and still talking, but it was clear he was talking to himself, so Jack didn’t listen. He took his seat on the coffee table and waited.
When the doorbell rang, it was a relief. Pop finally, finally stopped talking and went to answer the door.
“Cuddy, all right, good. Thank you for coming by so early.” Aunt Lisa was staring at Pop’s clothes but he didn’t seem to notice.
“It’s fine, but where is House? Why isn’t he watching Jack?”
Pop rubbed the back of his neck and wouldn’t look Aunt Lisa in the eye. “It’s a long story.”
“Oh, wait a minute. That’s right. He told me at the end of Jack’s party that he was taking the week off to go to a pain management seminar.” Aunt Lisa rolled her eyes. “Thanks for the notice, House.”
“He told you yesterday?” Pop fell heavily into a chair and put his face in his hands. “That bastard. He never even intended to listen to me.”
Aunt Lisa was looking worried. “Wilson - James, are you crying?”
“No,” Pop lied.
“I’m guessing from your reaction that House is not at a pain management seminar?”
“Pain management.” Pop wiped his face and brought his head up to look at Aunt Lisa. “That might be some actual irony right there. Pain management.”
“Do you think he’s going to do something -” Aunt Lisa looked at Jack and then back to Pop.
“To himself? No. He’s just going to stomp all over me.”
Jack wanted to touch Pop, to hug him, but he was afraid he’d crack him, that he’d break into pieces like Humpty Dumpty and never get put back together again.
“James, I’m sorry, but I’m not quite following what you’re saying.” Aunt Lisa’s face was soft, and the prettiest Jack had ever seen it.
Pop exploded out of the chair. “He left me, Lisa! He left me!” Pop covered his face again and let out a sob, and then another and another. Jack wanted to run away, he was so frightened by the intensity of Pop’s reaction.
Aunt Lisa put a hand out towards Pop, but he was too far away for her to reach. “What happened?”
“What happened?” Pop was breathing hard, trying to stop crying so he could talk. “I got myself beaten up by assholes five years ago, that’s what happened.” He brought his hands down to his sides and curled them into fists.
“You know, I don’t ever think about them,” he continued. “They’re not important, so I forget them, but he never does. They haunt him.” Pop squeezed his eyes shut and then opened them again. The pain in his face was scary.
“And then yesterday, and the taunting, and I think he must have snapped. The ghosts got him.”
Oh no, not yesterday. Jack had been mean to Dad yesterday. “Pop? Yesterday? Dad left because of me?”
“No. Absolutely not.” Pop blew out a breath and rubbed at his nose before turning more fully towards Jack. “In fact, Dad didn’t leave you; he’s never going to leave you. You’ll see, some time this morning he’ll call and talk to you. Explain something, at least part of this, to you. He loves you so much, and so do I.” Jack flew at Pop then and hugged him as tight as he could. Pop’s hands were warm as they caressed Jack’s head, but he seemed maybe too limp to really hug back.
“Lisa, would you mind staying with Jack for a while? Get him some breakfast, maybe play cards with him or something.”
“Sure. I said I would; I’m happy to.” Aunt Lisa was by them now, rubbing Pop’s arm and Jack’s back. “Are you going out now?”
“No, I feel the need to go back to bed.” Pop patted Jack’s head once and then left the room, not looking back.
Pop had been right. About an hour later, during Jack’s third game of dominos with Aunt Lisa, Dad called.
“Jack?” he asked, and Jack felt like it had been a month since he’d seen Dad last.
“Where are you, Dad?”
“I’m taking a quick vacation. I’ll be back to New Jersey by Friday, and I’ll try to see you after school then.”
“Why did you take all your books on your vacation? You made Pop cry.”
“I’m sorry about that. Did I make you cry?”
Jack started drawing lines on the kitchen table with his fingers. He made a tic-tac-toe board. “No. So you’re coming home Friday?”
“I need to talk to you about that. Is Wilson in the room with you?”
“No, he’s in bed. Aunt Lisa is here. She’s looking at me. I think she wants to talk to you.” X’s were winning in his tic-tac-toe game.
“I’ll call her later. I need to talk to you now.” Dad drew in a long breath, then blew it out quickly. “When I get back to New Jersey, I’m going to start living in a new place. It’ll have a bedroom for you, but you’re mostly going to live with Wilson in the house.”
Jack could barely get his voice above a whisper. “I’m sorry I said you weren’t my father.”
“I deserved it. That’s pretty much what I had told you to say, which was not fair at all to you. I’m going to fix that, OK? Once I’m not living with -” He stopped for a second. “Once I’m living somewhere else, then we’ll be able to change things around some. It’ll be better for you.”
“You and Pop said broccoli would be better for me, and I don’t like it at all.”
Dad laughed, one quick “ha” that mostly came through his nose. “This is going to work out better than broccoli. Trust me.”
Jack tried hard not to cry. “I want you to come home.”
“I’ll see you on Friday. And after that, you can come see me whenever you want. I won’t be far.”
“Dad…”
“I love you, Jack. I have to go. Tell Cuddy I’ll call her later.”
“Wait! Dad, what about Pop?”
“I’ll see you after school on Friday, Jack. Goodbye.”
The click on the line surprised Jack, and he dropped the receiver on the table. Aunt Lisa reached over and grabbed it. “House? House!” she yelled, but Jack could hear the dial tone from his chair.
She hung up the phone and looked at Jack with a mixture of curiosity and sympathy. It was too tender of an expression, and Jack had to look away.
“Did House say where he was?” Aunt Lisa’s hands were tight around her coffee cup.
“No. He said he would call you later. I want to go see Pop.”
“I’m sure he’d like that. Tell him I have an appointment at noon that I can’t get out of, but I’ll stay until then.” She got up and started doing the dishes.
Pop wasn’t asleep when Jack knocked on his door. He let Jack come in, and Jack crawled onto the bed with him. Pop had stopped crying, but his face looked terrible, blotchy red and white. The dark circles under his eyes reminded Jack of the time Pop had been in the hospital. Those bruises had been nasty and awful, but this today was the worst Jack had seen Pop’s face since.
They didn’t say a word, just held each other until Aunt Lisa came to the doorway and said she had to leave. Pop got up calmly, thanked her, and went in the kitchen to make lunch.
Jack stared at the TV for the rest of the day and tried not to listen to Pop cry.
***
Dad kept his word and came by that Friday afternoon, before Pop got home from work. He’d gone to a bunch of museums while he was away and told Jack all about them as he packed his clothes. Jack didn’t care but he listened anyway. It gave him a good excuse to stay close to Dad, so close that Dad tripped over him three times. Dad never scolded him, though, never told him to step back.
At five o’clock, Dad asked Marjorie to take his suitcases and boxes to the car for him. When she was gone, Dad hugged Jack and kissed the top of his head.
“You can come see me tomorrow,” he said. “Whatever time works for you.”
“I have soccer in the morning.”
“Fortunately, my soccer team disbanded, so my schedule is wide open. Just tell me when to pick you up, and I’ll be here.”
“We have a pizza lunch afterwards. You can come to that.”
Dad’s smile was strange; it only seemed to be on one half of his face. “Another time. Wilson and I really shouldn’t see each other right now.”
“Why don’t you love Pop any more?”
Dad’s smile went away, came back, switched sides of his face. “I will love Wilson until the day I die, but I have to do what’s best for you. This is best; you’ll see.”
Jack looked at his feet. He didn’t know what to say.
Dad rubbed Jack’s head once and said, “See you soon.” Then he was gone. Jack kept looking at his feet until Marjorie made him wash up for dinner.
***
It took a while for them to get into a routine after Dad left. Like trying to walk without your cane, Jack guessed. School was pretty much the same, but he found it hard to concentrate. He cheated on a test for the first time, because he’d forgotten to read the textbook. He cheated off of Teddy, which was really stupid, so he got a C anyway. When he brought the test home, Pop looked at it and shrugged, with a little smile. “Guess you can’t have an A on every test, Jack. Bound to happen at some point.”
Marjorie was mostly the same, too, although she got frustrated with Pop’s schedule. It had become pretty unpredictable. Some days he was home before Jack got home from school; other days he would stay at the hospital until after Jack had gone to bed.
“I have a life,” she said to Pop, in her “you are a naughty boy” voice.
“Should I hire someone else?” Pop replied coldly.
“I never say anything to you about running your family. Not my business. But your son needs you. You have to hold it together for him.”
“Thank you, Marjorie.” Pop was still cold, sarcastic. “I never would have known if you hadn’t been here.” Marjorie looked at him, hard, but he had too much experience with Dad’s intense gazes, and it just bounced off.
Dad’s new apartment was small, but OK. He bought Jack a tall bookshelf all for himself and challenged him to fill it with everything he wanted to read. Jack filled it within the month.
Eventually, things evened out more. There was a rhythm to the days and weeks. Days at school, afternoons with Marjorie, evenings with Pop. Weekends there were sports, friends, birthday parties, time with Dad. Dad even started coming to some school events. He would always come late, and always be in the back, but Jack saw him there.
Jack and Pop were watching a DVD one Friday night, after a normal week, when something just broke inside Jack.
“When can Dad come home?”
Pop sucked in a breath, then let it out slowly. He kept looking at the TV. “Jack, he’s welcome back any time, but he won’t come. You have to accept that he’s not going to live with us any more. With me.” Pop turned to look at him. “You can live with him in his apartment if you want. I’d miss you terribly, but you can.”
“But can’t you make him come home?” He didn’t want to sound like a whining baby, but there had to be something Pop could do.
“Jack, I can’t make him do anything. Nobody can make him. He left because of his own baggage. Do you know what that word means?”
Jack was a little confused. “Suitcases?”
“That’s one meaning, but I’m using it to say - Dad left because of his own emotions, his own thoughts, his own fears. Unless those change, he won’t come back.”
“Maybe we can make him change.”
“I’ve known him more than twice as long as you have - he won’t change. We have to love him the way he is.” Pop patted Jack’s leg and left the couch. He didn’t come back until it was time for Jack to go to bed.
***
Jack spent most of his Saturday and Sunday nights at Dad’s. He had never really thought about what Pop did during that time. He found out when he was eleven.
“I have some big news for you, Jack,” Pop said one Saturday morning over pancakes.
“What, Pop?” Jack mumbled around his mouthful of food.
“You know my friend, Miss Elaine.”
Jack nodded, but he was paying much more attention to the pancakes. Half were cranberry and half were blueberry, and they were so good.
Pop cleared his throat. “This is important, Jack. Elaine and I are going to get married.”
Jack’s mouth opened, and he had to grab with his hand to keep food from falling out. The clatter of his fork as it hit his plate was loud. “You can’t get married. What about Dad?”
Pop’s smile was sad. “We haven’t lived together for three years, Jack. I’m tired of being alone. And Elaine is nice; you’ll really like her when you get to know her better.”
“She’s not nice; I won’t like her.” He knew he sounded petulant, but that’s how he felt.
“Don’t you sound a lot like your other father.” Pop was amused now, and that pissed Jack off more.
“Even if Dad doesn’t live here, he’s still family!”
“Of course he is. Elaine knows about him, and about you. She knows that she’s marrying me, but she’s committing to you, too.” Pop looked Jack in the eye, looking for something. Maybe he wanted permission, but Jack didn’t feel ready to give it.
“And, in some strange way, coming into our family involves commitment to your Dad as well. She knows that.”
Jack picked up his fork and went back to eating his pancakes. They didn’t taste that good any more.
The wedding was two months later. Jack grudgingly had to admit that Elaine looked beautiful in her ivory suit. He stood next to Pop under the chuppah and wished he was younger so that he could hold Pop’s hand.
Dad was there, in the back, just like at school events. He came to the reception, too. Whenever someone would talk to him, he would smile as if the wedding had made him happy, but there was something strange in his eyes that Jack couldn’t identify.
While Pop and Elaine were on their honeymoon, Jack got to spend the whole week with Dad. They ate terrible food and watched terrible television, and one day Dad let Jack skip school and go to work with him instead.
Dad’s office was the same as always, but he had two new doctors working for him, and that made him cranky.
“This coffee is horrible,” he yelled at the female doctor.
“Sorry, I missed the seminar on java brewing because I was actually practicing procedures.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and went back to reading the patient’s file.
“Leave the snappy comebacks to the professionals,” Dad responded. “Jack, leave the whiteboard alone. It’s not for drawing.”
“I’m not drawing, Dad. I’m just fixing the words. Someone misspelled ‘hemorrhage,’ and ‘intercranial’ is wrong too. That would mean ‘in between two heads.’ ‘Intracranial’ is the right word.”
The male doctor, who looked like he was just pretending to be a doctor, said, “Your kid’s eleven, and he knows how to spell ‘hemorrhage’?”
“Of course. He’s my kid. How could you expect anything different?”
Dad poked Jack with his cane lightly, and Jack smiled as he put the cap back on the marker.
***
When Jack was twelve, Dad went away for a month. At first, they had told Jack it was a vacation, but then Pop finally admitted Dad was trying an experimental treatment for pain.
Jack was alarmed. “Aren’t experimental things usually dangerous? Why can’t he just keep doing what he’s doing now for the pain?”
Pop smiled and patted Jack on the arm. “For a long time, that’s what he did: stuck to one pain regimen. He finally agreed that it’s too hard on his organs, and he needs to switch things up, try something new. The potential for benefit is a lot higher than the risks.”
“He doesn’t change his mind very much about things like that. Why did he change it now?”
“Because he wants to see as much of your life as he can.”
(Continued)
(Back)
Jack’s birthday was in August. It was a hard time of year to get friends to come to your birthday party; everyone always seemed to be away on vacation. So, the year that Jack turned eight, Pop let him send out twelve invitations.
All twelve boys accepted. Pop did not take it very well.
Jack overheard Pop and Dad talking in the kitchen one day about the party.
“All right, it’s on Saturday, so we’re five days out,” Pop said. “Decorations, food, gift bags: I think I’m on track with everything. Cuddy finally agreed this morning that she’ll come over and help. Everything’s going to be fine, right?” Pop was sounding harassed.
“OK, Martha Stewart. They’re just boys; they won’t care.”
“Oh, but their mothers will care. You’re lucky I’m a simple guy; you don’t know how competitive these things can get.”
Dad’s amusement was clear in his voice. “You are such a woman!”
“Oh, shut up. You’re not the one who has to face these women at PTA meetings. They can be cliquish; they can make things difficult if they decide to. I need them on my side.”
“PTA politics. So sexy.”
“Cut that out, and help me with this list of activities. What about pin the tail on the donkey?”
“Jack and his friends are eight, not three. And did you say this was next Saturday? I’m not going to be here; I’ve got a thing.”
“Oh, you are going to be here. We’re having twelve eight-year-olds in this house.”
“You and Cuddy can handle it.”
“Twelve eight-year-old boys! That’s about the equivalent of a hundred adults. You’re staying and you’re helping. Now come up with another activity.”
“I’m thinking of a pretty good activity right now. Not really for children, though.”
“Did I not tell you to cut that out? What are you doing? No! No, no, no.” Pop was laughing now. Obviously, Dad had started Tickle Fingers. Jack enjoyed a good game of Tickle Fingers, but it was kind of weird when Dad did it to Pop. Dad’s eyes would get real narrow and Pop’s would get real wide, and Jack would have to leave the room. Which he did right now, even though Pop and Dad hadn’t seen him. Maybe he’d finish up some homework.
That Saturday morning was a busy one. Pop was everywhere, doing this and that, and Jack couldn’t tell if Dad was trying to help or trying to get in the way.
Pop finally sent Dad and Jack off to the mall, saying Jack should get a haircut. Dad and Jack both thought a haircut was a lame idea, so they had ice cream instead. When they got back home, Aunt Lisa was there and Pop was appreciably calmer.
After a quick lunch and an argument over what Jack should wear to the party (why did Pop always want him to wear a tie?), they were almost ready for the guests to arrive. Dad pulled Jack aside for a quick talk.
“OK, let’s go over this again. What’s the rule?”
“We don’t talk about our family.” Jack sighed, but Dad’s expression remained stern.
“What are you going to call me during this party?
“House.”
“Right. You’ll tell people I’m your father’s friend.”
Jack sighed again and fidgeted. His new shirt was kind of stiff. “Dad, isn’t lying bad?”
“Of course, but that’s not a lie. We are friends. You’re just not going to mention that Wilson and I are something else as well.”
“OK, Dad. I mean, House.”
“Good boy. Let’s go grab a snack before your friends get here and devour it all.”
Teddy got there first, then Leo, and then a bunch of guys all together. They had some games, a cool scavenger hunt, and cake and ice cream before Pop started to look frazzled and insisted that all the boys had to stay outside for the rest of the party.
It wasn’t too hot, and Dad broke out the water guns, so being outside was just fine with Jack. He was standing with Teddy and Mark, watching their friend Neal follow Aunt Lisa around for some reason, when Leo came up to him.
“Ha ho!” said Leo. He had a funny way of talking sometimes.
Jack tried to give Leo the bored look Dad gave people he thought were dumb. “What?”
“Your dad is gay.” Leo was smiling, but it wasn’t that nice of a smile.
“What?” Jack repeated. It was very hard to keep the bored look going when his heart was starting to beat faster.
“I was just inside and went by the kitchen, and that old guy was kissing your dad. He’s gay.”
Mark and Teddy had moved a little bit away from Jack. They had been standing next to him; now they were more next to Leo.
“You must need new glasses, Leo. You didn’t see anything,” Jack said, but his voice was not as steady as he would have liked.
Now Teddy was smiling, and Mark was laughing. Teddy said, “If your dad’s gay, then you must be gay, too.”
“Cut it out.”
Mark, Teddy, and Leo had moved closer, and now they were all saying it together, “Gay! Gay! Gay!”
Jack knew he shouldn’t feel ashamed, but he did. He had to swallow to get rid of the lump in his throat.
“Gay!” the boys cried louder, and then suddenly Dad was there, impossibly tall. His knuckles were white, right hand clenched on his cane, left hand in a fist.
“Right, you’re all going home,” he said tightly.
“No!” Jack knew instinctively that that would make things worse.
“Jack, you’re in the middle of something you don’t understand.”
“They’re my friends. You can’t kick them out.”
“I’m not seeing friendly behavior here. They’re going.” Dad grabbed Teddy’s shirt collar.
The hurt and anger had grown beyond the capacity of Jack’s eight-year-old body, and the most hateful thing he could think of blew out: “You’re not my father!”
That rocked Dad. An enormous pain filled his eyes, and he slowly closed his eyelids as if to keep it from spilling out. His fingers slipped off Teddy’s collar. When his eyes opened again, less than a second later, his expression had moved on to simply grim, but the pain still danced around the shadows.
“I’m your father,” Pop said from behind Dad’s shoulder. All four boys turned to stare at him, startled by this new appearance. Truthfully, Jack was grateful to get away from the awful look in Dad’s eyes and the emotions in his own chest that he had no name for.
“You know the rules of this house, Jack. I hear shouting and name-calling, neither of which is how we conduct a conversation. I think a break is in order.” Pop pointed toward the house, and Jack’s friends started walking.
“You, too, Jack. Move it.” Jack didn’t even get a half-step before he felt Dad’s hand on his shoulder.
“Jack didn’t do anything wrong. You’re going to punish him, too?”
Pop’s jaw clenched and unclenched, and he looked straight into Dad’s eyes, although he spoke to Jack. “Jack, go in the house, and wait for me with your friends. Now.” Jack took off, hoping to catch up to Teddy before they got inside.
“House, let me handle this. I know what to do. Why don’t you grab Cuddy and get a water balloon game going with the rest of the boys?” Jack looked back and saw Dad stiffly nod to Pop before walking away.
Pop’s expression was firm, unsmiling, when he came into the living room. “Right. Everyone here needs to take a five-minute break and think about what just happened. I want you all in this room, but separated from each other. Teddy, you sit on the couch. Leo, take this chair; Mark, take that one.” The boys hurried to their seats; they had never heard Pop this stern before.
Pop left the room, and Jack was confused. Where was he supposed to sit? “Pop?”
Pop came back carrying a dining room chair. He put it down across from the couch. “Here, Jack. Sit. All of you stay seated, and no talking. I’ll be in the kitchen and I’ll come get you when time’s up.”
They sat silently for almost a minute. Jack was feeling ashamed. He didn’t start the argument with the guys, but that yelling at Dad was pretty bad.
He looked up at Teddy, who had a strange look on his face. Then Teddy smiled a mischievous smile and started kissing the back of his hand, trying to be funny. Leo snickered; Jack just stared.
“No talking,” Pop called from the kitchen.
Teddy was such a loser. He had to be paid back. Jack scowled and very slowly raised his middle finger. Leo and Mark both stared and then started snickering again, covering their mouths.
Teddy scowled back and raised his middle finger, too, pushing his hand toward Jack boldly. Jack couldn’t help it; he started to laugh at how crazy Teddy was, how crazy he himself was. He tried to keep it as quiet as he could.
Leo looked at Mark and gave the finger with both hands, one toward Teddy, one toward Jack. Mark shook so hard with laughter that he fell off his chair.
Pop came in the room and gave them all a severe look. “Mark, in your chair. No talking from any of you.” He pointed to each of them in turn. “You have two minutes left.”
Jack tried to be quiet, tried not to laugh, but every time he looked at Teddy, he couldn’t quite help himself. By the time Pop told them they should all go outside, Jack’s sides hurt from holding the laughter in. He pushed Teddy out the door, and won their race to the big tree in the middle of the yard.
***
Jack was in bed that night, fast asleep, and never heard the argument between Dad and Pop. This is how it went:
Wilson, I’ve been thinking.
Have you been thinking how’d you really like to do the dishes? Because that would help me out a lot.
Wilson, this is important. Sit.
What is it?
For Jack’s sake, we have to make some changes around here. He’s getting older, and he wants more people in his life. God knows why, it must be your influence, but there it is.
Where are you going with this?
So we have to think about, if he’s going to be meeting new people and wanting them to like him, how his home life will affect that. And it’s clear it’s not having the right impact now.
House, I’m totally lost. You normally get to the point a little faster.
OK, here’s the point: I’m going to move out.
What? Why would you say that?
Just what I was telling you. As Jack gets older, it’d be easier for him, better for him if he had a normal home life. Two dads is not normal. So, I’m going to move out.
This is the most unreal conversation we’ve ever had. And that is definitely saying something.
You’ll see; it’ll work out better for everyone.
What is so wrong with how things are today?
This is not the most conventional of lifestyles. It’s hardly even conventional for gay couples. My relationship with you is mostly in the closet, and I’m practically in the closet as a father for Jack.
Decisions I seem to recall you having a very large hand in making. And this is how you’re going to make it better for us? By deciding everything yourself, not giving us a say?
Jack is eight. He doesn’t get a say.
I’m not eight. Where am I in this discussion?
Wilson.
Don’t “Wilson” me. Where is all this coming from? Why now? What’s changed?
The boys today were attacking Jack.
Hassling him, sure.
They called him gay. They didn’t mean happy.
You’re offended by that? It’s just an insult kids use, like, I don’t know, “poopyhead.” It’s not right, but that’s how it goes. I probably called a friend that when I was a kid.
That’s all you heard, them calling him gay? You missed how that one kid, the gangly one with the glasses, saw me kissing you in the kitchen and concluded you were gay, and therefore Jack was gay? That’s what provoked the whole thing.
When did you kiss me in the kitchen today? That peck on the cheek? Leo probably didn’t even mean it, that he thought I was gay. It’s just something to rag on your friend about.
It was more vicious than that.
I don’t think it was. Jack’s not being bullied. We would have seen something before this, if that was the case.
Because we got so much advance notice when you got the shit kicked out of you.
That was three drunk idiots, five years ago. Not the same thing at all.
You could have died, Wilson. Because of something I said about who we are. And now we’ve - OK, I’ve twisted Jack into this code of silence, and it’s not in his nature.
He’s always been unusually mature. He’s discreet; he’s handling it fine.
And I’m not unusually mature, and I can’t trust myself to be discreet. It’s you. Put your hackles back down; I’m not blaming you. I’m just saying you do something to me. From the first minute we kissed, I - I just - I go crazy around you. I’ve been waiting for it to dampen down, to settle into something manageable, and it just hasn’t. I’m so crazy about you that sometimes I feel I’ll burst if I keep it all in.
That’s good! That’s love, you jerk.
I know what it is. But when it’s this powerful, it’s dangerous. We’ve seen the consequence, and that cannot happen to Jack. I won’t let it.
You’re being ridiculous. Fine. We can move somewhere safer, more ‘friendly’ to our kind of family. San Francisco, or Vermont, or Amsterdam. I don’t know; wherever you want.
This is Jack’s home! He has friends, and his activities, and his school. He’s doing well. We’re not moving him!
So instead, you’re leaving us.
This will work out much better for everyone. You’ll find a nice woman to get married to, and we’ll let her adopt Jack. Then I’ll just be Bio-Dad. People will understand that, it’s easy to explain, and I’ll get to see Jack, you know, whenever he has time.
And me? When will you see me?
It’s probably better that we don’t. See each other. Pick-ups and drop-offs, and maybe at work. Or I’ll switch jobs, maybe teach.
Are you forgetting that I love you? That I’ve built my life around loving you?
Your life wasn’t always that way. You can go back. You can... be normal.
You’re totally delusional. I can’t even talk to you any more, because you are making absolutely no sense.
You’ll see in time that I’m right. Jack deserves a normal home. You can give it to him. I can’t. So you will give it to him, you owe him that.
Insane. You must be in the midst of a psychotic break. Should I go get you some Haldol?
I’m right about this.
You always think you’re right, and you know what? Sometimes you just aren’t. We love each other, you and I, and we both love Jack. We’re his parents. How is that not the best environment for him to grow up in?
You love Jack? Really love him?
Of course, you idiot.
You’d sacrifice anything for him?
Yes. You know that.
This is the sacrifice you have to make. The sacrifice I have to make. It’s what will be best for Jack in the end.
I’m going to bed. You are not moving out. Come to bed with me, sleep on it, and in the morning we’ll laugh at how paranoid you were tonight.
No, I’m not sleepy yet. You go to bed. I’m going to read for a while.
***
The next morning, Jack was standing next to the big bed. He hadn’t been in their bedroom in a while. He remembered the bed being taller, but probably it was just that he used to be shorter.
“Pop?”
Pop was facing the side of the bed, and Jack, but was almost hidden in the blankets. He mumbled something but didn’t open his eyes.
“Pop?” Jack was reaching out a hand when Pop’s eyes finally opened.
“Jack? You’re supposed to knock before you come in here.” Pop’s eyes were trying hard to focus, but they weren’t there yet.
“The rule is knock when the door is closed.” They’d established that rule when Jack was four, after that time that he didn’t want to think about. “But the door’s open.”
He pointed toward the doorway. Pop rolled over just enough to see the door, and then rolled back toward Jack, closing his eyes again. “So it is.”
“Pop, where’s Dad?”
“Probably the bathroom.” Pop seemed very reluctant to open his eyes. Jack was getting annoyed.
“I checked your bathroom before I talked to you.”
“Try the kitchen.”
“Dad’s not anywhere in the house.”
Pop smiled and scooted over toward the middle of the bed. “Maybe he went out for a ride. You know he does that sometimes. Why don’t you go watch TV?”
Jack was really annoyed now. “If Dad went for a ride, why did he take all his books with him?”
Pop’s eyes flew open, and he looked straight into Jack’s face. “What?”
“Dad’s books are all gone from the living room.”
Pop was out of the bed so fast he looked like a superhero. He ran into the living room in just his underwear.
Jack followed behind, getting nervous.
“That bastard,” Pop was saying, as he looked at the four nearly empty bookcases in the living room and the folded rolling cart by the door.
Jack was definitely nervous now. “Where is Dad? What’s happening?’
“It’s OK, Jack. Don’t worry. I’ll… go get him. He’s been a little anxious lately, and just…” Pop was moving around the room, picking stuff up, putting it down, touching the books that were lying haphazardly on the shelves.
“So, if that’s the plan, that I’m going to go find your father, then what do we need to do to make that happen?” Pop was distracted. Jack couldn’t tell if he was talking to himself or to Jack.
“We need someone to stay with you; that’s the first thing.” Pop turned toward Jack and smiled, but his eyes were still glancing over different parts of the room. “Your Aunt Lisa, that’s who we’ll call.”
Jack’s knees felt funny, his head felt dizzy, and he decided it was time to sit. He chose the coffee table, which was right in the middle of everything.
“Cuddy, can you come over?” Pop was saying into the phone. “I have to, um, run an errand, and need you to stay with Jack. I don’t really know how long it’ll be, maybe a couple of hours, hopefully less. Yeah, OK, we’ll see you in a few.”
Pop put the phone down on a bookcase shelf. Jack hoped they’d remember where it was later.
“So what’s next?” Pop looked at Jack and then down at himself. “Hey, clothes, that’s something we can do. Jack, go get dressed, and I will too. Who do you think will change faster?”
Jack didn’t want to move.
“Where’s Dad?”
“Well, I don’t know exactly, but I’m going to go find him and bring him home, and then everything will be fine. But I can’t do that unless I have clothes on, and I can’t get clothes on unless you race me, so let’s go.”
Jack reluctantly got up and walked to his room. Pop was being so strange. And Dad’s books being gone just did not feel right. Jack pulled a random shirt and a random pair of shorts out of his drawer and shoved them on.
When he got back to the living room, Pop looked like he had randomly picked his clothes, too. His shorts were bright green, and his t-shirt, which was really Dad’s shirt, was yellow with a purple design.
Pop was pacing and still talking, but it was clear he was talking to himself, so Jack didn’t listen. He took his seat on the coffee table and waited.
When the doorbell rang, it was a relief. Pop finally, finally stopped talking and went to answer the door.
“Cuddy, all right, good. Thank you for coming by so early.” Aunt Lisa was staring at Pop’s clothes but he didn’t seem to notice.
“It’s fine, but where is House? Why isn’t he watching Jack?”
Pop rubbed the back of his neck and wouldn’t look Aunt Lisa in the eye. “It’s a long story.”
“Oh, wait a minute. That’s right. He told me at the end of Jack’s party that he was taking the week off to go to a pain management seminar.” Aunt Lisa rolled her eyes. “Thanks for the notice, House.”
“He told you yesterday?” Pop fell heavily into a chair and put his face in his hands. “That bastard. He never even intended to listen to me.”
Aunt Lisa was looking worried. “Wilson - James, are you crying?”
“No,” Pop lied.
“I’m guessing from your reaction that House is not at a pain management seminar?”
“Pain management.” Pop wiped his face and brought his head up to look at Aunt Lisa. “That might be some actual irony right there. Pain management.”
“Do you think he’s going to do something -” Aunt Lisa looked at Jack and then back to Pop.
“To himself? No. He’s just going to stomp all over me.”
Jack wanted to touch Pop, to hug him, but he was afraid he’d crack him, that he’d break into pieces like Humpty Dumpty and never get put back together again.
“James, I’m sorry, but I’m not quite following what you’re saying.” Aunt Lisa’s face was soft, and the prettiest Jack had ever seen it.
Pop exploded out of the chair. “He left me, Lisa! He left me!” Pop covered his face again and let out a sob, and then another and another. Jack wanted to run away, he was so frightened by the intensity of Pop’s reaction.
Aunt Lisa put a hand out towards Pop, but he was too far away for her to reach. “What happened?”
“What happened?” Pop was breathing hard, trying to stop crying so he could talk. “I got myself beaten up by assholes five years ago, that’s what happened.” He brought his hands down to his sides and curled them into fists.
“You know, I don’t ever think about them,” he continued. “They’re not important, so I forget them, but he never does. They haunt him.” Pop squeezed his eyes shut and then opened them again. The pain in his face was scary.
“And then yesterday, and the taunting, and I think he must have snapped. The ghosts got him.”
Oh no, not yesterday. Jack had been mean to Dad yesterday. “Pop? Yesterday? Dad left because of me?”
“No. Absolutely not.” Pop blew out a breath and rubbed at his nose before turning more fully towards Jack. “In fact, Dad didn’t leave you; he’s never going to leave you. You’ll see, some time this morning he’ll call and talk to you. Explain something, at least part of this, to you. He loves you so much, and so do I.” Jack flew at Pop then and hugged him as tight as he could. Pop’s hands were warm as they caressed Jack’s head, but he seemed maybe too limp to really hug back.
“Lisa, would you mind staying with Jack for a while? Get him some breakfast, maybe play cards with him or something.”
“Sure. I said I would; I’m happy to.” Aunt Lisa was by them now, rubbing Pop’s arm and Jack’s back. “Are you going out now?”
“No, I feel the need to go back to bed.” Pop patted Jack’s head once and then left the room, not looking back.
Pop had been right. About an hour later, during Jack’s third game of dominos with Aunt Lisa, Dad called.
“Jack?” he asked, and Jack felt like it had been a month since he’d seen Dad last.
“Where are you, Dad?”
“I’m taking a quick vacation. I’ll be back to New Jersey by Friday, and I’ll try to see you after school then.”
“Why did you take all your books on your vacation? You made Pop cry.”
“I’m sorry about that. Did I make you cry?”
Jack started drawing lines on the kitchen table with his fingers. He made a tic-tac-toe board. “No. So you’re coming home Friday?”
“I need to talk to you about that. Is Wilson in the room with you?”
“No, he’s in bed. Aunt Lisa is here. She’s looking at me. I think she wants to talk to you.” X’s were winning in his tic-tac-toe game.
“I’ll call her later. I need to talk to you now.” Dad drew in a long breath, then blew it out quickly. “When I get back to New Jersey, I’m going to start living in a new place. It’ll have a bedroom for you, but you’re mostly going to live with Wilson in the house.”
Jack could barely get his voice above a whisper. “I’m sorry I said you weren’t my father.”
“I deserved it. That’s pretty much what I had told you to say, which was not fair at all to you. I’m going to fix that, OK? Once I’m not living with -” He stopped for a second. “Once I’m living somewhere else, then we’ll be able to change things around some. It’ll be better for you.”
“You and Pop said broccoli would be better for me, and I don’t like it at all.”
Dad laughed, one quick “ha” that mostly came through his nose. “This is going to work out better than broccoli. Trust me.”
Jack tried hard not to cry. “I want you to come home.”
“I’ll see you on Friday. And after that, you can come see me whenever you want. I won’t be far.”
“Dad…”
“I love you, Jack. I have to go. Tell Cuddy I’ll call her later.”
“Wait! Dad, what about Pop?”
“I’ll see you after school on Friday, Jack. Goodbye.”
The click on the line surprised Jack, and he dropped the receiver on the table. Aunt Lisa reached over and grabbed it. “House? House!” she yelled, but Jack could hear the dial tone from his chair.
She hung up the phone and looked at Jack with a mixture of curiosity and sympathy. It was too tender of an expression, and Jack had to look away.
“Did House say where he was?” Aunt Lisa’s hands were tight around her coffee cup.
“No. He said he would call you later. I want to go see Pop.”
“I’m sure he’d like that. Tell him I have an appointment at noon that I can’t get out of, but I’ll stay until then.” She got up and started doing the dishes.
Pop wasn’t asleep when Jack knocked on his door. He let Jack come in, and Jack crawled onto the bed with him. Pop had stopped crying, but his face looked terrible, blotchy red and white. The dark circles under his eyes reminded Jack of the time Pop had been in the hospital. Those bruises had been nasty and awful, but this today was the worst Jack had seen Pop’s face since.
They didn’t say a word, just held each other until Aunt Lisa came to the doorway and said she had to leave. Pop got up calmly, thanked her, and went in the kitchen to make lunch.
Jack stared at the TV for the rest of the day and tried not to listen to Pop cry.
***
Dad kept his word and came by that Friday afternoon, before Pop got home from work. He’d gone to a bunch of museums while he was away and told Jack all about them as he packed his clothes. Jack didn’t care but he listened anyway. It gave him a good excuse to stay close to Dad, so close that Dad tripped over him three times. Dad never scolded him, though, never told him to step back.
At five o’clock, Dad asked Marjorie to take his suitcases and boxes to the car for him. When she was gone, Dad hugged Jack and kissed the top of his head.
“You can come see me tomorrow,” he said. “Whatever time works for you.”
“I have soccer in the morning.”
“Fortunately, my soccer team disbanded, so my schedule is wide open. Just tell me when to pick you up, and I’ll be here.”
“We have a pizza lunch afterwards. You can come to that.”
Dad’s smile was strange; it only seemed to be on one half of his face. “Another time. Wilson and I really shouldn’t see each other right now.”
“Why don’t you love Pop any more?”
Dad’s smile went away, came back, switched sides of his face. “I will love Wilson until the day I die, but I have to do what’s best for you. This is best; you’ll see.”
Jack looked at his feet. He didn’t know what to say.
Dad rubbed Jack’s head once and said, “See you soon.” Then he was gone. Jack kept looking at his feet until Marjorie made him wash up for dinner.
***
It took a while for them to get into a routine after Dad left. Like trying to walk without your cane, Jack guessed. School was pretty much the same, but he found it hard to concentrate. He cheated on a test for the first time, because he’d forgotten to read the textbook. He cheated off of Teddy, which was really stupid, so he got a C anyway. When he brought the test home, Pop looked at it and shrugged, with a little smile. “Guess you can’t have an A on every test, Jack. Bound to happen at some point.”
Marjorie was mostly the same, too, although she got frustrated with Pop’s schedule. It had become pretty unpredictable. Some days he was home before Jack got home from school; other days he would stay at the hospital until after Jack had gone to bed.
“I have a life,” she said to Pop, in her “you are a naughty boy” voice.
“Should I hire someone else?” Pop replied coldly.
“I never say anything to you about running your family. Not my business. But your son needs you. You have to hold it together for him.”
“Thank you, Marjorie.” Pop was still cold, sarcastic. “I never would have known if you hadn’t been here.” Marjorie looked at him, hard, but he had too much experience with Dad’s intense gazes, and it just bounced off.
Dad’s new apartment was small, but OK. He bought Jack a tall bookshelf all for himself and challenged him to fill it with everything he wanted to read. Jack filled it within the month.
Eventually, things evened out more. There was a rhythm to the days and weeks. Days at school, afternoons with Marjorie, evenings with Pop. Weekends there were sports, friends, birthday parties, time with Dad. Dad even started coming to some school events. He would always come late, and always be in the back, but Jack saw him there.
Jack and Pop were watching a DVD one Friday night, after a normal week, when something just broke inside Jack.
“When can Dad come home?”
Pop sucked in a breath, then let it out slowly. He kept looking at the TV. “Jack, he’s welcome back any time, but he won’t come. You have to accept that he’s not going to live with us any more. With me.” Pop turned to look at him. “You can live with him in his apartment if you want. I’d miss you terribly, but you can.”
“But can’t you make him come home?” He didn’t want to sound like a whining baby, but there had to be something Pop could do.
“Jack, I can’t make him do anything. Nobody can make him. He left because of his own baggage. Do you know what that word means?”
Jack was a little confused. “Suitcases?”
“That’s one meaning, but I’m using it to say - Dad left because of his own emotions, his own thoughts, his own fears. Unless those change, he won’t come back.”
“Maybe we can make him change.”
“I’ve known him more than twice as long as you have - he won’t change. We have to love him the way he is.” Pop patted Jack’s leg and left the couch. He didn’t come back until it was time for Jack to go to bed.
***
Jack spent most of his Saturday and Sunday nights at Dad’s. He had never really thought about what Pop did during that time. He found out when he was eleven.
“I have some big news for you, Jack,” Pop said one Saturday morning over pancakes.
“What, Pop?” Jack mumbled around his mouthful of food.
“You know my friend, Miss Elaine.”
Jack nodded, but he was paying much more attention to the pancakes. Half were cranberry and half were blueberry, and they were so good.
Pop cleared his throat. “This is important, Jack. Elaine and I are going to get married.”
Jack’s mouth opened, and he had to grab with his hand to keep food from falling out. The clatter of his fork as it hit his plate was loud. “You can’t get married. What about Dad?”
Pop’s smile was sad. “We haven’t lived together for three years, Jack. I’m tired of being alone. And Elaine is nice; you’ll really like her when you get to know her better.”
“She’s not nice; I won’t like her.” He knew he sounded petulant, but that’s how he felt.
“Don’t you sound a lot like your other father.” Pop was amused now, and that pissed Jack off more.
“Even if Dad doesn’t live here, he’s still family!”
“Of course he is. Elaine knows about him, and about you. She knows that she’s marrying me, but she’s committing to you, too.” Pop looked Jack in the eye, looking for something. Maybe he wanted permission, but Jack didn’t feel ready to give it.
“And, in some strange way, coming into our family involves commitment to your Dad as well. She knows that.”
Jack picked up his fork and went back to eating his pancakes. They didn’t taste that good any more.
The wedding was two months later. Jack grudgingly had to admit that Elaine looked beautiful in her ivory suit. He stood next to Pop under the chuppah and wished he was younger so that he could hold Pop’s hand.
Dad was there, in the back, just like at school events. He came to the reception, too. Whenever someone would talk to him, he would smile as if the wedding had made him happy, but there was something strange in his eyes that Jack couldn’t identify.
While Pop and Elaine were on their honeymoon, Jack got to spend the whole week with Dad. They ate terrible food and watched terrible television, and one day Dad let Jack skip school and go to work with him instead.
Dad’s office was the same as always, but he had two new doctors working for him, and that made him cranky.
“This coffee is horrible,” he yelled at the female doctor.
“Sorry, I missed the seminar on java brewing because I was actually practicing procedures.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and went back to reading the patient’s file.
“Leave the snappy comebacks to the professionals,” Dad responded. “Jack, leave the whiteboard alone. It’s not for drawing.”
“I’m not drawing, Dad. I’m just fixing the words. Someone misspelled ‘hemorrhage,’ and ‘intercranial’ is wrong too. That would mean ‘in between two heads.’ ‘Intracranial’ is the right word.”
The male doctor, who looked like he was just pretending to be a doctor, said, “Your kid’s eleven, and he knows how to spell ‘hemorrhage’?”
“Of course. He’s my kid. How could you expect anything different?”
Dad poked Jack with his cane lightly, and Jack smiled as he put the cap back on the marker.
***
When Jack was twelve, Dad went away for a month. At first, they had told Jack it was a vacation, but then Pop finally admitted Dad was trying an experimental treatment for pain.
Jack was alarmed. “Aren’t experimental things usually dangerous? Why can’t he just keep doing what he’s doing now for the pain?”
Pop smiled and patted Jack on the arm. “For a long time, that’s what he did: stuck to one pain regimen. He finally agreed that it’s too hard on his organs, and he needs to switch things up, try something new. The potential for benefit is a lot higher than the risks.”
“He doesn’t change his mind very much about things like that. Why did he change it now?”
“Because he wants to see as much of your life as he can.”
(Continued)