My Fathers' Son, 3/5 (PG)
My Fathers' Son, Part 3 of 5
(Back)
Jennifer Schwartz was the most beautiful girl in Jack’s class. He couldn’t imagine why she was at his Bar Mitzvah party. He especially couldn’t imagine why she was actually talking to him.
Her sweet “Hi” had taken his breath away. It was by luck only that he managed to reply coherently.
“Your mom is so sweet,” Jennifer continued. She gestured toward Elaine, who was playing the proud hostess, laughing and greeting each guest.
Jack only spared Elaine a momentary glance. It was hard to look directly at Jennifer, but it was even harder to look away.
“She’s my stepmother. My Pop married her two years ago. I guess she’s nice.”
“And your Pop is kind of handsome.”
Jack didn’t know what to say to that. He’d never thought about it one way or the other.
Jennifer took one step closer to him. He forgot to breathe for a moment.
“You look a lot like him.”
Jennifer smelled like flowers. Her hands looked so soft. When he dared to lift his eyes to her face, she was smiling at him. He had to swallow hard.
And then suddenly they weren’t alone.
“Luck of the draw, I assure you! The sperm genes are mine, not Wilson’s.”
“Dad!” Jack was mortified. Jennifer was staring at his Dad as if he were from another planet. “Um, Jennifer, this is my biological father. His name is House. I’m adopted, or I mean, I was adopted by my father. I mean, my Pop.”
“Of course, if it hadn’t been for schizophrenia and cystic fibrosis, it might have been the other way around.”
“Dad!” Jack glared at Dad, and flashed an embarrassed smile at Jennifer. “He’s just kidding. Um, bye.”
Jack pushed Dad away from the tables and out the door to the hall. Dad was chortling and pushing back against him, so he had to be careful not to make him trip. The need for caution calmed Jack down a bit and he was able to face Dad once they made it to a fairly private place.
“Dad! What about the rule that we don’t talk about our family?”
Dad regarded him with a look of clear amusement. “I’m going to have to argue a point of semantics with you there, Jack. The rule is you“ - he pressed one finger to Jack’s nose briefly but firmly - “don’t talk about your family. I’m an adult. I have the judgment to decide when it’s appropriate and when it’s not.”
“I don’t think it was really appropriate then,” Jack responded sourly. “And, anyway, that’s not how you said the rule the first time you told me, when Pop was in the hospital. You said, ‘We don’t talk about our family.’”
“When Wilson was in the hospital? You remember that?”
“Just some. Pop’s face was so bruised; I thought the colors were strange. And you said to me, ‘See, Jack, this is why we don’t talk about our family.’”
Dad’s face was pensive. He was looking just over Jack’s head, and then he traced Jack’s hairline with a finger, pushing the hair back out of the way.
Jack felt a little too old to have his hair stroked like that - he was a man today, after all - but he let it go. “And then you said something about a cauliflower tail. I never figured out what that meant.”
Dad had gently rubbed the back of Jack’s neck one time, and then brought his hand to Jack’s shoulder. He pressed down once, twice as he puzzled over this comment.
“I don’t remember saying anything about cauliflower.”
“I don’t know. Just another weird thing adults say. You wanted me to see the point of the cauliflower tail.”
The hand on Jack’s shoulder bore down on him sharply, as Dad shook with laughter. “Cautionary tale, that’s what I said. It was a cautionary tale, a lesson you needed to learn about danger.”
“Well, how was I supposed to know that?” Jack shoved Dad off him angrily, and stepped back. “I was only three.”
“I know.” Dad’s tone was conciliatory, and that was unusual enough for Jack to give him a look. “That was a rough time for all of us. You withstood it very, very well for such a young child.”
“You never talk to me about it.”
Dad looked down, avoiding Jack’s gaze. “I didn’t think you remembered. And I don’t want you to think about it.”
Pop found them then. “Jack, you need to be out with your guests; it’s only polite. Oh. Hi, House.”
“Jimmy, my boy.”
Pop was instantly suspicious. “House. You had a drink tonight.”
Dad was bouncing his cane up and down. “It’s a big moment in Jack’s life, a big celebration.”
Hands on his hips, Pop began to shake his head. “You’re not supposed to have any alcohol while you’re taking your new pain meds. None.”
“Eh, what do you know about it?” Dad was being very nonchalant in the face of Pop’s exasperation. This was not a good sign.
“I do like to research the medications I prescribe to people.”
“I told you what to give me.”
“Now you’re just arguing for argument’s sake.” Pop turned to Jack. “Go get Dad a glass of water.”
Jack hurried out of the hall. It’d been a long while since he’d heard Pop yell at anyone, but it looked like it was going to be Dad’s turn.
After getting the water, Jack walked slowly back toward the hall. He really was not in the mood to hear more arguing. When he got to the door to the hall, he listened through it, trying to gauge the mood.
No yelling, but Pop did sound very serious.
“It’s been ten years, House. Nobody thinks about that any more but you.”
“Jack remembers it.”
“He does not! He was too young.”
“He remembers visiting you in the hospital. He just told me.”
“Damn.”
“I wonder if the assholes think about it when they’re working at their jobs or putting their kids to bed at night. ‘Hey, Susie, did I ever tell you about that time Daddy beat up some fags?’”
Jack felt bad for listening at the door, but Dad and Pop would never tell him about what had happened. Even tonight, Dad had barely said anything.
“House, they’re in jail. Let it rest.”
“Nope, they’re not in jail. Not any more. Asshole #1, the guy who started it, is in Detroit. Asshole #2, the shortest one, is in some shithole no-name town in Texas. Asshole #3, the other one, is dead. Shanked in prison. I’m hoping he was raped too, but don’t know for sure.”
“You’re not stalking them, are you?”
“No, I’m not stalking them. I’m on the official victim notification list. I should’ve been able to get on as your family member but couldn’t because of the goddamn laws of the state. Fortunately, when the assholes jammed the cane into my thigh that night, they made me a victim too, so now I get to know all about them until they die. And even a little bit after. Asshole #3 is buried just outside of Philadelphia. I went and literally spit on his grave. Danced a little, too.”
“You should let it go, House.”
“You almost died.”
“But I didn’t.”
“But you could have. And I made it happen.”
“House, it was random. Could not have been predicted, could not have been prevented.”
“If I’d kept my mouth shut -”
“Do you remember that you didn’t want to go there that night? You wanted to go to Magill’s. But I said, no, too noisy and their onion rings suck. So, if I’d just gone to Magill’s like you wanted, none of this would have happened. Or, if I’d become an astronaut like I wanted to when I was five, none of this would have happened. Of course, I never would have met you and we never would have had Jack.”
Pop paused a second and then continued, “Those men wanted to hurt someone that night. There was no way you could have controlled it, House. You have to stop letting it control you.”
“I don’t feel so good. I think I should go home.”
Pop sighed. “House, you are so simplistic when you want to avoid discussions.” There was a pause. “Wait a minute, you are kind of warm.”
Oh, no, that didn’t sound good. Jack went back in the hall. Dad was sitting on a bench and looking a little pale.
“Jack, great, give your Dad the water. House, sip that, and then go to the front. I’ll get my car and take you home.” Pop started for the door.
Dad shook his head. “I’ll take a cab. You have hosting duties.”
Pop stopped at the door, and smiled back at them.
“Elaine can take care of it just fine. I’ll tell you a secret: other than the kids, they’re mostly her friends anyway.”
Jack felt Dad’s forehead; it was pretty warm. “Should I come with you, Dad?”
“No, Jack, stay here and enjoy your party. You need to dance with that girl.” Dad nudged Jack in the side.
“What girl?”
“The one I terrorized.”
“Oh, Jennifer.” Just saying her name made Jack feel like he was blushing. “She wouldn’t want to dance with me.”
“Son, I have never been as suave with the ladies as Wilson, but I have learned at least one thing. When they tell you you’re funny, you don’t have a prayer. But when they tell you you’re handsome, then you’re definitely going to get a dance out of them.” He stood up and knocked Jack on the shoulder.
“C’mon, you can walk me to the front door.”
It was hard to tell where it came from - it really didn’t fit the situation - but Jack suddenly felt proud of his Dad.
“I love you, Dad.”
Dad’s face was serious, but his eyes were loving. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, Jack. I’m grateful every day that you’re part of my life.”
Well, that was just embarrassing. “You don’t have to get sappy about it.”
They were at the front door. Dad gestured with his head. “Go back to the party. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Jennifer did dance with Jack, twice, and he thought about trying to kiss her, but chickened out.
By the end of the party, Pop had not returned. Elaine and Jack went home in a taxi.
“I thought your father said he was going to come back.”
Jack was looking out the window, and he didn’t bother to turn toward Elaine. “Dad wasn’t feeling so good. I don’t think he could come back.”
“I mean James. He really should have said goodbye to the guests.”
Jack shrugged.
Pop finally made it home the next day just as Elaine and Jack were finishing breakfast. He ruffled Jack’s hair as he gave the update. “Dad’s fever broke at about sunrise. He’s going to be fine. Nothing to worry about.”
“Jack, why don’t you go take your shower?” Elaine’s face was tight, and she was clearly telling him, not asking him, so he mumbled a goodbye and left the room.
The sharpness in Elaine’s next words surprised Jack, and he stayed close to the kitchen to hear.
“We said no overnights!”
“House was sick. He had a fever; it could have been anything. I had to stay and see if he was going to need antibiotics.” There was a pause, and Jack wondered if Elaine had rolled her eyes or shrugged.
“Elaine, he’s alone. He doesn’t have anyone to take care of him when these things happen.”
“Yes, he does have someone. And luckily for him, it’s someone who will ignore all other obligations in favor of what House wants.”
“I don’t think that’s fair.”
“Fair?” There was a slapping sound, like Elaine had hit a dishtowel against the table or counter. “How about having a husband who’s in love with someone else and a stepson who treats me like a piece of furniture? Is that fair?”
“Elaine. We discussed this before we got married.”
“Yes, and you agreed to no overnights. Check him into the damn hospital if you have to, but you spend the night in our bed.”
“Elaine.” Pop sighed.
“Do you know why I married you, James? Because I loved you, and because I didn’t want to be alone any more. I can share your love, but if you’re going to leave me alone, there’s not any point to this.”
“Elaine, I love you. I do. Come here. I’m sorry; I’m so sorry…” Pop’s voice became muffled, and Jack decided it was time to go. He didn’t like seeing Pop and Elaine hugging or kissing. It was… unnatural.
***
In Jack’s sophomore year in high school, everything turned stupid. School was stupid, activities were stupid, home was stupid. His crappy-ass McDonald’s job was particularly stupid. The only things that gave him any relief were hanging out with his friends, being on the Internet, and listening to music.
Even Dad turned stupid, and that was the most disappointing thing of all. They were having breakfast one day, and Dad was talking about a lame concert at school that Jack had gotten roped into playing at.
“It’s at seven tomorrow, right?” Dad asked.
Jack grunted and didn’t look up from his cereal bowl.
“I just switched my bowling night to Thursdays, so I’ll definitely be there.”
“Pop and Elaine’ll be there. You don’t have to come. Whatever.” He shrugged and shoveled another spoonful in his mouth.
“Jack, you know that rule got rescinded, right? It’s all right if you talk about your family.”
“Dad.” Jack was exasperated. “I’m fifteen. None of my friends talk about their families; I’m not talking about mine.” He pushed back from the table and headed to his room. Time to get his stuff together for another stupid day.
***
The college brochures started coming in the mail in the middle of Jack’s sophomore year, after he’d taken the PSATs a year early, just to get them out of the way. He threw all the brochures in a drawer, not ready to look at them.
The flow of mail surged in February of his junior year, after he was named a National Merit Scholar Finalist. Elaine bought a file box and started filing the brochures alphabetically.
A few enterprising institutions even found Dad’s address attached to Jack’s name somewhere, and sent him materials there. Quoting to Jack from the brochures became one of Dad’s favorite pastimes.
“Here’s another Great Books college. Thomas Aquinas in California… Ooh, this one’s Catholic. Think they’ll take a half Jew, half atheist?” Dad was sprawled on the couch, a stack of envelopes on his chest.
“Nobody can be half-atheist, Dad.” Jack looked over Dad’s shoulder at the brochure. “And I’ve read almost all the books they list there.”
“Yes, but have you divined their true meaning? Thomas Aquinas will help you ‘form habits of thought and discourse. And by means of these habits, you can better lay hold of the knowledge and wisdom recorded in the Great Books.’ Fun.”
“Dad.” Jack flopped in the chair next to the couch and regarded his bag of chips.
Dad let the brochure fall from his fingers onto the floor and started to open another envelope. “You know, Princeton ‘s not a bad school. You could try there.”
“I’m not living at home while I go to college.” The chips were salt and vinegar, not Jack’s favorite, but he ate them, anyway.
“Of course not. To get the full college experience, you can’t live at home. So, you’ll move in full-time with me instead.” House slipped a new brochure out. This one was a nasty orange and green and was immediately thrown to the ground.
“Dad.”
“We already eat like college students when you’re here, so that’s taken care of. Admittedly, Wilson has better access to marijuana, but I’m willing to get a keg fridge if you want. I even know the stethoscope on the door trick for when you need some private time.”
Dad craned his neck to look over the sofa arm at Jack.
“What do you say?”
Smiling, Jack shook his head, crumpled the empty chip bag, and threw it at him. “I’ve already picked where I’m going. Michigan.”
Dad’s eyes opened wider, and then he blinked. “My old stomping grounds? What made you decide that? And why didn’t you talk to me when you were making up your mind?”
Jack shrugged. “I don’t know why I didn’t talk to you. Just decided by myself. I haven’t told Pop yet, either.”
The envelopes fell to the floor as Dad sat up. “There are a lot of factors that should go into your decision. You have a lot of options, and you shouldn’t be hasty.”
“Yeah, I know. For a while, I was thinking I’d join the Marines, just like Grandpa.”
The glare directed his way was highly amusing. “Kidding. I looked at U-C San Francisco and U-T Austin, too, but I really like the graduate Pharm program at Michigan.”
“Farm program? You want to study agriculture?”
“Pharm with a P-H. Short for pharmacy.”
“You’re teasing me again.” Dad leaned forward and started picking up the envelopes and brochures. He must have been feeling unsettled; normally, he’d leave them for Jack to clean up.
“Nope. I want to be a retail pharmacist.”
“You’re going to sell greeting cards and gum.” The envelopes slapped onto the coffee table.
“Not a drugstore clerk, Dad, a pharmacist. It’s a good job, solid money, in demand everywhere. It’s productive, helps people, and best of all, I’ll get to leave it behind completely at the end of the day. No being on call, no puzzling over work in the middle of the night.”
“It’s fun to puzzle over work in the middle of the night.” Dad sat back and looked into Jack’s eyes searchingly. “Why is leaving the job behind so important to you?”
“Because the job’s not all I’m going to be about. I also want to be -” Jack stopped for a second and considered. “No, make that I am a writer. I need time to work on that, too.”
“You’re a writer.” Dad’s face held hints of skepticism, but for Dad, that was pretty good.
“Well, not published. Yet. I am only sixteen. But I’ve been putting some stuff on the Internet, and have gotten some good feedback.”
“There are a lot of idiots on the Internet. They pass out good feedback like it’s candy on Halloween.”
“Thank you for that vote of confidence. But I mean comments and critique from people whose writing I think is good.” Jack shrugged again, even though Dad wasn’t looking at him at that point. “Of course, it’s not professional, not published, but hey, that’s why I want to do the pharmacy gig. Make my money there and just write what pleases me. If it catches on, great. If not, then I’ve had a good time creating it.”
“You’ve never shown me any of your pieces.”
The thought of Dad reading his work made Jack feel bashful. “Nothing so far has been, um, worthy of you, Dad. I promise, the first really good thing I write, I’ll let you read.”
With a smile, Dad looked at him again. “I’m sure it’s all excellent. You’re my son; how could it not be?”
“There is that.”
“Michigan, really?” Dad sank back on the couch until he was lying along it with his head on the arm.
“Michigan really.”
“Wilson‘s going to be upset. I think he had his heart set on you going to McGill.”
“I did look at it. No Pharm program.”
“I think they do have some cows, though. Did I ever tell you about the Clinic patient who said he was in love with cows?”
***
The rest of high school flew by. Jack got into Michigan in the College of Literature, Science, and the Arts, and then in April was selected for the preferred admission program in pharmacy, which meant in two years he’d automatically transfer to the Pharm.D. program. It was good to have that settled.
In June, Pop and Elaine threw him a big graduation party. Leo caught Dad kissing Pop in the kitchen again, which was embarrassing if also amusing. After a hasty negotiation, in which he purchased Leo and Teddy’s silence with Scotch he’d purloined from Dad, they re-joined the party with no one the wiser and proceeded to have a great night.
That summer was busy too, with work and friends and writing. Jack kept an eye out for any hint that the kitchen kissing might lead to a change in Pop and Dad’s relationship, but things kept on as they were. After clearing it with Jack (“Are you sure it’s OK? It’s your last summer before college.”), Elaine and Pop went to Aruba for a week, and came back happier than they’d been in a while.
For Jack’s eighteenth birthday in August, Dad rented him a motorcycle and they went on a three-day ride, which about gave Pop a stroke. They made it back in one piece, though, and that was the happiest Jack had seen Dad in a while.
The Aruba trip had mellowed Elaine out, because she finally agreed to let Pop go with Dad to drive Jack to college. “I could call in sick and come, too,” she called from the porch as they were packing the last of Jack’s things into the rental truck.
“Can only have three in the cab, ma’am,” Dad replied, tipping his trucker hat at her, as he climbed into the truck.
“We’ll be fine, sweetheart,” Pop said and kissed her goodbye. Jack barely heard him as he said quietly to her, “Jack will chaperone on the way there, and House and I will come straight back without stopping. I promise.”
“Goodbye, Elaine!” Jack waved goodbye from the truck.
His heart not being in it, he was a highly ineffective chaperone over the next few days.
***
Was eighteen too early to have a mid-life crisis? Jack was exhausted by the end of his first year at college. He’d had a full load of classes, heavy on the science, campus job, intramural lacrosse (Dad had been pleased), volunteering at the children’s center (Pop had been pleased), and a stint on the school paper (Jack had been pleased until he’d had a blowout with the moron ops page editor who wouldn’t know good writing if it bit him on his sizable ass). Plus the whole “living on your own for the first time and making brand new friends when you’d lived in the same small town your whole life” thing. Oy.
One very bright spot in front of him: his first full week back, both Dad and Pop were taking the week off to spend with him, and Elaine was taking vacation time as well. For a trip to Mexico with her sister.
By the time Jack and Pop got back from taking her to the airport, Dad was already planted on the couch in the family room, feet on the coffee table, and various and sundry accoutrements strewn about the floor.
“Want a beer?” he offered. “I brought porn.”
Scary how quickly the exasperation could build in Pop. “There are so many things wrong with those six syllables, I can’t even tell you. This is not a great start to our week together.”
“What?” To an outsider, Dad would have looked baffled, but Jack could see the grin hiding beneath.
“Let’s just go with the most obvious: that it’s nine a.m. Get up off my couch.”
Dad started to get up, then stopped and ran a hand along the edge of the seat. “You know, this actually is my couch. How do you still have it? And, come to think of it, why do you still have it? It’s over twenty years old.”
“I like that couch. I have fond memories on that couch. Now get up and let’s go to brunch.”
“Jews and your brunch,” Dad replied as he sauntered out the door. “You turning into a lox boy as well, Jacky?”
They lingered over brunch so long that it fell into lunch. Pop told them all about a new treatment protocol that was working wonders in pediatrics. Dad had compiled and ranked a list of the stupidest Clinic patients of the year, and they assigned awards based on orifice involved.
They spent the afternoon playing old-style video games (what really was the point of Grand Theft Auto?) and the evening eating Chinese takeout and arguing over the best zombie movies.
Finally, at about nine o’clock Dad turned to Jack and said, “All right. Let’s have your report card.”
“My report card? Do you mean my transcript?”
“Hand it over, so I can sign it.” Dad held out his hand, while Pop rolled his eyes.
“You’re so weird, Dad. But I think I still have it on my phone. Hold on.”
After taking the phone, Dad squinted to make out the text, and then read it aloud.
“Physics, A. Chemistry, A. Human Anatomy, A. Introduction to Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender and Queer Studies, which is one of the most tortured class titles I’ve ever seen… B minus?” He was almost comically surprised.
“You must be seeing that wrong. You need new reading glasses.” Pop took the phone and squinted as well. “Huh, that does say ‘B minus.’”
“You got As in everything else and a B minus in Gay Studies? How did that happen?”
Jack huffed and rolled his eyes. “The professor said my views were stereotypical and lacking in real-life experience.”
Dad and Pop both seemed bewildered. Dad replied, “Did he expect you to sleep with a guy just for that class? How much more real-life experience did you need?”
Understanding dawned on Pop’s face. “You never mentioned us, did you?”
“Not really, I guess.”
“You guess?” asked Dad skeptically.
Jack looked at each of them quickly and then down at his knees. “Not talking about my family is a hard habit to break.”
They were silent for a few minutes, until Dad poked Jack in the arm. “One more time at Grand Theft Auto and then I have to go.”
They stretched it out for over an hour, so that it was past ten when Dad started collecting his things to leave.
It seemed so wrong for Dad to go. Jack looked over at Pop, who seemed to have the same thought. He nodded.
Jack caught Dad by the arm. “Dad, just stay. You said we were all going to spend the week together. If you go back to your place, it’ll be a pain having to call you in the morning, find out if you’re up, wait for you to come over… It’ll be more fun if you’re just here.”
Dad smiled briefly. “You may have a year of college under your belt, but I don’t think you’re head of the household here.”
“I want you to stay,” Pop said, and it was hard for Jack to remember the last time he sounded quite that serious.
Dad looked from Jack to Pop and then nodded. “All right. It’s getting pretty late, anyway.” He sat down again and threw his arms back along the top of the couch.
Jack smiled. “It’s been a long day; I’m going to bed. Good night, Dad.”
“Good night, Jack.” Dad didn’t even look up, but his voice was warm.
“Good night, Pop.”
Pop hugged him close. “Good night, sweetheart.”
“Sweetheart?” Dad called from the couch. “He’s practically a grown man, for Christ’s sake. Quit fussing over him, or you’ll turn him gay.”
“And heaven forbid that should happen to a son of ours.”
Pop kissed Jack on the cheek noisily, probably just to spite Dad, then let him go. Jack smiled again, kissed Pop back, and made his way to his bedroom.
He had finished brushing his teeth and was about to turn in, but decided he couldn’t resist a little spying on his parents. Feeling like a kid on Christmas Eve, he tiptoed down the hall and peeked around the corner.
Dad was still on the couch, and Pop was puttering somewhere, probably in the kitchen.
“Wilson, are you going to get me a pillow and blanket, or do I have to find them myself?” Dad called.
“The guest bedroom bed has fresh sheets, but you’re not staying there.” Pop re-entered the living room, wiping his hands on a dishtowel.
“You’re kicking a cripple to the couch? Nice.”
“I’m too old for this shit,” Pop replied. He threw the dishtowel on a chair, crossed the room, and sat on the coffee table directly in front of Dad.
He looked straight into Dad’s eyes and said, “I want you to come to bed with me.”
Dad brought his arms down from the sofa back and crossed them over his chest. “Your wife -”
“Is gone for the week.”
“You always say -”
“The key is that she doesn’t want to be alone. She’s not alone this week; she’s with her sister. Elaine is well aware that I still love you. You were part of the prenup.”
Dad rolled his eyes and made a face. “Oh, you had to go and bring the ‘l word’ into things. Now I’m going to feel guilty about molesting you in your sleep.”
“You should feel guilty. You should save all your molesting for when I’m awake.”
Dad broke away from Pop’s gaze and looked at the right sofa arm. He looked at the left sofa arm, the piano in the corner, the ceiling, and then Pop again. “Are you really sure about this?”
“I am really sure about this.” Pop reached out a hand to help Dad pull himself up from the couch, but Dad ignored it in favor of clamping a hand on Pop’s shoulder. He pulled and struggled and ended up plastered against Pop, his stomach pressed against Pop’s head.
“Not that I don’t enjoy the view,” Pop mumbled, “but how am I supposed to get up now?”
“You’ll think of something,” Dad said, but quickly stepped back and sideways to free up space for Pop to rise.
Pop waggled his eyebrows as he stood. “I’m thinking of something very pleasurable indeed.”
“You can’t rush these things at our age. You’ve got to give an old man time to get revved up.”
“You have until we make it to the bedroom.” Pop was already walking.
“I’ve missed you, Wilson,” said Dad seriously to Pop’s back.
Pop looked back over his shoulder. “Let’s go.”
Jack beat a hasty retreat to his own bedroom and was still smiling when he fell asleep.
The next morning, when he headed into the kitchen, the scene could only be described as content.
Dad was seated at the kitchen table. Pop was standing behind him with his arms around Dad, cheek lying on Dad’s head. Dad’s hands were rubbing Pop’s arms. Jack stood quietly, watching them, and couldn’t keep the smile off his face.
When he noticed Jack, Dad flinched and pulled away from Pop slightly, eliciting a small murmur of protest.
“Relax, Dad. It’s all right.” Jack stepped forward and sat in the chair across from Dad. “I’m assuming this means you guys got busy last night.”
“Jack!” Pop crossed to the coffeemaker and started pouring Jack a cup.
“It’s no big deal. I know you have to have had sex at some point. I mean, at least once, right? Because otherwise, how would I have been conceived?”
Pop and Dad exchanged a look as Pop handed Jack his coffee and then went to the stove. Jack checked: bacon and eggs, but no pancakes. Bummer.
“No wonder you failed that sexuality class,” Dad remarked as he took a sip of coffee.
“B minus is not a failing grade. And that class really didn’t talk about actual sex much, anyway.” Jack added a teaspoon of sugar to his coffee and stirred thoughtfully. “Now Anatomy, that was much more informative.”
Pop’s look of surprise was funny. “It was an Intro to Anatomy class. You probably learned more about sex organs from the books we gave you in elementary school. What are you talking about?”
“I don’t mean the formal curriculum, Pop.” Jack looked at Dad slyly. “It was more of the hands-on practicum.”
“Ah,” said Dad. Pop still looked confused.
Jack continued wistfully, “Amber O’Neill. She made a great T.A. And yes, Dad, she had great T and A, too.”
“Our little Jacky went out and got himself some. I’m so proud.” He reached across the table and chucked Jack under the chin.
“Who is this girl?” Pop asked over his shoulder. “Are we going to meet her?” The bacon was starting to smell great.
“I don’t think so, Pop. It was fun, but it wasn’t really a boyfriend/girlfriend thing. In fact, I think she’s planning on hooking back up with her high school boyfriend this summer.”
Dad was still smiling smugly. “Jacky, my boy, I’m verklempt. Give your old Dad a hug.” Jack rolled his eyes, but got up and hugged Dad anyway.
“What say we go out and get ourselves some hookers this week?” Dad continued. “I know some twins who have a thing for father-son action.”
Pop put down Dad’s plate more forcefully than necessary. “That would be a no.”
“You can come, too.”
“We have a week. We’re going to enjoy it together as a family, doing activities that do not involve… bordellos.”
Dad reached out, grabbed Pop around the waist, and swung him down to sit on Dad’s good leg. “You’re so old-fashioned.” Dad dug his face into Pop’s chest.
Pop sneaked his arms around him. “Yes, I’ve often been told that.”
It was time for Jack to go. He grabbed two slices of bacon and his coffee mug. “Well. I’m going to take a shower. I’ll see you two, um, later.”
(Continued)
(Back)
Jennifer Schwartz was the most beautiful girl in Jack’s class. He couldn’t imagine why she was at his Bar Mitzvah party. He especially couldn’t imagine why she was actually talking to him.
Her sweet “Hi” had taken his breath away. It was by luck only that he managed to reply coherently.
“Your mom is so sweet,” Jennifer continued. She gestured toward Elaine, who was playing the proud hostess, laughing and greeting each guest.
Jack only spared Elaine a momentary glance. It was hard to look directly at Jennifer, but it was even harder to look away.
“She’s my stepmother. My Pop married her two years ago. I guess she’s nice.”
“And your Pop is kind of handsome.”
Jack didn’t know what to say to that. He’d never thought about it one way or the other.
Jennifer took one step closer to him. He forgot to breathe for a moment.
“You look a lot like him.”
Jennifer smelled like flowers. Her hands looked so soft. When he dared to lift his eyes to her face, she was smiling at him. He had to swallow hard.
And then suddenly they weren’t alone.
“Luck of the draw, I assure you! The sperm genes are mine, not Wilson’s.”
“Dad!” Jack was mortified. Jennifer was staring at his Dad as if he were from another planet. “Um, Jennifer, this is my biological father. His name is House. I’m adopted, or I mean, I was adopted by my father. I mean, my Pop.”
“Of course, if it hadn’t been for schizophrenia and cystic fibrosis, it might have been the other way around.”
“Dad!” Jack glared at Dad, and flashed an embarrassed smile at Jennifer. “He’s just kidding. Um, bye.”
Jack pushed Dad away from the tables and out the door to the hall. Dad was chortling and pushing back against him, so he had to be careful not to make him trip. The need for caution calmed Jack down a bit and he was able to face Dad once they made it to a fairly private place.
“Dad! What about the rule that we don’t talk about our family?”
Dad regarded him with a look of clear amusement. “I’m going to have to argue a point of semantics with you there, Jack. The rule is you“ - he pressed one finger to Jack’s nose briefly but firmly - “don’t talk about your family. I’m an adult. I have the judgment to decide when it’s appropriate and when it’s not.”
“I don’t think it was really appropriate then,” Jack responded sourly. “And, anyway, that’s not how you said the rule the first time you told me, when Pop was in the hospital. You said, ‘We don’t talk about our family.’”
“When Wilson was in the hospital? You remember that?”
“Just some. Pop’s face was so bruised; I thought the colors were strange. And you said to me, ‘See, Jack, this is why we don’t talk about our family.’”
Dad’s face was pensive. He was looking just over Jack’s head, and then he traced Jack’s hairline with a finger, pushing the hair back out of the way.
Jack felt a little too old to have his hair stroked like that - he was a man today, after all - but he let it go. “And then you said something about a cauliflower tail. I never figured out what that meant.”
Dad had gently rubbed the back of Jack’s neck one time, and then brought his hand to Jack’s shoulder. He pressed down once, twice as he puzzled over this comment.
“I don’t remember saying anything about cauliflower.”
“I don’t know. Just another weird thing adults say. You wanted me to see the point of the cauliflower tail.”
The hand on Jack’s shoulder bore down on him sharply, as Dad shook with laughter. “Cautionary tale, that’s what I said. It was a cautionary tale, a lesson you needed to learn about danger.”
“Well, how was I supposed to know that?” Jack shoved Dad off him angrily, and stepped back. “I was only three.”
“I know.” Dad’s tone was conciliatory, and that was unusual enough for Jack to give him a look. “That was a rough time for all of us. You withstood it very, very well for such a young child.”
“You never talk to me about it.”
Dad looked down, avoiding Jack’s gaze. “I didn’t think you remembered. And I don’t want you to think about it.”
Pop found them then. “Jack, you need to be out with your guests; it’s only polite. Oh. Hi, House.”
“Jimmy, my boy.”
Pop was instantly suspicious. “House. You had a drink tonight.”
Dad was bouncing his cane up and down. “It’s a big moment in Jack’s life, a big celebration.”
Hands on his hips, Pop began to shake his head. “You’re not supposed to have any alcohol while you’re taking your new pain meds. None.”
“Eh, what do you know about it?” Dad was being very nonchalant in the face of Pop’s exasperation. This was not a good sign.
“I do like to research the medications I prescribe to people.”
“I told you what to give me.”
“Now you’re just arguing for argument’s sake.” Pop turned to Jack. “Go get Dad a glass of water.”
Jack hurried out of the hall. It’d been a long while since he’d heard Pop yell at anyone, but it looked like it was going to be Dad’s turn.
After getting the water, Jack walked slowly back toward the hall. He really was not in the mood to hear more arguing. When he got to the door to the hall, he listened through it, trying to gauge the mood.
No yelling, but Pop did sound very serious.
“It’s been ten years, House. Nobody thinks about that any more but you.”
“Jack remembers it.”
“He does not! He was too young.”
“He remembers visiting you in the hospital. He just told me.”
“Damn.”
“I wonder if the assholes think about it when they’re working at their jobs or putting their kids to bed at night. ‘Hey, Susie, did I ever tell you about that time Daddy beat up some fags?’”
Jack felt bad for listening at the door, but Dad and Pop would never tell him about what had happened. Even tonight, Dad had barely said anything.
“House, they’re in jail. Let it rest.”
“Nope, they’re not in jail. Not any more. Asshole #1, the guy who started it, is in Detroit. Asshole #2, the shortest one, is in some shithole no-name town in Texas. Asshole #3, the other one, is dead. Shanked in prison. I’m hoping he was raped too, but don’t know for sure.”
“You’re not stalking them, are you?”
“No, I’m not stalking them. I’m on the official victim notification list. I should’ve been able to get on as your family member but couldn’t because of the goddamn laws of the state. Fortunately, when the assholes jammed the cane into my thigh that night, they made me a victim too, so now I get to know all about them until they die. And even a little bit after. Asshole #3 is buried just outside of Philadelphia. I went and literally spit on his grave. Danced a little, too.”
“You should let it go, House.”
“You almost died.”
“But I didn’t.”
“But you could have. And I made it happen.”
“House, it was random. Could not have been predicted, could not have been prevented.”
“If I’d kept my mouth shut -”
“Do you remember that you didn’t want to go there that night? You wanted to go to Magill’s. But I said, no, too noisy and their onion rings suck. So, if I’d just gone to Magill’s like you wanted, none of this would have happened. Or, if I’d become an astronaut like I wanted to when I was five, none of this would have happened. Of course, I never would have met you and we never would have had Jack.”
Pop paused a second and then continued, “Those men wanted to hurt someone that night. There was no way you could have controlled it, House. You have to stop letting it control you.”
“I don’t feel so good. I think I should go home.”
Pop sighed. “House, you are so simplistic when you want to avoid discussions.” There was a pause. “Wait a minute, you are kind of warm.”
Oh, no, that didn’t sound good. Jack went back in the hall. Dad was sitting on a bench and looking a little pale.
“Jack, great, give your Dad the water. House, sip that, and then go to the front. I’ll get my car and take you home.” Pop started for the door.
Dad shook his head. “I’ll take a cab. You have hosting duties.”
Pop stopped at the door, and smiled back at them.
“Elaine can take care of it just fine. I’ll tell you a secret: other than the kids, they’re mostly her friends anyway.”
Jack felt Dad’s forehead; it was pretty warm. “Should I come with you, Dad?”
“No, Jack, stay here and enjoy your party. You need to dance with that girl.” Dad nudged Jack in the side.
“What girl?”
“The one I terrorized.”
“Oh, Jennifer.” Just saying her name made Jack feel like he was blushing. “She wouldn’t want to dance with me.”
“Son, I have never been as suave with the ladies as Wilson, but I have learned at least one thing. When they tell you you’re funny, you don’t have a prayer. But when they tell you you’re handsome, then you’re definitely going to get a dance out of them.” He stood up and knocked Jack on the shoulder.
“C’mon, you can walk me to the front door.”
It was hard to tell where it came from - it really didn’t fit the situation - but Jack suddenly felt proud of his Dad.
“I love you, Dad.”
Dad’s face was serious, but his eyes were loving. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, Jack. I’m grateful every day that you’re part of my life.”
Well, that was just embarrassing. “You don’t have to get sappy about it.”
They were at the front door. Dad gestured with his head. “Go back to the party. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Jennifer did dance with Jack, twice, and he thought about trying to kiss her, but chickened out.
By the end of the party, Pop had not returned. Elaine and Jack went home in a taxi.
“I thought your father said he was going to come back.”
Jack was looking out the window, and he didn’t bother to turn toward Elaine. “Dad wasn’t feeling so good. I don’t think he could come back.”
“I mean James. He really should have said goodbye to the guests.”
Jack shrugged.
Pop finally made it home the next day just as Elaine and Jack were finishing breakfast. He ruffled Jack’s hair as he gave the update. “Dad’s fever broke at about sunrise. He’s going to be fine. Nothing to worry about.”
“Jack, why don’t you go take your shower?” Elaine’s face was tight, and she was clearly telling him, not asking him, so he mumbled a goodbye and left the room.
The sharpness in Elaine’s next words surprised Jack, and he stayed close to the kitchen to hear.
“We said no overnights!”
“House was sick. He had a fever; it could have been anything. I had to stay and see if he was going to need antibiotics.” There was a pause, and Jack wondered if Elaine had rolled her eyes or shrugged.
“Elaine, he’s alone. He doesn’t have anyone to take care of him when these things happen.”
“Yes, he does have someone. And luckily for him, it’s someone who will ignore all other obligations in favor of what House wants.”
“I don’t think that’s fair.”
“Fair?” There was a slapping sound, like Elaine had hit a dishtowel against the table or counter. “How about having a husband who’s in love with someone else and a stepson who treats me like a piece of furniture? Is that fair?”
“Elaine. We discussed this before we got married.”
“Yes, and you agreed to no overnights. Check him into the damn hospital if you have to, but you spend the night in our bed.”
“Elaine.” Pop sighed.
“Do you know why I married you, James? Because I loved you, and because I didn’t want to be alone any more. I can share your love, but if you’re going to leave me alone, there’s not any point to this.”
“Elaine, I love you. I do. Come here. I’m sorry; I’m so sorry…” Pop’s voice became muffled, and Jack decided it was time to go. He didn’t like seeing Pop and Elaine hugging or kissing. It was… unnatural.
***
In Jack’s sophomore year in high school, everything turned stupid. School was stupid, activities were stupid, home was stupid. His crappy-ass McDonald’s job was particularly stupid. The only things that gave him any relief were hanging out with his friends, being on the Internet, and listening to music.
Even Dad turned stupid, and that was the most disappointing thing of all. They were having breakfast one day, and Dad was talking about a lame concert at school that Jack had gotten roped into playing at.
“It’s at seven tomorrow, right?” Dad asked.
Jack grunted and didn’t look up from his cereal bowl.
“I just switched my bowling night to Thursdays, so I’ll definitely be there.”
“Pop and Elaine’ll be there. You don’t have to come. Whatever.” He shrugged and shoveled another spoonful in his mouth.
“Jack, you know that rule got rescinded, right? It’s all right if you talk about your family.”
“Dad.” Jack was exasperated. “I’m fifteen. None of my friends talk about their families; I’m not talking about mine.” He pushed back from the table and headed to his room. Time to get his stuff together for another stupid day.
***
The college brochures started coming in the mail in the middle of Jack’s sophomore year, after he’d taken the PSATs a year early, just to get them out of the way. He threw all the brochures in a drawer, not ready to look at them.
The flow of mail surged in February of his junior year, after he was named a National Merit Scholar Finalist. Elaine bought a file box and started filing the brochures alphabetically.
A few enterprising institutions even found Dad’s address attached to Jack’s name somewhere, and sent him materials there. Quoting to Jack from the brochures became one of Dad’s favorite pastimes.
“Here’s another Great Books college. Thomas Aquinas in California… Ooh, this one’s Catholic. Think they’ll take a half Jew, half atheist?” Dad was sprawled on the couch, a stack of envelopes on his chest.
“Nobody can be half-atheist, Dad.” Jack looked over Dad’s shoulder at the brochure. “And I’ve read almost all the books they list there.”
“Yes, but have you divined their true meaning? Thomas Aquinas will help you ‘form habits of thought and discourse. And by means of these habits, you can better lay hold of the knowledge and wisdom recorded in the Great Books.’ Fun.”
“Dad.” Jack flopped in the chair next to the couch and regarded his bag of chips.
Dad let the brochure fall from his fingers onto the floor and started to open another envelope. “You know, Princeton ‘s not a bad school. You could try there.”
“I’m not living at home while I go to college.” The chips were salt and vinegar, not Jack’s favorite, but he ate them, anyway.
“Of course not. To get the full college experience, you can’t live at home. So, you’ll move in full-time with me instead.” House slipped a new brochure out. This one was a nasty orange and green and was immediately thrown to the ground.
“Dad.”
“We already eat like college students when you’re here, so that’s taken care of. Admittedly, Wilson has better access to marijuana, but I’m willing to get a keg fridge if you want. I even know the stethoscope on the door trick for when you need some private time.”
Dad craned his neck to look over the sofa arm at Jack.
“What do you say?”
Smiling, Jack shook his head, crumpled the empty chip bag, and threw it at him. “I’ve already picked where I’m going. Michigan.”
Dad’s eyes opened wider, and then he blinked. “My old stomping grounds? What made you decide that? And why didn’t you talk to me when you were making up your mind?”
Jack shrugged. “I don’t know why I didn’t talk to you. Just decided by myself. I haven’t told Pop yet, either.”
The envelopes fell to the floor as Dad sat up. “There are a lot of factors that should go into your decision. You have a lot of options, and you shouldn’t be hasty.”
“Yeah, I know. For a while, I was thinking I’d join the Marines, just like Grandpa.”
The glare directed his way was highly amusing. “Kidding. I looked at U-C San Francisco and U-T Austin, too, but I really like the graduate Pharm program at Michigan.”
“Farm program? You want to study agriculture?”
“Pharm with a P-H. Short for pharmacy.”
“You’re teasing me again.” Dad leaned forward and started picking up the envelopes and brochures. He must have been feeling unsettled; normally, he’d leave them for Jack to clean up.
“Nope. I want to be a retail pharmacist.”
“You’re going to sell greeting cards and gum.” The envelopes slapped onto the coffee table.
“Not a drugstore clerk, Dad, a pharmacist. It’s a good job, solid money, in demand everywhere. It’s productive, helps people, and best of all, I’ll get to leave it behind completely at the end of the day. No being on call, no puzzling over work in the middle of the night.”
“It’s fun to puzzle over work in the middle of the night.” Dad sat back and looked into Jack’s eyes searchingly. “Why is leaving the job behind so important to you?”
“Because the job’s not all I’m going to be about. I also want to be -” Jack stopped for a second and considered. “No, make that I am a writer. I need time to work on that, too.”
“You’re a writer.” Dad’s face held hints of skepticism, but for Dad, that was pretty good.
“Well, not published. Yet. I am only sixteen. But I’ve been putting some stuff on the Internet, and have gotten some good feedback.”
“There are a lot of idiots on the Internet. They pass out good feedback like it’s candy on Halloween.”
“Thank you for that vote of confidence. But I mean comments and critique from people whose writing I think is good.” Jack shrugged again, even though Dad wasn’t looking at him at that point. “Of course, it’s not professional, not published, but hey, that’s why I want to do the pharmacy gig. Make my money there and just write what pleases me. If it catches on, great. If not, then I’ve had a good time creating it.”
“You’ve never shown me any of your pieces.”
The thought of Dad reading his work made Jack feel bashful. “Nothing so far has been, um, worthy of you, Dad. I promise, the first really good thing I write, I’ll let you read.”
With a smile, Dad looked at him again. “I’m sure it’s all excellent. You’re my son; how could it not be?”
“There is that.”
“Michigan, really?” Dad sank back on the couch until he was lying along it with his head on the arm.
“Michigan really.”
“Wilson‘s going to be upset. I think he had his heart set on you going to McGill.”
“I did look at it. No Pharm program.”
“I think they do have some cows, though. Did I ever tell you about the Clinic patient who said he was in love with cows?”
***
The rest of high school flew by. Jack got into Michigan in the College of Literature, Science, and the Arts, and then in April was selected for the preferred admission program in pharmacy, which meant in two years he’d automatically transfer to the Pharm.D. program. It was good to have that settled.
In June, Pop and Elaine threw him a big graduation party. Leo caught Dad kissing Pop in the kitchen again, which was embarrassing if also amusing. After a hasty negotiation, in which he purchased Leo and Teddy’s silence with Scotch he’d purloined from Dad, they re-joined the party with no one the wiser and proceeded to have a great night.
That summer was busy too, with work and friends and writing. Jack kept an eye out for any hint that the kitchen kissing might lead to a change in Pop and Dad’s relationship, but things kept on as they were. After clearing it with Jack (“Are you sure it’s OK? It’s your last summer before college.”), Elaine and Pop went to Aruba for a week, and came back happier than they’d been in a while.
For Jack’s eighteenth birthday in August, Dad rented him a motorcycle and they went on a three-day ride, which about gave Pop a stroke. They made it back in one piece, though, and that was the happiest Jack had seen Dad in a while.
The Aruba trip had mellowed Elaine out, because she finally agreed to let Pop go with Dad to drive Jack to college. “I could call in sick and come, too,” she called from the porch as they were packing the last of Jack’s things into the rental truck.
“Can only have three in the cab, ma’am,” Dad replied, tipping his trucker hat at her, as he climbed into the truck.
“We’ll be fine, sweetheart,” Pop said and kissed her goodbye. Jack barely heard him as he said quietly to her, “Jack will chaperone on the way there, and House and I will come straight back without stopping. I promise.”
“Goodbye, Elaine!” Jack waved goodbye from the truck.
His heart not being in it, he was a highly ineffective chaperone over the next few days.
***
Was eighteen too early to have a mid-life crisis? Jack was exhausted by the end of his first year at college. He’d had a full load of classes, heavy on the science, campus job, intramural lacrosse (Dad had been pleased), volunteering at the children’s center (Pop had been pleased), and a stint on the school paper (Jack had been pleased until he’d had a blowout with the moron ops page editor who wouldn’t know good writing if it bit him on his sizable ass). Plus the whole “living on your own for the first time and making brand new friends when you’d lived in the same small town your whole life” thing. Oy.
One very bright spot in front of him: his first full week back, both Dad and Pop were taking the week off to spend with him, and Elaine was taking vacation time as well. For a trip to Mexico with her sister.
By the time Jack and Pop got back from taking her to the airport, Dad was already planted on the couch in the family room, feet on the coffee table, and various and sundry accoutrements strewn about the floor.
“Want a beer?” he offered. “I brought porn.”
Scary how quickly the exasperation could build in Pop. “There are so many things wrong with those six syllables, I can’t even tell you. This is not a great start to our week together.”
“What?” To an outsider, Dad would have looked baffled, but Jack could see the grin hiding beneath.
“Let’s just go with the most obvious: that it’s nine a.m. Get up off my couch.”
Dad started to get up, then stopped and ran a hand along the edge of the seat. “You know, this actually is my couch. How do you still have it? And, come to think of it, why do you still have it? It’s over twenty years old.”
“I like that couch. I have fond memories on that couch. Now get up and let’s go to brunch.”
“Jews and your brunch,” Dad replied as he sauntered out the door. “You turning into a lox boy as well, Jacky?”
They lingered over brunch so long that it fell into lunch. Pop told them all about a new treatment protocol that was working wonders in pediatrics. Dad had compiled and ranked a list of the stupidest Clinic patients of the year, and they assigned awards based on orifice involved.
They spent the afternoon playing old-style video games (what really was the point of Grand Theft Auto?) and the evening eating Chinese takeout and arguing over the best zombie movies.
Finally, at about nine o’clock Dad turned to Jack and said, “All right. Let’s have your report card.”
“My report card? Do you mean my transcript?”
“Hand it over, so I can sign it.” Dad held out his hand, while Pop rolled his eyes.
“You’re so weird, Dad. But I think I still have it on my phone. Hold on.”
After taking the phone, Dad squinted to make out the text, and then read it aloud.
“Physics, A. Chemistry, A. Human Anatomy, A. Introduction to Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender and Queer Studies, which is one of the most tortured class titles I’ve ever seen… B minus?” He was almost comically surprised.
“You must be seeing that wrong. You need new reading glasses.” Pop took the phone and squinted as well. “Huh, that does say ‘B minus.’”
“You got As in everything else and a B minus in Gay Studies? How did that happen?”
Jack huffed and rolled his eyes. “The professor said my views were stereotypical and lacking in real-life experience.”
Dad and Pop both seemed bewildered. Dad replied, “Did he expect you to sleep with a guy just for that class? How much more real-life experience did you need?”
Understanding dawned on Pop’s face. “You never mentioned us, did you?”
“Not really, I guess.”
“You guess?” asked Dad skeptically.
Jack looked at each of them quickly and then down at his knees. “Not talking about my family is a hard habit to break.”
They were silent for a few minutes, until Dad poked Jack in the arm. “One more time at Grand Theft Auto and then I have to go.”
They stretched it out for over an hour, so that it was past ten when Dad started collecting his things to leave.
It seemed so wrong for Dad to go. Jack looked over at Pop, who seemed to have the same thought. He nodded.
Jack caught Dad by the arm. “Dad, just stay. You said we were all going to spend the week together. If you go back to your place, it’ll be a pain having to call you in the morning, find out if you’re up, wait for you to come over… It’ll be more fun if you’re just here.”
Dad smiled briefly. “You may have a year of college under your belt, but I don’t think you’re head of the household here.”
“I want you to stay,” Pop said, and it was hard for Jack to remember the last time he sounded quite that serious.
Dad looked from Jack to Pop and then nodded. “All right. It’s getting pretty late, anyway.” He sat down again and threw his arms back along the top of the couch.
Jack smiled. “It’s been a long day; I’m going to bed. Good night, Dad.”
“Good night, Jack.” Dad didn’t even look up, but his voice was warm.
“Good night, Pop.”
Pop hugged him close. “Good night, sweetheart.”
“Sweetheart?” Dad called from the couch. “He’s practically a grown man, for Christ’s sake. Quit fussing over him, or you’ll turn him gay.”
“And heaven forbid that should happen to a son of ours.”
Pop kissed Jack on the cheek noisily, probably just to spite Dad, then let him go. Jack smiled again, kissed Pop back, and made his way to his bedroom.
He had finished brushing his teeth and was about to turn in, but decided he couldn’t resist a little spying on his parents. Feeling like a kid on Christmas Eve, he tiptoed down the hall and peeked around the corner.
Dad was still on the couch, and Pop was puttering somewhere, probably in the kitchen.
“Wilson, are you going to get me a pillow and blanket, or do I have to find them myself?” Dad called.
“The guest bedroom bed has fresh sheets, but you’re not staying there.” Pop re-entered the living room, wiping his hands on a dishtowel.
“You’re kicking a cripple to the couch? Nice.”
“I’m too old for this shit,” Pop replied. He threw the dishtowel on a chair, crossed the room, and sat on the coffee table directly in front of Dad.
He looked straight into Dad’s eyes and said, “I want you to come to bed with me.”
Dad brought his arms down from the sofa back and crossed them over his chest. “Your wife -”
“Is gone for the week.”
“You always say -”
“The key is that she doesn’t want to be alone. She’s not alone this week; she’s with her sister. Elaine is well aware that I still love you. You were part of the prenup.”
Dad rolled his eyes and made a face. “Oh, you had to go and bring the ‘l word’ into things. Now I’m going to feel guilty about molesting you in your sleep.”
“You should feel guilty. You should save all your molesting for when I’m awake.”
Dad broke away from Pop’s gaze and looked at the right sofa arm. He looked at the left sofa arm, the piano in the corner, the ceiling, and then Pop again. “Are you really sure about this?”
“I am really sure about this.” Pop reached out a hand to help Dad pull himself up from the couch, but Dad ignored it in favor of clamping a hand on Pop’s shoulder. He pulled and struggled and ended up plastered against Pop, his stomach pressed against Pop’s head.
“Not that I don’t enjoy the view,” Pop mumbled, “but how am I supposed to get up now?”
“You’ll think of something,” Dad said, but quickly stepped back and sideways to free up space for Pop to rise.
Pop waggled his eyebrows as he stood. “I’m thinking of something very pleasurable indeed.”
“You can’t rush these things at our age. You’ve got to give an old man time to get revved up.”
“You have until we make it to the bedroom.” Pop was already walking.
“I’ve missed you, Wilson,” said Dad seriously to Pop’s back.
Pop looked back over his shoulder. “Let’s go.”
Jack beat a hasty retreat to his own bedroom and was still smiling when he fell asleep.
The next morning, when he headed into the kitchen, the scene could only be described as content.
Dad was seated at the kitchen table. Pop was standing behind him with his arms around Dad, cheek lying on Dad’s head. Dad’s hands were rubbing Pop’s arms. Jack stood quietly, watching them, and couldn’t keep the smile off his face.
When he noticed Jack, Dad flinched and pulled away from Pop slightly, eliciting a small murmur of protest.
“Relax, Dad. It’s all right.” Jack stepped forward and sat in the chair across from Dad. “I’m assuming this means you guys got busy last night.”
“Jack!” Pop crossed to the coffeemaker and started pouring Jack a cup.
“It’s no big deal. I know you have to have had sex at some point. I mean, at least once, right? Because otherwise, how would I have been conceived?”
Pop and Dad exchanged a look as Pop handed Jack his coffee and then went to the stove. Jack checked: bacon and eggs, but no pancakes. Bummer.
“No wonder you failed that sexuality class,” Dad remarked as he took a sip of coffee.
“B minus is not a failing grade. And that class really didn’t talk about actual sex much, anyway.” Jack added a teaspoon of sugar to his coffee and stirred thoughtfully. “Now Anatomy, that was much more informative.”
Pop’s look of surprise was funny. “It was an Intro to Anatomy class. You probably learned more about sex organs from the books we gave you in elementary school. What are you talking about?”
“I don’t mean the formal curriculum, Pop.” Jack looked at Dad slyly. “It was more of the hands-on practicum.”
“Ah,” said Dad. Pop still looked confused.
Jack continued wistfully, “Amber O’Neill. She made a great T.A. And yes, Dad, she had great T and A, too.”
“Our little Jacky went out and got himself some. I’m so proud.” He reached across the table and chucked Jack under the chin.
“Who is this girl?” Pop asked over his shoulder. “Are we going to meet her?” The bacon was starting to smell great.
“I don’t think so, Pop. It was fun, but it wasn’t really a boyfriend/girlfriend thing. In fact, I think she’s planning on hooking back up with her high school boyfriend this summer.”
Dad was still smiling smugly. “Jacky, my boy, I’m verklempt. Give your old Dad a hug.” Jack rolled his eyes, but got up and hugged Dad anyway.
“What say we go out and get ourselves some hookers this week?” Dad continued. “I know some twins who have a thing for father-son action.”
Pop put down Dad’s plate more forcefully than necessary. “That would be a no.”
“You can come, too.”
“We have a week. We’re going to enjoy it together as a family, doing activities that do not involve… bordellos.”
Dad reached out, grabbed Pop around the waist, and swung him down to sit on Dad’s good leg. “You’re so old-fashioned.” Dad dug his face into Pop’s chest.
Pop sneaked his arms around him. “Yes, I’ve often been told that.”
It was time for Jack to go. He grabbed two slices of bacon and his coffee mug. “Well. I’m going to take a shower. I’ll see you two, um, later.”
(Continued)