My Fathers' Son, 4/5 (PG)
My Fathers' Son, Part 4 of 5
(Back)
They went to a movie matinee that afternoon. In line for snacks, Pop and Dad argued over who would get to sit next to Jack. The argument, though totally without acrimony, was rip-roaring, so Jack stayed out of it completely.
As they settled in their seats - Dad had won the argument with “You get the August trip to Europe with him; surely I can claim one lousy movie.” - Jack wondered how they’d missed the obvious: that he had a left and a right side and therefore both could sit next to him. He got his answer just after the lights went down, when Dad and Pop threaded their fingers together.
The action-comedy Jack had picked was excellent entertainment but terrible art, and as such provided fodder for lively debates throughout the rest of the evening. Several times, Jack hid a smug smile within a laugh over a comment, pleased with how well his plan had worked.
Monday morning was lazy, but they spent the afternoon in Manhattan sightseeing. Funny, they lived relatively close to the city, but Jack had hardly spent any time there.
They went to a new restaurant on the edge of Greenwich Village for dinner on a recommendation from one of Pop’s friends. As they got to the door, Jack noticed a guy he knew from Michigan standing nearby.
“Josh, is that you?”
“Hey, Jack, what are you doing here?” Josh grabbed his shoulder, and it made him flinch a little. Josh was a second string cornerback at Michigan, 6’2” and 190 pounds of solid muscle.
“We just came in for some touristy stuff and dinner. Let me introduce you. Dad, Pop, this is Josh Venegas; he goes to Michigan. Josh, this is my father, Greg House, and my other father, James Wilson. They’re doctors over in Princeton.”
“Dr. House, Dr. Wilson, nice to meet you.” Josh smiled, and they all shook hands.
Josh turned back to Jack, shaking his head slightly. “This is a surprise, Jack. You have two dads; you’re not shittin’ me?” Dad tensed up and Pop cast him a worried glance.
“Oh,” Josh said in an aside to Dad and Pop, “sorry about my language there.”
Jack laughed. “Yeah, two dads.”
“Sorry, I was just surprised. No offense, Dr. Wilson and Dr. House, but when I first met Jack I thought he came from an abusive household. Because the only person I’ve ever known who talked less about his family was this abused kid I was trying to mentor.” Josh shook his head. “But Jack, from the little you actually said, it sounded like your father had multiple personality disorder or something. Two dads, that makes a hell of a lot more sense.”
Jack laughed again, and this time Dad and Pop chuckled too.
“Josh, are you waiting for someone?”
“Yeah, my cousin. She just called and said she’s going to be another hour. Draaaag.” It was an inside joke, too complicated to explain, but Jack and Josh got a chuckle out of it.
Smiling, Pop offered, “Josh, since you have to wait, why don’t you have dinner with us?”
“That’d be nice. Are you sure I wouldn’t be imposing?”
“Not at all.”
Dad had taken a seat on a bench. Pop looked over at him.
“House, you look comfortable where you are. Why don’t Jack and I go in and check whether there’s a wait?”
Dad waved them in, and Josh moved closer and bent to ask Dad something.
Pop threw his arm around Jack and hugged him on the way in the door. “You are such a sight for sore eyes,” Pop breathed in his ear, making him laugh.
They approached the hostess, arms still around each other. She thought a table for four could be ready in a few minutes, but stepped away to check.
Pop’s eyes were shining, and Jack was getting a little embarrassed by the love pouring off him. “I really missed you when you were away.”
Smiling, Jack rubbed Pop’s arm. “I wasn’t gone that long.” He hugged Pop again and noticed over Pop’s shoulder that Dad was coming in the door, followed by Josh. They were blocked by a cluster of people in the entry, and for once, Dad seemed okay with letting others go first. Jack laughed and eased out of the hug, although he kept his arm around Pop’s shoulder.
Jack was looking for the hostess again when he overheard a weaselly-sounding man behind them. “Can you believe this neighborhood? Old queens with boys who get younger every day. It’s a disgrace.”
Pop was oblivious, but Jack noticed Dad had heard. Dad strode over to the weasel man and replied, “I happen to know them. They’re father and son. I’m an old queen, though; want to make something of it?” Dad’s tone was bland, but his eyes were flashing. He was holding his cane slightly off the ground, in a position that wasn’t overtly threatening but was prepared for action.
“I, um -” was as far as the man got before Josh stepped up and slipped his right arm around Dad’s waist.
“Honey, don’t be starting something right before dinner,” Josh said and smiled at the weasel man. He then slowly stretched his left arm across to pat Dad’s chest once lightly, giving him a half hug. The weasel man stared at the flexing of Josh’s bicep and tricep, which was undoubtedly the reaction Josh intended to provoke.
“You’ll forgive us if we go now, won’t you?” he purred to the weasel man, who nodded his head so fast he looked almost like a bobble-head doll.
Josh led Dad over to where Pop and Jack stood, keeping his arm lightly around Dad’s waist. Jack tried hard not to laugh and ruin the effect for weasel man.
“Is he still looking?” Josh asked quietly.
“Yep,” Jack replied.
Josh turned to Dad with a sly smile. “If I kiss you, will you pay for my dinner?”
Dad scoffed. “For someone who’s dating me, you sure don’t know me very well.”
Pop leaned in a bit. “If you kiss him,” he said in an undertone, “I’ll pay for your dinner.”
“That’s definitely more typical -” Dad began, but any further words were cut off by the press of Josh’s lips against his. The kiss lasted just a few seconds, and then Josh put his head on Dad’s shoulder.
“Did he see?”
“I think so,” Jack replied. “In any case, he’s leaving.”
“Good,” said Josh and stood up straight. He kept his hand on Dad’s back, however, until the hostess finally led them to their table.
“I hate crap like that,” Josh commented, once they were settled at the table.
“The kissing?” Dad replied. “I found it rather pleasant. Not as much tongue as I usually prefer.”
Pop smirked and nudged Dad in the side.
“No,” Josh continued, as he opened his menu, “the stupid crap people say. Everybody thinks they gotta comment on everyone else’s life. My family and I get it a lot for being Puerto Rican. ‘Go back to your own country,’ and that kind of nonsense. My sister carried around fact sheets from the Puerto Rico Tourism Authority for a while, just to try to educate people. Never seemed to work. Eh, screw ‘em.”
He looked over his menu at Pop. “Are you really buying me dinner? I eat kind of a lot.”
Pop smiled. “Yes, I’m really buying, for you and Jack.”
“And me too, right?” Dad looked over at Pop, although he didn’t look too concerned.
“After all these years? That goes without saying.”
It was a great dinner. The food was nothing special - Pop had made better - but the company was superb. Josh, true to his word, ate more than the three others put together, and ended up taking care of the tip as his way of saying thanks.
Dad hugged Josh goodbye after dinner, which earned him raised eyebrows from both Pop and Jack.
“What? The man’s kissed me; the least I can do is let him cop a feel of my ass before he goes.”
Josh shook his head and clapped Jack on the back. “Jack, buddy, I understand you a lot better now than I used to. You should think about pledging my frat in the fall.”
“A jock fraternity?” A cab pulled up, and Pop and Dad began to get in.
“Hey, we need someone to get the GPA up. Seriously, the guys’d like you. Think about it.”
Josh shut the cab door behind Jack and waved as they left. The last thing Jack saw was a teenage girl jumping into Josh’s arms.
By Friday night, Jack had run through all the current college news and was in the mood for some nostalgia. The three of them were back in the family room, Pop and Dad on the couch, Jack in the recliner.
“Tell me a story from when I was little,” he said.
“What about the night you were born?” Pop replied with a smile.
“I’ve heard that a million times. A different story.”
Pop thought for a second. “There was the Diaper Rash Debacle when you were one.”
Dad winced. “You’d think two doctors could have handled that one a little better, but hey, we’re not pediatricians.”
“Speaking of which, your pediatrician said it was the worst she’d ever seen in twenty years of practice. Nasty. You screamed for almost a week straight, and then you developed a diaper phobia.”
“I had to pin you with my cane just to get the damn thing on you sometimes.”
Pop and Dad were starting to almost overlap sentences at this point. “We had to switch to cloth, and boy, that was not nice.”
“Marjorie threatened to quit three times before you finally got over the phobia and went back to disposables.”
Jack shuddered. “That sounds gross. Did you ever find out what caused it?”
Dad’s look was smug. “I am an excellent diagnostician; of course I figured it out.”
Pop’s look was exasperated. “Someone was feeding you chocolate on the sly, even though we had agreed not to let you have caffeine until you were older.”
It was hard to imagine a wistful expression on Dad’s face, but this one came close. “You were so happy when you ate chocolate, Jack. You can’t even imagine how happy you were.”
“But I’m allergic to chocolate,” Jack noted.
“One of the very, very few who truly are; otherwise, we would have realized it sooner,” Dad replied cheerfully.
Pop shook his head. “That whole period was torture. But there was one silver lining to that cloud.”
Dad leaned forward and smirked. “We got a great story to tell all your future girlfriends. Or boyfriends, whichever.”
Jack was aghast. “What?”
The shared smile between Pop and Dad did not reassure him. Pop replied, “All parents need an embarrassing story to tell to their children’s prospective mates. We were lucky that we got yours so early.”
“Please tell me you didn’t tell Kim, at least.”
Dad thought for a second. “The girl you took to the prom? We told her.”
“No!” Jack flopped back in his chair and threw up his hands. “Oh, God, that’s why she kept looking at my butt. Oh, God. Don’t tell anyone else that story, OK?”
Dad nodded. “Yeah, we’ll keep it to ourselves. Just don’t date anyone ever, and no one will ever hear it.”
Shuddering, Jack replied, “Let’s change the subject. Speaking of dating, tell me about your first date.”
A flush rose quickly on Pop’s face. “Um, we never really had a date, per se.”
Dad nodded again and squeezed Pop’s shoulders. “In fact, the week we started having sex, we didn’t actually leave my place too much.”
“Never mind,” said Jack. “I don’t want to know.”
“We went out to that one restaurant, but Wilson didn’t actually eat there. Well, eat any food…”
Now it was Jack’s face that had the flush. “Dad! Not interested. Hey, here’s another question. If it involves sex though, lie and tell me a fake answer, OK? Pop, when was the first time Dad told you he loved you?”
Dad pulled back a bit and regarded Pop. “You probably have to think about that one, huh, Wilson?”
“Nope. I remember it clearly. It was the night Jack was born.”
That startled Dad. “That can’t be right.”
Pop nodded and began to draw patterns on Dad’s knee with his finger. “It is. You said it kidding around before then, but that was the first time you said it seriously to me.”
“No, I know I said it before then. What about when I got shot?”
“Nope.”
Dad had to think. “OK, yeah, that’s right. The first time we kissed?”
Pop laughed, seemingly at the memory of that time. “No.”
“Yeah, that wasn’t what I said at all, was it? OK, how about - um, give me a minute. During that picnic in the park?”
That was intriguing to Jack. “You guys had a picnic in the park once? How romantic.”
Pop glanced at Dad before replying. “Other people were actually having the picnic. We were just nearby, um, doing something else. But no, House, you didn’t say it then, either.”
Clapping his hands once, Dad responded, “I’ve got it! When you brought home that thing. You know the one, from that store.”
“Uh uh. You told the, er, thing that you loved it. That was all.”
“When we picked the surrogate.”
“Nope.”
“When we heard about the positive pregnancy test.”
Pop shook his head. “You refused to say anything for three days so as not to ‘jinx things.’”
“That doesn’t sound like me.” Pop raised one eyebrow, and Dad had to concede. “But it was me, so…” He thought again. “When we went to the ultrasound.”
“Nope, you told the surrogate you loved her. So did I.” Pop turned to Jack and leaned forward to pet his hands just once. “She was so great. Your mother gave us such a gift, Jack. There’s no way we could ever repay her.”
Dad was still looking a bit puzzled. “I really didn’t tell you until Jack was born? I’m kind of an asshole, aren’t I?”
“You got the point across in other ways.” Pop leaned against Dad and kissed him gently.
It would have been cruel to wish for a plane crash, so Jack wished instead that Elaine would run away with a Mexican telenovela star. It didn’t happen.
***
Every day of that summer, Jack expected to hear that Elaine was moving out and Dad was moving back in. Every day of that summer, he was disappointed.
At a loss to explain what was happening, or rather, not happening, he almost refused to take the trip to Europe in August. But Pop was so happy about it, so proud that they’d have this adventure together, that he kept his mouth shut, got his passport, and packed his clothes. He made one last pitch to Pop to invite Dad along, which was gently shot down, and then they were on the plane, flying to London, Elaine’s hand tucked into Pop’s.
Two days in London, two days around Stratford-upon-Avon, then through the Channel Tunnel (Elaine’s choice) to Paris. The Louvre and the Musée d’Orsay were both packed, but worth braving the crowds. The Eiffel Tower was disappointing to Jack, but Elaine found it enchanting, and her delight made Pop laugh joyfully. Jack looked away.
The view from the top of the South tower of Notre Dame was breathtaking. When he’d made it up the stairs, he’d first seen a guy about his own age, tall, with frosted hair, who’d smiled slightly and nodded at him. Jack went and stood by him - it was the best spot for the view - and took in the panorama.
He’d spotted the Arc de Triomphe and their hotel when he heard, down on the walkway, Elaine teasing Pop. Pop was smiling down at her and playfully kissing her ear.
The guy next to Jack noticed them as well. “Paris, City of Love,” he said, clearly amused.
“Fucking breeders,” Jack replied quietly. “I hate ‘em.” He stomped down the stairs and took refuge in the book shop.
***
It was stupid of him to play Trivial Pursuit with Dad. Geography, History, Science and Nature: he had to cede those before the first die was even thrown. The only saving grace was Dad’s terrible recall of names, particularly in the Entertainment category.
“C’mon, you have to give me this one,” Dad was saying.
“Nope,” Jack replied, holding the card close to his chest. “You have to say the name of the actor.”
“I can tell you just about every movie he’s been in. He was even in that one we all saw together back in May.” Dad brought his hand to his eyes as if that would help him think. “Crap, what was his name? Wilson would know; he was practically drooling over him.”
Jack’s heart dropped. He slapped the card on the table. “Peter Levitt.”
“That’s it!” Dad threw his hands up. “But you didn’t give me enough time. I would’ve come up with it.”
“No, you wouldn’t have.” Jack leaned forward and caught Dad’s eye. “And Pop wasn’t drooling over him; he was drooling over you.”
“Jack,” Dad said warningly, and dropped back in his chair.
He might at one time have given up, but he’d held onto the hope too long, the hope and the conviction that this was right, goddamn it. He wasn’t a deluded child of divorce, scheming to jam two incompatible people together for his sake. Pop and Dad fit, two halves of a whole, two songbirds mating for life, whatever cliché you could pull from the shelf. They belonged together, and no matter how much they’d tried, they didn’t work apart.
“Why haven’t you gone back to Pop? You know he’d get a divorce.”
Dad stared at him a long minute, and Jack took it, refusing to look away. Dad finally dropped his eyes to the table and began fidgeting with the game pieces, rolling them along his fingers.
“Elaine has been a great comfort to Wilson. She deserves to have him there to take care of her when she gets sick.”
“She’s only 50 years old. She’s not likely to get a chronic disease for several years, if ever. You’re going to let Pop go, just on the off chance that -” Jack stopped and thought. “Wait a minute. You’re talking about something specific, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” Dad was still not looking up. Jack refused to let the clacking of the game pieces as they knocked into each other be distracting.
“What is it?” he pressed.
“Within three months, Elaine will be diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer’s. That’ll be wrong, I think. It’s most likely Lewy body dementia.” Dad’s delivery was almost matter-of-fact, but Jack caught the disappointment behind it.
“You know for sure?”
Dad finally looked at Jack. “The tests will determine it conclusively, but yes, I’m sure.”
“Why haven’t you told her? Or Pop?”
Dad looked down again and placed his palms flat on the table before replying, “Even with all the advancements we’ve had in medicine over the past years, even with all we now know about the brain, there’s still nothing they can do to halt this. To tell Elaine or Wilson now would just cause them a lot of worry when there’s nothing to be done. The crucial thing is to make sure you have help lined up for when it gets bad, and Wilson will figure out what she’s got way before then.”
Jack closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. This was a disaster for Elaine. He didn’t know Lewy body specifically, but from what he did know, early onset dementias tended to hit harder, faster.
“But you don’t think Pop knows yet?”
“He’d ask me about it if he suspected anything.”
Jack let out a breath in relief. “Well, that’s good. You can take him away now, before he knows, and then he won’t feel like he has to stay with her. Elaine has a big family; they’ll take care of her when she’s sick.”
Astonishment played across Dad’s face. “Jack, I’m surprised at you. That’s devious and uncaring. Wasn’t it Wilson who raised you? You’re not making a good argument for nurture over nature.”
“Dad.” He felt inured to Elaine, numb. She’d be fine; she didn’t matter.
“In any case, I’m not heartless. Your mother has been good to you and Wilson. Don’t you think she deserves the ‘in sickness’ part of the wedding vows?”
Jack pushed out of his chair, the numbness giving way to anger. “She’s not my mother. She’s a step. I only have two parents, and I want them to be together. I want them to be happy. You’re condemning Pop to years of misery and yourself to more years alone. It’s stupid. You and Pop don’t care about the ‘forsaking all others’ vow, so why should the ‘in sickness’ vow be any different?”
“You’ve gone off the deep end. Are you not feeling well?” Dad walked over and put his hand on Jack’s forehead. “Do you have a fever?”
“I’m fine.” Jerking away from Dad, Jack went out to the living room and threw himself in a chair. Dad followed a few steps behind. “I’m just tired of you finding excuses to be miserable.”
“This is not an excuse. And I’m not miserable. I have you; you’re a constant source of amusement. And work’s been very interesting lately. There was this one case -”
“Not interested. And I’m not talking about you feeling challenged, or amused, or even satisfied. I want you to be happy.”
Dad sat in the other chair and clasped his hands together. “I’m not sure I’ve ever been happy. I take that back; when you were young there was a lot of happiness there. But I’ve always had high expectations for the world, and except for you, it mostly disappoints me.”
“What about Pop? Does he disappoint you?”
“There have been times. I have high expectations for him, too.” Dad’s lips curled up in amusement. “But he’s got a pretty good track record, as people-who-are-not-my-son go.”
“So why won’t you get back together with him?”
Another silent, intense gaze from Dad. Jack held his eyes there, but barely; he was so tired. Dad finally said, “In your entire life, Jack, have I ever played the ‘I’m the father, so end of discussion’ card with you?”
“No.”
“Well, I’m going to now. I’m the father, so end of discussion.” He nodded and got up from the chair. “Do you want a beer?”
“I’m not old enough,” Jack replied sulkily.
“C’mon, you’ve got to think farther ahead if you want your devious schemes to work. You should be getting me drunk and pliable to see if I’ll cave.”
“You’re back on Vicodin; you shouldn’t be drinking alcohol.” Jack was in no way ready to stop being sullen.
“You are your father’s son. As such, come on in the kitchen. You can make dinner while I kibitz.” He started walking away.
“Dad, I’m not letting it go.”
Dad turned back and nodded. “Spoken like a true House. Let it go for tonight or I’m starting in on the Scotch.”
“You’re a bastard,” Jack replied while getting up out of the chair.
“Actually, I guess technically you are, seeing as how same-sex marriage wasn’t legal in New Jersey when you were born.”
“Do you always have to have the last word?”
“Yes.”
***
They called Jack in early November to tell him about Elaine’s diagnosis.
Thanksgiving at home was strained and stressful, with an overabundance of false cheer. The only time Elaine’s brave smile faltered was around Dad. That he had been the one to diagnose her (Pop had insisted) seemed to be adding the final insult to her injury. Jack was glad to get back to college, although he worried about leaving Pop behind.
The Lewy body dementia, as it typically did according to Dad, took a progressive but vacillating course. There were stretches of time in which everything seemed almost normal, followed by quick downturns in her condition. Her short-term memory was the first thing to go. Several times, she called Jack, bright and cheery, and then complained to Pop bitterly a few hours later that Jack never talked to her any more.
The winter break was difficult as well. Elaine was in turns forgetful, moody, and vacant. Jack hid out at Dad’s place a lot and then felt guilty for not being around more. Spring break he did a volunteer trip to Costa Rica, and over the summer he stayed put in Michigan, claiming work and class obligations. He spent as much time as he could on the phone with Pop, talking about whatever Pop wanted, but he was unable to physically be around Elaine. He was gripped by an unshakable superstition that she was cursed, and he felt enormously guilty for having brought it on her.
Dad, of all people, talked Jack into getting counseling.
He came to think of the small, skinny room where the sessions were held as “the stall,” meaning toilet stall. He would come in, sit down, hang his head over the figurative porcelain god, and proceed to vomit out his insides for 49 minutes. He always felt a compulsion to brush his teeth and wash his face afterwards, but he did feel better.
After about six months, when he was down to dry heaves, he quit abruptly and never looked back.
Pop held out as long as he could with keeping Elaine at home, but after the third time she almost burned down the house due to her inattention, he finally agreed to put her in a nursing home. He chose a small one, specializing in dementia and Alzheimer’s, on a very pretty piece of land.
After his third year at Michigan, Jack went back to New Jersey for the summer. One pleasant day in June, he finally summoned up the strength to go see her. Pop had a patient emergency, so he asked Dad to go with him.
As they walked toward her room, Dad stopped at the nurses’ station but waved Jack on.
“Jack!” Elaine cried happily as he entered her room. “It’s nice to see you. You’ve been so busy; I’m glad you could come by.” It seemed he’d come on a good day.
“Hi, Elaine.”
He’d been worried that he’d feel too awkward, but a smile came easily to him. He gave her a hug and she leaned into it, patting his back.
“Sit, sit.” She was sitting up in her bed, and she offered him the chair next to it. He brought it around so he could face her. She immediately started chattering happily, telling him about the home, the nurses, and the other residents.
Suddenly, her face fell, her eyes grew wide, and she stopped mid-sentence. Jack turned to see where she was looking and found Dad was in the doorway.
Elaine’s shriek was startling. “You! Get out!”
Dad ducked his head.
“You’re the whore that keeps trying to sleep with my husband! Get out!” Jack glanced at Elaine; her face was red and there were tears in her eyes.
“I’ll be in the lobby when you’re ready, Jack,” Dad said quietly as he left.
Elaine took a deep breath to calm herself, blinked twice, and turned back to Jack. “What was I saying before that interruption? Oh, yes, the rabbi that comes by is such a nice man…”
Jack nodded and smiled, but his attention was distracted by a nurse coming in the door carrying a syringe. Before she got two steps in, Dad’s arm reached in, caught her, and pulled her back out of the room. Elaine didn’t seem to notice and kept talking. Jack tried to focus on her, but found himself eavesdropping on Dad’s conversation with the nurse.
“What are you going to give her?” Dad asked.
“It’s medicine to calm her down. Paranoid, persecutory delusions are common with her type of dementia.” The nurse was practical, efficient.
“Yes, I know, I’m a doctor. But she’s not having a paranoid episode; you don’t need to give her anything.”
“You were there. She screamed at you,” the nurse replied skeptically.
“And rightly so. I am the whore that keeps trying to sleep with her husband. She’s fine. Let her be.”
Jack stayed for an hour, and hugged Elaine when he left. She cried gently and patted his arm. “You’re a good boy, Jack. I would have liked to have been your mother.”
(Continued)
(Back)
They went to a movie matinee that afternoon. In line for snacks, Pop and Dad argued over who would get to sit next to Jack. The argument, though totally without acrimony, was rip-roaring, so Jack stayed out of it completely.
As they settled in their seats - Dad had won the argument with “You get the August trip to Europe with him; surely I can claim one lousy movie.” - Jack wondered how they’d missed the obvious: that he had a left and a right side and therefore both could sit next to him. He got his answer just after the lights went down, when Dad and Pop threaded their fingers together.
The action-comedy Jack had picked was excellent entertainment but terrible art, and as such provided fodder for lively debates throughout the rest of the evening. Several times, Jack hid a smug smile within a laugh over a comment, pleased with how well his plan had worked.
Monday morning was lazy, but they spent the afternoon in Manhattan sightseeing. Funny, they lived relatively close to the city, but Jack had hardly spent any time there.
They went to a new restaurant on the edge of Greenwich Village for dinner on a recommendation from one of Pop’s friends. As they got to the door, Jack noticed a guy he knew from Michigan standing nearby.
“Josh, is that you?”
“Hey, Jack, what are you doing here?” Josh grabbed his shoulder, and it made him flinch a little. Josh was a second string cornerback at Michigan, 6’2” and 190 pounds of solid muscle.
“We just came in for some touristy stuff and dinner. Let me introduce you. Dad, Pop, this is Josh Venegas; he goes to Michigan. Josh, this is my father, Greg House, and my other father, James Wilson. They’re doctors over in Princeton.”
“Dr. House, Dr. Wilson, nice to meet you.” Josh smiled, and they all shook hands.
Josh turned back to Jack, shaking his head slightly. “This is a surprise, Jack. You have two dads; you’re not shittin’ me?” Dad tensed up and Pop cast him a worried glance.
“Oh,” Josh said in an aside to Dad and Pop, “sorry about my language there.”
Jack laughed. “Yeah, two dads.”
“Sorry, I was just surprised. No offense, Dr. Wilson and Dr. House, but when I first met Jack I thought he came from an abusive household. Because the only person I’ve ever known who talked less about his family was this abused kid I was trying to mentor.” Josh shook his head. “But Jack, from the little you actually said, it sounded like your father had multiple personality disorder or something. Two dads, that makes a hell of a lot more sense.”
Jack laughed again, and this time Dad and Pop chuckled too.
“Josh, are you waiting for someone?”
“Yeah, my cousin. She just called and said she’s going to be another hour. Draaaag.” It was an inside joke, too complicated to explain, but Jack and Josh got a chuckle out of it.
Smiling, Pop offered, “Josh, since you have to wait, why don’t you have dinner with us?”
“That’d be nice. Are you sure I wouldn’t be imposing?”
“Not at all.”
Dad had taken a seat on a bench. Pop looked over at him.
“House, you look comfortable where you are. Why don’t Jack and I go in and check whether there’s a wait?”
Dad waved them in, and Josh moved closer and bent to ask Dad something.
Pop threw his arm around Jack and hugged him on the way in the door. “You are such a sight for sore eyes,” Pop breathed in his ear, making him laugh.
They approached the hostess, arms still around each other. She thought a table for four could be ready in a few minutes, but stepped away to check.
Pop’s eyes were shining, and Jack was getting a little embarrassed by the love pouring off him. “I really missed you when you were away.”
Smiling, Jack rubbed Pop’s arm. “I wasn’t gone that long.” He hugged Pop again and noticed over Pop’s shoulder that Dad was coming in the door, followed by Josh. They were blocked by a cluster of people in the entry, and for once, Dad seemed okay with letting others go first. Jack laughed and eased out of the hug, although he kept his arm around Pop’s shoulder.
Jack was looking for the hostess again when he overheard a weaselly-sounding man behind them. “Can you believe this neighborhood? Old queens with boys who get younger every day. It’s a disgrace.”
Pop was oblivious, but Jack noticed Dad had heard. Dad strode over to the weasel man and replied, “I happen to know them. They’re father and son. I’m an old queen, though; want to make something of it?” Dad’s tone was bland, but his eyes were flashing. He was holding his cane slightly off the ground, in a position that wasn’t overtly threatening but was prepared for action.
“I, um -” was as far as the man got before Josh stepped up and slipped his right arm around Dad’s waist.
“Honey, don’t be starting something right before dinner,” Josh said and smiled at the weasel man. He then slowly stretched his left arm across to pat Dad’s chest once lightly, giving him a half hug. The weasel man stared at the flexing of Josh’s bicep and tricep, which was undoubtedly the reaction Josh intended to provoke.
“You’ll forgive us if we go now, won’t you?” he purred to the weasel man, who nodded his head so fast he looked almost like a bobble-head doll.
Josh led Dad over to where Pop and Jack stood, keeping his arm lightly around Dad’s waist. Jack tried hard not to laugh and ruin the effect for weasel man.
“Is he still looking?” Josh asked quietly.
“Yep,” Jack replied.
Josh turned to Dad with a sly smile. “If I kiss you, will you pay for my dinner?”
Dad scoffed. “For someone who’s dating me, you sure don’t know me very well.”
Pop leaned in a bit. “If you kiss him,” he said in an undertone, “I’ll pay for your dinner.”
“That’s definitely more typical -” Dad began, but any further words were cut off by the press of Josh’s lips against his. The kiss lasted just a few seconds, and then Josh put his head on Dad’s shoulder.
“Did he see?”
“I think so,” Jack replied. “In any case, he’s leaving.”
“Good,” said Josh and stood up straight. He kept his hand on Dad’s back, however, until the hostess finally led them to their table.
“I hate crap like that,” Josh commented, once they were settled at the table.
“The kissing?” Dad replied. “I found it rather pleasant. Not as much tongue as I usually prefer.”
Pop smirked and nudged Dad in the side.
“No,” Josh continued, as he opened his menu, “the stupid crap people say. Everybody thinks they gotta comment on everyone else’s life. My family and I get it a lot for being Puerto Rican. ‘Go back to your own country,’ and that kind of nonsense. My sister carried around fact sheets from the Puerto Rico Tourism Authority for a while, just to try to educate people. Never seemed to work. Eh, screw ‘em.”
He looked over his menu at Pop. “Are you really buying me dinner? I eat kind of a lot.”
Pop smiled. “Yes, I’m really buying, for you and Jack.”
“And me too, right?” Dad looked over at Pop, although he didn’t look too concerned.
“After all these years? That goes without saying.”
It was a great dinner. The food was nothing special - Pop had made better - but the company was superb. Josh, true to his word, ate more than the three others put together, and ended up taking care of the tip as his way of saying thanks.
Dad hugged Josh goodbye after dinner, which earned him raised eyebrows from both Pop and Jack.
“What? The man’s kissed me; the least I can do is let him cop a feel of my ass before he goes.”
Josh shook his head and clapped Jack on the back. “Jack, buddy, I understand you a lot better now than I used to. You should think about pledging my frat in the fall.”
“A jock fraternity?” A cab pulled up, and Pop and Dad began to get in.
“Hey, we need someone to get the GPA up. Seriously, the guys’d like you. Think about it.”
Josh shut the cab door behind Jack and waved as they left. The last thing Jack saw was a teenage girl jumping into Josh’s arms.
By Friday night, Jack had run through all the current college news and was in the mood for some nostalgia. The three of them were back in the family room, Pop and Dad on the couch, Jack in the recliner.
“Tell me a story from when I was little,” he said.
“What about the night you were born?” Pop replied with a smile.
“I’ve heard that a million times. A different story.”
Pop thought for a second. “There was the Diaper Rash Debacle when you were one.”
Dad winced. “You’d think two doctors could have handled that one a little better, but hey, we’re not pediatricians.”
“Speaking of which, your pediatrician said it was the worst she’d ever seen in twenty years of practice. Nasty. You screamed for almost a week straight, and then you developed a diaper phobia.”
“I had to pin you with my cane just to get the damn thing on you sometimes.”
Pop and Dad were starting to almost overlap sentences at this point. “We had to switch to cloth, and boy, that was not nice.”
“Marjorie threatened to quit three times before you finally got over the phobia and went back to disposables.”
Jack shuddered. “That sounds gross. Did you ever find out what caused it?”
Dad’s look was smug. “I am an excellent diagnostician; of course I figured it out.”
Pop’s look was exasperated. “Someone was feeding you chocolate on the sly, even though we had agreed not to let you have caffeine until you were older.”
It was hard to imagine a wistful expression on Dad’s face, but this one came close. “You were so happy when you ate chocolate, Jack. You can’t even imagine how happy you were.”
“But I’m allergic to chocolate,” Jack noted.
“One of the very, very few who truly are; otherwise, we would have realized it sooner,” Dad replied cheerfully.
Pop shook his head. “That whole period was torture. But there was one silver lining to that cloud.”
Dad leaned forward and smirked. “We got a great story to tell all your future girlfriends. Or boyfriends, whichever.”
Jack was aghast. “What?”
The shared smile between Pop and Dad did not reassure him. Pop replied, “All parents need an embarrassing story to tell to their children’s prospective mates. We were lucky that we got yours so early.”
“Please tell me you didn’t tell Kim, at least.”
Dad thought for a second. “The girl you took to the prom? We told her.”
“No!” Jack flopped back in his chair and threw up his hands. “Oh, God, that’s why she kept looking at my butt. Oh, God. Don’t tell anyone else that story, OK?”
Dad nodded. “Yeah, we’ll keep it to ourselves. Just don’t date anyone ever, and no one will ever hear it.”
Shuddering, Jack replied, “Let’s change the subject. Speaking of dating, tell me about your first date.”
A flush rose quickly on Pop’s face. “Um, we never really had a date, per se.”
Dad nodded again and squeezed Pop’s shoulders. “In fact, the week we started having sex, we didn’t actually leave my place too much.”
“Never mind,” said Jack. “I don’t want to know.”
“We went out to that one restaurant, but Wilson didn’t actually eat there. Well, eat any food…”
Now it was Jack’s face that had the flush. “Dad! Not interested. Hey, here’s another question. If it involves sex though, lie and tell me a fake answer, OK? Pop, when was the first time Dad told you he loved you?”
Dad pulled back a bit and regarded Pop. “You probably have to think about that one, huh, Wilson?”
“Nope. I remember it clearly. It was the night Jack was born.”
That startled Dad. “That can’t be right.”
Pop nodded and began to draw patterns on Dad’s knee with his finger. “It is. You said it kidding around before then, but that was the first time you said it seriously to me.”
“No, I know I said it before then. What about when I got shot?”
“Nope.”
Dad had to think. “OK, yeah, that’s right. The first time we kissed?”
Pop laughed, seemingly at the memory of that time. “No.”
“Yeah, that wasn’t what I said at all, was it? OK, how about - um, give me a minute. During that picnic in the park?”
That was intriguing to Jack. “You guys had a picnic in the park once? How romantic.”
Pop glanced at Dad before replying. “Other people were actually having the picnic. We were just nearby, um, doing something else. But no, House, you didn’t say it then, either.”
Clapping his hands once, Dad responded, “I’ve got it! When you brought home that thing. You know the one, from that store.”
“Uh uh. You told the, er, thing that you loved it. That was all.”
“When we picked the surrogate.”
“Nope.”
“When we heard about the positive pregnancy test.”
Pop shook his head. “You refused to say anything for three days so as not to ‘jinx things.’”
“That doesn’t sound like me.” Pop raised one eyebrow, and Dad had to concede. “But it was me, so…” He thought again. “When we went to the ultrasound.”
“Nope, you told the surrogate you loved her. So did I.” Pop turned to Jack and leaned forward to pet his hands just once. “She was so great. Your mother gave us such a gift, Jack. There’s no way we could ever repay her.”
Dad was still looking a bit puzzled. “I really didn’t tell you until Jack was born? I’m kind of an asshole, aren’t I?”
“You got the point across in other ways.” Pop leaned against Dad and kissed him gently.
It would have been cruel to wish for a plane crash, so Jack wished instead that Elaine would run away with a Mexican telenovela star. It didn’t happen.
***
Every day of that summer, Jack expected to hear that Elaine was moving out and Dad was moving back in. Every day of that summer, he was disappointed.
At a loss to explain what was happening, or rather, not happening, he almost refused to take the trip to Europe in August. But Pop was so happy about it, so proud that they’d have this adventure together, that he kept his mouth shut, got his passport, and packed his clothes. He made one last pitch to Pop to invite Dad along, which was gently shot down, and then they were on the plane, flying to London, Elaine’s hand tucked into Pop’s.
Two days in London, two days around Stratford-upon-Avon, then through the Channel Tunnel (Elaine’s choice) to Paris. The Louvre and the Musée d’Orsay were both packed, but worth braving the crowds. The Eiffel Tower was disappointing to Jack, but Elaine found it enchanting, and her delight made Pop laugh joyfully. Jack looked away.
The view from the top of the South tower of Notre Dame was breathtaking. When he’d made it up the stairs, he’d first seen a guy about his own age, tall, with frosted hair, who’d smiled slightly and nodded at him. Jack went and stood by him - it was the best spot for the view - and took in the panorama.
He’d spotted the Arc de Triomphe and their hotel when he heard, down on the walkway, Elaine teasing Pop. Pop was smiling down at her and playfully kissing her ear.
The guy next to Jack noticed them as well. “Paris, City of Love,” he said, clearly amused.
“Fucking breeders,” Jack replied quietly. “I hate ‘em.” He stomped down the stairs and took refuge in the book shop.
***
It was stupid of him to play Trivial Pursuit with Dad. Geography, History, Science and Nature: he had to cede those before the first die was even thrown. The only saving grace was Dad’s terrible recall of names, particularly in the Entertainment category.
“C’mon, you have to give me this one,” Dad was saying.
“Nope,” Jack replied, holding the card close to his chest. “You have to say the name of the actor.”
“I can tell you just about every movie he’s been in. He was even in that one we all saw together back in May.” Dad brought his hand to his eyes as if that would help him think. “Crap, what was his name? Wilson would know; he was practically drooling over him.”
Jack’s heart dropped. He slapped the card on the table. “Peter Levitt.”
“That’s it!” Dad threw his hands up. “But you didn’t give me enough time. I would’ve come up with it.”
“No, you wouldn’t have.” Jack leaned forward and caught Dad’s eye. “And Pop wasn’t drooling over him; he was drooling over you.”
“Jack,” Dad said warningly, and dropped back in his chair.
He might at one time have given up, but he’d held onto the hope too long, the hope and the conviction that this was right, goddamn it. He wasn’t a deluded child of divorce, scheming to jam two incompatible people together for his sake. Pop and Dad fit, two halves of a whole, two songbirds mating for life, whatever cliché you could pull from the shelf. They belonged together, and no matter how much they’d tried, they didn’t work apart.
“Why haven’t you gone back to Pop? You know he’d get a divorce.”
Dad stared at him a long minute, and Jack took it, refusing to look away. Dad finally dropped his eyes to the table and began fidgeting with the game pieces, rolling them along his fingers.
“Elaine has been a great comfort to Wilson. She deserves to have him there to take care of her when she gets sick.”
“She’s only 50 years old. She’s not likely to get a chronic disease for several years, if ever. You’re going to let Pop go, just on the off chance that -” Jack stopped and thought. “Wait a minute. You’re talking about something specific, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” Dad was still not looking up. Jack refused to let the clacking of the game pieces as they knocked into each other be distracting.
“What is it?” he pressed.
“Within three months, Elaine will be diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer’s. That’ll be wrong, I think. It’s most likely Lewy body dementia.” Dad’s delivery was almost matter-of-fact, but Jack caught the disappointment behind it.
“You know for sure?”
Dad finally looked at Jack. “The tests will determine it conclusively, but yes, I’m sure.”
“Why haven’t you told her? Or Pop?”
Dad looked down again and placed his palms flat on the table before replying, “Even with all the advancements we’ve had in medicine over the past years, even with all we now know about the brain, there’s still nothing they can do to halt this. To tell Elaine or Wilson now would just cause them a lot of worry when there’s nothing to be done. The crucial thing is to make sure you have help lined up for when it gets bad, and Wilson will figure out what she’s got way before then.”
Jack closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. This was a disaster for Elaine. He didn’t know Lewy body specifically, but from what he did know, early onset dementias tended to hit harder, faster.
“But you don’t think Pop knows yet?”
“He’d ask me about it if he suspected anything.”
Jack let out a breath in relief. “Well, that’s good. You can take him away now, before he knows, and then he won’t feel like he has to stay with her. Elaine has a big family; they’ll take care of her when she’s sick.”
Astonishment played across Dad’s face. “Jack, I’m surprised at you. That’s devious and uncaring. Wasn’t it Wilson who raised you? You’re not making a good argument for nurture over nature.”
“Dad.” He felt inured to Elaine, numb. She’d be fine; she didn’t matter.
“In any case, I’m not heartless. Your mother has been good to you and Wilson. Don’t you think she deserves the ‘in sickness’ part of the wedding vows?”
Jack pushed out of his chair, the numbness giving way to anger. “She’s not my mother. She’s a step. I only have two parents, and I want them to be together. I want them to be happy. You’re condemning Pop to years of misery and yourself to more years alone. It’s stupid. You and Pop don’t care about the ‘forsaking all others’ vow, so why should the ‘in sickness’ vow be any different?”
“You’ve gone off the deep end. Are you not feeling well?” Dad walked over and put his hand on Jack’s forehead. “Do you have a fever?”
“I’m fine.” Jerking away from Dad, Jack went out to the living room and threw himself in a chair. Dad followed a few steps behind. “I’m just tired of you finding excuses to be miserable.”
“This is not an excuse. And I’m not miserable. I have you; you’re a constant source of amusement. And work’s been very interesting lately. There was this one case -”
“Not interested. And I’m not talking about you feeling challenged, or amused, or even satisfied. I want you to be happy.”
Dad sat in the other chair and clasped his hands together. “I’m not sure I’ve ever been happy. I take that back; when you were young there was a lot of happiness there. But I’ve always had high expectations for the world, and except for you, it mostly disappoints me.”
“What about Pop? Does he disappoint you?”
“There have been times. I have high expectations for him, too.” Dad’s lips curled up in amusement. “But he’s got a pretty good track record, as people-who-are-not-my-son go.”
“So why won’t you get back together with him?”
Another silent, intense gaze from Dad. Jack held his eyes there, but barely; he was so tired. Dad finally said, “In your entire life, Jack, have I ever played the ‘I’m the father, so end of discussion’ card with you?”
“No.”
“Well, I’m going to now. I’m the father, so end of discussion.” He nodded and got up from the chair. “Do you want a beer?”
“I’m not old enough,” Jack replied sulkily.
“C’mon, you’ve got to think farther ahead if you want your devious schemes to work. You should be getting me drunk and pliable to see if I’ll cave.”
“You’re back on Vicodin; you shouldn’t be drinking alcohol.” Jack was in no way ready to stop being sullen.
“You are your father’s son. As such, come on in the kitchen. You can make dinner while I kibitz.” He started walking away.
“Dad, I’m not letting it go.”
Dad turned back and nodded. “Spoken like a true House. Let it go for tonight or I’m starting in on the Scotch.”
“You’re a bastard,” Jack replied while getting up out of the chair.
“Actually, I guess technically you are, seeing as how same-sex marriage wasn’t legal in New Jersey when you were born.”
“Do you always have to have the last word?”
“Yes.”
***
They called Jack in early November to tell him about Elaine’s diagnosis.
Thanksgiving at home was strained and stressful, with an overabundance of false cheer. The only time Elaine’s brave smile faltered was around Dad. That he had been the one to diagnose her (Pop had insisted) seemed to be adding the final insult to her injury. Jack was glad to get back to college, although he worried about leaving Pop behind.
The Lewy body dementia, as it typically did according to Dad, took a progressive but vacillating course. There were stretches of time in which everything seemed almost normal, followed by quick downturns in her condition. Her short-term memory was the first thing to go. Several times, she called Jack, bright and cheery, and then complained to Pop bitterly a few hours later that Jack never talked to her any more.
The winter break was difficult as well. Elaine was in turns forgetful, moody, and vacant. Jack hid out at Dad’s place a lot and then felt guilty for not being around more. Spring break he did a volunteer trip to Costa Rica, and over the summer he stayed put in Michigan, claiming work and class obligations. He spent as much time as he could on the phone with Pop, talking about whatever Pop wanted, but he was unable to physically be around Elaine. He was gripped by an unshakable superstition that she was cursed, and he felt enormously guilty for having brought it on her.
Dad, of all people, talked Jack into getting counseling.
He came to think of the small, skinny room where the sessions were held as “the stall,” meaning toilet stall. He would come in, sit down, hang his head over the figurative porcelain god, and proceed to vomit out his insides for 49 minutes. He always felt a compulsion to brush his teeth and wash his face afterwards, but he did feel better.
After about six months, when he was down to dry heaves, he quit abruptly and never looked back.
Pop held out as long as he could with keeping Elaine at home, but after the third time she almost burned down the house due to her inattention, he finally agreed to put her in a nursing home. He chose a small one, specializing in dementia and Alzheimer’s, on a very pretty piece of land.
After his third year at Michigan, Jack went back to New Jersey for the summer. One pleasant day in June, he finally summoned up the strength to go see her. Pop had a patient emergency, so he asked Dad to go with him.
As they walked toward her room, Dad stopped at the nurses’ station but waved Jack on.
“Jack!” Elaine cried happily as he entered her room. “It’s nice to see you. You’ve been so busy; I’m glad you could come by.” It seemed he’d come on a good day.
“Hi, Elaine.”
He’d been worried that he’d feel too awkward, but a smile came easily to him. He gave her a hug and she leaned into it, patting his back.
“Sit, sit.” She was sitting up in her bed, and she offered him the chair next to it. He brought it around so he could face her. She immediately started chattering happily, telling him about the home, the nurses, and the other residents.
Suddenly, her face fell, her eyes grew wide, and she stopped mid-sentence. Jack turned to see where she was looking and found Dad was in the doorway.
Elaine’s shriek was startling. “You! Get out!”
Dad ducked his head.
“You’re the whore that keeps trying to sleep with my husband! Get out!” Jack glanced at Elaine; her face was red and there were tears in her eyes.
“I’ll be in the lobby when you’re ready, Jack,” Dad said quietly as he left.
Elaine took a deep breath to calm herself, blinked twice, and turned back to Jack. “What was I saying before that interruption? Oh, yes, the rabbi that comes by is such a nice man…”
Jack nodded and smiled, but his attention was distracted by a nurse coming in the door carrying a syringe. Before she got two steps in, Dad’s arm reached in, caught her, and pulled her back out of the room. Elaine didn’t seem to notice and kept talking. Jack tried to focus on her, but found himself eavesdropping on Dad’s conversation with the nurse.
“What are you going to give her?” Dad asked.
“It’s medicine to calm her down. Paranoid, persecutory delusions are common with her type of dementia.” The nurse was practical, efficient.
“Yes, I know, I’m a doctor. But she’s not having a paranoid episode; you don’t need to give her anything.”
“You were there. She screamed at you,” the nurse replied skeptically.
“And rightly so. I am the whore that keeps trying to sleep with her husband. She’s fine. Let her be.”
Jack stayed for an hour, and hugged Elaine when he left. She cried gently and patted his arm. “You’re a good boy, Jack. I would have liked to have been your mother.”
(Continued)