Fic: No Regrets, Part 3
Part 3: Take the Cake
Eric hummed softy to himself as he poured his traditional mid-afternoon cup of coffee, only mildly aware that Nula was eying him suspiciously with her almond eyes.
“No one should be this happy to come back to work after the holidays,” she said petulantly. “It’s sickening.”
Eric smirked. “Well it’s not like I wouldn’t want more vacation. It’s just that the vacation I did have was pretty nice this year.”
“I bet. Must have been a pretty lively holiday, with Scot there.”
Eric concentrated on stirring his coffee so as not to blush when he had to fight the urge to tell her that Scot was not the only thing that had made it lively.
“Speaking of lively,” Nula continued, “That was some Christmas party. Are all your parties so entertaining?”
“Well, Sam’s birthday is coming up.” Eric laughed. “So you’ll just have to wait till then to find out. And I’ll make sure we invite George, too. I’m pretty sure you livened up the party for him,” he added with a teasing wink.
Nula rolled her eyes and blushed beneath her faint freckles. “Uh huh, whatever. So I’m invited to Sam’s birthday? Is it okay if we talk about him now then?” she taunted.
Eric gave her a mild glare. He didn’t really like to be reminded of his all too numerous insecurities regarding Sam. “Fine, fine. If you must.”
“Well, good then. Because I think you should have Sam and Scot here to watch a taping. I think they’d love it."
Before Eric had a chance to respond, the sound of footsteps behind him alerted him to the arrival of Larry, the balding middle-aged former hockey player who Eric had co-anchored with in the past for some of the network’s shows. “Hey, Larry, how’s it going,” he said with a brief nod of recognition.
Larry stopped short a few feet away from the coffee maker, eyes darting about like he’d rather be somewhere else. It occurred to Eric then that he hadn’t had direct contact with too many of his coworkers lately, as many of them had been away covering the World Juniors, or out on vacation. He realized now that his optimism about being treated the same around the office had been a bit premature.
Larry finally unfroze and poured himself some coffee. “Hey, Eric,” he said while steadfastly avoiding Eric's gaze. He left the coffee black, even though Eric knew the man preferred more cream and sugar than should be allowed, and rapidly exited the room as if someone had pulled the fire alarm.
Eric’s stomach dropped and the smell of the coffee in his hand was suddenly threatening to make him sick. Larry hadn't done anything direct, of course. He hadn't yelled out "faggot" or sneered at him in disgust; but then again, that would almost have been better for Eric as it would have thrown him into a fighting stance rather than into a pool of self-pity. “I don’t think everyone around here is ready for Sam and Scot,” he muttered to Nula.
“It doesn’t really matter if they are, Eric,” Nula said pointedly. “It matters if you are. It may take people some time but they’ll get over it eventually and things will go back to normal.”
“And what if they don’t? What if they never treat me the same way?” Even to himself, he sounded like a lonely outcast child, whining to his parents that he would never be able to make friends.
“What do you care about Larry and people like him? Are they more important to you than Sam is? Or Scot?” Nula didn’t always get so personal with him, but lately she’d been getting bolder as Eric had been shutting her out less. Now though he rather regretting fostering the friendship, as when she put it that way, all Eric felt was a deep shame for his blatant shallowness. Shame that he probably should have felt more of in the past.
He was saved from wallowing in the feeling by the buzz of his phone. “We’re done with everything crucial for the day, right? That’s Sam, he probably needs me to pick up Scot.”
Nula nodded. “Family comes first,” she said.
*
By the time he’d finished settling everything at work for the day Eric was running late, so he picked up Scot from Joey’s house. He was glad the boys had patched things up, as he’d much rather Scot spend time with the strangely sweet Joey than the neighborhood juvenile delinquent.
“How was your first day back at school?” he asked as Scot clambered into the car with a math book open in his arms and a pencil lodged behind his ear.
“Alright,” Scot said. “But I have a lot of homework and I didn’t get it all done at Joey’s.”
“Mhm.” Eric nodded absentmindedly. “You want to go to the rink and skate for a little while?”
“Eric, I just said I have to finish my homework,” Scot answered with a patronizing roll of his eyes.
“What? All work and no play?”
“A dad is supposed to make you do your homework,” Scot continued in his condescending tone.
“Ah, right, right. I’ll add that to my list of parental duties.”
Truthfully, he was thankful Scot had the impetus to do his homework on all his own, as he was fairly certain he was lacking in the skills necessary to properly discipline a wayward child. He and Sam were unusually lucky, it seemed, to be raising a kid whose biggest day-to-day problem, despite having led what many would consider a traumatic life, was what to wear each morning.
“Well, do you need any help?” Eric asked, eyeing Scot’s still-open math book with apprehension as he tried to recall what all the symbols on the page stood for.
“Maybe you could help me check it over when I’m done,” Scot replied amiably, sticking his pencil in his mouth and giving it a good chew. “But we should probably wait for Sam, too.”
Eric rolled his eyes. Scot had figured out pretty quickly that Sam was the one with the academic brains in the household. But he wasn’t entirely adept at presenting his knowledge in eleven-year-old-language, so Eric often stood by as a translator.
“Yeah, he’ll be here in a little while.” He found himself smiling at the thought. “We’re going out to dinner with Joan and Hank to meet her new friend, remember.”
Scot nodded enthusiastically as they pulled up in front of the house. Inside, he set up his book at the kitchen table and quickly got back to work. Eric poured him a glass of milk and grabbed an apple for himself, watching over Scot's shoulder as the boy completed a few algebra problems and nibbled on the end of his eraser after each step.
“Eric, do you like Sam more now?” Scot asked nonchalantly as he worked.
“What?” Eric nearly dropped his fruit. He ducked down to catch Scot's gaze, frightened that he may have heard, or, god forbid, seen something that a child shouldn’t see. They’d gotten that lock, but every once in a while they’d engaged in foreplay downstairs before making their way up to the bedroom. It had always been well past Scot’s bedtime, though. “Why would you say that?”
“You smile at each other more,” Scot informed him.
Eric turned away, rearranging a few magnets on the refrigerator as he tossed the remaining bit of apple core into the trash. “We’ve liked each other for a long time, Scot. I guess we’re just happy that you’re here. Maybe that’s why we smile more.”
Scot grinned his crooked-toothed smile. “Well that’s nice, but I can tell the difference between when you smile at me and when you smile at each other. And you’ve definitely been smiling at each other more.”
The kid was unusually and annoyingly perceptive, Eric thought, but he was broaching territory Eric was not comfortable discussing with anyone-not even Sam-and least of all a child that was supposed to be in his care. He fleetingly wondered at what point one was supposed to have “the talk” with a young boy. Well, whenever it was, he’d leave that to Sam.
“I guess . . . maybe I’ve been treating him a little better. I kind of got caught up in my new job, and being on TV . . . maybe I wasn’t being the best partner.”
Scot nodded. He didn’t have any evidence to contradict that, as he’d seen how Sam was clearly the one who spent more time taking care of both him and the household in general. “And you were pretending not to be gay,” he added.
Startled, Eric’s eyes shot over to study Scot’s face. “So?”
“So, did Sam want to pretend to be not gay too?” Scot asked. His math book was pushed aside, his homework completely forgotten, and his body language showed that he was now complete vested in their discussion.
“It’s complicated, Scot,” he began, but then thought better of it. “Well, no, not really.”
“But he did it anyways, because he wanted you to like him.”
Three blinks of Scot’s eyes passed, his focus unwavering. Eric wanted nothing more than to turn around, mutter some noncommittal discussion-ender, and make his way out... but he found he couldn’t tear himself away from Scot’s gaze.
Scot continued on as if Eric needed clarification on what he had said. “You know, like how I played hockey because I wanted you to like me. Although it was kinda fun . . . but I think I’d rather just play with friends than be on a real team.”
Eric nodded. Hockey, thank god. Something he could talk about. “Well, yeah, you can always play with me or with Joey or Ryan, and when you get a little older you could do pick up games with friends . . . hey maybe we should teach Sam how to play, huh?” He laughed. He’d gotten Sam in a pair of skates before, but for all Sam’s abilities, physical prowess was not one of them. Sam was an adorably uncoordinated mess on ice.
Scot nodded. “So did it make you like me more?”
Eric frowned, disappointed his attempt to derail the conversation had clearly failed. “No, Scot . . . I should never have pressured you into doing something you didn’t like . . . and you shouldn’t ever let people change who you are in order to get their love.”
Scot waved his pencil in front of Eric’s face “I know that. I mean, everyone knows that. But they still try and change sometimes to make other people like them.”
“Well, they shouldn’t."
“Not ever?”
“No, not ever.”
“But Sam did it.”
Eric opened his mouth to say something in response but the only thing that came to mind was oh . . . shit.
***
Eric scrunched his lips into a grimace as they were seated around the table at their neighborhood Italian restaurant. “Why are they still playing Christmas carols after Christmas? Does this holiday never end?”
He mostly said it to annoy Scot, though the normally saccharin holiday had not been as bad this year. The whole season seemed much more palatable through the lens of Scot’s excitement, Scot’s themed pancake breakfasts, and Scot’s homemade gifts.
“Some people celebrate all the way up until the 6th of January for Three King’s Day,” Scot threw back at him. “So the music is still perfectly acceptable.”
Sam gave them both an amused smirk. He was evidently enjoying watching someone else put Eric in his place for a change, as he’d mostly had the job to himself for the past five years.
Joan entered then with Hank and the man she had just recently begun dating in tow. In the past Eric had done everything he could to avoid Joan’s little “litmus tests,” which was the term she had so aptly coined for her habit of subjecting her potential love interests to both her son and her gay brother as quickly as possible to determine if they were worth her time of day. As much as he understood why she considered him (or him and Sam, really) important enough to base her love life on, it never made Eric feel good to find out that someone had been crossed off her list because of their stance on homosexuality. Although as Sam had pointed out, he wouldn’t want an asshole hanging around his sister and nephew anyways . . . he just wished he didn’t have to personally be the determining factor. But in the generous mood he’d been in lately he’d decided a family-style double date sounded less than horrific, and Scot and Hank got along so well it seemed like a good idea to give them opportunities to spend time together.
Hank skipped up to the table, where he threw out his arms to receive his now-customary hug and kiss on the cheek from Scot. Then abruptly he turned to Eric and gave him a hug as well before doing the same to Sam. “Hi Uncle Eric! Hi Uncle Sam!” he beamed while Eric marveled to himself at how he’d never have expected to receive-or enjoy-affection from his nephew before Scot had come into his life.
They all stood as Joan walked up behind him, her arm around a tall man with a slightly receding hairline. “Well, gentlemen, this is David. David, this is my brother Eric and his partner, Sam.”
David shook their hands amiably. “Nice to meet you.” He made firm eye contact with both of them, something Eric had come to know from experience was a positive indicator.
“And this young man is Scot,” Joan added.
Scot thrust out his hand. “It’s very nice to meet you, sir. Joan is a wonderful lady and Hank is a great kid, so you’re very lucky to be getting to know them.”
David gave him a surprised look but recovered quickly, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “You know, I think you’re probably right about that. Thanks for the heads up, buddy.”
“My pleasure,” Scot nodded.
Joan giggled behind her hand and David turned back to her with a pleased grin.
So far, so good, Eric thought as they were seated and began the customary getting-to-know-you banter. Maybe this time Joan had found someone that had some potential. She had very high standards-as well she should have-and was wary of letting people into her life as she was always aware she had Hank to think of, which meant she hadn’t had many successful relationships since her divorce.
The children were engaged in some sort of rhythmic hand-clapping game, but they stopped when the waitress brought out a basket of bread. Hank tore into a piece, getting the shiny garlic and butter mixture that covered it all over his face. “I like your pins,” he said to Scot, using his breadstick as a pointer to refer to the not one or two but three separate gemstone broaches that adorned Scot’s otherwise plain purple sweater.
“Thanks!” Scot chirped. Then he tilted his head to the side. “Your outfit could use some sparkle. After all, it is still technically the holiday season. Would you like one of mine?” he asked as he began to undo the gold and green wreath near his left shoulder.
Hank looked over at Joan and tugged at her arm. “Can I, Mom?” he asked.
“Of course,” Joan said without missing a beat.
Eric watched while Scot ceremoniously pinned Hank, captivated by his nephew’s bright smile as he turned to his mother to display his loot. Joan grinned back at him and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.
Joan was doing things right, Eric realized as he observed the interplay between mother and child. She was letting her son grow up in an affection-filled world, without parental prejudices or biases to damage his growing psyche. Maybe if Eric had had an experience like that, instead of being yelled at by his father for anything that was remotely “sissy-like,” he wouldn’t have felt the sickening desire to be rid of his traitorous penis the first time he discovered it responding to a classmate in the boy’s locker room. Maybe he wouldn’t have grown into the kind of adult who went around trying to pressure a kid be someone other than who he truly was. He’d almost ruined Scot, an amazingly unique individual whose admittedly odd behavior seemed to leave only joy in its wake. And for what? To get him to fit into a notion of masculinity that he himself had felt oppressed by in his own childhood?
And then there was Sam. His conversation with Scot was still weighing heavily on his mind, gnawing at his conscience and forcing him to confront the fact that an eleven year old could see something in his relationship that he had so cleverly chosen to ignore for all of five years. Was it possible that he had detrimentally affected Sam in some way by making him act differently, just so that he could fit into his life? Because Sam had changed for him, of that he was sure. Of course, Eric had made a few minor concessions along the way, but overall Sam had never asked for much beyond the bare minimum amount of recognition in front of family and friends. He didn’t have any “rules” that he’d forced Eric to follow in regards to their relationship. He had rules about where dirty clothes went, and where used dishes were supposed to be left, but not about how they were and weren’t to behave in public. So overall it had been Sam who had done the adjusting, learning to accept Eric’s general lack of affection and relatively closeted lifestyle.
Now Eric wondered how things would be different if they’d gone the other way around-if he had been the one so blindly in love that he’d changed for Sam. Would they walk down the streets together hand in hand? Would they have pictures of each other on their desks at work? Would they be married? Would they have talked about adopting a kid before Scot?
But that wasn’t how things had turned out, because Eric was the stubborn, drag-his-feet type while Sam was the flexible one, the one who with nary a complaint had taken whatever expectations he may have had and put them aside to be with a man he had accidentally fallen in love with. It certainly seemed like a raw deal for him, though. He was so affection-starved he’d gotten a hard-on from an innocent pat on the knee at the diner, and after five years together he’d looked frightened at having kissed Eric in public, like he suspected Eric might explode at him in anger . . . and Eric had to admit that in the past, he would have had probable cause to expect that sort of response. Not to mention those few confusing tears Sam had cried when Eric had told him he’d blown his cover at work. He may have changed for Eric, but there were still scars that lay beneath the surface.
“Don’t you think?” Sam said, laying a hand across Eric’s shoulders and caressing the back of his neck lightly, forcing Eric to refocus on his surroundings. Joan and David were also looking at him expectantly from across the table.
Before he could delve into the level of consciousness it took for him to push aside long-standing fears and be openly gay in public, Eric instinctively twisted away from the touch, cursing internally when he caught Sam’s slight frown. He had no idea where the conversation had gone during his mental lapse so he chose to stall by taking a sip of his wine while he shrugged.
Sam sighed away his frustration with a little smirk at Joan, and the two of them shared their “oh well, that’s Eric” look, just another mark of what he’d come to accept as a normal part of his life.
If there were a contest for letting down the people he loved, Eric figured he would probably take the cake.
******
Next: Part 4