Healing - Nineteen - Timeshare
Healing
Sydney Alexis
Nineteen - Timeshare
[Ages: 7/8/16]
[Seven]
As Spyro fell to a fiery death and 'game over' flashed on the screen for the tenth time in as many minutes, Gus turned slowly to check his mother's progress...or lack thereof. Seriously. How many times was she going to repack his bag?
At least his Momma was trying to talk some sense into her. Not that it would work, but anything to expedite the process because oh my god he couldn't get that stupid, purple dragon to land that last jump if they were going to keep rattling around his room for another forty minutes.
"I'm sure that, if you forget something, Brian can find it for him in Pittsburgh," Melanie reasoned.
Gus rolled his eyes. Like he hadn't tried that one an hour and ten minutes ago when all this shit started, but his Mom seemed utterly convinced that all stores had ceased to exist in the state of Pennsylvania or that his dad was too stupid to figure out how his credit card worked.
"I'm just worried; he's never been so far away from home before."
Because, clearly, Gus would die if he didn't have enough pairs of tighty-whities and those hideous shirts she was packing. Snorting, Gus hit the start button and resumed his game. His only hope was that his dad would see those clearly scary plaid monstrosities his mom bought and drag him to get clothes.
"You're the one that convinced me this was a good idea..."
"No. Gus did," Lindsay said sniffling and wiping away tears. "I just can't believe that he's leaving us."
Gus side-eyed them from the floor where he was flopped on his belly. Yes, blame the child. Because a seven year old is clearly capable of brainwashing his parents into doing his bidding.
And why the fuck did she have to make it sound like he was going to The Great Beyond instead of Pittsburgh? Like another country was another planet.
"He'll be back before you know it."
Lindsay looked up at Melanie, face suddenly so much more serious than before. "But one of these days he won't. He's going to go off and leave us," she said in a whisper the kid had to strain to hear.
Snorting, Melanie sat on the bed, smoothing a t-shirt into the bag. "At some point, I should hope so," she said, looking up to see Lindsay's startled expression. "All we can hope is that, by then, we'll have taught him what he needs to know to survive out there."
After finally hitting a save spot, Gus turned off his Play Station and got the hell out of there because he could so sense the queen out that was about to happen.
Not to mention the fact that he'd have to stay up late to repack his bag with stuff he actually planned on using.
. . . . .
[Sixteen]
He had the boxes stashed in his room. Charlie had called it wishful thinking, but he'd known all along it would eventually come to this.
Clear tape spread noisily across the cardboard's seams as he smoothed his hands across it and the FedEx logo beneath.
Everything he owned was either in a box or packed away in luggage.
Despite what his mothers thought, he was never going to come back to this fucking city again.
"Gussy Gus, the FedEx guy's here," JR said, pushing the door open without knocking. And, yes, he'd been trying to break the little shit of that habit for a long time now. Of course, after today, it would be a moot point.
Looking up from the seventeenth and final box he'd packed, he saw JR and the aforementioned the delivery man he'd requested several hours ago looming in his doorway.
The dolly was loaded. All his computer equipment, all his winter clothes, all his books and papers were put into the truck with due care. All of them labeled for Briton.
He signed the paperwork, leaving a hefty tip when he asked they take special care with his computer. Yet another thing he'd picked up from his father. Another useful thing to have in his arsenal.
From the front door, he made a beeline to Mel's office where he routed around in her filing cabinet to find all his important papers--passports, visas, birth certificate, and his social security card. Anything and everything he'd need in the future.
Pounding up the stairs, he heard his mothers in their room yelling at his dad through the speaker phone, and, for once, his father was yelling back.
Smirking, Gus continued to the third floor where he ran into JR sitting on his bed. Legs dangling off the end as she kicked them back and forth in thought.
"You're not planning on coming back, are you?"
Always the bright one.
Biting his lower lip, he sank onto the mattress beside her, eyes instantly locking on the small bag he'd packed; everything else was in a FedEx truck.
This was the only part of this whole endeavor that truly bothered him -- leaving his little sister in this chaos without himself as a buffer. He knew that she was trying hard not to get too worked up and that she was going to end up failing eventually. She was a Novotny after all.
"No, I'm not."
Before he could even register what was happening, he was mobbed by a sobbing little girl.
"I'm gonna miss you so much, Gussy," she said, hugging him tightly.
Closing his eyes in an attempt to ward off his own tears, he returned the hug. Truth be told, he had no clue when he was going to see her again.
"I'm glad you're going though...'cause you're so miserable here."
His arms tightened around his little sister. Voice breaking, he responded. "I'm going to miss you so fucking much, Jenny."
She pulled back at that, lip trembling just a little because Gus never called her by her real name.
Hugging him tightly once again, she whispered, "Go do all the great things you were meant to do, but don't you think for one second you can forget about me."
Smiling a watery smile, Gus sniffled against his kid sister's shoulder. "How could I forget a brat like you?"
. . . . .
[Eight]
"You've got your sunblock? Because you burn so easily..." Lindsay asked as they started moving Gus' bags downstairs.
"Yes, Mom," he said, rolling his eyes for the four billionth time.
"And you have your passport, right? They won't let you back in to Canada without it."
"Yes, Momma," Gus said, patting down his front pocket. "It's right here with the vast sum of illegal drugs."
Melanie's eyes narrowed. "You'd better not say that shit to the TSA officer, or they'll do a cavity search."
"Kinky," Gus replied, smirking.
Melanie threw her hands up in the air before looking over at Lindsay. "And you want to send him to Brian's again."
Gus snorted. "Like I didn't pick up half my bugging street slang and hate for authority figures from school or anything," he said, picking up his bag and carrying it out to the car.
. . . . .
[Sixteen]
Melanie's voice was clear and crisp despite the marathon screaming session she'd just had with his father over the phone.
In the distance, he heard his mother, his real mother sobbing like JR had a few hours before.
"I'm not happy about this one fucking bit," she warned in a tone so venomous he wanted to shiver. "You get a fucking free trip for misbehaving. Like your father can fix everything that's wrong with you."
Gus bit the inside of his cheek so hard he almost drew blood. He was far too close to getting out of here to screw things up now.
She looked around his room, noticing the empty closets, drawers, and the suitcase on the floor.
"You seem pretty fucking sure that we'd let you go."
Gus, a full foot taller than his mother, correction, Melanie turned his chin upwards slightly and looked his nose down at her.
"Let me go or finally be free of me?"
Melanie's cheeks flushed a guilty red a second before her eyes narrowed in anger.
"I don't like the things that you do, but I'll always love you."
Gus met her stare and saw truth and mutual understanding; they saw each other the same way. Probably always would.
As soon as Justin called with the flight information, Gus was out the door. Halfway up the walk, he turned and saw his little sister in her window, waving at him.
Offering a weak smile, he waved back before drawing his eyes down the roof line where Lindsay and Melanie stood looking through their own bedroom window. His mother's face was ruddy and splotchy from too many tears. Melanie's lips were drawn thin and tight as her hand grasped the curtain.
Suddenly, he understood with perfect clarity why his father never looked back after he went through airport security; it was too fucking painful.
. . . . .
[Seven]
The little blue and red 'Delta: Special Delivery' button bounced against his shirt as Lindsay took Gus' hand and guided him through the busy airport and towards the appropriate gate.
"Mom, my legs hurt. Can't we get the little man on the cart to drive us?"
Lindsay immediately stopped and looked down at her son. "The cart is for people that have trouble walking, sweetie."
"Well I think everybody would have trouble walking across this place; it's huge! And why'd they have to put the check-in desk on the other side of the planet from the gate anyway?"
When he looked up and saw that she was about to cry again, Gus rolled his eyes.
"I'm going to be fine, Mom. Daddy will take care of me, or Momma will 'fuck him over so good he won't be able to sit down for a year.'"
Huffing a watery laugh, Lindsay smoothed his hair down. "What am I gonna do without you around?"
"Entertain yourself," Gus suggested, smirking, before taking his mom's hand and guiding her towards gate."
. . . . .
[Sixteen]
Tires screeched across tarmac as the earth hurled past his windows. Blurred white and green became snow-covered pines. The plane jumped and jarred slightly as massive steel came to a halt at the gate.
The crackling radio gave way to an exhausted sounding pilot announcing their arrival, the local time, and thanking the passengers for flying Delta.
As the seatbelt sign clicked off and the flight attendants took their place by the door, Gus released a shaky breath as he wondered if things would be any different now.
. . . . .
[Seven]
Brian watched the little boy bound towards them from the gate and smiled.
"Daddy!" Gus yelled, only, at the speed the kid was running, it sounded more like "Aaaaaeeee!"
Kneeling, Brian held his arms out and was nearly knocked over when the little imp finally stopped.
"Missed you! Missed you! Missed you!"
It was said through two missing front teeth so it sounded more like 'miffed you,' but it still made his chest tighten a little at the oh-so-honest words.
Standing with due care, he made sure he had a tight hold of his son before wrapping his son's legs around his waist.
"What do you say we get you out to the car?"
Gus nodded into Brian's neck.
It wasn't until Brian had turned towards the exit that Gus spotted Justin. The kid instantly started squirming in his father's arms.
"Jus! Jus! Jus," the boy squeaked, reaching backwards for his other Dad.
"Hey, Gussy Gus," Justin said, smiling brightly at the kid.
The moment Brian set Gus down, the kid was squeezing the life out of Justin and the 'miffed yous' were repeated. Justin returned the hug, smiling broadly.
"I missed you, too, kiddo."
The boy, half jumping up and down, half strangling Justin, dissolved into a fit of giggles as Justin tickled his sides to get Gus to let go; it was a trick Melanie had taught him, and one he was grateful to know.
Brian stood back, watching with a shy smile as his son ran backwards and squealed.
"Daddy Justin, stop ticklin' me!" Gus exclaimed in between trying to catch his breath.
And, once he did, he didn't stop talking...
"Daddy? Do you think we could stop at the diner on the way home? They didn't feed me on the plane. Well...they did, but it was only a bag of pretzels and a tiny plastic cup of coke. Momma said you'd feed me when I got here 'cause it was too early to eat lunch and I'd already had breakfast, but I was kinda hungry when I got on the plane. The lady in the uniform was really nice, and gave me more pretzels when I told her I was still hungry. But she didn't have any cookies," Gus said, not stopping for a breath and not missing a beat when his daddies grabbed his hands and started guiding him towards the exit. Half way through the terminal, Gus started skipping between them.
"She told me that they didn't have peanuts any more because some people are allergic to them. I told her that Daddy Justin is allergic to everything, and she said that she hoped that didn't include me," Gus continued, pausing only long enough to ask: "You're not allergic to me, are you Papa?"
"Of course not, Gussy Gus," Justin replied, looking down at Gus with an alarmed expression.
"That's good because Mr. Broussard, Charlie's dad...his real dad, is allergic to cats. He made Charlie bring his new cat, Scruffles, back to the shelter 'cause it was 'a mangy little thing' that was always annoying him and 'costing him a fortune in vet bills and litter.'
"Charlie's Mom wouldn't take Scruffles either. She said either some nice family would take him in or he'd be put down," Gus continued, crinkling his nose in thought. "I don't know what 'put him down means,' but it doesn't sound very good." A beat. "You wouldn't put me down, would you, Daddy," Gus asked, looking up at Brian with thoughtful, hazel eyes.
Brian stopped dead in his tracks.
"Absolutely not," he started, pausing to kneel down in front of his son. "You will always have a place with Justin and me," he said, pausing to kiss his son's forehead and smooth a cowlick on the boy's hair before offering a smile. "I love you. Don't you forget that, okay?"
"I love you, too, Daddy," Gus said, smiling at his Dad before hugging him again. Brian shared a look with Justin over Gus' shoulder. Sometimes, he couldn't believe the things that came out of the kid's mouth.
Gus pulled back first, and waited for Brian to stand before taking both his daddies' hands again.
"Do I get to ride in your super cool car?"
"Yup. If you want to."
"And can we stop at the diner on the way home?"
"Yeah, Sonny Boy, I promise."
. . . . .
[Sixteen]
Brian found himself nervously pacing while he waited at the gate. Every year that passed brought new changes--whole chapters of his son's life that he missed because Mel and Lindsay decided to pack up their shit and run for the fucking hills.
It's just time, he'd told Justin an age ago, but it was different when things like time and fear and distance kept you from the people you love.
Gus had grown taller and leaner with each passing year. The Cat and the Hat was swapped out for Poe, Dickens, and Dante. Crayon filled letters were replaced with thought provoking emails about political views, literary analysis, and the occasional teenage angst like 'JR is an annoying twat.'
Mannerisms and interests were always changing and Brian found himself struggling to catalog the changes before the summer had slipped past and another nine months were gone before he got to see his son for any length of time.
This time was different, however. It wasn't summer. In fact, there were seven weeks of school left, but, with the school and the court's blessing, Gus had been shipped off to his father in hopes that he could straighten him out.
That thought alone fucking terrified him.
The entire conversation with the Munchers...the whole situation seemed totally surreal.
A few years ago, his son was so small and curious about the world around him. He'd run and laugh and giggle with joy when he rode Cabbage. Everything held some sort of interest and he'd take it all in with mischievous hazel eyes and questions Brian sure as shit wasn't ready to attempt to answer.
Like he knew where the fuck people went to when they died or how everything in the universe came to be.
The next thing he knew, his kid was getting busted for lifting cigarettes and hacking websites. And now...this shit with the Entes kid. It was like the Posse all over again.
A shudder ran down his spine.
From what Mel said, Gus broke the kid's cheekbone and nose and probably would have killed him if the principal hadn't interceded.
And all of it with his bare hands.
How had it come to this?
Mel had, of course, tried to lay the blame solely on his feet. He was the one that drank and smoked and cursed and fucked and taught his kid all the evils of the world because God knew there was no such thing as sin in the great, hallowed city of Toronto.
And even as she spewed caustic remarks through the phone line, even as he met her barb for barb by reminding her that the grass wasn't greener there and all that shit about rocks and glass houses, he couldn't help but hear the silent whisper in his mind...one that sounded distinctly like Jack:
'Everything you touch turns to shit, Sonny Boy. Don't you fucking forget it.'
Feet carrying him back and forth near the gate, he paced trying to calm his churning stomach because Jesus Christ what if he and Justin failed this time around?
The hand on his forearm stopped him mid-motion. Turning his attention to the gate, he watched as people from his son's plane began filing out. One by one, there were businessmen walking towards sign-holding drivers, separated lovers hugging, and children half-running to keep up with parents. Finally, Gus stepped into his line of sight. At least he thought that was his son...
Gus knew the exact moment his father saw him; he'd long since grown accustomed to the disbelieving stares he'd catch. Over the past eight months since he had seen his father last, Gus had streaked his hair red; pierced his nose, eyebrow, and ears; began dressing in all black; and had taken to wearing gloves in public to 'keep from leaving a fingerprint trail.' It was all done for shock value.
Of course, the school quack had used it to point to 'obvious distress over some aspect of his home life.' The caseworker from the Canadian equivalent of the department for child and family services assigned to him said pretty much the same thing.
So, here he was at sixteen in circa 1990s grunge-ware watching his dads watch him.
Justin was all bright smiles despite the raised eyebrow at the kid's fashion taste because, yeah, Gus knew all about the fugly khakis and cutesy t-shirts of the Ghost of Twink's past.
He laughed at Justin's expression and hugged him first.
"Hey, Jus."
"Hey, Gus Gus."
It was a totally lame greeting but it worked for them.
The moment that Brian saw him. He felt the air rush from his lungs. It wasn't the scary goth outfit, the deep cherry streaked hair, or the multiple piercings that made him shiver...well...maybe it was that a little bit, but the look in his son's eyes...
The ill ease grew in the pit of his stomach and burned more than any shot of whiskey could.
Swallowing thickly, he watched his first and only born hug Justin while offering a smile that never reached his eyes. Gus' movements were cautious, skittish, uncomfortable, and so like Justin was in the days after the bashing...
Taking a deep breath, he offered a flippant greeting to his kid.
"Christ! I leave you to the Lesbi-moms for a couple of months and you forget how to dress."
A slow smile spread across Gus' face; he'd learned to read his Dad pretty well over the years.
"I missed you too," Gus replied, a small smile playing at his lips. He pulled his Dad into a hug, and, the minute his dad hugged him back, Gus felt something shift inside him. He felt calmer than he had in months.
Feeling the tension suddenly drain from his kid, Brian tightened his grip just a fraction, surprised to feel a lump in his throat.
How had it come to this? When had they stopped noticing the changes in Gus? And, more importantly, how the fuck did the boy get so good at hiding shit?
Releasing his hold on his son, Brian stepped back and grabbed his kid's bag before steering all three of them towards the exit. Once they were outside and moving towards short-term parking Gus turned to his Dad, and, with a smile, offered his standard greeting:
"So, you still driving the dick mobile?"
Brian huffed a laugh in return, grateful that at least some things hadn't changed.
The ride back to the ridiculously large house in the middle of nowhere was uncharacteristically quiet. Nearly every other time Gus had flown in for a visit, he and Justin filled the time with inane chatter, or, when he was younger, Gus would simply fall asleep in the backseat.
Peering into the rear view mirror of Justin's SUV, he shot a brief look at his son. Sunk down in his seat and staring aimlessly out the window, he looked sullen.
Noticing his partner's worried look, Justin turned slightly in his seat to look at Gus.
"You hungry? We could stop for something on the way home," Justin suggested.
Gus shrugged. "Diner'd be okay I guess."
Brian's eyes shot up to meet Gus' in the rear view mirror. "Deb's working today."
Gus nodded, understanding. Things between Debbie and he had been strained since The Incident. It didn't matter how many times he apologized. It wouldn't matter if he sat in a fucking church the rest of his life saying novenas, Debbie and Michael would never forgive him. Well fuck them. They could be added to his shit list right after his mothers.
"How about we get something delivered to the house?"
Shrugging once again, Gus uttered a clipped response. "I guess."
After ten minutes of nothing but an uncomfortable silence in the car, Justin began a series of stories about gallery openings and pieces he was working on. Occasionally, he'd ask Gus a question to get him to engage in some sort of conversation.
Gus responded with a voice devoid all emotion, eyes not leaving the window. His answers were totally monosyllabic if at all. To be honest, he was only half listening.
You all did love him once, not without cause:
What cause withholds you then to mourn for him?
O judgement! thou art fled to brutish beasts,
And men have lost their reason…
Shakespeare - Julius Caesar
Super big thanks to shadownyc for the beta!
Choose your own adventure:
Clipped Scene - Coasting (If you want a break from the doom and gloom)
Twenty - Sheep (If you want to continue with the story.)
Sydney Alexis
Nineteen - Timeshare
[Ages: 7/8/16]
[Seven]
As Spyro fell to a fiery death and 'game over' flashed on the screen for the tenth time in as many minutes, Gus turned slowly to check his mother's progress...or lack thereof. Seriously. How many times was she going to repack his bag?
At least his Momma was trying to talk some sense into her. Not that it would work, but anything to expedite the process because oh my god he couldn't get that stupid, purple dragon to land that last jump if they were going to keep rattling around his room for another forty minutes.
"I'm sure that, if you forget something, Brian can find it for him in Pittsburgh," Melanie reasoned.
Gus rolled his eyes. Like he hadn't tried that one an hour and ten minutes ago when all this shit started, but his Mom seemed utterly convinced that all stores had ceased to exist in the state of Pennsylvania or that his dad was too stupid to figure out how his credit card worked.
"I'm just worried; he's never been so far away from home before."
Because, clearly, Gus would die if he didn't have enough pairs of tighty-whities and those hideous shirts she was packing. Snorting, Gus hit the start button and resumed his game. His only hope was that his dad would see those clearly scary plaid monstrosities his mom bought and drag him to get clothes.
"You're the one that convinced me this was a good idea..."
"No. Gus did," Lindsay said sniffling and wiping away tears. "I just can't believe that he's leaving us."
Gus side-eyed them from the floor where he was flopped on his belly. Yes, blame the child. Because a seven year old is clearly capable of brainwashing his parents into doing his bidding.
And why the fuck did she have to make it sound like he was going to The Great Beyond instead of Pittsburgh? Like another country was another planet.
"He'll be back before you know it."
Lindsay looked up at Melanie, face suddenly so much more serious than before. "But one of these days he won't. He's going to go off and leave us," she said in a whisper the kid had to strain to hear.
Snorting, Melanie sat on the bed, smoothing a t-shirt into the bag. "At some point, I should hope so," she said, looking up to see Lindsay's startled expression. "All we can hope is that, by then, we'll have taught him what he needs to know to survive out there."
After finally hitting a save spot, Gus turned off his Play Station and got the hell out of there because he could so sense the queen out that was about to happen.
Not to mention the fact that he'd have to stay up late to repack his bag with stuff he actually planned on using.
. . . . .
[Sixteen]
He had the boxes stashed in his room. Charlie had called it wishful thinking, but he'd known all along it would eventually come to this.
Clear tape spread noisily across the cardboard's seams as he smoothed his hands across it and the FedEx logo beneath.
Everything he owned was either in a box or packed away in luggage.
Despite what his mothers thought, he was never going to come back to this fucking city again.
"Gussy Gus, the FedEx guy's here," JR said, pushing the door open without knocking. And, yes, he'd been trying to break the little shit of that habit for a long time now. Of course, after today, it would be a moot point.
Looking up from the seventeenth and final box he'd packed, he saw JR and the aforementioned the delivery man he'd requested several hours ago looming in his doorway.
The dolly was loaded. All his computer equipment, all his winter clothes, all his books and papers were put into the truck with due care. All of them labeled for Briton.
He signed the paperwork, leaving a hefty tip when he asked they take special care with his computer. Yet another thing he'd picked up from his father. Another useful thing to have in his arsenal.
From the front door, he made a beeline to Mel's office where he routed around in her filing cabinet to find all his important papers--passports, visas, birth certificate, and his social security card. Anything and everything he'd need in the future.
Pounding up the stairs, he heard his mothers in their room yelling at his dad through the speaker phone, and, for once, his father was yelling back.
Smirking, Gus continued to the third floor where he ran into JR sitting on his bed. Legs dangling off the end as she kicked them back and forth in thought.
"You're not planning on coming back, are you?"
Always the bright one.
Biting his lower lip, he sank onto the mattress beside her, eyes instantly locking on the small bag he'd packed; everything else was in a FedEx truck.
This was the only part of this whole endeavor that truly bothered him -- leaving his little sister in this chaos without himself as a buffer. He knew that she was trying hard not to get too worked up and that she was going to end up failing eventually. She was a Novotny after all.
"No, I'm not."
Before he could even register what was happening, he was mobbed by a sobbing little girl.
"I'm gonna miss you so much, Gussy," she said, hugging him tightly.
Closing his eyes in an attempt to ward off his own tears, he returned the hug. Truth be told, he had no clue when he was going to see her again.
"I'm glad you're going though...'cause you're so miserable here."
His arms tightened around his little sister. Voice breaking, he responded. "I'm going to miss you so fucking much, Jenny."
She pulled back at that, lip trembling just a little because Gus never called her by her real name.
Hugging him tightly once again, she whispered, "Go do all the great things you were meant to do, but don't you think for one second you can forget about me."
Smiling a watery smile, Gus sniffled against his kid sister's shoulder. "How could I forget a brat like you?"
. . . . .
[Eight]
"You've got your sunblock? Because you burn so easily..." Lindsay asked as they started moving Gus' bags downstairs.
"Yes, Mom," he said, rolling his eyes for the four billionth time.
"And you have your passport, right? They won't let you back in to Canada without it."
"Yes, Momma," Gus said, patting down his front pocket. "It's right here with the vast sum of illegal drugs."
Melanie's eyes narrowed. "You'd better not say that shit to the TSA officer, or they'll do a cavity search."
"Kinky," Gus replied, smirking.
Melanie threw her hands up in the air before looking over at Lindsay. "And you want to send him to Brian's again."
Gus snorted. "Like I didn't pick up half my bugging street slang and hate for authority figures from school or anything," he said, picking up his bag and carrying it out to the car.
. . . . .
[Sixteen]
Melanie's voice was clear and crisp despite the marathon screaming session she'd just had with his father over the phone.
In the distance, he heard his mother, his real mother sobbing like JR had a few hours before.
"I'm not happy about this one fucking bit," she warned in a tone so venomous he wanted to shiver. "You get a fucking free trip for misbehaving. Like your father can fix everything that's wrong with you."
Gus bit the inside of his cheek so hard he almost drew blood. He was far too close to getting out of here to screw things up now.
She looked around his room, noticing the empty closets, drawers, and the suitcase on the floor.
"You seem pretty fucking sure that we'd let you go."
Gus, a full foot taller than his mother, correction, Melanie turned his chin upwards slightly and looked his nose down at her.
"Let me go or finally be free of me?"
Melanie's cheeks flushed a guilty red a second before her eyes narrowed in anger.
"I don't like the things that you do, but I'll always love you."
Gus met her stare and saw truth and mutual understanding; they saw each other the same way. Probably always would.
As soon as Justin called with the flight information, Gus was out the door. Halfway up the walk, he turned and saw his little sister in her window, waving at him.
Offering a weak smile, he waved back before drawing his eyes down the roof line where Lindsay and Melanie stood looking through their own bedroom window. His mother's face was ruddy and splotchy from too many tears. Melanie's lips were drawn thin and tight as her hand grasped the curtain.
Suddenly, he understood with perfect clarity why his father never looked back after he went through airport security; it was too fucking painful.
. . . . .
[Seven]
The little blue and red 'Delta: Special Delivery' button bounced against his shirt as Lindsay took Gus' hand and guided him through the busy airport and towards the appropriate gate.
"Mom, my legs hurt. Can't we get the little man on the cart to drive us?"
Lindsay immediately stopped and looked down at her son. "The cart is for people that have trouble walking, sweetie."
"Well I think everybody would have trouble walking across this place; it's huge! And why'd they have to put the check-in desk on the other side of the planet from the gate anyway?"
When he looked up and saw that she was about to cry again, Gus rolled his eyes.
"I'm going to be fine, Mom. Daddy will take care of me, or Momma will 'fuck him over so good he won't be able to sit down for a year.'"
Huffing a watery laugh, Lindsay smoothed his hair down. "What am I gonna do without you around?"
"Entertain yourself," Gus suggested, smirking, before taking his mom's hand and guiding her towards gate."
. . . . .
[Sixteen]
Tires screeched across tarmac as the earth hurled past his windows. Blurred white and green became snow-covered pines. The plane jumped and jarred slightly as massive steel came to a halt at the gate.
The crackling radio gave way to an exhausted sounding pilot announcing their arrival, the local time, and thanking the passengers for flying Delta.
As the seatbelt sign clicked off and the flight attendants took their place by the door, Gus released a shaky breath as he wondered if things would be any different now.
. . . . .
[Seven]
Brian watched the little boy bound towards them from the gate and smiled.
"Daddy!" Gus yelled, only, at the speed the kid was running, it sounded more like "Aaaaaeeee!"
Kneeling, Brian held his arms out and was nearly knocked over when the little imp finally stopped.
"Missed you! Missed you! Missed you!"
It was said through two missing front teeth so it sounded more like 'miffed you,' but it still made his chest tighten a little at the oh-so-honest words.
Standing with due care, he made sure he had a tight hold of his son before wrapping his son's legs around his waist.
"What do you say we get you out to the car?"
Gus nodded into Brian's neck.
It wasn't until Brian had turned towards the exit that Gus spotted Justin. The kid instantly started squirming in his father's arms.
"Jus! Jus! Jus," the boy squeaked, reaching backwards for his other Dad.
"Hey, Gussy Gus," Justin said, smiling brightly at the kid.
The moment Brian set Gus down, the kid was squeezing the life out of Justin and the 'miffed yous' were repeated. Justin returned the hug, smiling broadly.
"I missed you, too, kiddo."
The boy, half jumping up and down, half strangling Justin, dissolved into a fit of giggles as Justin tickled his sides to get Gus to let go; it was a trick Melanie had taught him, and one he was grateful to know.
Brian stood back, watching with a shy smile as his son ran backwards and squealed.
"Daddy Justin, stop ticklin' me!" Gus exclaimed in between trying to catch his breath.
And, once he did, he didn't stop talking...
"Daddy? Do you think we could stop at the diner on the way home? They didn't feed me on the plane. Well...they did, but it was only a bag of pretzels and a tiny plastic cup of coke. Momma said you'd feed me when I got here 'cause it was too early to eat lunch and I'd already had breakfast, but I was kinda hungry when I got on the plane. The lady in the uniform was really nice, and gave me more pretzels when I told her I was still hungry. But she didn't have any cookies," Gus said, not stopping for a breath and not missing a beat when his daddies grabbed his hands and started guiding him towards the exit. Half way through the terminal, Gus started skipping between them.
"She told me that they didn't have peanuts any more because some people are allergic to them. I told her that Daddy Justin is allergic to everything, and she said that she hoped that didn't include me," Gus continued, pausing only long enough to ask: "You're not allergic to me, are you Papa?"
"Of course not, Gussy Gus," Justin replied, looking down at Gus with an alarmed expression.
"That's good because Mr. Broussard, Charlie's dad...his real dad, is allergic to cats. He made Charlie bring his new cat, Scruffles, back to the shelter 'cause it was 'a mangy little thing' that was always annoying him and 'costing him a fortune in vet bills and litter.'
"Charlie's Mom wouldn't take Scruffles either. She said either some nice family would take him in or he'd be put down," Gus continued, crinkling his nose in thought. "I don't know what 'put him down means,' but it doesn't sound very good." A beat. "You wouldn't put me down, would you, Daddy," Gus asked, looking up at Brian with thoughtful, hazel eyes.
Brian stopped dead in his tracks.
"Absolutely not," he started, pausing to kneel down in front of his son. "You will always have a place with Justin and me," he said, pausing to kiss his son's forehead and smooth a cowlick on the boy's hair before offering a smile. "I love you. Don't you forget that, okay?"
"I love you, too, Daddy," Gus said, smiling at his Dad before hugging him again. Brian shared a look with Justin over Gus' shoulder. Sometimes, he couldn't believe the things that came out of the kid's mouth.
Gus pulled back first, and waited for Brian to stand before taking both his daddies' hands again.
"Do I get to ride in your super cool car?"
"Yup. If you want to."
"And can we stop at the diner on the way home?"
"Yeah, Sonny Boy, I promise."
. . . . .
[Sixteen]
Brian found himself nervously pacing while he waited at the gate. Every year that passed brought new changes--whole chapters of his son's life that he missed because Mel and Lindsay decided to pack up their shit and run for the fucking hills.
It's just time, he'd told Justin an age ago, but it was different when things like time and fear and distance kept you from the people you love.
Gus had grown taller and leaner with each passing year. The Cat and the Hat was swapped out for Poe, Dickens, and Dante. Crayon filled letters were replaced with thought provoking emails about political views, literary analysis, and the occasional teenage angst like 'JR is an annoying twat.'
Mannerisms and interests were always changing and Brian found himself struggling to catalog the changes before the summer had slipped past and another nine months were gone before he got to see his son for any length of time.
This time was different, however. It wasn't summer. In fact, there were seven weeks of school left, but, with the school and the court's blessing, Gus had been shipped off to his father in hopes that he could straighten him out.
That thought alone fucking terrified him.
The entire conversation with the Munchers...the whole situation seemed totally surreal.
A few years ago, his son was so small and curious about the world around him. He'd run and laugh and giggle with joy when he rode Cabbage. Everything held some sort of interest and he'd take it all in with mischievous hazel eyes and questions Brian sure as shit wasn't ready to attempt to answer.
Like he knew where the fuck people went to when they died or how everything in the universe came to be.
The next thing he knew, his kid was getting busted for lifting cigarettes and hacking websites. And now...this shit with the Entes kid. It was like the Posse all over again.
A shudder ran down his spine.
From what Mel said, Gus broke the kid's cheekbone and nose and probably would have killed him if the principal hadn't interceded.
And all of it with his bare hands.
How had it come to this?
Mel had, of course, tried to lay the blame solely on his feet. He was the one that drank and smoked and cursed and fucked and taught his kid all the evils of the world because God knew there was no such thing as sin in the great, hallowed city of Toronto.
And even as she spewed caustic remarks through the phone line, even as he met her barb for barb by reminding her that the grass wasn't greener there and all that shit about rocks and glass houses, he couldn't help but hear the silent whisper in his mind...one that sounded distinctly like Jack:
'Everything you touch turns to shit, Sonny Boy. Don't you fucking forget it.'
Feet carrying him back and forth near the gate, he paced trying to calm his churning stomach because Jesus Christ what if he and Justin failed this time around?
The hand on his forearm stopped him mid-motion. Turning his attention to the gate, he watched as people from his son's plane began filing out. One by one, there were businessmen walking towards sign-holding drivers, separated lovers hugging, and children half-running to keep up with parents. Finally, Gus stepped into his line of sight. At least he thought that was his son...
Gus knew the exact moment his father saw him; he'd long since grown accustomed to the disbelieving stares he'd catch. Over the past eight months since he had seen his father last, Gus had streaked his hair red; pierced his nose, eyebrow, and ears; began dressing in all black; and had taken to wearing gloves in public to 'keep from leaving a fingerprint trail.' It was all done for shock value.
Of course, the school quack had used it to point to 'obvious distress over some aspect of his home life.' The caseworker from the Canadian equivalent of the department for child and family services assigned to him said pretty much the same thing.
So, here he was at sixteen in circa 1990s grunge-ware watching his dads watch him.
Justin was all bright smiles despite the raised eyebrow at the kid's fashion taste because, yeah, Gus knew all about the fugly khakis and cutesy t-shirts of the Ghost of Twink's past.
He laughed at Justin's expression and hugged him first.
"Hey, Jus."
"Hey, Gus Gus."
It was a totally lame greeting but it worked for them.
The moment that Brian saw him. He felt the air rush from his lungs. It wasn't the scary goth outfit, the deep cherry streaked hair, or the multiple piercings that made him shiver...well...maybe it was that a little bit, but the look in his son's eyes...
The ill ease grew in the pit of his stomach and burned more than any shot of whiskey could.
Swallowing thickly, he watched his first and only born hug Justin while offering a smile that never reached his eyes. Gus' movements were cautious, skittish, uncomfortable, and so like Justin was in the days after the bashing...
Taking a deep breath, he offered a flippant greeting to his kid.
"Christ! I leave you to the Lesbi-moms for a couple of months and you forget how to dress."
A slow smile spread across Gus' face; he'd learned to read his Dad pretty well over the years.
"I missed you too," Gus replied, a small smile playing at his lips. He pulled his Dad into a hug, and, the minute his dad hugged him back, Gus felt something shift inside him. He felt calmer than he had in months.
Feeling the tension suddenly drain from his kid, Brian tightened his grip just a fraction, surprised to feel a lump in his throat.
How had it come to this? When had they stopped noticing the changes in Gus? And, more importantly, how the fuck did the boy get so good at hiding shit?
Releasing his hold on his son, Brian stepped back and grabbed his kid's bag before steering all three of them towards the exit. Once they were outside and moving towards short-term parking Gus turned to his Dad, and, with a smile, offered his standard greeting:
"So, you still driving the dick mobile?"
Brian huffed a laugh in return, grateful that at least some things hadn't changed.
The ride back to the ridiculously large house in the middle of nowhere was uncharacteristically quiet. Nearly every other time Gus had flown in for a visit, he and Justin filled the time with inane chatter, or, when he was younger, Gus would simply fall asleep in the backseat.
Peering into the rear view mirror of Justin's SUV, he shot a brief look at his son. Sunk down in his seat and staring aimlessly out the window, he looked sullen.
Noticing his partner's worried look, Justin turned slightly in his seat to look at Gus.
"You hungry? We could stop for something on the way home," Justin suggested.
Gus shrugged. "Diner'd be okay I guess."
Brian's eyes shot up to meet Gus' in the rear view mirror. "Deb's working today."
Gus nodded, understanding. Things between Debbie and he had been strained since The Incident. It didn't matter how many times he apologized. It wouldn't matter if he sat in a fucking church the rest of his life saying novenas, Debbie and Michael would never forgive him. Well fuck them. They could be added to his shit list right after his mothers.
"How about we get something delivered to the house?"
Shrugging once again, Gus uttered a clipped response. "I guess."
After ten minutes of nothing but an uncomfortable silence in the car, Justin began a series of stories about gallery openings and pieces he was working on. Occasionally, he'd ask Gus a question to get him to engage in some sort of conversation.
Gus responded with a voice devoid all emotion, eyes not leaving the window. His answers were totally monosyllabic if at all. To be honest, he was only half listening.
You all did love him once, not without cause:
What cause withholds you then to mourn for him?
O judgement! thou art fled to brutish beasts,
And men have lost their reason…
Shakespeare - Julius Caesar
Super big thanks to shadownyc for the beta!
Choose your own adventure:
Clipped Scene - Coasting (If you want a break from the doom and gloom)
Twenty - Sheep (If you want to continue with the story.)