.030 Death
.030 Death
Sydney Alexis
Angst Warning
It didn't end the way they thought it would. Like it did all the previous times before.
This time, it was amicable.
This time, there was no raised voices or hiding behind a lie. No 'in house separation' or being pressured back together by the gang.
For the first time in her life, Lindsay completely understood the phrase dissolutionment of marriage.
It happened on a Tuesday. One moment she was cutting up an onion and watching Gus and JR play in the backyard, and the next she was crying. And, no, it wasn't because of the onion.
See...time is a sneaky little bastard. One minute you're young and in love and the next you're married with two kids, struggling to pay car notes, mortgages, and utility bills.
More of your time is poured into work and your kids and maintaining your too expensive house and car until one day you wake up and your partner turned into a stranger. That's when you either start fighting for what you want or stop going through the motions.
By the time Melanie got home, the kids were in bed asleep and all but one of the lights in the house were off.
Lindsay waited until she'd finished eating before saying, "We need to talk."
Carefully setting her dinner plate in the dishwasher, Melanie stood, hands braced on the counter, back to Lindsay.
"I know," she said, softly.
This time, there wasn't a big blow up with angry words like affair carelessly tossed around like Mardi Gras beads.
There was grief, just as last time, but it was more for the relationship lost along the way.
But, more telling, there was relief. Glad that this farce was coming to a close.
In the space of one evening, the terms were ironed out--visitation schedules, the house being sold, property division.
The only thing left to do was tell the family--starting with JR and Gus.
. . . . .
Gus was nine when it happened, and, to be honest, he saw it coming. Divorce was the thing for parents, wasn't it? Like phallus cars for mid-life crisis of years past.
"Now, we want you both to understand that we love you both very much..." Lindsay started.
Gus rolled his eyes. Jesus. H. Christ! JR was too young to really get what was going on and he passed the 'baby me' phase a hell of a long time ago.
"Does this mean we're gonna move again," Gus interrupted, staring his mother down. "Or are you going to try that lame, in-house separation shit?"
Rather than correcting his language, Lindsay bit her lower lip before shaking her head. "No, kiddo. We're going to move into our own place."
"So what? I'm supposed to spend every other week here? Every other month? And when am I gonna see Junior," he asked, pointing his thumb at JR who was curled up on the sofa, head resting on his leg.
"You'll spend every other holiday and summers with me," Melanie said.
Gus' head snapped towards Melanie's. This couldn't be happening. "I thought that was the arrangement with Dad. When the hell am I supposed to see him."
Lindsay reached out and smoothed his hair down. Instantly, his eyes fell on his mom's, and any protest he had about the babying touch he offered died on his lips when she said, "You'll see him whenever he comes to visit."
That's when Gus realized how permanent it was.
Mouth open, jaw working.
He always assumed it would happen, but, now that it had crystallized, that sick feeling in his stomach started to grow.
"So what? You two decide to split and JR and I just follow you blindly?"
"Gus..." Mel started.
"No. You don't get it. I can fucking divide. Twelve months a year, three parents a piece. That means I spend a maximum of 4 months with each parent. It also means I'll probably only see JR a couple months out of the year.
"Who's gonna work with her on her letters and watch her dumb butt when you're busy making dinner," Gus said, feeling his eyes well with tears.
"And when in the fuck am I supposed to see Dad? I mean the summer is our time, but sometimes he comes up here just to visit. It's not like he's gonna come with I'm with Momma because they hate each other..."
"That's not true," Mel interrupted.
"Isn't it? You're always saying shit about him..."
Melanie sat on the coffee table opposite her children and looked Gus straight in the eyes.
"I promise I will never keep you from visiting with JR or your daddy. You can come over and visit with her any time you want to. You know that, sweetie," Mel said, watching her son stroking JR's hair. The little girl, clearly feeling her brother's agitation, started sucking on her thumb.
"Yeah. That's how it always starts. And then it's call before you come over. And then you meet someone new...and where the fuck do I fit in? The kid you fucking adopted and feel obligated to seeing every once in awhile."
"You are not and never will be an obligation. Do you hear me, Mister?"
Gus bit his lip and nodded his head, but he knew the score; it was only a matter of time before their amicable separation fell apart. It would also be him and JR that would be caught in the crosshairs when the time came.
. . . . .
His father flew up for the event and sat on the floor beside Gus as the boy packed up everything he owned into cardboard boxes.
The tiny house had been sold, and Gus and Lindsay were moving into a minuscule sized apartment in the city proper. Brian refrained from noting the space made Justin's old craptastic New York apartment look like the fucking loft in comparison.
"This fucking blows. Totally. Fucking. Blows," Gus said, loading the last of his computer components into the meticulously labeled boxes.
Beside him, Brian nodded solemnly; he'd never expected the great couple to implode. Then again, he didn't see it coming the last time, either.
When the last of the boxes were loaded into the U-Haul (the Munchers had refused to let Brian pay for a proper moving service), Gus slid into the cab beside his father while Lindsay went back to the house to say her goodbyes to Melanie, JR, and their life together.
"You're not going to say goodbye to your little sister," he asked, turning the engine over.
Still watching the tearful goodbye in the side view mirror, Gus shrugged his shoulders. "All those times you saw me off to the airport and you have to ask me why?"
Lips thinning, Brian began to play with the keychain. He knew the words of support were bullshit, but he couldn't help but say them.
"You'll see them both in a couple days."
Gus looked over at his father and offered an empty smile.
"That's what Mom said when we moved to Canada; you didn't fly up to visit me for months."
Shifting gears on the old standard, Brian side-eyed his kid and wondered when Gus had become so cynical.
The new apartment was a two bedroom, one bath crackerbox. But the 'best' part? It was in a totally new school district that his old one. Gus protested all of this with silent, heated glances as he unpacked his things. Eventually, Lindsay none too subtilty suggested Gus go work on his room so the adults could talk without the K-I-D overhearing.
In the kitchen, above the clatter of coffee being made, Gus listened to his mother and father talk.
"I still don't see why the fuck you won't move back to the Pitts. The whole gang is there to help support you."
"And Michael and Deb would just pressure Mel into moving back, too. She's happy here. We both are."
And, yes, both Gus and Brian noticed the way that last little bit was a total lie.
"And what about Gus? You've got him shoved in a bedroom the size of a fucking broom closet."
"We'll make do..."
"My kid shouldn't have to 'make do' when I've got the cash to spare," he replied, tone so angry it made Gus pause in the middle of loading in his bookcase.
"Brian..."
"He's my responsibility, too. At least let me get you a house. Something with a backyard where the kid can play instead of that cement balcony..." Tone pleading.
"And what about JR? Where is she supposed to play? It's not like you can afford a house for both of us, and asking Michael wouldn't be fair."
Gus rolled his eyes. Apparently, his mother's logic in no way reflected earth logic.
"Then I'll sell Babylon..."
"No," she said, softly. "I don't want you to fix it. Not this time."
"But I can afford it..."
"You do help, Brian. You buy him new clothes when you come because your son grows like you wouldn't believe, and you spend time with him..."
"He deserves better, Lindz."
"Better than what? He's got his own room. He's got three parents that love him..."
"One of which lives in another country. Another on the other side of the fucking city, and you're going to be at work all the time. I thought you didn't want him to grow up with a nanny or a latch-key kid."
"Mel and I will make it work..."
"You wouldn't have to worry about it if you moved back home."
The first time his father said it, he hadn't believed his ears. The second time brought a glimmer of hope; once his dad set his mind on something, he'd do everything within his power to make it happen.
"This is my home, Brian. I've got a good job here..."
"And you can get a better one in the states. Justin's got a ton of connections now. I'm sure he or I could find you a better job."
"I'll think about it."
Gus sighed. He knew that tone; it meant she was hoping enough time would pass that his dad would forget about it.
. . . . .
Two months into the separation, the Mommies had a schedule set--Gus and JR would spend alternating weekends with the Moms.
The Mommies loved the schedule--a chance to have two days by themselves.
The kids hated it. JR would cry and cling to Gus for the first couple of hours they saw each other, and she'd do the same when they were separated.
Add to that the fact that neither kid really had a space of their own in the other apartment, and things were made more uncomfortable.
Weekends Gus spent at Melanie's, he rode the couch, and, when JR was over, she'd either do the same or sleep in the bed with Lindsay.
And then the Dads started to fly up for the weekends, and, while Brian made it a point to include both kids, Michael wasn't always as accommodating.
"You don't mind, do you, big man," he'd ask while herding JR out of Mel's house.
There were entire months he didn't see his kid sister.
And then, Christmas came.
Miscommunication resulted in Melanie inviting the Bruckner-Novotny clan up to Canada while Lindsay promised to bring Gus to Pittsburgh. Brian, who had assumed the Munchers knew what was going on, and assumed that Lindsay would hold to her word, buried himself in last minute Christmas campaigns.
It was two days before Christmas when they realized the mistake. Mel had come to pick JR up when she overheard Gus asking Lindsay if she remember to print their e-tickets for their flight the next morning.
"I thought everyone was coming up this year?"
And then it began. The yelling and queening out and 'how could yous' and Gus was so fucking tired of all this shit. I mean hadn't they separated for this exact fucking reason?
He saw the writing on the wall long before his mother appeared in the doorway.
"Honey..."
"Don't even start, Mom. You promised me and Dad that we'd go down to Pittsburgh and spend the break with him." It had been Lindsay's idea, in fact because Justin was stuck in Paris at an art show.
"But all the rest of the family are coming up just to visit with us."
Eyes glaring, face flush with anger, he replied, "I guess Dad was right all along; promises are just words, and words are disposable."
Christmas didn't turn out to be very merry after all. Crowded into Melanie's too small apartment, she tried playing hostess, and was failing miserably.
Every spare speck of space was filled with a person. Michael, Ben, Hunter, JR, Mel, Lindsay, Carl, Debbie, Ted, and Emmett all showed up and all of them tried to make due as they sat in the kitchen/dining room/living room/den talking about their lives while eating turkey off of disposable plates.
After listening to Emmett talk about his latest fuck buddy for ten minutes while trying not to use the actual word fuck, Gus slipped out of the room and down the hallway to JR's Palace of Pink.
Flopping down on the pink, foo foo bed, Gus routed around in his pocket until he found his cell phone.
After six rings, the answering machine at the loft picked up. Even before calling, he knew his dad wouldn't answer.
"Hey, Dad. I know you're probably sitting on the floor listening to me, drinking your way through the holiday," Gus said, smiling weakly into the phone as he called his dad on his shit.
"That, or you're balls deep in Justin. In which case, hey, Jus," Gus laughed into the phone before pausing again.
"Just called to wish you a Merry Christmas. The real, family fuzzy, lesbianic type and not the commercialized bullshit you sell to other people," he continued, laughing a little at the end.
Gus closed his eyes briefly, listening to the eating and talking and laughing from the other room. He knew his dad was at home, alone, sitting on the floor, half way to drunk, watching some stupid old movie. That he was screening everyone's calls because he didn't want anyone to know he was alone or for them to hear the hurt tone in his voice.
Sighing, Gus gripped his phone a little tighter. "Love you, Dad," he said before hitting the 'end' button.
JR was the one that came looking for him a couple hours after he disappeared. Crawling up onto her bed, she peered down into his face.
"Gussy Gus, they wanna unwrap the gifts," she said, face millimeters from his.
"They can open them without me."
"You can't stay in here and pout; it's Christmas."
As if the word and the day would erase all the badness in the world. Sometimes he really did forget how young she was.
"I'm just a little sad, Jen Bug."
"'Cause your Daddy's not here?"
Gus nodded, watching as the little girl curled up at his side and rested her head on his chest.
"I'm sorry, Gussy Gus. I bet your daddy is, too."
"It just sucks that, sometimes, parents forget that not only are they capable of screwing up their own lives, they can mess up their kids, too."
Gus sat on the kitchen counter a couple of feet away from the Christmas Orgy that was gift giving. Seriously. If they wanted to hear all these 'oo's and 'ah's they could have saved themselves the ticket money and gone to the backroom of Babylon.
His glowering was interrupted by Melanie. Faux-smile in place, she shoved a small, wrapped box into his hands. He looked at it to her and back.
"Aren't you going to open it," she asked in that 'my patience is wearing thin' tone.
"Why? It's not what I want," he replied.
"How the fuck do you know it's not what you want when you haven't even opened it yet," she asked throwing her hands up in the air.
"Because, unless you've figured out how to fit my father into a jewel case, I really don't think it's going to matter what's beneath the wrapper," he said, voice rising as he pushed the package back into her hands.
The room suddenly fell silent, all eyes turning on the two of them.
Sliding from the counter, he looked her straight in eye to make sure he got his message across before turning to look at the gathered family's shocked expression.
"Before you bother giving my dad any shit for not being here, perhaps you ought to know that Mom had promised she and I would be going down to Christmas. These two decided not to tell him until it was too late," he said, looking pointedly at his mother. "And now that I've spoken my mind, I'll be going to my...I mean JR's room so that you can go back to your little festivities, and I can start my grounding." A beat. "At least this way I get to spend my holiday the same way my father is--alone."
With that, Gus left the room and returned to JR's where he flopped across the bed. Two hours later, JR, decked in her Hello Kitty PJs, joined him.
"You made the Moms mad."
Gus snorted, tucking them both in to JR's too tiny bed.
"Like I care," he replied.
"Momma said she was gonna return all your stuff to the store," she said, pulling her warn little teddy bear against her chest.
"Doesn't matter."
"But that means Santa'll bring you coal next year."
Rolling his eyes, Gus tried to figure out a reasonable response without telling the kid there was no such thing as Santa.
"There's worse stuff in the world than talking back to your mom."
Scrunching up her nose, JR asked, "Like what?"
"Like killing people. Like kidnapping. And lying to people. Especially to people you love."
JR nodded, absorbing it all in the way a five year old could--wide, questioning eyes and an attempt to soothe the wound.
"We can share my presents if you want."
Gus offered her a crooked smile. Like he needed forty thousand Barbies or Hello Kitty dolls. Then again, it was a sweet offer.
"Nah, Jen Bug, I'm good."
"Good." A beat. "Now that you're feeling better, you can tell me a story."
And, yeah, he had to laugh at the five year old logic of it all. He did, however, launch into one none the less.
"Once there was a creature named SpongBob. He lived in a pineapple under the sea..."
. . . . .
After The Great Christmas Fiasco, the Moms tried to lay down the law. They thought the best time to do this was on the day after Christmas.
However, their inability to agree on how to discipline him lead to a fight that lasted most of the morning leaving Gus copious amounts of time in which to craft a clever solution to his problem. One that both a business person and a lawyer could appreciate.
Of course, as all wise people know to do, the first person he called was Cynthia who was able to email him everything he needed in under ten minutes.
"You did what?"
"I drew up a schedule. One that outlines where I'll spend major holidays for the next year as well as the basics--who I be with on what weekend. Contingency plans of one of the Dads comes up here unexpected," Gus said, setting two copies down in front of his moms.
"I thought you could each go over it, initial next to each of the major extended holidays saying you approve, and sign beneath December. Then, we could fax a copy to dad. You know. So there's no 'miscommunication' again."
"I'm not going to sign this; it's ludicrous!"
"Isn't this the type of thing that do in custody cases when the interested parties have a difficult time keeping within the boundaries?"
"Well, yes, but..."
"But, yes, nothing, Momma. Unless you want me to queen out all over the place, I suggest you sign and initial."
Melanie threw him a heated gaze. "Gus," she started.
Gus knew that tone. Knew that every other time he would have backed down, but not this time.
"I don't want a repeat of Christmas. It wasn't fair to me to sit and watch JR with her Daddy while mine was thousands of miles away because you two 'accidently' forgot to get on the same page. Since you don't seem to have any planning skills of your own, I drew up a fucking schedule," Gus said, throwing the papers on the kitchen table before going back to his broom-closet sized bedroom and slamming the door."
The next morning, Gus work up to find the contract where he'd left it, but it was initialed by both his mothers.
. . . . .
It was a year and some change into the divorce when things started to change drastically. Lindsay started dating an art critic. Tall, graying at the temples, Andrew had a slight limp when he walked from serving in the Gulf War. He smoked cheroots and liked his bourbon neat.
He was like Brian and Justin rolled into one man, and, on some level, Gus thought it was totally creepy.
At first, Gus began spending more and more time at Mel's which was cool with him because he got to see JR more. That was until Melanie realized the reason behind these extended visits and just who Lindsay had taken on as a suitor.
When Mel began dating in earnest, the game of Hot Potato began, but, instead of using a pillow, they used Gus and JR. Which led to a cold February night were Gus and JR stood in the foyer of Lindsay's apartment as their mothers argued.
Melanie, dressed for her date with Coral, and Lindsay, 'dressed' in a hastily tied robe and just fucked hair, screamed about the responsibilities of parents while said 'responsibilities' watched them.
. . . . .
There are all kinds of deaths, Gus learned.
There's physical death like the thousands of goldfish Lindsay plied him with out of guilt for forgotten promises.
There's loss of innocence. The realization that the Easter Bunny and Santa Claus are all bunk. The knowledge that comes with all the 'firsts'--crushes, kisses, and fucks.
But none are so crushing as when a child learns that, of all the people in their lives, those that they love are the ones that have the power to hurt them the most. And this kind of 'death' is the type you can never recover from.
fanfic100: 13/100
[No characters died in the making of this production. I did, however, mess with them a little bit.]
Sydney Alexis
Angst Warning
It didn't end the way they thought it would. Like it did all the previous times before.
This time, it was amicable.
This time, there was no raised voices or hiding behind a lie. No 'in house separation' or being pressured back together by the gang.
For the first time in her life, Lindsay completely understood the phrase dissolutionment of marriage.
It happened on a Tuesday. One moment she was cutting up an onion and watching Gus and JR play in the backyard, and the next she was crying. And, no, it wasn't because of the onion.
See...time is a sneaky little bastard. One minute you're young and in love and the next you're married with two kids, struggling to pay car notes, mortgages, and utility bills.
More of your time is poured into work and your kids and maintaining your too expensive house and car until one day you wake up and your partner turned into a stranger. That's when you either start fighting for what you want or stop going through the motions.
By the time Melanie got home, the kids were in bed asleep and all but one of the lights in the house were off.
Lindsay waited until she'd finished eating before saying, "We need to talk."
Carefully setting her dinner plate in the dishwasher, Melanie stood, hands braced on the counter, back to Lindsay.
"I know," she said, softly.
This time, there wasn't a big blow up with angry words like affair carelessly tossed around like Mardi Gras beads.
There was grief, just as last time, but it was more for the relationship lost along the way.
But, more telling, there was relief. Glad that this farce was coming to a close.
In the space of one evening, the terms were ironed out--visitation schedules, the house being sold, property division.
The only thing left to do was tell the family--starting with JR and Gus.
. . . . .
Gus was nine when it happened, and, to be honest, he saw it coming. Divorce was the thing for parents, wasn't it? Like phallus cars for mid-life crisis of years past.
"Now, we want you both to understand that we love you both very much..." Lindsay started.
Gus rolled his eyes. Jesus. H. Christ! JR was too young to really get what was going on and he passed the 'baby me' phase a hell of a long time ago.
"Does this mean we're gonna move again," Gus interrupted, staring his mother down. "Or are you going to try that lame, in-house separation shit?"
Rather than correcting his language, Lindsay bit her lower lip before shaking her head. "No, kiddo. We're going to move into our own place."
"So what? I'm supposed to spend every other week here? Every other month? And when am I gonna see Junior," he asked, pointing his thumb at JR who was curled up on the sofa, head resting on his leg.
"You'll spend every other holiday and summers with me," Melanie said.
Gus' head snapped towards Melanie's. This couldn't be happening. "I thought that was the arrangement with Dad. When the hell am I supposed to see him."
Lindsay reached out and smoothed his hair down. Instantly, his eyes fell on his mom's, and any protest he had about the babying touch he offered died on his lips when she said, "You'll see him whenever he comes to visit."
That's when Gus realized how permanent it was.
Mouth open, jaw working.
He always assumed it would happen, but, now that it had crystallized, that sick feeling in his stomach started to grow.
"So what? You two decide to split and JR and I just follow you blindly?"
"Gus..." Mel started.
"No. You don't get it. I can fucking divide. Twelve months a year, three parents a piece. That means I spend a maximum of 4 months with each parent. It also means I'll probably only see JR a couple months out of the year.
"Who's gonna work with her on her letters and watch her dumb butt when you're busy making dinner," Gus said, feeling his eyes well with tears.
"And when in the fuck am I supposed to see Dad? I mean the summer is our time, but sometimes he comes up here just to visit. It's not like he's gonna come with I'm with Momma because they hate each other..."
"That's not true," Mel interrupted.
"Isn't it? You're always saying shit about him..."
Melanie sat on the coffee table opposite her children and looked Gus straight in the eyes.
"I promise I will never keep you from visiting with JR or your daddy. You can come over and visit with her any time you want to. You know that, sweetie," Mel said, watching her son stroking JR's hair. The little girl, clearly feeling her brother's agitation, started sucking on her thumb.
"Yeah. That's how it always starts. And then it's call before you come over. And then you meet someone new...and where the fuck do I fit in? The kid you fucking adopted and feel obligated to seeing every once in awhile."
"You are not and never will be an obligation. Do you hear me, Mister?"
Gus bit his lip and nodded his head, but he knew the score; it was only a matter of time before their amicable separation fell apart. It would also be him and JR that would be caught in the crosshairs when the time came.
. . . . .
His father flew up for the event and sat on the floor beside Gus as the boy packed up everything he owned into cardboard boxes.
The tiny house had been sold, and Gus and Lindsay were moving into a minuscule sized apartment in the city proper. Brian refrained from noting the space made Justin's old craptastic New York apartment look like the fucking loft in comparison.
"This fucking blows. Totally. Fucking. Blows," Gus said, loading the last of his computer components into the meticulously labeled boxes.
Beside him, Brian nodded solemnly; he'd never expected the great couple to implode. Then again, he didn't see it coming the last time, either.
When the last of the boxes were loaded into the U-Haul (the Munchers had refused to let Brian pay for a proper moving service), Gus slid into the cab beside his father while Lindsay went back to the house to say her goodbyes to Melanie, JR, and their life together.
"You're not going to say goodbye to your little sister," he asked, turning the engine over.
Still watching the tearful goodbye in the side view mirror, Gus shrugged his shoulders. "All those times you saw me off to the airport and you have to ask me why?"
Lips thinning, Brian began to play with the keychain. He knew the words of support were bullshit, but he couldn't help but say them.
"You'll see them both in a couple days."
Gus looked over at his father and offered an empty smile.
"That's what Mom said when we moved to Canada; you didn't fly up to visit me for months."
Shifting gears on the old standard, Brian side-eyed his kid and wondered when Gus had become so cynical.
The new apartment was a two bedroom, one bath crackerbox. But the 'best' part? It was in a totally new school district that his old one. Gus protested all of this with silent, heated glances as he unpacked his things. Eventually, Lindsay none too subtilty suggested Gus go work on his room so the adults could talk without the K-I-D overhearing.
In the kitchen, above the clatter of coffee being made, Gus listened to his mother and father talk.
"I still don't see why the fuck you won't move back to the Pitts. The whole gang is there to help support you."
"And Michael and Deb would just pressure Mel into moving back, too. She's happy here. We both are."
And, yes, both Gus and Brian noticed the way that last little bit was a total lie.
"And what about Gus? You've got him shoved in a bedroom the size of a fucking broom closet."
"We'll make do..."
"My kid shouldn't have to 'make do' when I've got the cash to spare," he replied, tone so angry it made Gus pause in the middle of loading in his bookcase.
"Brian..."
"He's my responsibility, too. At least let me get you a house. Something with a backyard where the kid can play instead of that cement balcony..." Tone pleading.
"And what about JR? Where is she supposed to play? It's not like you can afford a house for both of us, and asking Michael wouldn't be fair."
Gus rolled his eyes. Apparently, his mother's logic in no way reflected earth logic.
"Then I'll sell Babylon..."
"No," she said, softly. "I don't want you to fix it. Not this time."
"But I can afford it..."
"You do help, Brian. You buy him new clothes when you come because your son grows like you wouldn't believe, and you spend time with him..."
"He deserves better, Lindz."
"Better than what? He's got his own room. He's got three parents that love him..."
"One of which lives in another country. Another on the other side of the fucking city, and you're going to be at work all the time. I thought you didn't want him to grow up with a nanny or a latch-key kid."
"Mel and I will make it work..."
"You wouldn't have to worry about it if you moved back home."
The first time his father said it, he hadn't believed his ears. The second time brought a glimmer of hope; once his dad set his mind on something, he'd do everything within his power to make it happen.
"This is my home, Brian. I've got a good job here..."
"And you can get a better one in the states. Justin's got a ton of connections now. I'm sure he or I could find you a better job."
"I'll think about it."
Gus sighed. He knew that tone; it meant she was hoping enough time would pass that his dad would forget about it.
. . . . .
Two months into the separation, the Mommies had a schedule set--Gus and JR would spend alternating weekends with the Moms.
The Mommies loved the schedule--a chance to have two days by themselves.
The kids hated it. JR would cry and cling to Gus for the first couple of hours they saw each other, and she'd do the same when they were separated.
Add to that the fact that neither kid really had a space of their own in the other apartment, and things were made more uncomfortable.
Weekends Gus spent at Melanie's, he rode the couch, and, when JR was over, she'd either do the same or sleep in the bed with Lindsay.
And then the Dads started to fly up for the weekends, and, while Brian made it a point to include both kids, Michael wasn't always as accommodating.
"You don't mind, do you, big man," he'd ask while herding JR out of Mel's house.
There were entire months he didn't see his kid sister.
And then, Christmas came.
Miscommunication resulted in Melanie inviting the Bruckner-Novotny clan up to Canada while Lindsay promised to bring Gus to Pittsburgh. Brian, who had assumed the Munchers knew what was going on, and assumed that Lindsay would hold to her word, buried himself in last minute Christmas campaigns.
It was two days before Christmas when they realized the mistake. Mel had come to pick JR up when she overheard Gus asking Lindsay if she remember to print their e-tickets for their flight the next morning.
"I thought everyone was coming up this year?"
And then it began. The yelling and queening out and 'how could yous' and Gus was so fucking tired of all this shit. I mean hadn't they separated for this exact fucking reason?
He saw the writing on the wall long before his mother appeared in the doorway.
"Honey..."
"Don't even start, Mom. You promised me and Dad that we'd go down to Pittsburgh and spend the break with him." It had been Lindsay's idea, in fact because Justin was stuck in Paris at an art show.
"But all the rest of the family are coming up just to visit with us."
Eyes glaring, face flush with anger, he replied, "I guess Dad was right all along; promises are just words, and words are disposable."
Christmas didn't turn out to be very merry after all. Crowded into Melanie's too small apartment, she tried playing hostess, and was failing miserably.
Every spare speck of space was filled with a person. Michael, Ben, Hunter, JR, Mel, Lindsay, Carl, Debbie, Ted, and Emmett all showed up and all of them tried to make due as they sat in the kitchen/dining room/living room/den talking about their lives while eating turkey off of disposable plates.
After listening to Emmett talk about his latest fuck buddy for ten minutes while trying not to use the actual word fuck, Gus slipped out of the room and down the hallway to JR's Palace of Pink.
Flopping down on the pink, foo foo bed, Gus routed around in his pocket until he found his cell phone.
After six rings, the answering machine at the loft picked up. Even before calling, he knew his dad wouldn't answer.
"Hey, Dad. I know you're probably sitting on the floor listening to me, drinking your way through the holiday," Gus said, smiling weakly into the phone as he called his dad on his shit.
"That, or you're balls deep in Justin. In which case, hey, Jus," Gus laughed into the phone before pausing again.
"Just called to wish you a Merry Christmas. The real, family fuzzy, lesbianic type and not the commercialized bullshit you sell to other people," he continued, laughing a little at the end.
Gus closed his eyes briefly, listening to the eating and talking and laughing from the other room. He knew his dad was at home, alone, sitting on the floor, half way to drunk, watching some stupid old movie. That he was screening everyone's calls because he didn't want anyone to know he was alone or for them to hear the hurt tone in his voice.
Sighing, Gus gripped his phone a little tighter. "Love you, Dad," he said before hitting the 'end' button.
JR was the one that came looking for him a couple hours after he disappeared. Crawling up onto her bed, she peered down into his face.
"Gussy Gus, they wanna unwrap the gifts," she said, face millimeters from his.
"They can open them without me."
"You can't stay in here and pout; it's Christmas."
As if the word and the day would erase all the badness in the world. Sometimes he really did forget how young she was.
"I'm just a little sad, Jen Bug."
"'Cause your Daddy's not here?"
Gus nodded, watching as the little girl curled up at his side and rested her head on his chest.
"I'm sorry, Gussy Gus. I bet your daddy is, too."
"It just sucks that, sometimes, parents forget that not only are they capable of screwing up their own lives, they can mess up their kids, too."
Gus sat on the kitchen counter a couple of feet away from the Christmas Orgy that was gift giving. Seriously. If they wanted to hear all these 'oo's and 'ah's they could have saved themselves the ticket money and gone to the backroom of Babylon.
His glowering was interrupted by Melanie. Faux-smile in place, she shoved a small, wrapped box into his hands. He looked at it to her and back.
"Aren't you going to open it," she asked in that 'my patience is wearing thin' tone.
"Why? It's not what I want," he replied.
"How the fuck do you know it's not what you want when you haven't even opened it yet," she asked throwing her hands up in the air.
"Because, unless you've figured out how to fit my father into a jewel case, I really don't think it's going to matter what's beneath the wrapper," he said, voice rising as he pushed the package back into her hands.
The room suddenly fell silent, all eyes turning on the two of them.
Sliding from the counter, he looked her straight in eye to make sure he got his message across before turning to look at the gathered family's shocked expression.
"Before you bother giving my dad any shit for not being here, perhaps you ought to know that Mom had promised she and I would be going down to Christmas. These two decided not to tell him until it was too late," he said, looking pointedly at his mother. "And now that I've spoken my mind, I'll be going to my...I mean JR's room so that you can go back to your little festivities, and I can start my grounding." A beat. "At least this way I get to spend my holiday the same way my father is--alone."
With that, Gus left the room and returned to JR's where he flopped across the bed. Two hours later, JR, decked in her Hello Kitty PJs, joined him.
"You made the Moms mad."
Gus snorted, tucking them both in to JR's too tiny bed.
"Like I care," he replied.
"Momma said she was gonna return all your stuff to the store," she said, pulling her warn little teddy bear against her chest.
"Doesn't matter."
"But that means Santa'll bring you coal next year."
Rolling his eyes, Gus tried to figure out a reasonable response without telling the kid there was no such thing as Santa.
"There's worse stuff in the world than talking back to your mom."
Scrunching up her nose, JR asked, "Like what?"
"Like killing people. Like kidnapping. And lying to people. Especially to people you love."
JR nodded, absorbing it all in the way a five year old could--wide, questioning eyes and an attempt to soothe the wound.
"We can share my presents if you want."
Gus offered her a crooked smile. Like he needed forty thousand Barbies or Hello Kitty dolls. Then again, it was a sweet offer.
"Nah, Jen Bug, I'm good."
"Good." A beat. "Now that you're feeling better, you can tell me a story."
And, yeah, he had to laugh at the five year old logic of it all. He did, however, launch into one none the less.
"Once there was a creature named SpongBob. He lived in a pineapple under the sea..."
. . . . .
After The Great Christmas Fiasco, the Moms tried to lay down the law. They thought the best time to do this was on the day after Christmas.
However, their inability to agree on how to discipline him lead to a fight that lasted most of the morning leaving Gus copious amounts of time in which to craft a clever solution to his problem. One that both a business person and a lawyer could appreciate.
Of course, as all wise people know to do, the first person he called was Cynthia who was able to email him everything he needed in under ten minutes.
"You did what?"
"I drew up a schedule. One that outlines where I'll spend major holidays for the next year as well as the basics--who I be with on what weekend. Contingency plans of one of the Dads comes up here unexpected," Gus said, setting two copies down in front of his moms.
"I thought you could each go over it, initial next to each of the major extended holidays saying you approve, and sign beneath December. Then, we could fax a copy to dad. You know. So there's no 'miscommunication' again."
"I'm not going to sign this; it's ludicrous!"
"Isn't this the type of thing that do in custody cases when the interested parties have a difficult time keeping within the boundaries?"
"Well, yes, but..."
"But, yes, nothing, Momma. Unless you want me to queen out all over the place, I suggest you sign and initial."
Melanie threw him a heated gaze. "Gus," she started.
Gus knew that tone. Knew that every other time he would have backed down, but not this time.
"I don't want a repeat of Christmas. It wasn't fair to me to sit and watch JR with her Daddy while mine was thousands of miles away because you two 'accidently' forgot to get on the same page. Since you don't seem to have any planning skills of your own, I drew up a fucking schedule," Gus said, throwing the papers on the kitchen table before going back to his broom-closet sized bedroom and slamming the door."
The next morning, Gus work up to find the contract where he'd left it, but it was initialed by both his mothers.
. . . . .
It was a year and some change into the divorce when things started to change drastically. Lindsay started dating an art critic. Tall, graying at the temples, Andrew had a slight limp when he walked from serving in the Gulf War. He smoked cheroots and liked his bourbon neat.
He was like Brian and Justin rolled into one man, and, on some level, Gus thought it was totally creepy.
At first, Gus began spending more and more time at Mel's which was cool with him because he got to see JR more. That was until Melanie realized the reason behind these extended visits and just who Lindsay had taken on as a suitor.
When Mel began dating in earnest, the game of Hot Potato began, but, instead of using a pillow, they used Gus and JR. Which led to a cold February night were Gus and JR stood in the foyer of Lindsay's apartment as their mothers argued.
Melanie, dressed for her date with Coral, and Lindsay, 'dressed' in a hastily tied robe and just fucked hair, screamed about the responsibilities of parents while said 'responsibilities' watched them.
. . . . .
There are all kinds of deaths, Gus learned.
There's physical death like the thousands of goldfish Lindsay plied him with out of guilt for forgotten promises.
There's loss of innocence. The realization that the Easter Bunny and Santa Claus are all bunk. The knowledge that comes with all the 'firsts'--crushes, kisses, and fucks.
But none are so crushing as when a child learns that, of all the people in their lives, those that they love are the ones that have the power to hurt them the most. And this kind of 'death' is the type you can never recover from.
fanfic100: 13/100
[No characters died in the making of this production. I did, however, mess with them a little bit.]