Healing - Twenty Eight - Consequences
Healing
Sydney Alexis
Twenty Eight - Consequences
[Sixteen]
“Bill…bill…credit card application…Save the Sea Turtles…Out,” Gus mumbled shuffling through his dads’ mail until…
“Jackpot!”
Tossing the rest onto the counter, Gus edged his finger under the envelope’s flap and pulled out the letter inside. He reread it four times before he actually started to feel anything but numb at what it was saying.
Gus -
So my therapist has decided that it’s time to send out reconciliation letters. I’ve already written my mom and dad’s. (His bounced back. Big surprise!) Of course, yours is a lot harder to write since I put you through so much shit.
I just don’t know what the fuck to say to you, man.
You’re the one that told me to stay off that shit.
You’re the one that was actually there for me - tripping or no. And I fucking burned you. Probably led to your own self-destruct.
I’m so fucking sorry, man.
I don’t expect you to forgive me for the shit I put you through. I just hope that you’re still willing to talk to my worthless ass.
Charlie
PS What’s this shit with your house being for sale?
Like he wanted to relieve that shit that went down in the bathroom. And what was with that postscript? Maybe it was something Charlie had smoked or something…some weird hallucination.
Ripping a couple of sheets out of his notebook, Gus fired off a reply while trying not to be weirded out that he was actually hand writing a letter rather than typing an email.
Asshat -
You idiot! I forgave your dumb ass ages ago. Now climb down off your fucking cross to make space for me! :P
I’m glad you’re making progress. Just be sure to keep your ass clean when you get out.
And what the fuck do you mean my moms’ house is for sale?
Gus
The reply came a week and some change later, but it sure as shit didn’t make him feel any better.
Gustaficus -
I’ll stay off my cross if you stay off of yours. Speaking of, how goes life with the dads?
No clue about the house. My mom just said she passed by it and saw a ‘for sale’ sign.
Charlie
The smile that he’d had at the greeting slipped from his face the moment he saw the second mention of the ‘for sale’ sign. Charlie tripping and dreaming up the sign would make it easy to explain away, but Mrs. Broussard didn’t play with the alphabet like Charlie did.
An internet search didn’t yield any hits; apparently, there was a ton of realty places in Toronto.
Once again, Gus replied though, this time ‘round, it was with a lot more agitation than normal.
Charlie -
My house is for sale? WTF? Last I heard the Lesbi-moms were off at some couples camp to rekindle their strap-on or whatever the fuck.
Things with the dads are good. I finished my junior year and am about to start at Carnegie Mellon to polish off my senior year. (Or should that count as senior semester?)
I kind of expected the dads to queen out or fight about it, but they kind of seemed pleased.
I finally did get off my ass and talked things through with them. Between telling them about all the shit that happened and the moms shipping JR to Michael, Dad kind of freaked. He kept saying that my moms had promised they’d keep me safe.
When I told them about CMU accepting me early and not wanting to go back to Toronto, he kind of looked relieved and then promised he’d do everything he could to keep me here.
I know it’s horrible to say, but, when he said it, I was actually happy.
The weirdness continues. Michael and Deb are actually being nice to me…in that 'I tolerate you because I must' sort of way. I suspect that JR had something to do with it.
She spent four days at Britin with the dads and me. Somehow, she weaseled into it.
Weirder still - Deb, Michael, and the dads are all on talking terms again. They’re not ready to completely forgive and forget all the way around but at least it’s something.
I’m probably going to curse myself for even writing this, but things are getting better.
So…when are you getting sprung?
Gus
The reply to his letter came a lot slower than any other had in the months previous. Gus had a pretty good suspicion as to why - he’d finally (and rather poorly) told Charlie that he’d be staying in the US indefinitely.
And, yeah, giving a suicidal, recovering addict something to freak out about probably wasn’t the wisest of moves. He was all prepared to call and make sure Charlie hadn’t done something totally stupid when a letter finally arrive in the mail.
Gus -
I’m glad you finally talked to your dads and that you’re finally starting to get this to work. (Didn’t I fucking tell you to talk to them like an age ago?)
Michael and Deb are talking to you guys? Jesus! JR is more of a persuasive shit than I thought!
I get sprung a couple of days before my junior year starts. Hopefully.
The listing for your moms’ house showed up in the newspaper. (I put it in the envelope with the letter. Don’t kill the messenger, man.) Looks like it’s really happening. You heard anything from them?
You know…it might not mean anything. You said yourself that they couldn’t really afford the place, and, with your ass in the Pitts, maybe they opted for something smaller that they could afford?
Charlie
Gus reread the letter twice to see if Charlie really was as okay with things as he sounded.
Before even glancing at the listing (because he so wasn’t ready to see it yet), Gus wrote and addressed his response.
Charlie -
So you’re escaping in what? Two…three weeks? I’ll start planning the bacchanalia. :D
Considering all the stupid shit JR’s talked you into doing in the past, I’m surprised that you’re surprised. (Halloween two years ago ring a bell?)
They listed the fucking house? Jesus. I’ve heard shit all from the moms since they sent me those letters and that was months ago. I’m going to have to check in with Jen Bug and see if she’s heard anything.
Gus
Once he’d sealed the envelope and set it in the outgoing mail stack, he picked up the torn newspaper listing. A miniature picture of his house was centered above a block of text. Beneath it was the number to a Toronto firm.
Frowning at it, still not willing to believe it true, Gus picked up the nearest handset and dialed his home phone number.
“We’re sorry…the number you have dialed is disconnected or no longer in service…”
He still wasn’t totally panicked; they’d had the phone cut off twice before because they couldn’t pay the bills.
Without giving himself time to second-guess himself, he dialed the number on the clipping Charlie had sent.
“Gossamer Reality, Jessica speaking. How may I help you today,” an overly perky voice asked.
“I’m calling about the property up for sale on Meadowbrook.”
“Oh yes! That was listed several days ago.”
Gus bit his lower lip. There were a few houses on Meadowbrook that kind of looked like theirs…
“What can you tell me about it?”
“It’s a Victorian style. Three bedrooms, two baths, converted attic, den, cozy living room with fireplace…”
Heart hammering in his chest, he went for the cincher.
“Why did the owners list the property?”
The realtor paused. “Oh. I assure you it has nothing to do with the property. The present owners are just separating.”
Gus’ stomach lurched. Just separating. Two words had never seemed so ugly before.
“Would you like to schedule a tour,” she asked, tone hopeful.
But Gus was barely paying attention. His mind was whirling. Were they actually going to do it? And what the fuck did that mean for him and JR?
“I’ll just need to check my wife’s schedule,” he replied absently.
“Of course. That’s no problem, Mr…”
“Kinney,” he said automatically. “Thank you for the information.”
The moment he hung up the phone he began biting his thumbnail in thought. He needed…wanted something more concrete. Surely his mothers wouldn’t separate and sell the house without a word to their kids?
With growing trepidation, Gus dialed Melanie’s cell phone. Her voicemail clicked in after the first ring. Lindsay’s did the same. He tried both their offices only to find them gone to voicemail, too.
He began pacing around Brian’s den, eyeing the computer there. It would be easy to hack the phone company files…find out what was really going on, but, if he was caught, he’d be in some serious shit. His dads’ didn’t deserve him bringing the cops down on them, too.
Sighing, he threaded a hand through his hair.
He was left with only one option.
Picking up the phone once again, he dialed information and requested contact information for his mother. Neither the number nor the address was one he recognized.
Pausing, he asked for a second set on information on a whim.
“And Melanie Marcus? Same location.”
There was a beat while the sound of clicking keys was heard in the background. The moment the operator’s voice came over the line, Gus felt his queasy feeling magnify tenfold; they didn’t match.
Gus dialed the number he had been given for his mother praying that the voice that answered wouldn’t be hers. And then, after several rings, an answering machine picked up.
“Hello. You’ve reached the Peterson residence. Please leave a message at the tone.”
He knew that voice. He’d heard it his entire life.
Eyes narrowing, heart beating rapidly, voice shaking, he left his message.
“So. I heard from JR that you two were off to make things work. Next thing I know, Charlie’s sending me a realty listing for the house,” he started, pausing to collect his thoughts.
“Thanks for keeping your children up to date. I assure you that I love to hear things second hand.
“Of course, I’ll probably get to hear all about how you two fucked or popped another kid and are miraculously back together again from someone else, too. So, for future reference, keep in mind you’re not just fucking up your lives but JR’s and mine as well.”
He hung up the phone with a little more force than was necessary, grabbed the clippings and new numbers off the counter, called a cab and waited outside for it to arrive.
He needed to talk to his father in person, and he wasn’t willing to wait until that evening to do it.
At the sound of someone entering his office without knocking, Brian’s eyes flew up from his computer screen towards his office door fully ready to chew the idiot out for their breach of manners. The protest, however, died on his lips the moment he saw the state his kid was in - anger, confusion, and grief were coming off of him in waves.
“Gus?”
Rather than saying anything, he slammed the real estate clipping onto his father’s desk.
Leaning forward to view it more carefully, Brian eyed it with the same disbelief his son had not an hour before.
The newspaper was joined by another slip of paper. This time, it was of two Canadian numbers in his son’s writing.
Gus dialed Lindsay’s new number, putting it on speakerphone. After listening to the outgoing message and hearing the ‘beep,’ Brian hung up.
Brian was quiet for a long moment, and Gus stood silently, watching several emotions cross his father's face before settling on barely controlled rage. After a long moment, Brian finally broke the silence.
“Have you told JR,” he asked, tone totally businesslike and in control. It was what Gus had needed…wanted once he’d started to put the pieces together.
Blinking slowly, Gus was surprised to feel the sting of tears in eyes. Wordlessly, he shook his head ‘no,’ sniffing a little as he flopped down into the seat opposite his father’s desk.
“How did you find out?”
Keeping his head down, Gus launched into a detailed explanation that was halted several times when his emotions got the best of him.
It wasn’t until he was finished that his father finally spoke. This time, it was with a much softer tone.
“I want to check into this…make sure it’s true before jumping to conclusions, okay?”
Gus’ head shot up, narrowed eyes meeting his father’s evenly.
“You want me to lie to JR?”
“I want to give your mothers a chance to explain,” Brian started, pausing to see if what he was saying was sinking in before adding, “I never thought that I would say this, but Charlie might be right; they might have moved somewhere else because they couldn’t afford the house.”
“But why two addresses?”
Trying and failing to look nonchalant, Brian shrugged. “Maybe your mother rented a studio.”
Gus shook his head. It was implausible that, if they couldn't afford the house, she'd rent a studio.
“Maybe they’re getting a divorce like that realtor said.”
“Or maybe they’re doing another trial separation as part of their therapy.”
“And you want to know which it is before you tell anyone else because they’ll totally queen out,” Gus said, nodding in understanding.
Brian edged around the desk and set his hand on Gus’ shoulder. “I’ll call them. I’ll figure out what’s going on, and we’ll decide what to do from there.”
Wordlessly, Gus stood and hugged his father. He was so fucking grateful that he was being included…that he wasn’t being dismissed.
Brian pulled back first, smiling a little awkwardly. Gus returned it, clearing his throat.
After an uncomfortable pause, Gus shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back onto his heels.
“So…is Cynthia around? I haven’t flirted with my girlfriend in awhile.”
. . . . .
The rocks and shells in the driveway crunched beneath her boots as she neared the front door. After the angry messages left from Gus and the less than cordial ones left by Justin and Brian, she wasn’t sure what kind of a greeting she was going to receive.
Especially after that morning's exchange; she'd called to explain about the house...and the divorce. Justin's reply had been clipped, their conversation brief.
It had never even occurred to her that Gus would find out about what had happened so soon…especially since she, herself, hadn’t really had enough time to process what had happened over the last few weeks.
After smoothing her hair down a little and tugging her collar into place, she reached forward and pressed the doorbell. Seconds that felt like minutes ticked by as she stood on the stoop, craning her neck to see through the ivy-covered windows. Finally, she heard the lock turning and the door creaking open.
Brian, shirtless, jeans half-undone, hair in disarray, covered in a light sheen of sweat stood in the doorway looking shaken. The emotion was quickly concealed however.
“May I help you?”
His tone held a slightly angry color.
Smiling a little unsurely, Lindsay said, “I came to see my son.”
Answering with his own sardonic smile, he responded, “Demanding as ever. I thought all WASPs were supposed to have good manners.”
Bristling at the put down, she tried to push past him. “You can’t keep me from seeing Gus.”
“He’s not here,” he explained, casually dropping an arm against the frame and blocking her path, Brian met her confused stare with a heated one. “Which I would have told you had you bothered to call first.”
“He wouldn’t have answered if I called,” she said, feeling a twinge of embarrassment coloring her cheeks.
A sharp intake drew her eyes back to Brian’s which were suddenly so carefully schooled. Unreadable.
In truth, he hated the small part of himself that felt sorry for her. But, more than anything else, he was furious. Weeks with no word. Phone calls that weren’t returned. He and his son trapped in a permanent state of limbo as they waited for the fall out.
“I fail to see how this is my problem,” he replied finally, tone bored.
Jaw ticking in anger, eyes narrowed to slits, she spoke again, “The terms of the agreement…”
“Entitles you to progress reports while he stays here and heals from all the shit he went through up there,” Brian interjected, pausing to let his words sink in before adding, “I am not going to force my son into talking to you if he doesn’t want to.”
“Like convincing him to talk to his mother for a few minutes would be hard to do.”
“If I wanted to force him, no, it wouldn’t be difficult, but the kid already has trust issues,” he replied, shooting a meaningful look as he pushed away from the doorframe.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
Her tone, scolding and angry, just fueled his rapidly building fury. For the second time in his life, he was the hairsbreadth from hitting her. Unfortunately, this time, she was within striking range.
“When you asked me to be his father, I asked you one thing - that you keep him safe,” he started, rising to his full height to stare her down.
“Now, not only do I find out that you and your wife took turns screaming at him and each other, but she fucking hit him.”
Lindsay blanched at the words. Looking anywhere but at Brian, she began to fiddle with her purse strap.
“It was an accident. She didn’t mean…”
Clenching and unclenching his fist, Brian continued to stare at her. This time, when he spoke, the neutrality in his voice gave was to the iciest tone he could manage.
“Funny. That’s what my mother always used to say when the cops showed up my place.“
“Mel and I are not your parents,” she countered, tone indignant.
Brian stalked towards her, watching her recoil in fear at the expression painted on his face.
“His friend was fucking self-destructing. He was self-destructing, but, instead of listening to him, being there for him, you tore his room apart. You threw him out of the house…”
“I didn’t throw him out; he left!”
“Did you even bother to go looking for him? Or did you just let him wander the streets, alone, in the middle of the fucking night?”
Shaky, skin ashen with shock, Lindsay stared at him, mouth working slowly, silently for a long moment before she could come up with a response. “He was so angry. Even if we did manage to find him…”
The whoosh-thud of his heart hammering in his chest intensified a thousand fold as he stared at this woman he once thought of as a friend.
Furious and desperate for something he slammed the flat of his palm against the doorjamb making Lindsay jump with fear.
“What the fuck did you expect? You just stood there and watched when Melanie hit him.”
Lindsay opened her mouth to respond, but Brian railroaded over any comment she could make.
“No. You’re nothing like Jack and Joanie. At least with them I knew exactly what to expect,” he said, voice low and even and deadly before he slammed the door in her face.
Brian leaned his forehead against the cool wood, expelling a long, low puff of air. He was furious at himself for losing control. Angry at Lindsay, Melanie, and himself for allowing things to get this bad.
But, more than anything else, he was fucking terrified. Not just of losing his son but also because of how close he’d come to beating the hell out of Lindsay…for making her feel a fraction of what Gus had.
. . . . .
The longer Brian took to come back to the living room, the more concerned Justin became. Fishing his pants from where they’d been discarded on the floor earlier, he pulled them on and padded across the house towards the front door.
From the rigid stance, he could guess who'd just dropped in for a visit.
Confirmation came soon enough as the carefully colored words gave way to deliberately cruel, returns. And, though they’d discussed Gus and his mothers on numerous occasions, Justin had to admit that he was more than a little scared as the conversation progressed. He’d only seen Brian that angry, that out of control, a handful of times.
And so he hovered, ready to jump in if necessary, but knowing that Brian needed to tell Lindsay all the thoughts that had been haunting him.
The moment he slammed the door shut, Justin breathed a sigh of relief and set about doing what he’d come to be good at after all these years of battling ‘the family’ - putting the pieces back together again.
Slowly, cautiously, he walked towards Brian and smoothed a hand over his spine before kissing his partner's shoulder blade.
Brian released a shaky breath.
“You needed to do it,” Justin said, softly.
Pushing away from the door and Justin, Brian went straight for the liquor cart, poured a drink, downed it in one, and ran a shaky hand over his day-old scruff.
“Doesn’t mean that I should’ve done it.”
“Fuck. That. She’s a part of this. A big fucking part.”
Smiling weakly, Brian wrapped a hand around the nape of Justin’s neck, fingertips grazing the short hairs, making him shiver.
Reading the action for what it is -- a silent thank you -- Justin smiled reassuringly.
Brian returned the smile and kissed Justin softly.
Expression changing to a mischievous one, Justin deepened the kiss into a longer, lingering one.
Pulling back regretfully, he whispered, “Later,” against Justin’s lips at the sound of the front door being keyed open.
Gus came tumbling through the door carrying several bags with JR close behind, laughter and JR’s booming voice following them as they entered.
“Did you see that woman with the day-glow fuchsia hair? What the fuck was that about?”
Snorting in response, Gus passed the kitchen were Brian and Justin were speaking in hushed tones and walked towards the dining room table.
“Need I remind you that you tried to dye your hair blue after Charlie’s experiments with Kool-Aid?
JR gasped. “That was two years ago,” she squeaked, making two years sound like an eon. “And you so swore that you’d never mention it again.”
“Consider it payback for you telling Michael all about that shit you promised not to repeat,” Gus said, voice absent of all malice.
“It worked in our favor didn’t it, asshat?” JR replied, preening a little.
“Oh ho! You’ve spent far too much time around Charlie; you’re starting to sound like him.”
Even with his back turned to her, Gus knew JR was sticking her tongue out at him.
“Pot/Kettle.”
Following Gus’ path, JR stopped short at the sight of Brian and Justin, inches apart in the kitchen. Rolling her eyes, she decided to announce it to Gus. “Your dads are making out again.”
Gus, pausing to set the shopping bags on the table barely batted an eye. “That’s because they’re so in wuv,” he responded in a teasing tone shot over his shoulder at his dads.
Still hopped up on sugar and the joy of shopping, JR came skipping into the dining room to where Gus was sorting his stuff out from hers.
“It’s kind of weird -- two people who’ve been together since the Stone Age are still going at it.”
“Hey,” Justin cried in protest. Beside him, Brian just snorted and smiled softly.
“You’ve got a point,” Gus said, pointedly ignoring Justin. “Sixteen years with a minimum of drama. It’s like…amazing.”
JR nodded, following Gus’ lead.
“The moms should so take lessons from them.”
“Isn’t that what Camp Hugs and Gropes is for? Bringing back the warm, fuzzy memories of their yesteryears so they’re more inclined to stay in their family home?”
JR rolled her eyes. “You may be smart and like über-hacker boy, but you totally blow at writing ad copy.
Snorting, Gus pushed the overly fluffy, too girlie for words purchases towards JR.
“That’s because I have a deep-seeded problem with feeding people anything but snark-filled truth. It’s my gift.”
Turning on his heel, he finally cast a glance towards his father, hoping that they’d finished…whatever it was they were doing because Gus had so learned the ‘make lots of noise before entering a room’ rule very early on.
The quip he had about deep seeded people died on his lips the second he saw his dads’ miserable expression. Gaze shifting from Brian to Justin and back, he asked, “Who died?”
Clearing his throat, Brian took a hesitant step forward. “You might want to sit for this.”
Gus’ eyes widened at the tone and the total and utter lack of term of endearment.
Shaking his head slowly while edging into one of the dining room chairs, he replied, “No good ever comes from those words.”
The second that Brian and Justin eased into chairs opposite of JR and his, Gus shot a pointed look at Brian.
“You’re not sick again, are you?”
Eyes growing large, JR pinned first Gus and then Brian with a hard stare.
“What the fuck do you mean ‘again’? When were you sick?”
“It was before your annoying ass came along,” Gus answered absently.
JR narrowed her eyes at Gus for a split second before looking at Brian with concern. “You’re not, are you?”
“No,” Brian said, clearly shaken that someone had told his son about that little chapter of his life.
There was a slight pause while Brian and Justin watched both children look visibly relieved at his response.
And then, Gus straightened in his seat as he figured out what it all meant.
“Let me guess; the silver thing that sped past the taxi was one of the moms looking to collect her lost sheep,” he said, tone bitter.
“Yes.”
Releasing an exasperated sigh, Gus sat back in his chair.
“And we have a record for shortest counseling session, too,” Gus said, drumming his fingers on the tabletop in annoyance. A couple of weeks at some stupid camp and suddenly they were ready to ‘handle’ him again. It was a little too like last time ‘round for his comfort.
Seeing the agitation coming from both kids, Brian leaned forward in his chair, took a deep breath, and revealed what Justin learned from his phone conversation a few hours earlier.
“Your moms are getting a divorce,” he said, watching them both to gauge their reactions.
JR’s reaction was immediate and obvious. A look of shock spread across her face at the same time she released a brief, strangled gasp.
“What?”
She breathed, throat burning and closing down.
Blinking slowly in shock, Gus’ eyes flitted briefly with quickly concealed pain.
“Told you that ‘Hug the World’ shit is worthless,” he mumbled to himself.
JR sniffed repeatedly beside him. The truth in his statement a little too much for her to bear.
Side-eyeing her, he said, “You didn’t expect them to stay together, did you?”
Rubbing at her eyes with her sleeve, JR met Gus’ stare for a moment before ducking her head back down. “No. But hearing it…”
Seeing the flushed, tear-streaked, utterly distraught face of his little sister, Gus felt his stomach clench and a sick feeling flood him that he tried desperately to hide from her.
It wasn’t just hearing it finally spoken out loud or knowing just how devastated it made JR.
As melodramatic…as hateful and cruel and single-minded as it sounded, the only thing Gus could think was how dare they.
How dare they pick the one moment when things were finally starting to fall into place.
How dare they try to wrest him from the tiny bit of happiness he’d etched out for himself. To snatch him away from his fathers. To use him as they had before -- as a whipping boy, as a catalyst to fight.
He hated his mothers more in that moment than he ever had.
Beside him, JR shifted in her chair, arms wrapping around his neck and clutching at him in fear and agony just as she had when she was younger and the moms were fighting. Smoothing his hand through her hair and down her back as he’d done on countless occasions, he whispered long and low into her ear what he knew she wanted to hear - more lies.
“It probably won’t last. They’ll be pawing at each other before the summer’s through.”
From the opposite side of the table, they watched the two survivors of the Peterson-Marcus household cling to each other.
Justin could feel the agony coming off of Brian in waves. He knew his partner blamed himself for what had happened. What was continuing to happen.
Slowly, cautiously, he reached out across the table and covered Brian’s hand with his own.
After startling a little, Brian looked down at their hands -- left over right -- and intertwined their fingers. Feeling the flesh-warmed ring against his fingers, Brian gently squeezed his partner’s hand.
Maybe he didn’t get everything wrong.
After a pronounced silence, JR finally pulled back from Gus’ shoulder and wiped away the tears from her puffy eyes. Sniffling again, she offered her brother a watery smile of thanks that he returned.
The moment was broken when Gus turned to look at his father for the first time in what seemed hours, and, in a hoarse voice, asked, “What’s going to happen to us?”
Meeting his son's stare evenly, tone absolutely resolute, he replied, “There’s no way in hell Michael and I are going to let either of you go back to them willingly.”
[Twenty Nine - Penance]
Betaed by: shadownyc
Sydney Alexis
Twenty Eight - Consequences
[Sixteen]
“Bill…bill…credit card application…Save the Sea Turtles…Out,” Gus mumbled shuffling through his dads’ mail until…
“Jackpot!”
Tossing the rest onto the counter, Gus edged his finger under the envelope’s flap and pulled out the letter inside. He reread it four times before he actually started to feel anything but numb at what it was saying.
Gus -
So my therapist has decided that it’s time to send out reconciliation letters. I’ve already written my mom and dad’s. (His bounced back. Big surprise!) Of course, yours is a lot harder to write since I put you through so much shit.
I just don’t know what the fuck to say to you, man.
You’re the one that told me to stay off that shit.
You’re the one that was actually there for me - tripping or no. And I fucking burned you. Probably led to your own self-destruct.
I’m so fucking sorry, man.
I don’t expect you to forgive me for the shit I put you through. I just hope that you’re still willing to talk to my worthless ass.
Charlie
PS What’s this shit with your house being for sale?
Like he wanted to relieve that shit that went down in the bathroom. And what was with that postscript? Maybe it was something Charlie had smoked or something…some weird hallucination.
Ripping a couple of sheets out of his notebook, Gus fired off a reply while trying not to be weirded out that he was actually hand writing a letter rather than typing an email.
Asshat -
You idiot! I forgave your dumb ass ages ago. Now climb down off your fucking cross to make space for me! :P
I’m glad you’re making progress. Just be sure to keep your ass clean when you get out.
And what the fuck do you mean my moms’ house is for sale?
Gus
The reply came a week and some change later, but it sure as shit didn’t make him feel any better.
Gustaficus -
I’ll stay off my cross if you stay off of yours. Speaking of, how goes life with the dads?
No clue about the house. My mom just said she passed by it and saw a ‘for sale’ sign.
Charlie
The smile that he’d had at the greeting slipped from his face the moment he saw the second mention of the ‘for sale’ sign. Charlie tripping and dreaming up the sign would make it easy to explain away, but Mrs. Broussard didn’t play with the alphabet like Charlie did.
An internet search didn’t yield any hits; apparently, there was a ton of realty places in Toronto.
Once again, Gus replied though, this time ‘round, it was with a lot more agitation than normal.
Charlie -
My house is for sale? WTF? Last I heard the Lesbi-moms were off at some couples camp to rekindle their strap-on or whatever the fuck.
Things with the dads are good. I finished my junior year and am about to start at Carnegie Mellon to polish off my senior year. (Or should that count as senior semester?)
I kind of expected the dads to queen out or fight about it, but they kind of seemed pleased.
I finally did get off my ass and talked things through with them. Between telling them about all the shit that happened and the moms shipping JR to Michael, Dad kind of freaked. He kept saying that my moms had promised they’d keep me safe.
When I told them about CMU accepting me early and not wanting to go back to Toronto, he kind of looked relieved and then promised he’d do everything he could to keep me here.
I know it’s horrible to say, but, when he said it, I was actually happy.
The weirdness continues. Michael and Deb are actually being nice to me…in that 'I tolerate you because I must' sort of way. I suspect that JR had something to do with it.
She spent four days at Britin with the dads and me. Somehow, she weaseled into it.
Weirder still - Deb, Michael, and the dads are all on talking terms again. They’re not ready to completely forgive and forget all the way around but at least it’s something.
I’m probably going to curse myself for even writing this, but things are getting better.
So…when are you getting sprung?
Gus
The reply to his letter came a lot slower than any other had in the months previous. Gus had a pretty good suspicion as to why - he’d finally (and rather poorly) told Charlie that he’d be staying in the US indefinitely.
And, yeah, giving a suicidal, recovering addict something to freak out about probably wasn’t the wisest of moves. He was all prepared to call and make sure Charlie hadn’t done something totally stupid when a letter finally arrive in the mail.
Gus -
I’m glad you finally talked to your dads and that you’re finally starting to get this to work. (Didn’t I fucking tell you to talk to them like an age ago?)
Michael and Deb are talking to you guys? Jesus! JR is more of a persuasive shit than I thought!
I get sprung a couple of days before my junior year starts. Hopefully.
The listing for your moms’ house showed up in the newspaper. (I put it in the envelope with the letter. Don’t kill the messenger, man.) Looks like it’s really happening. You heard anything from them?
You know…it might not mean anything. You said yourself that they couldn’t really afford the place, and, with your ass in the Pitts, maybe they opted for something smaller that they could afford?
Charlie
Gus reread the letter twice to see if Charlie really was as okay with things as he sounded.
Before even glancing at the listing (because he so wasn’t ready to see it yet), Gus wrote and addressed his response.
Charlie -
So you’re escaping in what? Two…three weeks? I’ll start planning the bacchanalia. :D
Considering all the stupid shit JR’s talked you into doing in the past, I’m surprised that you’re surprised. (Halloween two years ago ring a bell?)
They listed the fucking house? Jesus. I’ve heard shit all from the moms since they sent me those letters and that was months ago. I’m going to have to check in with Jen Bug and see if she’s heard anything.
Gus
Once he’d sealed the envelope and set it in the outgoing mail stack, he picked up the torn newspaper listing. A miniature picture of his house was centered above a block of text. Beneath it was the number to a Toronto firm.
Frowning at it, still not willing to believe it true, Gus picked up the nearest handset and dialed his home phone number.
“We’re sorry…the number you have dialed is disconnected or no longer in service…”
He still wasn’t totally panicked; they’d had the phone cut off twice before because they couldn’t pay the bills.
Without giving himself time to second-guess himself, he dialed the number on the clipping Charlie had sent.
“Gossamer Reality, Jessica speaking. How may I help you today,” an overly perky voice asked.
“I’m calling about the property up for sale on Meadowbrook.”
“Oh yes! That was listed several days ago.”
Gus bit his lower lip. There were a few houses on Meadowbrook that kind of looked like theirs…
“What can you tell me about it?”
“It’s a Victorian style. Three bedrooms, two baths, converted attic, den, cozy living room with fireplace…”
Heart hammering in his chest, he went for the cincher.
“Why did the owners list the property?”
The realtor paused. “Oh. I assure you it has nothing to do with the property. The present owners are just separating.”
Gus’ stomach lurched. Just separating. Two words had never seemed so ugly before.
“Would you like to schedule a tour,” she asked, tone hopeful.
But Gus was barely paying attention. His mind was whirling. Were they actually going to do it? And what the fuck did that mean for him and JR?
“I’ll just need to check my wife’s schedule,” he replied absently.
“Of course. That’s no problem, Mr…”
“Kinney,” he said automatically. “Thank you for the information.”
The moment he hung up the phone he began biting his thumbnail in thought. He needed…wanted something more concrete. Surely his mothers wouldn’t separate and sell the house without a word to their kids?
With growing trepidation, Gus dialed Melanie’s cell phone. Her voicemail clicked in after the first ring. Lindsay’s did the same. He tried both their offices only to find them gone to voicemail, too.
He began pacing around Brian’s den, eyeing the computer there. It would be easy to hack the phone company files…find out what was really going on, but, if he was caught, he’d be in some serious shit. His dads’ didn’t deserve him bringing the cops down on them, too.
Sighing, he threaded a hand through his hair.
He was left with only one option.
Picking up the phone once again, he dialed information and requested contact information for his mother. Neither the number nor the address was one he recognized.
Pausing, he asked for a second set on information on a whim.
“And Melanie Marcus? Same location.”
There was a beat while the sound of clicking keys was heard in the background. The moment the operator’s voice came over the line, Gus felt his queasy feeling magnify tenfold; they didn’t match.
Gus dialed the number he had been given for his mother praying that the voice that answered wouldn’t be hers. And then, after several rings, an answering machine picked up.
“Hello. You’ve reached the Peterson residence. Please leave a message at the tone.”
He knew that voice. He’d heard it his entire life.
Eyes narrowing, heart beating rapidly, voice shaking, he left his message.
“So. I heard from JR that you two were off to make things work. Next thing I know, Charlie’s sending me a realty listing for the house,” he started, pausing to collect his thoughts.
“Thanks for keeping your children up to date. I assure you that I love to hear things second hand.
“Of course, I’ll probably get to hear all about how you two fucked or popped another kid and are miraculously back together again from someone else, too. So, for future reference, keep in mind you’re not just fucking up your lives but JR’s and mine as well.”
He hung up the phone with a little more force than was necessary, grabbed the clippings and new numbers off the counter, called a cab and waited outside for it to arrive.
He needed to talk to his father in person, and he wasn’t willing to wait until that evening to do it.
At the sound of someone entering his office without knocking, Brian’s eyes flew up from his computer screen towards his office door fully ready to chew the idiot out for their breach of manners. The protest, however, died on his lips the moment he saw the state his kid was in - anger, confusion, and grief were coming off of him in waves.
“Gus?”
Rather than saying anything, he slammed the real estate clipping onto his father’s desk.
Leaning forward to view it more carefully, Brian eyed it with the same disbelief his son had not an hour before.
The newspaper was joined by another slip of paper. This time, it was of two Canadian numbers in his son’s writing.
Gus dialed Lindsay’s new number, putting it on speakerphone. After listening to the outgoing message and hearing the ‘beep,’ Brian hung up.
Brian was quiet for a long moment, and Gus stood silently, watching several emotions cross his father's face before settling on barely controlled rage. After a long moment, Brian finally broke the silence.
“Have you told JR,” he asked, tone totally businesslike and in control. It was what Gus had needed…wanted once he’d started to put the pieces together.
Blinking slowly, Gus was surprised to feel the sting of tears in eyes. Wordlessly, he shook his head ‘no,’ sniffing a little as he flopped down into the seat opposite his father’s desk.
“How did you find out?”
Keeping his head down, Gus launched into a detailed explanation that was halted several times when his emotions got the best of him.
It wasn’t until he was finished that his father finally spoke. This time, it was with a much softer tone.
“I want to check into this…make sure it’s true before jumping to conclusions, okay?”
Gus’ head shot up, narrowed eyes meeting his father’s evenly.
“You want me to lie to JR?”
“I want to give your mothers a chance to explain,” Brian started, pausing to see if what he was saying was sinking in before adding, “I never thought that I would say this, but Charlie might be right; they might have moved somewhere else because they couldn’t afford the house.”
“But why two addresses?”
Trying and failing to look nonchalant, Brian shrugged. “Maybe your mother rented a studio.”
Gus shook his head. It was implausible that, if they couldn't afford the house, she'd rent a studio.
“Maybe they’re getting a divorce like that realtor said.”
“Or maybe they’re doing another trial separation as part of their therapy.”
“And you want to know which it is before you tell anyone else because they’ll totally queen out,” Gus said, nodding in understanding.
Brian edged around the desk and set his hand on Gus’ shoulder. “I’ll call them. I’ll figure out what’s going on, and we’ll decide what to do from there.”
Wordlessly, Gus stood and hugged his father. He was so fucking grateful that he was being included…that he wasn’t being dismissed.
Brian pulled back first, smiling a little awkwardly. Gus returned it, clearing his throat.
After an uncomfortable pause, Gus shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back onto his heels.
“So…is Cynthia around? I haven’t flirted with my girlfriend in awhile.”
. . . . .
The rocks and shells in the driveway crunched beneath her boots as she neared the front door. After the angry messages left from Gus and the less than cordial ones left by Justin and Brian, she wasn’t sure what kind of a greeting she was going to receive.
Especially after that morning's exchange; she'd called to explain about the house...and the divorce. Justin's reply had been clipped, their conversation brief.
It had never even occurred to her that Gus would find out about what had happened so soon…especially since she, herself, hadn’t really had enough time to process what had happened over the last few weeks.
After smoothing her hair down a little and tugging her collar into place, she reached forward and pressed the doorbell. Seconds that felt like minutes ticked by as she stood on the stoop, craning her neck to see through the ivy-covered windows. Finally, she heard the lock turning and the door creaking open.
Brian, shirtless, jeans half-undone, hair in disarray, covered in a light sheen of sweat stood in the doorway looking shaken. The emotion was quickly concealed however.
“May I help you?”
His tone held a slightly angry color.
Smiling a little unsurely, Lindsay said, “I came to see my son.”
Answering with his own sardonic smile, he responded, “Demanding as ever. I thought all WASPs were supposed to have good manners.”
Bristling at the put down, she tried to push past him. “You can’t keep me from seeing Gus.”
“He’s not here,” he explained, casually dropping an arm against the frame and blocking her path, Brian met her confused stare with a heated one. “Which I would have told you had you bothered to call first.”
“He wouldn’t have answered if I called,” she said, feeling a twinge of embarrassment coloring her cheeks.
A sharp intake drew her eyes back to Brian’s which were suddenly so carefully schooled. Unreadable.
In truth, he hated the small part of himself that felt sorry for her. But, more than anything else, he was furious. Weeks with no word. Phone calls that weren’t returned. He and his son trapped in a permanent state of limbo as they waited for the fall out.
“I fail to see how this is my problem,” he replied finally, tone bored.
Jaw ticking in anger, eyes narrowed to slits, she spoke again, “The terms of the agreement…”
“Entitles you to progress reports while he stays here and heals from all the shit he went through up there,” Brian interjected, pausing to let his words sink in before adding, “I am not going to force my son into talking to you if he doesn’t want to.”
“Like convincing him to talk to his mother for a few minutes would be hard to do.”
“If I wanted to force him, no, it wouldn’t be difficult, but the kid already has trust issues,” he replied, shooting a meaningful look as he pushed away from the doorframe.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
Her tone, scolding and angry, just fueled his rapidly building fury. For the second time in his life, he was the hairsbreadth from hitting her. Unfortunately, this time, she was within striking range.
“When you asked me to be his father, I asked you one thing - that you keep him safe,” he started, rising to his full height to stare her down.
“Now, not only do I find out that you and your wife took turns screaming at him and each other, but she fucking hit him.”
Lindsay blanched at the words. Looking anywhere but at Brian, she began to fiddle with her purse strap.
“It was an accident. She didn’t mean…”
Clenching and unclenching his fist, Brian continued to stare at her. This time, when he spoke, the neutrality in his voice gave was to the iciest tone he could manage.
“Funny. That’s what my mother always used to say when the cops showed up my place.“
“Mel and I are not your parents,” she countered, tone indignant.
Brian stalked towards her, watching her recoil in fear at the expression painted on his face.
“His friend was fucking self-destructing. He was self-destructing, but, instead of listening to him, being there for him, you tore his room apart. You threw him out of the house…”
“I didn’t throw him out; he left!”
“Did you even bother to go looking for him? Or did you just let him wander the streets, alone, in the middle of the fucking night?”
Shaky, skin ashen with shock, Lindsay stared at him, mouth working slowly, silently for a long moment before she could come up with a response. “He was so angry. Even if we did manage to find him…”
The whoosh-thud of his heart hammering in his chest intensified a thousand fold as he stared at this woman he once thought of as a friend.
Furious and desperate for something he slammed the flat of his palm against the doorjamb making Lindsay jump with fear.
“What the fuck did you expect? You just stood there and watched when Melanie hit him.”
Lindsay opened her mouth to respond, but Brian railroaded over any comment she could make.
“No. You’re nothing like Jack and Joanie. At least with them I knew exactly what to expect,” he said, voice low and even and deadly before he slammed the door in her face.
Brian leaned his forehead against the cool wood, expelling a long, low puff of air. He was furious at himself for losing control. Angry at Lindsay, Melanie, and himself for allowing things to get this bad.
But, more than anything else, he was fucking terrified. Not just of losing his son but also because of how close he’d come to beating the hell out of Lindsay…for making her feel a fraction of what Gus had.
. . . . .
The longer Brian took to come back to the living room, the more concerned Justin became. Fishing his pants from where they’d been discarded on the floor earlier, he pulled them on and padded across the house towards the front door.
From the rigid stance, he could guess who'd just dropped in for a visit.
Confirmation came soon enough as the carefully colored words gave way to deliberately cruel, returns. And, though they’d discussed Gus and his mothers on numerous occasions, Justin had to admit that he was more than a little scared as the conversation progressed. He’d only seen Brian that angry, that out of control, a handful of times.
And so he hovered, ready to jump in if necessary, but knowing that Brian needed to tell Lindsay all the thoughts that had been haunting him.
The moment he slammed the door shut, Justin breathed a sigh of relief and set about doing what he’d come to be good at after all these years of battling ‘the family’ - putting the pieces back together again.
Slowly, cautiously, he walked towards Brian and smoothed a hand over his spine before kissing his partner's shoulder blade.
Brian released a shaky breath.
“You needed to do it,” Justin said, softly.
Pushing away from the door and Justin, Brian went straight for the liquor cart, poured a drink, downed it in one, and ran a shaky hand over his day-old scruff.
“Doesn’t mean that I should’ve done it.”
“Fuck. That. She’s a part of this. A big fucking part.”
Smiling weakly, Brian wrapped a hand around the nape of Justin’s neck, fingertips grazing the short hairs, making him shiver.
Reading the action for what it is -- a silent thank you -- Justin smiled reassuringly.
Brian returned the smile and kissed Justin softly.
Expression changing to a mischievous one, Justin deepened the kiss into a longer, lingering one.
Pulling back regretfully, he whispered, “Later,” against Justin’s lips at the sound of the front door being keyed open.
Gus came tumbling through the door carrying several bags with JR close behind, laughter and JR’s booming voice following them as they entered.
“Did you see that woman with the day-glow fuchsia hair? What the fuck was that about?”
Snorting in response, Gus passed the kitchen were Brian and Justin were speaking in hushed tones and walked towards the dining room table.
“Need I remind you that you tried to dye your hair blue after Charlie’s experiments with Kool-Aid?
JR gasped. “That was two years ago,” she squeaked, making two years sound like an eon. “And you so swore that you’d never mention it again.”
“Consider it payback for you telling Michael all about that shit you promised not to repeat,” Gus said, voice absent of all malice.
“It worked in our favor didn’t it, asshat?” JR replied, preening a little.
“Oh ho! You’ve spent far too much time around Charlie; you’re starting to sound like him.”
Even with his back turned to her, Gus knew JR was sticking her tongue out at him.
“Pot/Kettle.”
Following Gus’ path, JR stopped short at the sight of Brian and Justin, inches apart in the kitchen. Rolling her eyes, she decided to announce it to Gus. “Your dads are making out again.”
Gus, pausing to set the shopping bags on the table barely batted an eye. “That’s because they’re so in wuv,” he responded in a teasing tone shot over his shoulder at his dads.
Still hopped up on sugar and the joy of shopping, JR came skipping into the dining room to where Gus was sorting his stuff out from hers.
“It’s kind of weird -- two people who’ve been together since the Stone Age are still going at it.”
“Hey,” Justin cried in protest. Beside him, Brian just snorted and smiled softly.
“You’ve got a point,” Gus said, pointedly ignoring Justin. “Sixteen years with a minimum of drama. It’s like…amazing.”
JR nodded, following Gus’ lead.
“The moms should so take lessons from them.”
“Isn’t that what Camp Hugs and Gropes is for? Bringing back the warm, fuzzy memories of their yesteryears so they’re more inclined to stay in their family home?”
JR rolled her eyes. “You may be smart and like über-hacker boy, but you totally blow at writing ad copy.
Snorting, Gus pushed the overly fluffy, too girlie for words purchases towards JR.
“That’s because I have a deep-seeded problem with feeding people anything but snark-filled truth. It’s my gift.”
Turning on his heel, he finally cast a glance towards his father, hoping that they’d finished…whatever it was they were doing because Gus had so learned the ‘make lots of noise before entering a room’ rule very early on.
The quip he had about deep seeded people died on his lips the second he saw his dads’ miserable expression. Gaze shifting from Brian to Justin and back, he asked, “Who died?”
Clearing his throat, Brian took a hesitant step forward. “You might want to sit for this.”
Gus’ eyes widened at the tone and the total and utter lack of term of endearment.
Shaking his head slowly while edging into one of the dining room chairs, he replied, “No good ever comes from those words.”
The second that Brian and Justin eased into chairs opposite of JR and his, Gus shot a pointed look at Brian.
“You’re not sick again, are you?”
Eyes growing large, JR pinned first Gus and then Brian with a hard stare.
“What the fuck do you mean ‘again’? When were you sick?”
“It was before your annoying ass came along,” Gus answered absently.
JR narrowed her eyes at Gus for a split second before looking at Brian with concern. “You’re not, are you?”
“No,” Brian said, clearly shaken that someone had told his son about that little chapter of his life.
There was a slight pause while Brian and Justin watched both children look visibly relieved at his response.
And then, Gus straightened in his seat as he figured out what it all meant.
“Let me guess; the silver thing that sped past the taxi was one of the moms looking to collect her lost sheep,” he said, tone bitter.
“Yes.”
Releasing an exasperated sigh, Gus sat back in his chair.
“And we have a record for shortest counseling session, too,” Gus said, drumming his fingers on the tabletop in annoyance. A couple of weeks at some stupid camp and suddenly they were ready to ‘handle’ him again. It was a little too like last time ‘round for his comfort.
Seeing the agitation coming from both kids, Brian leaned forward in his chair, took a deep breath, and revealed what Justin learned from his phone conversation a few hours earlier.
“Your moms are getting a divorce,” he said, watching them both to gauge their reactions.
JR’s reaction was immediate and obvious. A look of shock spread across her face at the same time she released a brief, strangled gasp.
“What?”
She breathed, throat burning and closing down.
Blinking slowly in shock, Gus’ eyes flitted briefly with quickly concealed pain.
“Told you that ‘Hug the World’ shit is worthless,” he mumbled to himself.
JR sniffed repeatedly beside him. The truth in his statement a little too much for her to bear.
Side-eyeing her, he said, “You didn’t expect them to stay together, did you?”
Rubbing at her eyes with her sleeve, JR met Gus’ stare for a moment before ducking her head back down. “No. But hearing it…”
Seeing the flushed, tear-streaked, utterly distraught face of his little sister, Gus felt his stomach clench and a sick feeling flood him that he tried desperately to hide from her.
It wasn’t just hearing it finally spoken out loud or knowing just how devastated it made JR.
As melodramatic…as hateful and cruel and single-minded as it sounded, the only thing Gus could think was how dare they.
How dare they pick the one moment when things were finally starting to fall into place.
How dare they try to wrest him from the tiny bit of happiness he’d etched out for himself. To snatch him away from his fathers. To use him as they had before -- as a whipping boy, as a catalyst to fight.
He hated his mothers more in that moment than he ever had.
Beside him, JR shifted in her chair, arms wrapping around his neck and clutching at him in fear and agony just as she had when she was younger and the moms were fighting. Smoothing his hand through her hair and down her back as he’d done on countless occasions, he whispered long and low into her ear what he knew she wanted to hear - more lies.
“It probably won’t last. They’ll be pawing at each other before the summer’s through.”
From the opposite side of the table, they watched the two survivors of the Peterson-Marcus household cling to each other.
Justin could feel the agony coming off of Brian in waves. He knew his partner blamed himself for what had happened. What was continuing to happen.
Slowly, cautiously, he reached out across the table and covered Brian’s hand with his own.
After startling a little, Brian looked down at their hands -- left over right -- and intertwined their fingers. Feeling the flesh-warmed ring against his fingers, Brian gently squeezed his partner’s hand.
Maybe he didn’t get everything wrong.
After a pronounced silence, JR finally pulled back from Gus’ shoulder and wiped away the tears from her puffy eyes. Sniffling again, she offered her brother a watery smile of thanks that he returned.
The moment was broken when Gus turned to look at his father for the first time in what seemed hours, and, in a hoarse voice, asked, “What’s going to happen to us?”
Meeting his son's stare evenly, tone absolutely resolute, he replied, “There’s no way in hell Michael and I are going to let either of you go back to them willingly.”
[Twenty Nine - Penance]
Betaed by: shadownyc