The Boston boys got home in mid-afternoon on Saturday, July 18th. Just like for the New York trip, Kyle had left his car in the airport parking lot. Sonya was there to meet the plane, and George rode home with her. The four boys rode home with Kyle. The Goodsons were away for the weekend, so Kyle came to our house. Tim dropped his luggage at home, but he said that he thought his dad and Sonya deserved some privacy. He came down to our house, too. Trixie was all over the travelers when they came in. I don't think you can beat a good dog like she was for showing pure joy and love in a situation like that. It was pretty clear that Brian was her favorite, but she loved all of them. They petted her and roughhoused with her a little, and she was content that her people were home safe. Seth and Cody, Jeff and Tyler, and Alex were all there when they came home. They were almost as joyful at their return as Trixie was. Rick made a pot of coffee, and we all huddled in the den to hear about the trip. They had souvenirs for everybody, but they had gone in together and bought a single gift for each of us that was probably nicer than they would have bought individually. Everybody got a Red Sox cap, and then there were individual gifts for us. They talked all about the adventures they had had in Boston. "Brian had the biggest adventure," Kyle said. "What happened, Bri," I asked. "I got lost," he said. "We were at Quincy Market, this really old place that is all shops and restaurants and coffeehouses and galleries and stuff like that. Actually, I didn't really get lost. I just got separated from the other three. I knew I could get back to the hotel if I couldn't find them, but we had planned to go to a comedy club that night without going back to the hotel first. And I had no idea where the club was." "How did you get separated," Rick asked. "That's what we never did figure out," Brian said. "We were in a really crowded shop, and I was looking at books. I thought they were all still in there, but they left." "We thought he was right with us, too," Justin said. "All of a sudden, I missed him." "We went back in the shop, but he was gone," Tim said. "He had gone out looking for us." "I figured they were around there somewhere," Bri said. "I started to get a little panicky, though. I mean, like I said, I knew where the hotel was, but I was beginning to feel lost." "We found him, though," Justin said. "One thing we learned was, if you get separated, stay the hell where you are. Don't go looking for the others. They will eventually come back to where they last saw you." We talked for a good two hours about their trip, and it sounded like they had had a wonderful time. "Who wants to go swimming," Kyle eventually said. "I need some pizza, too." I looked at my watch, and it was, indeed, time to eat. The ones who had flown in that day probably hadn't had much to eat, since Delta had substituted a real meal with a bag of miniature pretzels. I'm sure the boys were hungry. I ordered a bunch of large pizzas to go around and a ton of salad. We had ice cream for dessert, if they wanted that. After we ate, we all went out to the pool. We all got naked to swim, and we had a wonderful time. It had been two full weeks since all of them had been there, and, frankly, Rick and I missed having our sons home with us. I heard a telephone ring, but I didn't pay any attention to it. There were seven of us officially living there that summer, nine if you included Tim and Kyle, and everybody had a cell phone. They rang all the time. I was quite comical to watch the boys try to figure out whose cell was ringing at, say, breakfast. That particular one sounded more like the house phone than a cell, but I didn't bother with it. "Rick, it's for you," Kyle called out. "It's your Mom." Shit, I thought. What does she want? That wasn't a hostile thought toward Sarah, Rick's mom. It was more like, Oh, shit, is something wrong? Rick got out of the pool to take the call. After about five minutes, he didn't re-emerge from the house. I went in to see what was going on. "Yes, ma'am. I'll be there as soon as I can," I heard him say, as I was walking into the room. He told his mother he loved her, and then he hung up. "What's going on," I asked. "It's my grandfather. He's dying," Rick said. He got huge tears in his eyes. I grabbed him up in a big hug, and he clung to me like a vine. "What happened," I asked. "He had a stroke, Babe. A really bad one. He's just hanging on by a thread." "Do you want me to get my dad down there," I asked. "I don't think there's any use in that, Kevin. I think this is the big one for him," he said. Rick and I were holding on to one another, crying our eyes out. His grandfather was his father's dad, and he had really raised Rick. I knew my guy was hurting in the worst way. "Do we fly or drive," I asked. "Drive, I think, but you don't have to come," he said. I grabbed him by both shoulders. "You don't want me there," I asked. "Of course I want you there," he said. His tears were streaming, and I knew those were sad tears. "That's what I thought, Babe. At a time like this? There's no question that I'll be there with you. You should know that." "I did know that," he said, "but what about the boys?" "They can take care of themselves," I said. "Kyle's in charge. You know that, and they do, too. They're fine with that." "I think we need to leave as soon as we can," he said. I went back outside and told the boys what was going on. They all became very somber. Some of them had met Mr. Mashburn briefly at Christmas, and they had all really liked him. They were sincerely sorry to get the news about his imminent death. Rick and I drove hard in my car, and we got to Sarasota around midnight. We went to his mom's house, and Arnie was up waiting for us. "It doesn't look good at all, guys," Arnie said, after greeting us. "How's my grandmother doing," Rick asked. "She's hanging in there, strong as an ox," he said. "Listen, I suggest you guys freshen up and get on over to the hospital. They aren't sure he'll even last the night." We did just that. Rick burst into tears when he saw his mother and grandmother in the Intensive Care waiting room. "I'm so sorry, Grandma," Rick said. "Thank you, son, but it's his time," she said. "The priest was here a little while ago, so now he's ready. Oh, my God, how he loved you, Rick!" "I know. And I love him, too, Grandma," he said. "Can I see him?" "We can go in in about ten minutes," Sarah said. "He's unconscious, of course, but I know you want to see him anyway." "I need to wash my face, I think," Rick said. He stepped into the men's room, and I went in with him. He bent over the sink to splash water on his face, and I stood right behind my man. I hugged him when he stood up, and he smiled weakly at me. "I know he's old and all," he said. "Eighty-five is a good age to die, I think." "At least he didn't have to put up with a painful illness," I said, trying to find some consolation somewhere. "True," he said. "He was healthy right up to the end." We all went in to see Grandpa Mashburn, probably to say goodbye. Rick kissed him on the forehead. "I love you, Grandpa," he whispered. As though responding, Grandpa said something like, "ahwww." At that instant the machines that were connected to him went off. Buzzers, beepers, small sirens sounded. Nurses ran in from everywhere, it seemed. They went to work on him like an army engaging the enemy. Nothing seemed to work, though. "Stop it!" Grandma Mashburn shouted. "He's been hanging on, waiting for Rick to get here. It's his time." The nurses backed off. Grandma went over to him and kissed him, no doubt like they had done millions of times. She turned to us and said, "Thank you for sending my precious boy home, sons. He was such a fine boy when I met him. We were both eighteen. We married when we were twenty, and in two months we would have celebrated our sixty-fifth wedding anniversary. He's happy and at peace with the Lord now, boys. That's the gift you gave him, Rick. He loved you so. And he loved you, too, Kevin, because you love Rick." Rick totally lost it, and so did his mom. Arnie and I had tears streaming down our faces, too. "Hush. You mustn't cry. He had a wonderful life, and now it's run its course. Andy and John are on their way here right now, and I'm just sorry Andy wasn't here for the end," she said. "Drew loved Andy so, but I'm not sure Andy ever really knew that." "Andy knew it, Sophie," Rick's mom said. "And he loved Drew that much, too." That's when she teared up for the first time since we had been there. "Thank you, Sarah. That means so much to me," Grandma said. "Rick, will you and Kevin take care of the arrangements for Grandpa," she asked. "Oh, yes, ma'am," Rick said, and I echoed him. A doctor came in just then to officially pronounce him dead. He offered some condolences to Sophie, and she accepted them graciously. "He had a long, happy, and productive life, Doctor," she said. "He's earned his rest."
You always know it's going to happen, sooner or later, but you really aren't ever prepared for it. I mean, I knew my grandpa was in his eighties, and people just don't live too much longer than that. In fact, he lived a lot longer than three of Kevin's grandparents, and that was a blessing. The thing that gave me some comfort, though, was what Kevin said about him not suffering. He was fine right up until the very end. He didn't die in his sleep after making spectacular love to my grandmother, but it was the next best thing. My grandmother's attitude made it easier for me, I think. She had lost her Kevin, after all, but she was willing to let him go because he had earned his rest. What a woman! Kevin and I slept at my grandparents' house that night, in what had been "my" room. I knew I didn't need to be there for my grandmother. She was fine and could take care of herself. I needed to be there for me, though. The room had what was referred to as a three-quarter bed: not a twin, but not quite a double, either. Kev and I were on top of each other in that bed, but that was good, too. My father and his partner were there the next morning when we got up. We had been up very late the night before, but Kevin and I were up by nine. My father and John slept later. They had the time-zone factor against them, and I was sure they would be up as soon as they were able to be. They had come in after we were asleep, and my father and John had taken his room. Kevin called the boys to let them know what was going on. I was on the extension. "Grandpa Mashburn passed away last night, Kyle," Kevin said. "I'm sorry. How's Rick doing?" "He's holding up. Everyone is," Kev said. "It was his time, Kyle. He had a full, rich life." Kyle sobbed. "It wasn't Clay's fucking time, Kevin," he said. "It was Clay's time, Bubba. We never know when our time is," Kevin said. He was being so gentle with Kyle that it almost made me cry. "When is the funeral," Kyle asked. "We don't know yet, but probably Tuesday or Wednesday," Kevin said. "We're all coming for it," he said. "Have you talked with the other guys about this, Kyle?" "Nope." "How do you know they'll come," Kevin asked. "Because I know they will. And not just our boys. I'm talking about everybody." "Rick, say something," Kevin said. "Kyle, don't make them do that, man. That's a hell of a long distance," I said. "Hi, Rick. I thought I heard something funny-sounding on this phone, but I figured Kevin was on his cell. It might be a hell of a long distance, Rick, but a lot of people also have a hell of a lot of love for you. Your brothers will be there, Rick." The boys drove in on Monday. Every one of them, including boyfriends. Gene and Rita, and George and Sonya drove in, too. Beth and Ed, and Craig and Cherie flew in from New Orleans. Our friends Monte and Terry came, as did Sam and Fred, and Chad and Gage. Jerry Taylor came, as did Pat Taylor and Mike Lawley. I was truly overwhelmed. I never expected anything like that. Father Vince Vickers, from the parish, and Jerry concelebrated the Mass of Resurrection for Grandpa. It was an unbelievably beautiful ceremony. There were four retired people there who provided the music and the singing. At Communion, they sang "I Am the Bread of Life," and I bawled. The Emerald Beach crowd knew that song well, and, led by Kyle, they sang it out big. They sang them all big. At the end, the recessional, as we took my grandfather out of the church to his grave, they sang "Be Not Afraid." I heard Kyle's deep voice laying the foundation for the rest of them. I wanted to sing, but I couldn't until the very end. "Be not afraid. I go before you always. Come, follow me, and I will give you rest." The old men who were pallbearers had trouble with the casket on the eight or ten steps down from the church, and Kyle actually whistled the boys into action on that one. Those boys took that casket from those older gentlemen and got it in the hearse without so much as a dip. The old men, my grandfather's life-long friends, passed him to his great-grandsons, and they smiled. They knew.
Sarah called to say my dad was on his last leg, and I knew we had to get there. It's not easy to get from San Diego to Sarasota, but John and I eventually made it. My dad and I had a somewhat rocky relationship. In the more recent years, he tolerated me and John, and in the most recent years he even seemed to like us. When I was in high school, though, it was like he knew I was gay and definitely didn't approve. John would come over to spend the night, and it seemed that his attitude was one of total disgust with us. He didn't officially know we were gay, but apparently he had some major gaydar working. John stayed in Sarasota for community college, and I went to Tallahassee to FSU. That's where I met Sarah. She was so kind and so accepting that I thought I could, with her help and support, overcome being gay. We dated for several months, and finally we had sex. I thought it was what was expected of me, and I was curious about what it was like. I should really say "made love," because I really did love her. Not in a life-partner kind of way for me, but I really did love her, and still do. Anyway, she was on the pill or some kind of contraceptive, but it didn't work. Lo and behold, she turned up pregnant. When I called my parents to give them that news, my dad was elated. I guess he figured I wasn't gay, after all. My mother was more restrained, but she was happy, too. They were going to be grandparents. They were in their late thirties when I was born, and they were already in their late fifties when Rick was born. I married Sarah when she got pregnant, but that didn't last long. I was still seeing John, for heaven sake, and she knew it. I loved her as much as a gay man could ever love a woman, but I was fully gay, and I knew that. Her parents were very cool toward the whole thing. They lived in some little nothing town in the Panhandle of Florida, and the thought of their daughter getting pregnant was abhorrent to them. They were Methodists and we were Catholic, and I think there was some suspicion there, too. I was from central Florida, and they were from north Florida, and that added to the suspicion. It was just not a good situation. Sarah and I managed to hold it together for a few months after Rick was born, but we decided to split up, eventually. It was an amicable divorce, and I agreed not to interfere with his raising. John and I wanted to move to California, anyway, so I would be out of the picture. My parents loved Rick from the instant of his conception, I think. Sarah somehow made it through FSU and became a teacher. I was making child support payments, but I was still in college myself. My parents subsidized the meager amount I could afford until I graduated and got a good job. I was a mechanical engineer, and, while it paid well, I found the work deadly boring. After a few years of agonizing work, John and I bought an appliance store. It was a sort of rent-to-own affair, although we did sell directly, also. It did well, and it certainly kept us busy. In time, we expanded to more stores, and now we have five. During those years, I made it back to Sarasota a few times to visit. I never did officially "come out" to my parents, but, of course, they knew. We never discussed the fact that John and I were gay and that we were lovers. We had been best friends since the eighth grade, and officially we were roommates. His parents lived in Sarasota, too, and he stayed at their house and I stayed at mine on those trips. Weird, but at least it preserved the charade that we were just roommates back in California. I saw my son Rick on those visits, of course, but we never really spent enough time with one another to develop anything like a relationship. I began to regret that as he got older and turned into a stunning young man. He was a marvelous athlete, something I could never begin to aspire to, and he looked a great deal like me. Having said that, it might sound a bit self-serving to say he was incredibly good looking, but he was. Not that I was, but my rough edges were all polished and smoothed in his appearance. "How's it going, son," I asked him on one trip when he was fourteen. He was obviously well into puberty, and he was already as tall as he would become. He still looked like a kid, but he was already shaving. "It's going okay," he said. We talked about sports and surfing and the things he liked to do. He was a Boy Scout, and he took great pride in that. Eventually, we got around to his social life. "Do you have a special girl," I asked. He averted his face. "No," he said softly. "What would you say if I said I think I might be gay?" Whoa! That threw me for a loop. Why it did that, I had no idea. Surely I understood what he was feeling, including the confusion of not knowing for sure about himself. "I would say that's perfectly all right," I said. "I thought you would. You're gay, aren't you?" "Yes, I am, son," I said. "John and I are lovers, and we have been since high school." "I know. Mom told me," he said. "Is that a problem for you?" "No, sir," he said. After that conversation, John and I alternated between his house and mine. Altogether, we only visited Sarasota a half-dozen times in the years Rick was growing up, but the next visit, the summer after he graduated from high school, John and I didn't hide from my parents. When John and I went to Sarasota for my father's funeral, we met Rick's partner for the first time. We knew Kevin existed, of course, both from my parents and from Sarah, with whom I had maintained a strong friendship through the years. We hadn't even seen Kevin's picture, though, and I wasn't quite prepared for him when we met. The great irony was my father seemed to have no problem with the fact that his grandson was gay. "Andy, I want you to meet the love of my life, Kevin Foley," Rick said the morning after Dad died. We exchanged pleasantries, shook hands, and the like, and I introduced John to Kevin. Kevin was almost identical in height and size to Rick. Where Rick was blond, Kevin was dark. They both had spectacular tans, and both boys could easily have gotten contracts as models, I thought. We made small talk with them for a while. It was a Sunday morning, and my mother wanted to go to Mass. I hadn't been to church in years, but John and I, along with Rick and Kevin, and Sarah and her new husband, went with her. After church we went out to have lunch. Surprisingly, my mom was bright and cheerful during that outing. I wasn't sure if the fact of Dad's death hadn't quite hit her yet. I mentioned that to Sarah later in the afternoon, and she told me she thought Mom was at peace with what had happened. Rick and Kevin went to the funeral home that afternoon to make the arrangements. Under other circumstances, that would have been my job, but my father had been much closer to Rick than he had been to me. I was glad my mother had asked my son to do that. Mom and John and I talked about Dad, of course, and she recounted some of the stories of my youth. John knew them all, and he had been involved in many of them. His parents came over in the late afternoon to pay their respects, as did several other of their friends. Most brought food. By and large, Sarasota was a place filled with northerners, but the old people, the ones like my parents who had grown up there or lived there for many decades, preserved such southern customs. The last of the people left by eight o'clock. I wanted to do something with Rick and Kevin, but I knew our place was in that house with my mother. She went to bed around nine, and the rest of us, tired from traveling and from the emotional events that had occurred, were right behind her. John and I spent time with his parents Monday, and we didn't get back to my house until nearly five. Our plan was to take everyone out to dinner and then have a quiet evening at home. The driveway was full of cars when we pulled up. "I thought all the old friends who are still alive had come around yesterday," John said. "Me, too." When we went inside, the house was filled, not with oldsters of my parents' generation, but with young men, teenagers mostly. "Andy, come and meet your grandsons," Mother said, with a smile. I could tell she was elated. I, on the other hand, was suddenly weak. Grandsons, I thought. My God! "These are our boys, Andy," Rick said. "Many of them, at least." He introduced them in turn. Evidently, all of them were gay because he introduced them as couples. Two of his "sons" had non-family boyfriends with them, Jeff and Seth, I think their names were. One, Alex, was by himself. Then he introduced their friends, including a Catholic priest. John and I couldn't turn out that many people at our house for a party where we were giving away a refrigerator, much less for a funeral eight hours away from home. "Grandma, I'm going to get some food out for everybody, okay," one of the kids said. He was a black-haired beauty, the same size as Rick and Kevin. "Thank you, Kyle. Our friends have brought a lot," Mom said. "Rick, I'm sure some of your friends would appreciate a drink. The liquor's where it's always been." "Yes, ma'am," Rick said. "Come on, Stud. You and Brian give us a hand," Kyle said. A big, handsome dirty-blond stood up, along with a smaller brunette who looked like an angel. There was definitely a party atmosphere in the room, and my mother, the new widow, seemed to be enjoying it all. In about thirty minutes, after the drinks were served, Sarah and Arnie, her new husband, came in with two couples, one older, one young. The boys and the friends all knew those people, and they turned out to be Kevin's parents, and brother and sister-in-law from New Orleans. They had just flown in. My mother had never met them, but she evidently knew who they were. After they were introduced to her, they were introduced to John and me. "This is blowing your mind, isn't it," Rick said to me. "My God! Yes," I said. He grinned at me. "These people are my family, and they're here for me," he said. His voice was strained and huge tears came into his eyes. I wanted to hug him at that moment, but I wasn't sure how he would react. So I didn't. Those kids laid out a meal for us that was spectacular in its presentation. I hadn't really paid attention to what the people had brought the day before, but I was almost sure there was more on that table than they had given us. Somebody must have gone to a deli or supermarket or something. There was a mountain of hot fried chicken, four or five vegetable casseroles, smoked sausages, a huge platter of ribs, coleslaw, macaroni and cheese, baked beans, potato salad, green salad, and six pies for dessert. "You done good," I heard Rick say to Kyle. Kyle grinned. "You knew we would, didn't you?" "Yeah, I figured," Rick said. "I love you, you little shithead." Kyle laughed. "I'm starting to like you a little bit, too," he said. Rick knocked the bill of Kyle's baseball cap, and Kyle bowed up in jest. Rick knocked it again, and Kyle took it off, grinning broadly at my son. There was obviously a closeness between them, and for a moment I envied Kyle. I wondered if Rick and I could have ever had that. John was at my side, watching the whole thing. "Any regrets," John asked. "Don't start, please," I said. He gave me a quick hug. It was time to form the buffet line, and, quite naturally, my mother asked the priest to say grace. "Mrs. Mashburn, I'd like to defer to Rick, if that's all right," the priest said. "Well, certainly," my mother said. Rick began: "Heavenly Father, this meal is all about fatherhood. We're here to celebrate my grandfather, who was like a father to me in my youth. My real father is here, too, to celebrate the life of his father. And my sons are at my side. Give us the grace to reflect your paternal care and concern. Grant my grandfather, Andrew Mashburn, eternal rest, and grant my grandmother a share of his peace. Bless us and these your gifts which we are about to receive through your bounty, in Grandpa's honor, through Christ, our Lord." "Amen," they thundered out. Everyone was stunned after that. Finally, Kyle said, "Good blessing. Let's eat." Mother was first in line, of course, followed by the other ladies and then the men. No sooner had everybody settled down in the living room, most on the floor, when the doorbell rang. Rick got up to answer it. Two more couples came in. They turned out to be Gene and Rita Goodson. They were Kyle's parents, and he was Rick and Kevin's boss. The other two were George Murphy and Sonya Jenkins. He was Tim's father, and she was George's girlfriend. That night in bed John asked me, "How many people were here tonight?" "I honestly don't know," I said. "I think I counted twenty-five, but I could be wrong." "I think I counted thirty," he said. "Probably, because I didn't count us or Rick and Kevin or my mother," I said. "Amazing," he said. "I know. He must really be something," I said. "Isn't it self-evident that he is," John asked. "I want to get to know him better. I want to get to know all of them better, Babe." "Kevin invited us to their house in Emerald Beach before we go home," I said. "Would you like to do that?" "I would love to do that," John said. "Me, too. Let's do it," I said. * * * My father's funeral was, well, magnificent. I had been to a couple of Catholic funerals of parents of friends in California, and they were vapid, at best. My father's funeral was inspiring, though. It was the Mass of the Resurrection, and that, in itself, was sort of inspiring. What really inspired me, though, was the singing. It was very clear to me that those boys from Emerald Beach knew how to sing, and they knew those songs. They sang loudly, and they sang well. I teared up a bit at the line, "I am the resurrection, I am the life; you who believe in me, even if you die, you shall live forever," at the Communion song. "And I will raise you up. And I will raise you up, on the last day." Wow! My mother was unbelievable after the funeral. I expected her to be somber and sad, but she was happy and joyful. It was very clear that she considered those boys to be her great-grandsons, and it was also very clear that they considered her their great-grandmother. They radiated love for her, and she felt it. Kyle and his minions put together another great buffet for us after the funeral. I don't know where the food came from or when they had had time to buy it, if, in fact, they had. Who knew. After we ate, I said, "Rick, we need to talk." "Okay. Right now?" "Yeah," I said. "You grab Kevin, and I'm going to grab John." "Okay," he said. "Rick, what have you done," I asked. "What do you mean," he asked. "These kids, and all these friends," I said. "What's going on?" "Kevin and I are living our lives," Rick said. "What's wrong with that?" There was a slight edge to his voice, like he thought I was criticizing him or something. Nothing could have been farther from my mind. "What's wrong with that? Nothing is wrong with that. Everything is right with that," I said. "We're a happy family, you know?" "I can see that," I said. "And I'm happy for you." "We've made a commitment to our kids and to one another." That stung a little, but I ignored it. I didn't think he had meant that as implied criticism of me. "You know, Andy, I don't really know you. I don't resent that or feel angry about it. Really. I actually like you, and I like John. But we don't know one another." "I know," I said. It saddened me, all of a sudden, but he was right. Although I was making an effort, I really didn't even know the names of all the boys yet. "Can we be friends," I asked. "Of course we can be," he said. "We want to be your friend." Friend, but not father, I thought. How could it be any other way? "We're thinking we'll spend a couple of days in Emerald Beach, if that's all right," John said. Bless his heart. He was trying to help out with what had turned into a difficult conversation. "That would be great. Kevin told me he thought y'all would do that," Rick said. The enthusiasm in his voice seemed genuine. "You can drive home with us and change your plane ticket when you get there," he said. "Or are you going to spend some time here first?" "I think we'll stay here until the weekend. We can rent a car and drive to Emerald Beach," I said. "How about if we get there on Saturday? Would that work for you guys?" "That'll be great, Andy," Kevin said. "We have pretty much an open-house all weekend long, and you'll be able to meet some more of our friends." More, I thought. My God!
Once Andy and John got there, Rick and I moved to the more comfortable accommodations of his house. There was a new queen size bed in his old room, a fact we hadn't discovered on the last trip because we had stayed at the hotel with the kids. The night of the funeral day, Rick and I lay in bed holding one another, talking. "Are you really okay with Andy and John paying us a visit," I said. "Sure," he said. "Why? Do I not seem like I am?" "No, you seem fine with it, but I know you too well, Babe," I said. He chuckled. "You said you don't resent not knowing him, but you really do, don't you?" He shrugged. "It's okay to feel that way, Babe," I said. "I feel guilty for feeling resentment," he said. He hadn't had to tell me that because I already knew that's what was going on. "You didn't do anything to cause it, you know?" "I know, but I still feel like I ought to love him, and I don't," he said. "How could you love him? I mean, do you think he loves you?" "Good point. I hadn't really thought about that, but he's probably feeling guilty about that, too. He can't possibly love me the way my grandfather did," he said. "Have you talked to your mother about this," I asked. "A little, but it's been a long time. Even when I was a kid, though, I was afraid to ask her if he loved me," he said. "You suspected it then," I asked. "Well, yeah. I mean, he said he loved me, and I suppose on some level he really does. Just like I love him on some level, too. But I don't even begin to feel toward him the way I feel toward Mom and my grandparents," he said. "Well, let's give him a chance," I said. "And, of course, you're forgetting the 'kid factor.'" "What do you mean," he asked. "Remember at Christmas? With Arnie and the kids?" He chuckled. "How could I not remember that," he said. "Let's let Kyle and Justin have a go at him and see what happens," I said. We kissed and went to sleep. |