The school year started with a bang for all the boys. Justin made what amounted to his classroom debut when he started college, and he seemed to like it. "Kevin, would you talk to me about what I should be doing during class," he asked me on the Sunday night before the second week of classes. "Of course, Jus. What do you mean, Bubba," I asked. "When I look around, I see people writing in their notebooks. I don't know what they're writing, or why," he said. "They're taking notes. Later on, when it's time to study for a test, those notes will come in handy," I said. "See, that's the thing. I don't know anything about that," he said. "Taking good notes is important. What you basically end up with is an outline of what the professor said. Sometimes, if he's going fast and you can't keep up, you can go back afterwards and write in information you remember but didn't have time to write down. Are you allowed to tape lectures?" "I guess. I've seen a couple of people with tape recorders in there," he said. "Then it must be okay. Here's what I want you to do. I want you to tape your next class. When is it?" "Tomorrow morning. Do you have a tape recorder I can use, because I don't have one," he said. "Oh, yeah. Rick and I each have one, and you can use mine or his. His is actually better than mine, so use his. Tomorrow night, you and I are going to sit down together and listen to that tape. I'm going to teach you how to take notes. We'll do that three or four times, or however many times it takes for you to catch on, okay?" "Kevin, that's nice of you, man," he said. "It's not nice of me. It's what a father does for his son, if he needs it. You are my son, you know?" "I love hearing you say that, Kev," he said, smiling happily. "I'm wondering if some of the others might not need the same thing," I said. I took very detailed notes in school and in the meetings I had to attend for work, and I was pretty sure I could teach Jus, and anybody else who might be interested, how to do it. I told the others about my plan for Justin and invited them to sit in, too. "Hell, I've been needing this all my life," Kyle said. "The only notes I ever write in class are the ones I pass to other people." We all laughed. "Do you fold them up into those tight little squares before you pass them," Rick asked. "Absolutely," he said. "I've been known to flick one of those over four rows of desks and have it land right on the desk of the person who was supposed to get it." Everybody laughed hard at that. I could just picture his hyperactive ass in a classroom, trying to find something to amuse himself. Kyle had incredible powers of concentration if something interested him, like planning a party or a trip, but if it didn't interest him, no way was he going to pay attention. At least not without enormous effort on his part. "I want to do it," Tim said. "I think I take pretty good notes in class, but I want to get better." "Me, too," Brian said. "I need that badly," Alex said. "Can Cody come over for it, too?" "Sure," I said. "We'll get around the dining room table and practice taking notes." "I'll do the snacks," Kyle said, in that deep voice of his. "What about you, Denny," I asked. "I'll be there. Can Chip come, too?" "Yeah, Chip can come, too," I said. "But let's limit it to that, okay?" * * * The next night everybody gathered around our dining room table. It was a cute group, and they all had notebooks and pens, ready to learn. Gene was a member of the School Advisory Council for Beachside, and he had roped me into getting on it, too. I had only attended one meeting thus far, but I thought I might mention what was going on that night at our next meeting. Obviously, Beachside wasn't responsible for Justin or Alex, but they were responsible for the rest of them. Why didn't they do this kind of thing in school? Or maybe they did, and those guys let it go over their heads. We played the tape Justin had made that morning in his history class. We stopped the tape periodically for me to point out an important fact that they should have written down. I also told them how I would have written it. It took us two hours to get through the fifty-minute class Jus had taped, but I could see mental light bulbs blinking on around the table as they began to catch on to what we were doing. Tim and Brian were the first two to get it, but the others weren't far behind. "One more session like this on Wednesday night," I said, "and I think y'all will be all set. We'll see, though." Rick sat in there with us, and I was a little surprised at the good pointers he gave. I didn't think of Rick as the intellectual type, but he had been a very, very good student in college. I had to remind myself not to sell my husband short. "Kevin, this was great, man. Now I understand taking notes," Jus said when we finished. "Thank you so much." They all said "thanks," in one form or another. "This is a basic skill, guys, and you need to learn it now," I said. I have to admit, I did some research for that "class." I did a Google search for note taking, and it turned up a bunch of links. I taught them the Cornell Method of note taking. As best I could tell, there were no disadvantages to that system. And it really was just that. A system. It was a study method, too. I wasn't worried about any of them but Justin, and I was going to do everything I could to help him get through college. Any kid with as much pluck and determination as he had deserved all the help he could get. Besides, he was my son, and I loved him.
I started looking at college a whole lot different after Kevin taught us how to take notes, and how to study, too. I guess people pick that up in high school, but the ones in our house hadn't done it. Brian and Tim were just as excited about all of that as I was, and they were damn straight-A students. After the second night, I felt like I could take notes with the best of them, and I also had a method for how to study for tests. My English teacher liked the story I wrote the first night. She wrote a lot of stuff on my paper, shit like, "Well said!," "Good image!," and "Great conclusion!" She used a lot of !'s, and I needed to find out what that meant. I think that's called an explanation point, or something like that, and she must like 'em. I was going to have to use a lot of those, but only after I found out for sure what it meant. Everything was going really good for me, and then I got a fucking subpoena. Buel Jackson was going on trial in Alabama for first degree murder, and I was being called as a witness for the prosecution. "Kevin, I don't get it, man. I thought I had my trial already because of him when I met with those people in your office that time," I said. "No, that wasn't a trial. You gave a deposition, Bubba. They used that with the Grand Jury to seek an indictment for first degree murder. They got it, and now he's going to be on trial." "Why does this shit keep coming up, man? Why can't I just walk away from it?" "It's not that simple, Bubba. He has a right to a fair trial, and both sides can call witnesses. You're going to be a witness to help put his ass in jail for that murder. Maybe even put him on Death Row. The prosecution is going for the death penalty, and that's a pretty damn big thing. If he hadn't killed a cop, they probably would be going for life in prison. But the man he killed was a police officer." "Kevin, all that stuff about me and my past is going to come up. Only this time it's going to be in court, not in your office. I don't think I can do it, Kevin." I weighed my options, and I didn't have any. I could run away, disappear and move to another state where nobody knew me. But if I did that, I'd lose Brian and my family. I had some money in the bank from what I had been given and from what I had earned, but eventually I'd have to get a job. Then they'd be able to track me and locate me. It didn't look good that I would be able to get out of testifying. "Rick and I will be there with you, Justin. You know that," he said. "I'm going to need the others, too. Brian, Kyle, and Tim," I said. "Can they come, too?" "Absolutely, Bubba. They'll be there. Our whole family will be there, and a lot of our friends, too," I said. "Not anybody else, okay? I'm going to have to say stuff, probably, that's going to be real embarrassing to me. I don't want all my people knowing about that. Please don't do that," I said. "Would you have a problem if Craig and Cherie were there? They might be able to help." "No, I want them there," I said. "But that's all, okay?" "Justin, you have a family now, man, and your family will be there with you, at least in spirit. You won't face this alone, and you'll never face anything alone, for the rest of your life. Rick and I will never give up on you, Bubba, no matter what. And the rest of the family won't, either. You're in this thing for life, like it or not." I busted up crying when he said that. I loved them so much I couldn't even say how much. "But what I did was so bad, Kevin. It was just so awful," I said. "What he made you do was bad. All you did was survive, son. That's all. You had to stay alive so you could come to us. That's all you ever did, Jus." "I know, but sometimes I enjoyed it, Kevin. Don't you understand? I liked it, sometimes." "I know, Jus. We've been through this before. Sex feels good, whether you want it to or not. It's an automatic physical response. You don't have any control over that. Please don't feel guilty about that. It was out of your control," Kevin said. "I just hope those people I'm going to have to say it in front of feel that way, but I bet they won't," I said. * * * I had two weeks to sweat out before I was supposed to testify. They told me it would only take a day, two days at the most, but that might as well be two years. It was on my mind day and night, and I started having trouble sleeping. I got moody, too, and I knew that wasn't fair to Brian and the others. "I talked to my brother again today about the trial, and he and Cherie are coming here this weekend to work with you on your testimony," Kevin said near the end of the two weeks. "What do you mean," I asked. "It's going to be like a rehearsal," he said. "Craig said lawyers do that with clients all the time to get them to feel comfortable with the trial environment and especially with the questions they're likely to ask you." "How do they know what questions they're going to ask me," I asked. "They don't know the exact questions, but they know the kinds of questions they'll ask," he said. "They'll be able to tell you how much you have to say and what you don't have to say." "Why are they doing this," I asked. "They're doing it because they love you, Justin. Get that through your thick skull. You are not in this alone. You have a family, and this family happens to have resources a lot of families don't have. Let's use 'em, Bubba," Kevin said. * * * They got here on Friday afternoon. The last time they had been to Emerald Beach was for my birthday party, and that was a happy time. This time nobody was in a party mood, not even Kyle. He made a real nice dinner for us that night, though, and afterwards we talked about what was going to happen that weekend. "Justin, we're going to interview you. We're not going to coach you or tell you what to say, okay? We can't do that. I'm going to act as the prosecutor and Cherie's going to be the defense attorney, okay," Craig said. "I called the prosecutor and spoke with him for almost two hours. We're actually doing his job for him by working with you, but he said their funding won't allow them to do this kind of witness work out of state." "Okay," I said. I wasn't real clear on just what that meant, though. "That means you work for me, so to speak. I called you, as the prosecutor, and you're on the side of the state of Alabama in this trial. Remember, it's the state against Jackson. It's not you against him or even the murdered policeman against him. It's the state," Craig said. "Here's what we think is going to happen with you, Jus," Cherie said. "You're going to testify that Jackson told you he killed the cop and that he made you bathe the blood off him, right?" "Right," I said. "We think the defense is going to try to discredit you by showing that you have a grudge against Jackson because of the things he did to you and made you do," she said. "I don't get it," I said. "Remember what the defense is trying to do. The jury has to be convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that he's guilty in order to convict him. They're going to try to use you to try to raise that shadow of a doubt. You and others, too, probably. They want the jury to think that you may be lying, or just exaggerating even, because you have so much to hold against Jackson," she said. "Do you see what I mean?" "Yes," I said quietly. It was coming clear to me. I was going to have to answer questions about all the stuff he did to me and made me do to make the case that I had reason to hate him. It was going to be bad. "Now, baby, one thing Craig and I want you to understand is we're here because we love you and we're on your side," Cherie said. "I'm going to have to ask you some very hard questions, but we want you to know what to expect, okay? I don't give a fuck what you did before you came here, and neither does Craig or anybody else here. You're our brother, and that's all that matters to us. So if it seems like I'm being mean, remember I'm just doing it so you'll know what might be coming. We'll help you figure out how to answer the questions with the greatest amount of dignity and without withholding the truth." "I don't think I deserve having to testify," I said. "Of course you don't deserve that," Cherie said. "Nobody but Jackson does, baby, but, unfortunately, it's something you have to deal with. We're going to help make it as easy to deal with as possible." "What about stuff I did that was illegal," I asked. "Like what," Craig asked. "Drugs. I used them, and I sold them, too," I said. "Yes, but that was in the context of slavery, remember? You don't have anything to worry about in that regard, Jus," Cherie said. "Did you ever sell drugs on your own," Craig asked. "I mean apart from what Jackson made you do?" "No. Never," I said. "If I didn't do it, he would have beaten the shit out of me." "Exactly, Jus. That was the point I was making. You did it to survive. We already have proof that you were physically brutalized. A lot of proof. And remember, you're not the one on trial. Jackson is," Cherie said. "That isn't what it feels like," I said. "I know, baby," she said. "Be strong." "You have to take the stand first thing Monday morning, right," Craig asked. "Right. We're driving to Birmingham on Sunday," Kevin said. "When are we going to get started preparing," I asked. "Let's wait until tomorrow morning," Cherie said. "Jus, I can't emphasize this too much. We're here to help you, not to hurt you. We love you, Bubba." I knew she was telling the truth. Those were good people, and I trusted them. Brian, Kyle, and Tim came into the den right about then, and Kyle asked if anybody wanted a drink. "I never say no to a drink," Craig said. "Coke or Diet Coke," Kyle asked, just to tease him. "Very funny," Craig said, grinning at Kyle. "You know what I want." "The usual for everybody," Kyle asked. We all said "yeah," and Kyle got Rick to go out to the kitchen to help him. "Tell us about school, guys," Cherie said. They all told funny stories about things that had happened at school, and gradually I started to relax. Alex was out with Cody, and Denny was spending the night with Chip. Those two were getting to be good friends, and I was glad. It was only, like, three weeks into the school year, and I thought I could tell that Chip had grown some. We had had a pool party the weekend before for Labor Day, and it looked to me like ole Chip was starting to get a little fuzzy down below. I hoped so, anyhow. What started out to be hell got pretty good as the night moved on. Cherie and Craig were fun to be around. I was a lot more quiet than I usually am, but I laughed and joked some with them. It wasn't easy having to do what we were doing about the trial and all, but I couldn't imagine what it would be like without them. * * * We started working the next day around nine. I won't say it was fun because it wasn't. Craig treated me pretty friendly, but Cherie wasn't friendly one damn bit. She told me ahead of time that was the way it was going to be, and I'm sure glad she said that. It would have hurt my feelings if she had acted that way without that heads-up. We took a "recess" for lunch around noon. "How's it going, Buddy," Brian asked. He was trying to be extra sweet to me, and I appreciated that. They all were, though, really. Before I could answer, Cherie said, "Your guy's a champion, Bri. You should be extremely proud of him." That made me feel good, and it made Brian smile big. "I appreciate what you're doing, Cherie. If I was hit with some of those questions cold in a court room, I'd be paralyzed," I said. "You're doing extremely well, Jus. Have you ever thought about becoming a lawyer," she asked. I didn't say anything. "I'm serious, Jus. You think like a lawyer, and that's going to make the defense counsel's job much harder. By the time we finish with you, you're going to be able to try that case just as well as the district attorney can," she said. "Cherie's right, Justin. If I were the prosecutor, I'd want you on my side, that's for sure," Craig said. "It sounds like this whole practice thing is worthwhile," Rick said. "Craig and Cherie, how do y'all know so much about what happened," I asked. "I called the DA the day I first talked to Kevin about this, and he sent me all of the important depositions and other documents he's using. Cherie and I have been preparing for this for two weeks," Craig said. "You have," I asked. "Yeah. It's been fun, too," Craig said. "We don't ever do any criminal work, but we both like it. This has turned into our hobby, sort of." "Well, you both seem real good at it," I said. "Thanks," they both replied. * * * The afternoon went about like the morning had, only I felt more relaxed and less worried and nervous about what was going on, especially after Doc brought me some medicine. We had pretty much covered everything in the morning, and that afternoon we just more or less went back over it. There were two or three points that they wanted to dig into a little, but that was it. By the time we finished, I didn't feel good about having to testify, but I sure felt better about it than I had. I knew Cherie had been hard on me, but I was glad she had been. I was ten times more ready, and ten times less scared, than I had been when we started. We all went to Mass together, and then we all went out to eat, just like we usually did. Kyle wanted to go to a movie, so the four of us took off right from the restaurant. Craig and Cherie were going to stay at our house and drive to Birmingham with us on Sunday.
"I'm really pleased with what we accomplished with Jus," Cherie said, once we were home in our den with drinks Rick had made. "I'm so glad," I said. "I talked briefly with Justin, and he said he felt much better about everything. I really owe you big time on this one, big brother and big sister. There's no way we could ever repay you for what you've done." "Well, er, actually there might be," Craig said. "How much," I asked. I didn't think they intended to charge us for their services, but you never know for sure. "Oh, don't be silly. We're not talking about money, Kev, and if you say 'no' to what we're going to ask you, we'll understand," Cherie said. "What is it," I asked. "You know about our infertility problem, of course," Craig began. "Yeah. Any new developments there," I asked. "No, unfortunately. We've looked into adoption, but it's going to be years before we move to the head of any list that will provide the kind of child we're interested in," he said. "We've looked into artificial insemination, and I'm a very good candidate for that," Cherie said. "Are you okay with that," I asked Craig. "Yeah, I'm very cool with that. We got to thinking, Why rely on some random stranger to donate sperm? Why not see if some close relative would be willing to do it?" "Somebody like your brother," Rick asked. "Exactly," Craig said. I was weak. I had never expected that in a million years. "Let's hear more," I said. "It's pretty simple, actually. All you would have to do is jerk off into a beaker, and the doctor would take care of the rest," Craig said. "Isn't there a more clinical way to put that," Cherie asked her husband. We all laughed. "Seriously, Kev. That would be it for you, man. The procedure with Cherie would take place in New Orleans, of course, but you could actually donate the sperm here," Craig said. "Craig, you know I'll do anything I can for you, Bubba, but . . . " "But how will I feel about it?" "Yeah, exactly. And Mom and Dad? And you, Rick?" "We've thought about this a lot, Kev, and Cherie and I, and Mom and Dad, all think it's a wonderful idea," Craig said. "I mean, genetically I'm closer to you than to anybody on earth. We look quite a bit alike, so the odds are really good that the baby will favor me, if he or she favors you. Or it could favor Cherie, of course. Either way it's a win-win situation, don't you think?" "How do you feel about it, Babe," I asked Rick. "Kevin, I actually thought about it when I first heard about the infertility problem," he said. "I've had a few months to mull it over, not knowing, of course, if they'd even ask. I think you owe this to your brother." "God, this is pretty exciting," I said. "What if it turns out Cherie is as allergic to me as she is to you?" "That's a possibility, but apparently it's very unlikely," Craig said. "They'd test your semen first, of course, but evidently there isn't much chance of that happening. Even if we were identical twins the odds would be against it. Just slightly, but the odds would still favor artificial insemination." "Are there any legal implications," I asked. "Not really. You would have to sign a waiver of parental rights, just like you would if you donated to a sperm bank, but that's really all there is to it," he said. "And, of course, we'd insist that you both be the baby's Godfathers and that you agree to raise him or her in the event of our deaths. But we'd insist on that even if we adopted." "I've heard of people doing this at home, using a turkey basting tube or something," I said. "Isn't that how the woman got pregnant on Queer as Folk?" "Yeah," Cherie said, "but that's only for intra-cervical insemination. These days they do intra-uterine insemination, and for that the sperm has to be washed." "Washed," I asked. "Yeah. Semen consists of live sperm, dead sperm, and junk, debris, as it were. They 'wash' the sperm by using a centrifuge to separate out the freshest, most lively sperm from all the other stuff. Then they just inject the very best sperm directly into the uterus. There's a much higher chance of success with that method," Cherie said. "It sounds like you've done your homework about all of this," Rick said. "Oh, yeah," she said. "They may have to do it several times before I get pregnant. On the other hand, it could happen the very first time." "I'll do it," I said. "And guys, I don't think there is anything in this world you could do that would be a bigger honor." "Thank you, Kevin. Thank you so much." She hugged me and kissed me, and Craig did the same. "We're going to keep quiet about this," Cherie said. "Oh, and we will, too," I said. Rick indicated he would, as well. "When do we do it," I asked. "We'll have to find a lab here that is capable of processing your sperm. You'll provide the sample, they'll freeze it, and they'll send it to my doctor in New Orleans," Cherie said. "Chances are it will be a veterinary lab, or even a veterinarian who does it. They know about such things because it's so common among animals." "Trixie has an appointment with the vet next week," Rick said. "We'll both take her." "I can take her, Babe," I said. "We both don't have to go." "Not on your life, Babe. I may not be able to participate in this the way you and Cherie will, but I damn sure know how to get you to produce the sample you need," Rick said. All of us laughed hysterically.
I never let him see me cry, but I cried a lot over that business of Justin having to testify in that trial. He is such a good boy, so kind and so ready to make us have fun. I just hated what thinking about that trial was doing to him. "Tim, I don't know what's wrong with Justin and me," I said one day. "There's nothing wrong with the two of you," Tim said. "It's that trial, Bri. Justin still loves you. You know that." "I do know that, but he's been real moody and real angry lately. This morning he snapped at me, and then two minutes later he was crying, saying he was sorry. Tim, that's not him," I said. "No, it's not him. You know that, and all of us know that. He's under a lot of stress right now. He thinks he's going to be on trial when he has to testify, and it's tearing him up. It's obvious Justin loves you, Bri. You just have to put up with this for a few days. He'll be his old self again real soon." Tim was the closest friend I'd ever had in my whole life, and I knew that what he was saying was true. But it really hurts bad when somebody you love is having a hard time like Justin was having and you can't do anything about it. The main thing that worried me was his lack of interest in sex. Justin was the one who usually started sex, and he just didn't do that during those two weeks before the trial. One night about halfway through that time, I decided to take the lead, thinking that's what he wanted me to do. We were in bed that night, and I put my hand on his chest. That's what he always did to get us started. Then I kissed him. He kissed me back, and we got into kissing pretty heavy. I was as hard as I always was, and he got hard, too. He gave me some oral love, which was something he usually did, and I expected him to stop so we could move on to other things, as we usually did. He didn't, though, and he brought me off that way. Then I wanted to do the same to him, but his erection was gone. "Did you come," I asked him. That happened every once in a while. "No. It just went soft," he said. "Let me help you out," I said, and I took his penis into my mouth. He always says I give good head, and I tried even harder than usual to please him. I kept doing it for a long time, but he never got hard. "I don't think it wants to cooperate, Little Buddy," he finally said. "I'm trying my best, Jus," I said. I felt like a failure. "I know you are, Brian. It's me, not you, baby," he said. "Let me hold you." He took me in his arms and held me softly and gently. I got hard again, but I didn't say or do anything about it. After that, we didn't try anything until nighttime of the day Craig and Cherie worked with him about the trial. That night we went to a movie after church, and, when we got home, my man was ready. I'm not going to say we made up that night for all the days we had missed, but we came close. "Brian, I know I've been hard to live with these last two weeks, but that's over now. Thank you for putting up with me. I love you so much, and I feel ashamed about the way I treated you," he said. "Don't feel ashamed. I knew you were stressed and depressed. I'm going to be here during times like that, just like I'm going to be here when everything is going great," I said. "I love you, Justin." He started crying softly. That was another thing he did a lot of during those two weeks, but that night the crying was different. He wasn't sad; he was just emotional. "I love you, too, Brian. Thank you for loving me," he said. That melted my heart, and we cried ourselves to sleep. Happy tears, though, for a change.
God, Almighty! When my brother Justin Davis got that notice he had to go to court in Alabama, he just about freaked out. We went through two weeks of hell with him. Most of the time he was okay, but then he would say something really mean to me or Brian, and it hurt. And then he would cry his eyes out apologizing for what he had said. He picked on petty shit, too. One time he got onto Brian for looking at him in the shower. Jesus Christ! They had been lovers for almost a year, and Justin got mad because Brian looked at him naked!? I could tell Brian was confused by that. Hell, we all were. Then Craig and Cherie came and spent a whole day with him at the dining room table. When they came out for lunch, I could tell right away that things were better, but he was far from normal. I called him outside after we had finished eating. He lit up a smoke and gave me one, too. "You feeling better," I asked. He busted up crying when I asked him that. He was pure sobbing. "What's the matter, Jus? Man, I don't understand this," I said. "I know. I don't, either. I'm so sorry, Kyle," he said. I put my arm around his shoulder. I knew he needed something, but I didn't know what it was. Jesus, help me out here, please, I thought. It was kind of like a prayer because I really did need help. "I know I've acted shitty since I found out about the trial, and I'm sorry," he said. "Are you feeling better about it now? You seem to be," I said. "I'm feeling a little better. Kyle, I don't know what I would do without all of you," he said. "Y'all just keep saving my ass, time after time, don't you?" "We're just all suckers for a cute ass that needs saving, is all," I said. He laughed a little for the first time in two weeks, I think. "You really do love me, don't you? All of you, I mean," he said. "Yes, we do, Bubba. We really do love you," I said. And we really do hate the motherfucker who's making you have to go through all of this, I thought. He started crying all over again. Suddenly it dawned on me what the fuck was going on with him. He was acting just like Jeff had acted at Thanksgiving and Christmas because of Clay. Justin had the same kind of depression Jeff had had, and he needed some of those pills Grandma Foley had given Jeff. "I need to go make a phone call," I said. "I'll be right back." "I need to get back in there with Craig and Cherie, too," he said. "Thank you for saving me, Kyle." The waterworks got worse. "Go on in the clubhouse and wash your face. I'm on your case, Bubba," I said. I went up to our room, and I called Grandma. "Grandma, this is Kyle," I said, after she answered the phone. "Kyle! What a wonderful surprise! How are you, baby?" "I'm fine, Grandma, but Justin isn't. I think he's got the same damn thing that Jeff had," I said. "What are you talking about, baby," she asked. That voice switched quick from sugar and pie to "I'm a doctor, and you tell me right now what's going on." "You know about the big trial, don't you?" "Of course, son. Is Justin depressed? Is he crying all the time? Unusually irritable? Problems with sleep? Listless?" "All of the above, Grandma. And bad anger, too." "Jesus, Kyle! Of course! He's depressed and anxious. He has every reason to be. I should have predicted it and done something about it," she said. "What's George Murphy's number?" I rattled it off for her. "Why do you want to talk to Doc," I asked. "Because he is a doc, that's why. And he has a prescription pad. I can't call in a prescription to a pharmacy in Florida, but he can, Kyle. Let's get off the phone now so I can call George," she said. "Are you and Doc going to be able to help Jus," I asked. "You bet your sweet little ass we are," she said. I laughed, and she laughed, too. "Say goodbye, and hang up now, Kyle. And thanks for being so observant. I'm going to chew out my thick-headed sons about this, but not until after we get my precious Justin taken care of. Goodbye, Kyle. And thanks." "'Bye, Grandma," I said, and we hung up. I went back downstairs. I was still working on pictures from Montana, so that's what I did. In about thirty minutes, Doc was at the house with two bottles of pills. He rang the doorbell, and Trixie made a racket. Brian was working hard with her to make her stop doing that every time the doorbell rang. He had finally gotten her under control for when the phone rang, but nobody used the doorbell all that much, so it was taking longer. "Hi, George," Kevin said, when he answered the door. "Hi, Kev. I see I stirred Trixie up," Doc said. "Yeah. Why didn't you just come right in without ringing the bell?" "Kevin, it's a lifetime habit I can't break, it seems. I just got off the phone with your mother, and I'm here to deliver medication for Justin. Beth and I had a medical consult over the phone," he said. The door to the study was open, and I heard every word they said. I went out into the den. "Hi, Doc," I said. "Hi, Kyle. Thanks for calling Beth," he said. He actually kissed me on the forehead. How cool was that!? "Did you bring Justin some happy pills," I asked. "Yes. Samples, but they're just as good as you could get in a drug store. Where is he," Doc asked. "They're working in the dining room," Kevin said. "Let me go get him." Kevin disappeared for a second and came back with Justin, Craig, and Cherie. They all did the big "hello" routine with Doc. "Jus, I've brought you some medication that will help you get through all of this," Doc said. "Beth Foley called me because Kyle called her. We talked for a while, and we both agreed you need to take it." "Medicine? I'm not sick, Doc, and I damn sure don't have a tooth ache," Jus said. "I know you don't have a tooth ache, Jus. This is the same stuff Jeff took for depression and anxiety last Christmas. It will help," he said. Doc told Jus how many pills to take and how often to take them, and I was Johnny-on-the-spot with a glass of water for him to take them with. He took the medicine without asking any more questions. "Thanks, Doc," Jus said. "Yes, thank you, George," Cherie said. "Why didn't we think of that," she asked Craig. Craig just shrugged. "Well, this isn't really a social call, and I need to get going. Justin, take those pills the way I said to take them, you hear? We love you, son, and we don't want you to hurt," Doc said. "Yes, sir. Thank you," Jus said. "Thank Kyle, not me," Doc said. "Thanks, Bubba," he said. "You're a sucker for a crybaby, ain't you?" "Kevin always says this family has resources other families don't have. I believe in using them," I said. "Is that your motto, Bubba," he asked, grinning big at me. "Yeah, that's my motto." |