---

Justin's Perspective

The trip to Birmingham started out kind of rough, but by the end, we were having fun. It turned out my time on the witness stand wasn't nearly as bad as I had thought it was going to be. I had to admit in front of all those people that I had had sex with those guys that Buel had set me up with, but they didn't dig around in that anywhere close to what I thought they would do. "Objection" has got to be one of the best words in the English language, and I kept hearing it over and over in my mind.

"We're coming back here," Kyle said.

"I don't know, Kyle," I said.

"Sure we are. Don't you want to see NASCAR racing at Talladega? I do. I've never been to a race, but I've watched them on TV lots of times. I think that would be great," he said.

"Maybe," I said.

"Come on, Bubba. Get with it, man. This can be our second town," he said.

"I thought New Orleans was our second town," I said.

"Oh, yeah. Our third town, then. I love this place," he said. "And don't forget the marathon. I'm kind of excited about that."

The thing about Kyle that made you have to love him was how excited he got about everything. Now and then he got on my nerves with that, but mostly he just made things fun. In fact, having fun was Kyle's life. He wasn't a slacker when it came to hard work, either at the hotel or at home or anywhere, but he just took such pleasure in everything he did. The bottom line was he was a happy person, and he made other people happy just being around him. That was a pure gift he had, and he shared it with everybody.

For instance, he was studying to become a Catholic. That was something I wanted to do eventually, too, but you would have thought it was the highlight of his damn week. He'd come home after his class on Thursday night just brimming over with stuff to talk about. One week, though, he got on my nerves a little bit about it.

"I'm learning I have to amend my life," he said.

"What does that mean," I asked.

"That means I have to change, Jus, especially where the poor and marginalized are concerned," he said.

I didn't know what "marginalized" meant, but I wasn't going to ask him that.

"Kyle, I think you and your parents do a great deal for the poor and the marginalized," Kevin said.

"Yeah? Like what?" He said that like he was challenging Kevin to prove it.

"Well, the Goodson Family Foundation, for one thing. There are a lot of poor people benefiting from Goodson money. And the fact that your dad pays a good wage, with free insurance benefits for everyone, for another. Did you even know domestic partners of employees, gay or straight, get insurance benefits the same as spouses do?"

"No, I didn't know that. But it's mainly an attitude thing, Kevin. I've got to get my attitude right."

"Kyle, what did you do with the money you got from United Cerebral Palsy for those pictures of Chris you took," Kevin asked.

"You know what I did with it. Why bring that up? I'm not talking about this anymore," he said.

"See, that's the thing with you, Kyle," I said. I was warming up because I had been wanting to say what I was going to say for a long time. "You don't know how to accept a compliment. You cook a fabulous dinner, and then you try to find ways it wasn't all that good when people tell you how much they enjoyed it. You put on a great party, work your ass off doing it, and when people tell you how great a time they had, you go off about the damn mosquitoes being bad, or something like that. Mosquitoes ain't your fault, and most of the time it ain't true, either. You save somebody's life--and goddamn it, Kyle, I've got a list of names, and mine's right at the top of it--and you act like you didn't have anything to do with it. Your problem is you don't know how to let people be grateful to you. That's the only attitude you need to change, Bubba. That's it. That's all I'm saying."

There was dead silence in that room.

"Are you finished yelling at me," Kyle asked.

"That's all I'm saying, Kyle," I said.

"I need to get home. I'll see y'all tomorrow," he said.

He got up and left, not even taking Tim with him. I never expected he would leave. I panicked. I jumped up to go after him.

"Justin, sit down," Rick said.

"Rick, I hurt him bad, man, and I didn't mean to. I need to make it up to him," I said. "I love that guy. The last thing I want to do is hurt his feelings."

"You didn't hurt his feelings, Jus, and what you said was right on the money. Kyle's an extraordinary guy, and he holds this family together probably more than Kevin and I do. What you said was true, Son. He needs time to think about what you said and to process it," Rick said.

"Tim, how do you feel," I asked.

"I didn't get up and go with him, did I? Jus, Kyle has more character than anybody I've ever known. He knows that what you said is absolutely true. I think it's a deep cultural thing. His dad is the same way. Have you noticed how Kyle pretends to be dumb? His dad is like that, too, but both of those guys are much smarter than just about anybody I know. Kyle and his dad would no more admit that than they would sprout wings and fly. He does what he does because to admit he helped somebody or gave a good party or something like that would be to admit he isn't at the bottom of the barrel. And if he admits he isn't at the bottom of the barrel, that means he's better than somebody. Kyle and his dad won't have that, Jus. It's strange as hell to me, but that's the way it's done around here," Tim said.

"His brother was exactly the same way, Jus," Jeff said.

Everybody was there, including Jeff and Tyler.

"I think I have a little bit of that in me, too. Maybe it's just the South," I said.

"Rick and I are Southerners, too, Jus, and we don't feel that way," Kevin said.

"I don't know," I said. "But you really don't think I hurt his feelings?"

"I think he was surprised, Jus, but I really don't think you hurt his feelings," Rick said.

"Well, this turned into a shitty evening, didn't it," I said.

"Not really, Bubba. This turned into an evening when this family helped a very important member grow," Kevin said.

We just sat there for a long time, nobody talking. A real long time.

Then we heard somebody coming in the back door, and that could only be Kyle. He came into the den with four big paper sacks from Sonic.

"I was passing Sonic on the way home, and I needed a footlong. Since Tim was still here, I decided to pick up a few," he said.

"You never quit, do you," I said. "You live in the next block, and Sonic is at least two miles away."

"I know. I take care of my peeps," he said. "And you take care of yours, too," he said, grinning his ass off at me.

"What the hell are you talking about, Kyle?"

"Shut up. You know what I'm talking about. Taking care of me," he said.

"Yeah, I do. Eat your weenie," I said.

He laughed.

Those hotdogs were mighty good, covered with chili and cheese. He had bought fries, too, and I think he ordered them "extra greasy." They were good, though. That was our queer little family. I was so happy, I could bust.

Kyle's Perspective

Things were mixed at school. I mean, I was doing good in my classes, such as they were. I was taking notes to beat the band in economics after Kevin taught me how to do it, but my other three classes were bullshit. I mean, I enjoyed them and all, but there was no homework in three of the four, and nothing intellectual, either. I had econ homework about twice a week, and it was usually pretty easy. I had to ask Kevin and Rick to explain concepts to me a time or two, but usually I understood them on my own. I was taking good notes, thanks to Kevin, and I could easily pull a 4.0 for the semester. I didn't know what I would do about my parents when they keeled over dead when they looked at my report card, but I would have to take my chances.

What wasn't going good was Denny and Chip. They had become really good friends in a few weeks, and they really liked each other. Chip didn't know if he was gay or straight or queer or whatever, but it didn't matter.

"Kyle, I hate school," Chip said to me one afternoon when he and I were the only two working out in the gym at Kevin and Rick's house.

"What's going on," I asked.

"Some guys have been picking on me, Kyle. And they've been picking on Denny, too," he said.

"Picking on you for what," I asked.

"I don't know. They call me shrimp and flea, and they push me and hit me in the hall. They do the same to Denny. They make me miserable at school," he said.

"What are their names," I asked.

"Brad and Stanley. The same two guys from middle school," he said.

"Stanley? What the fuck kind of name is that?"

"I don't know. If you call him Stan, he says, no, my name is Stanley," Chip said.

"Do his parents clean carpets for a living," I asked.

"Stanley Steamer? Tough on dirt, gentle on carpet," he said, saying their commercial.

"Yeah, that's what I was thinking. Jesus, who names their kid Stanley?"

"I don't know, but he's mean, Kyle. He's mean to me, and he's mean to Denny. And we're never mean to them," Chip said.

"Do they take the bus to school," I asked.

"I guess they do. I don't really know," he said.

"Chip, you know you're my brother, right?"

"Yeah, I hope so," he said.

"Well, you are, Bubba, and nobody fucks with my brother. I want you to point them out to me tomorrow," I said.

"I don't want you to get in trouble, Kyle," he said.

"I'm not going to get in trouble. I'm not going to touch either one of them," I said. "I'm just going to talk to them."

"But you're going to help them understand?"

"I'm going to help them understand that if they keep up the hateful stuff, they are fucked," I said. "If they've got any sense at all, they will listen to me."

The next morning Tim, Brian, Denny, and I picked Chip up for school, like we usually did. I got him to hang back with me when we got there, and he and I walked over to the bus loading zone. I don't know why they called it the "bus loading" zone because the buses unloaded as much as they loaded, but that's what they called it. We were a little earlier than usual, but we didn't have to wait long for their bus to show up.

"That's Brad in the blue shirt, and that's Stanley in the yellow shirt," Chip said.

"You go on into the building now," I told Chip.

"Alright," he said, and he left.

I walked over to Brad and Stanley. They were average size for freshmen, I guess, probably about five six or seven, not very filled out yet.

"I want to talk to you guys," I told them.

They both looked a little scared or something. I guess it wasn't every day a senior talked to them, and they didn't know what was up.

"Have you guys ever been picked on," I asked.

"What do you mean," Brad asked.

"You know, pushed around or hit for no reason? Called names? Made to feel bad? That kind of thing."

"In elementary this middle school kid in my neighborhood hit me for no reason all the time," Stanley said. "He picked on me."

"Why'd he do it," I asked.

"Because he was a prick, I guess. Just mean," Stanley said.

"So you think guys who pick on smaller guys are mean pricks," I asked.

"Yeah," Brad said.

"Do you know who I am," I asked.

"You're Kyle somebody. You're the president of the school, or something like that, right," Stanley said.

"Right. One of my jobs is to make sure people don't get picked on. Do you know of anybody who's been picking on people around here?"

They both got a little more scared looking.

"Let me tell you something. If you find out about somebody picking on somebody, I want you to come tell me, you hear?" I punched my right fist into my left hand to emphasize my point. "I don't mean good-natured teasing, you understand. You can tell the difference, can't you? I'm talking about meanness, being a prick or a jerk. You know what I'm saying?"

"Yeah," Stanley said. He had "guilty" written all over his face, and he knew I knew it.

"Y'all go on to your lockers and get ready for class. But I'm counting on you guys, and my other people, too, to keep me informed, you hear? Nobody will ever know the information came from you, either. You'll just be doing your job as good Marlins. See you, guys, and have a good day," I said.

I couldn't believe I pulled that off with a straight face, but I did. Freshmen are so easy to fool.

A couple of days later Chip and I were by ourselves again.

"Any better with Brad and Stanley," I asked.

"What did you do? Threaten to beat 'em up or something," he asked.

"Not at all," I said. "Are they doing better?"

"Yeah, in fact, they're doing great. Brad even loaned me a pen yesterday in class. He never would have done that before," Chip said.

"Good. Keep me posted, you hear?"

"I will. And thanks, Kyle," he said.

I thought about Justin saying I needed to learn how to let people be grateful.

"No problem, buddy. Let's get a snack," I said.

About two weeks after that I happened to see Stanley in the attendance office.

"Anything to report," I asked him.

"No. I think everybody's being nice, at least as far as I know," he said.

"Good. That's the way I want it around here. But you let me know if I need to step in, okay? What are you doing in here? Are you sick or something?"

"I have to check out to go with my mom to the welfare office," he said.

Oh, I thought. I didn't know what to say. He must be one of the poor and marginalized I was supposed to be caring about.

"Well, I need to get to class," I said. "Have a good day."

He went on about his business, and I went on about mine.

Kevin's Perspective

Rick and I took Trixie to the vet for shots and a check up. We had called ahead to make an appointment to speak to the doctor, so she was expecting us to both be there. Rick had taken Trixie twice before, once when we first got her and later to have her spayed, but that was my first visit.

"What can I do for you gentlemen," the doctor asked, after we were seated in her private office. She was very attractive and probably in her early thirties.

"Doctor, we're interested in finding out information about artificial insemination, and we were told you might be able to help," I said.

"Why don't you call me Martha, and may I call you Rick and Kevin," she asked.

"Sure, Martha, only I'm Kevin and he's Rick."

She chuckled at her mix-up.

"Of course, you know that Trixie's been spayed," she said.

"I'll get right to the point. My sister-in-law has an infertility problem, and I've agreed to donate sperm for her artificial insemination," I said. "I need information about how I might do that."

She blushed a little and looked away.

"I didn't say that right," I said. "I need information about who locally might be able to process the sperm for shipment to New Orleans."

She grinned.

"Excuse me," she said, and left the room.

"I think you might have taken her by surprise," Rick said.

"I think I did." He and I were both laughing.

She came back in the room, and, when she saw us laughing, she burst out laughing again, too.

When we all calmed down, she said, "Well, at least we all have a sense of humor."

"Yeah," Rick and I said.

"Now, to get serious. I worked with AI in vet school, so I'm familiar with the process, but I don't have the equipment to do that here," she said. "I suspect you'll have to see an ob/gyn for that. Wait a minute."

She flipped through her rolodex and dialed a number. She identified herself and asked to speak to the doctor. She explained what she wanted, but the look on her face said it didn't look good. She hung up after the usual pleasantries.

"That was my gynecologist, and he said the closest place you can have that done is Pensacola. He said the referral will have to come from your sister's doctor," she said.

"Sister-in-law," I said.

"Right. Sorry," she said. "Good luck with it. I hope everything works out."

I called Cherie as soon as I got back to my office to report on what we had learned.

"That won't be a problem, Kev. In fact, I have an appointment this afternoon. We have an appointment, I should have said. We're going to tell my doctor the good news from you," she said.

"Well, just get the information, and we're ready to go," I said.

She called back as I was getting ready to leave for the day. She had the name of the lab where I would have to go in Pensacola and an appointment time for the next week.

"Kev, I can't tell you how grateful I am to you. We are to you and Rick."

"I'm happy to do it, Cherie. You guys are precious to us, you know," I said. "Any special instructions? Like celibacy for a week or something?"

"Just twenty-four hours," she said. "That won't be a problem, will it?"

"Not at all," I said.

* * *

My appointment at the lab was at ten o'clock the following Friday. The highway to Pensacola was awful with traffic in the morning, so we decided to leave early enough to beat some of it and to give ourselves enough time to get there and not be late.

Since it was Friday, and since we had no idea how long this whole thing would take, we decided we wouldn't plan to go into the office at all that day. Consequently, we had both worn jeans and sport shirts. That had prompted an interrogation at the breakfast table.

"Are you all going to work dressed like that," Kyle asked.

"We're not going to work. We're going to Pensacola on some business," Rick said.

"What kind of business," Kyle asked.

"None of yours," Rick said.

They were sparring with each other, and I loved to watch it.

"Pensacola? Ain't that where the FBI is," Justin asked.

"Maybe," Rick said.

"Is it personal business or business business," Kyle asked.

"It's personal," Rick said.

"I have to see a doctor over there," I said, to further frustrate them.

"Are you sick," Jus asked.

"Nope," I said.

"Kevin, don't keep it from us, Bubba. If you need to go all the way to Pensacola to see a doctor, it must be mighty bad," Kyle said. "I'm going to be worried to death all day. We love you, Kevin."

"I know you do, but I'm not sick, Kyle. Believe me," I said.

"Well, this is pretty damn strange, is what I think," Jus said.

Rick and I were grinning at each other and at them.

"You're lying. Y'all aren't going to Pensacola, are you," Kyle said.

"Oh, yes, we are," Rick said.

"Are you ever going to tell us about it," Kyle pleaded.

"Maybe some day," I said, purposely trying to be mysterious. "Come on, Babe. We need to get going," I said to Rick.

"Bye, guys," Rick and I said in unison.

"Bye," they all said.

Once we were in the car, Rick and I laughed hysterically at what had gone on in the house.

"Don't you know Kyle is about to burst from wanting to know what's up," Rick said.

"Yeah. Imagine. Two grown men having personal business they won't tell the kids about," I said.

"They're nosey, but would you have it any other way," Rick asked.

"Not on your life," I said.

* * *

We found the place in Pensacola without too much trouble, and we got there about ten minutes before our appointment time. I had to fill out the usual paperwork about my medical history, nature of the complaint, etc., but a lot of it didn't really apply to a man, since it was an ob/gyn doctor's office. I expected the place to have only women, but there were five or six guys there, evidently with their wives.

"Mr. Foley. Mr. Kevin Foley," the nurse called when it was my turn to go back.

Rick and I both stood up. She looked at us like that was the wrong thing to do, but she didn't say anything when he went to the back with me. There was a male physician's assistant around our age waiting for us. He introduced himself as "Doctor" Giles, even though it plainly said on his name tag that he was a PA.

To say he was effeminate was to put it mildly. Rick winked at me, but I didn't react except to smile quickly.

It was only then that Dr. Giles looked at the paper I had filled out. There had actually been a category to answer that was about artificial insemination, and he got a bright look on his face when he realized that was why I was there.

"You're Mr. Foley, right," he asked, pointing at me.

"Right. Kevin Foley," I said. I extended my hand to shake his, like I ordinarily would, but he ignored it, looking back at the form instead. Prick, I thought.

"So, who are you?"

"Rick Mashburn," Rick said. He actually grabbed the man's hand and made him shake with him. "Good to meet you, Doc."

"Yes, well . . . Mr. Foley, do you have any questions?"

"No, I think I have the matter well in hand," I said.

I said that to be mildly amusing, but Dr. Giles thought it was hilarious.

"Oh, my," he said. "Well, here's the receptacle. Right through that door, please, sir."

He handed me an ordinary beaker like you would use in a high school chemistry lab.

"I probably won't be able to fill this up," I said.

Again Giles laughed his nuts off.

"Try your best," he said, and Rick and I laughed at that. I was starting to like the guy, even though he wouldn't shake my hand.

"Let's go, Babe," I said, and Rick and I started walking toward the door.

"Wait a minute," Giles said. "Where are you going," he asked Rick.

"I'm going with him," he said.

"I'm afraid we can't allow that," Giles said, all humor gone from his voice.

"Do you let a man's wife go in with him when he provides a sample," Rick asked.

"Well, of course, but . . . "

"Well, this is no different. I'm going in with my husband," Rick said.

If Dr. Giles had been wearing dentures, they would have been shattered on the floor with that statement. Giles got a big-ass grin on his face, and he blushed a little, too.

"Go ahead," he said. "Have fun."

We all laughed a little.

Once inside the little room, Rick grabbed me in a huge hug. I set the beaker down, and we kissed passionately. That was all it took to get me into sample-producing mode. Rick opened the fly of my jeans and licked my dick through my underwear.

"Wow," I said. "If you keep that up, we're going to have to wring out my underwear to get the sample we need."

He giggled.

"Don't you feel like we're being bad? Like maybe making out in church or something," he asked.

"Yeah," I said. "It's kind of fun being bad."

"I know," he said.

Rick pulled my jeans down a little and then released my erection from my underwear.

"God, that thing looks good," he said, and we laughed.

Mutual masturbation was an important part of our sex life, and, through the years, Rick had absolutely mastered how to make it the best for me. He put those skills to good use that morning, not once, but twice. I generally make a big load anyway, but we had held off since Tuesday night. I had a lot to donate.

"What's this," I said, fingering his erection through his jeans.

"I don't know," he said. "In the words of Kyle and Justin, 'you tell me.'"

We laughed.

"Come here," I said, taking him into my arms. "Thank you for doing this. I love you so much."

"I love you, too, and thank you for making me a part of it," he said.

I dropped down in front of him and popped the buttons on his fly. I had that big ole thing out and in my mouth in an instant. He grunted pretty loudly when he came, and I hoped Giles was listening. When we finished and went out into the other room, though, it was empty.

"Dr. Giles," I called.

He came into the room in a second.

"Oh, my," he said, when he looked at the sample.

"You told me to try to fill it up," I said.

He blushed, but he also laughed. He was actually a pretty good looking guy, and his hair was perfectly styled. I thought that over a beer, or even lunch, we could probably become friends.

"Well, you certainly gave it your best shot," he said.

Rick and I burst out laughing.

"That's not what I meant," Giles said.

"Maybe not, but it's still funny. Look, what's your first name?"

"Bob," he said.

"Look, Bob, I'm Kevin and he's Rick, and what you're holding in your hand is part of my new nephew or niece, I hope. Why don't you let us buy you lunch?"

"I'd like that. I have a few things I have to do with this first, though. Do you mind waiting thirty minutes or so," he asked.

"No problem. Take good care of it, and no tasting," I said.

He cracked up, and Rick and I laughed hard, too.

* * *

"Let's go outside so I can smoke," I said to Rick, once we were finished and were waiting for Bob to join us.

"Okay. Are you going to call Craig?"

"No, I'm going to call Cherie," I said.

"The deed is done," I said, after I got her on the phone.

"Wonderful. Was Rick the agent provocateur?"

"Yep, he sure was, and he did his part very well," I said.

She laughed.

"Did you reward him for his labors," she asked.

"Yes, I did," I said, and we both laughed. "The kids were beside themselves this morning wanting to know where we were going and what we were doing."

"Did you tell them?"

"No. Didn't you say we were going to keep this quiet?"

"Yeah, in general, but you can tell the boys, Kevin. I mean, it's kind of like their niece or nephew or something, isn't it?

"Would you settle for cousin?"

"Yeah. Right. What was I thinking? Kevin, when you guys tell the boys, make sure they know this is something we're praying for, hint, hint."

"I will, Cherie. Let me let you go. Rick and I are taking the Physician's Assistant out to lunch, and he just came out. Bye, girl. I love you, and I love that lunk you're married to," I said.

"I love you and your lunk, too. Bye."

"What did she say," Rick asked.

"She sounded pretty excited. She asked if you were the agent provocateur. Bob, I was just on the phone with my sister-in-law. She's the one who's going to be receiving the sample," I said.

"How cool," he said.

We got into my car and drove to one of those trendy "grill and bar" places. We preferred the old "bar and grill" concept in Emerald Beach.

"Cherie said it's okay to tell the kids," I said to Rick.

"I figured it would be," Rick said.

"Kids?"

"Our sons, Bob," I said. That began the saga of the Foley-Mashburn clan. It took us most of lunch to spell it all out, and Bob was clearly fascinated by our lives.

Bob turned out to be a hell of a nice guy. Yes, he was indeed gay, just as we thought, but he was "single" at the moment, and had been for some time. Evidently he had had a boyfriend/lover in college, but that guy had "quit" our team in favor of "a blonde with pert breasts." He dated occasionally, but there wasn't anybody he was serious about.

"Bob, this has been as good a morning as I've had in a long time," I said.

"I know. I saw the sample, remember?"

We all laughed hard.

"Do you ever get over to Emerald Beach," Rick asked.

"Now and then, but not regularly," he said.

We each gave him our cards, and he gave us each one of his.

"Let's keep in touch," Rick said. "It's not that far. We've got a big house with lots of room for guests. Our kids are incredible. Our friends are wonderful. We have a great time, and you'll fit right in."

"You may be coming back, Kevin," he said.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it sometimes takes several months for the woman to get pregnant, you know," he said. "They may need additional samples. You provided enough for three attempts, probably."

"That makes sense, but I guess I didn't realize that. All the more reason to tell the kids," I said to Rick.

"Yeah," he said.

"I hope it works the first time, but if we have to come back, we're taking you out to lunch every single time, Bob. Hear?"

"Let's just say we'll have lunch together every single time," he said.

"Okay. Fair enough," Rick said.

* * *

"No game tonight," I asked when I saw all the boys gathered in the den.

Chip was there as Denny's guest, and Alex and Cody were actually home on a Friday night for a change. Jeff and Tyler had come over, too. We had the full complement.

"It's an out-of-town game tonight," Brian said.

"So, what'd the doctor say," Kyle asked. He was so serious and so intense that it was actually comical.

"The doctor said, 'Fill it up,'" Rick said.

"I cannot trust you in the mood you're in, mister," Kyle said, pointing at Rick. "What'd he say, Kevin?"

"I didn't actually see a doctor. I saw a Physician's Assistant. Guys, you know about Craig and Cherie's infertility problem, don't you?"

Denny and Chip didn't know, so we filled them in.

"They asked me to donate sperm for artificial insemination, and that's what Rick and I did today," I said.

It took them a few seconds to process what I had said, but they all started laughing with delight when they figured it out.

"We're going to have us a baby? And you're going to be the daddy," Jus asked. He was ebullient.

"We're hoping and praying we're going to have a baby. And Cherie wanted me to emphasize the praying part. Y'all all need to pray that it works. We all do. But I'm not going to be the daddy, Jus," I said.

"Well, who is, then," Justin said. "You're confusing me, which ain't all that hard to do, by the way."

That caused chuckles.

"My brother is going to be the daddy, Jus. I'm just the sperm donor," I said.

"Ain't that the same thing," Jus asked.

"The daddy is the man who raises the child, who loves it, cares for it, protects it on a daily basis, provides for it. The one who donates the sperm might be the biological father, in a technical sense, but that doesn't in any way make him the daddy, Jus," I said.

"Who's your daddy, Justin," Rick asked.

"You and Kevin, dumbass. Who do you think?"

"Did either of us provide the sperm when we were eight or nine years old," Rick asked.

"Oh. I see what you mean," Jus said.

"This baby is going to be your cousin, not your brother or sister, Jus," I said.

"That's pretty loose in biological terms," Tim said.

"Yeah, but who cares about that? We're going to be getting us a baby," Kyle said. "And we're going to love it till it can't stand it."

"Can we call them," Brian asked. "And Grandma and Grandpa, too?"

"Good idea, Bri. I think we can do a three-way call," I said.

"Yeah, we can. I know how to do it," Jeff said. "I need some numbers, though."

We recited the two phone numbers for the New Orleans people, and Jeff jotted them down on the pad next to the phone. It took him a few minutes to get it all sorted out and entered in, but we soon had sixteen people on the phone with one another at one time. All three places were on speaker, so everyone could hear everything.

That conversation was like a family reunion without the food. We talked for over an hour, and there was great joy and much love at all three nodes of that call. My parents, Craig, and Jeff all screamed with laughter when Cherie referred to Rick as the agent provocateur, but the boys didn't laugh because they didn't know what that meant. A couple of minutes after she said that, Tim and Brian burst out laughing as it dawned on them what she was saying. They whispered it around, and they each laughed in turn.

"You jerked him off," Justin asked Rick.

There was dead silence for a second or two, and then my sweet little mother burst into hysterical laughter. That was all we needed to laugh some more.

"Justin, you and Brian come and live with us," she said.

We laughed.

"You might be ready for Brian, but y'all ain't ready for my ass," Jus said.

"Justin. Do I have to remind you about a certain oper . . . "

"Oh! No, ma'am. Don't!"

We all howled with laughter. All of us, that is, who knew about his surgery and about the part my mom played in it.

We finally reluctantly ended the conversation.

"If this ain't an ice cream moment, I don't know what is," Justin said. "Get your Eagle-Scout asses in there to help me."

They made huge bowls of ice cream for all twelve of us, and that night I got the bowl with the upright banana and the two coconut-covered mounds of ice cream on either side of it. I didn't know what other twenty-seven-year-old gay men were doing that night, and I really didn't care. I just figured they weren't having as much fun as I was.