A call in the middle of the night could only mean one thing: trouble. Ed got them fairly often, and he would have to get out of bed and go to the hospital to take care of his patient. Since I routinely refer seriously ill children to pediatric specialists, and since hospital emergency rooms are able to handle trauma much better than I am, I rarely get called at night. That night was an exception. The call came around one o'clock. Ed assumed it was for him and took it. Then he handed the phone to me. It was the reception desk in the ER at the mega-medical center near us. "Dr. Foley, I hate to bother you in the middle of the night, but the child's mother is hysterical, and she's screaming for you," the woman on the phone said. "Who's the child?" "Ronald Grisham. His mother brought him in unconscious with serious head trauma," she said. My blood ran cold. I had known and loved Ronnie since he was an infant. "What happened?" I asked. "Evidently his father beat him," she said. "Oh, my God," I said. "I'll be there as fast as I can. Is there a pediatric neurologist on call?" "Yes, Doctor. He's already here," she said. "Tell Mrs. Grisham I'll be there as soon as I can," I said. "Thank you for calling." Then I hung up. "What's going on?" Ed asked. "One of my patients was beaten by his father. He's unconscious. That's all I know at this point," I said. That's all I knew, but it wasn't all I suspected. I had seen Ronnie--Ron, now--about two weeks before for his flu shot and for a minor autumn allergy problem he was having. His mother no longer came into the examining room with him, and he wanted to talk after I had given him his shot and done my examination. "If I tell you something private, will you promise not to say anything to my mom about it?" he asked. "Of course, Ronnie. I won't tell her, if you don't want me to. Unless I think it puts you in danger. Then I have to tell," I said. "Would you call me Ron instead of Ronnie?" I nodded and smiled. "I like that, Ron," I said. Ron was fourteen, almost fifteen, and he was well into the adventure of puberty. In fact, I thought the months of our continuing relationship were numbered. He'd want a male doctor soon, I was pretty sure. He was small for his age, but his mother was a small woman, and there were no signs of pathology associated with his size. "I think there might be something wrong with me," he said. "What do you mean? Like what?" I asked. His voice became so soft I had difficulty hearing him. He bowed his head. "I think I like boys," he said. "You mean boys instead of girls?" He nodded. "Do you think you might be gay?" I asked. I knew from years of experience that a fourteen-year-old boy was certainly old enough to know if he were gay. I drew on all my years of mothering, and my more recent year of grandmothering. He was at his most vulnerable at that moment, and I knew I had to be the essence of tenderness and sensitivity with him. I said a quick, silent prayer to Mary, the mother of Jesus, for help and guidance in knowing what to say. "Yes," he whispered. Huge tears were streaming down his face. I reached over to the small desk in the room and picked up a double picture frame. One side of the frame had a picture of Kevin and Rick, and the other side had a copy of the picture of Tim and Kyle they had given us for Christmas. I showed it to him. "Do you see these men? This one is Rick Mashburn, and the other one is my son, Kevin Foley. And these boys? This is Kyle Goodson, and this other one is Tim Murphy. All four of them are gay. Rick and Kevin are married to each other, and Kyle and Tim are boyfriends," I said. He started swiping at his face to clear the tears away with his bare hand, and I handed him a tissue. He was definitely interested. "Your son is gay?" he asked, the surprise obvious in his voice. "My sons are gay. Rick is my son, too, now, Ron," I said. "And I consider these boys my grandsons." I took his chin in my hand and moved his face up so he was looking at me. I smiled, and he smiled softly, too. "Because you're gay doesn't mean there's something wrong with you, any more than there's something wrong with my sons and grandsons," I said. "God made you gay. You didn't chose it, and there's nothing you can do about it. I don't know of four happier people than the young men in these pictures." He was quiet for a few moments. One of my nurses spoke in the hallway outside the door. "Do you need anything, Doctor?" she asked. Just some privacy, I thought. "No. Thank you. Everything's fine," I said to her. I was spending a lot more time with Ronnie than I was supposed to, but he needed me. She didn't respond, so she must have gotten the hint. "All four of them are pretty cute, aren't they?" he asked. His smile when he said that melted my heart. Hugs weren't typically a part of a medical practice with adults, but they were a pediatrician's stock in trade. I gave him one then, and he hugged me back hard. "Do you have a boyfriend?" I asked. "Yeah," he said. The tears were gone, and there was excitement in his voice. "His name is Aaron, and he's so cute," he said. "Does he go to your school?" "No, ma'am. I met him during the summer playing baseball. We were on the same team. He was the pitcher, and I was the catcher," he said. Oh, my! I thought. Beth, you really do have a fundamentally dirty mind. It was undoubtedly due to all the time I had spent with my sons and grandsons. "Do you know about safe sex?" I asked. He blushed. "It's important, you know?" "What? Sex?" I laughed. "You cute little devil. You sound just like my grandsons," I said. He grinned. "But, yes, sex is very important, and safe sex is very important, too." "We know about safe sex, Doc," he said. "But what we do isn't unsafe." "If you ever have any questions about sex, call me, okay? I might not know the answers, but I have a team of resource people I can call on," I said, pointing to the pictures. He laughed. "Have you told anybody you're gay?" I asked. "Besides me, I mean." "Just Aaron," he said. Duh, I thought. "You'll know when it's right to do it," I said. "I wish you could meet my grandsons. You'd love them, and they'd love you. They live in Florida, though; not here." "I'd like to meet them. They look like nice boys," he said. "Oh, they are, but these two are not the only ones. I have several more in Florida, and they're all gay and all extremely nice," I said. "Really?" "Yes, really. How do you feel, Ron?" "My arm hurts where you gave me that shot, but my heart doesn't hurt anymore," he said. Oh, my God! I thought. I couldn't let him see me cry, so I grabbed him in another hug until I got under control. I'm sure I hurt his arm, but I certainly didn't intend to. "The next time you come in, I want to see a picture of Aaron, okay?" I said. "Yes, ma'am," he said. "Thank you for talking to me." "Thank you for trusting me," I said. * * * The number of people in the ER waiting room made me think of the line, "the city never sleeps." It was packed. I didn't see Ronnie's mother as I glanced around, so I went straight to the reception desk and identified myself. The nurse ushered me back to where Ronnie was. The pediatric neurologist, a man I worked with on an interdisciplinary child study team I participated in a couple of times a month, had already finished his examination. "Hi, Beth. He's had a skull fracture and is in coma. I've already ordered imaging, and they'll be taking him up for that in a couple of minutes." "What are his soft signs?" "Good, actually. I don't think the coma is very deep at all. In fact, there's probably a tiny bit of swelling of the brain but no bleeding. I could be wrong, of course, but I've seen a lot of head trauma like this. Car wrecks, mostly. There's even a chance he's not in coma at all." "I've treated this kid since the day he was born, Jason. I want my baby taken care of, you hear?" He grinned. "You love him, don't you?" "Am I that transparent?" I asked. "Beth, you've got 'grandmother' written all over you, and even babies can read it," he said. I knew he was teasing me, but I liked that. Jason was a good man and an excellent neurologist. "I take it that's a compliment," I said. "The ultimate compliment. Mothers love their children. Grandmothers live for their grandchildren. You've secretly been a grandmother all your life, I'll bet." I thought about my Florida grandchildren who were at my house at that very minute and about my grandchild that Cherie was carrying, and I smiled. "I'm right, aren't I?" Jason said. "I've got a house full of grandchildren visiting right now, and one on the way. Yes, you're right, young man," I said. He laughed, and I did, too. "So the prognosis is good," I said. "It's very good. Unless I'm missing something, he'll be conscious by tomorrow afternoon, if not sooner. He'll have a hell of a headache, though. Probably for a couple of days," he said. "Do you know what happened?" "I talked to the mother, but I didn't get much out of her. I ordered a tranquilizer for her, and I had the nurse call her sister to come here to be with her. Evidently, the kid's father did it to him. What's his name?" "Ronnie," I said, "although he wants to be called Ron now." "Well, it seems that Ronnie took a glancing blow to the head with a liquor bottle. The old man was drunk, apparently. Thank God for that. Otherwise he could have killed him." "Real bottles don't break like they do in the movies, do they?" "No, the head breaks, not the bottle," he said. "Jason, I want to be kept informed of everything that happens, okay? Here's my card with my cell phone number on it. Please call me. I'm going to be out of pocket tomorrow with my grandsons, but you can always reach me at that number," I said. "Okay," he said. "Good night, Beth." "Good night, but I'm not leaving yet. I want to talk to Grace Grisham," I said. "Who's that?" "Ronnie's mother. Grace will talk to me, I think. We've known each other for years." "You're on a first-name basis?" "Of course. That's how I do business," I said. * * * I walked around the waiting room until I found Grace. There must have been a hundred people in there, or more. I finally found her sitting with another woman, who turned out to be her sister. After we greeted one another, I gave her the news from the neurologist. "How did this happen, Grace?" I asked. "Ron came home drunk around eleven. A squad car dropped him off. He had called earlier to say he was going to be late because he and his friends from the precinct were going out to celebrate a big bust they had been working on for months and finally made this afternoon. I had expected him to be happy when he came home. Ron's usually a happy drunk, not a mean one. But he was mad tonight. "I asked him what was wrong, and he said he had found out that his kid was a faggot. He was shouting, Beth, and he woke up the four-year-old and the eight-year-old. Ronnie didn't come out of his room, though. "He told me to go get that faggot, meaning Ronnie. I said, How dare you call your son that? Because he is, he said. One of his friends had seen Ronnie kissing the friend's nephew. "We fought and argued for a while. He took a couple of swings at me, but I ducked. He got out a bottle of booze and poured himself a drink. He didn't need that drink, that's for sure. Then he went back to Ronnie's room and dragged him into the kitchen. Ronnie is my big boy, the one who helps me with the little ones. He was so humiliated, Beth. He was so scared and so ashamed." Grace dissolved into tears. "He's a fucking monster, Grace. That big-mouth macho cop. He doesn't love those kid, Grace." "Yes, he does, Sylvia. He was drunk, that's all," Grace said. "You don't almost kill your kid because you're drunk, Grace. I don't care how drunk he was. Your kid is your kid, no matter what. You don't fucking hit 'em in the head with a whiskey bottle. Ever!" "Where is your husband now," I asked. "The cops took him. Even though they live in Orleans Parish, the Jefferson Parish cops responded to the 9-1-1," Sylvia said. "I'll bet they took him to Central Lockup downtown, though." "Who's with the other children now," I asked. "My husband," Sylvia said. "I want you both to have my card with my cell phone number. I won't be back in my office until Monday, but call me any time when you need me," I said. When I got home at 4:30, Ed woke up. He put his arm across my chest and snuggled up against my back. I needed that reassurance. "Are you awake?" I asked. "Yes." "Do you want to talk?" I asked. "No." "But you're going to, aren't you?" "Apparently," he said. "Ed, the patient is gay, and his father found out tonight. He clobbered him with a whiskey bottle," I said. "Let's go get whiskey bottles and kill our kids and grandkids. They're gay, too, you know?" I was very tired, but I was also incredibly pumped up on adrenalin. I started laughing when he said that, and I couldn't stop. "You have to stop shaking the bed," he said. "You can continue laughing, if you want to, but please don't shake the bed anymore." That only made me laugh more, of course, and it made Ed laugh, too. "I'm glad we're on the first floor," he said. "Why is that?" "Because if the kids heard this, they would think we were fucking," he said. I laughed. "Ed, if what I'm feeling is what I think it is, you and I probably should be fucking right now," I said. He laughed. "It's what you think it is," he said. We made "grandparent" love. Long and tender and, oh, so nice. I loved that man more than myself, and he loved me that much, too, at least. We showed that love to one another that early morning. * * * "Wake up," Ed said, nudging me in the side. "What time is it?" I asked. "It's nine o'clock. Do you smell that? Odille must be here," he said. "She's only coming to cook for tonight," I said. "Well, somebody is obviously cooking breakfast. Nothing but bacon smells like bacon, and that's what I smell. Let's grab a shower. Is today a hair-wash day for you?" "No, yesterday and tomorrow," I said. "We haven't taken a shower together in years." "I know, but don't expect anything this morning but suds, okay?" I laughed. "After last night, it'll be a week at least, right?," I said. "Don't sell this boy short," he said. I laughed. * * * The boys were precious, as usual. They were so fresh and unjaded that it was like therapy for me to be around them. I kept thinking about little Ronnie all day, and I talked to the neurologist and Ronnie's mother several times over the phone. Ronnie pulled out of his coma around three in the afternoon, and I silently rejoiced. "He's out of the coma," I said to Ed. "Thank God," he said. We went home after our trip to Barataria, and the guys all went out to open oysters. I had had Odille order a sack of them and put them in a tub of ice on the patio. I knew they loved raw oysters, and the rumor was the oysters were unusually good this year. "Beth, I wasn't ready for this fatigue," Cherie said. She and I were each on a sofa in the den. "I'm tired, too," I said. "I got called out on an emergency last night. This morning, really. One o'clock." "I didn't realize you do that sort of thing," she said. "Ordinarily I don't. The child was beaten in the head with a whiskey bottle by his father, and he was in a coma. He's out of it now, though, thank God." "What were the circumstances," she asked. "The father found out the boy is gay. Isn't that reason enough to almost kill a fourteen-year-old?" "He's very lucky to have you as his physician. I hope he knows how close you are to homosexuality," she said. "He knows. Honey, why don't we both close our eyes for a few minutes while the men play with the oysters," I said. She chuckled, but she didn't say another word. I joined her in sleep moments later.
It had been a wonderful trip until we found out about the boy whose dad beat him up. When I heard Grandpa tell about it, I suddenly got so upset I couldn't even talk. I grabbed Kyle's hand, and he walked me out into the yard away from everybody. I broke down crying. Kyle was so sweet to me. He put his arms around me and held me. He didn't say anything, but I felt his strength. That calmed me down in a few minutes. "I don't know if I could ever do what Grandma did," I said. "I really do want to be a doctor, Babe, but stuff like that would get to me." "I think stuff like that gets to everybody," he said. "Do you think you'd like to be a pediatrician?" "I don't know what kind of doctor I want to be. Right now the idea of being a surgeon sounds pretty good to me, but that's a very long residency. I don't know," I said. "Well, whatever kind of doctor you decide to be, I'll be at your side every minute," he said. * * * Cherie and Craig went home after dinner. Grandma was very tired, so she went to bed. Grandpa stayed up a little while talking to us, but he went to bed sort of early, too. "Do you guys feel like going out?" Kevin asked. "Denny hasn't been to the Quarter yet, and things should be pretty lively down there on a Friday night." "Sure," Kyle said. "Do you want to go, Babe?" "Yeah, that sounds like fun," I said. The seven of us Florida boys rode in Rick's van, and Curt and Seth rode in Seth's car. They were spending the night at Curt's apartment, so it didn't make sense for them to go with us. "So, Denny, what do you think of New Orleans so far?" Rick asked. He was driving. "This place is unbelievable, Rick," Denny said. "I had never been to a museum before yesterday, and just riding around has been terrific. This is the longest I've ever gone without reading." We laughed. "I want to buy me a book or two about the Confederacy," Justin said. "There are two or three good ones in the library at home about it, Jus," Denny said. "Oh, yeah? Show 'em to me when we get home, okay? I don't hang out in the study much," he said. "I'm surprised you even know where it is," Kyle said. "Oh, yeah? I'll show you something you can study," he said. "Yeah? Under a microscope?" Kyle asked. "Very funny. You got me last, though," Jus said. "I was hoping you noticed," Kyle said. We all laughed a little, but that one wasn't as spectacular as some of theirs were. "Kyle's got a big birthday coming up," I said. "Remember what we did last year? With Friday the Thirteenth and all?" "How could I forget," Kyle said. "It's not on Friday this year, though. It's on Saturday." "Sounds like a good day for a party," Justin said. "My parents are going to be moving soon," he said. "The house is almost finished, and they'll do it after I turn eighteen." Hearing him say that made me think about the changes that were coming. Kyle and I had ridden over to his parents' new house the weekend before the trip, and it took my breath away. It was on a big wooded lot on a bay, not a lagoon like the one in Emerald Beach, and the house was large and beautiful. The house his parents had in Emerald Beach was a showplace, but the one in Destin was going to be twice as nice. And it didn't even have furniture in it yet. Part of it was two stories, and the foyer and living room had really high ceilings. His parents were going to have a suite at one end of the house, with a bedroom, two humongous bathrooms, a sitting room, and two closets that were a big as rooms. There was another suite just like it on the opposite side of the house, and that was for Kyle and me, whenever we wanted to be there. Our suite had everything theirs had, but it also had a hot tub and shower outside in an enclosed patio. None of the landscaping had been done yet, but we had looked at the landscaping plans. It was going to be nice. The house had a darkroom that was going to be fully equipped for guess who. Kyle hadn't known about that until that visit, and it made him really excited. "Are you going to want to live here?" I had asked him, after we had seen it. "Not unless you come live here with me," he said. "But I don't want us to do that. I'm a Beach Rat, and that's where I belong." "It's almost like they're trying to get us to come live here," I said. "They're going to give us a condo in Emerald Beach," he said. "Your dad asked me if we had looked at the ones he told you about," I said. "I forgot about that," he had said. "I've been so busy at school, you know?" "I know. Homecoming took up a lot of time, but it's over now," I said. "I think they want you to go see those ones they picked out so they can buy one of them for you." "Tim, my parents already own those places," he said. "Actually, it's a company my parents own that owns them. I just found out about it. It's called Goodson Properties, and it has a lot of beach real estate. They've kept a lot of stuff from me. I felt like a pure fool when Kevin and Rick had to tell me about the Goodson Family Foundation. Imagine going into a huge building that has your family's name on it, and you not knowing it was even there. That happened when I went to orientation at the college. Imagine having the president of the college come down from his office to shake your hand, and you not knowing he even knew you existed." "Have you talked to your parents about this," I asked. "Yeah, a little bit. They said they didn't think I was interested," he said. "Were you?" "What do you think?" "I don't think you were one bit interested," I said. He shoved me affectionately. "You're right," he said, and we both laughed. "Are you interested now?" I asked. "I think I know about everything now," he said. "Do you think you have a trust fund?" I asked. I thought he probably did. "Yeah, I do. I found out about that when Clay died. I inherited his," he said. "They had to pay a lot of tax on that when he died." "Do you have any idea of what yours is worth? I don't want to know; I'm just wondering if you know." "I have no idea. I'd tell you if I knew, but I really don't know. I think it's a good bit, though," he said. "Kyle, I'd say you're rich and could have anything you wanted," I said. "I know, but what do I want that I don't already have? The stuff I really want you can't buy, anyway. I want you, and I've got you. I want friends so good and so close that we're like brothers, and I've got them. I guess if I was poor I would want food and clothes and a car and a nice place to live, but I've got all that. It's kind of ironic, isn't it?" he said. "You mean that you could have anything you wanted but you don't want anything? I think that's called a paradox." "Exactly. What is it I'm supposed to want, Tim?" "Happiness?" "I've got that, Tim. That's my point. I've got happiness, and it doesn't have anything to do with money. I'm happy because of the people in my life. The only thing that could make me happier than I am is for my brother to come back to life, and there's no amount of money in the world that can make that happen," he said. "Babe, we've never talked about this before, have we?" I asked. "I know. Is it making you bored?" "Not at all. You know what? I don't want anything, either," I said, "except what I've already got." "So what do I do with the trust fund when I turn eighteen? Give it away?" "No, I'd hold on to it for a while. Until you turn, say, eighty-five. Then you can give it away," I said. He howled with laughter. "Alright, I'll hold on to it. You never can tell," he said. "That's right. You never can tell." * * * We had a good time in the French Quarter that night. We went back to that gay dance place we had gone to at Christmas, and they let Denny in without even a blink. Kevin, Justin, and Kyle got liquor drinks, and the rest of us just got cokes. But they all cost the same. Seven bucks. Wow! A seven-dollar coke? "This is a pretty weak drink for seven dollars," Kyle said. "I think they're stiffing us." "That's what a gay club is all about, dumbass. You come here to get stiffed," Justin said. That made everybody laugh. "Kevin, do any places we own have clubs like this?" Kyle asked. "No exclusively gay ones, but we have several nightclubs, Kyle. The brand-name hotels have them," Kevin said. "Could we make one of them gay?" Kyle asked. "No," Kevin said. "And you have reasons for this?" he asked. "Yes." "Would you like to share the reasons?" Kyle asked. He and Kevin were being so cute that I was laughing in delight at them. Justin and Brian were up dancing, and Denny was still wide-eyed, taking it all in. "Kyle, those clubs are very profitable. There isn't a large-enough gay population in Emerald Beach to support something like that. Club La Vela has a couple of gay rooms, and they get all the gay tourists. I'm not about to go head-to-head with them," Kevin said. "So you're all about making money," Kyle said. "Yeah, I am. Aren't you?" "I guess," he said. We stayed in that club about an hour, and then we walked Bourbon Street and the rest of the Quarter. We ended up at Cafe du Monde for coffee and doughnuts. "This place is incredible," Denny said. "I know. It's like an authentic Disney World," Kyle said. "I wouldn't know. I've never been to Disney World," Denny said. "I've heard it's really nice, though." "You've never been to Disney World, Denny?" Kyle asked, dumbfounded. "No," Denny said. "I haven't been there, either," Brian said. "Me, neither," Jus said. "I think I see a trip shaping up here," Kyle said. "I can't believe you guys grew up in Florida and haven't been there. I've been there about a dozen times." "Kyle, think about where we came from, man," Justin said. I could tell Kyle was sorry he had said that. He hung his head down. "Kyle, don't hang your head, Bubba. It ain't your fault we grew up poor, and you didn't," Justin said. "I know, but I forget sometimes," Kyle said. "I shoot off my mouth before I think." "Justin shoots off in my mouth before he thinks," Brian said. Nobody was expecting that, especially from Brian, and everybody laughed hysterically. "You're getting mighty spunky, there, Bubba," Rick said, having trouble catching his breath for laughing so hard. "Tell me about it," Brian said and pointed to Justin. Justin was laughing hard, but I could tell he was really proud of Brian. He grabbed him in a headlock and gave me a nuggie. Brian was laughing hard, too, and he kissed Justin on the cheek when he broke free. "Let's go. These fags are disgusting me," a middle-aged man at the table right next to us said loudly to the woman he was with. They got up and stormed off, but two waiters intercepted them at the gate of the place. They hadn't paid for their order. "Fuck you," the four guys at the table on the other side of them shouted in unison. There were lots of stares from people at other tables, but the people at one table, two men and two women, clapped. When they were finished clapping, the two men joined hands, and the two women did likewise. "Who was that guy talking about?" Justin asked. "I thought it was us." "We thought it was us," one of the boys at the four-man table said. "We were sure it was us," one of the lesbians said. "I reckon we're everywhere," Justin said, and the people at all three tables laughed.
We didn't stay out real late Friday night, and it was a good thing, too. Tim and I were tired, and all we had energy for that night in bed was a little kissing and holding each other. Tim and I both got hard, of course, but we were just going to have to enjoy one another that way that night. We'd take care of business in the morning. I got up to pee about two o'clock in the morning. I almost never had to do that, but those drinks and that coffee had gone right through me. I had just gotten back in bed and was snuggling up with my boy when I heard it. Footsteps on the wooden staircase leading up to the apartment. I froze in the bed. What the fuck do I do now? I heard a key go into the lock on the front door. My stomach was in knots. My nipples were so tight with fear they hurt like hell. Do I get up and try to clobber him, or do I pretend to be asleep and only go into action if he tries to get one of us? He could steal all he wanted to, as far as I was concerned, but I didn't want him hurting anybody. "It's me, boys," he said, and it was Grandpa. He didn't say it loud enough to wake anybody up, but I was damn sure glad he had said it. I guess he thought somebody might be awake and had heard him. Well, he was right. "Grandpa?" I asked. "Yeah, Kyle. It's just me." He opened our bedroom door. "I just got a call from the hospital, and I have to go in. I wanted to see if Tim and Brian want to go with me," he said. "Oh, yes, sir. I know they do. Tim, wake up. Wake up," I said. I nudged him. "What?" Tim asked. He was half asleep. "Grandpa's here. Do you want to go to the hospital with him?" I turned on the reading lamp on my side of the bed, and Tim and I both blinked. He was butt naked and hard as a rock, but he woke right up when he saw who it was. He got out of bed with that dick just a-waving in front of him. He was bumping around trying to find his clothes, and Grandpa was grinning and laughing. "Take your time, Tim. Kyle, go wake up Brian, please," he said. "Yes, sir," I said. I wasn't hard anymore because I had just peed, but I knew ole Grandpa knew the score about those things. He wasn't interested and didn't care. I went in and woke Brian up. He was just as naked and just as hard as Tim. He didn't startle, though, when I woke him up. I told Brian what was going on, and I have never seen anybody get dressed as fast as he did. That boy moved, you hear me? The three of them left, and I went back to bed. Justin never knew what happened. Justin came in our room the next morning naked and sticking straight up. He had a stricken look on his face, like something terrible had happened. "Where's Brian, Kyle?" he asked. "He's gone." "Grandpa came and got him and Tim last night, Bubba. They're at the hospital cutting somebody open," I said. He sat down on the bed and started bawling. I put my hand on his back. "I thought he was gone, Kyle. I thought my boy was gone," he said. I let him cry for a little bit. He needed to get out all the negative stuff inside him. "What the fuck time is it?" I asked. It was still dark out. "Five thirty," he said. "Go pee and come get in bed with me," I said. "Our boys are okay." He did what I told him to do, and he got in bed with me. We cuddled up and went right back to sleep. We woke up for the day around 7:30, and Grandpa, Tim, and Brian were sitting at the breakfast table when we went into the house. Justin and I kissed our guys good morning. They both looked pretty tired, and Grandpa looked beat. "Good operation?" I asked. Tim and Brian both started babbling like mountain brooks when I asked that. Grandma and Grandpa were both just grinning at them like they were two little puppies who had just discovered the Christmas tree. Right then I knew those boys were hooked. "I think we've got us some future doctors," Justin said. "I think so, too, Bubba," I said. "I guess there could be worse things." "Kyle, I wish I had your camera," Grandma said. "Why, Grandma?" I asked. "To capture the excitement on their faces and the pride on yours and Justin's," she said. "Do you think we ought to keep these kids, Mom?" Kevin asked. "No. I think you should give them to me," she said. We all laughed. |