by Aiden Bates
Brantley had the standing, the connections, and the funds to hire a lawyer like Rohan Gupta. Most of those Gottlieb tormented didn't have that luxury. It only took a little bit of digging to come up with a body count. Once Rohan found one victim, Finn Riley was more than happy to allow the use of Silver Oak resources—after hours, of course.
Gupta was relentless. He made an airtight case, and thanks to his media connections everyone knew it—not just everyone in Upstate New York, but everyone in the country. Even Brantley hadn't suspected just how deep Gottlieb's hatred ran. Four hundred men, and two hundred women, over the past twenty years had been sent back to unsafe countries because Gottlieb had found spurious reasons to reject or revoke their asylum cases.
He rejected one woman's application for asylum on sexual orientation grounds because her name was transliterated differently on two different documents. She wound up being deported to Yemen, and killed by a jealous man.
He rejected one man's application for asylum, in a case similar to Brantley's, simply because he didn't believe he was gay. The man was deported to Chechnya. His body turned up a month later.
The jury took all of two hours to convict. His lawyer tried to convince them there were legitimate homeland security reasons to be so strict about that particular aspect of grants of asylum, but the jury didn't buy it. Gottlieb was sentenced to twenty years to life for abuse of power, corruption, and hate crimes.
Brantley hadn't had the full prison experience, and he was grateful. He didn't envy Gottlieb his fate. He showed up for the victim impact statement. "Most of your victims cannot be here today," he said, as cameras focused on him. "Many of them are dead. That doesn't mean much to you, I know. I can see it in your eyes. I can see it in the look on your face. The only reason I'm not among them is privilege. I had enough of a place in this, my new homeland, that I could afford to get a fantastic attorney to go to bat for me. And because of that, your other crimes were uncovered.
"You failed, Gottlieb. You tried so hard, and you failed. And because you failed, I'm a citizen now. Because you failed, while you're sitting in a federal penitentiary with a bunch of men who know exactly who and what you were, I'll be raising my children here, as free Americans. Full Americans, who are entitled to all of the rights and freedoms this country has to offer.
"My children will be able to love who they love, under open skies, without fear. You tried to take that from me, and you failed. Enjoy your trip."
Maybe it was petty and vindictive, but he sent Gottlieb a Christmas card every year, just to remind him of everything he was missing.
Natalie Parris didn't cope well. Gottlieb had been her idol. He'd been the love of her life, too. The details of their torrid affair came out during Gottlieb's trial. Gupta wanted to try her for the same crimes as Gottlieb, but it was clear from the evidence that she'd simply followed wherever he led.
Now, though, she had no leader. She had no lover. She had no job, either. No police force would hire her, given her newly terrible reputation. She shouted obscenities at Brantley and Allen from her car for a while, and then she decided to try her luck out west.
After a few months, she resurfaced again. She'd remade herself as an alt-right talk show host on the Internet. Brantley didn't watch. He couldn't make himself sit through that, but he figured it was a good career choice for her. He was sure someone had editorial control over her content — most of those big networks did, even online. And it kept her working, and off the streets. As a voter now, he supposed that ought to concern him.
Allen went into labor in late April. He was very lucky in that their son decided to wait until Carter had returned from paternity leave before putting in his appearance. Not all babies were so courteous. His labor was protracted, and they did resort to an epidural, but at long last, Fabian Nicholas Powell was born. He was twenty-two inches long and seven and a half pounds.
"Tall and skinny, like his dad," Brantley laughed, when the nurses put his newborn son into his arms. "Oh my God, Allen, he's perfect. Look at him!"
Fabian didn't want to be looked at. He wanted the bright lights to go away, and then he wanted to sleep. This, according to Allen, was pretty normal for newborns.
They brought him home two days later. Alaina showed a little interest in her new brother, but she was only nine months old herself. She wasn't expressing herself well yet. She had a strong sense of solidarity, though. When Fabian cried, Alaina cried. And Fabian reciprocated.
"I think we're in trouble," Brantley told Allen, when they'd picked up on the phenomenon.
"Oh, we were in trouble the day we brought Alaina home." Allen smiled. He was exhausted, but anyone could see how happy he was. "We'll do what we always do."
"Fake it until we figure it out?" Brantley grinned at him.
"Fake it 'till it's real." Allen kissed him, and Brantley relaxed. He was home.
Bonus Chapter
Brantley groaned as Allen dragged himself down Brantley's body. Even after all this time, Allen still knew how to surprise him. He hadn't slept well last night. Today was going to be a big day for him, and that made for twitchy sleep patterns. Part of him knew that wasn't good, and part of him rolled his eyes at that. He'd be fine, if he didn't make a habit of it.
But when Allen looked at him with that gleam in his sparkling green eyes, he knew it was all over. A few light touches, a few whispered nonsense words in the right place, and now here they were. Brantley might still have something to be anxious about, but he'd be damned if he could remember it right now.
Allen slid down until he was between Brantley's spread legs. He got into a good position, with his ass up in the air, and met Brantley's eyes. With a wink and a little smirk, he opened his mouth and sucked Brantley down.
Brantley gripped the sheets in both hands and bit down on his lip. He would not wake the kids. He refused. The room had a lock on the door, but they'd already learned the hard way that having two toddlers pounding on the door killed the mood. He had to keep quiet, if they wanted their privacy, but damn Allen's mouth made him want to shout.
Allen had talents. He had skills. He could make a man weep. His tongue was more flexible than a gymnast's body, and the way he hummed might have come from the devil himself.
Brantley couldn't last. He had passed the point where he felt he had to prove himself, anyway. He gave Allen what he needed when it counted. At times like this, he could feel free to just let go and enjoy and not feel like he'd somehow surrendered his manhood at the door.
He didn't think getting a husband who could make him see stars with a simple early morning blowjob diminished his manhood in any way, but hey. Some guys were sensitive that way.
When he came back to himself, he rolled over and nibbled on Allen's neck. He loved that, and always had. It only took a few gentle tugs to bring Allen over the edge, and that was a funny thing too. Early in the morning, they both finished easily. Later in the day, they could go for a lot longer.
Maybe they would, later. Brantley wouldn't rule it out.
They hopped into the shower, but didn't fool around. They could hear stirring on the baby monitors, and they knew what that meant. Their toddlers would be fully up by the time they had hosed themselves down. They didn't have time to play. Again, maybe later.
Once they'd showered and changed, they went to go corral their offspring. Alaina had climbed out of her toddler bed and built a blanket fort in her room. That impressed Brantley; he didn't know where she came by her talent for architecture, but she had an instinct for spatial awareness and balance that he couldn't deny.
Of course, she was still resisting potty training. That meant a trip to the bathroom the kids shared, to get some clean, dry pull-ups, and another exercise in frustration as he tried to coax her into trying to use the toilet.
It would come. They all got it, eventually.
Allen was taking care of Fabian's morning ritual today. Fabian was the chatty Cathy of the household. While Alaina could sit and smile, content to play with bloc
ks or Lincoln logs in silence all day long, Fabian had to have someone to talk to. He never stopped. Brantley could hear him now, talking to Allen.
"I dreamed about Daddy. Daddy and me went on a plane. Whee! We fly and fly. Then down! All done. We get out of the plane and there's all puppies everywhere!" Fabian giggled and clapped his little hands.
"That sounds great, sweetie. Let me just get these pants onto you."
"No pants! Too hot for pants. Fab want to go to the airport with NO PANTS. And then everyone else will wear NO PANTS. And it will be NO PANTS DAY. And everyone will run through the sprinkler like we did at Gramma's house."
Brantley looked at Alaina. Alaina just rolled her pretty brown eyes and went back to not using the potty.
Eventually both parents decided to cut their losses and take what wins they could. Brantley got Alaina dressed in a pretty blue dress, while Allen wound up stuffing their babbling son into something that resembled a suit but without the drawback of being dry-clean only. They brought the children downstairs and got them fed. They took care of other matters of personal grooming before heading out the door.
Syracuse looked lovely in May. All of the trees were in full bloom, and everyone had an interest in landscaping, for the time being. It would fade, as heat and humidity diminished the amount of time anyone was willing to spend outdoors, but for now, people wanted to put the effort in.
The airport was less pretty. Like most airports, there were attempts to make it better, but at the end of the day, it was still a municipal airport. It was still a place for air travel, commercial or industrial. There was only so much pretty that could be added to a place like that—not much.
His stomach was in knots again. His escapades with Allen had taken some of the edge off, but they'd come back with a vengeance.
They stood in the Arrivals area, all together. Brantley was sometimes sure they stood out. He could see people looking at them. Was it because they were two tall men? Was it because they were two men? Was it because they were an interracial couple?
Was it because they were an interracial couple, with children of two distinct races who were obviously the same age, standing in the middle of the arrivals area pretending not to notice that one child was building an Eiffel tower out of old Yellow pages and the other one was doing some kind of obscure ritual dance around it?
The eyes of other people still made Brantley want to itch his skin right off. Still, he'd come a long way. He reached out and took Allen's hand. "Fabian, watch what you're doing. Other people have to walk through here, you know. Alaina, don't trip people with your tower."
"No, Daddy." Alaina's voice was so sweet she had to be up to something.
Finally, the plane arrived. There were no delays, of any kind. It was on time.
Brantley held his breath as he waited for the faces he most wanted to see in the whole world.
He recognized them right away, of course. He'd seen pictures, and he'd know his mother's broad smile and dark skin anywhere. Her face might have a few extra lines in hit, but it was still the same face. His father had changed a little more. His skin had lightened some, and he'd lost most of his hair. Still, he was the same tall, strong Dad. He still had the same gravitas and dignity to him he'd had when Brantley had been a small child.
They passed through the arrival gate, and Brantley could contain himself no more. He launched himself at his parents and threw his arms around them. "Mama!" he cried, burying his face in her shoulder. She still smelled the same. After all these years, and however many hours on a plane, she still smelled the same.
His parents held him close for a good five minutes, as other arrivals glided around them. For once, Brantley didn't care if they were in the way.
Finally, he took his parents' hands and led them over to the rest of the family. Allen had a child's hand in each of his. His face was spread into a happy, reassuring smile, but his green eyes were a little wild.
Of course they were. Brantley was reuniting with the loving parents who he'd missed for over two decades. Allen was meeting his in-laws for the first time. Of course he was anxious.
He stepped back. "Mum, Dad, this is my family. This is Allen, my husband. And these are our children, Alaina and Fabian."
Brantley knew he didn't need to be afraid his parents would say something inappropriate. They were good people who knew how to behave. Still, he held his breath as his parents examined the rest of the family.
Then Brantley's mum got down toward the ground. "I can see who's really in charge here." She held out a hand to Alaina. "You must be Alaina."
Alaina tried to hide behind Allen's long leg, but she gave Mum a sweet smile anyway. "Are you my Nan?"
Mum smiled at her. "I am. I'm your Dad's mum. I'm going to be staying with you for a while, until we've found a place of our own. Or maybe a little longer." She winked. "I'd always prefer to have another girl in the house."
Alaina nodded. "Me too. It's all boys, except Sadie."
"Who is Sadie?" Mum looked up at Brantley. "Is she your nanny?"
"She's the dog, mum." Brantley snickered.
Brantley's father scoffed. "Dogs in the house? Why not just bring goats inside, then? Honestly, I never."
Allen and Brantley looked at each other and laughed. None of the rest of their party had the first clue why they were laughing so hard, but that didn't matter.
They drove back to the house in their nice, shiny new mini-van. Brantley hated the mini-van, but he could see where it would be useful now. They couldn't fit six people into a Jeep, never mind six people and a dog.
Once they made it back to the house, Brantley picked up his parents' luggage. "I'm sure you must be exhausted. I'll show you to your apartment."
"We have our own apartment?" Mum looked around. "Brantley, this is a palace."
"We've both done okay, mum. And yes, you have your own apartment in this house. It connects to the main house, but both sides have the option to lock it." He showed her how this was done. "We'll let you settle in, and then we'll have dinner whenever you're ready. Allen's folks are coming by at six."
The younger Powells retreated to the deck, to give the older family members time and privacy. Alaina and Fabian played on their swing set, a mammoth structure with shade and a slide that had taken Brantley and his brother-in-law two days to set up. He was proud of it, though. It would survive anything. It would survive a hurricane.
The kids went down for a nap at about eleven, and their grandparents joined them for lunch. "We didn't fly all this way to take naps, Brantley," his mother told him. "We've missed an awful lot. Let us love our grandchildren, would you?"
For all Dad's dismissal of dogs in the house, Sadie soon proved to be his favorite grandchild. Brantley could only smile and shake his head as his father threw ball after ball for the Golden Retriever. Mama watched indulgently in the few moments she could spare from pushing Alaina and Fabian ever higher on the swings, and sliding down the slide with them.
The rest of the family showed up at quarter of six. It was a little early, but Brantley understood. It wasn't every day that family members showed up from Jamaica, here to stay. It was only natural to be curious, and all Fryes wanted to be welcoming.
They brought gifts, of course. They brought American flags and winter coats, even though it was May, because as Isabel explained "You never know around here, even in May. We could be enjoying the sun today, and putting the heat back on tomorrow. You don't want to get caught by surprise."
And they brought food. Isabel, and Janine of course, embodied the stereotype about Italian American women. Someone, nearby, ran the risk of going hungry. It was better to feed them. Maybe they didn't like lasagna, so bring a tray of stuffed shells, too. And maybe some roasted chicken.
Brantley's parents' eyes bulged when they saw the abundance before them. "Who's supposed to eat all this, then?" his father whispered. "Are there even more people coming over?"
Brantley shook his head. "No. But we freeze the leftovers and eat the
m for lunches for a month. It doesn't go to waste, Dad."
Dad relaxed.
Mama wasn't too worried about the food. She was too busy being overcome with tears at the sight of so many children playing together. Harper and Ethan still squabbled at ten and eight, but they agreed on one thing. Their younger cousins were the best thing since television, and they wanted nothing more than to play with and entertain both of the little kids equally.
Fabian and Alaina didn't mind. They hero-worshipped their older counterparts. When Harper and Ethan were around, there was no room for anything else. Now that they had "Nan" and "Da," that might change. Alaina seemed particularly attached to Nan already, and she took Harper by the hand and brought her right up to Brantley's mother. "This is Nan!" she said, in a proud voice. "We're girls!"
