by Mia Kerick
It was so hard to hold myself back from beating the piss out of him right then. And my anger was only compounded by my guilt, because my biggest concern at that moment was what he was going to say to my father. Mikey had fucking attacked my partner with a baseball bat—Tris still wore the ugly bruises to prove it—and here I was fretting over what the asshole was going to spill to my dad. But I somehow pushed that issue from my mind and took a verbal swing back. “DeSalvo, you’ve got to go out and get yourself a life so you can stop obsessing over mine. And leave my father the fuck out of your plans for the future, huh?”
In a split second the grin had fallen from his face and the look in Mikey’s eyes had grown even more menacing. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, D-man. So, I’d say you should be expecting to hear from dear old Daddy soona rather than later. Unless you wanna make a quick change, you know, dump the fag and the bitch and come stay wit’ me at my place.” Were those dark eyes pleading with me? “And if ya do that, I think it’d be real inconvenient for me make that little tell-all trip to the Dalton household.”
He was trying to blackmail me. If I left Tristan and Savannah, he’d keep quiet about what he’d suspected had been going on between Tristan and me. And, yes, I loved my father, and I placed incredible importance on what he thought of me. But I had to hang onto the shred of hope that I could stay with Tristan and Savannah and somehow talk my way out of any complications with my father.
Chapter 34
Tristan
TRUST was definitely my biggest issue when it came to Robby, as well as when it came to the entire human race, to be more accurate, but Robby was the person in question right now.
He and Savannah kept me company as I cooked dinner. I was trying out a new recipe, chicken croquettes with Creole sauce, that I’d read about in a home magazine I’d picked up to pass the time while I rode the subway to and from work. I hoped it came out as good as it looked in the picture, but we had indulged in several bottles of white wine Robby had brought home to go with dinner, and I was already a bit tipsy.
“I’ll make a salad,” Savi said, pulling her bare feet from Robby’s lap where she’d been resting them. I loved seeing how close they’d grown. It made me confident that neither of them felt insecure, like a third wheel, in our relationship of three, which had become a concern of mine ever since the romance had deepened between Robby and me. Savannah got up and went to get a chopping board. And soon she was talking. “I, um, I took the second semester off from school.”
She had her back to us now, so she couldn’t see the way we were both gaping at her in disbelief. Being a guidance counselor had always been her dream.
“See, there’s this group home for troubled teens in Boston that’s looking for a person to supervise the residents for both short- and long-term stays. It would be an excellent experience for me, it’d look great on my resume, and I-I really want to do it.”
After a brief but definitely awkward silence, Robby spoke up. “Would it be safe for you?”
Relieved that she had a question to focus on, she rattled off her answer. “Oh yeah. These kids are more troubled in the sense that they have been abused or neglected and have trouble fitting into society. Many of them are runaways and kids who don’t have a foster family, or it didn’t work out with the foster family they had.” She started to chop rather violently at the salad vegetables that I’d put on the counter earlier.
“How will you work this out with school?” Again, Robby being Mr. Sensible.
“My professors are actually encouraging me to do it. They are going to look into whether or not I can get some credits for it, say, if I do a presentation on my experience for the department at the end.”
“Will it affect your scholarship?”
“No, I already checked. Everything would just be deferred until next semester. And I’d make a little money doing it—not much, but it would be something.” Her voice sounded so hopeful.
Too bad I was going to crush her hopes. “You don’t need to work—I take care—I mean, Robby and I take care of you, Savi.”
Savannah spun around, knife and tomato still in hand. “Don’t you get it, Tristan? This is something I want to do—something I have to do. Please don’t try to stop me.”
She looked absolutely panic-stricken.
Have I done this to her? Have I made her feel this anxious?
“Please, Tris.”
Right then, Robby got up and came to stand next to me at the counter. So I turned my back to both of them, staring at the croquettes as if the solution to my problems could be found there. I felt Robby move up behind me, sort of spooning me while standing up and rubbing my pounding chest at the same time. He didn’t say anything; he just let me feel the comfort of his presence.
Maybe he’s trying to show me that I can trust him.
I took a deep breath and then sucked down a gulp of wine. “Go ahead and do it, Savannah. I mean, you should do it. You can really help a lot of people. After all, look what you did for me.”
Robby’s arms tightened around my chest. He leaned in close and murmured into my ear, “It’ll be fine. We’ll be fine.”
And right then I knew I had the strength to face Savannah. Yeah, maybe some of the strength came through Robby, but I think much of it came from inside me as well. Robby released me as I turned to her, and then I had to smile because she’d put down the knife but still clung to that poor, now-squished tomato. Her eyes were dry but very wide, and she held her body stiffly.
“I’m sorry for what I’ve done to you for the past few years, Savi. I’m so sorry.”
“No, you haven’t done anything to me except love me and take care of me—”
“Yes, I have,” I replied quickly, cutting off her words. “I’ve been selfish. I’ve kept you in the same safe little box that I wanted to live in. And I shouldn’t have, but until now, until Robby, you were the only light in my life and I just needed you so badly. I thought I had to clutch on to you tightly, or I’d lose you.”
Savannah stepped forward, her expression fierce. “You will never lose me. Never. We are family.”
“I know. And I think both of us need to step out of that little box that I kept us in. I mean, I think it’s time.”
She reached up and I bent down a bit, so she could hug me around the neck. “I will never leave you alone, not in the way that really counts.” She touched the place on my chest over my heart.
Robby cleared his throat. “So I guess that’s where I came in, huh?”
We both looked at him, and I admit, we did so somewhat guiltily. What could we say to that? He was right. Clearly, Savannah had been looking at Robby to fulfill me, and I had been looking at him to fulfill Savannah. We had both been very selfish.
“I’m not saying that I mind. I’m just trying to add it all up so it makes sense.” He actually smiled. “And look what I got out of the deal, the best friend a guy could ever hope for, and a man who I’m in love with.”
Emotional overload. I had to sit down. So I pushed past both of them and plunked myself down on the chair Robby had been sitting in. But I wasn’t alone for long. Both of my partners came to my side, Savannah hugging me around the neck, and Robby kneeling down at my feet.
And then it hit me. Tristan Chartrand, the lonely teenage runaway/prostitute/street urchin, had everything any man could hope for. All I had to do now was allow myself to fully trust—in the fact that Savannah would always be there for me, as well as in Robby’s love. I thought that maybe today’s revelation had been a small step in that direction, but then again, trusting men had never gotten me very far.
“So, Savi, tell me, when do you leave for the group home?”
Chapter 35
Robby
SO, I guess I was ready for it when he called. I mean, I was as ready as a guy could be. But who is actually ever fully prepared to inform his he-man of a father that he’s gay? I held on to the hope that there was a way around that kind of revelation.
“Rob, it’s y
our father.”
I had caller ID so that wasn’t news to me. “Hi, Dad.”
“We need to talk.” His voice was gruff. “Today.”
I slowly blew out the breath I was holding. “About anything in particular?”
He didn’t answer. But he sounded impatient as he repeated himself. “Today.”
“Want to meet for lunch?”
“Now. I want to meet you right now.”
Sitting at the kitchen table this morning, debating with Tristan the Bruins’ chances of making it to the Stanley Cup, I’d sucked down way too much coffee. Three big mugs of coffee, in fact, because I couldn’t bear to drag myself away from the man. Way too much caffeine in the veins; that must’ve been why I was feeling so jittery right then. Right, that has to be it. “S-sure.”
“You know where the Egg Shell Diner is, in Saugus?”
The Egg Shell? Did that old place still exist? “Yes, I’ve been there, I think.”
“Well, be there in half an hour.”
“Okay, see ya soon, Dad.”
I didn’t receive a “good-bye, son.” He just hung up.
MY FATHER had chosen an out-of-the-way diner to hold this meeting. And he was already inside the restaurant when I arrived, sitting at an out-of-the-way booth, way off in a back corner, which further enhanced my already elevated feelings of trepidation. A dark, shadowy corner where there was no chance that anyone, had there been another soul eating in this tacky diner, would overhear our conversation. He was already mostly finished downing a giant plate of scrambled eggs and bacon.
Thanks for waiting for me to order, Dad. Yes, I thought that little slice of sarcastic commentary. What I actually said was “Good to see you, Dad. How are the eggs here?”
“Sit down.” Dad clearly wasn’t here to discuss the Egg Shell Diner’s greasy home cooking, though. “We need to talk.”
Okaaaay….
I knew what he really meant was that he was going to tell me shit and I was going to listen and obey. Perspiration broke out on my forehead. I sat down across from him and nodded.
A waitress, notepad in hand, made an attempt to approach our table in a futile effort to take my breakfast order, but she was brusquely waved away by my father. He took his napkin off the table and roughly wiped his lips, and then he ran his hands through his thick mop of graying sandy-colored hair, in a manner not too different from Tris when he was nervous. The similarities to Tristan ended there. After straightening his thick shoulders, he leaned in over the table, stared right at me with his piercing blue eyes, and jammed a knife into my heart.
“You, Rob, are the biggest disappointment in my life.”
No, it hadn’t been his actual butter knife with which he’d stabbed me, but I almost wished it had been. I suspected that even its dull blade would have hurt far less than those words.
I couldn’t breathe. In fact, I felt as if a giant had poked a long straw into my chest and sucked all the air out of my lungs, leaving a gasping, suffocating shell of Robby Dalton sitting across from his disgusted father in this greasy spoon. “D-Dad, but, Dad….”
“I worked hard to raise you and your sister with proper Christian morals.”
I nodded emphatically in agreement, although I couldn’t remember ever setting foot in a church when I was a kid. Or being reminded to say my prayers when my parents had tucked me into bed at night.
“I thought I’d done a decent job with both of you, until recently.” He wiped his mouth with the napkin again, and then rubbed it over each of his fingertips, one by one. “I got a rather, uh, disturbing and enlightening telephone call from Michael DeSalvo last night.”
Yup. I knew where this was going. I gulped in a big breath. “And what did Mikey have to say?”
My father shoved the plate holding scattered remnants of his eggs and bacon toward the middle of the table with obvious disgust. “I’m not going to mince words with you, son.” He continued to look directly into my eyes as he sharpened his next verbal dagger. “Mike told me that you have been, let’s say, overly affectionate with a queer.” My face froze, certainly wearing an expression of unmitigated horror, but Dad wasn’t finished yet, and not by a long shot. As I struggled to remove his most recent dagger from my heart, he continued his assault. “You’ve fucking moved in with that pansy, haven’t you?”
I’d thought I’d prepared myself to deal with any nastiness the man could possibly shell out. I’d been wrong.
Could one man’s mere words possess sufficient power to taint the purity of newly discovered love? At that moment, I found it very likely. The memories of my closeness to Tristan suddenly seemed cheap and dirty. Perverse, even. I shoved the ethereal beauty of Tristan’s face from my brain.
“Don’t you have anything to say for yourself, Rob? I’m sincerely hoping that you can clear up this little, um, misconception that Mike has regarding your, uh, your relationship with this… this person.”
This person? Vulnerable, caring, entirely selfless, but not yet trusting Tristan. And apparently for very good reason. “I don’t know if Tristan Chartrand is a faggot or not, and I really don’t give a shit either, Dad. I’m stuck with him because he’s my girlfriend’s roommate. What do you expect me to do? Kick him out of his own fucking place just ’cause I want to be able to get busy on the living room couch with Savannah whenever the mood strikes me?” I was the king of cowards; my words had just proved it.
My father smiled, though only slightly. It was actually much more of an ugly, but very satisfied, sneer. “Spending so much time with that boy is indecent. It’s actually rather revolting, in my opinion, even if that girl is around. Am I making myself clear?”
As a crystal, Dad. “Of course, and I already knew I was gonna have to kick those two to the curb at some point; I’ll just have to make my move sooner, rather than later.”
I’d pretty much given my father every single thing he’d wanted from me every single day of my life. I’d allowed him to run my athletic life all through my school years, to drive my college plans, and even, to some extent, to manipulate my career choice. I’d struggled to please him from the first time I’d picked up a T-ball bat in preschool, to each and every day when I went to work. I’d always tried so damned hard to make him proud. And this morning, without even thinking twice about it, I’d taken my heart, wrapped it up in colorful paper, and handed it to him so he could do whatever the fuck he wanted with it.
Not only had I relinquished my heart to him, but I’d also given up every last speck of my personal integrity. And I’d done it willingly, dragging Tristan and Savannah right under the bus along with me. With my good old friend Mikey’s able assistance, my father had won, like always, and the rest of us had lost. But mostly me.
I am the biggest loser of all.
As he stood up and grabbed his overcoat from the chair beside him, he once again looked at me pointedly. “Now, I want you to give that nice young man, Michael, a call, and the two of you can go out together and play like real men.” Dad chose that moment to flash me a rather jubilant smile.
I watched him stride purposefully to the restaurant’s door, poised body language demonstrating his satisfaction with the direction our conversation had taken. He seemed so huge and towering, as he always had when I was a boy.
“I’ll fix it, Dad. I will.” I spoke softly, knowing he couldn’t hear me, but realizing, simultaneously, that he didn’t need to hear my oath. My father left the restaurant completely confident that his puppet of a son would do anything and everything to avoid earning his father’s displeasure.
I placed enough cash on the table to cover Dad’s breakfast and a tip, and then staggered my way to the door in a complete daze, bringing to mind a strong feeling of déjà vu. I didn’t exactly have to scour my brain to remember dropping a wrinkled wad of cash on a different table, in a different nondescript diner several months ago, when Savannah had so bluntly informed me of how it was going to be.
And as always, it was clear that I was going to be unabl
e to please all parties involved. In itself, that knowledge tore me apart. Completely preoccupied by my worries, as soon as I stepped outside onto the diner’s icy walkway, I immediately lost my balance, slipped, and fell to my hands and knees. The frozen pavement sliced easily through my khakis to my knees, ripping the skin from my palms as well. And I just stayed in that fittingly submissive position, relishing the sharp pain in my extremities that had plucked me from my daze, but still unwilling to move as I had absolutely no clue where I would go if, in fact, I was to get up off the ground.
Chapter 36
Tristan
“I MISS you, too, Savi, but what you’re doing is important, probably even life changing for those kids.” I stirred the pasta and checked the digital clock on the oven at the same time. Robby was late. “So, call me again really soon, and when Robby comes home I’ll be sure to give him a big hug from you, ’kay?”
I ended my conversation with what Robby had lately been calling a “brave little shrug” and then drained the pasta in the sink, thinking how it really hadn’t been too difficult over the past few weeks since Savannah had moved into the group home. It was true that I missed her, and I avoided dwelling too much on the fact that she wasn’t living with us right now, but Robby had kept me very busy, probably to distract me. And I had to admit, he had been successful. We had hit the gym almost daily—with Robby’s help I’d even worked up the courage to get in the pool a few times and try my hand at swimming—and we’d watched more sports on television than I ever had before. But what did you expect with two guys living together in what Robby had started referring to as our “man-cave”?
And we’d eaten. A lot. Robby had cut out of work to take me out for lots of long lunches—Thai food, sushi, and Italian food (three times). I’d cooked on the nights I didn’t have to work, and on the nights I’d waitered, I’d brought home leftover daily specials from Michael’s. Those nights, we’d splurged on seafood smothered in buttery breadcrumbs for our midnight snacks.
