by Alexa Land
My dad looked...odd. It took me a moment to pinpoint what was weird about him, then I realized it was a combination of things. His shirt, which he always wore just a little too open, was buttoned almost to his neck, his hair was parted in the middle and awkwardly slicked down, and he was wearing shoes. I wasn’t aware that he actually owned any.
Zan and Shea both started moving again at the same moment, blurting greetings and heading toward each other with their hands extended. Right before they were about to shake hands, my dad tripped over absolutely nothing and lunged forward, accidentally tackling Shea, who hit the floor with an, “Ooomph,” as my dad landed on top of him.
“Bloody hell,” Zan exclaimed, scrambling gracelessly off my boyfriend. As he hauled Shea to his feet he rambled, “Terribly sorry, lad. I reckon I’m a bit nervous. My son’s never brought a boyfriend home before. Plus, you know, I’m a bit out of practice with the whole company thing. You alright? I didn’t dent you, did I?”
Shea just stared at him for a long moment. I started to wonder if I should intervene. But then, my boyfriend burst out laughing. “Oh wow,” Shea managed. “I’m so glad you did that before I had a chance to.”
My dad chuckled at that and pulled off his shoes, then held them up as he told Shea, “It’s the fault of these damned things. Christian always teases me about looking like an old hippie, so I thought I should try to make a decent impression.”
I laughed at that, too. “So you put on espadrilles? Really?”
“That was all I could find,” Zan said with a smile, tossing the fabric shoes over his shoulder. “I figured they were better than going barefoot.” He turned toward Shea and said, “Let me try this again. Zan Tillane. Nice to meet you.”
They shook hands as Shea introduced himself and added, “It’s completely surreal to meet you. I used to sing ‘Loved You Forever’ to myself when I was little and trying to go to sleep, it was my favorite song.” He colored slightly. “Maybe that’s a weird thing to admit. Sorry. I’m pretty nervous.”
A huge smile erupted on Zan’s face. “That song was actually meant to be a lullaby. I never told anyone that. Come, let me show you how I first intended it.”
The two went into the den and sat down at the grand piano, and my father started to play a much slower, simplified version of one of his biggest hits. “Christian doesn’t know this,” Zan said as his long, slender fingers glided effortlessly over the keys, “but I wrote this song for him. I was shite as a parent when my boy was little, totally consumed by the fame monster. But part of me longed for a simpler life, the kind where I’d be home every night to tuck my kiddo in and sing him a lullaby. I came up with this song one night in some anonymous hotel room in New York, while I was missing a son I’d yet to meet.”
“I always thought it was a love song,” Shea said.
“Oh, it is. Just not the kind everyone assumed.” When Zan started to sing, I felt like I was hearing the words for the first time, instead of the thousandth.
Emotions welled up in me and I mumbled, “We’ve been here three minutes and already you’re trying to make me cry. I’m getting a drink.”
As I went to the little bar in the corner and poured myself a whiskey, my dad’s voice washed over me and gave me goose bumps. It was still absolutely gorgeous, clear and resonant, totally undiminished by time. As he performed for Shea, I could suddenly picture that other Zan, the superstar known to millions, up on stage.
I moved to the couch and watched the two of them as they bonded. Shea was awestruck, watching Zan with rapt attention. “If you know the words,” my dad told him, “sing along with me.”
Shea joined in shyly, quietly. His voice was surprisingly good. They harmonized perfectly on the chorus: loved you before I met you/never could forget you/wouldn’t ever try.
When they reached the end of the song, Shea asked gently, “Why’d you stay away from Christian for such a long time?”
“It was his mother’s idea. Partly, she didn’t want him to grow up with the paparazzi always breathing down his neck. She saw what the fame thing was doing to me and she didn’t want any part of that for her son. Also though, she didn’t think I could commit to him. I was never able to maintain a relationship for very long, so she took that to mean I was flighty and untrustworthy. She was afraid Christian would get attached to me and then I’d just blow him off. Like I did with her,” Zan admitted, looking down at his hands, which hand stilled on the keys.
“I’m sorry you had to miss out on his childhood,” Shea said. “I’ll bet Christian was a really special kid.”
“Special,” I repeated with a smirk. “Like, short bus special?”
“He was the cutest little bugger to ever walk on two legs,” my dad said, ignoring my efforts to offset some of the sentimentality that had taken hold of the room. “I have pictures around here somewhere, let me find them.” Zan got up and rummaged around on his cluttered bookshelves until he produced a white, leather-bound album. He sat down beside Shea again and said, “His mum would send me photos several times a year. Have you ever seen any of Christian’s baby pictures?”
Shea grinned delightedly as my dad flipped back the cover. “Oh, come on!” I exclaimed, crossing the room to stand behind them and look over their shoulders. “You’re showing my boyfriend baby pictures? Really? I’m so totally withdrawing your membership in the Cool Dad Club. Your new place is over there with the Dork Dads Contingent. You already had a charter membership just based on whatever it is that you did to your hair today.”
My Dad chuckled at that and ran the fingers of his left hand through his slicked-down locks, creating a messy, off-center part and flipping his hair over to the right. “Just trying to make a good impression, boyo. Wouldn’t want you embarrassed by the old man.”
“But embarrassing me with baby pictures, that’s fine.” I peered over his shoulder. “Mom sent you a photo of me dressed like Shirley Temple? What the hell?”
Shea chuckled at that and my dad said, “Oh no, not Shirley Temple. You just happened to have curly hair. You were actually dressed like one of the Olsen twins from Full House.”
“My God why?” I asked, horrified.
“It was a phase,” Zan explained.
Shea burst out laughing, so hard I thought he might hurt himself. “Oh my God, that’s awesome,” he managed as he wiped away tears with the back of his hand. “Most embarrassing kid picture ever.”
I chuckled at that and told him, “This is so unfair. When do I get to see your baby pictures? I’m sure there are plenty of embarrassing shots of you, too.”
“Yeah, but come on. How could anything top a cross-dressing four-year-old Olsen twin wanna-be?”
“I’m definitely having another drink.” I left the two of them to the ridiculousness of young Christian, boy of a thousand bad ideas all captured on film, and refilled my glass. I then settled on the couch and watched the two of them. They had an easy rapport that I wouldn’t have predicted. Zan and Shea were very different people, after all. But then I realized something: the fact that they both loved me gave them a lot of common ground.
I used my toes to push my black Chucks off my feet, then curled up in a corner of the big couch and sipped my drink. After they made it through the album, Zan started playing the piano again and he and Shea sang several of my dad’s biggest hits. Shea knew all the words, which was surprising. “You would have made a fine performer, lad,” Zan told him at one point. “That’s quite the set of pipes.”
“Thanks, that means a lot coming from you,” Shea said as my eyelids got heavy. “I could never get up on stage in front of people, though. I’m way too shy for that.”
*****
Apparently I drifted off, because sometime later I awoke to find myself covered in a blanket, the lights in the room turned down low and a soft breeze stirring the air. My ever-present headache was thrumming a bit more persistently tonight for some reason. I waited to see if it would ease off.
I heard voices and looked out the wal
l of windows to my right. The back door was open and my dad and boyfriend were sitting on the small deck right off the den, illuminated by the soft glow of a lantern on the iron table before them. They had their backs to me and my dad was patting Shea’s shoulder.
My boyfriend sounded emotional, his words drifting to me on the breeze. “How can you stand it, Mr. Tillane? How can you stand knowing he’s dying? The pain just wants to swallow me whole. It hurts so bad that I don’t even know how to cope with it.”
“Now laddie, I told you to call me Zan. As for the rest of it, I’ll tell you how I cope: by believing in miracles with all my heart and soul. I never was what you’d call the religious sort, but I do believe in a higher power. And every day since I found out my baby boy was sick, I’ve been praying to the powers that be and begging for divine intervention. I just have to believe something’s going to happen before it’s too late. The doctors will find a treatment, or some new cure will be discovered. There’s no rhyme or reason why an otherwise healthy boy in his twenties should be struck down in the prime of life like that! Not with all the advancements in modern medicine. Every single day they’re making new discoveries. One of them is bound to help my son.”
I sighed quietly. No wonder my dad never wanted to talk about finding a caregiver to replace me. He was living so deep in denial that as far as he was concerned, I wasn’t going anywhere. And since when did he have any faith whatsoever in the medical profession? He refused to see doctors and flat-out rejected everything they’d tried to do to help him with his bipolar disorder.
“I hope you’re right,” Shea said softly.
“I am. You just have to believe, it’s simple as that.”
After a pause, Shea said, “I keep messing up around him. I’m trying so hard not to treat him differently, but I keep catching myself doing it anyway. The other day I actually took a jar out of his hands and opened the stuck lid for him before I realized what I was doing. Christian hates stuff like that so much. He doesn’t want people to treat him like he’s helpless. I’m getting so frustrated with myself.”
“It’s understandable to behave that way,” Zan told him. “I was the same way when I first found out. My every impulse was to coddle him. You’re right though, he can’t stand that and it’ll just make him withdraw from us. Let’s face it, you and I are the people he needs most, so we just need to figure out ways of being supportive without babying him.”
“Thanks for talking to me about all of this. Since he wants to keep it a secret, I haven’t told any of my friends or family what’s happening to Christian. It’s been a lot to hold inside.”
“Give me your phone, son,” my father said. I could hear a faint rustling and then he said, “I’m putting my number in here for you. I’m not the best at answering my phone when I go into one of my dark periods. But you can always leave a message and I’ll call you back. This is too much to bear on your own.”
“Thank you so much, Zan. I really appreciate that.”
“I want to say one thing to you, Shea, before Christian wakes up and jumps on me for being a sentimental old fool. You’re exactly what I’ve always wanted for my son. You’re kind and decent and easy on the eyes, and it’s obvious that you love him with all your heart. I know you didn’t exactly come into each other’s lives at an ideal time, but I’m so happy you found each other all the same. He needs you. Not because he’s sick, but because he deserves to be happy. He told you what happened when he was seventeen and went away to that other college, yeah?”
“Yes.”
“I honestly don’t know why that boy should have to endure so much suffering in his life. I really don’t. But the point I’m trying to make is that it was hard for him for a long time after that. I thought he might never learn to trust again or open himself up to another person. But then he found you, and you changed him, Shea. You brought love into his life and I’m so incredibly grateful to you for turning the light back on in his eyes.”
“Thank you for saying that. You’re a wonderful dad, by the way. My own parents would rather pretend I don’t exist than accept the fact that I’m gay. And here you are, giving your son and me so much support.”
“It’s the least any parent could do for the child they love. Now come on, son,” my dad said as he got to his feet. “It’s getting a bit nippy out here. Let’s go back inside and rouse sleeping beauty. We don’t have long before midnight and Christian won’t want to miss it. He likes to pretend that holidays and celebrations are no big deal, but deep down, he loves them. He’s just a kid at heart. I tend to think it’s because his childhood was less than ideal, so he makes up for it wherever he can.”
“Did you know his stepdad was an alcoholic?”
“Not until the day Christian showed up at my door when he was fifteen and told me all about it, then asked to live with me. His mother certainly didn’t discuss her home life with me, and you know how my boy is. He keeps stuff bottled up inside, he never wants to tell anyone how bad things really are. I would have gotten him out of there years sooner if I’d had any idea of the shite he was forced to endure.”
When they stepped inside, Shea exclaimed, “Oh, you’re awake.”
I got to my feet, pulled my boyfriend into an embrace and planted a big kiss on his lips. Then I told him, “I love you, Shea.”
When I let go of him, I gave my father a hug and kissed his cheek. “I love you too, Dad. I’m really lucky to have you both in my life.”
Zan smirked at me when I let go of him. “In other words, you overheard our entire conversation. Thought you knew better than to eavesdrop, boyo.”
“I only heard the last couple minutes, through no fault of my own. You’re both cold to the touch, by the way. What were you thinking, sitting outside at this time of year?”
“It’s really peaceful out there,” Shea said, pulling the sleeves of his dark blue sweater over his cold hands and then rubbing his pink nose with his knuckle.
“Why don’t the two of you clear away the hoarder-like pileup of books and DVDs around the fireplace and get a fire going while I make some coffee?” I said as I headed to the kitchen.
“He completely changed the subject away from his eavesdropping,” Shea said to my dad, and I grinned and kept walking.
While the two of them did as I suggested, I pulled the coffee maker out of a cabinet and placed it on the counter, then located my stash. Zan wasn’t a coffee drinker. I always found it baffling that any adult human on this planet could live without coffee, but whatever. I tossed a bag of ground beans on the counter, then went to open a drawer to find the little measuring scoop I’d left there. I missed the wide drawer pull on the first try, which was weird. Apparently I wasn’t quite awake yet. Good thing I was making coffee.
The little plastic measuring scoop was right where I left it. I went to pick it up by its slender handle, but I missed and ended up pushing it across the drawer bottom with my fingertips. I whispered, “What the hell?” and tried again. The results were the same. Suddenly I realized what was happening and murmured, “Oh God.” Panic rose up in me, constricting my chest.
When Zan and Shea found me in the kitchen sometime later, I was rooted to the same spot, my hands splayed out on the stone countertop, tears streaming down my face. “Christian, what’s wrong?” Shea asked, rushing to my side.
“It’s starting to happen,” I told him, looking into his big, worried eyes. “My doctor had been so good about predicting the progression of my tumor. He was confident it’d be another six months.”
“What wasn’t supposed to happen?” Zan asked, coming around the counter to stand beside us.
“My motor skills are breaking down,” I whispered. “It’s the beginning of the end.”
Chapter Twenty
My revelation ruined New Year’s pretty thoroughly. Shea and I went home soon after that, since all of us were too upset to celebrate. I called and left a message for my doctor as soon as I got home and found out from his service that he was on vacation through
the following week. It took me four tries and two misdials before I was able to place that call. My fingers just wouldn’t do what I told them to.
On January second, I picked up Chance and took him to Skye and Dare’s apartment, and then I ruined everyone’s day. I came clean about everything that was happening to me. Now that my condition had been made visible, I knew it was just a matter of time before they noticed, so I couldn’t keep it to myself any longer. All three of them had identical expressions of devastation as I quietly recited the facts.
When I stopped talking, they all grabbed me in an embrace. Skye started sobbing, his face buried against my neck. Chance held on to me tightly, his slender body trembling. Dare asked, his arms around me, “Is there anything we can do to help?”
“There’s nothing to be done,” I told him. “Thanks, though.”
“We knew you must have had a good excuse for missing your best friend’s wedding,” he said, “but Skye and I never expected it to be something like this.”
“I shouldn’t have kept it a secret so long. I’m sorry, Skye.” I kissed his forehead and he sat up and looked at me, wiping his wet cheeks with the back of his hand.
“Oh God, Christian. How can this be happening? It feels like a bad dream and I just want to wake up.”
“I know,” I told him, stroking his overgrown blue hair. “I’ve felt that way for the last three years.”
“So you’ve always known, the whole time we’ve been friends. Yet you never said anything,” his eyes searched my face, looking for answers that weren’t there.
“I thought if I just went away before it got bad it’d make it easier on you. It wasn’t supposed to affect me so soon.”
Chance straightened up and looked at me. It made my heart ache to see the pain in his big, blue eyes. “Does Shea know?” he asked me.
“Yeah. I accidentally let it slip on Christmas. Worst timing imaginable. Other than him and my parents, no one else knows.” I looked at Dare and asked, “Would it be really awful of me to ask you to spread the word? I want Trevor, River and Zandra to know, along with their partners. Nana too, of course. But every time I talk about this, it just destroys me.”
