by Sean Kennedy
“What are you thinking?” Dec asked.
“Nothing!” I said quickly. Too quickly.
He looked suspicious, but our doorbell sounded.
“That must be the parents.”
“They’re early,” Dec said.
“Of course they are. It’s the first time somebody’s looking after them who isn’t their grandparent.”
“Do they think we’re incapable? We’ve looked after our nephews and nieces plenty.”
“Give them a break.”
It took Fran and Roger barely any time to get from the lift to our door.
“How are they?” Fran asked, while Roger said, “They’re okay?”
“I think they’re still alive.” I followed them to the bedroom. “The radio did say there was an escaped serial killer on the loose, and we all know what happens to the kids when the babysitter answers the phone.”
“That is not funny!” Roger’s face was white. “You can’t joke about things like that, Simon!”
“Calm down, honey,” Fran said. “It was a joke. I’m sure Simon looked after them well enough.”
“Lucky Declan was here,” Roger sniffed.
“Simon did a great job,” said my chief defender.
“Simon can speak for himself,” I said, proving it.
“Oh, don’t mind him,” Fran said, looking down into the portacot and smiling at her children. “He’s grumpy because he couldn’t enjoy himself at dinner.”
“Dinner was fine,” Roger said. “It was just adding a movie to it—we were out for too long.”
Fran rolled her eyes and started preparing the portacot for transport. “You do know we can’t keep an eye on our kids twenty-four hours a day for the rest of their lives, right?”
“Do you want a drink, Rog?” Declan asked.
“I’m fine.”
“He sounds it,” I said.
“He needs a good night’s sleep,” Fran said. “Let’s face it, so do I.”
“We could always keep them for a night,” Dec offered.
A tinge of eagerness flitted across her features but disappeared when Fran looked at her husband. “I don’t think Roger’s ready for that yet.”
“I’m not,” he agreed.
Fran sighed. “Let’s go home, then, daddy.”
We all looked at her.
She grimaced. “Okay, that just sounded wrong.”
“You can call me daddy anytime you like.” Roger grinned.
“That’s really gross,” I said.
“I totally agree.” Fran lifted the bassinet. “Get the rest of the stuff, Roger.”
As her faithful husband and the father of her children disappeared into the lounge, Fran shook her head. “Honestly. Now, are you two all ready for Saturday?”
“Saturday?” I asked innocently.
“Don’t test me,” she warned. “I’m already getting grief from my family for having two godfathers. I can easily make it one.”
Dec snorted.
“Oh, you would love that,” I said. “You wouldn’t have to share the glory.”
“Are you really getting that much grief?” Dec asked of Fran.
“My mother seems to think that if I’m having two godfathers—”
“We’re.” Roger had returned from the lounge. “We’re having two godfathers. There’s two of us making this decision, you know.”
“Yes, of course,” Fran said, placating. “But it’s not your mother objecting to it.”
“But your mother loves me!” I objected.
“She loves Dec even more,” Roger said, and covered his mouth at his faux pas.
“I don’t want to fight about this.” Fran shifted the bassinet to her other hand. “Let’s go.”
“That was weird,” I said to Dec after they had left.
“What was?”
I followed him into the bedroom. He pulled off his shirt and folded it neatly.
“Fran saying that thing about her mother?”
“What, that? It was probably nothing.” Now the pants were off and folded on top of the shirt. Clad in his trunks, he hopped into bed. He had to manoeuvre himself around Maggie, playing a game of Twister between the sheets and the cat so he could fit himself in.
“Yeah?”
He patted the space next to him. “Come on.”
I shucked out of my pants and left them on the floor. Dec winced. I rolled my eyes, and then made a big deal out of picking them up and throwing them onto the chair with his clothes. It still wasn’t as neat as he would have done it, but it was a hell of a lot more than what I usually did.
“Shirt, too,” he instructed.
“What, you want me to striptease?”
“No, I want you in here next to me.”
“I don’t require my T-shirt for that?” I teased. I knew he liked as much skin against skin as possible during sleep. It was one of his cute little quirks, which usually collided with my leave as much clothes on as possible phobia.
“Nope. Take it off.”
I did, and he wolf-whistled.
“Oh, please.” But I liked it.
I had to play the same game of Twister to get into bed without disturbing Maggie, but also to ensure Dec got the amount of skin contact he wanted. “You desperate for cuddles tonight?”
“I’m always desperate for cuddles.” To prove his point, he buried his face in my chest.
I ran my hand down his back and rested it just above his rump. “So what do you think Fran meant, then?”
His sigh was a hot wind against my skin. “It’s probably something to do with the family.”
“You don’t think it’s due to us being gay?”
He looked up. “Are you kidding? They treat us like we’re part of them. There’s never been any instance of—”
“Yeah, but it could all change when it comes to grandkids. You don’t think that maybe they’d rather the twins went to a normal home rather than the two gay guys if something happened to Roger and Fran?”
“Did I really just hear you use the word normal?”
“You know what I mean.”
“I do, but it fucking scares me. When you, of all people, use the word normal to describe other people, it shows how far we have to go still.”
“Okay, Harvey Milk, calm down.”
He rested his forehead against mine. “We’re just as normal as anybody else.”
“You think I don’t know that? Shit, you’re the most normal person I know.”
“That almost sounds like an insult.”
I kissed him. “It’s not, you daft bugger.”
“Oh, I’m a daft bugger now, am I?”
“If you are, I am.”
“That doesn’t make me feel any better.” His eyes creased with suppressed laughter.
I smacked his arse, and he burst out laughing. He smacked mine.
“Ow!”
Maggie gave us a humans are so undignified look, and ran off into the lounge for some peace and quiet.
“Fran’s mother is just probably upset that it isn’t being kept in the family. You can understand that. If anything did happen, they would want to look after them. Or Roger’s parents.”
“Should we withdraw?”
“I don’t think you can withdraw from godparenting.”
“It’s not like we signed a contract.”
“Do you not want to be a godfather?”
“I make you an offer you can’t refuse,” I said in a bad Brando accent.
“You’ve already made that joke too many times.”
I was nothing if not consistent. “Of course I want to be a godfather. Just worrying about family drama.”
“Fran and Roger want us to do this.”
And Dec really wanted it, too.
“Okay. But I’m going to try and ferret it out of Luciana.”
“You’re going to confront the grandmother at the christening? Make sure you pick your moment wisely.”
“Of course.” And I smacked him on the arse again.
He retaliated by flipping over me and holding me down while I bit lightly into his neck.
Maggie was right to flee when she did.
“DEC?” I whispered into the dark.
He didn’t stir.
I shook his shoulder. “Dec!”
He squinted at me. “What’s wrong?”
“You don’t think that maybe they think that because we’re gay and it’s hard to have kids, maybe we’re hoping something tragic will happen to our friends so we get a family ready-made?”
I saw him trying to take it in, and then he exhaled heavily. “Simon, I have to be on the field with the kids before school. Give your brain a rest.”
“I can’t help it.”
“No, I doubt that’s what they think. Is that what you think?”
“No.” I didn’t sound so sure.
“Are you planning to cut car brakes when you know Fran and Roger are both in it, or something?”
“No!”
“Then stop thinking so much. Please.” Dec closed his eyes, and his breathing became steady and deep again.
I rested my head on his shoulder and was awake for quite a while longer.
Chapter 2
WHEN DECLAN said he had to be on the field with the kids, he was referring to the teenagers he was mentoring as part of his charity, GetOut. A couple times a week before and after school they would do activities and have a meeting in which they discussed their issues du jour. That meant he was up so early in the morning, not even the birds were cracking an eye open.
I couldn’t get back to sleep once he was awake, so I ended up at work when the cleaners were still packing up.
Almost an hour later, Coby arrived, surprised to see me absorbed in spreadsheeting, rather than playing around on the net.
“Oh,” he said, clearly uncomfortable. “You’re here early.”
“Dec was out the door early, so as a consequence I ended up early as well.”
“Oh.”
“You already said that.”
“What?” He caught on. “Oh. Oh!”
“Are you okay, Coby?”
“Fine. I have work to do as well.” He disappeared into his office and shut the door between us. He had started doing this recently, and I didn’t know why. I had tried to approach him about it as both his boss and his friend, but I was unsuccessful in getting a reply that made sense with either persona.
He’s still being weird. I texted Dec.
You really have to stress about everything, don’t you? Just let him be.
I fumed for a moment. It’s annoying me.
Of course it is.
That wasn’t much of a reply. I promised myself I would “let him be” but instead started furiously punching the screen. It doesn’t make for a very productive workplace.
My phone rang. Dec always got sick of texting, whereas I could do it all day.
“Is that the angle you’re pushing now?” he asked, without preamble.
I could hear sounds of kids playing in the background—although they would probably happily murder me if they knew I referred to them as such. Soon they would go off to their respective schools, losing the camaraderie they felt being amongst other queer kids. Well, the camaraderie some of them felt. On the whole they were a good bunch of kids—with one notable exception. Micah Johnson, the only potential AFL player in the mix, was proving to be the problem child.
“It’s not an angle,” I replied. “A happy workplace is a productive workplace.”
He laughed. “The bullshit that comes out of your mouth sometimes.”
“But—”
“Look, babe, there’s nothing you can do about it. If he has a problem, he’ll either come to you or he’ll get over it and start acting normal again. You bothering him about it will only make it worse.”
“That’s not helpful whatsoever.”
“I call for the love, not the advice.”
I grinned, glad he couldn’t see me. “Get back to work, then. Did Micah turn up today?”
“He did. But he’s already pissed Emma off, and Trent threatened to spear him with the javelin.”
“He should have. It would have made great practice.”
“And that’s why I do what I do, and you do what you do. I’ve got to go. Speak later.”
I said my good-byes, and peered through the louvered windows between Coby’s office and mine. He was talking animatedly on the phone, obviously capable of communicating with other people—who weren’t me.
I slid across the room on my chair, sneaking closer to the door. The wheels on the carpet were far quieter than my footsteps could ever be.
“Look, I really should go,” Coby was saying. “No, I have work to do… yes, I know you do, too.” He laughed, and it was a silly, flirty one. “I wish I could bring you on Saturday. But it’s too soon.” There was a lengthy pause. “I know. You understand, right? Okay, I really should go…. No, he’s not a slave driver…. Of course I haven’t told him! I need more time, you know what he’s like….”
Now, I know I’m a pretty paranoid person. But even Dec would have to agree that it sounded like Coby was talking about me to whoever was on the other end of the line.
“No, I really have to go…. No, you hang up!”
The hang up game? Really?
Knowing he could come out of the office once he was off the phone, I started to slide away from the door. But as I rolled my pant leg got caught up in the chair’s wheel, and before I could do anything to stop it I was unceremoniously tipped out of my chair. I fell onto the floor as my chair crashed into my filing cabinet, and Coby’s door flew open.
“Simon, are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I said, staying on the floor.
“What are you doing?”
“I was thinking about getting new carpet.”
“New carpet?”
I sprang to my feet. “Just wanted to take a closer look. It’s getting pretty threadbare, don’t you think?”
“It looks fine to me.”
“Yeah, maybe you’re right.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yep, fine, never better. How about you?”
“Good. I have work to do.”
“Oh? It’s just… you know, I’m your boss. I kind of know how much work you have to do, as I give it to you.” I was babbling, knew it, but couldn’t stop for the life of me. “And you seem to be doing a lot more than I’m actually giving you. Or you’re taking a hell of a lot longer to do it than usual. One or the other. Why is that?”
Coby stiffened. “You have a problem with the way I’m working?”
“No, no, it’s fine. Just wondering how you’re going.”
He gave me a sarcastic thumbs-up sign. “Great!”
“Great,” I said. “Great! Everybody’s great.”
Coby shook his head, and once again shut the door between our offices.
At least I now had an explanation for why he was acting weird. He had a new boyfriend, and he didn’t want to tell me. Okay, so I had a bit of a reputation for being slightly protective of my surrogate little brother when he started seeing a guy. It wasn’t my fault Coby had a knack for dating total fuckwits, and I couldn’t be silent about it, especially when I was a witness to it time and time again. You would think somebody would be grateful if you exposed their past boyfriend for being a cheating douchebag, but, oh no, it’s just shoot the messenger.
This one would probably be a total shit too.
I have information! I texted Dec. It’s a new boyfriend. Don’t know any details.
I threw my phone onto my desk and smiled the smug smile of the amateur detective solving a case, much like Jessica Fletcher in every credit sequence to Murder, She Wrote.
DEC ENDED up calling me back rather than texting.
“Okay, spill.”
And I did.
“You were spying on him?” Dec asked. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. You have a habit of doing these things.”
“Once! And
you were meeting an ex-boyfriend. And you ended up telling me you were glad I did.”
“Okay, you were eavesdropping, then.”
“No… I just happened to hear parts of the conversation. These are very thin walls, you know.”
“They’re not that thin,” Dec reminded me. “You’d have to have your ear right up against the door—”
I ignored him. “It all makes sense.”
“What does?”
“The boyfriend theory. It’s why he’s being so weird around me. He’s scared I’m going to hate him.”
“You? Hate someone? Really?”
“I love you,” I said in a sickening voice.
“Yeah, I’m gonna go now.”
“Me too. I love you,” I said in a normal voice.
“And I adore you,” he replied.
I laughed, and hung up. Just in time, because I was surprised to see Roger was in Coby’s office, and I didn’t even know how long he’d been there for.
I wondered if I should risk eavesdropping again, but my knees were still sore from my fall, so I wisely decided against it.
After a couple of minutes the door opened and Roger stepped in. “Hi.”
“Well, this is a pleasant surprise,” I drawled. “It’s not very often you grace this threshold.”
“I was here four days ago,” he reminded me.
“Okay, ruin the moment, what’s up?”
“Are you okay?” Roger asked.
“You came in to ask me that?”
“No. But are you?”
“Yeah, fine, why?”
“Coby told me you had an accident in here earlier.”
“Oh.” By now I was pretty embarrassed. “That? That was nothing. Did he call you, or something?”
Roger shook his head and sat down. “You know, you need to take better care of yourself.”
“Uh, okay, dad. But I do take pretty good care of myself. And what I don’t do, usually Declan makes me do it.”
“Uh huh.”
“Why the sudden interest in my health and wellbeing?”
“I always have an interest in it. But more now, especially if you’re going to be my kids’ godfather.”
