I could only stare at the collage Holden created on the large canvas, my heart racing with joy and pride for both the love I saw smiling back at me from the painting, and the talent it took to make it feel so lifelike and real. “We’re hanging this over the fireplace mantel,” I announced. “I want to look at it every day of my life.”
“I’m so happy you like it.”
“It’s stunning. I love it,” I said as we made our way back upstairs. “It’s the most thoughtful gift anyone has ever given me.”
I helped Rush remove the existing piece of art over the fireplace and replace it with the story of us. There we were, as kids and grown men, with love and hope shining in our eyes. The boys had no idea of the pain and anguish they would face, the loneliness of missing the pieces that made them whole. The men knew, and they smiled brighter and loved harder because of it.
We made a nest of couch cushions and blankets on the floor next to the fireplace then stripped each other down and made slow, sweet love. Every touch, kiss, and slow glide of our damp bodies sliding together felt both familiar and new, just like the painting. The way I clung to Rush’s body was familiar, but the gasp I emitted when he slid inside me sounded different. Old and new; new and old. Perfection.
As we drove past the county line minutes away from our childhood home, Lincoln reached over from the driver’s seat to squeeze my hands. I thought it was ironic that John Denver’s iconic song “Take Me Home, Country Roads” came on at that exact moment. Home. I had stopped thinking of it as home when my parents made it clear I was never welcomed back into the house I was raised in. Jules became my home, followed by Will and Racheal. I later adopted Nigel and Kent, and then Lincoln walked back into my life and brought several amazing people with him. As far as I was concerned, my family was complete, with the exception of the son or daughter I wanted to have with Linc. I didn’t want, or need, a reconciliation with the man and woman who brought me into the world then rejected me for not being what they wanted. I refused to waste my time on conditional love when I knew how wonderful unconditional love felt.
“I love you, Rush.”
I turned my hand over and linked our fingers. “I love you too.”
“Listen, we don’t have to stay if it becomes too much. Just say the word and we’re gone.”
I planned to tell him that I’d be fine, because I didn’t anticipate feeling much of anything beyond indifference, but then Linc made the final turn that brought us to the edge of town. I expected the town to have changed in my absence, but it hadn’t. It looked the exact same as the day Jules and I hitched a ride in the pouring rain to the bus station in the next town over. If the town looked the same, then would the same archaic ideals exist too? Just like that, I was back in the body of the scared kid who was afraid to walk or talk a certain way, or let anyone know how fucking much I loved the guy sitting next to me. I could’ve been bullied beyond belief, branded a pervert or deviant, and possibly beaten—or worse.
“Breathe, babe.” Lincoln’s voice calmed me and brought me back to the present. My eyes refocused, and I saw that we were stopped at the only traffic light. “They can’t hurt us now.”
“You’re right.”
“Even so, I’ll turn this rental car right around. We’ll change our flight plans to—”
“No,” I said, cutting him off. “Your mom is eager to see us and show us the video of her performance last week.”
Linc groaned. “Maybe she forgot about it already.”
“Linc, that’s so mean.”
“Babe, I’ve sat through so many plays, concerts, and chorus performances for my kids. I never thought I’d do the same for my mom, but it’s only fair after all my sporting events she sat through over the years.”
I, for one, couldn’t wait to see our child singing in their music programs or forgetting their line in the school plays. “You’re going to do it all over again, you know,” I said confidently.
“Yes, I do. It’s good that you know now that I’m going to grumble about it, and you can find interesting ways for rewarding my good behavior.”
“Yeah?” I asked. I glanced over and spotted our old favorite haunt. “Oh wow! Scoops is still in business.”
“I stopped there the night before I reconnected with you. I thought about the way you used to stretch out your allowance to get as much penny candy as you could.”
“I’ll take five of these, ten of these, and five of those,” I said, pretending to point at candy in a glass display. “How much money do I have left?”
“That’s the memory,” Linc said, chuckling.
“Damn, that feels like a thousand years ago. Hell, I forgot about that until now.”
“You probably blocked out a lot of bullshit out of self-preservation. I’m just happy you didn’t block me too.” Linc released a shaky breath and said, “I ran into your father on my way out too.”
I turned and looked at him in surprise. “You didn’t say anything.”
“At first, I was too focused on kissing you, then I thought there was no point in upsetting you.”
“Why? Did he call me his fag son?”
“No,” Linc said then told me about the encounter. “He and your mom will be the ones answering to God someday, Rush. I firmly believe that.”
“Thank you for sticking up for me.”
“You’ve always been the best part of me, Rush.”
I wanted to say more, but Linc had pulled in front of his mom’s condo at the retirement village, which appeared to be the only new thing about the town. I settled for giving him a kiss that lingered for a few seconds. When we pulled back, Lillian stood on the porch waving at us. I’d talked to her on the phone many times, but I half-expected our first face-to-face encounter to be a little awkward. I was so wrong. Lillian met me with open arms and held on for a long time.
“Mom, let’s go inside where it’s warm to hug it out.”
“Oh, you!” she said, waving the dish towel she held in her hands. “Just for that, Rush gets first pick of the fried chicken pieces.”
Knowing how much Linc loved drumsticks, I licked my lips dramatically and said, “I think I want the drumsticks.” Linc was too busy staring at my mouth and picturing other dirty things I could do with it to react.
“I made homemade biscuits too,” she said, leading the way inside. “Lincoln, I upgraded the furniture package to include a sofa bed. I hope it’s not too uncomfortable for you boys to sleep on tonight.”
“It’ll do, Mama,” he said, his voice picking up a hint of his old Southern accent. “You’ll fill my belly with your good cooking, and I’ll sleep like a rock.”
“You always did anyway,” she said, patting his cheek. “Does he still sleep like the dead, Rush?”
“For the most part,” I told her, not bothering to clarify that he sure seemed to wake up at my slightest touch. Regardless of how accepting of our relationship she was, I was certain she didn’t want to hear about random blow jobs or hand jobs at two in the morning.
“Mmm hmmm,” she said with a twinkle in her eye that let me know she knew exactly what I’d left unsaid. “Make yourselves comfortable while I pour you a glass of sweet tea.”
“Oh, you always made the best sweet tea, Miss Lillian.” I couldn’t find sweet tea worth drinking in Chicago. “I hope you made a lot.” I could drink a few gallons all by myself.
Lillian chuckled then said, “I made plenty. This one,” she pointed to Linc, “told me that he can’t get good tea either.” She brought us both a tall glass. “At least I don’t have to remind you to pee before bedtime so that you don’t wet the bed.”
“We outgrew bedwetting a few years ago,” Linc teased. He leaned closer and put his lips to my ear when she walked back into the kitchen. “Our sheets have a different kind of wet spot these days.”
I nearly choked on my sip of tea. “Be good,” I demanded when I stopped sputtering. “Maybe you want me to choke to death so that you can have all the tea.”
“I’
d rather choke you with my big…”
“Here’s some snacks, boys,” Lillian said, completely unaware of the dirty things her son had just whispered in my ear.
I was going to make him pay for that. My mind had already started to formulate a plan of how I could draw out his pleasure and make him squirm on that damn sofa bed. I was sure I could find something in my overnight bag to use as a makeshift gag so he wouldn’t wake his mother when he blew his wad.
“Mmmm, mixed nuts,” Linc said cheerfully, accepting the bowl from Lillian. “Thanks, Mom.” He immediately started digging around for his favorite kind. The phone rang and Lillian went into the kitchen to pick up the cordless phone off the counter.
“Stop eating all the cashews,” I told him. “I like them too.” I tried to reach for a handful, but he jerked the bowl away. “Real mature, Linc.”
“Hey, they don’t put many cashews in the mixed nuts and you know they’re the only kind of nuts I like.”
“I can think of another set of salty nuts that you can’t get enough of,” I reminded him. Linc loved playing with my balls, and there were a few times that he almost made me shoot just from sucking and rubbing them. “How would you like it if I jerked them away?”
“Here,” Linc said, looking contrite. “I’ll share my nuts with you.”
“That would make really sweet wedding vows,” I told him.
“Oh my!” Lillian said, returning to the living room in time to catch the tail end if our conversation. “You’re getting married? Why didn’t you tell me? Who proposed and how?”
“Ummm,” Linc and I both said at the same time.
“Oh no,” Linc’s mom said, a look of horror washing over her sweet features. “I’m so sorry for jumping to conclusions like that.”
“It’s okay, Lillian,” I assured her.
“Don’t get me wrong, Mama. I don’t see a future where I’m not married to Rush, but we haven’t made any arrangements yet.” Linc looped his arms around my shoulders and pulled me closer. I awarded his sweet gesture with a kiss on the cheek.
“I won’t be one of those nagging mothers,” she said. “You’ll know when the time is right to get married.”
“Who called?” Linc asked, changing the subject.
“Oh, um… a friend.”
“What kind of friend?” Linc asked suspiciously after his mom blushed and looked flustered. “The male kind? Do you have a boyfriend?”
“What if I have a girlfriend?” she asked. “Ever think that the apple didn’t fall far from the tree?”
“Really?” Linc and I asked at the same time.
“No,” she said, snapping Linc in the leg with the damp towel.
“Ouch,” he said, rubbing the spot above his knee.
“I’d expect two gay men to be a little more open-minded though and not assume that it was a gentleman calling on me.”
“Mom, are you dating someone?”
“We’re just friends,” she said haughtily.
“Where have we heard that before?” I asked Linc, earning a crack on my leg with the towel too. “Ouch!”
“You’re part of our family now and subject to the same punishments,” Lillian told me. Damn, no wonder Linc liked to smack my ass when he was trying to prove a point. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree.
“Yes, ma’am,” I said contritely.
“Carl is a recent widower and we’ve formed a friendship, but that’s all.” Lillian ran a hand over her hair. “I’m too old to date.”
“You’re only sixty-seven, Mama. I’d hardly call that old. Why don’t you invite Carl over for dinner so Rush and I can interrogate—I mean meet—him.”
“Well, I’m not sure we’re at that stage of our relationship yet, dear.”
“Mama, you deserve to be happy wherever you can find it. Please call Carl and invite him to dinner.”
“Well, okay.” She started to turn back into the kitchen but thought better of it. “You’ll behave yourself, right?”
“Define behave?” Linc asked.
“You won’t tell embarrassing stories about me, will you?”
“What embarrassing stories?” Linc asked, looking and sounding like he couldn’t think of a single incident.
“The time I nearly broke my neck getting out of the shower after a spider descended on its web in front of me.”
“Oh yeah.”
“You won’t be telling him about that, right?”
“Nah,” Linc said. “That’s just one story.”
“Or the time I locked my keys in the car and had to walk home two miles from the store in the dead of August because your dad turned the ringer off so it wouldn’t disturb him while he was watching the Braves.”
“Damn, how’d I forget that one? You were a hot, sweaty mess when you got home. One of your heels had broken off, and you walked up the driveway unevenly.”
“I don’t want Carl to know about that either.”
“Okay,” Linc said, holding up his hand. “I won’t tell either of those.”
Lillian looked at him suspiciously because we both recognized the orneriness shining in his dark eyes. “What will you talk about?”
“The usual stuff, like what kind of season we expect the Braves to have, what kind of chances the Vols have at winning a national championship, and whether or not the Titans will ever make it to the playoffs again.”
“You’re assuming the man likes sports,” Lillian said.
“Well, does he?”
“Yes, but that’s not the point. You’re making assumptions based on gender again.” She quirked her brow in disapproval.
“Mama, call the man and invite him for dinner,” Linc said. “I’ll let Carl guide the conversation.”
“Well, okay. If you’re sure.”
“I am,” Lincoln said.
“You better not embarrass your mom,” I said when she went into the kitchen to call Carl. I knew damn well he was up to no good, regardless of that angelic face he made.
Carl turned out to be a really sweet guy. It was obvious he’d known about mine and Linc’s relationship, and he seemed to be cool with it. As Linc promised, he let Carl steer the conversation while Lillian put the finishing touches on supper. I offered to help but Lillian wouldn’t hear of it, so I remained tucked in close to Linc while we got to know her beau. Carl mostly talked about where he was from and why he chose this retirement community to live after his wife died.
“I guess it was fate,” he said smiling up at Lillian. “I’m really happy here.”
“We’re happy that you’re here too,” Linc said kindly.
Lillian set an amazing table of fried chicken that was crispy on the outside but juicy and tender on the inside. She served it with mashed potatoes and homemade gravy that was better than any I’d found in a restaurant. I absolutely despised lima beans, but I ate some anyway since she went to the trouble. For me, the best part was snagging one of Linc’s drumsticks and eating homemade biscuits until I felt like a brick had settled in my stomach. I had no regrets.
After we ate, we gathered in the living room with cups of coffee to talk some more. Carl was a really neat guy with so many different experiences over his seventy-two years. After about an hour, he looked at his watch and set his cup down on the coffee table.
“I should be heading back home.” Carl stood up and offered his hand to Linc then me. “It was really nice meeting you boys. I look forward to getting to know you better.”
“Likewise,” I said to Carl.
“Any friend of Mama’s is a friend of mine,” Linc said good-naturedly, placing his hand on Carl’s shoulder. I thought I had mistaken Linc’s mischievous grin from earlier, and that Lillian was going to coast through the night without Carl learning any of her secrets, but I should’ve known better. “Say, Carl, did Mama ever tell you about the time that she snuck around the side of the house with the garden hose to spray me and drenched the mailman instead?”
“Lincoln Huxley!” she said, ringing her hands. I
could tell she wanted to snatch that towel right off the table and whack him with it, but she wanted to be on her best behavior in front of her beau.
“Oh man,” Linc said, laughing so hard he could barely catch his breath. “I was coming down the sidewalk and saw Mom creeping around the side of the house dragging the hose with her. She jumped around the corner and yelled, ‘aha’ and proceeded to hose old man Wilson down good. He looked like he jumped in a pool. I have no idea what possessed her.”
“I do,” Lillian said. “I was getting you back after you dropped the water balloon on me the day before when I was hanging clothes on the line.”
“Sounds to me that you had it coming, son,” Carl said. “Too bad Mr. Wilson was the innocent victim.”
“Mama, does he still holler ‘don’t shoot’ every time he sees you?” Linc asked his mom.
“Yes,” she groaned. “I do everything I can to avoid him.” Lillian got over her aversion to snapping Linc with the towel with Carl present. He got to witness Linc dodging left and right to avoid his mother’s deadly aim, but it was obvious she’d had a lot of practice. She had nothing to worry about because Carl laughed heartily at mother and son horsing around.
Their shenanigans were interrupted when the doorbell rang. “I got it, Lillian. You keep giving Linc what he deserves.”
“I can’t imagine who in the world would stop over so late without calling ahead,” Lillian said, straightening her wayward strands of hair.
“Someone needing a cup of sugar,” I suggested as I headed for the door.
“The law,” Lincoln said dramatically. “Someone turned you in for child abuse.”
I didn’t hear what Lillian’s response was because I opened the door and looked into a familiar pair of green eyes. I stood rooted to the spot as I waited for my mother to say something, but she just stood there ringing her hands.
“Who is it?” Lillian said, coming up behind me. “Oh! Hello, Alice.” Lillian sounded as surprised as I was.
“Hello, Lillian,” my mother said, still not acknowledging me. Was it just a coincidence that she came to see Lillian on the day I arrived in town? It didn’t feel like a coincidence, but why wouldn’t she look at me again?”
Second Wind Page 21
