by J. Bengtsson
We stood there without words, looking out over the Arizona night sky. Unable to handle the silence another second, I grabbed his arm and wrapped it around me as I leaned into him. Jake squeezed tightly and then reached out, took my hand, and raised it to his lips before saying, “I love you. I want to marry you. Why can’t that be enough?”
I didn’t care about the damn therapy. I just wanted him happy. Sometimes I wondered, given his background, if that would ever truly be possible, although there was no turning back now. I was fully vested in this man, and the way I saw it, neither one of us could survive alone. Our strength had always been together. Casey and Jake. Cake.
“It’s enough.”
3
Jake: The Honeybee
Stepping into the hotel rec room with Casey’s brothers, I was shocked by the scene that greeted me. A smile stretched across my face as I took in the theme of tonight’s party. Instead of flowing liquor and women dancing on poles, there were balloons, facemasks, and cupcakes topped with action figures. Keith had turned my bachelor party into a little kid’s superhero-themed shindig.
“You like?” Keith asked, straight-faced, as he flung back his Batman cape in a dramatic display.
“I… wow… it’s…”
“Totally KAPOW! Right?” He nodded, using his first of many superhero words of the evening. “You wanted something tame tonight and I aim to please, so one dry, super-boring bachelor party for my little bro! You’re welcome.”
I scanned the group of about twenty guys. All were wearing costumes or capes and sipping punch from cups with explosive words like BOOM! And ZAP! Shaking my head at all the idiots I called family and friends, I narrowed in on one very special one: Lassen. My driver had somehow managed to squeeze himself into a Superman costume that was about twelve sizes too small for him. Every nook and cranny of that big, beautiful belly of his was outlined by the fabric. The flimsy material wasn’t intended for over-stretching, and Lassen looked about ready to detonate all over the vinyl flooring. A wig of black slicked-back hair sat on top of his long, gray mountain man tresses like a dead animal pelt. He hadn’t even tried to tuck his hair up under it. It truly was a treat for the eyes, and I took him in like an ice cream sundae.
“Lassen, you went all out, my man. I’m blown away by your commitment.”
“Yeah, well, it’s because your asshole brother didn’t buy any costumes larger than an XXL.”
“How would I know you needed extra X’s?” Keith defended himself.
“Um… by looking at me.” Lassen somehow made himself appear even larger as he loomed over Keith with a snarl on his face.
In an attempt to tame the beast, I laid my hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry what anyone else thinks. I think it fits you like a glove. An O.J. Simpson glove, but still a glove.”
“I don’t get paid enough for this shit,” he grumbled.
After helping Casey’s brothers find the perfect costumes – the Hulk for Luke and Ironman for Miles – the group of us spent the evening playing arcade games and sipping on virgin cocktails, a.k.a fruit punch. It was probably the most fun I’d had at a party since I was… well, a kid. Turns out, laughter was what I needed to settle my rattled nerves. Keith had found a way to send me off into the adult world in the most juvenile of ways… and I’d expected nothing less of him.
My father, dressed as Thor, pulled me off the foosball table after another crushing loss to my drummer, Chet. We’d gone three in a row, and there was no beating the guy. I thought I was quick with my hands, but he was at a whole other level of hand-eye coordination.
“That was just embarrassing,” Dad said, shaking his head in disappointment. “You need to know when to concede defeat.”
“Says the guy who cheats at every board game.”
“Only because when you kids were little, you would punch, scream, and pout over who the winner was. But, you see, if I won every time, no fighting. It was genius, really.”
“So then why are you still winning?”
“Tonight’s not about me, Jake.” He expertly deflected the question. “Let’s talk about you.”
“No, thanks,” I scoffed. “That’s one subject you know I hate talking about.”
“Well, then, this will be a short conversation.”
“Very.” I nodded. “Where’s your hammer, Thor?”
“Kyle took it. Said something about playing whack-a-mole with Quinn’s head.”
“Oh, that’s…” I stopped to ponder the vision of that in my mind. “Disturbing.”
My father didn’t seem the least bit concerned about his youngest son, although that probably had something to do with the fact that Thor’s hammer was made of flimsy plastic.
“Where’s your costume?” he asked.
“Keith granted me an exemption.”
“Makes sense.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because you’re already a hero.”
I bristled at his words. “I really hate when you say shit like that.”
“Why? It’s true.”
My father always gave me way more credit than I deserved. I didn’t have superpowers or a desire to protect the world from ruin. Really, all I’d done for humankind was save my sorry ass. “In whose world?”
“In a lot of people’s worlds…” He stopped talking for a moment, struggling to control the unexpected emotion breaking up his words. “…but mostly mine.”
I shifted in place, uncomfortable with my father’s sudden sentiment. “Where did that come from?” I asked.
“I have no idea. I’ve been feeling a bit nostalgic today.”
“Or maybe you’re just getting weepy with old age.” I spoke with bravado, but truth be told, I’d also been walking a very thin emotional line today.
“That’s entirely possible. But you know, I think about where you were, that broken kid, and who you are now… it makes me proud to know you.” Again Dad broke down as he forced the remaining words out of his trembling throat. “You may not consider yourself one, but you’re my hero, kid.”
Dammit, now I was swallowing back the noticeable lump in my throat. What the hell was wrong with me? This whole day – actually, the past few weeks – had felt like an ending of sorts, like life was about to change forever, and the uncertainty of it all was messing with my head.
Struggling to preserve my cool, I averted my eyes to the cup in his hand, printed with the word ‘WHAM.’ It was so stupidly random I had to smile. My dad had a way of sidetracking me with his wackiness. And I’d counted on his lightheartedness during the darkest days of my life. Without his positive attitude and penchant for off-color jokes at all the wrong times, I was sure I wouldn’t be the man I was today. Crap, here came the feelings. “Thanks for always being there for me, Dad. I know I don’t say it often, but… I love you.”
His fingers pressed together like lobster claws, my dad clumsily wiped the tears away. I couldn’t tell if he was trying to be funny or not, until his words made clear he wasn’t. “You don’t need to say it. I already know.”
Unaccustomed to sharing such personal truths, we stared awkwardly at his superhero cup, struggling to find words… any words. Mercifully, my father pulled it together in time to turn our raw honesty into a joke. “Well, this sucks.”
“I know, right?” I loved the guy, but he was not someone I wanted to dive into a deep conversation with. “Can I ask you something without you breaking down like a baby?”
“Probably not, but you can give it a shot.”
“Before you married Mom, did you ever have any doubts that you’d be a good husband and father?”
He eyed me with interest. “Why? Are you having doubts?”
“Me? No. I’m asking for a friend.”
“Oh, right.” Dad laughed. “Here’s the thing about me. I married your mother when I was twenty-three. I was so damn immature, I doubt I gave it a moment’s thought. It wasn’t until after we were husband and wife that I was like… oh, snap, this shit is real.”
<
br /> “Please don’t use that word.”
“Shit?” His face twisted in surprise at the thought that I took offense to swear words, when I myself used them on a very regular basis.
“No. Snap. That word’s not for your age group.”
“For reals? I’m fly.”
“Ooh… no.” I cringed. “Just stop.”
“Pfft.” He waved off my recoil. “I don’t think you realize how totally awesome I am. My son’s a rock star, you know?”
“So I’ve heard. Can you please finish your story?”
“Oh, right. So, I had to grow up on the job. Marriage is not easy. You’ve got to work at it, but the rewards are great. And I’m not just talking about sex, which is...”
I jumped in to stop him. The last thing I wanted when I was already stressed was to hear a story about him and my mother getting it on. “Dad, seriously… no.”
“Sorry. Anyway, if you’re feeling this way now, it’s because you’re a more introspective person than I ever was – which is code for ‘You overthink things.’ My advice to you is to just relax and enjoy the ride. It’s unpredictable, but damn, is it ever worth it.”
“So then why do you always make Mom sound like your parole officer?”
“Because it’s funny. And true. She owns my ass… just like Casey will own yours in just a few short hours.”
“Dammit, why does everyone keep saying that? I’m not going to wuss out like the rest of you.”
“Oh, no?” Dad’s grin transformed his entire face. “Talk to me again in twenty years.”
“Casey’s not like that.”
“Neither was your Mom… until we got hitched. And then it was…”
Dad made his hand into a fist and squeezed. His face took on the look of a man being clocked in the nuts. I laughed despite myself. He was always good at dispensing unhelpful advice, similar to those ladies who circled around a first-time pregnant woman in order to pepper her with tales of their own unbearable childbirth suffering.
“Whatever, Dad.”
“You don’t believe me? Fine. Let me share with you my theory on the similarities between marriage and honeybee sex.”
I didn’t give him the benefit of a reply, as I knew more was coming and I didn’t want to delay what I was sure would be an entertaining explanation.
“See, the virgin queen takes a mating flight with a dozen or so male drones. Now, I know what you’re thinking… those are some lucky bees, right?”
“No, I really wasn’t thinking anything at all.”
“I mean out of the hundreds of eligible bachelors in the colony, she picked those winged studs. Except there’s nothing lucky about it because while the two are having tiny little honeybee intercourse in the sky, at the very moment of reckoning, the drone’s genitals explode, and all his bloody miniaturized parts seal off the queen like a microscopic butt plug!”
My eyebrows shot to the sky as I jerked my head up in alarm. This definitely wasn’t where I thought the story was going. “Jesus.”
“Exactly.” He nodded, like it all made perfect sense. “After the queen got what she wanted from the poor hapless dude, he became totally useless to her.”
I waited for my father to offer up any more words of wisdom, but nothing followed. That couldn’t be it. “And?”
“There’s no and, son,” he said shaking his head. “That’s marriage.”
Still a little shell-shocked from Dad’s rather unpleasant portrait of holy matrimony, I made my way over to my younger brother, Kyle, lounging on the couch. His eyes were closed, and one leg hung over the armrest as if he hadn’t a care in the world. I envied his relaxed state of being. If I had just a tiny bit of his slacker mentality, I was convinced I’d be a happier person. Taking in his costume of choice, I had to smile. Of all the superheroes he had to choose from, Kyle had settled on Ant-Man. Of course he had. My brother could never just be normal and select a run-of-the-mill crusader. Oh no, he had to pick a ‘hero’ who, in conjunction with millions of his closest ant friends, had brought villains to justice by hoisting them over their heads and marching the bad guys off to prison.
A swift kick to the side of the sofa didn’t produce the instantaneous effect I’d hoped for. Instead of being jarred to a vertical position, Kyle casually opened his eyes, yawned, and stretched an arm out in front of him, reminiscent of a cat waking from a daylong slumber. Was he really napping during my bachelor party? What a dick. I pushed his leg off the armrest. “I’m not sure if you’re aware, but when you lie like that, it totally shows your junk.”
Kyle sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “I think the word you were searching for was ‘Hello.’”
“Shouldn’t you be out there saving the world from crumbs?”
“Ooh, good one.” Kyle faked a laugh. “Perhaps you’re uninformed, but Ant-Man is a very complex guy with unique powers.”
“Yeah? Like what?”
“He can reduce in size.”
“That’s self-explanatory.” I said, pretending to yawn. “What else?”
“Well, he can command an ant army with his special helmet.”
“To do what?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged, putting little to no effort into selling himself. “Ant stuff.”
“You can do better than that.”
“Okay, how about this?” The glint in Kyle’s eye was unmistakable. “He has inferiority issues when it comes to the stronger, more powerful, and more handsome heroes who always outshine and underestimate him. Sound familiar?”
A grin spread across my face. “I love your costume, man.”
“That’s more like it,” he said, matching my expression. “What can I do for you?”
“Nothing. I’m trying to escape Dad.”
Kyle nodded as if he completely understood my reasoning. “Ah, yes, the infected, ingrown hair on his butt cheek.”
“What? No.” Damn, that man needed supervision when he ventured into public spaces. “Why would he be advertising that?”
“I mean as far as abscesses go, it is fairly impressive.”
“I don’t care if it’s the size of a small country, I don’t want that thing anywhere near me. I’m already traumatized enough.”
“Do you want to tell Ant-Man about it?”
“Why not? It involves your insect brothers, so you might have a unique perspective. Dad just managed to connect marriage to the most disturbing Animal Planet fact ever. Did you know the male honeybee’s testicles explode after he mates with the queen bee?”
“Whoa, dude, that’s brutal. I need to watch Animal Planet more often.”
“Yeah, me too. Anyway, his point was that marriage is similarly terrifying. Apparently, once I get married, Casey will transform into a queen bee, absorb my genitals, and keep me at her mercy forever.”
“Yikes,” Kyle said with a dopey grin on his face. “Good luck with that.”
“Right? Anyway, the part I don’t get is what would the incentive be to knock up the queen?”
“Are we talking about you or the honeybee right now?”
I smiled. “The honeybee.”
“I think we both know the incentive,” Ant-Man theorized. “At least he dies happy, right?”
“But does he, Kyle? Really? I mean, his nards detonate into a bloody mess and then he drops dead. I can’t imagine that being a satisfying climax.”
Kyle studied me as if he actually had something profound to say, but then he opened his mouth and ruined the moment. “I think you’re making a big deal out of nothing. Everyone knows when you get married, you don’t use your balls all that often anyway.”
I took in that smug expression on his face but consoled myself with the knowledge that he didn’t have all that much wiggle room either. The way his relationship with Kenzie was going, he didn’t seem too far off from walking down the aisle himself. Maybe when it was his nutsack on the front lines, he’d have more compassion for my situation.
I nearly smacked Quinn with the door on t
he way into the bathroom.
“Oh, shit. What were you doing behind the door?” I complained.
“Um, exiting,” he said, appearing amused by his comeback.
“Well, don’t do that around me. It’s creepy.”
“Sorry, next time I’ll send you a text when I’m finished pissing.”
Quinn made a grand gesture of stepping back to allow me entrance. I took a quick pass at him with my eyes. He was also dressed up as Superman but, unlike Lassen, he filled out his costume like it was an actual fitted glove. I was still having trouble grasping the fact that my youngest brother was all grown up and standing a couple of inches taller than me. I’d always viewed Quinn as a little kid, but now, at eighteen years of age, he was anything but. Packing a solid twenty pounds of muscle and rockin’ the disheveled hairstyle, baby Quinn was putting the rest of us McKallister boys to shame.
“I hear Kyle’s looking to kick your ass.”
“Yeah. I told him my theory, and he freaked out and tried to hit me with the hammer.”
“What’s your theory?”
“Just that he picked his costume to complement his ant-sized package.”
“Ah. Now I’m getting a clearer picture.”
“Anyway, no way could he beat my ass. I can take him down in an instant.”
“I don’t know, Quinn, Kyle’s scrappy.”
“And you think I’m not?”
It was hard to ignore the challenge in his voice, but I forced myself not to take the bait. Quinn and I hadn’t been getting along all that well lately, and the last thing I wanted tonight was confrontation. He followed me back into the bathroom… okay, it looked like I was getting company. Thankfully, Quinn honored the bro code by averting his eyes so I could relieve myself. Too bad he didn’t think to keep the chitchat down to a minimum.
“Sooo,” he said, elongating the word, “I’m still waiting on the songwriting session you’ve been promising me for over a year now. Any idea when that might happen?”
