The Gus Diaries

Part 150

Summer Revelations II
 

When we arrived at the hospital, as expected, Uncle Michael was already there. I was surprised to find he wasn’t in with Dad. Instead he was waiting for us near the nurses’ station.

“Where’s Dad? Why aren’t you with him? Can I see him?” I couldn’t seem to control myself. My nervous tension released itself in a rapid fire stream of questions.

Pop remained silent, looking directly into Uncle Michael’s eyes, some unspoken question seeming to pass between them.

“Justin, Gus, they’re prepping him for surgery. They wouldn’t tell me anything more.” Uncle Michael put a hand on Pop’s shoulder and squeezed. “I told them Brian’s husband would be here shortly to sign any necessary releases and to get some concrete answers. Are you ready for this?”

Nodding, Pop walked with Uncle Michael and I to the nurse’s station in the ER. He introduced Pop. “This is Brian Kinney’s husband. The doctor was hoping he’d get here in time to sign the release forms and speak with him briefly before surgery.”

The nurse stood from her chair and read from a small card. “Are you Justin Taylor?”

In response Pop took out his wallet, removed his driver’s license, and handed it to the nurse. It worried me to see Pop still unable or unwilling to speak.

“Good. The doctor was hoping you’d arrive quickly. I’ll go alert him.”

I kept watching Pop. He said nothing and Uncle Michael was uncharacteristically quiet as well, although not completely silent.

“Justin, Brian will be fine.”

Pop remained silent.

“Do you think this might have something to do with the subject of the next Rage issue?”

Staring at Uncle Michael, Pop pinched the bridge of his nose. It reminded me of Dad. I wanted to know what the hell they were talking about, but more than anything, I wanted to know my Dad would be okay.

A man in scrubs came through doors that had a sign reading, “Oxygen in use, hospital personnel only.” The nurse we had spoken with was next to him and pointed directly at Pop.

“Mr. Taylor?”

Pop finally found his voice. “Yes, Doctor.”

“Mr. Kinney has sustained some internal injuries. We’re fortunate as they seem to be minor, but any internal bleeding is always cause for concern until we get inside and make sure everything is under control.”

Continuing to look at the doctor, Pop took my hand. “Was he awake when he arrived?”

“Awake, cursing from the pain, and repeated more than once, ‘Sunshine’s going to kill me’. Do you know what that means?”

Uncle Michael rubbed Pop’s arm.

“Doctor, do they know what caused the accident?” Pop started to bite his thumbnail. It was obvious he was anxious about the answer.

“According to the police officer in the squad car who followed the ambulance, Mr. Kinney rear-ended the truck. Plowed into the vehicle at an unexpected slow down on the highway.”

Nodding again, Pop squeezed my hand. “Okay. Thank you, Doctor.”

“The nurse will bring you Mr. Kinney’s belongings. He was able to sign the release for surgery himself, ordering the anesthesiologist to make sure I didn’t leave a big scar.”

Uncle Michael chimed in while smiling. “He’s vain like that. It’s a good sign.”

The doctor’s voice remained soft and even. “I would imagine so.” He shook Pop’s hand. “I’ll finish my own prep for surgery now. The nurse will show you to the fourth floor surgical waiting area. The surgery wing is adjacent so you’ll be close. I don’t expect this to take longer than one to two hours but I’ll have someone from OR alert you should there be any unexpected delays.”

“Thank you.” Pop attempted a smile but it didn’t work.

The doctor left through the same off-limits doors and the nurse was left alone with us again.

After being shown to the surgical waiting room I stood in front of Pop, who had just taken a seat.

“Pop, what’s going on? You usually rant and rave. Now you’re so quiet I barely recognize you. It’s like you know what this is all about -- almost expected to hear everything the doctor said, including how the accident happened.” I looked from Pop to Uncle Michael and back. “And what’s this next Rage issue about -- distracted driving?” That was the only thing I could imagine since the roads were dry today, as had the weather been for the past week.

Uncle Michael patted a chair next to him but I wasn’t ready to sit and he took the cue not to argue the point. “The next issue of Rage is not about distracted driving. It’s about Rage’s vanity and aging gracefully.”

I laughed out loud. “That’s a laugh! Dad will never age gracefully. Fuck, if it’s up to him, he’ll never admit to aging at all!”

“That’s the point, Gus. It’s about Rage’s futile efforts to defy time and the inevitable.”

Pop looked directly at me. “It’s about your father forgetting that sometimes being a man means knowing when to ask for help, and accepting the help in whatever form it might take.”

“I’m not following you. You said Dad isn’t sick. Why would Dad need help and how does this accident have anything to do with that?”

“I promised him I wouldn’t share this with you.” Pop looked at Uncle Michael.

“I didn’t promise him shit.” Uncle Michael looked back and forth realizing what he’d said and was clearly relieved to note the only occupants of the room were the three of us. He then looked directly at Pop. “Justin, he should know this could have all been avoided, and how.”

Pop ran his hand through his hair. “Fine, Michael. Go ahead.”

“Gus your father needs glasses.”

I snorted. “So he can wear contacts.”

“Unfortunately, when he tried those, for whatever complicated reason, they didn’t work. His eyes had a terrible reaction to them. He needs glasses. There’s no other option.”

“So he needs glasses to see clearly and he was driving without them.” I glared from Uncle Michael to Pop. “Are you telling me he got behind the wheel of a car needing glasses but didn’t wear them?”

Pop looked directly at me and stood. “He first has to fill the goddamned, fucking prescription and he won’t.”

“Is that what you two have been sniping about all summer? How long has this been going on?”

“Since March. He actually told me it would take some sort of earth shattering experience to get him to put on a pair of glasses.” Pop started to pace. “This had better be it because I can’t lose him over some fucked up view of losing his youth. He’s almost fifty. He needs to face some modicum of reality.”

I couldn’t believe my father risked his life and the lives of others over a stupid pair of glasses. He’s worn reading glasses for a few years, but I guess this full-time concept put him over the top. What a jackass! I nearly destroyed my life trying to be superhuman with drugs and my father almost does the same thing in the name of vanity.

I wonder if there’s a family discount for shrinks in Dad’s medical insurance because he sure as hell needs one too!

Looking at the clock, only a few minutes had passed since Dad had gone into surgery. This was going to be a long couple of hours. I glanced at Pop. Through his anger I could see his fear and concern. Through his angry words, I could hear how much he loves Dad. Dad had better come through this healthy enough for Pop, and me, to lay into him big time. We deserve it, and so does he!

I looked at the clock. Only another three minutes had passed.

Fuck!

[TBC]

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