The Gus Diaries

Part 151

Summer Revelations III
 

Dad’s eyes fluttered open and this time stayed open as Pop and I sat on opposite sides of his bed. Uncle Michael stood staring out the window of the hospital room as we waited for Dad to wake up enough to communicate.

Dad had been really lucky. The doctor reported that there was almost no internal bleeding and was easily repairable. The surgery had been completed in less than two hours although it felt more like two days. The prognosis was excellent and the only reason they were giving him antibiotics in his IV was to prevent infection, despite the fact that no complications were expected.

“Hey, Sunshine.” Dad’s voice was soft but clear as he looked directly at Pop. “I wasn’t sure you’d be here when I woke up... if I woke up.”

Pop held Dad’s hand gently with one hand and stroked his arm with the other. “Stop being a fucking drama queen. Your life wasn’t in any danger.” The hitch in Pop’s voice revealed his true feelings, despite his choice of words.

“Did the police tell you what happened?”

I moved closer to the bed and responded before Pop had a chance. “The police and the doctor both told us what happened. Were you on the phone or something?” I decided to play dumb and see if Dad would be honest with me about the real cause of the accident.

Dad shook his head and closed his eyes. “Sonny Boy, Gus, I’m not sure how to tell you this, but your dear young dad fucked up.”

Continuing to sit still on the edge of the bed I looked directly at him. He reopened his eyes. “Did you take something, Dad? I thought I was the only jackass in our family who thought he could handle drugs. That was a tough lesson, one I’ll continue to remember for a long, long time.”

“No. No drugs, no alcohol, not even an aspirin.”

“So how could you miss seeing a truck in front of you?”

Dad turned his attention back to Pop for a moment. “The truck driver?”

“Barely a scratch. Even his truck survived with just some of your car’s paint on his rear fender. Your car wasn’t so lucky.”

Dad grimaced. “I guess I deserve that.”

“And then some.”

“Dad, what is it you’re not telling me?” I was getting anxious and wanted to hear Dad’s side of this whole nightmare. Even though he was out of danger, seeing him lying in a hospital bed was little comfort.

Uncle Michael came and stood by my side. “Brian, it’s good to see you awake. You scared the fucking shit out of us. These aren’t the calls anyone wants to get. I have enough crap to deal with where Ben is concerned, but at least he does everything he possibly can to keep himself as healthy as possible. What the hell is your excuse?” He squeezed my shoulder. “And don’t you think it’s time you ‘fessed up to your kid? It’s not weak to let him know you’re human and have faults like the rest of us -- and at times like this, much bigger than the rest of us.”

“Michael, not now.” Pop glared at Uncle Michael.

“It’s okay, Justin. Mikey’s right -- this time.” Dad tried to smirk, but didn’t quite make it. Then he looked directly at me. “I need glasses, Gus. Not contact lenses. For some fucked up reason they won’t work for my prescription and eye condition. I need fucking glasses and I didn’t want to get them because I thought I could deal with the world without them. It’s fucked up thinking. I know that now, even though Justin’s been trying to knock some sense into me for months.”

“You nearly got yourself killed for lack of a goddamned pair of glasses, which most people think are hot these days anyway? That’s the most insane thing I’ve ever heard of, except possibly me thinking taking pills would help keep my life in balance.” My eyes locked on Dad’s. “And you’re the one who told me how fucked up my goal of perfection was. How could you risk your life, the life of others on the road, and practically kill Pop and me emotionally over something so stupid?”

Dad glanced at Pop. “And you call me a drama queen?”

“If the DNA fits--” Pop brushed his hand over Dad’s cheek. “Brian, please.” He whispered loud enough for Uncle Michael and me to hear.

“I won’t fight you on this anymore. You’ve got carte blanche to contact any of my doctors. Call the ophthalmologist and get the prescription for the glasses. Our first stop when I get out of here will be to find a pair of glasses that will make me look as hot as I do now.”

“Brian, I hate to break it to you, but you don’t look all too hot in that hospital gown with tubes hanging out of your arm.” Uncle Michael smiled, but his message was clear. I guess that’s how I’d deal with it if Marci tried something this stupid. Adding a little humor with a very clear message couldn’t hurt.

“Do you promise?” Pop sounded a bit too desperate, his nerves and stress filtering through.

“I promise, Justin. I won’t pull this young and beautiful shit again.”

’Young and beautiful.’ What the fuck was that all about? Talk about ego. Dad is going to be fifty years old soon.

“Brian, you’ll always be young and beautiful to me, no matter what you’re concerned about seeing in the mirror.” Pop leaned closer to Dad but was careful not to touch any of his injuries. “I only see the man I fell in love with, and I want to see you around for a long time.”

“Seems I remember those words from somewhere long ago and far away.” Dad brushed his fingers over Pop’s hair.

“You should, you said them. Now I’m returning the favor.”

“I love you, Justin, and I won’t pull this crap again.”

Uncle Michael opened his mouth, seemingly about to say something but shut it again.

“And as for you, Gus, you can’t get rid of your Dad this easy. You’ll be stuck with me for a few more decades.”

“Good thing, Dad. I could use you in my life. You actually give pretty good advice when it’s to someone else.” I didn’t realize I had revealed something in my facial expression.

Pop and Dad were both looking at me. “Gus, I get the feeling you’ve been trying to tell your father and me something for a couple of weeks.”

“Yes, Sonny Boy, I noticed you’ve been a bit on edge, but then again, I’ve been a bit on edge myself. That’s going to change. Now it’s your turn. What’s eating you, Gus?”

I thought about telling Dad and Pop the decision I had come to about my next year at CMU, but the hospital setting wasn’t the right place and it certainly didn’t seem like the right time.

“It’s not that big a deal. It’ll keep until we’re all home.”

Uncle Michael smiled. “The doc said that he’d only need to keep you here a couple of days.” He looked at me. “Gus, let’s go get some coffee at the Starbucks across the street. It’ll be great punishment for your Dad since he can’t have any yet unless they’ve figured out a way to siphon it through an IV.”

“Later, Mikey.” Dad nodded and then turned to Pop. “He may not be the most subtle friend, but at least he knows when we need to have some time alone.”

Pop ghosted his fingers over Dad’s shoulder.

“Later, Brian.” Then Uncle Michael turned to me. “Come on, Gus.”

As soon as we entered the elevator and pushed the button for the street level Uncle Michael looked me squarely in the eyes. “Okay, Gus. What’s up? You’ve been agitated for weeks. Even I’ve noticed it at the store.”

I was about to spill the beans to Uncle Michael when my phone chimed, signaling a text message. It was from Jeff. ‘How’s your Dad. I hope you’ll be able to tell him and your Pop soon. I’m getting anxious and need to tell Jen and Tucker.’

[TBC]

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