The Gus Diaries

Part 42

The Letter
 

It’s been one of those weeks I wish I could do something but knew that I couldn’t.

After our amazing, long July 4th weekend in New York City we came home to find a letter from MJ’s father. You would think it had burned his hand the way he reacted when he saw it.

The next day when I woke up for work I discovered that Justin was in his studio painting, and wasn’t planning on heading into Pittsburgh, or the gallery, all day. I also discovered the letter remained unopened in the middle of the kitchen table.

Dad was already in the kitchen drinking his coffee and reading the newspaper when I arrived, ready for work and looking for food. I must have really worked up an appetite in New York because I was starving.

“Hey, Sonny Boy.”

“Hey, Dad. Did MJ leave anything out for breakfast?” MJ always had breakfast waiting on school, and now work, days. He was a firm believer in starting the day out right.

Dad folded the paper and looked at me, “I don’t think that Justin was thinking about you, or your breakfast, today.”

I took another look at the unopened letter and put my head down. Talk about selfish.

“No problem. I’ll make it myself...maybe I should make some extra for MJ. I know you don’t eat much at breakfast but he usually does.”

Dad looked up at me over his coffee mug and I saw the beginnings of a smile. “That sounds like a very good idea. Maybe the food will draw him out of there.”

“When did he go in?”

“Let me think...he paced until three o’clock in the morning and then he went into the studio.”

“You mean he was up all night. Why didn’t he just open the fucking thing?”

“Come here, Gus, we have a few minutes before you need to start breakfast.”

I sat down next to Dad and looked at him. I was concerned about MJ. I’d never seen him this out of control before, and staying up all night wasn’t his style. That was more like something I’d expect Dad to do.

“Justin and his father haven’t had much of a relationship since he came out.”

“Since he came out. Wasn’t that around the time he met you?”

“That’s right, Gus. Justin was offered a one-way ticket out of his house when he was seventeen years old. It was either that, or live at home, pretending to be straight.”

“So he left home.”

“He left home.”

“Is that when he moved in with Grandma Deb?”

“Almost.”

“Almost?”

“Before he moved in with Grandma Deb, which is where a teenage boy needed to be, with a parent figure, I let him stay with me.”

“How did that work out?”

“I was 29 and he was 17. I had answered to no one and was not prepared to share my life with anyone. How do you guess it worked out?”

“Like shit.”

“You win the prize for another correct answer.”

“Neither Justin or I were ready for that kind of a relationship, even though he really wanted it. Justin was a lot more mature than I was, but he was still a kid finding his way. Personally I think he was just a horny teen.” Dad smirked, but I knew exactly what he was talking about.

“So Grandma Deb took him in. Is that why Grandma Jen took in Jeff and called it paying forward?”

“Another right answer. I knew you were a chip off the old genius block.”

I just laughed at Dad’s comments. “So what about the letter? Is he ever going to open it?”

“Let’s just say that since you don’t have to be at the store until ten o’clock, I plan to stay home and make sure that letter gets opened before we leave.”

“Do you think MJ will be okay?” I was getting really worried. “I mean even though they haven’t been in contact since he left home...”

“I didn’t say they hadn’t been in contact, Sonny Boy.”

I got up to start making some eggs and toast and Dad went over to the counter to refresh his coffee. “What are you talking about?”

“Let’s just say that both MJ and I have had several little run-ins with Craig Taylor and none of them came out with a positive result. The last time MJ interacted with Craig was during a protest at Taylor Electronics for their support of homophobic organizations that were fighting to deny rights to the GLBT citizens of Pennsylvania. Only one person was arrested during the protest.”

I looked at Dad and it was as if a light bulb just went off over my head. If my eyeballs weren’t attached I bet my eyes would have popped out of the sockets, they were opened so wide. “You don’t mean MJ’s father actually had him...”

“Yes, Gus, Craig Taylor had his son arrested.”

“No fucking way.”

“I wish I could tell you I was joking. Now you can see why this written contact is of some concern to MJ.”

I suddenly stood up straight and tall as I was scrambling the eggs and heating the pan. “If I was him I’d just burn the damn thing.”

“You’d burn the first contact, with someone you once loved and admired, that you’ve had in about ten years?”

“Shit!”

“Now you’re thinking clearly.” Dad rubbed my back and put the bread in the toaster for me. Then he left the room. I had a feeling he was going to pry MJ out of the studio. I just hoped he would come willingly rather than kicking and screaming.

Dad and MJ have had one or two big fights since I’ve moved in and each time they make me cringe, because while they don’t always agree, they usually don’t let it get out of hand.

As expected I heard Dad and MJ in the hallway approaching the kitchen. “Brian, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m forcing you to exorcise your demons and at the same time teaching our son not to run away from his problems...or in this case to lock himself away and avoid them or hide from them.”

“Who the fuck made you the authority on child rearing?”

Dad snorted, “I believe the legal system in the state of Pennsylvania made BOTH of us the authorities on child rearing for one Gus Taylor Kinney. Any more questions?”

“Fuck! I’m sorry, Brian.”

“You know sorry’s bu...”

“It’s not bullshit when the apology is owed and I am truly sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

“That’s okay. I’ve been known to act without thinking once or twice.”

That got a laugh out of MJ. “Once or twice. Clearly you’ve lost count over the years.”

The two of them walked into the kitchen smiling, which was a bit of a relief.

“Gus, I see you’ve been paying attention when we’ve been cooking. That smells great.”

“You’re the one who taught me about seasoning and what vegetables work with what kinds of foods. I figured it was time to demonstrate my skills and give back a little.”

I looked directly into MJ’s eyes and then glanced at the letter. He followed my eyes and looked back at me. “I understand completely.”

MJ sat down at the table and held the letter. He turned it around and around in his hands and then just kept looking at it like if he opened it a dagger would fly out and pierce his heart or something. Now that I think about it, I guess he really was concerned about his heart. I couldn’t imagine not seeing either of my dads for ten years, let alone under the last circumstances he had seen his father.

“Sunshine, are you going to open that fucking thing or just spin it until it spontaneously combusts?”

“I like the second choice but I have a feeling the first choice is more appropriate.” He continued to look at the letter. “You know the last time I felt this way about a piece of mail?”

“No, when?” Dad suddenly got very soft spoken understanding that MJ had to do this in his own way.

“When the acceptance letter came from PIFA. I was living at Deb’s and I couldn’t open it. Everything was riding on their response to my application.”

“So how did you finally get it opened?” It was strange seeing Dad guide MJ through this tough time. I just stayed back and started to quietly place the food on dishes.

MJ chuckled, “Deb took a fucking steak knife because, of course, she didn’t have a normal letter opener, and she opened the letter. Then she read it silently and finally said, ‘Congratulations, Picasso’.” He paused briefly. “Then when we realized what she said, Vic and I screamed, yelled and we all hugged.” MJ sat a moment and smiled at the memory.

I could just imagine Grandma Deb celebrating with MJ and Uncle Vic. I wish I could remember Uncle Vic, but I only know him from stories and pictures.

Dad stood up. “Well then,” and he walked over to one of our drawers and pulled out a steak knife and then returned to the table, “I can’t promise that the results will be as pleasant, but at least I can help you out. Give it to me.”

MJ handed Dad the offending piece of mail and Dad opened it using the knife. He then pulled the letter out of the envelope and began reading. I brought the plates to the table and set one in front of MJ and one at my place. As Dad continued to read I took two mugs of coffee to the table and set them down as well.

Finally Dad looked up from his reading.

“Well Brian, what does he have to say?”

“Sunshine, I have to admit that this even took me by surprise.” He gently brushed his hand over MJ’s and then held it briefly.

Dad began reading the letter. I didn’t want to paraphrase because it’s totally insane, so I “borrowed it” and scanned it in here:

 

Dear Justin,

I know we haven’t been in touch for a long time but I need to see you immediately. I need you to sign some important papers for Taylor Electronics.

I’m sure you’re aware that when your grandfather died (thank you for respecting my wishes in not attending the funeral) he left a will as the CEO of TE. Unfortunately, he chose not to change his will despite my advice regarding your deviant way of life and poor judgment.

Because of this oversight on my father’s part, he left you with 25% of TE’s holdings, which from what your mother has said, you certainly do not need. Obviously painting pictures has served a financial purpose after all, and I’m sure your live-in comrade can supply everything else. His ad agency is always written up as acquiring new, lucrative accounts.

We need to meet at a mutually agreeable location so you can sign over your newly acquired shares of TE to enable them to be utilized properly.

Sincerely,

Craig Taylor
CEO – Taylor Electronics

 

Who the fuck writes there own kid a letter like that? It was worse than just sending a formal business letter that would start, To Whom it May Concern.

I looked at MJ and he was frozen. Then I saw out of the corner of one of his eyes a tear begin to fall. Then another and another followed. I wasn’t sure if I should stay or leave, so I sat as still as possible to not distract Dad or MJ.

“Sunshine.” Dad took MJ’s chin gently in his hand and turned it towards him so they were looking in each others eyes. “Justin, are you listening to me.”

MJ just nodded as more tears silently ran down his face unchecked by either him or Dad.

“You are better than him. It’s clear to me that your grandfather saw that in you, which is the real reason he didn’t change his will. I know you wanted to go to his funeral, but we did visit the grave the next day. Believe me, if there is a fucking afterlife, he saw you there and knew why you came alone.”

MJ looked into Dad’s eyes and there was something there…not sadness…no, it was the look of someone in love. “I wasn’t alone, you were there. You’re always there.”

Dad leaned forward in his chair as MJ did the same and they both clung to each other as MJ continued to silently cry. At first I thought he was crying about his grandfather, but it didn’t take me more than a minute to realize he was crying over his father.

Dad whispered in MJ’s ear, “I know it hurts, same feeling, your father just uses words with his hate. I know, I know,” then he just continued to hold MJ while rubbing his back and whispering.

I slowly left the table, wondering what MJ would decide to do. No doubt whatever it was Dad would be there by his side to support and love him through everything.

I started thinking about my mother. Not Mem, she was being really cool lately. She understood why I did what I did, but Mom just didn’t get it. I love my mother so much and I couldn’t help feeling hurt that she hadn’t called me once since our last meeting. Knowing what she had talked to Dad about before our trip to New York I felt that it was my turn to troubleshoot and be mature.

I picked up my cell phone and hit the speed dial. I couldn’t bear to take her off my phone. I hoped that seeing my name in her caller ID wouldn’t put her off.

The phone rang two times, “Hello, Gus.”

“Mom.”

“Yes.” It was cold but she didn’t hang up.

“Mom, I just want you to know I love you.”

I heard a choked sound at the other end. It made me glad that the gallery didn’t open until 10:00 AM. “I love you, too, lambskin.”

 

Return to The Gus Diaries