The Gus Diaries

Part 97

Remembering
 

Last Sunday evening, when Dad and Pop picked me up from my weekend with Jeff, I hated saying good-bye, but Jeff promised he’d come to Britin the following week. I’m glad he doesn’t have practice every weekend... at least not yet.

Pop gave him this fucking huge box of all kinds of good shit, including everything from junk food to packages of healthy trail mixes to ink cartridges for his printer. There was even an envelope inside with some cash. I didn’t ask how much, but it must have been a lot from the look on Jeff’s face.

“Justin insisted we couldn’t come empty handed. I told him we’d already dropped off Gus, assuming he was enough, but my partner whined so I agreed to drag this crap here for you.”

Pop swatted Dad on the arm. “It’s husband, we passed partner about a thousand miles back. And your imagination is getting more creative as you age, old man.”

Dad grabbed Pop and crashed his lips down on him. “Never call me that!”

Pop pulled Dad down for another kiss -- it was starting to get a bit too hot in Jeff’s room for my comfort. I faked a loud cough, and Pop moved back slightly still looking directly into Dad’s eyes. “Never again, husband.” The two of them gazed at us. Pop’s face turned bright red. It was as if he’d just remembered they weren’t alone.

“That’s better, twat.”

Jeff smiled and I rolled my eyes.

“Mr. Kinney, I mean Brian, Justin...” Jeff had his arm around me as he faced my dads. “Thank you both so much for all of this. I don’t know what to say.”

“Then don’t say anything, kid. Besides, thank you was more than enough. Just make sure you don’t hurt Gus.”

“Never, sir.”

Dad glared.

“Never, Brian.”

“That’s better.”

Pop intervened, “I think it’s time we leave Jeff to study. I understand you’ll be visiting us next weekend.”

“Yes, if it’s okay with you.”

“We love having you with us. Now I just have to make sure we have enough food in the house.”

Dad smirked. “You’d better fill the pantry, with these two around we’ll need all the reserves we can get.”

“Hey!”

“Now, now, Sonny Boy, with both of you playing basketball and swimming in the pool, I just assume you’ll need to carbo-load.”

“Yeah, right.”

Jeff started laughing. “I do need to get some work done. Bye, Newbie.”

“Bye, Jeff.” I wrapped my arms around his neck and drew him close for our good-bye kiss. There would be a lot of these during the year, and I wanted them to start out memorable.

“Come on, Brian, let’s get him out of here before he refuses to leave.”

Pop nudged my arm and we were on our way.

During the car ride home, I told my dads all about CMU. My enthusiasm was more than obvious.

“Sonny Boy, I appreciate your interest in higher education, but can you wait to fill out the application? I don’t think they accept high school students.”

I lowered my head, not realizing how long I’d gone on. The thought of being with Jeff full-time again took over, and I wasn’t thinking clearly.

Pop grinned. “Just be glad his boyfriend goes to an excellent school. If nothing else, that’ll insure he works hard in his studies.”

“Shit!”

“What is it, Gus?”

“I have to finish a short article for the first edition of the paper.”

“Aren’t you the new big-wig on the block?”

“Yeah, Dad, I am. This is the annual bullshit about wishing my staff a great year in print. I’ve done everything else I need to do for the first paper, other than approve a few articles that are due in this week.”

“Then I guess we had better get you home.”

Pop turned around so he could face me. “Maybe after you write your article, we can have dinner and you can tell us everything else you did at CMU -- no dorm room details required.”

I grinned. “Sounds like a plan.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
 

Dinner was great. Although I can’t wait until the day I go to CMU with Jeff -- if I get in -- I’ll always miss Pop’s cooking. He’s so amazing. He doesn’t have to work in the kitchen at all. Hell, Dad’s said a million times he’d hire a chef, but Pop loves to cook. He says it relaxes him and helps him think clearly.

Who knew cooking was good for anything more than getting food into your stomach?

We had an incredible stir-fry meal. The whole kitchen smelled like the most amazing Chinese restaurant. Pop even served green tea with our dinner. He seemed to be in a particularly good mood.

“Pop, this is incredible.”

“Thank you, Gus. What do you think, Brian?”

“It’s not bad.”

That’s Dad’s version of fabulous, but he just can’t say it. The strange thing is Pop always smiles and sits up taller when Dad uses that phrase to describe his dinner creations. It must be one of those things about them that’s still a mystery to me.

I thought about telling my fathers about the guy we met at the student union. I remembered the last name. Pop was bashed by some asshole named Chris Hobbs, but since he’d be too young to be the guy’s father, I figured it was merely a coincidence.

“Dad, Pop, when Jeff and I went to the student union for lunch on Saturday, we met some asshole. He actually lives in Jeff’s dorm.”

Pop put down his fork. “Gus, you don’t usually call someone an asshole without reason. Care to tell us what’s up?”

“Well, this guy seemed shocked that athletes could be gay. He thought when Jeff announced to his friends that his better half was coming to visit, he was talking about a girl.”

“I gather Jeff is completely out at school.”

I looked at Dad. “Totally. After all the bullshit he went through with his family, he never wants to hide again. Everyone else we met was cool with it. We hung around with a group of guys... and some girls on Saturday night at the campus club.”

My fathers both stared at me.

I raised my hands in surrender. “No drinking -- none of us -- promise!”

“After your night not-to-remember with Matt, you might want to go easy for a while.”

I nodded. There was no arguing with that. They were right. I had to learn my limits and stay in control before I tried anything again -- I knew it wouldn’t be long -- hell, my dads knew too.”

Pop touched my arm. “So, what about the asshole? How did Jeff deal with him?”

“He was honest.” I took a sip of my tea. “You know, it was hard to read the guy. He was this huge, hot football jock, but he had a strange edge to him.”

Now Dad got more interested. “What the fuck do you mean?”

“It was weird. At first I thought he might be gay too, until he started talking like some homophobic, ignorant moron.”

“Sounds like someone Jeff should keep his distance from.”

“Well, at least the football and basketball teams don’t practice together -- although they will overlap locker room time.”

Dad sounded firm -- he seemed more concerned than was necessary. “Just tell Jeff to keep his distance. No need to encourage this kid.”

Pop brushed his hand over Dad’s and their fingers entwined. “Calm down, Brian. It’s not the same.”

Dad looked at Pop. “Is that what you think? You’re still always looking for the best in people.”

“Brian, you haven’t even met this kid. He’s probably just naive -- maybe he hasn’t had the exposure most students at CMU have had.”

“Maybe.” Dad didn’t seem convinced.

“Well, at least we didn’t see him anymore during the weekend.”

Both my dads nodded. I’m sure they were glad to know he didn’t bother us again.

We ate for a while in companionable silence. The food was great and I have to admit that my mind drifted back to my time with Jeff more than once.

“Gus, are you done or are you planning on eating the plate?”

Dad’s sarcastic voice brought me out of my reverie. I noted my plate was empty and snorted. “Guess it was so good I couldn’t stop.” Standing up, I brought the rest of the dishes to the dishwasher along with my own. As I was loading them, I remembered my earlier train of thought.

“By the way, you want to hear the creepiest coincidence?”

“Sure, Sonny Boy.”

Dad and Pop were still holding hands, but I could tell they were listening.

“The guy had the same last name as the dick-head homophobe Pop went to school with.”

Both my dads turned to glare directly at me and waited for me to continue.

“You know, Hobbs. His name is Mark Hobbs.”

Pop whispered, “Fuck.”

Dad brushed his hand over his face and then through his hair. “You’ve got that right, Justin.”

Shit! What did they know that I didn’t?
 

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