Justin

Brian looks so shell-shocked when I find him that for one split second I’m terrified, but then, as Gus throws himself at his father, one of those slow, sweet, almost shy smiles spills across Brian’s face and I know everything is okay.

He holds Gus in one arm and reaches the other hand to clasp my neck. We don’t kiss, but for a moment, his forehead brushes mine, and then that tongue in cheek smirk wanders across his face and settles in the corner of his mouth, and my world stabilizes around it. However rattled he might have been earlier, Brian is back, and very much on his game.

Before he can say anything, Ms. Hershell walks up to us, and just for a moment there is something in the way she carries herself that reminds me of Brian when he’s in “I’m the fucking best there is” successful businessman mode. She looks for one split second like she might actually smile, but then says almost smugly, “Now that we’ve disposed of Ms. Marcus’ petition, it’s time to sort out the remaining custody issues.”

I feel my heart give a funny little skip. I mean, I knew the meeting must have gone well, but … that sounded kind of like they’d wiped the floor with Mel. I glance at Brian and he gives me a brief grin - that shark-grin that should warn everyone who sees it to run a fucking mile, because it means that he’s in a take no prisoner mood. Then he nods at her and, after whispering for a moment in Gus’ ear, hands him back to me.

“The court officer may wish to hear from Gus, Mr. Taylor, so could you be sure to stay within a few minutes’ walk of the building.”

I nod at her, and smile at Brian, trying to send him all my love and support.

I feel his hand grip my neck again in one quick squeeze - a caress that means more to me than any host of fucking ‘darlings’ and ‘I love you’s’ from anyone else ever could - and then they walk off down the corridor. At the junction, I see Lindsay with someone that I guess is her lawyer. She looks towards us and Gus gives her a little wave, but then her lawyer hustles her off down the adjoining hallway and Gus and I are left to our own devices again.

 

*****
 

Brian

I can hardly fucking believe it when, as we’re walking down the corridor, Ms. Fucking Hershell drops the little bombshell that I should expect that Mel’s lawyer will be present at these talks. Seems like because they’re less formal than a court proceeding, Mel can still argue that she should have some rights to see Gus. And apparently Lindsay has already agreed for Mel’s lawyer to argue her case. Why am I not fucking surprised?

Then we walk into the room and find Mel’s dyke lawyer there talking to some fucking guy.

Turns out the guy is the court officer who is going to “mediate” our session. For some reason, I’d expected a woman, and the fact that it’s a guy (straight, mid thirties, chunky, rumpled, not even remotely fuckable) isn’t a welcome surprise. At some level, I’d have to fucking admit that … I know I’m going to have to talk about my fucking “feelings” for Gus. Like that’s the important thing … how I fucking feel. Yeah, right. My fucking mother protested that she loved me every fucking day, but it didn’t stop her standing and watching while my father beat the shit out of me. The only “feeling” she really showed over the whole sorry-assed period of my childhood was that she was shit-scared the neighbors would talk about how come I “fell down the fucking stairs” so many times.

So … for me it’s not about how I “feel” about Gus. It’s about how Gus gets treated; how the way he’s treated, the way he’s looked after, makes Gus feel. That’s all that’s fucking important here as far as I’m concerned. If they convinced me my Sonnyboy didn’t want to be with me, didn’t want to see me, that I made him feel bad, then I’d walk away this fucking minute.

But they won’t; they can’t convince me of that … not anymore. Because I’ve seen how happy Gus is to be with me, and to be with his fucking “Dus”. He needs to know that we want to be with him, too. He needs to know we want him in our lives, that he can always count on us to be there for him. That’s what my Sonnyboy needs.

And that’s what he’s going to fucking get.

And if that means I have to talk about my “feelings” for him … well, then that’s what I’ll have to do. Whatever it takes.

But talking all that shit in front of a woman … that’s one thing. Doing it in front of another guy … even one that’s as boring and sexless as this one … that’s … that’s harder. It’s much fucking harder for some reason.

But I guess it’s just going to have to be done.

But before we get to that, I need to know what the fuck Mel’s lawyer is going to get up to. I thought the judge had just ruled that she had no fucking standing in this business, so I’m pissed off that I’m going to have to listen to more of her bullshit. And I’m willing to bet that there’ll be enough of that spread around to grow roses for the whole fucking east coast; with no prizes for guessing who most of that shit will be about.

But I feel Ms. Hershell shift in her seat next to me, and I know that if I look at her, she’ll give me one of her ‘speak out of turn and die’ glares, so I resign myself to keeping my mouth shut till I’m allowed to talk and in the meantime I give my own version of the death glare to Mel’s lawyer.

The guy, Sam somebody, introduces himself and says that he’s there to make sure that we come up with a custody arrangement that represents Gus’ best interests. He makes some yada yada comment about how he hopes we’ll all be happy with the final agreement; but then he also makes it clear that it will be a formal agreement, registered with the court, and happy or not, we’d better fucking abide by it or the court will step in to make sure we do - or to “revisit the agreement”.

In other words, whatever we agree to, we have to stick with it or we might lose whatever we’ve won.

Fair enough.

As long as he really does look out for Gus’ best interests, I don’t have a problem with any of that.

Then he goes round to each of us, making sure he knows who we are and who each of the lawyers is representing.

He comes to Mel’s dyke friend last, and says something like, “I understand that you’re here to represent Ms. Marcus who is unable to be present due to the financial burden presented by travel from Toronto to Pittsburgh with a young child.”

Mel’s lawyer agrees, and starts some sob story about how difficult the she-wolf found it to make that decision but how she simply couldn’t come up with the money, etc., etc. She even implied that Lindsay had cleaned out their bank account to come home, leaving her stranded with nothing.

I’m ready to ignore the dangers of Ms. Hershell’s glare of death, and the only thing that stops me telling this guy what a load of bullshit he’s being told, is that I feel Ms. H. getting ready to intervene herself, but before either of us can say anything, Lindsay’s lawyer jumps in.

“Actually,” she says quietly, “none of those statements are quite accurate. My client’s fare to Pittsburgh, as well as Gus’, and all their accommodation was paid for by Mr. Kinney.”

For a moment, Mel’s lawyer looks like the cat that’s swallowed the cream.

“Exactly,” she snaps. “Mr. Kinney suborned Ms. Peterson into abandoning her daughter, and bringing her son back to the US without his other mother’s consent.”

Both Ms. H. and Lindsay’s attorney start to say something at this, but before they can get anything out, good old Sam intervenes.

“I think you should know,” he says, “that I’ve been briefed on this case by Judge Corelli’s clerk. He has informed me of the judge’s decision this morning, and her ruling that Ms. Marcus has no legal status as Gus’ parent. That being the case, any accusations of parental interference with regard to Ms. Peterson’s bringing Gus back to this country are without any basis in law.”

He pauses for a moment and looks at some other documents in his hand, then goes on, “In any case, given the Canadian government’s repeated requests for both Ms. Peterson and Ms. Marcus to leave Canada, I don’t see how any court could fault Ms. Peterson for complying with their request.”

He looks sternly at Mel’s lawyer and says, “Now can we move on in a more constructive fashion, please?”

I’m ready to let it go at that, but Lindsay’s lawyer clearly doesn’t feel the same way. “In fact,” she says, “Mr. Kinney also paid for an open ticket for Ms. Marcus to visit Pittsburgh, and has given undertakings that he will happily pay for accommodation for her, and for her daughter, for a week’s visit.”

Sam blinks at that, and gives me a look that I can’t read.

Then he turns to Mel’s attorney.

“Is that the case, Ms. Levinson?”

She blusters something about Mel not wanting to undermine her position by accepting anything from me, and Ms. Hershell jumps in with a quiet little remark about how it’s funny that she’d never shown any such scruples before, which makes Sam give her a look. Ms. H. meets it blandly and everyone is quiet for a moment while Sam once more looks through his papers.

“I would not like to appear judgmental in this matter, but I have to admit that if I were asked for my considered opinion, it would be that given how much financial assistance Gus’ mothers have accepted from Mr. Kinney over the years, I believe that Ms. Marcus' failure to appear at this hearing is influenced more by the difficulty she might have in re-entering Canada than it is by any scruples concerning the source of the funds which would have allowed her to be here.”

As Mel’s lawyer goes to protest, he holds up a hand.

“In any case, any arrangement for Ms. Marcus to have any sort of visitation rights with Gus will be solely at the discretion of Ms. Peterson and Mr. Kinney.”

That’s Mel’s lawyer’s cue to jump in with a whole batch of stuff about how I was only ever supposed to be a sperm donor, with no ongoing role in Gus’ life, and of course, what a sorry excuse for a human being I am and how anyone with Gus’ best interests at heart would never let me near my kid.

I try to sit unaffected by all this shit, but it’s fucking hard. Some traitorous part of me wishes Justin was here to … what? Protect me? What am I? Some pussy faggot who needs his hand held when the mean lady says nasty things about him?

Fuck that.

Of course, another, even more traitorous part is tempted to agree and just get up and walk away. But I’ve realized over the last few days that that isn’t an option. It’s not about me. Or Mel either. It’s about Gus. So for his sake I have to hang in there.

But while I’m dealing with my own fucking internal dramas, it dawns on me that good old Sam is looking a little bewildered by all this. He flicks through some of the papers in his file and says, “Ms. Levinson, I can understand that there may have been a verbal agreement prior to Gus’ birth that Mr. Kinney would have no further role in Gus’ life. But the fact is that, as Judge Corelli ruled earlier this morning, any agreement for Mr. Kinney to relinquish his parental rights was never formalized. And in the meantime, it would appear that Mr. Kinney has, in fact, been making very generous support payments ever since Gus was born.”

He looks at her over the top of the papers and says, “If there was never an intent for Mr. Kinney to have any rights or responsibilities towards Gus, then I find it difficult to understand why that would be the case.”

Mel’s lawyer barely bats an eye.

“Those weren’t support payments,” she says. “They were gifts. It was at Mr. Kinney’s sole discretion and there was never any requirement or indeed expectation that these would continue.”

I sit dumbfounded. Because she’s right in a way. I mean, I never signed anything saying I’d pay so much a month or anything. But …

Shit!

But Ms. Hershell tilts her head a little, and says, in that quiet-but-deadly way of hers, “Well, that claim is false. And we can prove that it’s false.”

Everyone looks at her, and she smiles and pulls from her briefcase a paper that I don’t immediately recognize.

“Immediately after Gus’ birth,” she says, “and at Ms. Marcus’ direct instigation, Gus’ mothers requested that Mr. Kinney take out a million dollar insurance policy naming Gus as the beneficiary.”

There’s a pause … I guess while everyone tries to work out the significance of this.

“I fail to see that there could be any need to insure Mr. Kinney’s life for such a sum if there was no expectation that he would be making, during his lifetime, a substantial financial contribution to Gus’ support.”

Sam looks at the paper, and nods, and then asks Lindsay directly if it was true that they had asked me to take out that fucking policy.

She looks cornered for a moment, but then nods. “Yes,” she says. “Yes it was. And I always intended that Gus would know his father, that Brian would have some sort of a role in Gus’ life. Even if he wasn’t … officially … Gus’ parent.”

Sam nods again, and then turns to the dyke lawyer and says, “I would have to agree, Ms. Levinson, that the fact that Ms. Marcus apparently felt it necessary for Mr. Kinney to make such a provision for Gus argues that there was definitely an expectation that during his lifetime Mr. Kinney would be expected to contribute financially to his son's support.”

He pauses for a moment, and then says, “Which, of course, also indicates an expectation that Mr. Kinney definitely would have an ongoing role in his son’s life.”

There’s another slight pause, and then he says, with an edge of pure fucking nastiness in his voice that I can actually admire, “Unless, of course, it was envisioned that Mr. Kinney’s sole role was to provide financial assistance with no further rights or privileges where his son is concerned. And if that was the intention, then I can assure you that as an officer of this court I would have to take a very dim view of such an exploitative approach.”

Ms. Fucking Levinson starts up again about what an asshole I am and how just being around me would totally fuck Gus up, but this time Ms. Hershell cuts her off with another of her deadly verbal missiles.

“The fact is that similar claims were made in front of Judge Corelli. However, we’ve supplied character statements from two of Mr. Kinney’s colleagues, a tribute from one of his clients lauding not only his work ethic, but also his selfless charitable works, a further tribute from one of the charities for whom Mr. Kinney has done fund-raising, and another character statement from an experienced member of the Pittsburgh Police department. Further, we’ve supplied copies of all the documents relating to Mr. Kinney’s partnership with Mr. Justin Taylor. Mr. Kinney and Mr. Taylor have been in a stable relationship for over three years now.”

Lindsay shifts in her seat at that, but Sam is peering at the papers, and Ms. Hershell goes on, “They have joint property agreements, living wills, survivorship documents and both have made out wills in each other’s favor with Gus being named as the legatee to both wills should they both decease at the same time."

Sam has a quick glance through the papers my highly paid, but just maybe possibly worth it attorney points out to him, and nods.

Then he looks up at Mel’s dyke friend again, and says, “Mr. Kinney’s so-called promiscuity is of no concern to this court unless it adversely impacts on his son, and no evidence has been provided that it is permitted to do so. In fact, despite this so-called promiscuity, it seems Mr. Kinney is in a stable, long-term relationship. And far from being the drug-addled incompetent whom your client claims him to be, he appears, in fact, to be a highly respected businessman who runs a very successful company in a highly competitive field. Not to mention his generous support of various charitable causes. In fact, Mr. Kinney would appear to be a model citizen without so much as an outstanding parking ticket. So unless you have any means of substantiating such claims, when all the evidence points to the contrary, I must advise you that to persist will bring you under the censure of the court.”

Ms. Fucking Levinson starts gobbling at that and for one intense instant I wish Justin was here so that we could fucking celebrate this moment together, but I take a deep breath and concentrate on the here and now. There’ll be time for celebration later. I hope.

Mel’s bitch lawyer starts saying something about how Gus will be scarred for life if he doesn’t get to see his Moma, and how we’re all out to get her, with no regard to Gus’ feelings; but Sam isn’t having any.

He’s fast losing patience with her bullshit, and says in that snide voice all these fucking law-types seem to use when they want to be particularly nasty without getting hauled over the coals for insulting someone outright, “Ms. Levinson, I don’t think you fully understand how shaky your client’s position is. Not only is she in breach of a Canadian government request for her to leave the country, she is likely to be sanctioned by the Pennsylvania Bar Council for her actions in this matter. She has misrepresented to Mr. Kinney the status of the agreement she drew up and asked him to sign; she has attempted to mislead the court as to the status of the same document; since she was Mr. Kinney’s attorney of record at the time she could also be accused of gross conflict of interest both in drawing up the document herself and also in not advising him to seek other legal advice on the matter; she has at best failed to disclose fully her reasons for not attending this custody facilitation; and, in attempting to present to the court material relating to the child molestation charges brought against Mr. Kinney by his nephew which she knew to be false, and making further unsubstantiated allegations regarding Mr. Kinney’s character and conduct she has not only been attempting to mislead the court, but could actually face libel action if Mr. Kinney is so inclined.”

Fuck!

“Now,” says Sam, “Rather than waste any more time with Ms. Marcus’ claims, I suggest that we move on to discuss what arrangements Ms. Peterson and Mr. Kinney are prepared to agree to.”

So after all the fucking angst in the end it’s easy.

Linds and I had already discussed this. I don’t want to supplant her as Gus’ primary care giver. I just want to make sure that my Sonnyboy gets to see his Dad whenever he wants to.

So we agree that I can see him three times a week, on a schedule to be agreed, and he can spend one weekend a month with Justin and I once we’ve moved into the house. Plus Lindsay won’t attempt to take him out of the country - or even out of the State, without my written approval - signed and witnessed this time in front of a notary.

We also agree that if Melanie comes back to Pittsburgh, any time she spends with Gus will be supervised by someone from the child welfare agency until the Court is convinced that she is not a flight risk. Unless Mel and Linds get back together of course - and never say never on that front either. They’re both fucked up enough to keep doing this to each other.

But if they do get back together, then there will be ground rules on where they can live, and how Gus gets treated by Melanie. Or else I have the right to step in and ask that we review the custody arrangements - maybe even sue for full custody.

So at least my Sonnyboy has some kind of safety net.

The last thing on the agenda is the only one that Lindsay kicks up over, but I’m adamant, and once Sam sees all the fucking paperwork that Justin and I signed all those months ago, he suggests that Justin bring Gus in so we can all discuss it together.

 

*****
 

Justin

Gus and I are sitting in the coffee shop drawing together when my cell rings. It’s some woman from the court asking me to bring Gus back because there are still one or two things to settle.

I can’t tell by her tone of voice what’s going on, so we hurry back.

I’m trying to stay really calm so that I don’t upset Gus, but just as we’re about to walk through the door, he says, “Dus, don’t let them make me go away again. Please.”

I bend down, hug him and tell him that neither his Daddy nor I will let that happen. Then I cross my fingers and hope it’s a promise we can keep.

He’s clinging to my hand when we walk in, and seeing all the strange faces, everyone so serious, he turns and hides his face against my hip. I don’t want to make everyone think he’s a baby who doesn’t know what he wants, so I don’t pick him up, I just stroke his hair, and say quietly, “It’s okay, Gus. Daddy is here. And Mommy.”

He looks round then, and, ignoring Lindsay who’s holding out her hand, he runs to his father. Brian picks him up and sits him on his knee and Gus hugs him tightly.

“Hey, Sonnyboy,” Brian says. “This man is helping us work out where you’re going to live and he wants to ask you a couple of questions. Is that okay?”

“I want to live in Pi’ssburgh,” Gus announces firmly (and if Brian thinks I miss his little smirk at the mispronunciation he’s totally delusional). “I don’t want to go back to T’ronto.”

The guy who seems to be the court representative or whatever, smiles at him.

“Do you like being able to see your Daddy more often, Gus?” he asks.

Gus nods firmly. “And my Dus,” he says.

The guy raises an eyebrow.

“That’s his name for Justin,” Brian says.

“He can’t pronounce his “j’s” very well yet,” Lindsay chips in. And something in the way she says it makes me look at her very closely. Her voice sounded … I don’t know … spiteful … color me surprised. What the fuck is going on with her now?

“I can too,” Gus pipes up, getting upset again the way he did the other day in the diner.

Brian intervenes again, like he did then. “He can say Justin’s name just fine,” he explains. “But he doesn’t call him ‘Justin’ just like he doesn’t call me ‘Brian’. As far as Gus is concerned, he has a Daddy … that’s me … and he has a Dus … that’s Justin.”

Sam nods, then smiles again at Gus. “Is that right, Gus? You have a Daddy and a Dus?”

Gus smiles back at him, relieved that he’s been understood. “And a Mommy and a Moma,” he says. Then he frowns. “But Moma’s been mean to us and she isn’t with us anymore.”

He brightens. “So now it’s just Mommy and Daddy and Dus … and I get to see my Daddy and my Dus a lot. So I like it better,” he finishes.

Sam nods.

“Well, that seems to make Gus’ views very clear.”

“Now, Mr. Taylor, I understand that you and Mr. Kinney are in a committed relationship, is that correct?”

I swallow deeply and nod. This is the first fucking time that we’ve really made that commitment public - well, aside from the house-dinner thing that wound up being more about me moving to New York than it was about Brian and me announcing that we were together. Or it seemed like that to everyone else at least.

“Yes,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “Yes, we are.”

“Justin, really …” Lindsay interrupts. “You’ve only been back a couple of weeks. How long will it be before you leave him again?”

I glare at her.

“Lindsay, I’ve only ever left Brian once … and that was a long time ago now. I had to go to Los Angeles for a few months for my work, and I had to go to New York for a few months for the same reason. But that didn’t mean we weren’t together. It just meant we had to live in different cities for a while.”

I turn to Sam. “I’m an artist. Sometimes I have to go where the work or the opportunity is. But both times that’s happened we’ve both known that it was only a temporary separation. It didn’t in any way mean that we’d broken up or anything.”

Sam nods. “My partner’s in the armed forces,” he says. “She’s posted overseas at the moment. It’s tough.”

I nod.

“But I agree, the fact that we are living in different places is purely circumstantial. It has no significance at all in terms of how we feel about each other.”

“Exactly,” I say.

“So, Mr. Taylor. If something should happen to Mr. Kinney, you would be prepared to continue your relationship with Gus.”

So that’s what this is about. I should have fucking known. Brian and I discussed it. If you can call it that.

We were in the shower, and I was trying to blow him quickly before Gus came looking for us, and Brian said, “So, I’m assuming you know he’ll expect you to go on being Dus even if I die young and beautiful.”

I nearly choked, but the movement of my throat made him come - with a vengeance, and by the time I’d swallowed, and gotten my breath back, he was already reaching for a towel. I scrambled up, my head spinning … maybe the cancer … but he shook his head at me so that all the water drops sprayed round the bathroom and said, “Don’t turn it into a prime time drama … I’m just saying … whatever happens … you’re his Dus now.”

So then I heard what he was saying … that if anything did happen to him he needed to know that I’ll always be there for Gus.

“I’ll always be his Dus, Brian,” I told him.

He nodded, and that’s all that was said.

But I guess that while we’re getting all this stuff sorted, he wants to make that formal as well. So that if something does happen to him, the girls can’t fuck with it.

The guy nods.

“Ms. Peterson, I understand that you’re reluctant to accept this stipulation that Mr. Kinney wants to make … that if anything should happen to him, Mr. Taylor should retain the same visitation rights with Gus.”

Lindsay purses her lips together, but her lawyer starts whispering to her, and I hear something about “more than generous”, so I’m guessing that they’re talking about all the money Brian is prepared to commit to handing over to her. Typically, whatever it is the lawyer says, Lindsay winds up shrugging, and her lawyer says, “As long as it’s clearly understood that, in the event of Mr. Kinney’s death, if Mr. Taylor wishes to maintain his visitation rights, it will be expected that Ms. Peterson will continue to receive the same support payments as have been agreed this morning, then we’re happy to proceed on that basis.”

Shit!

It looks like I'm a father. Or a "Dus" at least.

Holy fuck!

My Mom's a grandma - she's going to have a cow.