Homework

Chapter 8:  Saturday at the Movies

 

Justin

Somehow we've managed to fall into some kind of rhythm in our lives. It's been two weeks now since Daph came on board and it's made things so very much easier on both Brian and me. And on Gus, I think. He loves Daph. They get together and giggle and gang up on Brian and me; but at the same time Gus seems to know how far he can push it with her and doesn't give her too much of a hard time.

The work on the kitchen is finished now, thank God. It's amazing to have a proper space to cook and to eat. It makes a lot of difference, especially for Gus. And it means that we just have more space. Outside of the bedrooms, we can now spread through the main room, the media room, the kitchen and dining areas and Brian's study. So there's always somewhere that one of us can go where there isn't anyone else to bother them if we need a bit of down time.

I mean, Brian and I are still pretty new at the whole sharing space with each other thing, let alone with a five year old thrown into the mix.

We've established some rules … like for Gus's stuff. He can have his toys in the media room and even in the main room, as long as he puts them away each night before he goes to bed. (Marty found us this great looking cube that we can use as a coffee table but which has a bin plus a shelf to put some of Gus's toys in so he doesn't have to take them all upstairs every time.) But no toys in the kitchen or dining area, and absolutely none in Brian's study. In fact, the study is kind of a no-go area for all of us unless Brian invites us in there. Well, except for Daphne … she's free to use it to study when we're out and she's on night-nanny duties.

That means Brian always has somewhere he can escape to if he needs to. And, meal times aside (if we're here for meals it's kind of an unspoken rule that we're expected to front up and eat together), we don't … well, specifically Brian doesn't have to justify it if he wants to go into the study and shut the rest of us out for a while. He might be working or he might be having sex in some chat room, but that's okay. I never want him to feel like he has to explain why he needs time alone or what he's doing.

Unless he's working on something really urgent, he waits until Gus has gone to bed. I honestly think that he's surprising himself by pretty much enjoying coming home and playing Daddy for a couple of hours every night. He lets Gus tell him all about his day, and goes through any "homework" with him and they usually find time for playing with Gus's cars and trucks or building some Leggo or whatever and …

It sounds fatuous … I mean, I know that nothing can ever really make up for the shitty childhood Brian had … but it's like when he's doing these things with Gus … it somehow … it's almost like he's sharing in Gus's childhood and that's giving him a type of experience that he's never had before and somehow helping to heal some of that old damage. Plus he really is learning that he's nothing like his fucking father, and that's also … well, it's making a difference to him. That's all. I can't really articulate how or why, but I can see things in him that have always been knotted up or stretched tight kind of relaxing and unwinding, just a little bit, every day. And every time Gus gives him one of those big smiles or hugs and acts like he thinks his Dad is just the best thing ever on the planet, Brian kind of gets this … I don't know … surprised look … on his face and it just … it melts my heart.

If I was still that stupid fucking kid he picked up on the street corner I'd have major allergy attacks every time I see it.

As for me, I have my laptop set up in the media room if I want to just surf, or answer emails or shit once Gus has gone to bed; but if I want to do any serious work, I head off to the studio. I've done that a couple of nights because I wanted to get the "Love&Hate" painting finished and start working on the second one I want ready for the Warhol in case they don't like "Love&Hate".

Love&Hate

I've prepped the canvas for the second one now, and started kind of drafting what I think the images will be like. In my mind, it's all very dark and in the foreground there's this looming figure towering over a smaller figure, who's kind of cowering away, but at the same time kind of trying to stand their ground. I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to make it work, but I hope so. If I don't use it for the Warhol, it will be something for my own show in New York.

Fuck! New York! Even thinking about it makes me feel like I'm in some kind of surreal movie about my life or something. It's hard to believe that it's really going to happen.

But the show – my own fucking show - is a done deal now. The contract has been signed and we are just finalizing the dates.

I haven't told anyone about that yet. Well, Daph knows because Brian spilled the fucking beans to her and she totally gave me a hard time over why I hadn't told her. And my Mom knows. But we haven't told anyone else yet.

I guess we're going to need to do that soon, because the publicity will be starting in a few weeks and we'll never hear the end of it if anyone reads about it somewhere before we tell them.

Shit!

Maybe we can announce it at the party. That is if we manage to survive the planning for the damned thing. There are seriously times when Brian is a lot closer to death than he thinks.

 

*****
 

Brian

We've got things running fairly smoothly now. Most nights Daphne comes over which means that Justin can head off to his studio if he needs to without feeling like he's abandoning me or some shit.

I've been spending time working at home in the evenings instead of working late at the office. That way I can see Gus and spend some time with him before he goes to bed, but still keep on top of everything. We've signed two new clients in the last month and there are a couple of big campaigns about to launch. I can't leave everything to Theodore and Cynthia, but I do want my kid to remember who I am, not just be someone he sees for maybe a few minutes every morning. I might be biased, but Gus is an incredible kid. He really is as smart as I used to think I was. I didn't ever think I'd find anything to really enjoy about hanging round with a five year old, but watching him learn new stuff, every day … that's actually pretty fucking amazing.

What's even more amazing is that he seems to like hanging out with me, too.

Who'd ever have thought it, boys and girls? I might turn out to be a half way okay Dad after all.

Some nights Daphne heads home right after dinner if the little twat and I are both planning on staying in. A couple of times we've gone out – to Woody's, once even to Babylon. And Justin went to some arty-farty thing that PIFA were running and invited him to. Seems like word has gotten around about his gig at the Warhol gallery anyway, so the fucking creeps who gave him such a hard time are now sniffing around, all set to kiss his ass.

I'm betting that once the little twat gets the rave reviews he's due at his New York show, that fucking institute will be all over themselves ready to offer him some honorary degree or whatever. Which is bullshit. But useful bullshit. I'll have to make sure he lets his agent know if they offer anything like that. It's probably too early for a doctorate (although that will fucking come, I bet), but at least we should be able to negotiate a Masters for him.

And the only fucking downside about that is that he'll make sure I fucking know that "see, Brian, I didn't need to finish my degree after all". Fucker!

The kitchen has finally been done, and now the builders are mainly working on the area around the pool. I wanted to install the glass bricks along the side walls to let in more light, but Stephane persuaded me that more of the folding French windows would be a better option so that the place has a more open feel in the summer months.

Of course, with the extra insulation needed for those, it's more costly, but I think he's probably right. If we can open it up on two sides, it will almost be like having an outdoor pool in summer, and yet we can use it all year round.

I'm also having a small restroom fitted down there, and having the shower area enlarged. At the moment it's pretty primitive, and I like to be able to wash the chlorine and shit off my skin as soon as I climb out of the pool, so it makes sense to have facilities that make it easier to do that.

Plus we're replacing some of the decking that's over the pool area with glass, so that will be more light as well. All of that is almost done now. They're still painting, and giving the finishing touch to the slate tiles around the pool area, but it's all still on fucking track for the Big Event on Memorial Day weekend.

Justin and the party queen are having orgasms planning all that.

I don't give a shit what they come up with. I just want to have something that makes a fucking statement about how fabulous we are, and how fucking fabulous our new house is and tells all the fuckers who didn't think we'd make it how fucking wrong they were.

I don't give a shit what there is to eat as long as it's not cheap crap from some deli and not too fucking fattening, and not Deb's fucking tuna casserole, although I bet she fucking brings some of that too that will haunt our freezer for fucking months.

And I don't give a fuck what anyone drinks as long as it's not cheap, weak-as-piss local beer, or vinegar from some so-called winery outside Cleveland. Or some no-name brand vodka that was on special. All I ask is that whatever liquor is in this house is the fucking good stuff. How hard is that?

Just like I don't give a shit whether we have a cake or not. But if we do, it better not look like some fucking wedding cake and if there's anything remotely resembling some fucking groom-and-groom I'll toss the damned thing in the garbage before anyone can say 'who wants a slice?'.

And on that subject … whoever heard of fucking "Red Velvet" Cake? What is that shit? Let alone with "marshmallow icing". Christ! The only time I've eaten anything with marshmallow icing was years ago when Claire was trying to impress some loser she was dating by inviting him over for dinner and making a cake. Joanie and Jack made it clear I'd better show and behave myself so that we could all "make a good impression", but given that Jack had been out with the boys for a few drinks and got home late and totally wasted, and Joanie had taken a "few" sips of sherry to steady her nerves, that was a totally lost cause from the beginning. It was all pretty much a fucking disaster even before Claire brought out the cake. I don't know what the stupid bitch had done, but the so-called marshmallow icing was like some kind of rubber. You couldn't even put a dent in it with a fucking carving knife, let alone chew it. Seriously, if we could work out what she'd done we could have patented the stuff and sold it to the army or some shit, it was so damned indestructible.

But the point is, I don't give a fuck what we eat or drink or whether there's a cake or what fucking flavor it is, I just wish the pair of them would pull their heads out of their asses and just make whatever decisions need to be made without fucking hassling me all the time.

Especially as dear little Sunshine seems to think it's a fucking good idea to wait until the house is fucking quiet and we're about to enjoy some serious "Daddy" time before he launches his latest campaign to get me to approve some hideous shit like a fucking ice sculpture or whatever fucked up idea they've come up with for the menu.

Yesterday it was some damned Asian crab omelet. Christ! Even I know that you don't serve something like that at a fucking buffet because the eggs will go rubbery if they're not eaten really hot.

So between trying to keep the merry pair of party planners from doing anything totally fucking idiotic and making sure the builders don't fuck anything up, not to mention running my own fucking business … it's been a kind of busy couple of weeks.

But at least Gus seems happy.

And so is the little twat. Even when I shut him down about Red Fucking Velvet cake and crab fucking omelets.

So I guess it's been okay.

Tonight is Friday night and Gus is spending the night at Jenn's so we can go party at Babylon.

Then tomorrow there's a preview or some shit of some animated kids' movie, so we're taking Gus.

And my mother.

 

*****
 

Justin

The one thing that, predictably, Brian has been a complete asshole about is the party.

Of course.

On the one hand, it's all "I don't give a fuck what we have to eat or drink or any-fucking-thing and why can't you and Emmett just make all the decisions?".

And on the other, he's being a total passive-aggressive control freak like always and wants the final say on everything.

But we've pretty much got the menu nailed now, at least.

I finally worked out that the way to handle it is to present him with two options and let him choose. But the trick is to make one of the options totally ridiculous. That way he gets to enjoy ranting about how dumb that option is and then he picks the other one, which is the one I wanted in the first place anyway.

So everyone is happy.

It's kind of exhausting, but it's also actually quite funny. I keep waiting for him to work out what I'm doing. I suspect my ass will pay a forfeit when he does, but that's actually an even bigger incentive to keep doing it until I get busted.

The other thing that happened this week was that he went to see Joanie.

I didn't know. He let me know that he'd be a bit late home and he seemed okay when he did get home so I'd never have guessed he'd spent time with his mother.

But after Gus had gone to bed he was kind of all antsy like he gets when he wants to say something but can't find the words.

Finally he said something about a preview for some animated feature that's happening this weekend. One of his clients has something to do with running the previews, and he was offered tickets. Turns out it's a family movie by Dreamworks called "Madagascar" and it's voiced by people like Ben Stiller, and Chris Rock and stuff. So it might be really good.

They're having a few screenings through the day and Brian got tickets for an early session so that we can take Gus.

And apparently he's invited his Mom to go with us.

His rationale was that now that she knows about Gus, "she's going to keep fucking hanging around" so he figured this would be a way that she could spend a little time with Gus, without actually being able to say much to him. So that kind of minimizes the risk of her saying something that would upset him. Plus, it's Mothers' Day this coming Sunday and we have plans to spend some time with my Mom. I guess both of us have been wondering what, if anything, he or we should do about Joan.

So I kind of understand the logic, I was just surprised that he thought of it.

The thing is that after I had coffee with Joanie a few weeks ago, she called my Mom. Apparently they talked on the phone for a while, and Mom told us last weekend that they'd had lunch together. She didn't say what they talked about, but she did tell Brian that she thought Joanie was 'trying'.

Brian of course made some crack about her being "very fucking trying", but I guess he's been thinking about it.

The thing about Brian is … he's incredibly loyal. He finds it really hard to turn his back on anyone that he's let into his life, no matter how badly they might treat him. It's one of the reasons that he does his best not to let many people in.

Not that he "let" his family in, of course. Most of us are born with our family being entrenched as part of who we are, and Brian's no different, no matter how much he'd like to deny it.

So I guess he … I think if I believed that maybe there was a chance to turn things around and have a relationship with my fucking asshole father, I would probably be willing to maybe not entirely shut the door on that. And I guess that's how Brian feels.

So maybe he's willing to just … give her some kind of chance and see what happens. Of course, he's doing his best to protect Gus in the process, and in that context, this kind of makes sense.

So tomorrow we're all going to the movies together.

I wish my Mom could come as well, but of course Saturday is a big day for realtors because it's when most of the auctions are held, so she can't come. Molly's coming though, so it really will be a family outing.

Fuck!

I bet Brian has nightmares tonight just thinking about the fact that real life has finally caught up with him and he's become a "family man".

I guess I'll just have to find a way or two tonight at Babylon to remind him that as far as I'm concerned, he's still the hottest stud on the planet.

 

*****
 

Brian

Babylon was its usual Friday night self, full of sweaty, horny queers, some of whom don't know when to keep their fucking eyes and their hands to themselves.

But they'll learn. They better. If they don't they'll find they get fucking banned for life.

Little Sunshine, who is a grade A fucking prick tease when he wants to be, enjoyed shaking his booty and having every fag in the place panting after him. But it was me he lured into the backroom and my cock he deep-throated before I fucked him nearly senseless, so all those losers can just …

Anyway, Babylon was fine.

I even got something almost like a sleep-in this morning. That is, instead of being woken up at seven a.m. by a child demanding food, I got woken up at eight a.m. by a child demanding to know if I wanted food; with damned Dus hovering in the background laughing.

We did some shit around the house and then I drove all over Pittsburgh collecting the people I'd been stupid enough to invite to this fucking movie preview.

We'd decided on a late morning session, so that Gus wouldn't fall asleep (which he might have done in the afternoon) and it was all going okay.

Molly was sitting next to Justin, and Gus was sitting between me and Joanie. That way I could keep an eye on both my Sonnyboys and make sure there was nothing in the movie that was too scary for them.

Of course, in the end it wasn't them who wound up shaking like some fucking lame little faggot.

The movie had been going for maybe twenty minutes. I was bored out of my mind, but Gus and Justin were both glued to the fucking screen, so who cares? Then Gus turned around to offer me some popcorn and just like that I remembered …

I would have been about Gus's age … maybe a little younger.

Mom took us to the movies – me and Claire, to see some Christmas thing. I can't remember exactly.

I do remember her telling us all the way home that we mustn't tell Daddy.

But of course that's just what fucking Claire did at dinner and Jack predictably went ballistic.

He was yelling about wasting his money on stupid movies for stupid kids who should never have been born in the first place and then he hit her.

I remember running from the room feeling so scared I thought my heart was going to burst right out of my chest.

And Claire screaming.

And Mom sobbing, these horrible rasping sobs that sounded like she was dying, but nothing else, not screaming, not even begging him to stop.

I remember running and squeezing myself into a hole behind the washing machine in the laundry where I couldn't see anything, and hopefully Jack couldn't see me. But I could still hear everything; I remember hearing the thumps and the cursing and that dreadful sobbing going on for a very long time.

Next day one of Mom's friends came by and we went to stay with her for a few days.

I guess maybe one of the men had a word with Jack, and things settled down for a while, so we went right back into his house, and my mother went back into his bed.

How the fuck she could do that I don't know. I've never understood it. If Justin put up with that sort of shit from me, I thinking I'd fucking kill him. Or more likely, off myself.

Except, that's the way things were done in our neighborhood, among the families we knew. The women did what they could to help each other and the men did what they could to make sure no one actually got killed, but apart from that you didn't talk about it, you just covered up the bruises as best you could and kept going.

The thing that shocks me, now that the memory of that movie trip has suddenly surfaced is … well, there's two things, actually.

One is that we had a good time at the movie; we really did; it's the only time I can remember doing anything even vaguely like that with my mother but we had a great time together that day.

The other fucking shocker is that when Jack first got to his feet and started yelling, she was the one who snatched me out of the way and pushed me out the door. Right before he started hitting her.

I've never remembered that before.

 

*****
 

Justin

I'm watching the movie and all of a sudden I feel Brian start shaking – I mean really shaking, like he's about to fall apart.

I thought at first maybe he was laughing, but then I got a look at his face and …

Fuck!

I never want to see him look like that again.

Never.

I grab his hand to get his attention and put my arm round his shoulders. He's kind of slumped down into his seat, like he usually does at the cinema, so we're pretty much on the same level and that makes it a little bit easier to pull his head onto my shoulder and encourage him to bury his face in my neck.

He lets me, too, so I know things are fucking bad.

He just hangs on for a while till the shakes kind of fade.

Gus is giving him funny looks, but I just smile at him across Brian as reassuringly as I can and he goes back to watching the movie.

Finally, Brian sits up and grabs some of the napkins that we got with the popcorn to wipe his face. I'm not sure if he'd been crying, and there is no way I'm going to even mention the possibility, so I just hand him what's left of the giant cup of coke I've been sharing with Molly and he drinks most of it down in one gulp.

I ask him quietly if he wants to leave, but he just shrugs me off, so I let it go.

Whatever the fuck happened, he'll tell me about it in his own time. Or he won't. Who knows, with Brian? But you can't force him to share shit that he doesn't want to share. That's the sure way to trigger some of his less endearing behaviors.

I've learned that the hard way.

By the time the movie is over, he seems okay again and when we go out into the parking lot, he surprises the Hell out me (as he so often does) by asking where everyone wants to go for lunch. Molly wants Mickey Dee's – like that is going to happen when Brian's involved, but in the end we settle for pizza at a little place we've found not far from the house.

He's still got a kind of dazed look in his eye, and he's avoiding looking at his mother, but …

Gus was sitting between them. She can't have done or said anything to him in the cinema. I can't work out what's going on here, but I kind of sense it's something big. I can only hope it doesn't blow up in front of Gus. I take a deep breath and while I'm helping everyone get in the car I'm trying to work out contingency plans - like how I'll get Gus and Molly home if Brian just takes off. That kind of shit.

But I'm hoping he won't do that. I need him not to do that. I need him to let me help with this, whatever the fuck it is.

I need that.

But it's not about what I need right now. I have to figure out what Brian needs, and try to work out how to make it happen. Just like he would for me.

 

*****
 

Brian

Just the smell of him grounds me; the mix of citrus shampoo and Sandalwood aftershave and the underlying scent of pure Justin reminds me that this is now, not then, and I gradually stop behaving like a totally pathetic little twat and get myself together enough to sit up and watch the movie and stop freaking out my kid.

The caffeine from the cola helps and although I'd love a fucking smoke, I'm aware that Gus is giving me little anxious looks every now and again, so I reach out and ruffle his hair and then let my hand rest on the back of his neck. He smiles at me then and I smile back at him. It means more to me than I could ever put into words that whatever mistakes I might make with Gus, he is never going to have the type of nightmare fucking childhood memories that have haunted me all my fucking life.

I don't want to look at my mother. Can't look at her. Don't know what I should be thinking or feeling about her.

She'd told me a time or two that she'd tried to protect me from Jack and I'd pretty much called her a liar. But she wasn't lying. At least … it wasn't always a lie.

Part of me wants to get in the car and drive off and leave all of them behind … to go get my dick sucked, or get wasted, or better yet, get wasted and get my dick sucked, and sat on and generally serviced to the point where I don't remember my own name anymore.

But, like someone once said, that seems counter-productive to my goals. At least, if my goal is to behave like a fucking adult for once in my life. So instead of pulling that shit, I resign myself to the fact that both Gus and the little twat are going to want feeding soon, so we might as well get everybody fed before I take them home.

And maybe part of that is that I want the chance to maybe talk or some shit with Joanie about what just happened in there.

Maybe.

So after I squelch any idea that I'm going to feed my kid anymore crap other than what he's already eaten at the movies, we head off to the pizza place that Justin found last week. It's okay. The pizzas are no more greasy than anywhere else and they serve a decent Caesar salad. Plus they fucking get it that when I say I want the dressing on the side, that's what I fucking mean. I do not mean I want a salad drowned in dressing with more of the shit in a jug by my plate.

So we all settle down at a table, and order. I'm still avoiding looking at Joanie, and I think she gets that something's up, because she's talking a little too loudly to Justin and to Gus. Molly she is kind of ignoring. I suppose she's trying to work out how Jennifer could trust her daughter to two fags for the day, but at least she's still being civil.

Gus catches sight of the kitchen area where the guys are tossing the pizza dough. He's craning his neck to watch them and Justin suggests that Molly take him down there so he can see properly. She seems like she's about to argue, but Gus slides off his seat and takes her hand and bats his eyes at her and she falls victim right away to the Kinney charm. Or maybe it's the lessons he's been getting from his fucking Dus on how to wind Dadda right round his little finger that are starting to pay off.

Whatever it is, Molly can't resist it and they both head off to the back of the restaurant. Out of the danger area.

I'm determined that I'm not going to cave to this blatant effort of young Sunshine's to get me to talk, so I have no fucking idea why I find myself saying, "I remembered going to that Christmas movie with you and Claire.'

That's all. But that's all I have to say and she's remembering too. All of it. Her face kind of tightens, and her lips pinch in and I wait for one of her fucking denials that anything ever fucking happened in our house that shouldn't have. Especially because Justin is sitting here with us.

But she surprises me.

"I've been talking to Father Tom about those times."

I risk a look at Justin and see him putting all the dots together and making a picture that he doesn't much like. But he doesn't say anything.

Smart little fucker that he is.

"Back in those days," she says in a weirdly detached kind of voice, "my confessors used to tell me that it was my duty to my family to just … to keep doing my duty as a wife and to pray for God's help to cope with it all."

Her face twists and if I didn't know better, I'd say she looks ready to fucking cry.

"Father Tom says they were wrong to do that. That nowadays they would help; if necessary they would even help a woman leave, find her somewhere to go that was safe."

"But back then …"

She looks straight at me.

"They told me I would go to Hell if I abandoned my marriage, turned my back on the vows that I'd made."

She gulps and then says in a voice that sounds almost like the fucking sobs that are still echoing around my memories, "God help me, I believed them."

We stare at each other.

I guess we're at some fucking impasse.

From her side, with her background, she did the only thing she knew to do – she did what the fucking priests told her to do.

From mine … she put her fucking Church before her children, before their safety.

Before mine.

So now we stare at each other. Two strangers bound by a shared history of violence and abuse.

I have no idea where we go from here.

I offer the only thing I have.

"It was a long time ago."

She looks at me like she's seeing how I can't help judging her, can't help believing that she fucking failed me, failed us both, Claire and I.

I feel like both of us are ready to fucking break, we're so damned fragile right now.

But Justin comes to the rescue, like I should have known he would.

"Brian's right. It's a long time ago now. And it's good that you're talking to your priest about it."

She blinks a little, like she's coming out of some deep fucking trance, and then she turns to Sunshine.

"I've been talking to Father Tom about you, too. About you and Brian."

Fuck! I'd love to have been a fly on the wall during that one.

Justin and I share a quick look and I have another, more pleasant, memory flash. Heat and sweat and the smell of sex; watching little Sunshine plough the ass of some guy, while I'm fucking her priest. Good old Father Tom.

"He says that even within the Church there is a great division about just how the Bible should be read on the subject of homo … homo-sex-uality."

She says the word awkwardly, like Gus, when he's learning to pronounce something new.

"So we shouldn't rush to judgment. He says that he believes that God makes us all, and God doesn't make mistakes, so we should be prepared to accept each other as we are, as God made us."

I shrug, feeling the resentment building.

I don't need fucking Father Tom's blessing on my fucking life.

But Justin smiles at her. "That's what the pastor at my Mom's church says, too," he tells her.

Fucker!

But I'm saved from any more of this ridiculous fucking conversation by the return of my son and his … fuck! Molly is his "auntie".

I wonder if she's worked that out yet.

Seems like this fucking family of mine gets bigger every fucking day and I have no control over that at all.

But Justin is still talking to my mother, and Gus is running back to our table and babbling about how he saw them making our pizzas and putting them in the ovens and all the different shit that's on them and as he climbs onto his seat, he turns and just fucking beams at me; like this is the best day ever and he can't think of anywhere he'd rather be or anyone he'd rather be with than me, his old man; and his beloved Dus of course.

And suddenly I don't care about all that other shit.

All I know is that it's a sunny day, and they're predicting that tomorrow is going to be even better and I have visions of taking my two boys and getting away from all of it; taking the boat out on the river and leaving it all behind.

Except that it's fucking Mothers' Day and Sunshine has to spend time with Mother Taylor. And so does Gus, I guess. And me. I owe her that much at least, because she's come through for us big time these last few weeks. Plus Gus loves his fucking Grandma, which isn't surprising, since she spoils him fucking rotten. She says it's a grandmother's privilege.

Well … maybe we could all go out on the boat for a couple of hours.

Jenn and Molly and …

"We're going to take the boat out tomorrow," I hear myself say. "We're going to ask Justin's mother, and Molly if they want to join us.

"Do you want to come?"
 

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