“Dad,
can we stop by the store before the party and get a different gift?
Maybe, like, an iTunes gift card or something? I don’t want Ronnie
Frasier to think I’m lame.”
“Ronnie’s a good friend, he won’t
think that,” Trevor told him.
Josh shot him a look. “This is junior
high, dad. It’s like the Serengeti. One week you’re friends with
the lions, the next week you’re their entree. I don’t want to do
anything totally stupid and piss off the lions.”
“If you really want to, we can stop
off and get a gift card on the way to the bowling alley,” Trevor
told him.
“Does that mean I can keep the Lego
set?” Josh asked.
“That wouldn’t have been your ulterior
motive all along, would it?” Vincent asked with a grin.
“No, Dad,” the kid said flatly. “My
ulterior motive is always the same: not coming across as a total
dork and knocking down the house of cards that’s my junior high
social life.”
“It is a cool Lego set, though,” my
brother pointed out.
Josh grinned a little. “I know. But
that has nothing to do with my quest to avoid social
suicide.”
“Well, if we’re going to go to the
store first, we’d better get going,” Trevor told him.
The kid slid off his seat and said,
“Okay. Hi and bye, by the way, Uncle Gi. Are you going to be at
dinner tonight?” The family gathered every Sunday evening at Nana’s
house.
“Yup. Have fun at the party, I’ll see
you later.”
“Fun’s not really an option,” he told
me gravely. “The best I can hope for is not completely humiliating
myself.”
“Well, good luck with that, then,” I
said.
Vincent kissed his son on the forehead
and his husband on the lips before they left, then picked up some
juice glasses from the counter and carried them to the sink. As he
rinsed them out and put them in the dishwasher I told him, “I never
would have imagined this for you, Vinnie, but it suits you
incredibly well.”
“What does?”
“The husband, the house, the kid, this
whole domestic bliss thing you’ve got going on. It’s incredibly
sweet.”
He turned toward me and said, “I got
so damn lucky when I met Trevor. I never dreamed I’d have this,
either.”
“He got lucky, too,” I told
him.
My brother grinned embarrassedly and
changed the subject by saying, “Should we bring some gardening
tools with us?”
“No, Tillane has a well-stocked
toolshed. I don’t know why, since he has zero interest in doing
yard work.”
“Alright.” He grabbed a jacket from
the back of a chair and pulled it on over his black t-shirt, then
adjusted his silver-framed glasses exactly the same way Josh had
adjusted his. “Let’s get going, then. Want me to drive?”
“No, I will. We just need to make a
quick stop at the market.”
*****
It took about an hour to
cross the Golden Gate Bridge and head into Marin County, then
meander down the long private drive to Zan’s house. I had to enter
security codes at not one but two imposing gates, which slid open
when I did that. There was a little security camera at the top of
each gate, linked to a display screen in the den, so Zan was
alerted to our arrival. I’d texted him earlier to ask if Vincent
and I could come by, and he’d replied: Haven’t you got anything better to do? I’d written back ‘no’ and he’d texted: Suit yourself then.
I expected him to hide in
the den, like he had for weeks when I first started the job. But
instead, Zan met my brother and me in the kitchen and stuck his
hand out to Vincent. “Zan Tillane. Good to meet you, mate.” What
the ever-loving hell? Never once had I gotten a ‘good to meet you,
mate,’ or anything even remotely resembling a welcome. I’d assumed
that it was some glitch in Zan’s personality, but now I realized it
was just me he
objected to, not visitors in general. Well, that was fucking
special.
I stared at the two of them for a few
moments while they chatted like long-lost chums. Then I turned and
left by way of
can we stop by the store before the party and get a different gift?
Maybe, like, an iTunes gift card or something? I don’t want Ronnie
Frasier to think I’m lame.”
“Ronnie’s a good friend, he won’t
think that,” Trevor told him.
Josh shot him a look. “This is junior
high, dad. It’s like the Serengeti. One week you’re friends with
the lions, the next week you’re their entree. I don’t want to do
anything totally stupid and piss off the lions.”
“If you really want to, we can stop
off and get a gift card on the way to the bowling alley,” Trevor
told him.
“Does that mean I can keep the Lego
set?” Josh asked.
“That wouldn’t have been your ulterior
motive all along, would it?” Vincent asked with a grin.
“No, Dad,” the kid said flatly. “My
ulterior motive is always the same: not coming across as a total
dork and knocking down the house of cards that’s my junior high
social life.”
“It is a cool Lego set, though,” my
brother pointed out.
Josh grinned a little. “I know. But
that has nothing to do with my quest to avoid social
suicide.”
“Well, if we’re going to go to the
store first, we’d better get going,” Trevor told him.
The kid slid off his seat and said,
“Okay. Hi and bye, by the way, Uncle Gi. Are you going to be at
dinner tonight?” The family gathered every Sunday evening at Nana’s
house.
“Yup. Have fun at the party, I’ll see
you later.”
“Fun’s not really an option,” he told
me gravely. “The best I can hope for is not completely humiliating
myself.”
“Well, good luck with that, then,” I
said.
Vincent kissed his son on the forehead
and his husband on the lips before they left, then picked up some
juice glasses from the counter and carried them to the sink. As he
rinsed them out and put them in the dishwasher I told him, “I never
would have imagined this for you, Vinnie, but it suits you
incredibly well.”
“What does?”
“The husband, the house, the kid, this
whole domestic bliss thing you’ve got going on. It’s incredibly
sweet.”
He turned toward me and said, “I got
so damn lucky when I met Trevor. I never dreamed I’d have this,
either.”
“He got lucky, too,” I told
him.
My brother grinned embarrassedly and
changed the subject by saying, “Should we bring some gardening
tools with us?”
“No, Tillane has a well-stocked
toolshed. I don’t know why, since he has zero interest in doing
yard work.”
“Alright.” He grabbed a jacket from
the back of a chair and pulled it on over his black t-shirt, then
adjusted his silver-framed glasses exactly the same way Josh had
adjusted his. “Let’s get going, then. Want me to drive?”
“No, I will. We just need to make a
quick stop at the market.”
*****
It took about an hour to
cross the Golden Gate Bridge and head into Marin County, then
meander down the long private drive to Zan’s house. I had to enter
security codes at not one but two imposing gates, which slid open
when I did that. There was a little security camera at the top of
each gate, linked to a display screen in the den, so Zan was
alerted to our arrival. I’d texted him earlier to ask if Vincent
and I could come by, and he’d replied: Haven’t you got anything better to do? I’d written back ‘no’ and he’d texted: Suit yourself then.
I expected him to hide in
the den, like he had for weeks when I first started the job. But
instead, Zan met my brother and me in the kitchen and stuck his
hand out to Vincent. “Zan Tillane. Good to meet you, mate.” What
the ever-loving hell? Never once had I gotten a ‘good to meet you,
mate,’ or anything even remotely resembling a welcome. I’d assumed
that it was some glitch in Zan’s personality, but now I realized it
was just me he
objected to, not visitors in general. Well, that was fucking
special.
I stared at the two of them for a few
moments while they chatted like long-lost chums. Then I turned and
left by way of
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