The Moore the Merrier

by Alex Miska

  “It’s the gays,” was Grandfather’s answer, as though an entire Pride parade had knocked on their door like Jehovah's witnesses. “They want us to sign something.”

  When they reached the kitchen, Grandmother pushed the pastry box into Chance’s hands. “We don’t want your homosexual cookies. And why are you making us sign these papers? We’re not giving you any money.”

  “I don’t want anything from you. In fact, that’s the point of the document. It gives me the right to raise the boys and frees you from all obligations.” Logan’s hand on his back was the only thing keeping Chance sane. “Now please call my sister, so I know you’re taking care of her properly.”

  “What gives you the right to come into my house and insinuate that I’m not taking care of my own granddaughter?” Grandmother asked.

  That was the moment that Chance’s calm, supportive boyfriend completely lost his shit.

  “He isn’t insinuating anything. He’s outright saying it. Someone found two of your grandchildren hiding behind a dumpster! They’d been living on the streets and in homeless shelters for the past three months! They didn’t even have coats, and their shoes were held together by duct tape! What kind of monsters let that happen to two young boys?! How can we trust you not to do the same thing or worse to their sister the moment she steps out of line?” Two hundred fifty pounds of muscle and fury loomed over the older woman, but she stood her ground. Logan stepped back and with icy calm asked, “Did it never occur to you to lock them in their room without food or water until Chester and his family picked them up? It would have been kinder and, if we’d known they needed us, we’d have been here within hours.”

  “The police said they were handling it. It was none of our concern,” she said haughtily.

  “Then their sister is none of your concern, either. You can’t pick your favorite and discard the rest; that isn’t how love and family work.” Logan looked around and gestured to the giant cross on the wall. “Tell me, have you been able to go to church lately, or are you afraid of bursting into flames the minute you walk through that door?”

  Chance stepped forward carefully and put his hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder. “Stand down, soldier. We have the boys. They’re safe now. Mrs. Blevins, could you please call Gertrude out so we can assure ourselves she’s okay and she can know her brothers aren’t lying dead in a ditch somewhere? Even though you’ve written them off, they’re her brothers, and I’m sure she’s been worried.”

  “I’ll get her,” their former grandfather said, then handed a pen to his wife. “Sit down and sign the papers, so they can be on their way.”

  Chance noticed that, after reading the first set of papers and realizing the second was a copy, he just signed everywhere there was a little flag. Everywhere. Including the nearly-identical documents at the bottom of the pile that freed Gigi, just in case she ever changed her mind.

  “Is your son still living in the same place? Do you have a way we can contact him?” Chance asked yet again. He didn’t want to see his father, but it was necessary. “We need him to sign the same papers and pick up the boys’ things.”

  “He moved a couple of months ago after he got out of jail, and he got rid of everything he didn’t need. There’s nothing to pick up. But here’s his phone number. If he has time, maybe he’ll sign your papers.” Chance had never heard someone say ‘papers’ as though it were a lewd sex act, and he was very grateful that the boys didn’t have to put up with their former grandparents’ crap. He was also impressed that the system had actually worked and their father had served time for abusing his sons.

  Just then, Gigi appeared, a blur of blonde hair as she ran to her little brothers and enveloped them in a hug, despite her grandmother’s chastising. When she pulled back, she was crying and could barely say, “I missed you so much.”

  “Please come home with us,” Jackson asked before adding the line he’d rehearsed in the car: “I know you don’t approve of our brother’s lifestyle. But there are two married, heterosexual couples in Logan’s family that would love to have you live with them.”

  “It isn’t worth the legal battle,” she said with a sigh. “My life is here until I graduate high school.”

  “In case anything happens, I live on 73 Cherry Tree Lane in Tarrytown, New York. The family bakery is called Moore Delicious. If you call there, especially if it’s an emergency, someone will always be able to reach me. Oh, and we brought you cookies and a piece of cake, since you missed the boys’ birthday.”

  “You are not eating those cookies,” her grandmother said.

  “Oh for chrissake, they won’t turn you gay! They make you like boys. Unless you don’t want her attracted to boys?” Jackson said, and Chance wasn’t sure if his outburst would make things better or worse. (After all, their former grandfather had just eaten at least two cookies in front of them.) But Gigi peeked inside the pastry box and pulled out a cookie, and nobody objected.

  “Here. Take this and leave.” Chance’s former grandmother shoved the papers into his hand. On top was a sticky note with his father’s phone number.

  “Thank you, ma’am,” Chance said. “Give me a minute to call him; your son might prefer to meet us here.”

  With a shaking hand, he dialed the number. On the sixth ring, a gruff, slightly whiny voice said, “What do you want?”

  Chance struggled to keep his voice steady as he said the line he’d prepared: “This is Chester Blevins. Your sons have come to live with me. I need you to sign some papers to make it official.”

  “I’m not fucking paying child support for those faggots. Especially not to you.”

  Chance had been prepared for his reaction. He tried to pretend he was just in a play and recited his next line: “I would never expect you to. The papers absolve you of any responsibility toward the twins and would make it possible for me to adopt them. Is that acceptable?”

  The man gave him the address of the same sandwich shop they’d patronized with Gigi. The boys hugged Gigi one last time, and Chance told her how wonderful it was to meet her, and reiterated that she shouldn’t hesitate to contact him if she ever needed anything. As soon as they got outside, Jackson said, “Did anyone else notice that they completely ignored the fact that we were in the room, and they didn’t ask who Logan was?”

  Chance had only noticed the chilly reception, but it was true. They never removed their jackets, and his former grandparents had only acknowledged their existence as much as was absolutely necessary. Logan pulled them all into a group hug and said, “You’re all loved. Never forget that.”

  The ride back to the restaurant was silent. They hadn’t been surprised by their grandparents, but they’d all hoped their supposed family would defy expectations.

  This time, Chance insisted the boys stay in the car, but Logan followed him inside. The man he’d once called Dad was so much older and smaller and more pathetic than he’d remembered.

  “You’ve gotten taller. Still a fairy?” he asked.

  “Yup. You’ve gotten wider. Still a douchebag?” Chance responded, channeling Logan’s brother’s snark.

  The man narrowed his eyes and gestured at Logan, “Needed a bodyguard to face your old man?”

  “I’m his boyfriend,” Logan growled, his hands balled into fists. The man snorted in disbelief, as though a muscle-bound jock couldn’t possibly be gay.

  Chance lightly rested his hand on his boyfriend’s arm and said, “Sweets, there are too many witnesses here for you to punch him.”

  Chance dried the table with a napkin and handed a sheaf of papers and a pen to the old man, who read the first page and, satisfied, signed everything with gusto. Chance took the papers back and walked out of the restaurant without saying another word.

  For years, Chance had thought about what he’d say to his father if he saw him again. Now that it finally happened, he realized that the man wasn’t worth the words. When they reached the car, Logan followed Chance to the passenger
side and pulled him into a hug.

  “You were wonderful,” he said into Chance’s hair. “Now get in, we have one last stop to make.”

  “Did they text you? Are they ready for us?” Chance asked, so psyched to give the boys this surprise. Logan grinned and nodded.

  “Well?” Dean asked as soon as Chance opened the car door.

  “He signed the papers. All three of you are free of him,” he told them. Then Logan went into a dramatic retelling of how Chance had bravely confronted their father while Chance punched the address of their next destination into the GPS. “Now, we have two options. We can drive straight home after this next stop, or we can get a hotel room and leave in the morning.”

  “Can we just go home? I don’t want to be here any longer than I have to,” Jackson said. “What’s our next stop?”

  “You’ll see!” Logan sang cheerfully.

  When they pulled up in front of the townhouse, both boys gasped. Chance grabbed a small bag he’d been hiding by his feet and led them all inside. A grinning couple answered the door and ushered them inside, where they were greeted by four excited greyhounds. One especially looked like she was going to die of happiness.

  “Roger!” both boys shouted and hugged the dog to within an inch of her life.

  On Sunday, Gigi had informed Chance that they had adopted the fawn greyhound shortly before ‘the incident’ occurred. Gigi had been in contact with the rescue and they had agreed to hold on to Roger for a couple of months, steering prospective adopters to other animals. And yes, Roger was a girl dog, but they’d fallen in love with her. Their beloved father wanted a more masculine dog, so they pointed out that the greyhound was a retired professional athlete and pretended that Roger was male. The fact that the dog didn’t have a dick had never even fazed the man (telling him that Roger was neutered had been explanation enough), although he did mock the poor dog for peeing ‘like a sissy.’

  Logan and Chance had worked their butts off to prove they had a fenced yard, plenty of room in the house, and gathered references from their vet and family and friends who all could attest to their ability to give a dog a happy, safe, loving home. Technically, Logan had been the one to re-adopt Roger, because he also had extended family with yards and dogs and resources; if something horrible happened again, Roger still would have a home. Before they left, Chance and Logan had even Roger-proofed the house, after being warned she tended to eat things she shouldn’t.

  When Chance pulled out a collar, leash, doggie jacket, and car harness the boys squealed with delight. “We get to take her home?!”

  “Of course we’re taking her home! She’s your dog!” Had they really thought Chance brought them here to say a last, tearful goodbye? They might not have been able to convince Gigi to come home with them, but he’d be damned if the boys would have to leave their dog behind too!

  They talked with the fostering couple for a bit, learning more about the breed and about this specific dog and answering more questions about their home and family and generally making small talk. But it was getting late, and they had a four-hour drive ahead of them. Chance’s brothers were so happy, they were practically jumping out of their skin as they buckled Roger’s car harness into the seat between them.

  Chance got behind the wheel and turned towards home, literally driving his family off into the sunset.

  Character Guide

  ‘My boys! My boys! Oh my god, oh my god! My boys!’ Roger shoved her housemates out of the way. When her boys finally kneeled down, she showered their faces with kisses. ‘Where have you been? Where have you been? Where. Have. You. Been? Do you know I’ve been worried sick, thinking you were lying dead in a ditch somewhere? The last time I saw you, you were hurt, remember? And what is that smell? Is that… another dog? And cats? You better have a good explanation, misters!’

  Roger barely noticed the two men who came in with the boys, but they pet her now and she sniffed them. They seemed like good people; they pet her just right. One smelled enough like the boys that he must be family, but he was happy and sad and excited and not angry at all. The boys smelled like they were healthy and happy too. Roger approved of this man and hoped the other man was gone, because he was a total catbag. But who could think about them when her boys were here?! Ooo. This was new. She always liked new clothes. The coat was very warm, if a little stiff, and this collar wasn’t studded; the one extra man who smelled the most like cats said it was bright orange and reflective for safety. She liked safety.

  “We’ll get you a pretty, special-occasion collar, don’t worry,” Dean soothed.

  ‘That’s okay. Safety doesn’t have to be pretty,’ she reassured him. ‘Now let’s get out of this apartment! I have way too many roommates. Four dogs. Four! And let me tell you, there were only two people and none of us were allowed to sleep on the bed! They’d just close the door at night and let anarchy reign!’

  They bustled Roger into the car after letting her do her business outside, and the men praised her like a pup. It was strange but clearly well-intentioned. The boys smelled like they’d been with their sister, but Roger couldn’t see her anywhere. They were in the car forever, and with all the excitement (or perhaps it was that sock she’d snacked on… it hadn’t tasted right) her tummy hurt and she made a mess on the floor, but nobody got angry, they just apologized. She told the boys all about her time apart from them, and someone said something about Gigi, so she explained how their sister cried and cried when the greyhound people took her back and… Roger pressed her nose to the window. ‘Where is your sister? Are you taking me to her? Stop the car! We forgot somebody! Stop the car!’

  Then everyone was sad. Everyone was crying. The boys pressed their faces into her fur and Roger leaned her face forward to lick the ears of the men. The one man that didn’t smell like the boys but smelled like he’d been around them a lot was angry until it was his ear-licking turn (Roger would have to file that trick away for later). Jackson explained to her that Gigi was okay, but she wouldn’t be coming to live with them. It was a newspaper on the nose, but at least Roger had her boys.

  Every time they stopped, Roger was careful to spin around and around her boys so they wouldn’t get separated. “I thought she was trained and knew all sorts of commands and was good on a leash,” her boys’ adult, whom they called Chance, said.

  ‘Of course I’m well-taught, but you can’t exactly blame me when these boys don’t know a simple command like Stay,’ Roger retorted, but she heeled anyway. During one stop, they gave her a delicious, greasy cheeseburger but got upset when she ate the wrapper too. It was a pleasure to hear her boys worrying about her fiber intake again.

  When they got to her new home, Roger was ecstatic. This home had a tiny personal park they called a lawn. Roger peed in a few spots, just because she could. A woman opened the door, and a tiny ball of enthusiasm flew out. ‘You’re here, you’re here! You’ve been gone forever and ever and ever and I’m so happy! Hello Chance! Hello, hello! Logan! Logan! Hellllooooo Logan! Boy-pups! Boy-pups! SOMEBODY SAY HELLO!’

  Roger stepped forward, introducing herself politely, and the little dog showered her muzzle with kisses and said she was Roger’s new best friend. Luckily, Logan introduced them more formally; the excited dog was Luna, and the woman standing next to her was their friend Amelia.

  Luna scampered down the hall to introduce the greyhound to her friends Mikey and Leo. The two creatures perched high on the wall and glared down at Roger. ‘I am Michelangelo, and he is Leonardo. Who are you and why are you in our house?’

  ‘Luna, dear,’ Roger told her sweet, dim new friend. ‘These are cats. Are you aware there are cats in your house? Do you want me to chase them out for you?’

  Luna laughed gaily and ignored her. ‘Mikey, Leo, be nice! Roger’s going to live with us.’

  ‘No,’ Leo said. ‘Absolutely not. There are already three of us here. And we get visitors. We do not have room for another dog.’

  ‘Do my boys live h
ere?’ Roger asked, unwilling to put up with shit from cats.

  ‘Your boys? Dean belongs to me, and Michelangelo has Jackson. We suppose you may play with them from time to time, but-’

  ‘They’re my boys. They’ve been mine for years. I will allow Dean to pet you, but only if you vermin behave.’

  ‘VERMIN?’ Mikey bristled.

  “Boys, Luna,” Dean said, stepping between them. “This is our dog, Roger. She is wonderful and looks out for us, and you’ll all have to learn to get along.”

  Dean lifted Mikey off his perch and Logan grabbed Leo and presented the cats to Roger like offerings. She sniffed each protesting cat. Was she supposed to eat them? She licked one and then, because it seemed to piss him off, she licked the other. Nope, she wasn’t going to eat them, but Roger appreciated the gesture. When the cats were placed back down on the ground, they all sniffed each other until they were satisfied.

  ‘Here’s the deal, Rog,’ Leonardo eventually said, breaking the tense silence. ‘We can only sleep on one bed at a time, so you can have the other one, and we’ll alternate.’

  ‘Only if the boys are okay with you sleeping on their beds,’ Roger grudgingly agreed. ‘And what about Luna?’

  ‘Luna is ours. She sleeps with us.’ As if a cat could own a dog!

  ‘But I get cold,’ Roger whined, before she could stop herself from admitting her weakness. She hadn’t slept without other pets for warmth in months.

  ‘Not my problem,’ Mikey said coolly. ‘That’s what blankets are for.’

  Roger had never really taken the time to get to know a cat, but she was becoming increasingly certain they were at least as assholish as she’d always suspected.

  ‘It’s okay. Cass and Frankie don’t like them either,’ Luna confided. ‘But those cats are good to me, and Logan loves them and talks to them all the time, so they can’t be all bad. We’re going to have so much fun together! It’s going to be awesome!’