Dreamspinner Press Year Six Greatest Hits

by JD Ruskin

  “Nice ride,” Brandt said, looking at the minivan. “But why would someone spend so much lowering a family hauler and custom painting it? It’s still a minivan.”

  “It’s been modded for a wheelchair,” Donnelly replied as they walked up to the front porch. He probably didn’t mean it to sound snarky, but it did kind of come off that way to Brandt.

  “Oh,” was all Brandt could think of to say. Inside, he hated himself for being so wrapped up in his own fucked-up situation that he was unable to even register basic human empathy. Though Donnelly had never mentioned anyone in his family who was in a wheelchair.

  Donnelly opened the front door and stepped in.

  “Hey, Sis! What’s cookin’?” he called, holding the screen door open for Brandt to follow him. “It better be good—I brought company!”

  “Oh! Did you bring someone special?”

  “Yeah, he’s pretty special. It’s my dork partner!”

  Donnelly’s sister emerged from the kitchen wiping her hands on a towel and, smiling broadly, strode over to the men.

  “So this is Officer Brandt! I’ve heard so much about you. Welcome, welcome!” She extended her hand and smiled broadly.

  “Thank you. I’m ashamed to say that I’ve heard very little about you.” He slugged Donnelly in the arm by way of pointing out exactly where communication had broken down. “Thanks for the invite for dinner.”

  “You’re always welcome here. Please, call me Chris.”

  “I’m very pleased to meet you, Chris.”

  She looked expectantly at Brandt, hoping perhaps to learn his first name, but Brandt was focusing hard on his duties as a guest in this house.

  “You have a lovely home,” he said as he looked around the room, hoping it sounded genuine. Why was this all suddenly so difficult? He found himself trying to imagine how he would act if he hadn’t just made his porn debut. Why should that matter now? But it did.

  Chris glanced around what was, even in the most generous light, a not-very-elegant tract house in a neighborhood that had long ago ceased to be respectably middle class.

  “Oh, this old place? It’s not much, but it works for little ol’ me. Now, come to the backyard and meet the other folks!”

  She led the way through the kitchen to the back door and down four steps to the backyard. A ramp snaked down the side of the house next to the stairs.

  On a modest little patio surrounded by a small swath of grass was the rest of Donnelly’s family. A boy of perhaps four years played in a makeshift sandbox; near him, in a wheelchair, sat a solidly built man of about thirty with a baby on his lap. He was talking animatedly to her while the baby stared back at him and drooled happily.

  Donnelly led the way over to the pair in the wheelchair.

  “Hey there, Delilah! How are you, little princess?”

  The man in the wheelchair turned the baby around so she faced Donnelly. Instantly a toothless grin overtook her little face. She bounced her legs energetically and completely without coordination. Donnelly reached out, picked Delilah up, and held her close. A spot of drool quickly spread across his shoulder.

  “Hey, I’d like you to meet Will. Will, this is my partner.”

  Brandt smiled at Will and extended a hand. Will reached up and took it, shaking it firmly. Corded muscles stood out along his arm.

  “Pleased to meet you, partner,” Will’s deep voice rumbled.

  “Ethan.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Ethan. This one”—he nodded to Donnelly’s prized bundle of love and drool—“is my daughter Delilah, and that one”—nodding to the sandbox—“is Dylan.”

  “You have a beautiful family,” Brandt offered, immediately feeling stupid for resorting to the same compliment he had given Chris about the living room. He tried to figure a way to fix it. “They have their mother’s eyes.” There, that should work.

  Will smiled as if Brandt had just told a well-meant but not terribly funny joke. “They do, you’re right.”

  Brandt squatted down next to Dylan, who immediately handed him a dump truck. Brandt had no idea what to do with it, so, with a roll of his eyes, Dylan demonstrated how to load sand into his own truck with a small yellow shovel. He then handed the shovel to Brandt and waited for him to do the same, which he did.

  Brandt looked up to Chris, who was coming down the steps with a tray of drinks. He hadn’t noticed before how pretty she was, though he saw enough of Donnelly in her to make him stop that line of thought before it had a chance to begin.

  “OK, Chris, I’ve got it working again, but please, next time it jams up just call me instead of trying to fix it yourself. I’ll be happy to stop by anytime.”

  This was a new voice, a male one. These Donnellys seemed to go on forever. Brandt stood up.

  Will made the introductions.

  “Ethan, this is Lucas. Lucas, this is Gabriel’s partner, Ethan.”

  Lucas extended a hand.

  “Gabriel’s partner, eh? Must be a challenge keeping him out of trouble.”

  Brandt shook Lucas’s hand.

  “Yep, but someone’s got to do it.”

  Brandt was hoping for some explanation as to how Lucas fit into the family, but then Lucas walked over to Donnelly and held out his arms.

  “Delilah! De-LIE-lah! Come give Daddy a hug, sweetie!” Donnelly handed the still gleeful baby over.

  Wait, what? Great. Now I’m hearing things.

  A FEW hours later, the group relaxed under the glow of little white lights strung from tree to tree around a big table Lucas had dragged to the center of the patio. The remains of dinner lay about, and now the group sat laughing and talking. Delilah was asleep in Chris’s arms, and Dylan was back in the sandbox managing his fleet of dump trucks.

  “So then, while I’m back in the cruiser trying to get the first-aid kit out of the glove box, the monkey grabs Gabriel’s flashlight.” The table erupts into even louder laughter. “And then he jumps off the top of the car, grabs him by the holster, and bites him on the ass!”

  Chris, already weak with laughter, looked as though she might pass out. Lucas was howling, and Will had tears running down his cheeks.

  “Hey, it hurt,” Donnelly offered pitifully. “It could have gotten infected.”

  This only made them all laugh harder. Even Dylan was laughing, in the sandbox, without knowing why.

  “How long you guys been together?” Will asked when the laughter had died down a bit.

  “Nearly two years. The entire time I’ve been on the force.” He looked across the table at Donnelly. “He was my first,” he added, giggling. He’d had three beers, which was two more than he normally had with dinner.

  “Well, I think this little one needs a diaper change, and I’m going to get the dishes done,” Chris announced, handing Delilah to Lucas and rising to her feet.

  Brandt wasn’t sure why this seemed odd to him. Why wouldn’t mom change her baby’s diaper?

  “I’ll help with the dishes,” Donnelly said, rising.

  Brandt stood as well.

  “No, no, you sit and have another beer,” Chris insisted. “No domestic labor for guests. At least the first time.” She winked at Brandt and headed up the steps, with Donnelly and Lucas, who held Delilah, following.

  Brandt, alone at the table with Will, sipped his fourth beer.

  “So, Will, what do you do?”

  “Right now I’m preparing to compete in the Paralympic Games.”

  “Wow. That’s awesome. What’s your event?”

  “Biathlon.”

  “That’s the one where you ski and shoot, right? How’d you get started on that?”

  “Well, I always liked skiing, and during my Army training I found I was a pretty good shot.”

  “Oh, so you were in the military?” Brandt asked, and then, emboldened by the beer, continued, “Is that how you, um…?”

  “Yep. That’s how I ended up in the chair. Afghanistan.”

  “Wow.” Brandt wasn’t sure what to say. Then he w
as. “Thanks.”

  “For what? People don’t normally thank someone for getting a spinal cord injury.”

  “No, I mean for going in the first place.”

  “Well, it was kind of my duty. But,” Will added, raising his whiskey sour to Brandt, “you’re welcome.”

  “Donnelly’s brother was over there too, right? Did you serve in the same place?”

  Will blinked a couple of times.

  “We were in the same unit. Matter of fact, the same explosion that landed me in this thing killed him. He was good people, and it sucks that he’s not here raising a beer with us.”

  Brandt only found out about Donnelly’s brother a few days ago, but now he felt as though he had lost a friend. He decided to shift to a happier topic.

  “So, how long have you and Chris been together?”

  Will smiled. “Chris and I aren’t together.”

  Brandt squinted at Will.

  “Oh, I… what?”

  Will chuckled.

  “I’m with Lucas.”

  Brandt was halfway through a nod when he realized the absurdity of what he’d just been told.

  “Whoa, for a second there I thought you meant that you and Lucas were like, lovers or something.” Brandt laughed at his misunderstanding.

  Will smiled. “I did. Lucas and I have been together for almost five years, and Chris is the surrogate mom of Dylan and Delilah.”

  Brandt carefully replayed that statement in his head, trying to find the sense of it in the beer-addled mess he was using for a brain.

  “So you and Lucas are…. Oh, I see.” Brandt tried to figure out how to save this delicate social situation. “That’s, um, great.”

  “I’m glad we have your blessing, Ethan. It means a lot to me.” Will grinned at Brandt, clearly meaning no malice. “And how about you? Anyone special in your life?”

  Brandt could only shake his head. He didn’t want to say anything that might make him look like even more of a dolt.

  “Gabriel says you’re pretty much married to the job right now. You know, he talks very highly of you. A lot.”

  Brandt blushed. Why, he had no idea.

  “He says you’re on some super hush-hush investigation right now that we’re not supposed to ask you about. But after a couple of these”—he held his glass up—“I’ll ask anybody anything.” He grinned and took another drink.

  Brandt, suddenly emboldened by Will’s statement, decided he could do that as well.

  “You don’t seem gay.”

  Well, that was a little more blunt than he had intended, but there it was.

  “Well, that’s probably because I wasn’t before Lucas.”

  “What?”

  “True story. I was married at the time, but she couldn’t handle my new, post-explosion condition, so she left. And then there was Lucas, who was my physical therapist at the VA. He showed me he could pretty much handle anything, so I let him. And we’ve been together since.”

  “But… but… people just don’t wake up one morning and decide to be gay.”

  Will laughed. “I used to think that too. But Lucas is a pretty amazing guy.”

  “So, he…. Oh, never mind. I shouldn’t be asking you this stuff.”

  “No, no, it’s fine. I’m happy to talk about it. I’ve kind of made a career out of talking to veterans’ groups about trauma recovery, and my relationship with Lucas is a big part of that. Ask away.”

  “So, basically, Lucas seduced you? Made you gay?”

  Will smiled and shook his head. “No, I wouldn’t say that. More like he showed me that love doesn’t give a fuck about labels and identities. He loved me when I was broken and alone, and I realized that being straight was a bigger disability than being paralyzed.”

  Brandt was silent.

  “I guess I was just lucky that when I needed someone the most, he was there,” Will concluded.

  Brandt felt tears welling in his eyes, though he had no idea why. Donnelly came out of the house and sat back down at the table.

  “So, what did I miss?” he called out, grabbing another beer.

  “Oh, just some war stories,” chuckled Will, his jocular manner belied by the look of concern on his face.

  Brandt, for his part, stared at the shiny vinyl tablecloth decorated with hula girls and willed the world to stop so he could collect his thoughts. Donnelly seemed to sense right away that Brandt was in trouble.

  “Well, we’d better get on our way. Come on, pardner, let’s get moving. The taxpayers expect a full day of work tomorrow.”

  Brandt shook his head sharply, knocking loose whatever thought structures had been forming while Will talked.

  “Yeah, we should hit the road.” Brandt drained his beer and stood, swaying a bit. “Nice to meet you, Will.” He extended a hand, which Will shook, once again surprising Brandt with the strength of his grip.

  “You too,” smiled Will. His kind eyes seemed to be trying to convey something more, but Brandt didn’t feel up to reading things in people’s eyes right now.

  They made their way through Chris’s house, saying goodbye to Lucas and the kids as they went, and were soon back in Donnelly’s car heading for Brandt’s apartment.

  “So, buddy,” Brandt began as they merged onto the freeway. “Is anyone in your family straight?”

  “Well, there’s me, for one,” he replied, in a tone of mock indignation. “And Chris. She’s not only straight, she has a string of deadbeat ex-boyfriends to prove it. Which, now that I say it out loud, is perhaps a sign that she should consider the lesbian thing.”

  “But Will and Lucas were a surprise,” remarked Brandt, trying to sound casual as he probed for information.

  “Okay, but they’re not technically family. I mean, yes, the kids are related to Chris biologically, and Will knew my brother in Afghanistan, but they aren’t officially family… really….” Donnelly trailed off, then tried again. “I guess we do have my brother in common—we’re kind of his legacy.”

  “I mean, it’s fine and all,” Brandt continued, striving still for a casual tone that did not betray the turmoil inside him, “I just… I just don’t really get something Will said.”

  “What was that?”

  “Well, he said that he wasn’t gay before he met Lucas.”

  Donnelly waited for a moment for Brandt to continue.

  “Yeah?” He finally prompted.

  “Doesn’t that seem strange to you?”

  Donnelly turned to look at his partner. “Are you asking as an investigator, or just as a person?”

  Brandt scoffed and shook his head. “I’m just saying that I’ve never heard of that happening before.”

  “And do a lot of gay men come up to you and describe the exact moment they knew they were gay? Does that come up a lot in everyday life?”

  “Whoa, there, buddy, I’m just sayin’.”

  “Well, what you’re just sayin’ is about someone I consider part of my family.”

  “Look, I don’t mean that it didn’t happen that way. I just never knew that it could. I didn’t think ‘gay’ was a switch that just got thrown one day.”

  “So what if it is? Why does that seem so strange?”

  “But aren’t people born that way? Isn’t that what we’re always told in those sensitivity training sessions they keep making us sit through? That sexual orientation is like eye color?”

  Donnelly thought for a moment, then nodded. “They have hammered that into our heads over and over again. But I guess it’s not like that for everyone.”

  “Yeah, I guess not,” agreed Brandt, and returned to looking out the window.

  He couldn’t say to Donnelly what was really bugging him. That if it had happened to Will—burly, regular-army Will—it could happen to anyone.

  BRANDT SAT for a time in the quiet darkness of his empty apartment. Moments like this were why he lived alone, when he could organize his thoughts in the dim stillness of the evening. But this evening it seemed perhaps too still, too quie
t. The chaotic goodwill of Chris’s house, of Donnelly’s strangely extended family, danced at the edges of his consciousness, reminding him how nice it felt to be around other people. Here, where he controlled everything and accommodated no one else’s quirks, this had always been his sanctuary. Now it just seemed empty.

  He reached reflexively for his phone, which, as soon as he held it in his hands, struck him as a pathetic attempt to reach out for connection, or some such psychobabble shit as that. But he immediately saw a string of texts filling his in-box—he had muted his phone when he collapsed after the gym. He flicked the ringer back on, and scrolled through the texts.

  All of them were from Nick.

  The first few, from midmorning, were additional updates about the performance of his debut video. By early afternoon, the number of views had risen into the low five digits, and Nick was peppering his increasingly breathless messages with an embarrassing number of exclamation points. Finally, the last few texts, sent about an hour ago, indicated that his video had set a new twenty-four-hour record, and that Brandt needed to come to the house tomorrow to “plan the next moves.”

  Brandt was absorbing this last bit when the phone rang, startling him into almost dropping it on the floor.

  It was Nick.

  “Hey, Nick,” Brandt answered, bracing for more bad good news.

  “Dude! You are huuuuuuuge!” rang out Nick’s voice, shattering the former calm of the evening.

  Brandt took a breath.

  “I mean,” Nick continued, “I knew you were huge, but this video is huuuuuuuge!”

  Brandt sat silent, his eyes pressed closed.

  “Jason, you there?” Nick’s voice was finally calming a bit.

  “Yeah, yeah… I’m here.”

  “So, here’s the deal,” Nick sailed on, now that Brandt had confirmed he was listening, “You got named ‘New Meat of the Week’ on FYFB.com! The traffic to your vid just doubled… in the last hour!”

  “New Meat of the Week?” was all Brandt could utter in response to this bizarre news bulletin.

  “Yeah! It’s like getting the Pope’s blessing. Everyone looks for the New Meat on Sundays, and this week you’re it!”