When Memory Fails

by D. W. Marchwell

  Chapter 16

  “IS HE sleeping?” Scott asked as he noticed Hank come back into the family room.

  “This time, I think,” Hank said as he let himself drop onto the sofa. “This sofa isn’t as comfy as ours.”

  “Don’t even think about it, buster,” Scott said, his tone teasing. “I’ve got an algebra midterm tomorrow, and Mr. and Mrs. Alan would absolutely freak if their babysitter did anything so slutty!”

  Hank laughed and pulled himself a little closer to his prey. “Ah, come on, baby, you would if you loved me.”

  “Nuhn-uh.” Scott snorted, allowing himself to be gathered into the strong arms. “You just want something to tell the other guys in the locker room.”

  “Okay, maybe I’ll go ask one of them if they’re interested.” Hank held up his arms as Scott’s face lost its smile. “Shhh, you’ll wake Matthew.” Hank wrapped his arms around his husband and fell back into the sofa.

  “I still can’t believe he likes you more than he does me.” Scott had been absolutely shocked to discover that a crying and unhappy Matthew could be soothed by everyone but him.

  “I think he’s still pissed that you threatened him with no university money if he didn’t stop crying.”

  Scott had the good sense to look contrite. “I apologized.”

  “I keep telling you that it’s all in the tone,” Hank explained as he snuggled closer to the warm body. “You could tell them the world is coming to an end,” Hank said, his tone soothing and his voice soft, as if he were talking to Matthew. “But if you say it like this, they won’t get frightened or upset.” Hank squeezed and interrupted Scott’s first words. “No, I’m not saying that you frighten your nephew. I’m saying that you need to be a little gentler with him.”

  “This sucks,” Scott said as he quit struggling and let Hank nibble at his ear lobes. “He’s my nephew… and he already hates me.”

  “Nobody could ever hate you, Scott.”

  Scott turned to look at Hank, completely undone by the words and the look on his husband’s handsome face. “Okay, I like you again. You may go to first base.” He wrenched his arms free and pushed them through Hank’s chestnut curls, just the way he liked, the way that made him purr like a kitten.

  “First base, huh?” Hank screwed up his features, thinking hard. “How far could I get if I told you you’re the sexiest, most brilliant man I’ve ever met?”

  “Second.”

  “That you’re the best uncle in the whole world and that I’ve never met anyone with a better ass?”

  “Points will be deducted for lying or misrepresenting facts not in evidence. Now you’re back to first.”

  “Damn it,” Hank groused. “I should have quit while I was ahead.”

  “Although,” Scott said, his hands tickling at Hank’s ear lobes, “to be fair, I’ve yet to thank you properly for my keyboard.”

  “Then what would you call what you did for me that afternoon?”

  “That was for the toaster,” Scott said dryly. He still wasn’t convinced that Hank hadn’t meant it as some sort of joke. Not only did they have a perfectly good toaster that they rarely used, but the look on Hank’s face when he didn’t get the reaction he’d hoped for had forced Scott to think quickly, kissing and hugging and thanking his husband the way he liked best. They had both been dressed in sweatpants and sweatshirts, neither of them patient enough to wait until it was actually morning, so it hadn’t taken long for one thing to lead to another. Although Hank did have the presence of mind to point out that, with each successive year, they were getting up later and only certain presents warranted the removal of clothing now. “By the time I opened the keyboard, I was already worn out.”

  “Ah, now I remember.” Hank leaned into the caresses. “I think one of these years we’ll have to either buy fewer presents or start opening one a day.” Hank laughed, his voice deep and hypnotic. “I think we ended up doing it six or seven times that day. We were in bed, and by bed I mean asleep, by nine.”

  “Best Christmas ever!” Scott pulled gently on Hank’s hair and leaned down for a kiss. “But I think that three hours we spent here in the afternoon might have worn us out a little too.”

  “True,” Hank said. “Kari’s a really strict teacher.”

  “If I’d known she was going to put us through Uncle College, I would have put out just to get you to write my test for me.”

  “It wasn’t that bad,” Hank protested, placating his husband with another kiss. “I’m glad I paid attention. Who knew having a baby involved so much… stuff!” Hank waved his hand around the room, which had somehow become some sort of overflow storage area for all the toys that didn’t fit in Matthew’s room. There were toys from relatives that Scott and Hank didn’t even know, nor Brian, for that matter, friends, neighbors, and fellow moms that Kari had met during her pregnancy.

  “Yeah, well, you were teacher’s pet.”

  “Hey, I earned the blue star.”

  “Right, and I’m sure that buying Kari that huge basket full of everything she could possibly need had no influence on her decision.”

  “The proof is very difficult to refute, I’m afraid.”

  “That he stops crying when you pick him up? Please, he only stops crying because he suddenly finds himself at an altitude where the lack of oxygen knocks him out.”

  Scott smiled as Hank laughed and bit his neck. “You’re terrible. And a terrible loser.”

  “Seriously, Hank,” Scott said, his smile sincere and his hands caressing Hank’s muscular forearms. “Every time I see you with him, I think I fall in love with you all over again.”

  Hank brought their lips together briefly, obviously remembering that they were there for babysitting and nothing else. “Thank you, Scott. He is adorable. Like his uncle.”

  “If you say anything to imply that’s you, I’m going to shave your head when you’re asleep tonight.”

  Hank’s grip tightened around Scott a little more. “No, I meant you.”

  “Good,” Scott said, obliging his husband with one more kiss. “Okay, you have permission to go around all the bases. In any order you’d like and as many times as you’d like.”

  “Wait till I tell the guys in the locker room!” Hank moaned, his hands finding Scott’s perfect ass and squeezing before the crying interrupted them. “Is it my turn or yours?”

  “That would be yours,” Scott said, although he tried to say it as if he wasn’t enjoying it.

  Scott watched the retreating ass and whistled, laughing when Hank flipped him off. There was no way that Scott could argue about who made the better uncle. Scott felt like a fish out of water when it came to Matthew. He had the same plumbing, so he’d figured it would be a piece of cake. And it was, until the first time he’d been changing his nephew and the surprise stream had rocketed up from the diaperless baby boy and drenched the front of Scott’s shirt. Of course, it wouldn’t have been so bad if, upon reentering the family room, Hank hadn’t picked that precise moment to remind him that he should have been paying attention when Kari explained about that particular phenomenon.

  Nor had Scott known about the incredible smells that could emanate from such a little body. How do apple juice and strained beans become that color and smell so awful? Again, Hank had shown no sympathy, taking advantage of the moment to hog Matthew all to himself. Scott would never admit it to Hank, but he loved that there was this instant connection between the two of them. Scott was Matthew’s blood relative. They would always have that connection. But for Hank to have become so attached and so enamored of the little guy so quickly, it made Scott’s heart ache. On more than one occasion, he wished he could honestly say he wanted children. But he didn’t. He never had.

  But Hank obviously did. He said he didn’t, but Scott wasn’t a complete idiot. Hank had not been close to his own nieces and nephews and had no children of his own. And Scott could tell that it was something that had been occupying more and more of Hank’s thoughts. During the hours and ho
urs they had waited in the hospital for Kari to deliver Matthew, Hank had wandered, more than once, over to the windows to smile and make goo-goo faces at the babies.

  Or the time they’d visited at Christmas. Scott and Brian had fallen asleep in the family room, leaving Kari and Hank to care for and amuse the baby. Scott didn’t remember what it was, precisely, that had awoken him, but when he did wake up, he saw Hank sitting at the kitchen table, Matthew in his big arms and the most incredibly serene look on Hank’s face. It was at that moment that Scott realized just how much Hank had potentially given up to be with him. Hank was gay, and Scott knew that, but perhaps with a different partner? If Scott had come along a year or two later, perhaps Hank would have found a man who wanted children as much as he did. It was the only thing about their marriage that made Scott sad.

  Scott watched as Hank came back into the family room, Matthew cradled safely and lovingly in his arms. This was Scott’s compromise. He would babysit whenever and wherever Brian and Kari needed it. And he would do it for his husband. That was why—and Scott was quite certain that Hank knew it—it always seemed to be Hank’s turn to get the baby.

  Scott loved his nephew, and everyone knew it. But he didn’t feel the need to hold and touch, tickle and caress, or kiss and cuddle Matthew like Hank obviously did. And, truth be told, if Scott had ever seen anything as delicious as a strong, handsome man like Hank with a baby in his arms, Scott could honestly not remember.

  “He asked to come out and see Uncle Scrappy,” Hank said with a smile, easing himself gently onto the sofa, his big pinky finger trapped in Matthew’s little hands.

  Scott chuckled and leaned over to peer at his nephew, his fingers caressing the pink skin, delighting in the soft cooing and sucking sounds as Matthew tried to swallow Hank’s finger. “I can just imagine when he’s six or seven and he wants to come for sleepovers.”

  “Oh, man, won’t that be so cool? Or maybe we could go camping with him? Or maybe we could take him on a trip or something?”

  Scott laughed, but his heart was breaking. He stood and went to the kitchen, hiding his eyes from his husband, and opened the fridge door. “Should I heat up a bottle?”

  “No,” Hank said, rising from the sofa. “He’s good. What’s wrong, Scott?”

  “Me?” Scott felt foolish as soon as the word was out of his mouth. Hank had proven, far too many times, that he could read Scott like a book. Scott closed the fridge door and turned toward Hank, still not looking up. “I’m sorry, Hank.”

  “Oh, not this again.” Hank took another step toward his husband. Matthew came into Scott’s view, and Scott reached out instinctively to smooth his hand over the soft blond hairs on the small head. Scott glanced up at Hank, his smile genuine. “I’ve told you before that it’s not a deal breaker for me. You’re not interested in having kids. I didn’t fall in love with you because you wanted kids. I fell in love with you because you make me feel like one.” Scott smiled, and Hank shrugged slowly, careful not to disturb the baby. “I didn’t mean that to sound so… icky.”

  Matthew cooed again and brought Hank’s finger back to his mouth. “I think he’s hungry.” Scott said.

  “Well, heat one up, and we’ll see if he takes it.”

  “Hank?” Scott waited for his husband to turn around. “Thank you… for understanding.”

  “If I had to choose between a lifetime with another man and all the perfect kids he’d let me have and a lifetime with just you? I’ll choose you every time.”

  “Jesus, Hank,” Scott said, his eyes closing against the tears. “You’re killing me, here.” Matthew giggled, bless his little heart, and Scott found himself laughing. “That’s right, little peanut. This is your Uncle Hank, and even when he’s driving me crazy, he makes me the happiest I’ve ever been.” Scott leaned up and kissed his husband and then kissed his nephew, Matthew latching on to some of his uncle’s blond locks.

  “Looks like he prefers blonds,” Hank said, laughing, as he tried to coax Matthew to let go of his uncle’s hair.

  “Man, that kid has a grip. Gonna be a logger, for sure.”

  “No,” Hank said, his tone soothing and soft. He sat down again on the sofa, talking only to Matthew. “You’re going to be Prime Minister, or the doctor who finds the cure for cancer, or the astronaut who colonizes Mars.” Hank stopped when Matthew began to giggle and squirm. “And Uncle Scrappy is going to pay for all of it. Yes, he is, ’cause he’s loaded.”

  Scott laughed and pulled out a pot to warm the milk that Kari had left in the fridge. At least this part I can do without feeling like such a failure, Scott thought, entranced as ever by the sight of Hank and Matthew together. If only I wouldn’t be the one to be at home with the baby all day. The thought flitted through Scott’s mind for the hundredth time. But that’s what you do. You stay home and write songs for a living. You can’t very well expect Hank to give up his career so he can stay home to look after a child, if you’re already there!

  Scott had come at this from every conceivable angle, and he always arrived at the same conclusion: it just wasn’t going to be possible to please both Hank and himself. He knew it made him a selfish prick, but he would rather live with that than adopt a child who would have one and a half parents at best. Hank had obviously thought Scott was joking when he’d told him, during their first camping trip to French Beach, that he should never be put in charge of children. But Scott had not been kidding. He did not want that responsibility, and certainly not by himself. If it came down to babysitting his nephew alone for a couple of hours, he could do that. But accept the responsibility for a child every day for the rest of his or the child’s life? There was no way Scott could ever, in good conscience, do that.

  Scott was a selfish person by nature, but he’d felt what it was like to be ignored or forgotten as a child. He’d never asked for special treatment or used it to gain sympathy. And he was more than ready to give credit where credit was due: the luck of the draw may have given Scott bad parents, but it also gave him Brian. Had it not been for Brian, Scott could just as easily have ended up some doped-out, strung-out alcoholic who thought nothing of lying or cheating or treating people as disposable pleasure. He’d seen enough people like that over the years to recognize what Brian had saved him from.

  It wasn’t completely out of his love for, or sense of duty to repay, his brother that Scott loved little Matthew. Scott was still human, still capable of recognizing how precious and adorable this new life was, not only to Brian and Kari, but to the universe. This little boy could be the man who discovered the cure for cancer, could be the first astronaut to Mars. There was nothing this little angel couldn’t do. And that was where Scott felt his need rested: it would be Scott’s job to ensure that Matthew got anything he wanted, as long as his parents wanted it for him as well. Scott and Brian had already discussed the issue of money, and Scott had been surprised that he hadn’t had to twist his brother’s arm as usual.

  “I realized that, if I’d gotten my way,” Brian had explained to his brother shortly after Matthew’s birth, “Matthew might have been born to an unemployed father who would have nearly bankrupted his whole family.” Scott considered it a victory. Anything that Brian or his family ever needed, Scott would be there to provide it. It was one of the unexpected perks of becoming successful in his chosen profession. Scott had realized his opportunity to repay his brother in spades should the need ever arise.

  To have discovered—two years ago, during Brian’s stay in the hospital—that Kari loved his brother and that Brian loved her too, was all the impetus Scott needed to start pushing the two of them together. After the circus that was Jennifer, Scott wanted nothing more than to see his brother in love with a woman who was as kind and gentle and loving as Kari, who had lied and said she was his wife so she could be near him, be with him. If Scott hadn’t been so tired and anxious from his flight and the news that his brother was in the hospital, he would have cried right along with Kari. Instead, he’d done the next best thing:
try to figure out a way to push the two of them together.

  And it had worked. Scott couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen his brother so happy. He has a wife who adores him, a new son who will see Brian as his hero, just as I do, Scott thought as he watched the little tyke’s eyelids droop and shut, and he’s made a new friend in Hank, who also thinks the world of Brian.

  Scott wasn’t necessarily one to toot his own horn, but when he thought about it, there was only one thing that could make this new family even better: if Hank could reconnect with his father, his sisters, and his nieces and nephews.

  As he watched his husband rock the newborn, Scott knew he could come up with something. He just had to figure out that one thing that would bring all the pieces together. And he knew he could figure it out. He doesn’t call me Scrappy for nothing, Scott thought to himself as he sat beside his husband, kissing first his nephew and then the man whom Scott would see reunited with his family, one way or another.

  Chapter 17

  HANK sat in his truck, completely blindsided and wondering how he had ended up arriving safely at home. He pulled the keys out of the ignition, pulled the latch of the truck door, pressed his shoulder against the padding to open the door, and stepped out. His legs were still a little unsteady as he climbed the four stairs to the door that would lead him in through the laundry room. He held his keys out and dropped them, just like he always did, not even noticing that they fell on the floor this time.

  “Scott?” Hank tried to remember if he’d ever felt like this, if he’d ever felt as if he was hovering somewhere outside of his own body, paralyzed by the emotions rushing through him. “Scott?” Hank yelled for his husband, a little more loudly this time.

  “Bedroom.”

  Hank heard the familiar voice, faint and distant, not sure whether it was because he couldn’t get his brain to comprehend what had just happened or because the bedroom was just that far away. He walked up the stairs, his lungs feeling as if they’d never be able to get enough oxygen in them again, rounded the banister, and headed for the bedroom, finding Scott making the bed with a clean set of sheets. Hank moved slowly to where Scott stood, at the foot of the bed, and without even noticing at first that Scott hadn’t actually finished making the bed, sat down in front of his husband.