When Memory Fails

by D. W. Marchwell

  Luckily for Kathy, that first marriage had ended before Kathy’s twentieth birthday. However, before she was twenty-one and, Scott assumed, before she’d been successful in absorbing any of the lessons from the fiasco of her first, Kathy married a second time. From all accounts, her second husband, Kirk, had been a prince of a guy. He’d put Kathy before his own family, had doted on her and their three children, and had practically bankrupted himself by providing anything and everything for Kathy and the children.

  The divorce had been a surprise to most people, and not because the couple had seemed so much in love, but more because most people had assumed that if Kirk had made it seventeen years into the marriage without killing himself or Kathy, there would be nothing but smooth sailing ahead. The particular storm that had ruined the dream of Kathy’s second marriage had come in the form of Kirk’s mother. Kathy’s mother-in-law had insisted on coming to live with her son after Kirk’s father passed away and was not prepared to accept Kathy’s alternative of living in a retirement village.

  To hear Rose tell the story of her middle child, Scott thought that Rose found the entire history quite amusing. Despite her husband fighting for his life in the room not far from where they sat in the hallway, Rose regaled Scott with story after story about her middle child and what Kathy referred to as her “tragic luck.” There was nothing mean-spirited in how Rose spoke of Kathy or, for that matter, her other two children. Scott deduced she was just a mature woman who had begun to see that there was more to her life than doing everything she could to ensure her adult children’s happiness. Rose was, Scott finally realized, a woman who had come to see that her life was no longer defined by her roles as mother and wife, but by whatever roles interested her most.

  Hank was on his way down to the cafeteria, to fetch coffee for the three of them. He had meant to go hours ago, but then the perfect storm that was Kathy had breezed in and decided to upend as many lives and hospital rules as possible. Hank had been on his way to get the coffee when he noticed her arrive, sweeping down the hallway, her untied raincoat flapping behind her as her stilettos clicked and clacked like two deranged Morse code messages. Scott had glanced up at Hank’s heavy sigh and could see the family resemblance right away. Kathy was tall and slim, although Scott could tell that she still fancied herself to be thinner than she actually was. As far as Scott was concerned, belting a suit jacket wasn’t a good idea, even if you were a size zero.

  Kathy had come to a stop in front of her mother, not even bothering to say hello, not to her mother, not to Hank, and certainly not to Scott. The deluge of questions for Rose began before Rose had even had a chance to offer her middle child a hug. Scott found that particular incident very reminiscent of John, and he couldn’t help but wonder how quickly the temperature of the room would plunge toward zero should Kathy and John both find themselves in the same room. But Scott wasn’t called Scrappy for nothing. If for no other reason than to save Rose from this vile woman, Scott stood after a few moments and extended his hand, smiling so broadly he thought he might bruise something.

  “Hello, we haven’t met yet.” Scott was not surprised to find that Kathy was tall enough, with the heels, to be able to stare down at him. “I’m Scott Alan. I’m—”

  “I know who you are.”

  Scott kept his hand extended and moved closer. “Of that I have no doubt. And you are Kathy. Rose and John’s daughter, Hank and Sandra’s sister. I’m so sorry that we had to meet under these circumstances.”

  “Really?” Scott watched as the bile worked its way up her gullet and settled in her overly powdered face. Perhaps she’d once been beautiful, but a lifetime of worshipping the sun had taken its toll. “We wouldn’t be here at all if it weren’t for you and my brother.”

  “Kathleen, that is enough.” Rose moved to stand between Scott and his new friend. “If you’ve come here to cause problems, you can just turn around and go back out the way you came.”

  Kathy didn’t much like this, Scott could tell, but he didn’t really care.

  “Scott is part of the family now, and he’s been an absolute blessing to me. And so has Henry. I won’t have you coming in here and causing a scene.”

  “What room?”

  “Your father is in surgery right now.”

  “Fine, I’ll come back later.” Kathy pulled out her cell phone, ignoring the nurse who asked her to put it away.

  Scott put a hand up to cover his mouth when he saw Rose snatch the cell phone from her daughter’s hand. “Kathleen,” Rose began, and Scott assumed that Rose never referred to any of her children by anything but their full given name, “the doctor has instructed that your father needs rest, and plenty of it, so if you’re not coming to be a part of that, don’t come back at all.”

  Scott glanced at Hank, who’d said absolutely nothing during this entire fiasco. He couldn’t help but wonder if Hank would be pissed at him for jumping up to provoke the lioness. While Kathy had an internal monologue with herself as her mother continued to lay down the law, Scott took Hank’s hand and led him outside, into the cool air. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself. She is so—”

  “She’s a bitch,” Hank said as he sat down beside his husband. “She’s only a year younger than I am, and we never really had much to do with each other, growing up.”

  She’s my age, Scott thought to himself, and he took Hank’s hand between his, squeezing gently, reassuringly. He smiled for his husband when Hank squeezed back. She looks so much older. I never would have guessed that Hank is the elder. “Your mom is something, man!” Scott felt himself growing giddy as he relived how Rose had totally taken charge and shut Kathy down.

  “We can start calling her Scrappy Senior,” Hank joked as he brought Scott’s hand up to his mouth and kissed it twice. “You’re her new best friend. Absolutely no way she was going to let Kathy be rude to you.”

  “Is there anything we can do for her? Your mother, I mean, not Kathy.”

  “She wouldn’t tell us even if there was.” Hank sighed, the heavy kind of sigh that told Scott that there would be plenty more fights and disagreements as the family dynamics shifted, each of the children thinking they knew what was best for their mother in this time of crisis.

  “What do you need?”

  Hank leaned forward and kissed his husband, gently. As he pulled away and opened his eyes, he looked at Scott and said, “That’ll do.”

  SCOTT awoke later that evening, Hank’s side of the bed cold and empty, and reached over to turn on the bedside lamp on Hank’s side, snatching his husband’s watch as he drew back to his side of the big bed. He waited for a moment, his eyes adjusting quickly to the light, and saw that it was almost two in the morning. He wondered how long Hank had been up and why Hank hadn’t woken him up.

  He pulled on a sweater to ward off the chill and padded out of the room and down the stairs, trying to be as quiet as possible. When he heard his husband and his mother-in-law deep in conversation at the kitchen table, he stopped and debated whether he should go back to bed or if he should be honest and admit that he’d already heard them. The worst that could happen was that he would be informed he was not invited to this particular conversation.

  Before he could actually make a decision, he heard Hank’s voice. It sounded as if Hank had been crying. And there was nothing on this earth that stung Scott deeper than seeing his husband so despondent.

  “It’s a terrible thing,” Hank was saying. “To know that your father doesn’t want you, that you’re so forgettable.” Hank’s voice cracked on the last word, and Scott started backing up to the stairs slowly. If Hank had wanted him to know this, he would have told him. Scott would be the one sitting in the kitchen with him. How could Hank think that anyone could possibly forget him?

  As if reading his mind, Rose offered some nonsense words of comfort and then asked, “How could you possibly think your father ever forgot about you, sweetie?”

  “He doesn’t want me.” Scott heard the sheer anguish in Hank�
��s voice, his feet moving him closer to the kitchen. He remembered that day, so many months ago, when he’d thought he’d lost Hank, only to learn that Hank had chosen him over his father. He doesn’t want me. Scott knew that as long as he lived, he would never forget those words or the look of irreparable loss on his husband’s face. And now he was hearing it again.

  “He doesn’t know what he wants, sweetie.” Scott could hear the pain in Rose’s voice, the pain of a mother realizing that she couldn’t make it all better with a Band-Aid and a kiss. “I’ve lived with your father for almost forty years, and I’m quite certain I don’t understand him any better than I did when I fell in love with him.” Scott listened as Hank’s cries gave way to sniffles. “What I do know is that there is a lovely, handsome, unselfish man upstairs who thinks you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him.”

  “I know.” Hank’s voice hitched slightly.

  “Well, then, if he were in my bed, I know that I’d be up there, and not down here with my silly old mother.” Scott assumed that Hank had opened his mouth to protest, because Rose continued, “No arguing with your silly old mother. Now you get up there, back to your man, and you let him take care of you.”

  “I love you, Mom.” Hank’s voice was pained but relieved. Scott knew the sound of Hank’s heart healing and thanked all the higher powers for Rose. At least they’d provided Hank with a strong mother, if not a strong father.

  Scott heard the scrape of chairs across linoleum, and he shuffled forward, squinting his eyes as if he’d just awoken. “I woke up and you were gone,” Scott said as he walked into Hank’s open arms. “Everything okay?”

  “It will be,” Rose said as she patted his cheek and kissed her son’s. “It will be,” she repeated as she left them alone in the kitchen.

  “You’re a really bad actor,” Hank said once Rose had disappeared up the stairs.

  “Huh?” Scott wasn’t quite ready to admit defeat.

  Hank pulled his husband close and kissed the top of his head, his lips lingering for a moment. “The third step from the bottom,” Hank explained. “If you’d been raised in this house, you’d know to avoid the center of that step. It squeaks.”

  “Are you angry?”

  “That you came looking for me? That you wanted to make sure I’m alright?” Hank sighed and lowered himself into the kitchen chair that Rose had been sitting in and pulled Scott onto his lap, drawing him close. “Yes, I’m absolutely furious.” Hank’s hands found their way under the heavy sweater, and Scott shivered. “Bet you never counted on marrying a man who’s such a mess, huh?”

  “Someone once told me that if he had to choose between just me and another man who let him have all the children he wanted, he’d choose me every time.”

  “Should I be jealous of this someone?”

  Scott stifled a giggle and continued, “If I had to choose between you and another man who made me do nothing but laugh?” Scott kissed the tip of Hank’s nose, watching it crinkle, as he poked the thick shoulder with one finger. “I’d take you every time… and him on the weekends.”

  As Hank laughed, Scott wiped away some remaining tears from Hank’s beautiful face, wondering again what he could possibly do to make everything all better. He wrapped his arms around Hank’s neck and squeezed gently, the idea coming to him quickly. He pulled back slightly and regarded his husband’s smiling face. “Do you think Rose would come with us to the cabin?” Scott saw the flaw in his plan almost immediately. “No, forget it, sorry. Of course she’s not going to want to leave your father now… especially not now. Sorry, I guess my brain’s still sleeping.”

  “Or,” Hank said, his hands sliding easily up and down the sensitive skin of Scott’s back, “we could send the two of them out there, once my dad is out of the hospital and well enough to travel.”

  “There are lots of little towns around with winter activities,” Scott added. “Or… we could wait until he’s made a full recovery and then send them out there in the summer. Cool breezes, no noise, it would be just what your parents need.”

  Scott looked down into those beautiful green eyes, at the expression in them. Shaking his head, he asked, “What?”

  “You’re amazing,” Hank said, stealing a kiss. “Will you marry me?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m already married.” Scott stole a kiss himself. “But he’s gone during the week. Would you be happy with being just my gigolo?”

  “I don’t know. What’s the pay like?”

  “Negotiable,” Scott said, so relieved to see Hank flirting and playing again. “But we do offer a full benefits package.”

  “Tell me,” Hank continued, “is sexual harassment a problem?”

  “Not for me,” Scott deadpanned.

  “And my office?”

  “Very well padded and comes with closet space and several drawers.”

  Hank squeezed him, and Scott could tell he was trying to get the last word. “And your position on office romances?”

  “I’ve been known to adopt several.”

  Hank squeezed a little harder this time. “What about performance appraisals?”

  Scott bit his lip and let his hand find its way to Hank’s lap. Like a pig rooting for a truffle, he found his prize and squeezed gently.

  “Okay, you win,” Hank conceded as he closed his legs and pulled Scott’s hand away. “And in my mother’s kitchen. Have you no shame?”

  “Not when it comes to you.” Scott combed his fingers through the silky dark hair and leaned forward to offer a chaste kiss. Instead, his lips were met by his husband’s tongue, suddenly eager and hungry. He sighed as he felt Hank’s hands cup his ass and pull him closer. Scott pulled away slightly and reminded, “Not in your mom’s kitchen.”

  “I don’t care,” Hank groaned as he began to peel the sweater off Scott’s shoulders. “We’ll need this to put under your amazing ass while—”

  “Hank!” Scott pulled himself off his husband’s lap, confused and a little embarrassed. “No.”

  Scott didn’t know what to think until Hank stood up, threw his arms up in the air, and declared himself the victor, ignoring—all the way back to the bedroom—Scott’s whispered protests that he’d already surrendered. Even when they were safely in each other’s arms and under the warm and fluffy duvet, Hank insisted that just because Scott believed him didn’t mean he’d actually surrendered.

  Scott made it clear that he intended to protest that particular ruling, but Hank’s eyes had already closed, his breathing slowing and his body relaxing into his husband’s arms.

  Scott studied Hank’s peaceful face and kissed the smooth skin of his husband’s forehead. “You are, Hank. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Scott whispered near his husband’s ear, and then he closed his own eyes, lulled to sleep by the slow, rhythmic breathing of this gentle giant who had no idea how special he was. But it’s okay, we have the rest of our lives for me to prove it to you.

  Chapter 19

  SCOTT was wide awake again. They’d been home from the hospital for only a few hours. It had not been easy, getting the phone call that announced that John had not made it. There had been complications during surgery. Hank’s father was dead. Scott had wrestled with his own guilty conscience, arguing back and forth with himself. Would it have been better never to have instigated this reconnection? Or would it have been worse for Hank to have learned of his father’s passing while they were still estranged? Of course, maybe Kathy was right. Maybe Scott had hastened the inevitable and caused John’s heart attack.

  Scott looked down at Hank’s sleeping form and realized how pointless his thoughts were. Hank was in pain and needed comforting. And Scott would do just that, no matter how brave Hank tried to be. Scott’s eyes teared up as he remembered Hank’s reaction to the announcement. He’d gone completely limp, his face paler than Scott had ever seen it. Hank was that frightened man he’d met two years ago outside of Brian’s hospital room. And as it had done that day, Scott’s heart bro
ke for the man he loved more than anything else in the world. He’d sat beside Hank and held him as Hank just shook his head.

  “I guess Kathy was right. I killed my own father.”

  The words had shocked both Scott and Rose, both of them saying in unison, “That’s ridiculous. Don’t even think that.”

  “I’d been after him for years to eat better and to exercise more,” Rose added after a few moments.

  “I told him that if he didn’t want to accept me and Scott that he could go to hell.” Hank’s eyes had filled with tears as he looked at his mother, his expression seeming to ask for forgiveness.

  “Henry,” Rose said as she sat on his other side, “your father knew you loved him. And you know that he loved you. But you were both so….” Rose might have realized that her words weren’t making Hank feel any better, and she stopped.

  But it had done no good. Hank was inconsolable, convinced that he’d somehow been responsible for it all. Later in the evening, when they were alone, Hank had allowed himself to tell Scott that he’d always felt guilty over abandoning his family, and that now he would have to live the rest of his life having spoken those final words to his father. It didn’t seem to make any difference that Scott reassured him that Hank was not responsible for any of it.

  As for Scott, he felt his own guilt. This could all be traced back to one particular moment, a moment when Scott had not been in their lives. They’d all seemed content, or at least pretended to be so, with the way their relationships had evolved. And then Scott had gone and opened up old wounds, so convinced that Hank’s family could and would want to have him back in their lives. So far, the only person who’d seemed to care that Hank had returned was Rose. Despite that small victory, Scott was still unable to convince himself that this wasn’t all his fault. Hank had never blamed him or even mentioned that he’d wished Scott had never stuck his nose where it didn’t belong. But then that was Hank. He would never blame Scott for any of this.