by Solet, Trina
And Manny Makes Three
By Trina Solet
Copyright © 2013 by Trina Solet
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced or used in any manner without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a review.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, locales or actual events is entirely coincidental.
Kahmma@More friends, Unlimited fun!
Cover image sources: www.sxc.hu
This novel contains material intended for mature readers.
And Manny Makes Three
(Gay Romance)
By Trina Solet
Chapter 1
Zack and his son, Al, were living together happily in their comfortable house. If they were missing something, they didn't know it. Maybe they couldn't miss something that was still unknown to them. Instead of yearning for some unknown element that would make their lives complete, Zack and Al were following their bedtime routine.
There were many delays and digressions before Al actually got into bed. He had to speak to PJ, the cat, about several important matters. He also had to show PJ his latest drawing. Pawing and sniffing at it is how PJ showed her appreciation. Al finally got under the covers making sure to leave room for his father. But it was never enough room. When Zack sat down, Al shifted again as his father crowded the small bed. Zack settled himself on top of the cover with the book, and Al squirmed as the cover got pulled too tight.
"You're too big," Al told his father. Zack was 6'1" and in good shape, and he stayed that way mostly by trying to keep up with a five year old.
"You're too small," Zack told his son.
"No, I'm not. I'm a kid." Al tried to pull the cover free from under Zack. Zack stared at him and waited for Al to realize that that was impossible.
"You're heavy," Al complained now huffing with futile effort.
"You're just weak. I told you to eat your broccoli. But you didn't listen." Zack waited another second or two for his message to sink in then moved a little to free up the cover.
"Dad, read already," Al said when Zack didn't start reading immediately.
Al settled himself into the pillow so that he could see the pages of the book. Zack turned the book a little more his way so Al could read along and look at the illustrations of course.
The first time Zack picked up and opened James And The Giant Peach, he was a little stunned. Al had seen it on a bookstore shelf and asked for it. The first page of the book had an illustration of the four year old James as a dark eyed, serious boy with a big head. He was holding in his arms a cat. This was almost a drawing, but more a caricature, of Al at the exact age when they got PJ, their cat. Zack laughed, not believing his eyes. To Zack, it seemed like a miracle. Especially since Al had specifically requested this book because of his fascination with giant food. It was as if this book was written just for Al. It then waited on the shelves for Al to be born, to walk into a bookstore, to recognize and demand it because it was rightfully his.
"It sounds kind of scary," Zack had warned him after reading just the first paragraph.
Zack knew what Al's answer would be. Al was a tough little guy. He wasn't daunted.
"I won't be scared," he promised. "I want it," he had pleaded and demanded at the same time as only a child can.
Zack couldn't really pass up the book with such a fitting illustration. And he couldn't wait until Al saw it for the first time.
The first time Al had seen that illustration of James with a cat, he had gone bug-eyed.
"He has a cat, he has a cat! Just like me," Al had yelled pointing a finger at the book then leaned close to peer at this other boy with a cat. It was a lot like when PJ looked at herself in the mirror, not quite sure what she saw. But soon enough Al was impatient to hear the story. Of course he kept waiting for the cat to make an appearance in the story which it never did. But there was plenty of fun in the book for Al. The aunt named Sponge always got a giggle out of him. When James started crawling inside the peach, Al would lean forward like he wanted to jump into the book.
By now the book had been read many times, and Al knew what to look forward to. The appearance of the peach in the story was greeted with a round of applause from Al. As Zack slouched down so Al could lean against his shoulder while they read, their heads were close together over the book. Zack's hair was dark blond while Al's was dark brown as were his eyes. Zack's eyes were blue, and he often took them off the page to watch Al's reactions. While Zack traced the words with his finger, Al followed along sometimes mouthing the words he recognized or remembered.
Zack watched to see how sleepy Al was getting. He saw Al yawn, but he refused to shut his eyes yet. He would soon. When Zack started to notice Al's eyes begin to half close as he fought to stay awake, he would slow down his reading and soften his voice to lull him to sleep. Zack knew that Al was fully asleep when he stopped reading and there was no objection. Then the trick was for Zack to get up very slowly and carefully then lower Al gently to his pillow. Zack always lingered for a moment. His excuse was that he was making sure Al would stay asleep. Really, he just liked watching his peaceful, sleeping face.
In the mornings, Al was always dragging his feet before kindergarten. As usual, he was playing with the cat, threatening to make Zack late for work. Before Al came along, Zack would often go in to work early and stay late. Sometimes he would go in at 5:00AM if he couldn't sleep. That way he had the whole office to himself. At one time, he had been proud of his workaholic tendencies. But taking care of Al had made him strictly a nine to five guy. His life was about Al not about work. Now he was worried that the new Borden project would endanger his time with Al. It was a big account and very important to their fledgling company. If they got it, there would be a lot of extra work and just in time for Al to be out of kindergarten for the summer. Zack planned to take as much of the work home as he could manage. That way he could be there for Al in the evenings. But there was still the problem of what to do with Al during the day over the summer break.
Little Rainbow World was where Al spent his afternoons after kindergarten let out until it was time for Zack to pick him up when he finished work. The place, which he and Al just called Little Rainbow, had a long waiting list of gay and lesbian parents who wanted to make sure their little ones spent time in a positive, accepting environment. It was important to Zack too that Al played with other kids who had two dads or two moms though some like Al had single parents. Zack had only managed to get Al in for the afternoon program for the summer months. The half day summer program was booked well ahead by smarter and quicker parents than him.
There were still a few weeks of kindergarten left giving Zack a little time to figure things out. For now he just had to get Al to sit down and eat breakfast.
"Al, if you don't want cereal, just say so. I'll give you broccoli for breakfast every morning," Zack said just loud enough for Al to hear. Sometimes that worked better than all the shouting.
"You can't do that!" Al said as he ran into the kitchen to make sure there was no broccoli in his cereal bowl. "There's no vegetables for breakfast. It's not allowed," he told Zack even as he saw his bowl was full of cereal and milk and nothing green.
Al pulled out the chair noisily and sat down to eat still looking at his father to make sure he got the message about appropriate breakfast foods. But Zack wanted to make sure his own message got through.
"Who says there's no vegetables for breakfast? I told you before. I'm a grown up. I can do wh
atever I want." Zack was eating toast and drinking coffee in his usual way - while standing up and checking a few things on his laptop.
"No, you can't," Al contradicted him.
"If you want to grow up and do whatever you want, eat your broccoli." It was an often repeated claim in their household.
"No. I'm having cereal." Al was slurping cereal with a big spoon as he preferred for some reason.
"Fine. But don't blame me if you stay little."
Al frowned into his cereal bowl. Getting big while not eating broccoli was a conundrum of his young life. He had been told repeatedly that it was impossible, and it worried him. He didn't want to stay little and not get to do all the good stuff. But he wasn't going to eat broccoli no matter what.
As Al finished up his cereal, Zack got a phone call. George called telling him that plans would need to be redrawn. Zack listened to the stuff George told him with only one ear. It was all too detailed and technical to mean much to him. They would be getting all of that in writing anyway, and George and Yuka would be dealing with most of the issues. He would just get to play with the numbers.
George had pulled Zack into Advanced Planning and Design years ago when it was still a two person operation on the verge of shutting its doors. George Kirby and Yuka Mishima had secretly called their company Intelligent Design and were one lost bet away from making the name official before Zack came along. Unlike the two of them, he was not an architect. He was just "the guy who got shit done". That title, coined by George, almost made it onto Zack's business cards. Thank God the printer called him to double check that he really wanted his cards to say that. Curtailing George's sense of humor was sometimes the main part of Zack's job. At the beginning, he had been in charge of marketing, client relations, which meant keeping clients from strangling George, also keeping Yuka from strangling George, and making sure they made a profit. Now that the company had grown, he mainly focused on the financial stuff, leaving the rest to their capable staff.
"Did you put fresh water in PJ's bowl?" Zack asked after he was finished with his phone call. He had made that Al's job since Al was the one whose crying got them stuck with that cat.
"Yes," Al confirmed while putting on his shoes. He could tie them himself, but it was a painstaking process.
"Good. And food?"
"Yes," Al said again. He had to start all over on his left shoelace. It would have been easier and quicker for Zack to do it for him, but Zack knew it was his job to suffer while watching Al do things the hard way so he could learn.
"Not too much food, right?"
"Just half, like you showed me," Al said with a show of exaggerated patience, which he may have learned from Zack.
"Good, we don't want PJ getting fat. Let's go."
As Zack headed toward the front door, he found Al blocking his way.
"We can't go yet," Al said. He stood with his arms out so Zack couldn't pass.
"What? Why?"
"The litter box." Al huffed a little. He had it so rough.
"No. Why?" Zack complained as he took the laptop bag off his shoulder.
"You told me to remind you."
"Good job reminding me," Zack said sarcastically.
Zack went off to what he called the cat's bathroom. It was the powder room where PJ had her litter box.
"Damn cat," Zack grumbled as he got down to scoop out the clumped litter and other lovely treasures PJ had buried.
"What did you say?" Al asked poking his head around the door frame.
"Nothing."
"Did you say a bad word? You have to put a sorry in the Sorry Jar," Al told him sternly.
"You didn't even hear me. You don't know what I said," Zack told him as he got up and tied off the stinky bag.
"You said a bad word." Al was absolutely sure of this even though he couldn't have heard him very clearly.
Zack decided to admit his guilt and take his punishment.
"Fine. Write me a sorry. A little one," he told Al.
"You have to write it yourself. It's the rule." The rule was really meant for Al so he would take responsibility for what he did wrong and also practice his writing. But as usual Zack got caught in his own traps.
"We should have got a fish," Zack said as he threw away the bag and washed his hands.
"Can we have a fish?" Al said excitedly. He was bouncing up and down at the idea.
"No." Zack said to him, trying to undo the damage.
"You just said..."
"No, I didn't."
"We can have a fish. You said!" Al still persisted.
"No, we can't. PJ would eat it," Zack said finally finding a use for that cat.
"No, she wouldn't." Al denied it, but he also frowned worriedly. It would take just a little more convincing for this idea to take root.
"Yes, she would. She would eat it," Zack insisted. "Cats eat fish. You saw the picture of a fish on her treats, didn't you?"
"OK." Al relented sadly.
Zack was a little surprised and pleased that his reason actually put an end to the wheedling. He wondered how many potential pets he could veto by citing PJ's carnivorous tendencies. Certainly all birds and amphibians would be on the list of potential casualties and off the list of potential pets. That left the problem of the dog Al was always asking for. PJ couldn't eat a dog, but maybe a dog could eat PJ. Zack stored away that argument for future use and hoped all this talk of pets eating each other wouldn't give Al nightmares. But he wasn't too worried. Al had always been a good sleeper and a sturdy, resilient kid.
Chapter 2
Even though he was an adult, Zack envied Al his steady, obstinate resolve. He credited his mother for that. Zack's own mother had died when he was young. He and his father lived quietly in the same house with his mother's memories for a few years. Then everything changed. They closed up the house and moved out. They were starting a new life. Zack now had a stepmother, Anne, and a little stepsister, Kelly. It wasn't too bad most of the time. And he and his father were a little happier and a little less lonely in their new life than they used to be.
They had ten good years of it before Zack's father died, and it all fell apart. Zack's stepmother unraveled. She used to have a drinking problem that Zack didn't even know about. After his father's death, Anne went back to drinking, more all the time. She deteriorated slowly until one day she drove herself into the back of a truck. Kelly was a teenager at the time. Zack was in college. Kelly would now have to go and live with her father, a man she had no contact with for ten years. She ran away rather than go back to live with him. Zack got a few phone calls from her, months apart. He offered to help her repeatedly. He begged her to tell him where she was, but she always refused.
Her last phone call to Zack was different. She asked him to come see her. Zack had been doing well after college. Having landed himself the kind of job he wanted, he could now afford a nice apartment and a new car. He dated happily without getting into any serious relationships. Except for the lack of a boyfriend, his life was exactly where he wanted it to be. He could help Kelly now more than ever. But instead of giving him hope, something about Kelly's phone call had chilled him. He took time off to go and see her. Her request had sounded serious, while Kelly herself had sounded strange over the phone.
Kelly had been renting a room in the back of an old lady's run down house. Zack encountered the old lady first. She told him that Kelly no longer had any money for rent, but the old lady, Mrs. Stillman, let her stay on and even helped her with the baby. Kelly had a child. That should have been the big news. Zack would have given anything if that had been her only news. But Zack barely glanced at the baby in the crib as Mrs. Stillman showed him into Kelly's room then left. For a while Zack just stood there. Looking at Kelly had knocked the wind out of him. She was painfully thin and so pale she looked gray under a faded, blue blanket. But he had still recognized her right away just as if his sixteen year old stepsister was sitting in that ripped recliner.
Kelly was the first to speak.
Zack couldn't say anything in reply. If he opened his mouth it would be to sob. Then a loud wail startled him out of his sadness. The baby was crying. And he was really loud.
"Listen to him. The lungs on that kid." Kelly pointed a thumb toward the crib. "Go pick him up," she told Zack.
Zack moved cautiously toward the crib. He couldn't imagine what kind of thing could be making that awful sound. He first saw the head of dark hair then the scrunched up red face of a baby. Zack picked him up, bringing the toothless, howling mouth even closer to his ear.
"Not so loud. Huh. Come on. Turn the volume down," he told the kid who did slow his crying then stopped.
"Is he stinky?" Kelly asked.
"Thank God, no," Zack told her.
"Too bad. I was going to make you change him." She smiled up at Zack. It was her familiar, evil smile.
"Is he your kid?" Zack asked. He felt a lump in his throat. He already knew the answer. It was just hard to believe. The child turned toward him. Now that he wasn't crying, he was chewing on his own hand instead, and his eyes were open. He had Kelly's big, dark eyes.
"What do you think? I'm babysitting?" Kelly said, scolding him for pretending not to know the answer. She could see him looking at her kid and recognizing him for who he was. Even if no one had said anything, Zack would have known him as Kelly's son as soon as the kid opened his eyes.
"Hey. I'm your uncle," Zack introduced himself. The kid ignored him due to his cannibalism. He was still trying to eat his own hand but only managed to cover it in drool.
"Step-uncle," Kelly corrected him. She had to just to uphold the tradition. She had always done the same thing whenever he introduced her to anyone as his sister. But when Zack's father introduced her to people as his daughter, she didn't say anything. She only looked shyly at her shoes.