Rising From the Dust

by Adrianna M Scovill

  She sighed. Things were going to be different. They’d already been different since Ben left home for college, but now she was going to have to figure out how to wake up alone in an empty house. She was going to have to figure out how to have a life of her own, and the prospect was terrifying. It was also a little exciting, though. Beneath the fear, and the grief, she could feel the beginning bubbles of anticipation.

  “We need to talk,” she said.

  Ben looked past her, glancing around. “Where’s Dad?” he asked.

  “He ran to the store,” she said. “Come out here, please.”

  As she turned and headed toward the living room, he trailed her, saying, “To the store?”

  She heard the scorn, and the skepticism, and she whirled on him. He stopped, startled. “Yes, to the store,” she said, and she saw Ben wince at the tone of her voice. “What exactly do you think is going on?”

  “I don’t know,” he said, raising his chin. “No one says anything, and he’s sleeping in the—”

  “Our marriage has nothing to do with us as your parents,” she interrupted. “I love you, Benny, but you need to cut your father some slack.”

  Ben sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Look, I’m sorry, I know he’s upset about Grandma, and I’m sorry I didn’t make it to the service—”

  “Your father loves you more than anything in the world, Ben. I don’t think you can ever really understand what’s going on in his head right now, with his mother’s death. You don’t know what his childhood was like. All I can tell you is that he needs us, you and me, more than ever.”

  “Are you getting a divorce?”

  “Yes,” she said after a pause.

  She hated the pain that twisted his face. “If he did something to make you this unhappy, why are you defending him?” he asked.

  “Unhappy?” she repeated. She reached out and put a hand on her son’s arm. “Benjamin,” she said. “Have you ever known your father to be selfish? Has he ever put himself above us or anyone? Have you ever known him to lie to you? You knew there was no Santa Claus when you were five because you asked him directly and he couldn’t bring himself to lie to you. If you want to know how he’s feeling right now, you need to ask him, but you need to be prepared to actually listen. And do not make him feel like he has to work for your love or respect. Do you hear me?”

  “Of course I love him,” he muttered, looking chastised.

  “That’s not what I said,” she answered. “Look, I’m going back to lie down for a bit. We’re going out for dinner tonight, the three of us. But I need you to promise me that you’ll listen when he tries to talk to you. Listen even to what he’s not saying, Benny.”

  “Okay,” Ben answered. He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “Sorry, Mom,” he said. “You got a headache? You want me to get your pills?”

  “Your dad’s at the store,” she answered, and she saw the guilt in his grimace. She patted his cheek, gently. “I love you, honey,” she said. “You don’t need to worry. The three of us will always be what we’ve always been, no matter what happens.”

  ***

  “Hey, Dad.”

  Gabriel’s step faltered for just a moment before he continued into the kitchen. The sight of Ben waiting for him had caught him off guard, and his heart had already sped up. He still didn’t know what he was supposed to say to his son, but he knew the moment had arrived to say something.

  “Hey,” he answered. He put the gallon of milk in the refrigerator and set the bag of groceries on the counter, reaching in to grab Natalie’s pills. He moved to the cupboard for a glass and filled it with water. “What’s up?” he asked.

  “I’m sorry about earlier,” Ben said. “I think maybe I didn’t get enough sleep,” he added, a small attempt at a joke.

  I know the feeling, Gabriel thought. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “It’s been an emotional few days for all of us.”

  “Mom says you’re getting a divorce.”

  Gabriel was halfway across the living room, headed toward his wife’s bedroom, and he stopped. He looked over at Ben. Before he could think of an answer, Ben spoke again.

  “Do you want to talk to me, Dad?” he asked. His voice was quiet. Gone was the accusation, the confrontational attitude, from earlier.

  Gabriel regarded his son in silence, marveling at the young man he’d become. It often felt like only a moment had passed; as though Gabriel had blinked and his son had gone from crib to college. Do you want to talk to me, Dad? Gabriel nodded, slowly. “Give me a minute,” he said.

  “I’ll wait on the porch,” Ben said. “So we don’t bother Mom.”

  Gabriel nodded again. “I’ll be right out,” he said, gesturing with the glass of water before turning toward the bedroom.

  ***

  Ben was sitting in one of the two folding lawn chairs on the porch, looking out at the street. He had an open can of beer resting on his knee. He looked up when Gabriel walked out of the house. “You want one?” he asked his father, gesturing toward the remainder of the six-pack beside his chair.

  “No,” Gabriel said, settling himself into the other seat. “Thank you.”

  “Do you mind if I do?” Ben asked with a small smile.

  Gabriel also smiled, and shook his head. “No,” he answered. “Just remember we’re going out to dinner later.”

  “Yeah,” Ben said, and they watched a few cars drive past. “I see the Bradshaws have fresh duct tape on the pumpkin,” he remarked, nodding across the street toward the inflatable lawn decorations.

  “Oh. Yeah. Tom said a mouse chewed a hole in storage but I really think the damned thing’s just disintegrating. Maybe I should buy him a roll of orange tape.”

  “Think they’ll put up the broken Rudolph again this year?”

  “Wouldn’t be Christmas without it,” Gabriel answered with a smile. He stared out at the street, remembering the Halloweens of Ben’s childhood; every year, they’d posed on the front lawn for a photo of him in his costume. Next weekend, kids would be going door to door for candy, but Ben would be back at college. He might be in costume, but it would be with his friends, and Gabriel wasn’t likely to get a picture unless he asked for one.

  “Do you want to talk about Abuelita, now?” Ben asked after a bit.

  “Not really, no,” Gabriel answered quietly. “Your grandmother loved you, and you loved her. That’s really all you need to know.”

  Ben hesitated. “I don’t know what happened, Dad. I don’t know the details, but I know she didn’t always make you feel good about yourself. Even when I was little, I could see how you changed when she was around. It was like you…closed up.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Ben shook his head. “Not to me,” he said. “Not to me or Mom. You were always open with us, with me. And you were always…protective. Watchful. Around Grandma, I mean. Like you expected her to…I don’t know. Say something or do something. Any time she criticized me, you were so quick to step in. I always knew you had my back.”

  “Forever,” Gabriel answered.

  “But when I was little, I didn’t really understand the, I don’t know, significance of your willingness to put yourself between me and your mom. I just want you to know that I’m sorry for whatever she said or did to make you feel bad about yourself, Dad. You didn’t deserve it.”

  Gabriel blinked the tears from his eyes as he watched his neighbor back out of her driveway.

  “And I’m sorry that I made you feel bad earlier,” Ben continued quietly.

  Gabriel shook his head and looked over at him. “You don’t ever have to—”

  “No, I do,” Ben interrupted. “I shouldn’t have assumed that whatever happened was your fault. I just don’t like seeing Mom upset. But I know you don’t, either. I know you wouldn’t hurt her on purpose.”

  “It is my fault,” Gabriel said through numb lips. He swallowed. “You were right to blame me.”

  Ben studied him for several beats before raising his beer
to his lips. He took a drink, then looked at Gabriel again. “I know it’s been hard on you—on both of you, since I left,” he said.

  Gabriel shook his head. “This is not about you,” he said. “It’s not your fault. Your mother and I, we…” He trailed off, meeting Ben’s eyes. He considered changing his mind about the beer. His palms, resting on his thighs, were sweaty. His heart was thudding, his stomach churning. He drew a breath and let it out. He knew that Ben could see his agitation—Ben’s concern was etched into the lines of his face, settled into the dip of his frown, but he was waiting for Gabriel to finish. “I was with someone else,” he said. “I didn’t…I stopped before…It doesn’t matter. I was with someone else, and the truth is, I don’t regret it. I can’t.”

  Ben took another long swallow from his can, staring out over the yard. “When was it?” he finally asked.

  “Last night.”

  Ben shook his head. “I should’ve gone out with you,” he muttered. Then, before Gabriel could answer: “But you’d already been sleeping in the guest room. She’d already asked for a divorce?”

  “Yes. I didn’t plan it, though. I didn’t expect it to happen.”

  “Is it the first time?” Ben asked.

  “Yes.”

  Ben turned his head to look at him. He searched Gabriel’s face. “There’s something you’re not telling me,” he said quietly. Then he smiled, though it was a sad smile—his mother’s smile. “There’s a lot, but like Mom said, your marriage isn’t really any of my business. But there’s something, isn’t there?”

  Gabriel nodded, but the words—whatever they were—were stuck in his throat.

  Ben sighed. “Papi,” he said softly, shaking his head. “You look so…” He shifted in his chair, reaching out to put a hand on his father’s arm. “Dad, listen. I love Mom and if anyone, including you, hurts her, then I’m going to fight, alright? But I love you, too. And nothing will change that. You could’ve slept with all the Dallas Cheerleaders and you’d still be my father.”

  “What about the Cowboys?” Gabriel asked through lips that barely moved.

  Ben blinked in confusion. “What?” He drew his hand back slowly as he tried to puzzle his way through Gabriel’s question. “I don’t understand,” he finally said.

  Gabriel swallowed the sting of bile; he felt like he might be sick, and a part of him—the part deep down inside, the part that wasn’t verging on a panic attack—wanted to laugh at the idea. He, Gabriel Santiago, who’d never had stage fright or shied away from addressing assemblies full of teenagers, who’d been physically ill enough to vomit only a few times in his entire life, was going to throw up at his son’s feet because he was nervous? The idea was ridiculous.

  It was also a possibility.

  “Bad joke,” he muttered, trying to breathe. “But, I…The person last night was a guy,” he said. He realized distantly that he was clutching so tightly at the arms of his chair that the metal edges were digging into his fingertips.

  “You’re…You…Are you saying you’re gay?” Ben asked. The only recognizable thing in his expression was confusion.

  “I…I don’t…” Gabriel stopped and swallowed again, closing his eyes to pull a deep breath through his nose. With his eyes still closed, he said, “I’m attracted to men, yes.”

  “Since when?” Ben asked, and Gabriel’s eyes opened in time to see his son’s wince. “I didn’t mean it like that,” the younger Santiago said, looking pained even though Gabriel hadn’t had time to respond. “I mean, you and Mom have always been…affectionate. You’ve always…You have a kid.” He paused, and Gabriel could see him considering the possibilities. “You do—I am—”

  “Yes,” Gabriel said. “You would be my son no matter what, but yes.”

  “So you’re…bisexual?” Ben asked. His face was flushed, but he was doing his best to make sense of what his father was telling him.

  “I don’t know what I am,” Gabriel murmured, chewing the inside of his cheek to keep himself from breaking down.

  “You’re attracted to both men and women?”

  “Mostly men,” Gabriel said. The words were barely audible, but they hung in the air between them. Gabriel turned his face toward the street, clenching and unclenching his hands around the armrests. “I never lied to your mother, Ben,” he said, because it was important that his son know that. “She always knew…what I…who I…am…”

  “Dad,” Ben said, and suddenly he was crouched beside Gabriel’s chair; Gabriel wasn’t even sure how he’d gotten there. “Lo siento,” he murmured, and he had hold of Gabriel’s arm with both hands. “No llores, Papi, lo siento por algo que la abuela te haya dicho, lo siento te lastimó.”

  Natalie had once brought it to Gabriel’s attention that he tended to settle into Spanish when he was comforting someone, particularly Ben. Now, it occurred to Gabriel that his son had picked up this habit, probably without even realizing it. Someday, he would likely have children of his own, and when they were hurt or sick or upset, he would sit beside them and murmur words of comfort or consolation in Spanish.

  Looking into Ben’s earnest face, Gabriel knew that he was a good father. He might not be perfect, and he’d certainly made mistakes along the way, but he was a good father—he and Natalie were good parents who had done everything they could to avoid the mistakes of Gabriel’s parents.

  He loved Ben unconditionally. There was nothing that his son could do or say that would make Gabriel love him any less. He’d sometimes struggled over the years to come to terms with Ben growing up, finding his own way in life, moving off to college and everything the future held for him. Gabriel had had many moments when he’d been struck dumb by the realization that his son was now a man.

  And Ben was a good man, kindhearted and open-minded and observant. Gabriel knew that he couldn’t take all the credit for that; he wasn’t sure he could even take a third of the credit. He’d played a part, though, in molding the young man beside him.

  “Dad, you said you wanted me to know you’re proud of me,” Ben said.

  “I am,” Gabriel managed. His voice was thick with unshed tears.

  “But I’m proud of you, Dad,” Ben said, and that was too much. Gabriel felt his face crumpling; he’d cried so much in the last few days. He was not prone to emotional outbursts, usually. “I can’t make up for your parents, but I’m proud of you.”

  Ben was unused to seeing his father cry. He’d seen him misty-eyed, sentimental, emotional, yes, but not like this. The sight of Gabriel’s tears, now, ushered in Ben’s. Gabriel turned his upper body, reaching across himself to curve a hand behind his son’s head. He kissed Ben’s hair, drawing a ragged breath through his nose. Then he simply leaned his forehead against his son’s, closing his eyes.

  “What do I do, Dad?” Ben asked hoarsely. “Tell me how to help, what do you need me to do?”

  Gabriel drew back, cupping his hands to his son’s face. “Benny,” he whispered. “Mijo, mi amor, mi corazón. I don’t deserve you, but I thank God for you every day.”

  “You made me,” Ben answered with a small, teary laugh.

  Gabriel pulled in another deep breath. He was starting to get control of himself. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, Benny,” he said quietly. “And…that’s alright,” he added, and he was finally beginning to believe that it might be true. “I know this is a lot for you to…process. I don’t want you to worry about my feelings, you feel free to say whatever you think or feel. If you have questions or…if you’re upset, you can talk to me. Just like always. Okay?”

  Ben nodded, and Gabriel lowered his hands. “But that works both ways, Dad,” Ben said. “I’m not a kid. You don’t have to hide yourself to…try to shield me, or whatever.”

  “It’s not your job to worry about me,” Gabriel said. “I’m your father—”

  “Bullshit,” Ben interrupted, surprising him. Ben rarely swore around his parents, even though they’d never censored his speech unless he was in public. “We’re family,
we worry about each other. We protect each other. If anyone gives you shit, Dad, you let me know. I’m in your corner and ready to go to bat.”

  Gabriel started laughing, and then he couldn’t stop. He grabbed Ben, pulling him into a hug. And, holding onto his son, Gabriel felt like he could draw the first real, full breath of his adult life.

  ***

  Gabriel felt a flutter in his stomach when he saw the flashing red and blue lights ahead. The cruiser had a car pulled over on the shoulder, and Gabriel’s hands tightened on the steering wheel as he let off the gas. His car slowed as it approached the police car.

  And there he was: Jack Windsor, standing at the window of a black SUV. As Gabriel drove past, even slower than he would normally, he wondered if Jack would look over his shoulder and recognize his car, or catch his gaze through the glare on the windshield.

  Jack didn’t look around, though. He was talking to the young woman in the SUV, and Gabriel felt a mixture of disappointment and relief. He turned his attention back to the road ahead and forced his fingers to loosen their grip on the steering wheel. He realized that Natalie was studying him, and he cleared his throat, frowning through the windshield as he picked up his speed.

  “Everything alright?” she asked.

  She knows, Gabriel thought. She can read you like the front page of a newspaper. “Yeah, I…uh…”

  “Is that him?” Ben asked from the backseat.

  Gabriel barely suppressed a groan. God, am I really that obvious?

  Ben turned to look out the back window. “A cop?” he asked. “How did you…He’s cute.”

  “Jesus Christ, Benjamin,” Gabriel said, flushing in embarrassment.

  “He is cute,” Natalie agreed quietly. “Younger.”

  Gabriel glanced at her. “He’s…not that young,” he muttered.