by Tara Lain
Robin squeezed Paolo’s hand and gave a small shake of his head, but the back seat had gotten very quiet.
“Robin, who does Paolo mean?”
Shit! “Uh, Uncle Harold had a drinking problem. Don’t know how he is now.”
“I never heard Mom and Dad say anything about that.”
“Oh, you didn’t?” He pointed forward. “We turn right up here.”
Bobby’s voice shook a little. “Did he have this problem when you used to go visit him?”
“Uh, sometimes, yes.”
Deadly quiet—and no amount of music could penetrate it.
Bobby’s voice was soft but filled the car. “This is it, isn’t it? The thing you never told me?”
He turned and tried to meet his brother’s eyes—the huge blue saucers brimming with tears. “There was no reason to tell you, dear.”
“No reason?” His voice rose. “No reason? I would have told Mom and Dad. I would never have let you go back there again. It’s just bullshit! You protecting me and hurting yourself. You do it all the time, over and over, but it’s not fair. It makes you sadder and makes me—just stupid!” Tears ran down his face, and Micah pulled him into a tight hug.
Paolo pulled the car over in a weeded patch beside the road and turned off the ignition.
Okay, this is happening.
Robin turned on his seat until he was facing backward with one leg drawn up before him. “I’m sorry.” He breathed out slowly. “No, that’s not entirely true, but kind of. I was a little kid, Bobby. We both were. I was so excited that first weekend Mom sent me to Harold’s. I felt special because everyone loved him so much.” He stared at his hand resting on the seat back. Easier if he didn’t have to look right at Bobby. “I got there and it was great and fun for a while, but then he started to drink. We were playing Go Fish and he just kept slugging back what he called his medicine. It was still fun, but then he fell down, and I was too small to get him up. He started to vomit right where he was. I wasn’t sure what to do, but cleaning it up seemed right, so I did. It went like that all weekend. We’d have fun, then he’d get sloshed and more and more stupid. But when he took me home, he was all happy and talking about what fun we had and what a great kid I was.” Robin wiped a hand over his face. “Remember, that’s when we started getting bullied because we were different and kids called us fags. Having a grown-up say I was great and fun was—amazing. But I wasn’t stupid. When he asked for you, I said no, I needed to go. I figured I knew what to do, and I just couldn’t send you in there.”
“Sometimes that made me so mad. I thought you were cheating me out of Uncle Harold and instead—” Another gush of tears flowed down and dripped from Bobby’s chin. Micah rocked him a little.
“I know.”
“You—you had to feel so scared.” Bobby wiped at his cheeks.
“A little. He got a bit worse every time I went. Once he set a dishtowel on fire when he left the stove on, but that was the closest he came to killing me. Himself? Another matter. I never got in the car with him when he was drunk, although probably sometimes he was legally soused even though he seemed okay. But damn, he was an advocate. Mom and Dad were nicer to us when Harold got done with them. If I told them Harold was a raging drunk, it might have taken all that away.”
“Or they wouldn’t have believed you.” Bobby sighed.
“Yeah. They never wanted to believe anything bad about him.”
“He gave them money and stuff.”
“I figured that.”
“But I think they really loved him and admired him.”
“Yeah. And I was just a weird kid with a big imagination.” He sighed. “But for sure, if I’d ratted him out, or tried to, it would have meant we weren’t his fair-haired boys anymore, and that would have been bad. Shit, we didn’t have many people on our side.”
“Yeah. I wish you’d told me, Robin. We could have gone together, and I would have helped you.”
Robin smiled softly. “You don’t understand.” How to say this? “You being who you are makes my life—better. It always has. Taking care of you was just a way of taking care of me. You give me hope.”
Bobby leaned forward and Robin met him, forehead to forehead. Bobby snuffled. “That’s why you never want to go home.”
“Yeah. I know it’s not Mom and Dad’s fault exactly—”
“But it is on some level.”
“I guess, yes.”
Bobby leaned back and stared Robin fiercely in the eyes. “I’m going to spend the rest of my life making sure you’re happy.”
Paolo wrapped an arm around Robin. “Get in line.”
Robin sucked in a breath. Wow.
Bobby smiled around the red nose and swollen eyes and stared at Paolo. “I love you, darling, but never forget. You may be a roommate, but I’m the wombmate.”
They all laughed at the old joke.
Bobby blew his nose. “So now what?”
Robin leaned against Paolo. “We go to Mom and Dad’s, show off our gorgeous guys, and then go home.”
“You sure? If you don’t want to go, I’ll understand.”
“No. I agreed to come because I feel like I can now.” He leaned back and looked at Paolo. “I’m happy. Nothing and nobody can spoil that.”
Paolo kissed his forehead, then started the car.
Ten minutes later, after wandering through the rural, tree-lined roads of the valley, they pulled up in front of the little convenience store. A sign said McMillan’s Store.
Paolo put a hand over Robin’s. “Ready?”
“Or not.” He shrugged and his stomach danced to an old familiar tune, but his heart sang.
Paolo walked around and opened his door—Robin had almost learned to stay put in the last couple of weeks—as Micah helped Bobby from the back seat. They’d started toward the front door of the store when it opened and their mom walked out. Thinner than the last time Robin saw her, she still came off as pretty—light brown hair she kept short and wide blue eyes she’d given both him and Bobby.
Funny how you can feel happiness and pain at the same time. Must be the definition of love.
She smiled, though it looked tentative. “Hi, boys.”
Bobby didn’t run to her squealing like he usually would. Damn. That made Robin feel like crap. He strode forward with his arms wide. “Hey, Mama.”
Her smiled reached her eyes. “Oh, Robin.” She folded him in her arms. Since she stood nearly as tall as Robin, it wasn’t a big reach to do it. “I’m so glad to see you, honey. How’s my brilliant boy?” She stepped back, still holding his arms, and gazed at his face.
The answer to that question washed over him like a wave. “I’m fine, Mama. I’m actually just fine.”
“That’s good news.” She looked toward Bobby, who still stood beside Micah, looking slightly uncertain. She cocked her head. “Where’s my sunshine?”
The smile that earned that name flowed across Bobby’s face. “Here, Mama.” He ran to her and joined in a three-way hug.
“Okay, I’m looking forward to meeting the men who have made my boys so happy.” She turned toward Micah and Paolo.
In a flash Robin saw the whole scene: His blue-collar mom, educated to the sixth grade and raised in a small town, faced across a parking lot with an African American doctor and an architect with the ethnic map of the world written across his face, who had driven them there in a silver Mercedes. What had they been thinking bringing the guys here?
Chapter Twenty-Nine
ROBIN’S MOM’S chest rose and fell; then she walked forward with her hand outstretched to Micah. “I’m Laura McMillan. You must be Micah. My Bobby hasn’t stopped praising you since the day he met you.”
He covered her hand with his big one. “That admiration goes both ways, ma’am.”
“I’m very glad to hear that. But then, my Bobby wouldn’t give his heart to just anybody.”
She turned to Paolo. “I know you’re Paolo but, of course, I don’t know one other thing because
Robin is not the most talkative of men. I do assume that you two have serious intentions, since I’ve never met a single beau of Robin’s in my entire life.”
Paolo took her hand in that cool, urbane way he had, then shared his dimples. “Ma’am, I can’t tell you how happy I am to hear that.” He flashed a gleaming eye at Robin.
She laughed and took Paolo and Micah one on each arm. “Our place isn’t real big, so I set up a picnic at our outside table. Come on back and we can have some iced tea and snacks.”
Robin and Bobby fell in behind their mom and her escorts and followed them to their picnic spot in the big yard behind the store. It was a nice space set under a pergola, with benches running on either side of a redwood table and trees all around. Their dad had built the pergola back in the day.
As they all sat, a young girl came out the back door from the store carrying a tray of glasses and some plates and bowls with American cheese slices and potato chips.
His mom turned to Robin and Bobby. “This here is Annette Babachek’s girl, Tiffany. Tiff, these are my boys, Robin and Bobby, and their intendeds, Paolo and Micah.”
Tiffany’s eyes widened. “Uh, hi.” Her stunned expression confirmed they were the most unique group Redwood Valley had seen in a while.
“Would you go up and fetch Chet away from his baseball game, please? Tell him if he wants to see his sons, he better get down here soon.”
Tiffany nodded and hurried back in, leaving the tray behind. Bobby hopped up and started serving.
The back door to the store opened again and Robin looked up, expecting to see his father, and froze. With the same handsome face and laughing eyes that made everyone love him, Harold Landrew stood on the porch.
His mom looked toward her brother. “So as you can see, I’ve got a surprise for you.”
Robin swallowed hard and his eyebrows lowered on their own.
Harold stared straight at Robin. Another man, tall and sturdy-looking, came out behind Harold and stood on the porch as Harold walked down the steps toward Robin.
Don’t flinch. Don’t—
Paolo slipped an arm around his waist.
Harold looked at Paolo and nodded, but then said, “Robin, I asked your mama if I could come and apologize to you and thank you for saving my life.”
“What?” Robin frowned even harder. “I didn’t save anything except maybe your kitchen from burning up.”
“Yeah. You did. All through those years you used to come stay with me, I was ready to kill myself.”
Robin crossed his arms. “Death by alcohol?”
Paolo tightened his hand.
Harold nodded. “Yes. I felt really sorry for myself. I fell in love with a guy who died. But I was deep in the closet, so I not only had no right to see him in the hospital or at his burial site, I didn’t even have the right to cry.” He shrugged. “I drank. I guess I figured I’d drink myself so far over the edge I could get up the nerve to die.” He sat on the edge of the bench at the end. “But then you started coming to visit, and I’d say, ‘No, can’t do it this week. Robin’s coming. Gotta be here for Robin.’ I know it was a shitty thing to do to a little kid, but I honestly thought we were having fun. I guess the fun was the only part I remembered.” He shrugged like he carried a million pounds. “I looked forward to those visits like—springtime.” He barked a laugh. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to get poetic.”
Robin just breathed—or tried to.
Bobby said, “You supported us with our parents and defied the whole town when they started calling us gay and fags and homos.”
His mother nodded. “Chet and me never would have understood about you two if it wasn’t for Harold. Course, we didn’t know he was a homosexual too, but still, what he said about you being made that way by God made sense to us. Seems silly to think God made everything on purpose except for one mistake. We came to understand you better.”
Harold smiled a little, but he still looked like he carried way too much burden. “Yeah. I knew you were both gonna turn out gay, and I didn’t want you to be like me. I wanted you happy and free and proud of yourselves.” He looked up toward the big man on the porch. “Honey, come on down here.” The guy lumbered down the stairs to Harold, who took his hand. “This is Caleb, my husband. I guess while I was trying to teach you guys to be proud, a little rubbed off on me.”
Caleb said, “We met in AA.”
“But I’d never have made it this far, Robin, without you. People can say you were a little kid and had no choice, but I don’t think that’s true. I think you decided to save me no matter what it cost, and I know the price was high.”
“He calls you his guardian angel.” Caleb smiled.
Right. “More like a guardian black crow.” Robin gave Harold a sideways glance.
“Well, now, I figure that’s just arguing over make and model.”
Paolo made a guffaw sound, and Robin finally chuckled. “So you’re clean and sober?”
“For almost nine years.”
“That’s—”
“Yeah. When you two graduated and went away to school, I saw this life sign pointing in two directions. I chose up.”
Robin nodded. “I’m glad. Honestly. Really glad.”
“And I’m glad for you. Obviously both you boys have found your way in life. I’m proud.”
Robin’s breath felt tight in his chest, like there wasn’t enough room for oxygen and his heart. The trees around the yard seemed to bow and tremble as some foundation on which he’d built his worldview cracked and dropped pieces on his head. How many years of bad luck if you shattered your own personal mirror?
Robin flicked his eyes up to Uncle Harold as his uncle stared adoringly at Caleb, who laughed at his jokes. So if Harold wasn’t a dark, twisted soul who chose the bad twin to drag with him into the mire, then did that mean—? Robin whispered, “I have to go.”
Paolo leaned in. “What, dear?”
“I have to go.” He spoke just a little louder.
“Where, darling? Where do you need to go?”
“Home.” Robin huddled against Paolo to keep the falling glass off his head.
“But we just—” Paolo gazed at Robin and demonstrated just how totally perfect he actually was. He looked around the small group. “I’m so sorry, but we need to go. Robin isn’t feeling like himself and needs rest. I know he wants to see you again soon.”
Bobby leaped up and scooted over to Robin’s side. “Oh no, dear. Is it like that awful flu I had that comes on so fast?”
“No. Not exactly, but I just—we could leave the car and take a cab or something.”
Paolo spoke warmly. “What he’s trying to say is that seeing you all has been wonderful, but right now he needs some processing time.”
The screen on the back door slammed, and Robin’s dad said, “Sorry I’m late. Damned Dodgers just couldn’t get it together. So where are these guys who think they’re good enough for my boys?”
Last straw. Robin ran to his father and wrapped his arms tightly around him. “I’m so sorry, Daddy. But I have to go.” Jerkily, he trotted to his mother, kissed her cheek, then took a breath and planted a tight hug on Harold. He spun and ran to the car. Behind him, his dad said, “Well, now, when was Robin ever the dramatic one?”
It took a few minutes, but Bobby, Micah, and Paolo all came to the Mercedes, where Robin rested against the back door. Bobby looped his arms around Robin. “Are you okay, baby?”
Robin nodded.
Paolo whispered, “It’s sometimes painful to change your mind.”
Micah said, “Okay, we’ve got choices. We can all go back to the motel and hang there tonight and fly out of Santa Rosa tomorrow.”
Bobby coughed a rude sound. “Oh hell no. I’ve seen that motel.”
Robin chuckled.
Micah held up two fingers. “We can drive to San Francisco and fly home tonight or stay over.”
Bobby said, “Okay, and what’s three—or four? Wherever we are.”
“We can get in
that comfy car and drive eight straight hours home.”
“Sold!” Bobby raised his arm. “Call that infernal motel and tell ’em we’re outie.”
Robin crawled in the back seat and laid his head on Paolo’s lap. Micah got behind the wheel, and Bobby reached his hand back and held Robin’s until he fell asleep.
ROBIN’S EYELIDS fluttered. Oooh, light. He squeezed them shut.
A soft giggle vibrated the air near his ear. “If you wake uuuup, I’ve got fresh OJ and lots of coffee.”
He pulled the pillow beside his head a little tighter against his face. “Intravenous coffee, please.” Wait, where am I? He opened both his lids and shoved back the pillow—pillow?—to find six other eyes staring at him. “Uh, did I miss a day?”
Bobby held out a glass glowing orange and smelling like—heaven. “Not a whole day. Just a night and a morning.”
Bobby, Micah—and maybe best of all, Paolo—sat on his bed in his and Bobby’s apartment. “I’m home.”
Paolo, far too dressed in jeans and a white T-shirt that set off his exotic beauty, scooted up to rest against his headboard and pulled Robin beside him so he could drink the juice. “This is home until the house is ready.”
“How’s the house doing? I haven’t seen it at almost a month.” He and Paolo had made hundreds of decisions and then seemed to get too busy to check into the progress. Paolo said he was keeping tabs on the construction supervisor. Must be okay.
“It’s coming along.” Paolo tipped the glass of OJ against his lips. “Wow. Good.”
Bobby grinned. “Micah made it. Even though he says orange juice has too much sugar.”
Micah grinned. “It does. That’s why you need some protein with it.” He held out a peeled hardboiled egg. “Bite.”
Robin complied and shoved pieces of egg into his mouth. “Good, but eggs Florentine sounds better.” He snuggled against Paolo. “I’m so sorry I freaked you guys out. Do Mom and Dad think I totally lost it?”