Memento Amare

by G. D. Cox

  "Yeah, I know. It's just ..." Clyde shrugs, still gripping Cole's hand. "This is the first time anyone's taken me home to meet their mom and dad. Ya know, like I'm worth it, or something." Clyde pauses for a while, then mumbles, "Even when I was with Melissa, I never met her parents. I guess that should have been another hint for me, huh?"

  Just three houses down the road, Cole sees his family home on the left, sees its paver driveway and guides the car onto it. He parks the car, then turns his head to look at Clyde again. Clyde looks back at him with unguarded, large eyes. He lifts his right hand to cup Clyde's left cheek, to stroke it with his thumb.

  "You are worth it. Always."

  Clyde rolls his eyes again, but he doesn't move away from Cole's hand. He doesn't quite look at Cole's face as he smiles that closed-lipped, soft smile that Cole knows is his alone to see.

  After turning off the engine, Cole sits back in his seat and gazes at the place that's been his home since Ma and Pa brought him back from the University of Chicago Medical Center thirty-seven years ago. It's the same as it ever was on the outside, a single family, A-framed house on a serene, tree-lined street in Lincoln Square, with its limestone stairs, oak hardwood porch deck, brick-paved backyard and two-car garage. All its windows and doors had been replaced by the GATF very soon after Cole joined the agency with ballistic-resistant ones courtesy of R&D. Its state-of-the-art security system that includes hidden security cameras and motion sensors around the house, secured phone lines, smart locks and internal home monitors tracked 24/7 by the GATF is also courtesy of R&D. (Nate has spared no expenses in protecting the families of his agents. Nate's own home is similarly protected, with the additional measure of its location being undisclosed to anyone except Cole and Bhargava.)

  Cole's eyes are drawn back to Clyde's face when he senses Clyde's unwavering gaze upon him. Clyde still has that closed-lipped, soft smile on his face.

  "What?" Cole asks quietly, his own lips quirked up.

  "Nothing. It's just ... it's nice to see ya so happy," Clyde says as quietly.

  Cole's lips quirk up even more, his eyes crinkling. Then he gazes at his family home again, and says, "Until I was seventeen, this house was ... it was my only port in every storm. It was my refuge from the rest of the world, even after I realized my bisexuality, even after I went to West Point and then became a Ranger. It still is." Cole pauses, then murmurs, "The only other place in this world that's as much a refuge to me is our home."

  He can still sense Clyde's eyes upon his face. He knows that Clyde understands the significance of him bringing Clyde here, of him granting Clyde access to this precious, shielded territory that harbors two such essential people in his life, as essential as Clyde is to him. He knows that Clyde appreciates it from the warm, callused hand that brushes his forearm, his hand.

  The front door of the house opens.

  "Phelan!"

  It's Ma, attired in a long-sleeved, floral blouse and loose, dark brown pants, coming out first to greet them. Cole gets out of the car as she walks down those limestone steps with one hand on the banister. Her steps are slow but steady. Her long, gray hair is braided and she is smiling broadly, her creased face rosy and lit with joy.

  Cole is smiling broadly as well when he reaches her at the foot of the stairs and hugs her with both arms.

  "Hi, Ma," he says, his eyes shut, still smiling as she hugs him in return with slim arms around the middle of his back.

  "Look at you!" she says after stepping back. She grasps his bare, sinewy forearms and gives them a shake. "You're all tanned! Where did you go on such a nice, sunny holiday?"

  "Oh, Clyde and I were in Colombia," Cole replies, utterly deadpan. "We had so much fun. It was an absolute carnival. You should have seen Clyde acing the shooting game."

  He lets out a soft huff of laughter when she smacks him on the arm. Ma has a gist of what he and Clyde do as GATF agents, but Cole always make sure to leave out as much violence as possible from his recounting of past missions to her. She sees enough evidence of it from the scars on his limbs whenever he wears short-sleeved tops or shorts. He can see the veiled sorrow in her eyes whenever she sees those scars.

  "And you didn't even bring me back a prize!" Ma says, her blue eyes twinkling now.

  "Actually, I did. That set of nonstick pans you've been raving about. They're in the trunk."

  When Ma laughs and hugs him a second time, he sees Pa walking down the limestone stairs towards them. Pa is attired in a navy blue, crew neck sweater and beige slacks. Pa's thin hair is almost completely white now but there's nothing old or weary about Pa's bright, crinkled eyes that are so much like his own.

  "Hey, Pa," Cole says, stepping forward to be embraced by his father as well.

  "Phelan. It's good to have you home again, son."

  Pa gives him two solid pats on his upper back. It's what Pa does every time he comes home, and it's like a signal to his body, his soul to fully unwind and breathe easy. Pa's lips are quirked up when they step back from each other. Ma's eyes are still twinkling as she peers around Cole at Clyde who's also gotten out of the car and is now standing at the shut front passenger door, scratching the side of his neck and smiling shyly at Ma before glancing away.

  Cole saunters to Clyde and grasps Clyde's left hand, ushering Clyde to his parents who now stand side by side facing them. Ma's smile is a lustrous half-moon. Pa's lips are still quirked up, his eyes warm and approachable.

  "Pa, Ma," Cole says with one hand on Clyde's lower back. "This is Clyde."

  Clyde's face is obviously red even in the sunshine. Clyde glances down at the paved ground, then up at Pa and Ma, giving them a fetching, achingly innocent smile that even Cole has never seen before.

  "It's an honor to meet you both, sir, ma'am," Clyde says, nodding once at them.

  Cole gazes at Clyde's blush, at the sincere respect in Clyde's eyes. There's a part of Cole that can't help feeling a bit amused at Clyde's bashfulness. Even Nate, the director of the GATF and the scariest muthafucker to walk the planet, could not compel deference of this level from Clyde until months after their first meeting in one of the interrogation rooms at HQ. (And boy, did he laugh while Nate monotonously recited every lurid insult Clyde spat at him during that meeting.) There's another part of Cole that twitches with a certain peculiarity at hearing Clyde refer to his father as 'sir'. As Clyde's handler in the agency, Clyde refers to him as 'sir' too, particularly when they're on a mission and on team comm lines. They're careful even on their private handler-asset comm line, restricting themselves to surnames.

  Ma walks up to Clyde first, hugging him with both arms as readily as she hugged her son.

  "Hello, dear. It's so wonderful to meet you at last! Phelan's told us so much about you."

  Cole can tell how shocked Clyde is by the affectionate embrace, from Clyde's wide eyes and muffled gasp, from Clyde's whole body going stiff as a wooden plank before cautiously returning the embrace, as if Clyde is afraid of hurting Ma by hugging her too hard. It makes a lump form in Cole's throat, knowing that Clyde had never received such affection from his own mother, that all Clyde's known about family is fear.

  Ma isn't being just polite with the last comment. With Clyde's permission, Cole had told Ma and Pa about Clyde's dismal past of abuse and abandonment three months ago when he visited them on his own for a few days. Clyde had been on a mission and couldn't make it anyway, but Cole also knew that Clyde wasn't ready yet to meet his parents. Cole knew that his parents needed to be informed about Clyde's past before meeting him, that they wouldn't take it well.

  They were silent as he told them about Clyde's homeless years on squalid streets, resorting to petty crime to survive in a world that was pitiless towards the poor and the uneducated. (He left out Clyde's prostitution. He would have done that even if Clyde had given permission to talk about it. That was definitely not his story to tell.) They were silent as he told them about Clyde's decade in Circus Majestico, about Javier Duchaine who'd taught Clyde so many of hi
s skills that eventually caught the GATF's eye, who'd abused Clyde mentally and emotionally and left scars that couldn't be seen. They were still silent when he told them about Tobias Barnett, who'd left plenty of scars on Clyde's body that could be seen with a metal belt buckle, with a baseball bat that resulted in Clyde leaving a hospital with casts and contusions and schooled lies that should never have to be spoken by an eight-year-old.

  Ma had to collect herself after that, shuffling to the kitchen with the excuse to get more tea while wiping her eyes with her fingertips. Pa sat on the couch adjacent to Cole in a leather-bound armchair, his weathered, familiar face so blank and glacial.

  Pa then looked at him, and asked, is he dead?

  He'd looked back at Pa, and replied, yeah, Pa, he is.

  And Pa had said, good.

  And here and now, Pa watches Clyde hugging Ma with a face so warm and kind, with the face of a father who can never bear to harm his child, any child. It is a face that Clyde had never seen on his own father's.

  "Phelan's been talking about me, huh?" Clyde's eyes are glistening, but Clyde is also grinning, his pearly teeth flashing with cheer. "Good things, I hope."

  "Only the best," Ma says, reaching up to cup Clyde's cheeks with both hands and smile at him.

  Clyde's grin falters, just a bit, when Ma steps aside for Pa to greet him. Cole doesn't blame Clyde for his wariness. All Clyde's ever known of a father was a monster who gladly wounded him and wished him dead, and trust is something that has to be earned, no matter how many good things there are that Cole can tell Clyde about Pa. Pa gets that too.

  "Hello, Clyde," Pa says, offering his right hand for a shake. Clyde promptly grasps Pa's hand, and is visibly shocked once more when Pa pulls him into a benevolent hug and gives him two solid pats on his upper back. "Good to meet you at last, son. Welcome home."

  The lump is back in Cole's throat. It grows when he sees Clyde blink those glistening eyes several times, when Clyde returns Pa's hug and fists his hands in Pa's sweater. This is the first time, at the age of thirty-one, that Clyde has ever experienced a loving paternal embrace. It is no trivial moment, for any of them.

  When Pa finally releases Clyde, there's a smile gracing Clyde's visage again. It's real and brilliant, and Cole thinks that the sun above pales so much in comparison to it. Maybe Pa's pats work for Clyde like they do for him, giving Clyde's body and soul a signal they've been waiting a lifetime to receive, to finally unwind and breathe.

  After a pat on Clyde's upper arm, Pa says to Cole, "You may as well park the car in the garage and unload your luggage in there." He strolls towards said garage with the garage door opener remote in hand. "We're taking Baby out tomorrow."

  "'Baby'?" Clyde asks Cole, glancing at him with eyes now dry and crinkled.

  "You'll see," Cole says, his lips twitching once at the bounce in Pa's footsteps. Pa will never, ever get tired of presenting Baby to newcomers.

  After Pa's opened both garage doors, Cole drives the car into the vacant side and parks it. When he gets out, Clyde is already with Pa in front of Baby, admiring the car's rich cherry red paint, black racing stripes and super sport wheels. Clyde's appreciation is genuine. It shows in Clyde's leisurely inspection of the well-maintained, sleek vehicle that still runs strong and stellar, in Clyde requesting permission from Pa before touching its cherry red hood.

  "This is a nice ride," Clyde says.

  Pa looks at Clyde, then at Cole who stands with quirked lips behind Clyde.

  "I like him," Pa says to Cole with a deadpan expression, and Cole's lips quirk up even more.

  Clyde glances over his shoulder at Cole and yeah, Clyde is smiling too.

  "Wanna take a look inside?" Pa asks Clyde.

  Clyde nods, and in a minute, Pa is sitting behind the wheel while Clyde is in the front passenger seat, now smiling like a little boy in a candy store where everything's free. Pa's lowered the front passenger window, allowing Cole to bend down and lean his forearms on the car window sill and look inside at Clyde and Pa. Clyde is clearly head over heels for Baby's red vinyl interiors and black-and-silver dash, steering wheel and gearshift. Cole and Pa watch Clyde run a reverent hand across the red vinyl above the glove compartment.

  "Red's his favorite color, Pa," Cole says. "And the outfit he wears on missions is red and black too."

  Pa looks at Cole, then at Clyde and Clyde's berry-red shirt, then at Cole again.

  "I like him," Pa says with that legendary deadpan expression, and Clyde and Cole break into chuckles while Pa gazes at Clyde with blatant approval.

  That's when Ma appears at the open interior door leading into the kitchen on the right side of the garage.

  "There's lots of tea and cakes for you boys!" Ma says with her arms akimbo, smiling at them. "Stop playing with that big toy and come inside already."

  And just as Cole expected, Pa perks up like a hound dog on the trail of an enticing scent. He covers his mouth with one hand while Pa gets out of the car and retorts, "Baby is not a toy! Baby is a beautiful, majestic machine with a 450 horsepower engine, an M-22 four-speed manual transmission and almost all its original parts!"

  His composure lasts until he locks eyes with Clyde. They break into more chuckles as Pa continues to earnestly rant about his beloved Baby to a very amused, unmoved Ma. Yeah, Pa can be pretty funny when he goes into a zealous tirade about Baby.

  Laughing like he is, Cole is blindsided - and gratifyingly so - by Clyde kissing him on the lips. Clyde may have already kissed him many times in public by now, but it is really something to have Clyde kissing him in his family home. In Baby, no less, the family car that he and Pa had worked on and bonded over for decades. He steals a kiss of his own by leaning farther into the car and chasing after Clyde's mouth, nibbling on Clyde's lower lip just before Ma calls for them again.

  The afternoon swiftly segues into evening, with Cole and Clyde getting settled in the guest bedroom on the ground floor and taking a short nap together on its king-sized bed before dinner. (His childhood bedroom was renovated into a home office for Pa over fifteen years ago.) Ma had insisted on cooking dinner on her own, wanting to surprise Clyde with it. (And yes, she is very pleased with those nonstick pans she'd raved about for months to him via his phone calls to her and Pa.)

  The smoked salmon fillets served on a bed of arugula and avocado slices with a side of crunchy, golden-brown potatoes aren't new dishes to Cole who's been entitled to eat Ma's cooking since he was born. It isn't Clyde's first time eating smoked salmon fillet either, but it is Clyde's first time eating a meal cooked by Ma.

  "This is so good I wanna explode," Clyde murmurs after the first forkful of smoked salmon, licking his lips.

  "That's what she said on our first date," Pa says, and oh god, even Cole has to shake his head and laugh along with Clyde at Pa's ridiculously deadpan face while Ma squeaks and smacks Pa hard on the left shoulder.

  "What was that for?" Pa says, still straight-faced and calm. "That was what you said when we had those cheeseburgers on Wells Street!"

  Cole is well aware of what Pa is up to, making Clyde laugh and helping Clyde to relax and truly feel at home with them. Clyde does indeed loosen up and become more talkative as dinner progresses to home-made choco pies for dessert, regaling Ma and Pa with happier tales of his days in the circus, of how the crowds raucously applauded him for his popular knife-throwing and acrobatic acts and always demanded an encore. Clyde's eyes are lit up, his lips curved in a jubilant smile, and Cole wishes that he'd had the chance to watch Clyde's performances in Circus Majestico, to see Clyde shine like the star he knows Clyde was. (And still is.)

  Pa decides to drop a bombshell while they're munching on the choco pies.

  "You know, Clyde," Pa says nonchalantly, "Phelan's had relationships in the past, but you are the first person he's brought home to meet us."

  Cole almost chokes on a mouthful of choco pie. He smacks himself on the chest, suddenly intrigued by the dark blue, intricate line art printed on the ceramic plate i
n front of him. Oh shit, it's true. It's just ... he's never told Clyde that. What is Clyde going to think about that? There's one conclusion he can guess Clyde will jump to, and he isn't sure if he wants to know Clyde's reaction to it.

  What he's got with Clyde, it's something he does not want to be temporary. He's already certain of that. And he hasn't told Clyde that either.

  He feels Clyde's gaze alight on his face. He clears his throat and takes his sweet time plucking up another choco pie to munch on. Clyde must have waited for him to bite into the choco pie first, because that's when Clyde's foot hooks around his ankle and causes their lower legs to slide against each other under the clothed table. He almost chokes for the second time on choco pie.

  "I didn't know that, sir," Clyde says, and Clyde's low, tender tone is what brings up Cole's head and eyes towards Clyde. Clyde's large, wide-set eyes are twinkling, all right, but there's that closed-lipped, soft smile too, a smile that promises an upcoming night of sleeplessness and passion.

  "Pa."

  Cole is so riveted by the smile that it takes him several seconds to realize Pa is speaking to Clyde. He and Clyde glance at Pa who gazes back at them with genial eyes.

  "Pardon, sir?"

  Pa looks at Clyde, then says, "Call me Pa."

  They're just three words, but they seem to strike Clyde like the shock wave of an explosion. (Both of them have actually experienced that multiple times by now.) Clyde blinks wide eyes, then another time, his lips parted and soundless.

  Ma leans in and says with a kindly smile, "You can call us Ma and Pa like Phelan does, or any variation of mom and dad that you like. It's up to you, dear."

  Pa nods in agreement.

  Clyde looks at Pa, then at Ma, then back to Pa. Under the table, Clyde's foot is hooking around Cole's ankle even tighter. Cole presses his right hand on Clyde's left thigh and rubs comforting circles on it.

  Clyde presses his lips together. Blinks again.

  "Sure," Clyde says when he can, after blinking another time, smiling softly. "Thank you, Pa, Ma."