by Tinnean
“Yeah.” He worried his lower lip, and I couldn’t take my eyes off it. The hell with what Poppa had told the family. I found myself leaning toward Wills to take his lip between my own teeth. But then he said, “Uncle Tony still blames Dad for the accident that killed my mom.”
“He’s an asshole.” And not just because thoughts of him interrupted a chance for me to kiss my lover. “If he wants to hold on to a grudge, fine, but you were five freaking years old! You didn’t have anything to do with it.”
He shrugged. “This will work out well. He’s going to be at the nursing home seeing patients earlier in the day, so that will give us a few hours to have Grandma and Grandpa to ourselves.”
“And when he gets home?” I knew Tony Sabatini had moved his practice down to Florida after his marriage broke up, and he’d been living with his parents, supposedly because they were getting frail.
Wills shrugged again. “I hope he won’t pitch a fit when he sees me there.”
“Take your gun with you and shoot him.”
That made him laugh. “I don’t think Mr. Vincent would approve.”
But I would. I’d dealt with being tossed aside because I was gay, and I envied my lover his very accepting family. I hadn’t met them all, but even his paternal grandparents had welcomed me when we’d driven from Cambridge to Seaford on Long Island to see them on Easter Sunday. How would his mother’s parents react to the knowledge that Wills was gay?
I’d trained myself not to miss my family. Although I’d written to Ma and Acacia from time to time, I’d had more than thirteen years to get used to living without them.
It hadn’t occurred to Wills that, as a Greek, I’d have a metric ton of relatives. He never questioned why, when I brought him to meet the family, it was just Ma and Poppa and Casey. Even Casey’s boyfriend hadn’t been there.
And then at Easter…. Aunt Agalia and Uncle Konstantinos’s disapproval had been so obvious. The girls had seemed fascinated… more by Wills, I thought, than by my trashed reputation. Daria…. Casey told me she’d asked a lot of questions about my supposed career as a junkie and had said snidely, “I think she wants you to be her dealer!”
As for Alax’s hostility, it was the epitome of the Greek male.
I knew Ma hadn’t been pleased with Poppa, but even she wasn’t going to get all the aunts and uncles and cousins together and announce her firstborn was involved with another man. Especially since the reason Poppa had given everyone for my disappearance from Tarpon Springs was that I’d gotten heavily into the drug scene. I hadn’t said anything to Poppa when I’d learned of that, but I felt as if my heart had been ripped out again.
But my side of the aisle wouldn’t be totally empty. I had the boys—all the former rent boys who’d become my family, and they had promised to be there to see me and Wills exchange vows.
And I had Wills.
“It will work out fine,” I told him. “Now, why don’t you see what flights are available?” We’d fly directly to Southwest Florida International on Saturday morning, rent a car, and then after visiting with his grandparents, we could drive to Tarpon Springs on Sunday, stay for a few hours, and then come home. “I’ll get dinner ready.”
IT SEEMED like everyone was traveling that Mother’s Day weekend. Wills was able to book us a through flight from Baltimore—I didn’t ask how he’d managed that—but the only seats he could get were across the aisle from each other.
I put our carry-on in the overhead bin and tucked the duffel beneath the seat in front of me, while Wills somehow found space in the overhead bin on his side of the aisle for the corrugated cardboard box that held the bouquet of lilacs he was bringing to his grandmother.
“That’s the one thing she’s missed most about living in Florida,” he’d murmured as he handed the box to me and got behind the wheel for the drive to the airport.
Didn’t she miss her grandson at all?
THE PILOT announced we were about to land. Wills smiled at me from across the aisle, but I could see he was nervous. I reached across, caught his hand, and gave it a squeeze. “It’ll be fine.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Once we had disembarked and picked up our rental, Wills drove us down to Alico Road, where we picked up I-75 South.
“It should only take about half an hour to get to their exit.”
“Okay.” This part of Florida was different from Tarpon Springs, and I looked out the window and enjoyed the view.
He turned the radio to WAVV, a local easy-listening station, and concentrated on driving.
“It’ll be okay, baby.”
“I know. It’s just….”
I reached across and squeezed his thigh. Yeah, I knew.
We exited the Interstate at Pine Ridge Road and continued west to Tamiami Trail.
“I want to stop at a Publix and get some tiramisu. Grandpa likes it a lot.”
So we stopped at the supermarket and paid a visit to their bakery. And I suddenly wondered if Wills was looking for excuses to delay arriving at his grandparents’ home. Was he ashamed to introduce me to them?
Finally he turned down a road lined with live oaks and pulled to the curb.
The house was an old-fashioned Florida home, with a tin roof and Bahama shutters in case of a hurricane. To the right was the requisite sunroom, and to the left was the carport. A couple of royal palms flanked the drive, while coral and yellow hibiscus plants framed the front porch.
“All set?”
“Uh… let’s leave the luggage in the trunk for now.”
“Sure.”
“Will you take the tiramisu?”
I took the small white box, unbuckled my seat belt, and got out. “Wills?” He was still in the car.
“Just making sure everything is turned off.”
“And is it?”
“Yes.” He got out, opened the box that held the lilacs and took the bouquet from it, then closed the door and pressed the button on the key that locked the doors. He met my eyes and smiled.
I hoped to God I would never see a smile like that on his face again.
“Okay, then.” He nodded and marched up the walk, and, for the first time in the year we’d been together, he seemed unaware of my presence. He pressed the doorbell and waited, first rubbing his palm against his thigh and then running his fingers through his hair.
The door opened, and a small, plump woman gave a shriek and pulled Wills into her arms. “William!”
The tension faded from his body, and he folded his arms around her, the bouquet of lilacs almost whacking him in the head.
I breathed a sigh of relief. It was going to be okay.
A man of less than average height stood in the doorway. It might have been because he was naturally short, or it might have been due to his age. A corner of his mouth drooped down, and I remembered Wills saying he’d had a stroke a few years before.
“William. It’s good to see you.”
“Grandpa.” Wills hugged him, but I could tell he was being cautious. The man did look frail.
“Oh, lilacs!” His grandmother took them. “Come in.”
“We brought tiramisu.”
I nudged Wills in the back.
“Oh, and this is Theo Bascopolis.”
They both gave me confused smiles. “Where’s your young lady? Couldn’t she join you? But you said….”
“There is no young lady.”
“You’re not getting married? Oh, William, this was not well done of you! Your grandmother was so pleased—”
“I am getting married. I’m marrying Theo. You’ll come—”
“What?”
I knew it. The old man’s face turned red, and the old woman looked green. Great combination if this was Christmas.
Wills took my hand. “Theo and I are—”
“No! I will not permit such vile practices—”
“Grandpa, Theo and I love each other. What we feel for each other isn’t vile.”
“It’s vile and disgusting, and you
’re going straight to hell! You and this abomination beside you!” the old man spewed venomously.
“Grandpa, no! Theo is the best thing—”
“Anthony was right about you! You’re no better than your father! I curse the day I ever agreed to let my daughter see him. If she’d just married Junior….”
“Who?”
His grandfather scowled at him. “I just thank God she isn’t alive to see what a disgrace you’ve become! Get out of my house!”
“But, Grandpa—”
“Go! I no longer have a grandson!”
For a second it felt as if time had rolled back thirteen years and my father was telling me more or less the same thing. God, I wished Wills didn’t have to face this.
The loss and bewilderment on his face was devastating. He turned and walked blindly to the car.
“So it wasn’t all his uncle’s doing,” I snapped.
“I don’t even want to know what you’re talking about. You corrupted our grandson!”
“I didn’t, but you’ve broken his heart. Listen to me. Wills is gay, whether you like it or not. This wasn’t a choice; that’s just the way he is. We’re getting married whether you like it or not. He would appreciate it if you came to celebrate this occasion with us, but if you can’t see beyond your bigoted beliefs, then he’s better off without you. I just have one question for you. How did you manage to raise a daughter as wonderful as his mother?”
I didn’t wait for an answer. I strode down the walk. The box of tiramisu was still in my hand, and I tossed it aside.
“I want to go home.” Wills was behind the wheel, but I could see him shivering.
“Okay.”
“Your parents—”
“Don’t worry about them.” We’d sent Ma a humongous basket of Godiva chocolates. “I’ll call and cancel.”
“They’re going to hate me. Just like—”
“No, because I’m going to tell them something at your grandparents’ house disagreed with you and I need to get you home.” They liked Wills, but if I told them his grandparents had rejected him for being gay, I knew how they—or at least Poppa—would react. He’d say that was what happened when you chose this lifestyle.
I didn’t think he’d ever accept it wasn’t a choice.
“I’m sorry,” Wills choked out. “It’s going to cost a fortune to change our tickets.”
“I’ve got a fortune to spend. Don’t worry about it.”
“If I drive, I’m going to crash the car.”
“Then I’ll drive, babe.” Fortunately, this one had an automatic transmission. I got him into the passenger seat. His skin was pale and felt clammy, and his hands were shaking so hard I had to buckle him up.
I knew what he was required to do for his job at the WBIS—when he troubleshot, there were times people actually got shot—but to be repudiated by family, who were supposed to love him….
I glanced back at the house. The bouquet of lilacs was scattered across the porch. If he’d had his gun on him, I’d have taken it, gone back, and shot those poor excuses for grandparents.
Once I was behind the wheel and had the engine running, I turned on the heater full blast, then made a U-turn and drove to the crossroad that would take us back to Tamiami Trail.
“My mom used to make these things for me. They were just flour and water, and she’d fry them. When they were done, she’d sprinkle them with salt or sugar.” Wills squeezed the bridge of his nose. “Grandma taught her how. She called them crispelettes. I haven’t thought of them in ages.”
“I’ll make them for you, babe.” But I didn’t think he heard me.
“The year I was nine, Grandpa said he was going to teach me how to make wine.”
“Excuse me?”
“I told you I’d stay with them for a few weeks every summer. That year Dad put me on a jet, and when Grandpa picked me up at the airport, he told me it was time I learned how to make wine. The next day we drove up to this vineyard in Clermont. The owner was Italian, and Grandpa said he knew him from the old neighborhood. We stayed overnight, and when we drove back to Naples, the trunk was filled with crates of muscadine grapes.”
I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I followed the signs to the interstate, kept my mouth shut, and let him talk.
It was obvious the memory was one he cherished, but how was he going to reconcile the grandfather who had so loved him with this version, who wanted nothing more to do with him?
“Babe….” I reached across the seat and rested my hand on his thigh.
“Theo. Pull over.”
“What?”
“Pull over!”
I barely got the car to the side of the road before he opened the door, leaned out, and threw up.
And that was just the first time.
Chapter 29
WE MADE it through security, but we’d no sooner gotten through than Wills bolted for the men’s room. I waited outside with the carry-on and the duffel and took out my cell phone. The number wasn’t logged in my address book, but it hadn’t changed in thirteen years.
“Hello?”
“Ma? It’s Theo.”
“Teo! I love the chocolates! But you must have spent so much on it!”
“I can afford it. Look, Ma, I’m sorry, Wills isn’t feeling well, so we’re not going to be able to visit this time—”
“What’s wrong?”
“I think he’s got a touch of stomach flu. You know you can pick up anything on these flights. I’m gonna get him home. I’m really sorry….”
“Enough, my son. I understand. It’s going to take more than an Easter spent together again to erase what your father did to this family.”
“Ma….” She was right, but I didn’t think she knew the whole of it. “We’ll try to come down another time, maybe for your birthday in June. But if not, we’ll see you at the wedding. Won’t we?” Poppa hadn’t said much when we’d called to let the family know, and he’d refused to talk about it at Easter.
“You will.”
I sagged, more relieved than I’d realized. “I have to go, Ma. Wills has just come out of the men’s room, and they’ll be calling our flight soon.”
“Tell your betrothed we wish him a speedy recovery.”
My betrothed. “I will. Happy Mother’s Day.”
“Thank you, Teo. God bless you.”
“Thanks, Ma. You too. Bye.” I turned off my phone and put it away. Wills came to me and leaned against me.
“Sorry, babe.” His eyes were red and wet, whether from vomiting or from crying I had no clue.
“Don’t be.” I adjusted the strap of the duffel over the handle of the carry-on and eased an arm around his waist. “Ready? Let’s go.”
I WAS getting worried. Wills had spent a good portion of the flight in the jet’s restroom, and now he was on his knees in the bathroom at home. I held his head as dry heaves wracked his body.
“Wills….” My stomach hurt in sympathy. He sagged against my leg, but before I could tell him I was taking him to the emergency room, the buzzer sounded, signaling someone was downstairs, at the front door. “I’ll get rid of them, babe.” I ran gentle fingers through his hair, dropped a kiss on it, and left him swallowing convulsively and shivering.
It had to be emotional—he hadn’t had anything solid on his stomach since before we’d caught our flight to Florida—but I hated seeing him like this. I’d opened a can of Coke and was letting it sit on the countertop in the kitchen, going flat. That should help settle his stomach. Then I’d make him munch on pretzels and suck on Dum Dums lollipops.
I went to the foyer and pressed the button on the intercom. “Can I help you?”
“Theo? It’s Jack.”
“Jack? Is everything all right?” I didn’t give him a chance to answer. “Hold on a second.” I pressed the release. “Okay, come on up.” I opened the apartment door, and waited for my lover’s father to arrive, trying to figure out what he was doing here on Mother’s Day.
Wills
found me standing there. “Theo?”
“We’ve got company, Wills.”
“Oh, God. Is it Mr. Vincent? I feel like shit, and the last thing I want to do is entertain.”
I brushed the hair out of his eyes, pleased he wasn’t looking so gray. “No. It’s your dad.”
“What? What’s he—what’s wrong? Jill? The baby?”
“Take it easy. He wouldn’t have flown down to DC if there was a problem with Peter.”
Of course the baby was a boy—other than Marti, the last time a girl had been born in the Matheson family had been more than 175 years before. There were still about four months to go until his birth, but Jill had gone for an ultrasound a few days after Easter, which had confirmed what we’d all taken for granted.
“No, I guess not, but why is he here?”
“We’ll find out when he gets up here.”
He nodded jerkily, and we stepped out into the corridor. Jack appeared at the top of the stairs, flushed and slightly out of breath.
“Dad, are you all right?”
“F-fine. Were those stairs as steep the last time I was here?”
“Same as always.” Wills breathed through his mouth.
Jack stared at us, and I could feel my face heating up. We still wore the clothes we’d had on the day before. Wills’s hair was damp, and while his color was better, he still didn’t look a hundred percent. I knew I didn’t look much better. Neither Wills nor I had managed more than an hour or so of sleep at a stretch.
He studied Wills’s face. “You haven’t been well.”
“You could always tell, even though I wasn’t sick that often.” He sighed. “Something disagreed with me.”
“More like two somethings.” I shut the door.
Jack gave me a look and then turned back to Wills. “You’re all right now?”
But his son didn’t answer. “What are you doing here, Dad? Not that I have any objection to you coming to visit, but it’s a long way, and it’s Mother’s Day.”