Improper Fraction

by V. L. Locey

  “Yes, I think I do,” I said it with such certainty that it mildly surprised me. “I mean, I still have some trust issues but he’s doing so well since we came back together. If only he would tell his parents.” I sighed as Dad nodded in silent thought.

  “What do you think would happen if he told the world? I remember when that pro basketball player came out. He was all over the news and papers. It was insane.” He commented, and I bobbed my head. I recalled that fiasco as well. “Do you think it could mess up his chances to play professional baseball?”

  “No, I do not. The pros now have all kinds of programs in place to make sure gay players are treated the same as straight players in the locker room.” I reached up to rub at the corners of my eyes. I was spent, emotionally and physically.

  “Well, he should at least tell his parents. Then he’d have them in his corner as well. The more support the better.” I was reminded of my announcement to him and then the Rooks all those years ago. Of course, Garrison had known way before the adults. He had never pushed me to spill my secret. He just stood beside me and gave me the support I needed. Now it was my turn to repay him in kind. “You look like you’re ready to collapse. Why don’t you go shower and turn in?”

  “I love the sound of that idea.” I slowly stood and pattered over to the steps, my father turning off the lights and following me. When we stood at the top of the steps, I turned to the side and gave him a hug. He embraced me tightly. “Thank you for being such a wonderful parent.”

  “If I had to choose a man for you, it would be Garrison.” He gave me a kiss on the cheek and then entered his bedroom, closing the door softly.

  It seemed that my father and I had the same taste in men.

  ***

  The following morning, I was up and out the door at six am sharp, wearing new walking shorts and ready to burn off the ten trillion calories I had ingested last night. As I walked past the Rook house, the front door opened and Tipsy ambled out. The old golden wagged her bushy tail when she spied me. I paused to scratch her head then smiled at Garrison when he jogged up to me, Tipsy’s pink leash dangling from his fingers.

  “Wow, you showed up to walk,” I said. He gave me a wink then snapped the leash to Tipsy’s matching collar. Not that she really needed a leash. She was an old grizzled warrior, close to fifteen years old now at least. Her snout was white and she never left the Rook property, not even if a cat ran by.

  “I told you I would. So, want to take go past the park or sneak through the woods?” Tipsy stood beside Garrison sniffing the morning air. It was cool now but the sun would be over the trees soon and the temperature was supposed to soar. I gave the question some thought while I checked out Garrison’s beefy thighs encased in dark blue spandex. “If we take the woods to the old Pinkerton place, we can stop and make out.”

  “Woods it is then!” I announced then walked off in the direction of the small patch of nature a few blocks over. Tipsy barked in agreement. Garrison fell in beside me. We set a good pace but had to slow it down for the dog. “I need to talk to you.” I told my walking partner as we crossed our street and picked up Crestview Lane. A car slowly crept past. Garrison and I both waved at Mr. Ashton as he made his way to work at the realty office in town. Garrison gave me a curious look.

  “Sounds important,” he said, and I nodded.

  “Last night when I got home, my father was still up. Heartburn from your mother’s garlic bread.” I explained when he gave me shot me a concerned look. “I know, I always get nervous when he says he has heartburn.”

  “So he was up, so what?” He gave Tipsy a gentle tug to get her nose out a Mrs. Minkman’s petunia patch.

  “He saw the marks on my neck and began questioning me about who I was with,” I said. His mouth grew tight and he threw quick, nervous glances at the houses we were passing.

  “Did you tell him we were with friends?” His voice sounded panicked.

  “No, I told him the truth.”

  “What?” He tripped over the dog and nearly fell on his face. I grabbed his upper arm to right him. Garrison tore himself from my grip. His gaze flew over the path that cut through the Peterson’s yard to the short strip of trees and a creek that we called “The Woods”. It was far from truly being woods but to boys of seven with vivid imaginations, it was a forest dark and deep. He jerked his sweaty dark head in the direction of the trees. I nodded in silence. We had no sooner slipped around the fence that separated the Peterson’s property from the creek, and he spun around to attack me like a cornered feral cat. “What the fuck do you mean you told him the truth?”

  “There was really no point in trying to lie about it, Garrison. He caught me with love bites all over my neck, my underwear dangling out of my pocket, and the smell of sex and ice cream oozing out of my pores.”

  “Fuck, Mal, you could have made something up.” He unsnapped the dog leash. Tipsy, who was so named because Mr. Rook had once had one glass of wine too many and staggered over to one pick out a puppy from a litter one of the neighbor’s dogs had whelped several weeks earlier. When he came back with the puppy and presented it to his stone-cold sober wife, she said that she was wondering what kind of tipsy nonsense he had been up to. Mr. Rook had said he had gone off to get that tipsy dog and the name stuck. “I mean, tell him anything. Tell him you hooked up with some guy!”

  “I did hook up with a guy. I hooked up with you.” I snapped back. Tipsy made her way to the tiny creek and laid down in it, her tongue lolling out of her mouth. “I hate lying to people about us, Garrison. This is my father. I mean, how the hell do I lie to the man who accepted me so openly when I came out? Who filled both mother and father roles for me? I can’t lie to him, you know that. And he knew. As soon as he saw the state I was in, he somehow knew.”

  Garrison pushed his fingers through his hair, his eyes dark with anger and fear.

  “I know, I know. You two are super close.” He turned from me and tipped his head to stare at the oak leaves blocking out the sun as it crept higher and higher. “Fuck, just fuck.” He threw me a look over a strong shoulder. “What if he says something to my parents?”

  “He won’t. I made him promise he wouldn’t say anything. He’ll keep his vow but it’s going to eat at him.” I pushed my glasses back up my sweaty nose then touched his bicep, my fingers covering the round tribal tattoo on his upper bicep. “You need to tell them, Garrison. They have a right to know, and you need to get some of this pressure off your back. Also, keep in mind that the closer we get the more chances there will be for them to discover us. Imagine how much harder it will be for them to stumble on us having sex in your room, or on the pool table in the basement, or in the damn treehouse on the sly. Garrison, we’re not teenagers anymore. We’re men and we need to stop hiding and sneaking around. You need to address this so we can have a mature relationship. That is what you want, right?”

  “Yes, yes of course it is.” He glanced down at my hand on his arm then closed his eyes and exhaled through his nose. “You’re right.” He admitted then turned to face me. He held out a hand and I slid my slick palm over his. He pulled and I stumbled into his arms, my hands slipping around his waist. “How do you open up that conversation though?”

  I pushed my nose into his neck and drew in a deep breath, letting his manly scent fill my lungs.

  “You say you have something to tell them and then you sit down and say it.” I murmured against his jugular. I flattened my hands over his lower back. His t-shirt was soaking wet under my fingers. We stood in the woods of our childhood, our arms tightly around each other, and I let him take as much of my strength as he felt he needed.

  “I’ll tell them after Labor Day,” he said, his words hot puffs that moved over my damp hair. “After the cookout that you and your dad will be at,” he pulled back to look at me, “because I am really going to need you there, Mal.”

  “Of course I’ll be at the cookout.” I brushed my lips across his. Tipsy gave a low woof that sent Garrison leaping out of
my arms. We both studied the path but saw nothing but a gray squirrel crossing the dirt trail.

  “Shit, I am really starting to get sick of having to do that.” Garrison confessed as his back found the trunk of a wide beech tree. Tipsy thought she had done something special and started slapping the water with her tail. The squirrel chattered at the dog then sprang up onto the side of a tree with craggy bark and disappeared into the leafy branches. “You think they’ll be okay with it, Mal? Be honest.”

  “Yes, I think they will be just fine with the news.” I stepped off the path and joined him in the shade. “I mean after they recover from the initial shock.”

  “I hope so,” he whispered as a pained look crept over his face.

  “It will be fine,” I said then rested my rump to the same tree he was leaning on. “Your folks are incredibly open-minded. They never blinked an eye when they found out about me being gay. Hell, some people would have forbidden their son to associate with a fairy.”

  He made a face at the derogatory name. “True, yeah, that’s true.” He seemed to unclench just a bit. “They love you.”

  “And they love you too.” I bumped his shoulder with mine. Tipsy hauled her soaking wet self out of the creek and shuffled over to us, her tail moving side to side. “Her eyes are all cloudy,” I said when the dog sat on my foot and began licking my kneecap.

  “Yeah, she can’t see out of one eye and is half-blind in the other as Dad says.” Garrison stated then patted the old dog’s head.

  “So, are we okay?”

  “Yeah, we’re good.”

  “Good. So,” I clapped my hands, “we can get a short walk in or we can slip back into the woods, away from prying eyes, and make out. Totally your call.” I gave him another nudge. He took my hand and pulled me off the path. Tipsy stood – I mean napped – guard. Kissing burns calories, right?

  Eleven

  September was a month that crept in on a ghastly wave of incredibly hot weather that sent everyone inside. Sales of fans and air conditioners skyrocketed. As I stood outside our family business with a bucket of hot water and a scrubbing brush on a long-handled pole, I cursed the idiotic kids who lived in this town for the thousandth time. Back in my childhood days, we only egged windows on Mischief Night. This was becoming a daily thing, and it was already past getting old. For six nights in a row, my father and I had come to work to find this kind of mess. Since paying a window washer a daily fee was out of our budget, it fell to me to spend my morning cleaning windows. I certainly wasn’t going to let my father stand out here in the blistering heat and do it.

  At least I had the knowledge that Garrison was going to have “The Gay Talk” with his parents this evening. That was the only bright spot in my life. I had no leads on any teaching jobs in the state. There were some in other states, but I wasn’t comfortable leaving my dad alone despite his doctors saying he was fully recovered. I also didn’t want to leave Garrison. He was now playing his beloved sport full time. There was little time for anything else in his life. Him getting a couple of days off for Labor Day was amazing. I hoped against hope that once Garrison came out to his parents that he would also do so with his team, and then the world. That was a big hope, and would probably be dashed, but I clung to it.

  “I hate kids with eggs.” I grumbled, rolled up my sleeves, and started scrubbing dried egg of the large panes of glass. I had been at it for an hour or so when my father stuck his head out the door. My shirt and trousers were soaking wet and stuck to my skin.

  “O’Malley, the Coopers just called to inform me that they had a family emergency and can’t keep their reservations on Kiawah Island this weekend. I thought maybe you and Garrison would like to go in their place?”

  I dropped the scrubbing brush and ran over to hug him tightly. Garrison and I had spent the last couple of weeks groping and sucking each other off in some out of the way places when he was able to sneak away. While getting head in a parked car can be risqué, I was over it. I wanted to have him in a bed, where I could gently make love to him. Despite his assurances that being fucked in the cab seats of his truck was fine with him, it wasn’t fine with me. I wanted his first time to be special and romantic. Hiding in the woods or rolling around the back of a truck was not romantic at all. So, we had not yet taken the final step that both of us so desperately wished to take.

  “I love you so much.” I told him as I squeezed him tightly. Dad laughed lightly and hugged me back.

  “Well, I figured you two could use some time alone. It must be tough to find couple time when you’re both living at home combined with Garrison’s schedule,” he said after I released him.

  “You have no idea.” I then dashed inside to grab a drink, let the fan on my desk blow the moderately cool air-conditioned air under the back of my shirt, and sent Garrison a text to tell him the news. “What do we owe you?” I asked as lifted the back of my shirt and wiggled closer to the oscillating fan.

  “It’s on me.” I instantly started to argue but Dad stood firm. “Just call it a gift to my two favorite guys.”

  “My love for you is like the decimals of Pi. Never ending.” I told him. He waved me off with a laugh.

  “That was on a Valentine card you gave me when you were seven,” he said and sat down at his desk. He took a long drink of from his tall glass filled with sweet tea.

  “The sentiment has not changed.” I informed him then dropped my shirt so I could text Garrison. The text asking him if he would like to do a weekend getaway had barely left when Garrison replied with one word followed by many exclamation points.

  YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  “He’s excited too.” I told my father. He smiled warmly and rolled closer to his desk. His fingers started clacking away on his keyboard, probably changing the names on the reservations.

  “You two will love it there. It’s a beautiful little villa right on a lagoon. There’s a golf course nearby as well as tennis courts for Garrison. They also tout a festive nightclub and an exclusive spa for guests.” Dad looked up at me and I nodded vigorously then went back to texting Garrison. I could get in to some spa treatments while Garrison was off putting or swatting yellow balls over a net.

  “I can’t wait to leave. I need to pack so we can bolt after the Rook’s cookout tonight.” I mumbled and texted simultaneously. Then something occurred to me. “Dad, if this egging stuff continues, I do not want you out in the heat scrubbing windows. Please just call Eddie the window washer, okay? Promise me?”

  “O’Malley, you’re worse than an old woman the way you fret and stew.”

  “Humor me, okay? Promise you’ll call Eddie until I get back. I still think you need to call the chief.” I added and got the huff I knew I would get.

  “I’m not calling Waldo over some kids being kids. He’s got more important things to attend to.” I rolled my eyes as my thumbs flew. Garrison said that he was terrified of this talk tonight. I assured him I would be with him as long as he wished me to be. “There, I’ve changed the names on the reservations and reimbursed the Coopers. Villa #7 is all yours.”

  “You are the best father ever invented.”

  “It’s easy to be a good father when you have a great child.”

  Yes, my heart melted. Maybe, finally, life was going to start looking up.

  ***

  “Perhaps you should consider substitute teaching,” Mrs. Rook said as her husband flipped burgers. We were all in the Rook backyard in shorts, sandals, and summer shirts. Mrs. Rook looked cool in a light green summer dress. She and her husband were both dark-haired and eyed a trait that they passed to their children. “This way you would be paid on a per diem basis and get your foot in the door.”

  I sat next to my dad on a glider. Garrison was playing croquet with Emily. Tipsy was sleeping under the picnic table. Our old treehouse rested over our heads.

  “I think that’s my next option,” I said then took a sip of perfectly made lemonade. “I’ve gone over everything in my portfolio and can’t find a thing
to put so many schools off. My Praxis scores were all at or above the normal performance range. I’ve had all my teaching statements and lesson plans approved by a Fields medal winner. Heck, I even have a glowing recommendation from that Fields medal winner and not one school will hire me.”

  “The job market is brutal unless you want to teach in inner city schools.” My father pointed out.

  “I’d be happy to teach in an urban school. Hell, I’ll teach on top of a mountain top if they’d just give me a desk and a student,” I replied then gave Mrs. Rook an apologetic look. “Sorry, it’s a sore spot for me. But yes, I plan to apply for substitute work as soon as Garrison and I get back from Kiawah Island.”

  “Good for you. I bet you two will have a great time,” Mrs. Rook said then pushed a strand of short brown hair from her face. “We went there once. If memory serves Garrison was conceived there.”

  “Your memory serves you well, milady.” Mr. Rook commented as he walked past with a platter of sizzling burgers fresh from the grill. He was a tall man with thinning hair and glasses, who shared a love of athletics with his son. Mr. Rook used to play basketball in his college years.

  “Mom and dad, yuck.” Emily called out from behind us.

  “Come eat.” Mrs. Rook told her children. “You two can play after dinner.”

  Garrison and his sister jogged over to the picnic table. He sat down on my left. Mrs. Rook was on my right.

  “It’s okay, I was beating her pretty soundly.” Garrison told us after we had our plates filled with typical cookout fare such as burgers, baked beans, macaroni salad, and deviled eggs.

  “You cheat.” Emily grumbled around a mouthful of hamburger.