The Rebuilding Year

by Kaje Harper

  “I’ll get the dishes and the kitchen,” John volunteered.

  “I guess I said the word bathroom.” Ryan feigned dismay, but he actually wanted his hands too busy for brooding. “Mark, the vacuum is calling your name.”

  ****

  Ryan was scrubbing the sink when the doorbell rang. He scowled down at the porcelain, which didn’t reflect his face because the enamel was forty freaking years old, and should have been replaced twenty of those years ago. The rust stains were not coming off.

  He straightened and put his supplies away in the cabinet. Then he slowly made his way downstairs. John was at the front door. Mark appeared to be lurking in the kitchen. From the sound of the voices, Carlisle had come along with Cynthia. Then Ryan heard John say, “Torey! Hey, sweetheart, it’s good to see you!”

  Ryan sped up down the last steps, to see John sweep his daughter into a hug. Torey spotted Ryan as her father put her down, and ran up to him. “Ryan!” Her arms wrapped tightly around him too, and he hugged her back with a smile.

  “Hey, princess, I like the hair.”

  “What about her hair?” John said.

  Ryan grinned at her, “Highlights, right? He won’t notice unless you dye it green.”

  A woman’s voice said, “I don’t think we’ve been introduced.”

  Ryan looked up to get his first glimpse of John’s ex-wife. Of course, he’d seen the woman in photos around the house. But she looked more fragile, less self-assured, in person. Or maybe that was the effect of a long trip and the slight bulge of her stomach around the baby she carried.

  “Ryan Ward,” he said, not holding out his hand given the lack of space in the crowded entry hall. “You must be Cynthia. Come on in and sit down. Can I get you something? Water maybe, or hot tea?”

  “Um.” She eyed him.

  “Yes,” John said. “Everyone come in, this way, sit down.” He led them into the living room and directed Cynthia toward the biggest chair. She eased down into it with what was probably an involuntary sigh.

  The tall blond man whom Ryan was assuming was Carlisle sat on the arm of her chair. Possessive, or looking for the high ground? John perched uneasily on the edge of the couch. Ryan made his bid for status by sitting in the big recliner, low and at ease, knees apart. Position of confidence. The posturing would have been funny, if the kids weren’t caught up in this.

  Speaking of. “Hey, Mark,” he called. “As long as you’re in the kitchen, get your mother a bottled water, and then come on out here.”

  Mark appeared after a moment, water bottle in his hand and a mulish look on his face. Torey spotted him, and dropped quickly onto the open seat beside John. Mark perforce handed his mother the bottle and sat stiffly in the other wingback. There was a moment where they all just looked at each other.

  Then Cynthia cleared her throat. “So, Marcus, how are you?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “I…we, your father and I, wanted to talk to you.” Her gesture indicated Carlisle, and Mark’s brows drew in further.

  “Stepfather.”

  “You need to listen to your mother,” Carlisle snapped. “She’s been very worried.”

  John shifted in his seat. “Um, guys, I think we all need to be calm about this. And I wonder if Torey shouldn’t maybe go watch TV or something. This is really about Mark.”

  “No way,” Torey said. “I want to come and live here with you too.”

  Ryan choked, but managed not to lose his calm posture.

  Cynthia glared at John. “You see?” Her voice was shrill. “You took my son, and now you want to steal my daughter.”

  “No one’s stealing anything. I didn’t take Mark, you lost him. Anyway, getting mad isn’t going to make things easier.”

  Carlisle turned to Torey. “You go upstairs, young lady. We’ll talk to you later.”

  “No,” John said. “If she’s going to put herself in the middle of this, we might as well all be here together, let it all come out. But, Torey, we are going to talk about Mark first. Your turn will come later.”

  “Mark’s always first,” she muttered, but she subsided into the couch cushions, eyes wary.

  “So,” John said to Cynthia, “I assume you’re here because you want to hear Mark’s decision from him directly. So you can be sure that it’s the right choice.”

  She shook her head hard. “It’s not. He should be home, going to a good private school, living with his parents and his sister, not here at some dinky public school, living in a boarding house.” She turned to glare at Ryan. “Speaking of which, why are you letting a stranger butt into our family business. You, tenant. Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

  Ryan didn’t shift position, but he raised an eyebrow at John. Your call.

  John hesitated, then said, “He lives here. He’s involved.”

  “I don’t want him listening in,” Cynthia said.

  “He’s no more a stranger than Brandon is.”

  “What are you talking about? Brandon’s my husband.”

  John took a deep breath. Ryan kept his eyes on his man, trying to give him whatever he needed. I can go, I can stay, you play it your way, babe.

  John said simply and clearly, “You brought Brandon into our family when you fell in love with him. I’m in love with Ryan.”

  “You what?”

  “I love him. I live with him.”

  For once, Cynthia was silenced, her mouth opening and closing like a fish. Mark threw Ryan an odd smile. Ryan figured he was either enjoying seeing his mother flummoxed, or thinking this would take the heat off him and his decision. Not likely. Think it through, boy.

  Sure enough, the first words out of Carlisle’s mouth were, “Pack your stuff, Mark. You’re leaving now!”

  “No way!” Mark sat back solidly in his chair. “I like it here and I’m not going.”

  Cynthia found her voice. “You’re not staying here with that… pervert.” She pointed a trembling finger at Ryan.

  “Now back off.” John’s voice became harder. “No name-calling. Ryan is my boyfriend, just like Brandon was yours.”

  “And did he know you had a teenage son?” Cynthia demanded. “Did he suggest bringing Mark out here? Having a young boy in this house with the two of you?”

  “Watch it,” John said. “Torey doesn’t need to know how your mind works. Ryan and me getting together has nothing to do with Mark living here. Except that it’s easier to care for a child in a household with two adults. Mark is my son. I would never do anything to hurt him.”

  “How do I know that?”

  John’s voice was rueful. “Come on. You’ve known me for twenty years, Cynthia. You didn’t worry about Brandon with Torey, and you’ve only known him for four years.”

  “Six,” Cynthia snapped with vicious satisfaction. Ryan could see the barb go home on John and did the math— a year and a half before the divorce.

  Cynthia’s hands suddenly gripped the arm of the chair and her husband’s knee with white knuckles. Carlisle might’ve started rubbing her hand for comfort, but Ryan thought he was more likely trying to unclench her fingers from his flesh. “Oh God,” she said in a painful gasp. “Oh God, you’re gay! I was with you and you’re gay! The baby… I have to get AIDS tested… if you… You could have brought home anything.”

  “Stop,” John said harshly. “Listen to me, Cynthia. You’re fine and the baby’s fine, at least on my part. I was never with anyone but you, before Ryan. Not anyone.”

  “Like she should believe that,” Carlisle sneered.

  “She should. I’ve never lied to her. I wasn’t with anyone else, didn’t even think about anyone else, male or female, until after the divorce. Then I dated a few women, but didn’t sleep with them. And then Ryan.”

  Cynthia was staring at John as if she wanted X-ray vision, but eventually she nodded. “Okay. Yeah, you always were the Boy Scout. But not telling me you were gay is still damned well lying.”

  “I wasn’t gay, then. Or didn’t know it.”
John glanced at Torey, who’d scrunched back into the couch beside him, her eyes wide. Ryan figured she was getting a little more adult conversation than she had bargained for, but maybe that was better than secrets. John turned to speak directly to Torey. “When I met your mother, first day of tenth grade, she was the prettiest thing I had ever seen. I fell in love, just like that. I spent the next two years chasing after her, until she let herself get caught. We had a wonderful senior year, and then after graduation we got married.”

  “Because I was pregnant,” Cynthia said bitterly. She glanced at Torey and looked down, but went on in a low voice, “Would you have even looked at me after high school, if it wasn’t for the baby?”

  Still facing Torey, John said, “I planned to marry your mother all along. She’s right, that I would have waited a while if it hadn’t been for the baby, your older brother who died. We got married at eighteen, which is very young. But I didn’t regret it. I still don’t. I loved her. We had good years, and I wouldn’t trade you and your brother for anything in this whole world. But your mother and I changed. What we had wasn’t right anymore. Your mother met Brandon. And now I met Ryan.”

  “And he made you… gay?” Torey asked in a small voice.

  “No, sweetheart,” John said. “I kissed him first. I chased him and convinced him we should be together. Because we make each other happy.”

  “This is such bullshit,” Carlisle said. “You’re not fit to have Mark here. I know plenty of lawyers and judges. The law is on Cynthia’s side.”

  Time to shift this back where it belongs. Ryan lifted his feet onto the coffee table with a resounding thump, thump, and let his gaze sweep around the room. “We need to take a step back from the gay issue here,” he said firmly. Everyone stared at him. Good. “The important thing we’re trying to decide is where Mark will be happy and safe, for the next few months anyway. He has a welcoming place here, he’s started school and is doing well, he has a band he plays with.”

  “I grounded him from band until his grades improve,” Carlisle snapped.

  “Which shows you don’t understand Mark very well. However many years you’ve known him,” Ryan said. “Music isn’t a luxury, like computer games, that you take away from him for punishment. Music is who Mark is.”

  “He’s just a boy.”

  “He’s a boy with a gift. He’ll be doing some kind of music all his life, and he needs it. I’ve played guitar for fifteen years, and he’s already better than I’ll ever be.” He nodded at Mark’s grateful look. “The school here may not be up to the standards of the one he was in, but if he gets B’s and A’s, as he has this week, instead of D’s, it’s a better place for him. And if he’s not being harassed here, it’s a much better place for him.”

  “He’ll never get into a good college from a school like York High.”

  “He won’t get into a good college by flunking out of Loyola either,” Ryan pointed out.

  “In the end, it’s up to Mark,” John said. “He’s fifteen. He’s starting to make his own choices. Better living here with me than running away from you, Cynthia. Assuming this is still what he wants.”

  Mark blanched as everyone’s eyes converged on him. He swallowed, but said clearly enough, “I want to live with Dad.”

  “And his gay boyfriend?” Carlisle demanded.

  “And Ryan,” Mark said steadily. “I like Ryan. He treats me like a real person. I want to stay.”

  “You’ll get harassed worse for having fag parents than you ever did at Loyola,” Carlisle said.

  “Maybe, but I think I can handle it.”

  Carlisle’s jaw tightened. “Well, I won’t allow it. No kid of mine is living with perverts, like that’s better than what I can give him. You’re coming home and you’ll damned well pass your classes and get into a college I can hold my head up to tell people about.”

  “This isn’t about you,” John growled.

  “My home, my rules.”

  “Which is why Mark left. And why he’s better off here.”

  Carlisle glanced at Cynthia. “Tell your son he’s coming home with us.”

  Mark bounced up out of his seat. “No way. What are you going to do? Drag me through airport security by my hair? You only fucking want me back because this makes you look bad.”

  “Watch your language,” Carlisle barked.

  “Fuck you too.”

  “Mark.” Ryan gave him a look. Escalation was not their friend right now.

  “Mark isn’t leaving with you unless he chooses to,” John said. “He has a safe home here. His choice.”

  “She has legal custody. She can sue the hell out of you.”

  “To drag Mark back to a house he’s run away from once? Who gains from that?”

  Cynthia extended a hand toward Marcus. “Don’t you want to come back with me, honey? I know we’ve had problems but it’s your home.”

  “Not anymore.”

  “How can you say that?” she asked plaintively. “Don’t you want to be with a real family?”

  “This is a real family,” Mark said stoutly. “Dad, Ryan and me. We do okay.”

  Good boy. Ryan gave the kid a firm nod, and saw him sit up a little straighter. “Why not let Mark stay with us through the school year,” he suggested. “At the end of the year, see what his grades are like, how he’s doing in the band, everything. See if he’s found his place.”

  “I don’t know,” Cynthia reached behind herself, rubbing at her back. “I just… This is all so hard.”

  The woman is pregnant. And losing her son to her ex. Ryan softened his tone. “Cynthia, you look beat. Do you want to go lie down for a while? Nothing’s going to change if you take an hour to rest. You need to think about the new baby, too.”

  She glanced at him, eyes narrowed as if she expected some kind of trick. But after a moment she nodded. “I think that might be good.”

  Ryan said, “Mark, why don’t you take your mother upstairs to the spare room. I put fresh sheets on the bed. She can lie down for a bit.” And if she snooped, there was nothing he was hiding anymore.

  “What are you now?” Carlisle sneered. “John’s wife?”

  More like his husband. Ryan let it go. Who cared what the jerk thought of him?

  “But,” Torey said, as Mark got up to do as he was told. “What about me?”

  Ouch. Ryan turned his attention to her. Trying to keep both Cynthia’s kids was certain to have her turn this whole thing to scorched earth. Please, let Tory be doing okay there. “Did you get into that school play? The one you and Char were auditioning for?”

  “Um, yeah.”

  “Good part?”

  “Not bad. But Char got the lead, which is kind of unfair, ’cause she can’t remember half her lines and I know both parts already.”

  “It’s your first role,” Ryan pointed out. “You need to ace it, knock their socks off. Then you’ll be in a position to try for the lead again next time. There’ll be a lot more plays before you graduate, if you’re really interested in acting.”

  “I guess but… I want to live here.”

  “Walking out on your first part isn’t the best way to make an impression,” he said doubtfully. “I thought you were okay with school, getting A’s and all. And it sounds like Char is a good friend?”

  “She’s okay.”

  “And think about this.” Ryan took his feet off the table and leaned toward her, trying to lighten the mood. “You’re going to be a teenager soon. Do you really want your dad and me to be your main source of information about clothes…boys…makeup…tampons?”

  “Yuck. Ryan!” she protested.

  “See? You don’t even want me to say the word.”

  Ryan glanced at John, throwing him the ball. Teamwork. John cleared his throat and said, “Torey, you’re welcome here any time. But we’d have to clear it with your mom—” Cynthia’s indrawn breath was so clearly the beginning of a violent refusal that John rushed on. “And maybe your mom could use your help, with the baby
coming and all, and you might enjoy that. And she can tell you a lot more about growing-up girl stuff than we can. Don’t you want to be there when your baby brother or sister is born?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Things will be, um, unsettled and kind of mixed up here, until Ryan and Mark and I get our lives figured out. If you can stand it, I’d like you to stay with your mom, at least till the end of the school year and the baby comes. Then we can do a giant review, see how everyone is doing, including you. Can you manage that?” Ryan wondered if Torey could hear the plea in John’s tone. Ryan would bet John wanted nothing more than to scoop up both his kids and run off with them, but the law wouldn’t be on his side.

  “I guess,” Torey said in a small voice. “But I miss you.”

  “I miss you too, baby girl. I promise, we’ll make sure you get out here to visit more often. You can fly out for long weekends. The money isn’t that big a deal.”

  Ryan teased, “If necessary, I’ll sell blood to raise funds for your ticket.”

  “They won’t take your blood, you know.” Carlisle’s voice was mocking. “You’re gay.”

  “Well…” Shit, out of the mouths of SOB’s. “Hey, John, we need to call off this relationship. It’s going to cut into my secondary source of income.”

  Without hesitation, John winged a magazine at his head. Ryan ducked, grinning.

  “We’re getting silly here,” John said with a mock glare at Ryan. “How about we give Cynthia time for that nap, and then talk again?”

  “Right,” Ryan seconded, with a wave at Mark to help his mother. “Come on, Torey. I’m in a mood for cookies, but the last time I baked, we ended up with chocolate-chip rocks. Maybe you can give me a hand.” He stood up and headed toward the kitchen, trying not to limp with Carlisle watching. Torey followed him slowly.

  As he dug out ingredients, his listened with one ear to the rise and fall of men’s voices in the living room. John and Carlisle. He’d have to trust John’s good sense to keep it civil.

  “Did you really bake rocks?” Torey asked, pulling out the cookie trays from the cupboard.