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Watching Brad

WATCHING BRAD
Part 99​

I held Warren as he cried, gently stroking his back with one hand and his hair with the other. I knew he was frightened. He had put up a good front when we had arrived, but I've known him too long not to see the signs.

I tried to soothe him, to comfort him with soft shushes and whispers of encouragement. "It's going to be okay, Warren," I said softly. "Everything is going to be okay."

Warren lifted his cheek away from me and looked into my eyes, his tears streaming down his face. "I don't want to die, Teddy," he said in a ragged, broken voice. "Not now. Not when everything is so perfect."

"You're not going to die, Warren."

"You can't promise that, Teddy," he said, sniffling loudly. "No-one can. Not even the doctors."

"Come on, let's sit down." I led Warren to the wicker bench seat with the floral-patterned cushions. We sat and I held my arm open to him. He came into me, curling up against me, resting his left hand and arm against my chest and stomach and laying his cheek against my shoulder. He now held a tissue in his fingers and used it to dab at his eyes and wipe at his nose. My arm wrapped around him, holding him close.

He continued sobbing as he spoke softly. "For the first time in my life, everything is perfect, Teddy. For the first time in my life, I feel like a person that someone can really love. I'm not a fat little dork anymore. For the first time in my life, I feel as attractive and sexy as I look. And now you're getting married to Bradley and you have that wonderful family with you and you are happy. And I could miss all that."

"Warren," I said, "you're not going to die. Look at me." He sniffled, but didn't move. "Warren, look at me."

He swallowed hard, then sat up and turned his face toward me, his hand still resting against my chest.

"You told me it was just crossing a few T's and dotting a few I's, right?"

He nodded.

"And what are your chances?"

"Now," he said, "twenty percent that I could die on the table."

"And eighty percent that you will survive," I reminded him. "When did you start looking at the glass as half-empty, Warren. You've always been the most positive person I know."

He looked away from me. "When I realized how happy I am with my life now."

I put my fingers lightly on his cheek and turned his head back toward me. "Okay, let's go with that. If you survive the surgery, what happens?"

"After recovery, I will live a normal life."

"And if you don't have the surgery?"

"The doctor says I could live another ten years or so."

"Will it be a normal life?"

Warren didn't respond. He simply turned his head away from me again, staring at the floor as he considered what I had asked him.

I gave him a few moments to think before saying, "You've been a lot of things in your life, Warren, but there is one thing you have been as long as I've known you. You're a very logical person, Warren, and very practical. I know you've been thinking about this, so I want you to prove to me the logic and practicality of not having the surgery."

He sat in silence, staring at the floor, for a long, long time. I said nothing - waiting - as I tenderly rubbed his arm. Finally, he sucked in a deep breath and looked at me.

"I can't, Teddy," he said

"I love you, Warren," I told him. "I always have loved you. Bill loves you very much, too. He vowed to spend the rest of his live with you. Bill deserves to have you around and so do I. And so do the kids. Please, Warren. Have the surgery."

Warren smiled then. He nodded and leaned forward to kiss me on the lips. I let him. "I love you so much, Teddy," he said quietly as he drew me into a hug. "You've always taken such good care of me. Always." He leaned back again. "If things had been different, I would have made you a very happy man, Teddy. That has been my only regret in life - that you never gave me the chance to make you happy."

"I'm sor. . ."

"No!" he said quickly and sharply. "Please, don't apologize, Teddy. Just know that no-one else in this world has ever loved you as much as I do. And no-one ever will."

"Thank you, Warren."

He smiled again. "I'll have the surgery. I needed you to convince me. Will you hold me now? I really need you to hold me."

I pulled him to me and he settled into me as I wrapped my arms around him. We sat there for a very long time.

* * * * *

Lindsay sat in my lap in the livingroom, talking. The boys were in Bill and Warren's room, asleep on the bed. We talked a lot about Mom and Dad's new house and our upcoming wedding. We didn't talk about Warren and I or the surgery except to say that Warren was going through with it, but Bill caught me alone in the kitchen at one point and gave me one of his bear hugs.

"Thank you, Ted," he said. "Warren is a stubborn old ass, but I knew you could talk some sense into him. Thank you."

"You're welcome, Bill," I told him.

"If there's anything I can do for you. . . If there's ever anything you need. . ."

"Just keep him alive for me," I said. "Nothing would make me happier."

Bill smiled at me. "I'll do my best."

I kissed his cheek. "I can't ask for more than that."

The twins were recharged when they came bounding out of the bedroom, anxious for me to take them to the bathroom. Lindsay moved off my lap and into her Uncle Warren's lap as I stood up to tend to the twins.

As Justin sat on the toilet, he asked, "Daddy, are Ouma and Oupa going to live with us now?"

"For a few days, yes," I answered him. "They will be moving to their new house when it's ready."

"Can we go back to the other house?" Jeremy asked.

"No, Jeremy," I said. "We can't go back there anymore."

"But we can still see Ouma and Oupa?"

"Any time you want," I assured him. "They will be living very close to us now."

"Daddy?" That was Justin again. "Is Uncle Warren sick?"

"Yes, he is, Justin," I replied softly. "He has to go into the hospital soon so he can get better."

"Oh," he said. "I'm done, Daddy."

I helped Justin clean up and set Jeremy into place. They asked me more question, things like why the water in the toilet was blue and how many ants it would take to carry a dump truck and why bicycles have only two wheels. Things like that. I did what every father has done throughout history. I made up the answers.

We stayed for another half hour or so before packing up to go on home. I promised Warren that I would be there during his surgery. He didn't want me to be there, but I told him I wasn't going to sit at home again waiting hours for the phone to ring. He finally relented. He knew me well enough to know that I would be there, even if I told him I wouldn't go.

The kids clutched their crayons and colouring books under their arm and Brad carried a plastic grocery bag full of leftover buffet goodies which Bill had packed up to send home with us. I held the twins' hands as we walked down the hall to the elevators. Warren and Bill stood in the hallway, waving, until the elevator doors closed behind us.

The traffic was tolerable across the bottom of the city and we were slowed down to a crawl on the Don Valley Parkway only once near the Bloor Street exit. Other than that, it was clear sailing.

We were nearing the Four-Oh-One turn-off when Brad said, "Your Mom looks tired, Ted."

"I know," I replied. "She won't stop when we get home, either." I glanced at my watch. It would be almost dinner time when we arrived. "Do we have anything fast and easy at home for supper?"

"Just the fish and chips the kids like," Brad replied. "And the leftovers Bill and Warren gave us. We could order pizza or something."

I shook my head. Pizza wasn't a favourite of Mom and Dad's. They liked Chinese, though, and I knew a restaurant which served a decent all-you-can-eat buffet dinner. "Do me a favour and phone Lindsay. Ask how they feel about Chinese."

Brad did so. "They're cool with it," he said when he was finished. "Your father will follow us."

Dad insisted on paying this time. Chinese food was new to the twins, but I knew Lindsay enjoyed it - especially the rice dishes and chow meins. The boys couldn't decide what to get, so I loaded a plate for myself and let them sample from it. Justin discovered he really liked chicken chow mein with soy sauce and sweet and sour chicken balls. Jeremy didn't want to eat anything, really, until I talked him into trying a bite of my egg roll with plum sauce. He took a tentative bite, chewed it up, and made a satisfied ‘yummy' sound.

I don't know if he liked the egg rolls themselves or the plum sauce he could squirt in them from the little plastic packages, but he loved them after the first bite. I didn't bother loading plates for the twins. Brad stocked up on egg rolls and I stocked up on chicken balls. The twins ate from our plates.

Of course, the highlight of the visit was the dessert counter where they could actually select the dessert they wanted - and, of course, they wanted it all. They didn't get it all.

When we finally got home, I sent Mom inside with the kids while Brad and I helped Dad unload the car and van. The table and chairs and tea pots and such were left in the kitchen, but everything else went downstairs into the guestroom. By the time we finished, Mom had coffee and tea made for us. The tea, of course, was properly elevated.

As Brad reassembled the table, the rest of us lounged around in the livingroom. The twins should have already been bathed and dressed in their pyjamas, but they were still too excited at the fact that Ouma and Oupa were living with them now.

"Oupa," Jeremy said, "why do you and Ouma talk funny?"

"We grew up in another place far, far away, my Sonskyn," Dad replied. "I did not speak English until I was all grown up. Your Ouma taught me how to speak English."

Justin looked at Mom. "You don't talk like Daddy."

"No, I don't, Justin," she said with a smile. "I grew up in England. We speak English there, but we speak it differently."

Justin, who was sitting in my lap with his brother, turned to me. "Daddy, where is England?"

"Sweetheart," I said to Lindsay, "could you get your globe for me, please?"

Lindsay slid off the sofa and ran to her bedroom. She returned a few moments later with her world globe and handed it to me. I balanced it on my lap as I turned it so we could see Canada. I pointed my finger. "This is where we live." I slowly turned the globe. I took Justin's hand and told him to point his finger. I placed it in England. "This is where your Ouma was born. Now, hold your finger there." Jeremy was already pointing his finger when I took his hand and tilted the globe slightly with my other hand. I pointed his finger at South Africa. "This is where your Oupa was born."

"Wow," Jeremy said as he examined the two places where his finger and his brother's finger were point. "Was Oupa born upside down?"

I really tried not to laugh, but Mom and Dad were laughing so hard that I couldn't help but get caught up in it.

"Where were you born, Daddy?" Justin asked.

I turned the globe back around to Canada and pointed to the east coast of Nova Scotia. "Right here in Dartmouth."

"How far is that?" Jeremy wanted to know.

"A long way," I said. "We would drive all day, sleep at night, and drive a lot more."

"We would need lots of movies," Justin said.

Or watch Shrek thirteen times in a row. I shivered at the very thought!

* * * * *

By the time Brad joined us again, sitting down beside me and giving me a kiss, the kids were kneeling on the floor at the coffee table, spinning the globe around and asking Lindsay all sorts of questions. She did a fine job answering them, too, and needed my help only a few times.

"The table fits," Brad said. "It's shorter than our table, and we'll have to squeeze through the doorway, but at least we'll all be able to sit at the table to eat."

"Thanks, Tiger," I said as I gave him a kiss back. I wrapped my arm around him and hugged him close to me. I turned my attention to Mom and Dad. "So," I said, "how do you want to work this tomorrow?"

"I think," Dad replied, "we should go to the house in the morning to take all the measurements first. Floors and walls and then we can go shopping for carpeting and flooring. We can begin looking for painters on Monday."

"How many rooms are you painting?" Brad asked.

Dad sighed. "All of them."

"Whoa!" Brad said. "Way too many for me. Dad knows the best painters in town, though. I can ask him to recommend a few names."

"Thank you, Bradley," Mom said.

To Mom, I asked, "Do you have the colours picked out yet?"

"Yes," she replied. "I went through Home Hardware. We have always used their paint and I like it very much. I have the list downstairs in my suitcase."

"Is there much to be done before you move in?" I asked.

"I think not," Dad said. "We would like to get the downstairs done first. We can move in whilst the upstairs is being done."

"Well," I said, "we have Mark and Jamie on tap to help unload the PODS, and Nathan and Barry. I suppose it depends on how fast the floor guys and the painters can get things done."

"It will be no more than a few weeks, Theodore," Dad said. "Do not worry."

"I wasn't thinking about that, Dad. You know you're welcome to stay here as long as you want."

"We will stay only as long as we must, my Sonskyn," Dad said with a small, knowing grin.

I turned back to Mom. "How are you going to manage living out there? It's not like Crystal Beach, you know. I don't think they even have cable out there."

"I shall enjoy myself," Mom said. "I am tired of city living and shall enjoy the quiet of the countryside."

"And you'll be out there all alone."

"I shall make new friends, and we are buying a small car for me. We will be fine, I am certain."

Dad glanced down at the children and smiled. "I have already ordered Bell ExpressVu. It will be installed when the new telephone is installed. The children will have their cartoons."

It was all about my children. The house. The big back yard. The swimming pool. Everything. It was all for the kids. I was certain Mom and Dad would be very happy living here.

* * * * *

Dad helped me bathe the twins that night, sitting on the towel on the side of the tub as he gently washed Jeremy's hair.

"I must learn to do this properly," he said, "for when they come to visit us at weekends."

"You're really looking forward to this, aren't you, Dad?"

"As happy as you are with them, Theodore, we are equally happy. We missed watching Lindsay grow up. We do not intend to miss our kleinseuns."

"Grandsons, Dad."

"Yes, I know. But it is not too early for me to teach them Afrikaans. Lindsay must learn it as well now that I am here to teach them."

"Why?"

"Because I wish them to learn," he replied as he glanced up at me. "It is their heritage. It is their name."

"Why didn't you teach me how to speak it?"

"I did," Dad said. "You spoke it very well until the children laughed at you when you spoke it on your first day of school. You would not speak it again."

I could hear the pain and sadness in my father's voice. I could hear the disappointment. "I'm sorry, Dad," I said. "I don't remember any of that. I'll learn it now."

Dad looked up at me, smiled, but shook his head. "No, Theodore, it is too late for you. Our legacy will live on in your children. You understand Afrikaans. That is enough for me. My grandchildren will learn to speak it and they will pass it on to my great-grandchildren. The de Villiers name will survive and people will know from whence it came."

I hadn't realized that my fingers had become frozen in place atop Justin's head until he said, "Daddy, rub!" I returned to washing my son's hair as I thought about what Dad had said and tried desperately not to cry as I realized just how important my children were to him.

* * * * *

Brad had locked himself away in the quiet of the bedroom to study. The twins sat in my lap, sipping their juice and munching on Grandma Hayes' cookies. Lindsay sat with her grandparents, snuggled comfortably between the two.

Mom and Dad were tired. I could see that. As I suspected, they went to bed as soon as I put the kids to bed. Dad had four more days to rest up before he started work at the new shop in Ajax - and I felt that he would need them. I locked up the house, then went to the bedroom to check on Brad. He was hunkered over the desk, reading and making notes.

I stepped up behind him, placed my hands on his shoulders, and began a gentle massage. He sat back in his chair. "Mmmmmm," he moaned softly. "That feels good."

"How's it going?"

"Good," he replied. "I'm making notes on the stuff I'm not sure about so I can study them more."

"Can I get you anything?"

Brad tilted his head back so he could see me. "I wouldn't mind a kiss to hold me over."

Upside-down kisses can be a lot of fun, actually. We kept it going as long as we could.

"Is there any coffee left?" he asked.

"No, but I'll make some if you want."

"No," he replied. "Pop is fine. Oh, and could you make me a ham and cheese sandwich? I'm kind of hungry."

I moved to his side, clasped his cheeks in my hands and kissed him properly. "I'll be right back." I made his sandwich, grabbed his favourite pop from the fridge, and turned out the lights before returning to the bedroom.

I gave Brad one more kiss, then left him to his studying. I undressed, climbed into bed, and read until Brad joined me almost two hours later. We both fell asleep quickly in each other's arms.

To Be Continued
 
Thanks for your comments, and a special thank you to the new readers who have just discovered the story. This marks the 100th chapter in the Ted and Brad saga. Who could have imagined, eh? Thank you all for making it such a resounding success. I can only hope that I am able to maintain the standards I have set for the story and to keep you entertained as well.

(*8*)
Neil


* * * * *

WATCHING BRAD
Part 100​

It was after nine o'clock in the morning when I finally woke up. I glanced at the clock on the bed stand and saw the time and bolted upright in bed. Brad, of course, came awake immediately. The bedroom door was closed even through I specifically remembered it being open last night when we went to sleep. The only time we close it is when we're having sex, and sex hadn't been high on our list of priorities the night before.

Mom!

I climbed out of bed and grabbed my robe, tossing Brad's robe to him while I was at it. I had turned toward the bedroom door, pulling on my robe, and had started walking when Brad said, "Hey!"

I turned back toward Brad. He was standing there, naked, smiling at me and holding his robe in one hand. His arms extended themselves to me. "Aren't you forgetting something?" he asked.

I grinned stupidly and went back to Brad, falling into his arms and into a warm embrace and a very enjoyable kiss. "I'm sorry, Tiger," I said sincerely. "I didn't mean to ignore you."

He smiled back at me, welcoming me with his chipped-tooth grin. "You know I'm useless the rest of the day if I don't get my morning kiss."

"Well," I grinned back, "see if this holds you over until after breakfast." I pasted my lips to Brad's and kissed him as hard as I could. When I finally ended it, he leaned back and his grin grew even larger.

"Wow, Pops," he said, "you should sleep in more often. I like waking up like this."

"Yeah, well, duty calls now," I told him. "You go start your shower. I'll be there in a minute as soon as I check on Mom and the kids."

"I'll be waiting." Brad kissed me once more, then spun me around and smacked my butt to send me on my way. "Don't be long," he said as I headed for the door again.

The kids were watching Sunday morning cartoons. I made sure they were suitably kissed and hugged before I went into the kitchen. Mom and Dad were sitting at the table sipping their tea. A rudimentary floor plan of the new house sat on the table in front of them. The sweet, alluring smell of coffee filled the room.

"Why didn't you wake me up?" I asked Mom after I'd kissed her cheek.

"Nonsense," she said, shrugging it off. "When I'm in the house, you sleep. Now, what would you like for breakfast?"

"We'll get it after we finish our shower," I said.

Dad opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again and went back to looking over the floor plan. I knew he was about to object about Brad and I showering together, but this was my house and my rules. We would not change our routine to suit him. He did surprise me, though.

"I am sorry, Theodore," he said without looking up at me. "If the children are not bothered by you and Bradley showering together, neither should I be."

I was about to respond when I thought better of it. Instead, I said, "We'll be only a few minutes."

"No rush, Dear," Mom said.

I gave the kids another kiss and told them to be good, then headed for the bathroom. I locked the door behind me, slipped out of my robe, dropping it to the floor atop Brad's, and stepped into the shower stall. He was already shampooing his hair. He stopped scrubbing his hair long enough to wrap his lather-dripping arms around me and to pull me against him. I wrapped my own arms around his slick-skinned back.

"I missed you," he said, and he kissed me. "I can't wait until your parents move into their new house and they take the kids for the weekend and I can hold you like this all weekend long if I want."

"Wouldn't that get a bit boring?"

"Not for me, Pops," Brad said. "I love you every second of the day, but I love you most when you hold me like this. I love feeling your body against mine."

"Brad?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up and let me wash my hair."

Brad laughed, and then he turned very serious. His hand came to my cheek as he stared into my eyes. "I love you, Ted," he said. "You're the most handsome man in the world and I love you so much."

"Second-most handsome," I corrected him.

His voice dropped to a low whisper. "Not in my eyes, Pops."

Brad's arms pulled me tightly against him once more and his lips took up residence on mine. We stood there for several minutes, letting the water from the shower wash over us.

* * * * *

Mom was cooking our breakfast when Brad and I walked into the kitchen. We were dressed for the day ahead. She told us to sit down as she poured and served us a mug of coffee each. Justin came running into the kitchen and into my lap. Jeremy followed his brother, climbing up into Brad's lap. Lindsay stayed behind in the livingroom, watching television and working on her plastic canvas.

I was so proud of her dedication to it. She already had three pieces completed and assembled and had several more to do. She was determined to have them done before Christmas, and I was equally determined to display them the way they should be.

To be honest, I had expected her to have become bored and given up on them a long time ago, but this project had become a challenge to her. I don't think I would have the patience for such fiddly work, but Lindsay met the challenge head on and didn't allow the tedium or the difficulty to deter her. She forged ahead, sometimes cutting out and stitching over thirty pieces of plastic canvas to finish one single building of her new family heirloom.

For some strange reason, Justin decided he wanted to feed me. Mom had made ham and cheese omelets and sausages for me and Brad, along with toast. Justin was still sitting in my lap as I sliced my breakfast into bite-sized pieces. He took the fork from my hand, then reached for the ketchup and flipped the lid open.

"Hey!" I said. "What are you doing?"

He twisted around to look at me. "Putting ketchup on your eggs and sausages."

"But I don't like ketchup on my eggs," I said.

"That's okay, Daddy," he said as he grinned. "I do."

I have no idea what his liking ketchup on eggs had to do with me eating them, but he flipped the plastic bottle upside down and started squirting the red sauce all over my breakfast. When he was satisfied with the amount he'd squeezed on, he pushed the bottle toward Jeremy, who took it in his hands and did the same to Brad's breakfast. Dad sat there with his teacup in his hand, watching with keen interest and a curious smile on his face. When he finally looked up and caught my gaze, he simply winked at me, raised the cup to his lips and took a long sip, and set the cup back onto the saucer as he let out a very satisfied sigh.

"A father must do what a father must do," he said, and then his shoulders began to shake in silent laughter.

Justin turned sideways in my lap, sitting with his feet dangling over my left leg. He moved my plate to a more convenient spot, speared a piece of ketchup-drenched omelet with the fork, and moved it toward my mouth. I opened my mouth and Justin popped the egg concoction inside. I slid it off the fork with my teeth, chewed it up and swallowed it, and waited patiently for the next salvo.

I glanced at Brad. He was smiling broadly at me as he ate his own breakfast, happily fed to him by Jeremy.

Justin spread peanut butter on a slice of toast and then, horror of horrors, three-fruit marmalade. He held it up for me to. . . um. . . ‘enjoy'. I didn't enjoy a single bite of my breakfast, but it was the best breakfast I'd ever eaten simply because my son had fed it to me.

When I was finished eating, I picked up Justin, turned him to face me, and set him astraddle my legs before pulling him into a humongous hug. He leaned back from me, his blue eyes sparkling with happiness and his blinding smile lighting up the kitchen.

"Do you still love me, Daddy?"

"You bet I do," I told him.

"Can I feed you breakfast tomorrow, too?"

"No."

"Okay," he said. He grabbed me for another hug and held on for a long, long time. "I love you, Daddy," he said quietly into my ear as his tiny fingers dug into my back.

"I love you, too, Justin."

I set him onto the floor, took Jeremy from Brad's lap, and gave him his hugs and kisses and an "I love you," then sent them both on their way to watch television with their sister.

I sat back in my chair. Brad was sitting there, chuckling under his breath. I looked at Dad. The smile was still there. "We have Beano in the suitcase downstairs," he said. "I cannot imagine peanut butter and marmalade." He joined Brad in his quiet mirth.

I sat there feeling miserable and trying not to puke.

* * * * *

Bernice and John Hayes decided to go with us to the new house, both to see it and to help out with the measurements. Brad stayed behind to study. The PODS was sitting in the front yard, right where Dad had asked it to be placed.

We toured the grounds first. Mom pointed out the spots where she wanted gardens in the front yard. She now had trees large enough to create the shade garden she had always wanted where she could sit outside on warm, summer afternoons and enjoy the butterflies and bees which would come to visit her. There would be a babbling fountain as well, or perhaps a small pond and waterfall with Koi and turtles and frogs. She would need a heater, of course, to help the little creatures survive the cold, Canadian winters.

Around back, the kids were busy staring at the empty swimming pool through the chain link fence as Dad pointed out the boundaries of his new property. Dad had already talked to me about having the pool professionally cleaned before trucking in water to fill it. It would take forever to fill it from the well. One thing was certain, though. There was enough room in the back yard for one helluva big English country garden!

A tour of the house followed after which Dad and John and I went with the twins to start measuring rooms. We had two tape measures with us and the twins helped me while Dad and John worked together. I'm not certain if the boys actually enjoyed helping me as much as they enjoyed watching the tape coil back into its casing. I think they held the tape in place for me just for the fun of watching it snake its way back across the floor when they let go of it.

Lindsay followed Mom and Bernice as they wandered around from room to room discussing the paint colours. Mom had brought all her paint chips with her.

It took us over an hour to measure and record all the rooms and we headed back home in early afternoon. We stopped at Archie's store more to familiarize Mom and Dad with it and to let Joan meet the twins than to actually buy anything. The boys, who had been playing with the tape measures in the van, carried them with them into the store.

Archie greeted the kids with a great big smile and a cheery "G'day, eh?" Introductions were made and then Archie called out for his wife. Joan appeared in the doorway and grinned brightly as she came around the counter to greet us.

"Well, would ya look a' dat bye," she said. "I be seein' double if I be seein' one!" She looked down at the tape in Jeremy's hand.

"An' what might that be, b'y?"

Jeremy held it up in his two small hands to show her. "A tape major."

"Tape major, ya say," Joan grinned. "An' a fine tape major she be dere, b'y. Why, jus' lookey a' tall dem der t'ingamabobs an' doohickies. Ya got da whole shebang dere bye."

Jeremy's eyes were wide open, as was his mouth. Justin was equally as stunned. Jeremy looked up at me. "Daddy? What did she say?"

Before I could say anything, Joan laughed out loud and rubbed Jeremy's hair. "I said you have a very fine toy there."

"You don't talk funny no more," Jeremy said.

Joan shook her head as she laughed. "I only talk funny when I have something funny to say. What's your name?"

"Jeremy de Villiers," he said proudly.

"Oh, my," Joan said. "Isn't that a mouthful of a name. How do you keep the whole thing in that little mouth of yours?" She turned to my other son. "And your name?"

"Justin de Villiers."

"And a fine young man you are, too." She rubbed Justin's hair as well. "Is this your sister?" she asked, indicating my daughter.

Justin nodded. "That's Lindsay."

"No last name?" Joan asked.

Justin shook his head. "Just Lindsay."

"Hello, Dear," Joan smiled at my daughter.

"Hi," Lindsay said. She, too, wasn't exactly sure what to make of this strange woman.

"You have a wonderful family, Ted."

"You remember my name?"

"Of course. Good for business, you know," Joan said. "Now, if you will excuse me, I must get back to my work." To the kids, she added, "See you again, eh? Bye for now."

"Bye," the twins said. Lindsay remained silent.

Mom and Dad talked to Archie about the new house in Maple Grove as I took the kids around to pick up a few small treats. Joan's "t'ingamabobs" were worth at least a few cans of pop.

Back home, we had a quick lunch from the left-over buffet which Bill and Warren had sent home with us, then Brad took a break from studying and came with the twins and I to help with the grocery shopping. Mom and Dad took the Hayes' and Lindsay to go shopping for carpets and flooring.

Mom had given me a list of a few things she wanted me to buy and Dad had given me money toward the groceries. I didn't want to take it, but Dad insisted. "We are not guests in your home, Theodore," he said. "We are tenants in your guestroom. You will take the money."

The twins rode in their respective carts. Justin rode in mine and Jeremy rode in Brad's. By the time we made it to the checkout counter, the carts were full. Instead of two bags of milk, I bought three. Instead of four loaves of bread, I bought six. And on it went. We bought most of the same things we always bought - just more of it.

Of course, the twins had tried once again to get the latest in sugar-filled cereal they had seen advertised on television, but Alpha-Bits and Honey Nut Cheerios were as sugary as I would allow. For a special treat, though, I bought a few boxes of Frosted Flakes. I used to eat them when I was a kid and I turned out alright. I didn't think it would hurt the kids to have a bowl or two for a change.

Back home again, I carried the sleeping twins into the house and to their bedroom. They had been wide awake until I buckled them into their car seats. They zonked out by the time we got the groceries loaded in the van. As soon as I set them on the bed, they curled up into their usual sleeping positions. I pulled off their shoes and left them to sleep as I helped Brad carry in the rest of the groceries. Together, we put them all away before the rest of the family returned.

Brad went back to his studying. I joined him for awhile, standing behind him with my arms draped over his shoulders, gently rubbing his chest and stomach with the palms of my hands as I kissed his neck and cheek.

"You're making it very difficult for me to concentrate, you know."

"That was my intention," I said. "You've been studying all day and all last night. The boys are asleep and the others haven't come home yet. We could. . ."

Brad twisted his head around to face me. "I want to ace this stuff, Ted" he said. "When I write my final exam, I'll come home and ace you. How does that sound?"

I nodded my understanding. "How about a deuce right now, just to hold me over?"

Brad twisted around in his chair, hooked his fingers behind my head, and pulled my face down so he could kiss me. "That will hold me over until dinnertime," he said with a sexy smirk. "Now, get that pretty little ass of yours out of here so I can concentrate."

I gave him another quick kiss. "Just call me if you need anything."

Brad smiled up at me. "Thanks, Ted. Love you."

"Love you, too, Brad."

I went back to the kitchen, put on a pot of coffee, then sat down on the sofa and listened to music, waiting patiently for the coffee to finish brewing. As the final gurgles sounded, I poured out a mug for both myself and for Brad, prepared them, and took them into the bedroom.

"Do you have any idea how lonely it is out there?"

Brad took his coffee from me and replied before taking a sip. "Yes, I do. I spent two weeks in Thunder Bay by myself, remember?"

"Oh, yeah." I didn't want to think about that. "Can I help you study?"

"Not really. It's mostly formulas and terminology and stuff."

"Sounds fun." But I could tell I was disturbing him. I bent down, gave him a quick kiss, and left him alone once more.

I returned to the livingroom and continued on into my sons' bedroom. I stood there for awhile, looking down at them as they slept, and then I sat carefully on the bottom of the bed. I thought of all the hours I used to spend watching Lindsay sleep when she was younger. I would lie beside her on the bed and rest my hand on her chest, watching her sleep and feeling the small life thriving within her. This was life that I had created, and it filled me with such wonder and pleasure. I would listen to her breathing and feel it at the same time. I would smell her clean, baby powdered body. As the years passed, the baby powder smell became one of scented soaps and shampoos. They were the happiest moments of my life.

I couldn't lie down to watch my boys sleep. The moment my body hit the mattress, I knew they would be on me. I loved it when they slept in my arms, but I loved it just as much to watch them. They had lived with me for only six months and a bit now, but I knew everything about them. As I thought back to those early days, I could recognize them only by the tiny scar on Justin's lip. Now, I could recognize them at any time. I could recognize them from a distance simply by the way they walked or stood still. I could tell you which one was speaking by the sound of his voice and the way he said the words. And, yes, I could tell you which boy was which even by his smell. Even freshly-clean out of the bath, you could blindfold me and I could tell you which one was which after a single sniff. They even tasted different enough for me to know. I could tell which was which after a single kiss.

No-one else could do that. Not even Brad. You don't even have to be a father of twins by birth to be able to do it. You simply need to be a father who loves his sons enough to take the time to learn who his sons are.

And so I sat there for a long time watching them sleep, knowing that, even in sleep, they depended upon me to keep them safe. My children depended upon me for everything - the food in their bellies, the clothes on their backs, the beds they slept in, the roof over their heads, security, protection from hurt and sadness. The list goes on. They depended upon me for everything in their lives, and their dependence doesn't stop when they go to bed. It never stops, and it never will.

It's a tough job, being a father, but it is a job I highly recommend.

I heard the front door opening, and I heard the voices of the rest of my family coming home. I heaved a deep and heavy sigh, told my sons I loved them, then rose to my feet to be a father somewhere else.

* * * * *

We all sat in the livingroom. Lindsay sat in my lap. Mom and Dad sat on the sofa beside us and John and Bernice sat on the settee. Brad was still in the bedroom studying and the twins were still in bed for their nap.

Carpet and floor samples were spread out all over the coffee table and Mom held a roll of masking tape and a large felt pen, writing the names of rooms onto a piece tape stuck to the samples. For convenience and ease, Mom and Dad decided to do the entire upstairs (except for the bathroom there) in a nice, neutral berber carpet with a simple, geometric pattern in it. Dad thought the beige would be easier to keep clean, but Mom was leaning toward the cream. "The cream," she said, "will match better with any colours the children want for their rooms." There was no piece of tape stuck to the beige berber.

The stair treads, John discovered, were oak, as was the rail. They would be stripped down and stained a deep, rich colour. The balustrade would be sanded and painted white to match the risers on the stairs.

Mom had already decided on using cork floors for the kitchen. "It is so wonderful, Teddy," she said. "It is so warm and soft, yet it is so solid and durable and waterproof at the same time. I wish to have it installed in the laundry room and, perhaps, the bathrooms as well."

"It is being installed in the family room," Dad said. "The children can play on it all day long, even in Winter."

"No carpet?" I asked.

Dad shook his head and smiled at me. "Yoda falls down on carpets."

I smiled back at Dad. He was still thinking of the kids.

Speaking of kids, two pairs of pounding feet and two almost-identical smiling faces came running out of the bedroom and up onto the sofa beside me, one on either side. Mom and Dad had to scooch over to make room for Justin.

"I love you, Daddy," Justin said as he looked up at me with a wide, mischievous smile on his little face.

"I love you, too, Justin," I replied. "What do you want?"

Justin leaned forward to look around me at his Grandma Hayes.

"Some of Grandma's cookies."

I had opened my mouth and the ‘N' was forming on my tongue when Bernice said, "Of course you can."

As she stood up, I told her, "Only two each, with milk." To the kids, I said, "Go with Grandma and pick out your cookies. Remember, only two each."

The twins bounced off the sofa and headed for the kitchen as Lindsay slid down from my lap.

That is when the phone rang.

I leaned forward and picked up the phone. "Hello?" I said.

"Hello, Ted."

The voice was female and immediately recognizable.

It was Connie.

The Bitch was back!

To Be Continued
 
Oh no. Not the Bitch! And it was such a good chapter up til that point, too. Oh well. I can't wait to hear what happens on Monday.

Zac
 
This is scary. I'm sure she didn't call just to say 'hi'.

BTW, Niel, you should have named her Joan or Alexis, because everytime she is mentioned I get a mental picture of Joan Collins at her bitchiest in Dynasty.

Can't wait for Monday to see what she is up to

Thanks for the story.

Wally
 
Neil: All I can say is that I found the story one of the best I hae read. I was sorry it stopped where it did. I hope to have a better ending soon. I was sorry to hear about Sam Morgan and sympathize because I know how I felt when my dog, Suzzie, had to be put down. Keep writing and I am looking forward to further sagas of Ted, Brad and family.:=D: (*8*)
 
I recentlly found your story in my JUB newsletter and am all caught up, fantastic journey, can't wait for the next chapter. Thanks for the pleasure you are giving us.
Roger
 
WATCHING BRAD
Part 101​

I sat there in silence, holding my breath, not daring to let it out lest a helpless whimper accompany it. The phone was pressed to my ear and my eyes followed Lindsay as she walked in total ignorance toward the kitchen. I must have been silent too long. Connie's voice came back again.

"Ted?" she said. "Are you there?"

"What in hell do you want!?" I whispered as quietly as I could, but there was no disguising the fury in my voice.

"Please, Ted, I need to talk to you."

Mom put her hand on my thigh. She knew instinctively that something was very wrong. I turned to look at her and I could see the question all over her face. I covered the mouthpiece of the receiver and whispered lightly, "Connie." Mom's fingers dug into my leg as a look of fear washed over her.

"Ted, please," Connie said, "don't hang up. I must talk to you. Please."

A million thoughts flew through my mind in an instant. What could she possibly want from me? What could she possibly do to me!? I had visions of her changing her mind and dragging me from court to court, fighting to get Lindsay back. I had visions of her trying to destroy my relationship with and up-coming marriage to Brad. I had visions of her stalking me and my children, trying to scare me into paying her alimony again. Al had assured me that it would take a cold, uncaring, unfeeling judge who would grant her alimony once more, but still, she could keep me in court trying to get it. She was powerless against me. She might make life miserable for me, but. . .

"Ted, please," she begged pathetically. She sounded sincere, but she was so good at doing that.

I closed my eyes and took a deep, calming breath before uncovering the mouthpiece. "I can't talk here," I told her harshly. "I'll take the call in my bedroom. Don't say anything until I tell you it's okay! Not one single word!"

I covered the mouthpiece again and turned to Mom and Dad. "Keep the kids here and, for God's sake, don't let them touch the phone. I'll have Brad hang this up when I send him out."

Mom nodded. I set the phone on the table and almost ran to my bedroom. Brad looked up as I barged in. "I need you to leave, Brad," I said desperately. "Connie's on the phone."

"Oh, God!" A look of terror and worry swept over Brad's face. He stood up from his chair and grabbed my arms in his hands. "Connie? What does she want?"

"I don't know. But I need you to go out there and hang up the phone, and please keep the kids away from this room. Don't let anyone near the hallway, especially Lindsay."

"Okay," Brad said, nodding, and he gave me a reassuring hug. He pulled away almost immediately, keeping his hands on my arms. "Gee-sus, Murphy, Ted! You're shaking!"

I grabbed him in another hug and held him tighter than I've ever held him before. "Just take care of my kids for me."

I released him. "I will," he said. "Call if you need me."

I nodded. Brad gave me a quick kiss on the cheek, said, "I love you," and left the room, closing the door behind him, without waiting for me to return the sentiment.

I sat on the side of the bed and picked up the phone. "I'm here, Connie. Don't say anything until the click." She remained silent, as did I. A few moments later, there were some clunking sounds of the phone in the livingroom being fumbled around against the table, then Brad's voice came over the line. "I've got it, Ted," he said. The ‘click' of the phone being cradled sounded and everything fell silent.

"Okay, Connie," I said, "what in hell is this all about?"

"Was that your friend?"

"Who? Brad? Yes, it was," I said angrily. "What of it?"

"He sounds very nice."

"Lay off the fuckin' bullshit, Connie!" I shouted harshly into the phone while keeping my voice as quiet as possible. "What in hell are you up to!?"

"Please, Ted, I only have about sixteen minutes left on this call," she said calmly whilst still sounding earnest. "Don't let's fight, okay?"

As I took another calming breath, Connie continued. "I'm coming up for parole in three weeks."

"I know."

"Will you be there?"

"You're damned right I'll be there! And I'll make sure your sorry ass stays right where it is!"

"I'm not asking any favours, Ted."

"And you aren't getting any," I told her bluntly. "Not from me! I warn you, if you come near my daughter. . ." I left the sentence unfinished.

"I have no intention of doing that, Ted. She's not my daughter anymore. I gave her to you, remember?"

"Cut to the chase, Connie!" I told her. Anger and frustration filled my voice and it was much louder than I had intended it to be. "What in hell do you want!?"

"Like I said, I'm not asking any favours. If I get parole, fine. If I don't, then I'll go on as I have been and finish out my sentence. I didn't ask for parole, Ted. I don't have a choice. It's the law."

"You're right where you deserve to be!"

"I know," she said quietly. "That's why I didn't ask for parole. What I did to Lindsay was reprehensible, and I'm very sorry for that."

"Don't give me that bullshit, you fuckin' bitch! You haven't been sorry about anything for the past six years!"

There was a long pause before Connie spoke again. "I guess I deserved that, too, Ted," she said sadly, "because it's true. I've had a lot of time to think in here. There isn't much else to do in here except to think. I hated you so much for the first few months. I thought it was all your fault that I was in here and I hated you for putting me here. I blamed you for taking away my daughter and my home and my life. After awhile, though, I began thinking why you would do this to me and I couldn't think of a single reason. And then I suddenly realized one morning that you didn't do it. I did it all myself."

I was taken aback. This was more like the Connie I had once known and fell in love with so many years ago. A thought suddenly popped into my mind.

"I'm not taking you back, Connie," I said calmly. "I'm in love with someone else and I'm getting married soon. And you're not getting Lindsay back, either."

"I know, Ted. Is he the fellow you went to Warren's wedding with? The young man in the photos David took for me?"

"Yes, it is."

"I remember him. He's very handsome."

"What, no ‘robbing the cradle' comments? No ‘gold diggers'?"

"I was the gold digger, Ted. Remember? Do you love him?"

"Very much."

"More than you loved me?"

"Way more."

There was another long pause. I think she was waiting for me to respond. I didn't. Instead, she asked, "Does he make you happy?"

I decided to rub her nose in it - to test her. "Brad makes me feel better than you ever could, Connie. At least he's not afraid to give me a friggin' blowjob!"

Her response wasn't quite what I expected it would be. "Then I'm happy for you. Really, I am, Ted. You must believe me."

"I'm not sure I can believe anything you say ever again."

"I wouldn't blame you if you don't," she said. "Look, my time's running out. There's something I have to say, okay? I'm not here to make trouble for you, Ted. I'm not looking for handouts or for help of any kind. I won't even try to get visitation with Lindsay. I'm out of your lives and I'll stay out. I just want to thank you for everything you did for me."

"What?" I was astounded. "What did I do?"

"Paying off my lease," she replied. "Paying the movers to make sure all my stuff was safe. Paying for the storage units. Thank you for all that. I want to pay you back for it."

"I don't want your money, Connie."

"Then put it into Lindsay's bank account. Do whatever you want with it. Give it to charity. I don't care. If and when I get parole, or even if I have to serve my full sentence, I intend to pay you back every single penny for all you did for me."

"And just how do you plan on doing that, Connie?" I asked. "My sons have bigger bank accounts than you do."

"Sons?"

"Yes, my sons," I told her. "I've adopted a set of twins."

There was a short pause. "You never cease to amaze me, Ted. With everything going on in your life, you're still making other people's lives better."

"Quit dodging the question," I reminded her. "How do you plan on paying me back? You're broke."

"When I get out of here, I'm selling off my stuff in storage. My clothes. My jewelry. My furniture. At least, the furniture you don't want."

"I don't need it."

"Okay, that's fine," she continued. "I'm going to take only what I need and sell the rest. I'll pay you back and I'll take what money is left over and move away from here. You'll never have to see me again."

"How far away?"

Connie chuckled. "You always new how to cheer me up, Ted."

"How far?" I repeated.

"Out west somewhere. Surrey, maybe, or Victoria. Or maybe even Vancouver. I've always wanted to live near the mountains."

I stayed silent, waiting for her to continue.

"I've changed, Ted," she said softly. "I'm not the same person you saw in court last year. I'm not the same person who was dragged off to prison in handcuffs. I'm not the same person who put our. . . your daughter in a cast. Money changed me the last time. I know that now. I don't hold you responsible for any of it, Ted. It's all my fault. I only hope that you and Lindsay can find it in your hearts to forgive me someday."

"You don't even exist anymore as far as Lindsay's concerned. She doesn't even talk about you. You hurt her, Connie. You hurt her bad. She's where she wants to be now and she's happy. She has two new brothers and she loves Brad almost as much as I do. She doesn't have a mother anymore. She doesn't need one."

"I deserve that, too," she said with a sadness in her voice which took me by surprise. "When I think of how much I allowed her to be hurt. . . and why. . ."

I was stunned to silence. Connie was a good actress, but this was the Connie from way back when. Different even than that. Perhaps she really had changed. Perhaps she really was being sincere and repentant.

"It's a nice name, Ted," she said suddenly.

"What? Who?"

"Brad. Your. . . um. . . I don't know. Boyfriend? I don't know what to call him."

"He's my fiancé," I said.

"Fiancé sounds much better than boyfriend. Anyway, it's a nice name. It suits him. What about your sons? What are their names?"

"Justin and Jeremy," I said. Before she could ask the question, I answered it. "They're four years old. They'll be five in July. Look, Connie, if you're thinking of making trouble for me and Brad, you're. . ."

She cut me off in mid-sentence. "I already told you, Ted. I won't make trouble for you. You deserve to be happy again after what I did to you. If it takes a man to make you happy, then that is all I want for you." She paused a moment. "Could you bring a picture to the hearing? A picture of the boys? I'd like to see them. And a picture of Lindsay, too, if it's not too much trouble. The only one I have of her is from before you moved out."

"You didn't even take picture of her?"

"That's how much I had changed, Ted. Lindsay was nothing more to me than a child support cheque. Which reminds me. I'd like to start paying support for her when I get out."

"She's not your responsibility anymore."

"She's still my daughter, Ted. I gave birth to her. That makes me responsible."

"I won't make you pay," I told her. "I won't even ask you to pay."

"I know you won't, but I'll pay as much as I'm able. I'll do everything through your lawyer. You won't even have to deal with me."

"I warn you, Connie, if this is some game. . ."

"No more games, Ted," she assured me. "I messed up. Money went to my head and it screwed up your life and it put Lindsay in the hospital. Most of all, though, it screwed up my life. I thought I could. . ."

"Two minutes," a female voice said. Probably the guard.

"Thank you," Connie said politely. "Look, Ted, just listen so I can say this. Money didn't make me happy, Ted. I thought it would give me everything I wanted, but it took everything away, including the only two things I ever really loved. When I look back now and see how hard you worked to try to change me back, I wish I had listened to you. I know it's gone, Ted. I know I'll never be able to get it back. I can only hope that I'm able to make up for it if you'll let me."

I took yet another deep breath. "You'll have to prove yourself first, Connie."

"I'm not the same person you divorced. You'll see."

I could hear Connie sighing deeply.

"I have to go now, Ted. Promise you won't forget to bring the pictures to the hearing?"

"I promise. I carry them with me all the time anyway."

"You'll see, Ted. You'll see that I'm a changed person. Maybe you might even be able to stop hating me."

"Maybe," I said quietly. "But don't hold your breath waiting."

"I have to go now, Ted. Take care of yourself."

"I will."

"And when you give Lindsay a hug, could you give her a little one for me as well?"

"Yes, I'll do that, but she won't know it's from you."

Connie was silent for a few very long moments. When she spoke, I could hear the tears and sadness in her voice. "I'm never going to see her again, am I?"

"I don't know, Connie."

She took a deep breath to gain her voice again. "I have to go now. Goodbye, Ted."

"Goodbye, Connie."

There was a soft click and the line went deadly silent. I hung up the phone and sat there on the bed, staring at the floor for a very long time.

To Be Continued
 
Prison changes everybody. While they're in prison.

Leopard's spots never change.

She may leave Ted and his family alone for a few months if/ when she gets out, but, I predict more trouble from her in the future.
 
Connie is a bitch and always will be. Ted made 2 mistakes. The first one was not hanging up the phone immediately. The second one was discussing his family--the twins and Brad with her. I hope he doesn't show pictures of the boys to her.:mad:
 
It's amazing how your past mistakes can come back to haunt you. The way I look at it once bitch always a bitch and I speak with experience on that subject. Been there, done that. Unexpected twist. Good show.
 
Neil excellent chapter. It made me think about someone I knew that went to prison. He is a changed man now, than he was before. So I believe that Connie is telling the truth, and she might stay that way.

The man I am talking about is my str8 roommate. We've know each other for almost 25 years now, and I have to say Prison changed him. It does happen. He's like my brother.

I'm glad for your friend... I really am...

Your friend isn't Connie.

Unless Neil plans a major plot twist or change of personality for her I see her always causing Ted some grief.

I agree with the other post, he should have hung up and should not have discussed Brad and the kids with her...
 
Wow. That was definitely not what I had exoected from the bitch, Neil. I look forward to more, but I hope this doesn't come back and bite Ted and Brad in the butt ( no pun intended here, guys)

Zac
 
Connie came to mind when I was reminded that you wanted to celebrate 100 chapters with something special. I figured The Bitch was something special. She'll be popping up from time to time over the little while at least. What's she up to? YGIAGAM.

A special thank you to the new readers who have discovered the story and have either left comments here or PMed or Emailed me. I hope you all continue to enjoy the story.
 
wow, Neil!!!!!!i've been reading "Watching Brad" from the beginning, and it's awesome!!!!!!!...very erotic in spots, without being pornographic.

And even though this is a work of fiction, the characters have so much emotional depth and 3-dimensionality, i feel like i know them...or would like to

of course, Brad seems almost too good to be true, but i like to believe there are really nice young men out there like him...as a matter of fact, i was just saying the other day (in another forum/thread about Jeremy Lory) that i really prefer guys who demonstate a deep and genuine humility, in that they either have no clue how hot they are, or if they ARE aware of it, they simply accept wiith quiet dignity, but would rather be admired and appreciated for their character, kindness, thoughtfulness, pleasing pesonality and inner beauty, rather than their physique or other physical attributes...to me, that's MUCH hotter than anything else.
 
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