Watching Brad

[caddymac]

At least Ted knows and has admitted he needs help from Brad. I can relate with this part. It is hard to ask for help when you are use to taking care of others.

 

[gmoney]

One more brilliant chapter, Neil. As someone already said, I know there will be some bumps in the road for Ted's healing, but I hope they're not too big. Thanks again.

Gary

 

[Fiorino]

Cant wait for the nextg chapter, great job Neal.

 

[gaygoth]

Wonderful as ever, Neil. You sure know how to tug a man's heart strings.

 

[botboy03]

Yay!!!!!!!! Tomorrow is Wednesday and we get another chapter. I can't wait!

Zac

 

[gsdx]

WATCHING BRAD
Part 108​

"Where did you park?" Brad asked as we exited the elevator into the lobby of the apartment building.

"I don't know," I told him honestly. "I don't remember anything about even driving here. The first thing I remember is Warren opening the door and me seeing him for the first time. The rest is a total blank."

"I guess we should check the visitor's parking lot first, then."

"Good place to start, I suppose," I said. "I drove here without knowing it. I guess I would park where I usually do without knowing it, too."

We found the car with no problems. It was right where I expected it to be. Out of habit, I reached into my pocket for my keys as I headed for the driver's side door. Brad jingled the keys he now held in his hand. "Oh, yeah," I said humbly. "Sorry. Habit."

As I circled the car to the passenger door, I noticed that Brad began to insert the key into the lock, stopped, then pulled the handle. The door opened. I'd forgot to lock it. He didn't react. He simply opened the door without saying a word, climbed in, and leaned across the seat to unlock and open the door for me. I climbed into the seat and, as I buckled my seatbelt, told him, "The QEW is your best bet."

"I know," Brad replied. "How do I get there?"

As Brad drove, I guided him through the streets of the city toward Lake Ontario. Before long, the QEW came into view, and then the on ramp. Brad knew his way from there, so I stopped giving him directions and began talking about everything that had happened to me over the past few days. We'd made our way through lower Toronto and were driving up the Don Valley Parkway, almost to the Four-Oh-One before I finished my rather lengthy tale.

"You have to be on your toes, Brad," I told him. "I can't seem to control my emotions. They change at the drop of a hat. One minute I'll be laughing. The next I'll be crying. And I go off at the least little thing. The crying isn't so bad, and I usually don't even know why I'm crying. It's the going ballistic that scares me. I get so angry so quickly, like I did with Jeremy the other night. I don't even need a reason. It just happens."

"What do I do when you do?"

"Stop me," I explained. "Grab me and make me realize what's happening. Yell at me if you have to. Make me listen. That usually works."

"And if it doesn't?"

I looked at him to make sure I had his attention and he glanced briefly at me. "Do whatever you have to do to stop me. Don't let me hurt anyone."

"I don't think you'd ever hit anyone, Ted," he said.

"I don't need to hit them to hurt them," I reminded him. "Words can cause just as much pain."

Brad nodded.

I sighed deeply and leaned my head against the headrest. I suddenly felt so tired again after coming down from the emotions of leaving Warren behind. Before I knew it, I was asleep.

* * * * *

A hand was shaking my shoulder gently and a voice was saying to me, "Ted, we're home."

My eyes came open. Ahead of me, beyond the windshield of my car, I could see my van and the garage doors. I didn't see Dad's car. To the right was the rest of my house. I looked at Brad. He was twisted around on the seat to face me. "I'm sorry," I apologized. "Didn't mean to fall asleep on you."

"That's okay," he said. He hadn't removed his hand from my shoulder. "How are you feeling?"

I looked back at the front door. On the other side of that door was my life, waiting for me - challenging me to face it. "Scared," was my reply. "What's everyone going to think of me?"

I expected an answer, but I didn't get one. Instead, Brad squeezed my shoulder comfortingly and said, "Come on, let's go home."

His hand went away from me and I heard the door opening and the car moving about as Brad got out, but I didn't budge. I sat there, staring at the door, fearing it immensely. I stared as the car door closed behind me and I continued staring until Brad's body blocked my view. The passenger door opened and Brad reached inside, offering his hand as he stooped over to look at me. I took his hand and he grasped mine firmly. "Come on. It will be okay, Ted. I promise."

I allowed Brad to help me out of the car. He closed the car door behind us and he held my hand all the way to the front step. "Wait." I said. "Stop."

Brad froze in position beside me. I knew he was looking at me as I closed my eyes. Warren's words came back to me and I slowly breathed deeply through my nose, held the breath for a short time, then let it blow slowly out of my mouth. I repeated that three times more and a feeling of serenity swept through me. That simple little exercise had an enormously-calming effect. I was prepared to deal with whatever would face me inside my home.

I opened my eyes and glanced toward Brad. He was standing there, watching me and waiting patiently. "Okay," I said. "I'm ready."

"What was that?" he asked with genuine interest.

"An exercise Warren taught me today. It helps to relax me." I leaned forward and kissed him for the first time since I had kissed him the previous morning. "Please, Brad," I implored him, "don't let me hurt anyone."

"I won't." He kissed me back.

Brad opened the storm door and I was reaching for the knob of the inside door when it suddenly opened. Terry stood there, smiling and greeting me. "Hi, Mr. Dee," she said cheerily. "Welcome home."

She stepped back, allowing me to enter. I craned my neck to look into the livingroom. "Where are the twins?"

"They're still asleep."

I glanced at my watch as Brad stepped in behind me. "They're usually up from their naps by now, aren't they?"

"Well," she explained, "they've been waiting all day for you to come home and they didn't want to so to sleep, but they started nodding off just over a half hour ago and I took them to bed."

I went straight to the twins' bedroom as Terry closed the door. Brad followed me in. I stood at the end of the bed, looking down at my sleeping sons. Brad put his arm around my waist and pulled me close to him.

We were silent for a long time before I spoke. "Look at them, Brad. They look so innocent and helpless. They depend on me for so much and I failed them. How could I have yelled at them the way I did?"

"You can't blame yourself, Pops," Brad said gently.

My emotions overwhelmed me once more so suddenly that I didn't have the time to do anything about them. One moment I was standing there talking to Brad and the next moment I was crying again. Brad took it all in stride, holding me tighter around my waist and grabbing my forearm in his hand. He turned me around and led me out of the room and down the hall toward our bedroom. I vaguely remember seeing a concerned Terry standing in the kitchen doorway as we passed.

Inside the bedroom, Brad guided me to the bed and sat down, bringing me down to sit beside him. He pulled me into his chest and let me cry. I felt so stupid, but I couldn't help it. My emotions had control of me at the moment. Fortunately, all I was doing was humiliating myself by crying and not hurting someone by yelling at them.

Warren suddenly popped into my mind once more and I could see him sitting in the kitchen of his apartment, drinking that horrendous herbal tea and recounting the night he and I had gone streaking and were attacked by a swarm of those nasty June bugs, and I started to laugh out loud. I could see him as if it were yesterday, standing there, naked in the middle of the road, his arms flailing wildly and his hands swatting his head to shoo away the irritating flying pests which had a tendency to stick in your hair if they happened to land there.

This time, Brad was taken aback and leaned away from me to see if I was, indeed, alright. "Ted?" he asked hesitantly.

I looked up at him and his handsome, young face replaced the image of Warren in my mind. My laughter slowly died. I looked away from him, wiping away the tears from my eyes with the backs of my hands. "I'm sorry, Brad. This is what you're up against. It happens and I don't have any control over it. I can feel myself getting angry and leave, but sometimes I just start laughing or crying for no apparent reason, and I don't know when it's going to happen."

"We'll figure it out, Pops." He gave me a reassuring cuddle as I wiped my eyes and cheeks once more, and then he said quietly, "Uh, Ted."

I glanced at him and his eyes flicked to toward the door. I followed his gaze. Lindsay was standing there, her backpack hanging loosely in her hand. She was panting heavily. "I saw your car in the driveway, Daddy," she said from where she stood. "I ran the rest of the way home."

I spun sideways to face her better and held out my arms. "Come here, Sweetheart."

She dropped her backpack onto the floor and ran across the room into my arms. I picked her up and set her in my lap, hugging her as Brad stood up. "I'll go get you a mug of coffee," he said.

Warren's voice sounded in my mind once more. "Bill said you should cut down on your coffee," he'd told me. I had been so angry when he told me that, but I knew he was right. I drank too much coffee for my own good, but I'd only had one coffee so far that day. Having one in the morning, afternoon, and evening would certainly be cutting down.

I looked up at him. "Thanks, Brad," I replied. "But just one. Don't let me have another one until tonight. I think I'm going to cut back on my caffeine for awhile."

He nodded and continued on out the door, heading down the hall toward the kitchen.

I turned my attention to my daughter. "Are you okay, Sweetheart?" I asked. She was snuggling herself against my chest, her arms wrapped tightly around me.

"No-one will tell us what's wrong, Daddy. Brad told us you were visiting Uncle Warren, but you don't do that when I'm in school. What's wrong, Daddy?"

I lifted her up and turned her slightly so she could straddle my legs. I set her down again, facing me, and gently held onto her arms. Her hands grasped my forearms. "Do you know what stress is, Sweetheart?"

"I think so," was her response.

"Okay," I said as I tried to think of something to which she could relate. "Okay," I repeated when I thought of it. "Remember when you were so worried about your slumber party? You had trouble going to sleep at night and you were so nervous during the day. You wanted to make sure everything was perfect. Remember?"

She nodded.

"That's called stress. Now, do you remember what happened after the party began and you started having so much fun with your friends?"

"Yes," she answered. "It made me feel all warm and fuzzy and happy inside. I wasn't worried anymore."

"Well, that's what's happening to me right now. I'm worried about your Uncle Warren's operation and I'm worried about your Grandparent's house and I'm worried about the wedding. I'm worried about your Mother getting out of prison, but, most of all, I'm worried about taking care of you and your brothers. That is causing a lot of stress for me and it's making me feel sick. Do you understand?"

"Like when my tummy felt sick before my party?" she asked.

"Yes, like that," I replied, "but a lot worse. When grown-ups get too much stress, they can't think clearly and things happen. Like with me lately. I have too much stress right now and I get angry when I shouldn't and I cry when there's nothing to cry about. And I do stupid things that I shouldn't do."

"Will you get better when the stress is gone?"

"I'm sure I will, Sweetheart. I'm going to see my doctor tomorrow morning and he's going to tell me what to do so I can get better faster."

"Can I help?"

"You sure can," I told her. "You can give me a great big hug right now."

She did, and she threw in a loud, smacking-wet kiss to boot. I rested my forehead against hers. "Mmmm. Just what I needed to make me feel better."

Brad returned then and set a steaming mug of coffee on the bedside table for me. "Your parents are home now," he told me. "Do you want to talk to them?"

I sighed deeply. "Not right now." I turned once more to my daughter. "Sweetheart, would you go out and tell Grandma that I'm going to rest here for awhile? And then help her take care of your brothers when they wake up."

"Okay, Daddy."

I gave her another kiss, then lifted her off my lap and set her on the floor. She ran out, grabbing her backpack on the way and tossing it onto the floor in her bedroom across the hall before running toward the livingroom.

"Anything else you want before I go back to studying?" Brad asked.

"No. I think I'm just going to shag out here and rest and enjoy my coffee and try not to think too much."

Brad kissed me on the cheek. "I'll be right here if you need me."

"Thanks."

He stood up and went to the desk to begin his studying. I picked up the coffee mug, took a cautious sip, and let its warmth flow through me from the inside out. I set the mug back onto the table and kicked off my shoes. I piled up three pillows against the headboard, swung my legs onto the bed, and settled back into them, losing myself in their soothing, cushy softness.

The next thing I knew, I was riding my bicycle along the path in Bowmanville - the same one we'd ridden on not too long ago. My sons were with me, each riding his own bike on either side of me. We were alone, riding along and enjoying the warm, Summer-afternoon sunshine and all the beautiful nature around us. There was only the three of us. I don't know where Brad and Lindsay were. They hadn't come with us.

We followed the little creek for awhile until we came upon the spot where we had stopped last time. We stopped again and climbed off our bikes, laying them on the grass and walking to the bank of the creek. "Not too close," I warned the boys. I stood there, right behind them, as they picked up pebbles from the ground and tossed them into the pooled water gathered in the deep bend of the creek.

We sat down on the grass and took off our shoes and socks. The boys wore shorts. I wore long pants, which I rolled up to my knees. Taking the boys by the hand, we followed the bank around the bend in the creek until we came to shallower water and stepped into the creek. The water felt cool, but the boys didn't seem to mind. They were too busy laughing and giggling as we bent down to examine all the neat things we could find there. Justin caught a baby crayfish and held it up proudly on the palm of his hand as it crawled around. Jeremy found a few snail shells which he stuffed into his pocket after he'd determined that they were empty.

The stones were bigger in the creek bed and the twins spent many fun minuted grabbing them up and sending them into mini orbits for some serious splashdowns.

It was a fun ‘father and sons' time. Later, we sat on the grass overlooking the water. Justin sat to my right, Jeremy to my left. I reached behind them and put my arms over their shoulders, hugging them to my sides.

"Dad," Justin suddenly said in his young, manly voice, "I've met someone."

I looked over at him, still amazed that he and his brother had turned into such handsome young men. They sat there beside me, dressed only in their matching sky-blue Spandex biker shorts. Their jerseys lay on the grass beside them. They still liked to dress the same even at their age and. As I had expected they would, they had grown up short. When we were standing, the tops of their heads barely reached my chin. They had filled out well, though. Their powerful arms, backs and chests were well-formed and naturally muscular. A line of sandy-coloured hair spread upward from their belly buttons to their upper chest, spreading out slightly over their rounded pecs. Their fuzz-covered bellies were slightly rounded, but solid.

Their hair had darkened over the years, and their heavy, even darker eyebrows gave their faces a more masculine look which only added to their youthful appearance. Their arms and their legs were covered in a soft matt of shiny, light hair which sparkled in the sunlight.

"Did you hear me, Dad?" Justin asked. "I've met someone." The scar on his lip was barely noticeable anymore.

"I heard," I said. "Is it a man or a woman?"

"It's a man, Dad."

"So, you've made a decision."

"I think so."

"Don't think, Son," I told him. "Be certain. Don't waste half your life living it the wrong way."

"I'm sure then," he said seriously. "I've tried both. I like being with men more."

I turned to my other son. "What about you, Jere?"

"I'm not sure yet, Dad, but I don't think so."

"Are you seeing anyone?"

Jeremy dropped his head, his chin resting against his upper chest and a shy, somewhat embarrassed grin spreading across his face. "Yeah. She always sits beside me in class. I think she likes me a lot."

"Do you like her?"

He looked up at me, the grin changing to a simple smile. "Yeah, I do. We've been to the movies a few times and we've gone out for dinner once. We haven't had sex yet, but neither of us are in any hurry. We want to be sure we really like each other first."

That was my Jere. He was identical to Justin only in appearance. Personality-wise, he was as different as different could be - always cautious and careful, whereas Justin was more reckless and worldly and fun-loving. I had no concerns about Jere. I knew he'd take care of himself and take all the necessary precautions. Justin, on the other hand, was more apt to take chances, but, from the time I'd had ‘the talk' with both of them, I had impressed upon them the need to use condoms. Justin said he always used them, but I could never be absolutely certain. Still, I trusted him to do what was best. I loved both of them dearly. With Lindsay married now and living in Ottawa, the mother of my two beautiful grandchildren, Justin and Jere were all that I had left. Except for Brad, of course. He'd be with me always.

"That's good," I told my son. "And what do you think about your brother being gay?"

Jeremy shrugged. "He's my brother. If Derrick makes him happy, then I'm happy, too. I don't care if he's gay or not. He's still my brother. Besides, Derrick's pretty cool for an older guy."

I spun around to face Justin again. "Older?"

"He's only thirty-two, Dad."

"And you're only nineteen!" I reminded him. "Isn't he a little old for you?"

"I'm as old as Brad was when you met him."

"And you were thirty-two, Dad," Jeremy added.

"That's different, Jere," I said angrily. "Justin is my son."

"And you're Oupa's son, Dad," Justin reminded me. "Grandma and Grandpa accepted you and Brad, and so did Ouma and Oupa. I'm sure if Oupa was still alive he'd be happy for me. Why is it so different for me and Derrick?"

"You're my son, Justin. I only want what's best for you."

"But I'm the one who has to decide that, Dad. Not you." His eyes never wavered from mine. He refused to back down. "I love you, Dad, and I always will, but I'm a man now. I have to make my own decisions. I have to do what's right for me, and Derrick is right for me. I want you to be happy for me."

As I stared into his beautiful eyes, I felt a hand on my shoulder, shaking me lightly. I could hear Mom's voice. "Teddy," she said. "Wake up, Dear."

I opened my eyes. I was lying in my bed. Justin and Jeremy were nestled against me and waking up after their extended nap. Somehow, they had come into my bedroom, climbed into bed with me, and curled up on me and went back to sleep without waking me up.

I looked from one tiny, beautiful face to the other, then kissed both of them before looking up at Mom as she stood beside my bed. Brad stood behind her and to one side.

"Dinner is ready, Dear."

"Okay, Mom," I said. "Thanks."

She turned to leave and Brad stepped forward, holding out his hands for Jeremy, who jumped up and went to him. "Sorry, Pops," Brad said, grinning his chipped-tooth grin. "I went to the bathroom and, when I came back in, they were already using you as a Sealy."

"Brad," I said seriously, "please don't laugh. Am I really awake or is this a dream?"

"You're awake, Ted," he said. "You were asleep a minute ago." As if in proof, he pinched my arm, causing me to wince. It certainly felt real.

Justin wrapped his arms around my neck as I sat up. I glanced at my coffee mug, still full except for that single sip I'd taken. I stuck my finger in it. It was cold. "Well, that's one way to cut back on coffee," I said as I shook my head. I licked the cold coffee from my finger. "I was really looking forward to it, too."

"You can have an extra one tonight," Brad suggested.

"No," I replied. "I'll just have one like I said I would." I looked at my son, suddenly fifteen years younger than he had been a few moments ago. "Are you hungry, Justin?"

Justin smiled and nodded vigorously. "Yup," he said.

I looked toward my other son. "How about you, Jere. You hungry, too?"

"My name's Jeremy, Daddy." He looked decidedly confused.

"I know," I said quickly. "I thought you might like to be called ‘Jere'."

He shook his head ‘no'. "That's not my name. I don't like it."

"Okay. I won't call you that, then. So, how about you, Jeremy. You hungry, too?"

This time he nodded his head ‘yes'.

"Okay, then. Let's go eat."

I tried not to think too much about the dream. I certainly wouldn't mention it to anyone until I figured out what it meant - if it meant anything at all.

To Be Continued​

 

[sheep]

Neil,
Does this mean you will still be writing this story for another 15 years? I hope so!

 

[Just4fun2]

Hi Neil! The last few chapters have been wonderful! I don't think I have cried so much in years! I just want to hug Ted and make everything OK.

I hope your doing OK, Also? Please keep up the good work?

Have a GREAT day,

Chris




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[botboy03]

I loved the dream sequence, Neil. That was another great chapter. Thanks again for writing this story. You don't kinow how hooked I am on it. But I love it!!!!!!!

Zac

 

[Fiorino]

Another great chapter, can't wait for the next, I know it will work out for all of them, I'm an extreme optimous being a true Aires. Keep up the great writing Neal, thanks for sharing it with all of us.
Fiorino

 

[dave_63]

Neil,
Does this mean you will still be writing this story for another 15 years? I hope so!

I hope so too. Another great chapter, Neil.

It brought me to once again. Amazing story!

 

[Teebzorz]

i would gladly give up tuesdays thursdays saturdays and sundays to be able to read this story more often, its just.. awsome

 

[gsdx]

Thanks yet again for all your wonderful comments, especially to those of you who are just now finding the story. Your persistance in reading so quickly through all those chapters still astounds me.

I'd like to make a comment or two about the latest chapters.

The 'Porch' and the 'Streaking/June Bug' incident - These actually happened to me and my own best friend many years ago. The circumstances surrounding the porch climb were different, and we were sneaking in for different reasons, but the climb itself actually happened that way. I simply replaced myself with Ted and my friend with Warren. Phil and I had done a lot of stupid things, but the porch climb won hands-down for being the stupidest and funniest. We still talk about it 30 years later. The swarming June bugs were just plain ickky!! (Anyone who has been buzzed by June bugs knows what I am talking about.)

The 'Dream Sequence' - I had no idea that was going to happen, and I had no idea the twins were going to grow up when they were sitting beside Ted. Sorry to say that I don't expect to still be writing this story 15 years from now, but the twins seem to have become extremely popular and I suddenly wanted you to see them the way I see them as young men.

Of course, it's just a dream, so, in the off chance that I'm still around and still writing 15 years from now, their actual future and their dream future will probably be completely different.

 

[upyrkilt469]

Neil, again I don't know what can be said that hasn't already been said. I love the story and look forward to more. Keep them coming. Vic.

 

[gmoney]

Of course, it's just a dream, so, in the off chance that I'm still around and still writing 15 years from now, their actual future and their dream future will probably be completely different.

Well, I for one am going to be the optomist, and say you will still be around and writing this. And I hope to still be reading this!

I think we've all fantasized about the future and what we see now is not even close to what we thought years ago. This being your story, you have complete control over that, and I know you will make it good.

Thanks once more for helping me set aside my daily stresses and imersing myself in the wonderful world you have created. I will be eternally greatful!

Gary

 

[botboy03]

Well I am happy tomorrow is Friday, but not because its almost the weekend, but because we'll get another installment on the story. You know, it doesn't have to take 15 years to see the twins grow up, since we have had over a year of time in less than 6 months time. Please, PLEASE, continue this that long.

Zac

 

[gsdx]

it doesn't have to take 15 years to see the twins grow up, since we have had over a year of time in less than 6 months time.

Not quite. Ted moved into the house early in July of 2005. It is now the last day of May, 2006.

 

[botboy03]

Oh ok. It seemed longer than that.

Zac

 

[gsdx]

WATCHING BRAD
Part 109​

Don't think of purple elephants with yellow polka dots.

If you're thinking of purple elephants with yellow polka dots, you're doing what virtually everyone who is also reading this is doing. As soon as you're told not to think of something, you think of it. That's what happened to me when I told myself not to think of the dream.

We were all sitting around the table eating the delicious dinner Mom had cooked for us. As usual, I sat at the head of the table. The twins sat on either side of me. As I looked at them, the images from the dream came easily into my mind and I played the last section of the dream over and over again in my memory recorder, hitting the imaginary ‘rewind' button each time it ended. In my mind, my sons were nineteen years old.

The fact that Justin had told me he was gay hadn't bothered me. The fact that he had told me that he was in love with an older man did. I simply couldn't understand how something like that could happen. Yet, it had happened to me. How could I possibly have condemned him for it? Our positions had been reversed, of course. He had taken Brad's place and Derrick had taken mine, but I wasn't able to put myself in Derrick's place. I couldn't imagine allowing myself to fall in love with a nineteen-year-old man. Yet, I had done so, and I had used the same arguments against Justin which had been presented to me.

I had fallen in love with nineteen-year-old Bradley Nelson Hayes, and he had fallen in love with me. It felt so right. We were to be married. So, why did it bother me so much when the same thing happened to my son?

"You are thinking too much, my Sonskyn," Dad said.

I looked up at him, becoming aware that I had been sitting there twirling the mashed potatoes on my plate with my fork. I glanced quickly around the table. Everyone was looking at me. They had almost finished eating and I had barely touched my own meal.

"You must eat, Teddy," Mom said.

"I know," I sighed. "It's hard keeping my mind away from other things."

"I'll feed you, Daddy," Justin suggested. He was already rising to his feet in his chair, ready to step into my lap.

I suddenly wanted to scream. I felt as if everyone was treating me like a child. Even my own four-year-old son. What next? A highchair and a bib? I was furious and ready to explode. And I knew it. So did everyone else. Even Justin was clambering back into his chair away from me. Brad was on his feet and heading for me.

"Oh, God," I said. "Oh, God! It's happening, isn't it?"

Brad caught my arm and pulled me to my feet, guiding me quickly out of the kitchen and to our bedroom. By the time we got there, I was crying again. Brad pushed the door closed and I collapsed into his arms. "Oh, God, Brad," I cried. "It's so hard to keep control."

"If you need to hit someone, hit me," he said.

"He will hit no-one," a voice said from the doorway. Dad was standing there, closing the door when I looked up. My crying fit ended as quickly as it had started and I wiped away the tears from my eyes. I didn't know how I should feel at that moment, so I felt nothing.

Dad approached. "Sit down."

"Dad, I can. . ."

"I said, sit down." His voice was firm and unshakable.

Brad led me to the bed and we sat down, his arm still around my waist. Dad sat beside me and put one hand on my shoulder and the other on my thigh. "Your children are terrified, Son," he said calmly. "Your mother is trying to soothe them." He looked at Brad. "Would you assist her, please? I wish to speak with my son alone."

Brad immediately stood up and left the room.

"I'm losing control, Dad," I told him. "I can't trust myself even to be around my kids."

Dad said nothing. He simply sat there with his hand on my shoulder and my leg.

"I'm scared, Dad."

Dad heaved a sigh before responding. "You are frightened only because you do not know what is to become of you. Tomorrow morning, when you speak with your physician, you will know."

"What if I don't like what he has to tell me?"

"What if you do?" Dad rubbed my thigh and then patted it. "You have never been pessimistic, Theodore. You have always been the most optimistic person I have known. This is a minor set-back. Too many things are happening to you and you are not able to deal with them. That is what you are thinking, is it not?"

"Yes," I said.

"You are wrong, Theodore. There is only one."

That surprised me. "Oh, come off it, Dad," I said, my voice teetering on the edge of anger. "There's the wedding and the parole hearing and the kids and you and Mom. There's too much!"

Dad smiled slightly. "You have avoided mentioning the only one which, truly, you cannot control. That is the possible death of Warren Michaels. You cannot control it, nor are you able to face the possibility that Warren may die."

I pulled away from Dad, sliding out from beneath his hands and moving closer to the head of the bed. "That's stupid, Dad," I told him. "There isn't anything I can do about that."

"And that is precisely why you are so angry. You are not able to do anything to keep him alive. Why did you go to see him yesterday?"

"To ask him for help," I said.

"No, Son," Dad said quietly. "You had already helped yourself by ringing up your physician. You did not require Warren's help."

"Then why did I go?" I challenged him.

"To see him one last time."

I was dumbfounded. Dad's response made no sense to me and my confusion reflected in my face. He expanded his thoughts.

"You have convinced yourself that Warren will die in this surgery and you are helpless to intervene. What is more important, though, is the fact that you hold yourself responsible for his death."

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do, Son. Recall the day we moved here. We stopped to see Warren and Bill and to dine with them. You joined Warren on the balcony and you convinced him to have the surgery when he wished not to have it. Now, you feel that you have resigned him to his fate, and that frightens you more than anything else."

I shook my head as I stared at the floor. "No, Dad, you're wrong." But it sounded so right. Warren's life was the only thing I could not guarantee. I could not guarantee any of my other problems, but I did have some control over their outcomes. I had, indeed, taken responsibility for Warren's life simply by convincing him to have the operation. If he died. . .

"Theodore," Dad said quietly. I looked up at him. He held his arms out to me. "Come."

I moved back and he wrapped me in his arms once more. I rested my head on his shoulder.

"Listen to me, my Sonskyn. We all love Warren. He is as a son to us. His loss would be as devastating to us is if it were you. But, in going to him yesterday to ask him for help, you have given him a need to survive. He must survive for your sake. Doctors cannot calculate human determination in percentages. Do not dwell upon the fact that you may have condemned him to death, Son. Celebrate in the fact that you have given him the best possible reason to live."

I sat up straight, turning my head to look at my Dad. "Do you really think it's that simple?"

"No, I do not," he replied. "It is nothing more than my opinion." He smiled at me then. "But it is a good opinion, is it not?"

Dad's smile was infectious and I found myself smiling back at him. "Yes, it is, Dad. Now, what do I do to get through all this?"

"You will do what must be done. Tonight we will manage. Tomorrow, we will do as your physician directs."

I hugged Dad. "I'm really glad you're here."

"As are we, Son," he smiled as he hugged me back.

* * * * *

Everyone was walking on egg shells. At least, that's the way it seemed to me. Mom had kept my dinner warm for me and I returned to the kitchen to finish it (at Dad's insistence). The twins followed me into the kitchen from the livingroom. Mom tried to send them back to watch television, but I assured her it was alright for them to stay. They climbed into their chairs on either side of me, kneeling there and leaning against the table on their forearms which they crossed in front of them. Identical bookends.

"We'll stay here in case you need help, Daddy," Justin said.

"Is that okay?" Jeremy added hopefully.

I smiled at them and said, "Sure."

Mom set the plate in front of me, along with a steaming cup of tea. Brad took his seat beside Jeremy, sipping his own tea. "You should really be studying."

His reply was, "Yes, I should, but I'm not."

Dad joined us with his own tea, sitting at his place at the opposite end of the table from me. "I shall remain here, Bradley, if you wish to study."

Brad simply shook his head ‘no'. He was keeping his promise to watch over me, even at the expense of his exam.

Mom joined Lindsay in the livingroom, but only after she had served up a large slice of coconut cream pie and set it on the table in front of me.

Dad made idle conversation about the new house as I ate, updating the work being done and how quickly it was progressing.

"You already told us, Oupa," Justin mentioned.

"Yes, I did, my Sonskyn," Dad said pleasantly, "but not everyone heard it the first time."

Justin simply shrugged his shoulders. He clearly didn't understand, but he accepted it. He glanced at the piece of pie in front of us with hungry eyes before turning his attention to me once more.

I ate my dinner, surprised that I was as hungry as I really was, and, whilst eating, I considered Dad's earlier words to me. Could it be that Warren was the sole cause of my problems? It made sense. I had resigned him to his fate. I had made the decision for him to have the operation, not him. It was he who ultimately said he would, of course, but only upon my insistence. If anything happened to him, it would all be on my shoulders. It was only the culmination of all the other things which had caused my near-breakdown. It all made sense, and I prayed that Dad was right about it.

But what would happen to me if Warren died because of my selfish recommendations? How would I deal with it? I loved Warren dearly, and I wanted him around me for a long, long time. Would I be able to handle his death or would it send me over the edge?

"Doctors cannot calculate human determination in percentages," Dad said.

I looked up at him. He was talking about the cork floors and stopped speaking as I caught his eye. "Is there a problem, Son?" he asked. His concern for me was more than obvious.

I shook my head. "No," I replied. "I thought you said something else, that's all."

He nodded, but his attention remained on me as I continued eating. Dad was a soft-spoken man, his voice soft and light, almost lilting, dancing on the air like a minuet, but his words often held the power of a Wagnerian opera.

He was right, of course. Doctors could use only past statistics and performances along with Warren's current health and come up with a survival rate, but there was no way they could factor in his mental health. A healthy body can die simply because an unhealthy mind believes it will. Warren's body may be only eighty percent healthy, but his mind was well beyond one hundred percent. I had witnessed that myself earlier that day. Warren was determined not only to attend my wedding, but he was determined to stand beside me. He may start out in a wheelchair, but he was determined to be on his feet when it was necessary for him to do so. Such determination can keep a dying body alive.

I was so intent in my thoughts that I hadn't even realized I had finished eating my dinner until Justin said to me, "Daddy, are you gonna eat your pie now?"

I glanced at the pie and then at my son. "I think so," I told him.

"It's real big," he said as he looked at it. His head started to shake back and forth. "You can't eat it all by yourself."

Whatever else was going on in my mind, I could tell when my son was begging me to share my dessert with him. Justin looked up at me and I smiled at him. "I don't think I can, either. Think you and your brother can help me?"

Two little blond-haired heads nodded while their beautiful little faces broke out into enormous smiles of eager anticipation. I set my dinner plate aside and pulled the coconut cream pie forward. Justin got the first bite, then Jeremy, and then myself. Of course, mine came from the back where all the boring pastry was. The boys didn't seen to mind that I was eating all the yucky parts. Such are the sacrifices one must make for the sake of his children. Between the three of us, we finished the pie.

Brad cleared the table for me as the boys climbed into my arms, wrapping their own arms around my neck and planting happy and thankful kisses on my cheeks. I wasn't exactly certain if it was for me being me or for the fact that I had given them most of my dessert. It didn't really matter. I enjoyed their hugs and kisses.

The rest of the evening went quietly. My family continued to tiptoe around, being careful not to do anything to upset me. I felt so guilty that they were altering their entire lives on my account. Dad insisted on giving the twins their baths, leaving me to sprawl out on the sofa with my feet propped up on the coffee table. Mom wouldn't even let me get up to pour myself a cup of tea. She did it. Brad stayed with me, refusing to go study.

"Don't worry," he assured me. "I'll pass it. I might not ace it, but I'll pass it."

The twins finished their baths, returning to the livingroom in their pyjamas. Jeremy climbed into Brad's lap but Justin was more hesitant to climb into mine until I held out my arms to him. His happy smile was enough to send warm snuggles deep into my heart. When he was in place on my lap, I warmed him with my arms and an extra-snuggly embrace.

Lindsay curled up beside me when she finished her bath and, together as a family, we watched our usual game shows on television before it was time for the twins to go to bed. I insisted on taking them, and I insisted on doing it alone. I carried them into their room and sat with them on the side of their bed cuddling them for a long time as I kissed their hair and told them how much I loved them.

"We love you, too, Daddy," Justin said.

"We'll help you eat your pie tomorrow," Jeremy added, "if it's too big for you to eat by yourself."

I chuckled. "Thank you, Jeremy. Now, did you remember to brush your teeth for Oupa?"

Both boys opened their lips wide to show me their teeth. "Excellent," I said proudly. "Now, time for sugar."

Their lips closed and Justin's lips puckered up for his last kiss of the night. My own puckered lips found his. "Mmmmmwah!" Jeremy's was just as energetic and just as sweet. "Now, into bed with you."

They climbed out of my lap and under their sheets. I knelt on one knee on their bed and smoothed their hair and gave them one more kiss on the forehead as I always did. "Goodnight, my Sonskyns."

"Nitey-nite, Daddy," they said as one.

"I'll see you in the morning."

They curled up into their usual positions, their foreheads touching, and closed their eyes. I stepped off their bed and went to their door, turning out the overhead light as I stood there. I looked at them for a few long moments before returning to the sofa.

At nine, I took Lindsay to bed, tucked her in, and sat with her.

"Daddy?" she said quietly. "Will the doctor make you better tomorrow?"

"I don't think so, Sweetheart. First he has to find out what's wrong with me before he can fix it."

"What if he can't make you better?"

"Don't you worry about that. The doctor will find a way to make me better."

I could tell by the look on her face that she wasn't convinced. I lay down on the bed beside her and she moved a bit to make room for me. I brushed her hair aside and kissed her forehead, then settled my head on a corner of her pillow.

"Have I ever lied to you?" Lindsay shook her head ‘no'. "And I'm not lying to you now. Remember our little talk about stress?" At her nod, I continued. "That's all it is, Sweetheart. I have a lot of things I'm worried about. The doctor will help me get over my stress and I'll be all better."

"Do you promise?"

"Yes, I do. It might take a few weeks, but I'll get better." I paused a moment, letting her absorb what I had told her. "I'm going to need your help, though. I'm going to need you to help Grandma look after your brothers for me. Can you do that?"

Lindsay nodded once more, then curled up against me, resting her head on my shoulder as I rolled onto my back. Her arm fell casually over my chest.

"Goodnight, Sweetheart," I said. "I love you."

"I love you, too, Daddy."

I stayed with her until she was asleep before sliding out from under her. I paused at the door before turning out her light. It was then that I hoped I hadn't made a promise I couldn't keep. I put it out of my mind as I flipped the switch, plunging her room into darkness. I whispered ‘goodnight' to her once more, pulled the door closed, and went to the livingroom to talk to Mom.

"I need you to do a big favour for me," I said to her.

"Anything, Dear," she replied as she leaned forward, giving me all her attention.

"I need to get Lindsay thinking about something other than me."

"I agree," Dad interjected.

"The twins' birthday is coming up in a month," I continued. "I was wondering if you and Bernice would help Lindsay plan a party for them."

"She planned Ted's party with me," Brad said, "and she had a ball doing it."

"It would certainly keep her preoccupied," Dad said, "and less concerned about you."

"I'd be happy to do that, Teddy," Mom said, smiling. "We shall plan a wonderful party for them."

"And I would be more than happy to pay for it," Dad added.

"I'll help, Dad."

Dad shook his head, but he was still smiling. "Thank you, Son, but ‘no'. We have never had the opportunity to have a real party for any of our grandchildren. That little party we held for Lindsay when she turned five can hardly be considered a birthday party. We are here now and we can do things properly. We would like to do this."

I looked from Dad to Mom, who was smiling her eagerness, then nodded. "Okay."

We talked briefly then about the plans for tomorrow morning. Dad would be going to the new house, but Mom would be going to the doctor's office with me and Brad. I tried to talk Brad into staying home to study, but he'd have no part of it. He would go to the doctor with us and bring me home afterward. He would still have time for some last-minute cramming before heading off to Toronto at noon. Mom would be going only because she felt she needed to be there.

I kissed them ‘goodnight' and Brad told them that he would lock up the house before he went to bed. We left Mom and Dad to watch television and to drink their tea and we went to our room. I undressed for bed as Brad sat down at the desk to study.

I tried reading, but soon gave up on it and lay back in the pillows and thought about Warren. I thought only good, happy thoughts, though. I remembered all the good, happy times we'd had together. I didn't think at all about my doctor's appointment in the morning.

Brad finally closed his books at midnight, came over to kiss me, then said he was going to lock up the house and asked if I wanted anything. He left after I told him ‘no' and returned about five minutes later after using the bathroom. He undressed quickly, leaving his underwear on - as had I - turned out the lights, and climbed into bed beside me.

I could tell he was nervous and unsure what he should do, or how cozy he should get, but I set his mind at ease when I curled up against him and used his shoulder as my pillow. "I love you, Brad," I whispered into the dark.

"I love you, too."

I tilted my head up to kiss him, then settled back onto his shoulder. His arm hugged me to him, holding me safely against him, and I fell asleep that way.

To Be Continued​

 

[botboy03]

Thanks for another great chapter Neil!!!

Zac