Watching Brad

[smile86]

siiiiiiiiiiiigh

if he knows brad so intimately, how can his judgement be so bad :-( poor jeremy

 

[hungbuzz]

ted is being a real arsehole!!!!!!!!!!
i thought brad was going to punch his lights out when he tried using jeremy to blackmail him to come home!!!!

 

[phoenix72]

Ted is being a major league asshole right now and we're finally seeing his true colors start to show through. The fact that he used the kids to get Brad to do what he wanted only signifies how troubled he is right now. He needs help before he loses one of the most important things...for good.

 

[wyndhampaul]

Please Neil, show us how to deal with this all too common male macho problem. This is the cause of so many relationship breakdowns.

 

[caddymac]

"It was a rather difficult weekend from the moment Brad climbed into his truck and drove away. I was sad to see him go, of course, but he'd made his decision and I just had to wait for him to realise how silly he was being and to come back home."
When I read this I about blew my top! Okay, I did. I sure would like to give Ted a piece of my mind right now.
What is worse it that I see this more in relationships and people wonder why they don't work. There is a give and take from both sides.
I am sorry but I am not seeing this from Ted's side. I am with Brad on this one.
Thank you Neil. You sure have us going with this major event!!!! Great JOB!

 

[dougmc]

You're killing me here, please get the next chapter posted so we have some idea what's happening.

 

[gsdx]

WATCHING BRAD
Part 192​

At the time, I had been baffled by Brad's defiance and leaving the house in order to take the job despite my objections. I simply could not understand why he would do that, especially when he knew how difficult it would be for Jeremy. Later, I had been baffled by his reaction in the restaurant when I told him about how Jeremy was taking his absence. I certainly hadn't expected him to just get up and leave me there alone. To add insult to injury, I also hadn't expected that he would pay for meals we both had ordered but neither of us had eaten. I had never dealt with the likes of Bradley Nelson Hayes before. Fortunately, I had been able to cancel Brad's food order before it was prepared when the waiter returned with the two beers we had ordered. He left them both on the table at my request and I sat there alone, sipping at them in my solitude as I ate my supper and contemplated my next plan of action.

At that time, I held Brad responsible for what was happening to my family. I was blinded by my own fears. Now, though, as I write this, I am able to appreciate and understand his behaviour. I do not blame him, nor do I hold him responsible for it. On the contrary, I realise now that I, alone, am to blame. I didn't come to that realisation myself, though. My ‘eye openers' came as something of a smack in the face from two entirely different and totally unexpected sources which jolted me awake as it were.

Dad wisely kept his nose out of our business and offered advice only when I asked him to share it with me, which was seldom. Mom, on the other hand, always gave me the impression that she knew more than she was saying. She never really said much about it, but I often had the feeling that she wanted to.

Jeremy finally stopped watching for Brad to come back home on Wednesday afternoon. Terry and Justin had been sitting outside with him under the tree as his gaze remained glued to the driveway. Suddenly, Jeremy stood up and walked back into the house. Justin hastened to catch up to him and walked the rest of the way holding his hand. Terry followed close behind. According to Terry, it was definitely Jeremy who was leading the way. Justin simply tagged along to be with his brother. Once inside, Jeremy asked Mom if he could watch cartoons on television, to which Mom replied, "Of course, Dear." Jeremy then led his brother to the lounge where he curled up in the corner of the sofa alongside Justin and they sat there watching cartoons for the rest of the afternoon until it was time to eat.

Brad didn't telephone that evening which disappointed Jeremy considerably. He got into the bathtub only when I showed him that I had my cell phone with me and, after his bath, he refused to go to bed at his usual time. Ultimately, he fell asleep in my arms as we sat on the sofa downstairs waiting for a telephone call which never came.

As I said, Brad didn't call that night, but Warren did. I'd called him that Friday night when Brad left so I could fill him in on the situation. He was understandably distressed at the news, but assured me it would be temporary at the very most. "Bradley will be back chez vous before you know it, Teddy," he had assured me. I had half expected him to phone me regularly for nightly updates after that, despite my request for him not to do so, but he didn't. Except for a quick call on Monday night, this was only the second time I'd talked to him since Brad left.

"Bon soir, mon ami," he said cheerfully. "Anyone sharing your bed tonight?"

"Not unless the twins drag themselves in later."

He sighed a sorrowful sigh. "I'm so sorry, Teddy. Is there anything we can do?"

"No. We're okay here. Really."

"Well, mon cher, Bill and I were just talking and we'd like you to come up Friday for dinner."

"Oh, I don't know, Warren," I said. "By the time I get Lindsay home from her soccer camp and into the bath. . ."

Warren cut me off abruptly and emphatically. "No, no, Teddy! Just you. Pas les enfants this time. It will give you a bit of a holiday and it will give us all a chance to have a nice little tête à tête about whatever you'd like to have a tête à tête about." He laughed at his own attempt at humour. I didn't laugh.

My answer didn't follow immediately. I paused for quite some time before I responded with my own question. "What are you up to, Warren?"

"Up to?" he said, trying to sound surprised and failing. "I'm not up to anything."

"You've invited Brad for dinner, too, haven't you?" I said accusingly. "You're going to play Dr. Phil and try to get us back together again, aren't you?"

Warren tried to laugh it off, but he didn't fool me. "I wouldn't do that to you, Teddy," he said. "Pas mois! Believe me. Brad won't be here. It will just be you, me, and Bill. No-one else. I swear."

I paused again, judging his words and the tone of his voice. Finally, I said, "I still don't believe you, Warren. You're up to something. I can hear it in your voice."

His voice was muffled as he spoke to Bill. "He doesn't believe me, Hun."

"No Brad, Ted!" Bill said. "Just the three of us."

"Did you hear him?" Warren asked.

"Yes," I said, "but I still think you're up to something."

"Rien, mon cher. I promise. I just get the feeling that you might need to talk, and who better than your best friends? C'est tout, mon ami. So, what do you say? Will you come?"

One more time I paused briefly, then said, "Okay, let me see what I can arrange on this end. If I can get Terry to stay and help Mom and Dad, I'll go. No promises, though. But if Brad shows up. . . ."

"That's good enough for me. You'll call me tomorrow then?"

"Yes, I'll call."

We talked for a time after that, but not about anything important. Warren just talked for the sake of talking, as he quite often did. He was still talking when Mom and Dad went to bed.

* * * * *

I wasn't told about this until several days later, but Terry was called back to soccer camp Thursday morning to be with Jeremy. He'd began his practice as usual but, at around ten o'clock, he suddenly decided that he didn't want to do it anymore and simply sat down on the field. Justin took him by the hand to the side of the soccer pitch whilst one of the counsellors phoned Terry. She arrived quickly enough and sat with Jeremy the rest of the morning as Justin rejoined his lessons. Jeremy didn't want to go home, though. He simply didn't want to play soccer.

Brad phoned Jeremy that night on Mom's telephone line and chatted with him for awhile. He didn't cheer my son up very much that time, though, and I hoped that Brad could hear the sadness in the few words Jeremy said. I hoped that he - Brad - would relent and come home to make Jeremy happy again but, after Jeremy finished his conversation, I knew that it wasn't happening.

Still, I went ahead with my plans and called Warren. I would leave work a bit early and try to get there before five o'clock. Traffic permitting, of course.

Friday morning, Terry didn't even go back to the house after dropping off the kids at their camp. Jeremy didn't want join the practice and sat down at the edge of the field and watched his brother run off to play. Terry stayed with him all morning. I didn't find out about this, either, until a few days later.

I left work a bit early that Friday afternoon to drive to Warren's home in Mississauga. I'd already told the kids that morning during breakfast that I wouldn't be home for dinner and made them promise that they would go to bed when Ouma and Oupa told them to go. Terry had promised to stay at least until after the kids were in bed.

Like driving in any other big city, driving across Toronto during rush hour is a crap shoot. All you can do is to pick a lane, tune in to your favourite radio station which offers frequent traffic reports from helicopters flying overhead, and be prepared to find an alternate route as quickly as you can in order to avoid the traffic back-ups the announcers warn you about. Occasionally, though, circumstances cause you to become involved in one of those traffic jams before you have a chance to avoid it. That's what happened to me.

Some idiot lane hopper in a fire engine red Toyota went zipping past me on my left side, cut in front of me between my car and a minivan ahead of me, and continued directly into the lane to my right. I readied my foot to be moved to the brake at a moment's notice as I watched him continuing on down the freeway zipping from lane to lane wherever he could find a hole large enough to do so. Sure enough, only minutes later, brake lights began flashing and the cars in front of me began to slow down. Ultimately, traffic came to a complete stop, and I was in the middle of it. There was nowhere for me to go and no chance whatsoever to get into the collector lanes. There was nothing I could do except to bide my time and be patient. I gave Warren a quick phone call to tell him where I was and what my situation was. I didn't know how late I would be, but I'd call him back as soon as I had a better idea.

Several minutes later, traffic began moving forward once again, but very slowly. A police car soon passed us by in the emergency lane to the right of the freeway. It's lights were flashing and the siren blared. I suspected it was headed for the disturbance ahead of us. However, being stuck behind the minivan and blocked in on either side, I couldn't see what it was. After a time, I nudged my way as far to the left as I could safely get in order to see beyond the van. I could see the driver of the minivan in his side mirror. He was as courteous as the lane hopper was rude and, upon seeing me in his side mirror, correctly guessed what I was trying to do and pointed toward the left out the window. I read his gesture to mean that the traffic was merging to the left.

Funnily enough, it was at that moment that the announcement of the traffic jam in which I was trapped came over the radio. "Too late, Bud," I said to the radio. I used my minivan friend as my guide and, as soon as he signaled that he was going to merge into the left lane, I did also. When he ultimately succeeded, the vista before me was clear and I could see that I was nearing the end of the jam and gave Warren another quick call and a new ETA.

A few minutes later, as I drove through the bottleneck, I could finally see what had happen. Sure enough, it was our little lane-hopping Toyota friend, turned about on the MacDonald-Cartier Freeway and facing east in the west-bound lane. Another car was turned sideways on the highway and blocking two more lanes. The police were there, investigating the accident. Four lanes of traffic were being squeezed through the single left-hand lane.

I finally arrived at Warren's home about forty minutes later than I had originally anticipated, but at least I'd made it. Bill buzzed me into the building and was standing in the open doorway of their apartment, watching for me, as I stepped off the elevator. He greeted me with a friendly handshake and one of his bear-like hugs.

"Dinner will be awhile yet," he said. "Warren's in the livingroom."

Bill led me down the short hallway, past the kitchen, and into the livingroom where Warren was sitting on the sofa. He stood when he saw me and stepped around the coffee table and toward me. He had a curiously serious look on his face. He put his hands on my biceps and leaned forward to give me a kiss on the lips, then he pulled me into a hug, holding me tightly for quite some time before he said softly into my ear, "I'm so sorry, Teddy. I hope you can forgive me."

I pulled away from him and gave him a baffled, one-sided smile. "Forgive you for what?"

Warren suddenly shouted, "This!" Before I knew it, he stepped away from me, reeled back his right arm, and, with his hand opened flat, smacked me across the left cheek with such force that my head snapped around to the right.

My own hand moved immediately to my stinging cheek as I turned back to face my best friend. My whole body was shaking with the fury I was suddenly feeling. "Gee-sus fuckin' Murphy, Warren! What in hell do you think you're doing!??"

"Something someone should have done years ago!" he yelled. "Now, sit down and shut up!"

"Calm down, will you?" I said. "You're heart, for Christ's sake!"

"Let me worry about my heart!" he said. "If I drop dead over this, at least I know I'll have died trying to save my best friend! Now sit down and shut up!"

I looked at Bill, hoping he'd give me some insight into what was going on, but he simply stood there, his arms crossed over his huge chest. He stared at me with a bitingly stern look in his eyes.

My eyes turned back to Warren. He was standing there with his hands on his hips, his eyes locked on mine and full of seriousness and anger. When he spoke this time, the seriousness and anger filled his voice as well despite the fact that the volume was reduced to a less ear-throbbing level and couldn't be heard three floors away. Still, it was no less menacing. "I told you to sit down and shut up, Ted. Now, do it."

Warren had never told me to do anything in his entire life. He had never stood up to me like that before, either. Perhaps I was stunned into action by this new behaviour, but I thought it best to do as he said and I sat down, especially since a quick glance toward Bill showed me that he was still standing there as large as a bull elephant and equally as dangerous. He easily stepped over beside Warren, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with him, ready to offer his support if necessary. It was clear to me that Bill knew Warren was the host of this party and he was only the bouncer.

Warren just stared at me for what seemed to be a very long time and I waited patiently, staring back at him, still too stunned to do anything else. My fingers still gingerly massaged my tingling cheek. The sting of Warren's hand remained there, but whether it was actual or imagined I'm not sure. Believe me, though, I can still feel it to this day.

Finally, Warren spoke again. "Jesus help me, Ted. Are you so stupidly pig-headed that you can't see what's going on around you? Are you so blinded by your own selfish needs that you put them all ahead of everyone and everything else? Including your children and your family? How did you let this happen, Ted? Why did you let it happen?"

I took a chance and asked a question. "What are you talking about?"

"You know damned well what I'm talking about, Theodore Francis de Villiers! Bradley phoned me Tuesday night after you met him at the restaurant," Warren continued. "He was crying, Ted! He was crying his eyes out! He asked me if you'd ever used Lindsay to blackmail Connie into doing something you wanted her to do and I told him ‘no, never', and then he told me how you used Jeremy to try to get him to come back home. That's not you, Ted. How could you do something like that?"

"I didn't," I protested.

Warren's fury returned with a vengeance. "You did, Ted! Bradley knows the truth! You don't think he does, but he knows everything! As determined as you are to keep him from finding out what's going on, he's more determined to do it! He knows Jeremy is having a tough time of it, but he knows it isn't as bad as you made it out to be! He knows, Ted! He knows! Why did you do that? What in hell has got into you that you're starting to use your own children to get what you want!? This isn't the Ted de Villiers I grew up with. This isn't the Ted I grew to love and cherish! Now, tell me! What in hell is going on!?"

"Keep your voice down, Warren!" I shouted my warning back at him as I rose to my feet in front of the sofa. Warren and Bill quickly closed the gap between us with Warren standing practically nose-to-nose with me. I could feel myself becoming uncontrollably defensive and, as a result, I could feel the anger and despair continuing to build and broil inside me. I gritted my teeth in a desperate attempt to keep my emotions inside, desperate to keep them from bursting out for everyone to see. Desperate to keep the truth from being exposed.

"I will after I get through your thick skull, Ted!" Warren continued, unswayed by my attempt at diversion. "Now, tell me what in hell is going on!"

"That's it," I shouted. "I'm outa here!" I took one single step to the side before Warren reached out and grabbed my arms. My face burned with the fury I was feeling and I yanked my right arm free from his grasp. I could feel my fingers balling into a fist as my arm reeled back, locking into position and ready to catapult itself forward until it slammed into Warren's face. And Warren simply stood there, ready and very willing to allow it to happen if punching his lights out was something I felt impelled to do.

My clenched jaws began to quiver first when I realised what I was about to do, and then my arm began to tremble. The shivers quickly spread through my entire body and I could feel my legs turning into boneless slabs of meat incapable of keeping me upright. And then the tears came, and so did the anguished groan. My fist relaxed and I reached out, grasping for Warren, but he reached me first. In the beat of a butterfly's wing, my best friend had lurched forward and wrapped his arms securely around me, holding me so tightly that I could feel his heart beating, powerful and strong, against my chest. He hugged me with determination and love, and I could feel it. My head fell to his shoulder and I cried.

I don't remember it happening, but I eventually became aware that I was now sitting on the sofa with Bill on one side of me and Warren on the other. The anger was gone now, having been rubbed away by the gentle caresses of their caring hands. I don't know how long we had sat there, nor how long I had cried. All I know is that I felt drained.

For the first time since the day of our wedding, when my fears first began to take root and to grow within my mind and then fertilized by the fire which destroyed our home, I became truly aware of and began to understand exactly what my fears were doing - not only to myself but to my entire family and, ultimately, to my friends as well. I had felt myself losing the battle after Brad left one week to the day previous to that Friday, but his actions had done nothing more than to bolster my fears and to make them even more real in my mind. What was worse was the fact that, in trying to prevent what I had feared would happen, my own actions had inadvertently perpetuated them. By my own actions, I had forced Brad to do the exact thing which I had feared so much that he would do.

I sat back against the sofa and closed my eyes. I felt so tired and defeated. A new fear was developing. Could I repair the damage I had done?

"Bradley loves you very much, Teddy," Warren said suddenly, his voice now calm, normal, and caring. His hand rested comfortingly on my thigh. "And you love him very much. I know you do. Your eyes sparkle every time you talk about him, and they sparkle a lot more when you look at him. I've never seen you look happier than you did the day you married him except the day Lindsay was born. You weren't even that happy when you married Connie. What drove you to risk destroying all that, Teddy? Please, tell me."

I clenched my eyes tighter and sucked in a deep breath of air, holding it for a long time before letting it leak out again. Warren and Bill sat quietly, waiting patiently until I was ready to speak. "I was afraid Brad was. . ." I began, but my throat was Death Valley dry and my voice cracked and broke. I had to stop. We waited as Bill fetched me a glass of water and I drank it all down before trying to speak again. My voice worked that time and, for the very first time, I confessed the fears that I had been so terrified to admit even to myself. "I was afraid," I said, "that Brad was trying to. . . to replace me."

"What?" Warren said, sounding seriously incredulous.

"What makes you think something like that, Ted?" Bill said, speaking for the first time since he'd greeted me at the door.

"Well, he wants to adopt Justin and Jeremy for one thing."

"He's their step father now," Bill explained. "It's only natural that he would want to adopt them."

"But now he's quitting school so he can go to work so he can help look after them," I said. "He doesn't think I can afford to support my family properly."

"I'm sure he doesn't think that way, Ted," Bill said, "but it's his family now, too. You can't blame him for wanting to help take care of it."

"But he's. . ."

Warren finished my sentence, but certainly not the way I had anticipated finishing it myself. "He's supposed to stay at home and let you support him and the rest of the family all by yourself. You are treating him like a Toy Boy."

"No, I'm not," I objected defensively.

"Yes, you are, Teddy. Don't you see? It's just like Brad told me. He said he felt like you expect him to be a good little boy and do as he's told and warm up your bed every night. You're turning into the very thing that sent you to a psychiatrist. You want Brad to be your Sugar Baby and that makes you his Sugar Daddy."

"No," I said. "That's not true." But I couldn't even convince myself that it wasn't so, even when I shook my head to give it emphasis.

I looked at Bill, hoping for denial. Instead I got confirmation. "I agree, Ted," he nodded. "That's the way it looks to me, too. Like it or not, that's the way things were going. But, if you seriously think that Brad is trying to replace you as father to your children, I suggest you make another appointment with your psychiatrist friend as quickly as you can, because you couldn't possibly be farther from the truth. Trust Brad, Ted. He's a big boy and he wants to share your life. He doesn't want to take it over." He rose to his feet then. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll finish getting dinner ready."

* * * * *

We talked and ate dinner together, but I don't even remember what Bill served. My mind was still preoccupied with all the revelations I had been suddenly faced with, and my mind was preoccupied with the during the entire drive home. I do remember, though, that finally admitting my fears about Brad was a great relief. It opened my mind to see things as they truly were rather than the way I had tried to convince myself they were. At least it left things open for more serious consideration.

Warren invited to stay the night but I thought it best to be at home when the kids woke up in the morning and so, at nine o'clock, I bid my adieus to my friends and headed home. The highways were clear by that then and I made good time, arriving at home at the time I had expected. Terry was gone, having left after she was assured that the boys were tucked safely in their bed.

I felt exhausted and wanted nothing more than to take a quick shower and climb into bed. Fate, however, had different plans for me.

Mom and Dad were in the livingroom watching some British gardening programme on television and enjoying a final cup of tea for the night. They didn't ask about my night in Toronto with Warren and Bill, but Mom commented on my apparent change of attitude. "You look lighter," she said. "Less burdened." Neither of them pursued it any further than that.

I went upstairs to use the bathroom and then to check in on Lindsay and the twins. Lindsay was asleep on her tummy and facing away from me, but I managed to give her a kiss on her cheek. The twins, however, were not in their bed. I guessed that they were in my bedroom, so I went there and switched on the overhead light. My bed was empty as well.

Sudden panic and an eerie feeling of déjà vu filled me with dread as my eyes swiftly scanned the room and my brain searched itself for places to begin looking for them. In an instant, I dismissed the idea that they might have gone outside. That would have been virtually impossible with both Mom and Dad downstairs. Chances were good that they were still in the house and probably upstairs.

"Justin! Jeremy!" I called out. "Justin!"

Dad's voice reached me from downstairs as he called my name, followed almost immediately by the sounds of his and Mom's footsteps moving swiftly across the livingroom floor. At that moment, though, my attention was more on the closet door which was swinging open a bit more than it had been when I entered the room. A tiny and very familiar voice said sleepily, "Here, Daddy."

I reached the closet a moment later and pulled the door open. Light from the overhead light flooded into the small cubicle. There, on the floor, lay a small pile of Brad's clothes - shirts, jeans, socks, underwear, even a jacket and a pair of shoes. Atop them were my sons. Justin was sitting up and looking up at me through drooping, sleepy eyelids. Jeremy remained on his side atop the clothes, clutching Brad's tightly in his arms.

I knelt down onto one knee in the doorway. "Justin?" Despite my pounding heart and gasping breath, I somehow managed to keep my voice soft and calm. "What's going on?"

"Jeremy smells Daddy Brad here," he explained in a hushed, tired voice. His eyes glinted with moisture.

A shadow fell over me from behind and I knew Dad had arrived. He was soon joined by Mom, and then I heard Lindsay's voice asking what was happening.

My attention remained on the boys in front of me, however. I held out my hand. "Come on, Justin. Jeremy? Come on out, okay?"

Justin shook his head slowly. "He doesn't want to come, Daddy," he said.

As I reached out to put my hand on Jeremy's arm, I said, "Come on, Jer. . ." I didn't get to finish his name. As soon as I touched him, Jeremy let out the most blood-curling scream I'd ever heard from him. It was so powerful and frightening that it made me scramble to my feet, practically bowling Dad over at the same time.

Jeremy continued screaming. "Go away!" he shouted, again and again and again until Justin lay down beside him once more and put his small hand on Jeremy's side. Only then did Jeremy fall silent and clutch Brad's shoes even more tightly to him. My son was rejecting me. He didn't want anything to do with me.

"Oh, God," I said to myself, but loud enough for the others to hear. "What have I done?"

Unfortunately, or perhaps more precisely ‘fortunately', the answer was painfully clear even to me now, echoing in Jeremy's scream which still bounced around in my brain. I had drove him to this through my stupid obsessions and anxieties. I alone had done this to him.

I felt Dad's hand come to rest on my shoulder. I turned to face him. "What have I done, Dad? What do I do?"

"You know what you have done, my Sonskyn," Dad said calmly, "and you know also what you must do." He maneuvered himself around to stand beside me and to put a supportive arm around my back. "But not here," he added as he guided me toward the bedroom door. "Away from the children."

Dad accompanied me into the hall, closing the door behind us. Mom remained in the bedroom to watch over the kids. As we walked down the hall, I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and dialed Brad's number. I counted out the rings in my head as I coaxed into the phone, "Come on, Brad. Come on. Answer it." I disconnected when I reached twelve rings, then dialed again and counted twelve more rings. Still, Brad wouldn't answer his phone. I disconnected again. "I hope his parents are still awake," I said as I began dialing another number, but Dad put his hand over mine and stopped me.

"He is not there, Theodore," he said.

I looked at Dad incredulously. "How do you know he's not there? Where is he?"

"He has been a guest of Nathan and Barry since he left last week."

"What? Why hasn't anyone told me?"

"Bradley did not wish you to know."

"And you've known all this time?"

Dad nodded.

I was astounded. I felt betrayed all over again, not only by Brad this time, but by my parents as well. They sided with Brad and not their own son. "Gee-sus, Murphy, Dad!" I exclaimed.

"Theodore," my father said calmly as he put his hand on my shoulder again, "do not allow your anger to send Bradley away again before you give him the opportunity to come home where he belongs. He did only what he felt was necessary, and he did so only because of the love he feels for you and for your children. Perhaps one day you may fully appreciate how very difficult the decision to leave truly was for him to make and how very difficult being away from you and my grandchildren has been for him."

Dad removed his hand from my shoulder and smiled at me but I couldn't smile back. "Bradley is a remarkable young man, my Sonskyn, and my fondness and respect for him has grown immensely. Your role in marriage has changed, Theodore. It is not as it once was for you - as it was for you and Lindsay's mother. . . as it is for me and your mother. Your marriage is not governed by the same rules. If you wish to succeed, you must accommodate the new rules. You must accommodate Bradley as he must accommodate you. Otherwise, your marriage is doomed to death even before it has had a chance at life."

Dad's melodrama did not escape me, but neither did his words of wisdom. Warren had opened my eyes with his dedication to me when he had placed his life and health in danger for my future by forcing me to face my fears. My adopted son had opened them even more with his dire scream of loneliness and despair, showing me the destruction I had caused to my own family through my actions. Dad had merely pulled all the pieces together for me and made me see what had not been obvious to me but had been blatantly clear to everyone else.

I nodded, smiled at Dad, and then I dialed Nathan's telephone number. He answered his phone in the middle of the third ring.

"Hello," he said cheerfully.

"Hi, Nathan. It's Ted."

"Oh, hi, Ted. What's up?"

"I need to speak to Brad," I told him. "It's really important."

"Sorry, Ted," Nathan replied, "I haven't talked to him in a few days. Have you tried his parents'?"

"I know he's there, Nathan. Dad just told me."

"Oh." The cheerfulness faded from his voice. "He doesn't want to talk to you, Ted."

"I need to. Tell him it's about Jeremy."

"I don't think. . ."

"Please, Nathan," I interrupted urgently. "Just tell him."

There was a long, silent pause before Nathan's voice returned. "Sorry, Ted."

"I know what he's thinking, but it isn't like that. Jeremy's in our closet sleeping on Brad's clothes. Tell him that. Please."

There was another lengthy silence followed by muffled sounds and then Brad's voice came through the earpiece. "Damn it, Ted! I told you never, ever to use Jeremy as a pawn again!"

"It's the truth, Brad," I pleaded. "Jeremy's lying on your clothes and holding your shoes. He won't even talk to me. He just screams at me when I touch him. Please, Brad, you have to believe me."

"I don't, Ted, and I'm not sure I'll ever be able to trust you again!"

"Brad, plea. . ."

The word hung itself in the air as Dad grabbed my cell phone out of my hand. He slapped it to his ear and began speaking. "Bradley, this is Jan speaking. My son speaks the truth. Jeremy is. . ."

Dad fell silent for a moment, then pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at it for a moment before holding it out to me. "Bradley uttered an expletive and disengaged. I believe he is coming here. I shall go downstairs to await his arrival."

I went back to the bedroom as Dad went downstairs. Mom was sitting on the end of my bed, cuddling Lindsay. I joined them and Lindsay shifted to curl up in my lap, resting her head on my shoulder. Mom remained silent with her hand resting on my leg just above my knee. We sat there helplessly watching my sons through the open closet door.

Time passed painfully slowly, but suddenly there was the sound of the front door opening and closing and the rapid stomping of footsteps as they hastened up the staircase. I set Lindsay down and stood up beside her. Mom, too, rose to her feet. A moment later, Brad appeared in the doorway, panting for breath through his open mouth and grasping the doorjamb on either side. He looked first at me and then at the closet door. I could see him gulping and swallowing, and then he moved forward and pulled the closet door open all the way.

I stepped up beside him in time to hear him utter "Oh, God." A moment later, Justin was shaking Jeremy's arm with great urgency and calling his name. Brad dropped to both knees in the doorway and said softly, "Jeremy, I'm here."

Jeremy's eyes opened slowly and he looked toward the voice for a moment, almost in disbelief. Suddenly, he jumped up and scrambled quickly into Brad's open and welcoming arms. He latched onto Brad's shirt and held on so tightly that I could see his knuckles turning white. Brad wrapped his strong arms around him and held him tightly as Justin squirmed past them and through the doorway and into my own waiting arms.

Through the open window, the rustling sounds of the wind in the trees and the chirping of crickets and the distant croaking of frogs could be heard above the muffled voices coming from the television on the floor below. We all stood there and waited until, finally, Jeremy leaned back a bit so he could look into Brad's face. His voice was extremely small and tentative, full of trepidation and anxiety, yet also full of undisguised hope. "Are you coming home now?"

Still kneeling on the floor, Brad looked up at me. "I won't quit my job, Ted," he said as he blinked away the tears filling his eyes.

I was ready to do what had to be done for the sake of my family. I shook my head slowly back and forth. "I don't want you to quit, Brad," I told him. "I was wrong and I'm sorry. If you can forgive me, I want you to come home."

Ever-so-slowly a smile formed itself on Brad's handsome face. It was a smile full of hope and happiness and love, and I knew, without a doubt, that my Tiger was coming home.

To Be Continued​

 

[thermodynamics]

Awwww! I'm so happy for them! So thankful that Ted finally realized he was being an asshole, even though it took a slap to the face and a screaming child to make it happen. Better late than never.

I can't wait for the makeup sex...

 

[operafan]

I'm so easy.

 

[BlueD]

I'm so easy.

me too

 

[Kyanimal]

"Darn it!", Neil! ...

There I was, in the middle of my lunch, catching up ... and then ...

"My clenched jaws began to quiver first when I realised what I was about to do, and then my arm began to tremble. ... In the beat of a butterfly's wing, my best friend had lurched forward and wrapped his arms securely around me, holding me so tightly that I could feel his heart beating, powerful and strong, against my chest. He hugged me with determination and love, and I could feel it. My head fell to his shoulder and I cried."

You made me drop my sandwich (on the plate), run upstairs, blow my nose, and wipe my eyes!! (But it's not like I didn't need the excersise!)

But, was that enough? Oh, No! You just had to add the twins, and the clothes, in the closet, didn't You?!!!

"Darn it"!!!

THANK YOU!!

Keep smilin'!!
Chaz

 

[harry113]

WOW!!! I hope that now Ted appreciates what great & caring & loving friends & family he has!
I do hope he will accept Brad as a full partner in this marriage, as well as a lover!
Thank you Neil, once again you have excelled yourself. What a wonderful chapter!
Hugs
Harry

 

[dlf0001]

Again, all I can say is Thank You for this remarkably epic saga.

 

[sheep]

I still have this image burned in my mind of Ted eating his dinner and drinking the two beers that Brad paid for, sitting all alone wondering what got into Brad. Mon Dieu, it's about time Warren knocked some sense into him.

BTW too

 

[phoenix72]

Ted finally got the message and it took his best friend Warren slapping him in the face to help wake him up. I'm just glad that he was able to come to his senses even if it was with a bit of help from outside forces. just another reason why i really love this story so much.

 

[gambit2212]

I kept thinking to myself that I could quickly catch up on this story at work by reading it on my iPhone. As I read further, I kept repeating over and over "I will not cry at work. I will not cry at work." Well I did. And Neil, it's all your fault.

Thank you though!

 

[gsdx]

As I read further, I kept repeating over and over "I will not cry at work. I will not cry at work." Well I did. And Neil, it's all your fault.

If it's any consolation, I cry when I write those scenes, probably as much or perhaps even more than you do when you read them. To be honest, I judge your reactions by my own. If the writing doesn't affect me, then I know it won't affect you, either.

 

[GrayFox]

Thanks alot, Neil! I can hardly see the computer!

 

[ukbrit]

A complicated chapter and well written.... But.
Somehow I am not so sure Ted has come around 100% to the way things are going with Brad. he has had a wake up call before but he went back to his old ways very quickly, Brad and Teds friends still need to watch things. I hope I am wrong but I have an uneasy feeling Ted has not fully learned his lesson, something still needs to happen to finally convince Ted that Brad can and will succeed in his quest to be equal and make his garden company dreams work.

 

[upyrkilt469]

Neil, I was glad the Kleenex box was handy. That was a great chapter and it is good to see that Ted has finally realized what Brad is worth. Thanks for a great read. Vic