andrew thomas
Slut
I wonder if Ted and his family ready to move into their new home yet ? it is close to Christmas. We all waiting to know.................
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Watching Brad
- Thread starter gsdx
- Start date
Keeping fingers crossed, there will be a new chapter before Christmas. Will they be moving into the new house? You'll just have to wait and see.
I truly wish I could keep up with you guys, but it's very difficult, and it gets more difficult at this time of year.
I'm not giving up, though.
andrew thomas
Slut
Hi Neil,
Thanks for the fast update. I am glad and look forward to a new chapter before Christmas. I will have my fingers crossed. It is truely believe that will be the best Christmas gifts that I look for. I believe your other readers will feel the same. Keep up the good work. Keep well and warm and happy Holidays.
Thanks for the fast update. I am glad and look forward to a new chapter before Christmas. I will have my fingers crossed. It is truely believe that will be the best Christmas gifts that I look for. I believe your other readers will feel the same. Keep up the good work. Keep well and warm and happy Holidays.
This isn't where I wanted to end this chapter, but writing has been most difficult these past few weeks. I get to feeling 'down' at this time of the year and I was hoping the writing would keep me from getting into a funk, but it didn't. Fortunately, I had more than enough written that I could back up a bit and divide the chapter so I could make this installment for you.
Whatever holiday you celebrate, and even if you don't celebrate any of them, please, be safe, and please, please please drive carefully.
Enjoy.
Neil
The next big event following Thanksgiving was my birthday. Brad and Lindsay had been there to share the last one with me, but the twins hadn’t. They were a late birthday present by a week or two. Apparently (according to Brad) they were showing a lot of excitement and enthusiasm about being there this time until he explained to them that there wouldn’t be a circus in our front yard like the one they had on their birthday earlier that year. “Oh,” they whimpered with extreme disenchantment. The smiles on their faces disappeared faster than the last oatmeal chocolate chip cookie on the plate. Their expressions went straight to some serious disappointment and pouting. Their smiles returned, however, when Brad promised them that he would take them to the local bakery and they could pick out any cake they wanted to buy for me. They could pick out my present, too.
I could hardly wait.
Lindsay slept in the Winnebago for the last time that Thanksgiving night. The next morning, while my daughter was at school, Bernice and Terry busied themselves moving her belongings from the camper to Brad’s old bedroom in the Hayes’ home. By the time she came home from school that afternoon, her new bedroom was all set up and waiting for her.
It disturbed me that I hadn’t noticed earlier how much she had been keeping up appearances before that day, trying as she had to make the best of a difficult situation without letting me know how uncomfortable she was with it and how much she felt displaced by it. I had barely pulled into the driveway after work and had parked my car when Lindsay came running out of the front door of John and Bernice’s home much as she had done that day in July when Brad and I returned from England that fateful day. Instead of a face full of tears and terror, though, she was all smiles and excitement this time.
As I had done on that day, I knelt on one knee to greet her. She ran into my arms, wrapped hers around my neck, and gave me a huge hug before giving me an enormous smacker right on my lips. “Oh, Daddy,” she exclaimed, eagerly, “my room is so beautiful! Come see it!”
I was about to rise to my feet when Jeremy and Justin came tearing out of the camper door and headed straight for me as well. Brad followed them at a much more leisurely pace. I stayed where I was on my knee to get my warm fuzzies from the boys and to give snuggles and smooches back to them.
Brad was last, but certainly not least. Still, we managed to share a short but most enjoyable kiss before Lindsay shouted, “Daddy! Come on!”
We broke the kiss and Brad smiled at me with that delightful chipped-tooth smile of his. “Don’t be long, Pops,” he said. “I’ve got supper on the stove.”
“Don’t tell me. Leftovers.”
“Of course,” he grinned at me. “Oh, and David’s staying for supper. He wants to talk to us so I invited him to stay.”
I looked around for him. He was nowhere in sight. “Where is he?”
Brad jerked his head toward our house-under-construction. “Over there, still cleaning up. He said he wouldn’t be long.”
As if on cue, David appeared from behind the Hayes house pushing a wheelbarrow filled with scraps of lumber and other bits and bobs. He saw me and, even from across the yard, I could see his bright, cheery smile. He stopped long enough to yell, “Yo, Ted! Howzit goin’, eh?”
“Great!” I called back.
“Be over in a bit! Just a couple more loads!” And then he was off in the direction of the large red dumpster sitting on what used to be our old driveway. It looked more like a war zone at the moment. David was sounding more Canadian every day. Either he was very observant or he and Brook spent a great deal of their leisure time practicing his diction and Canadianisms. At any rate, I was dreading the day that he might see a Bob and Doug McKenzie sketch on a repeat of Second City and start calling us all ‘hosers’ and telling us to, “Take off, eh?”
Brad gave me another quick kiss, said, “I want more of that for dessert later,” then he turned toward the Winnebago while I took the twins by hand and followed my daughter into the house to see her bedroom.
John and Bernice greeted us at the front door and followed us down the hall to the guest bedroom. They stopped in the doorway and looked in after the rest of us had entered.
Lindsay’s clothes were all sorted and either hung up in her closet or put away in her chest of drawers. She was quite excited about that – not having to put her clothes in a built-in storage box under the mattress of her sofa bed. The books she’d had stored away under her clothes had been moved and placed on shelves. Her more personal treasures and ornaments were still packed in a box, waiting for Lindsay to unpack them and display them as she wished. Sadly, her collection was greatly diminished following the fire, but she cherished what we had been able to salvage and we (meaning me and brad and our friends and families) had been rebuilding the collection over time. Still, it was a small fraction of what she used to have, but no less beautiful. I noticed that the newer objects seemed to be more mature, though. Even those I had bought were more for a young lady than a little girl. As difficult as it was for me to admit, my baby was growing up.
“Grandma said she’d take me shopping after supper to buy some new sheets and stuff for the bed and some new curtains and some new paint or wallpaper.” Lindsay was exceedingly excited about that.
I glanced over my shoulder at John and Bernice. John showed no emotions, but Bernice was smiling happily. I turned to my daughter. “Sweetheart,” I said as kindly as I could, “This is your grandmother’s guestroom. Other people will be sleeping in here as well. Don’t you think the walls are and curtains are pretty enough already? Wouldn’t it be better if you just get bedding that you like and leave the walls alone so Grandma’s guests will like sleeping here, too?”
Before Lindsay could respond, Bernice spoke up. I turned my head again to look at her. “Maybe something for the wall behind the bed then? Maybe some bolder paint or some patterned wallpaper? You know, they call it a feature wall?” She looked at me hopefully. It was easy to see that she wanted to do this for her granddaughter, but it was just as important to me that she didn’t do the whole room over for just a few months of Lindsay living there and having to redo it again when our house was ready and my daughter moved out. After a few moments, she added, “I promised her, Ted. I can’t go back on my promise.”
I gave her a slight nod and smile before saying to Lindsay, “Okay, Sweetheart, but only the one wall, okay? And try to pick out something that everyone will like – and that includes Grandma, too. Not just you, okay?”
Her face lit up with her smile. “Okay, Daddy. I will.”
Brad and I sat on one side of the small table. David sat on the other side between Justin and Jeremy. They made an undeniably cute trio.
David told us all about his first Canadian Thanksgiving Day, about how he and Brook had driven to Niagara Falls. Apparently they didn’t do much sightseeing, though. The Falls took second stage to their hotel room. Ironically, they stayed in the same hotel that Brad and I had stayed in that weekend so long ago when I surprised Brad with his own box of condoms. I can still see the expression of incredulity on his face to this day. Truth be told, that moment still causes a stirring in my underwear.
Getting back to David, though. . .
“I can’t believe how different Thanksgiving is up here,” David was saying. “I mean, there aren’t any parades, no Snoopy balloons or Santa Claus float. No Thanksgiving Day sales being blasted over the tube all day long. No all-day football games. You don’t even have a Black Friday. I guess you’d call it Black Tuesday here, wouldn’t you? It’s weird having Thanksgiving Day on Monday, but it made for a nice long weekend with Brook. But Thanksgiving’s all about the family isn’t it? Nobody’s really trying to make money on it.”
“Pretty much, yeah,” I said.
“Miss it?” Brad asked curiously.
“Not a bit,” he replied as he sliced off another piece of turkey breast dripping in homemade gravy and popped it into his mouth. “I mean, I don’t mind football, really. The eye candy makes it worth watching. But not when it’s the only thing on television all afternoon and night.”
“We get the Grey Cup in November,” Brad said. “It’s the biggest game going up here except for the Stanley Cup. There’s the parade, and then there’s the pre pre-game show, the pre-game show, the pre post-game pre-game show, highlights from the past twenty Grey Cup Games, on the spot fan reactions from across all Canada, and then, if there’s any time left, they actually show the game. And then have a pre-game post-game show before the post-game show comes on. By that time, you are totally and truly zombiefied.”
David slapped his hand over his mouth to prevent his laughter from splattering his leftovers all over the table. Even then, he almost choked. I’m afraid I wouldn’t have been much help. I was laughing right along with him. So were the twins. “That is so-o-o-o-o the funniest thing I’ve ever heard!” he said when he was able to speak. “How in hell did you do that with a straight face?”
“What do you mean?” Brad asked with a puzzled look on his face. “It’s true.”
That made me and David laugh even harder. Justin and Jeremy laughed louder to keep up with us. This time, Brad joined us. He couldn’t hold his straight face any longer.
“It’s in Winnipeg this year,” Brad added when we’d finally quieted down, “but Toronto will still be filled with Grey Cup Fever. If you want to experience it first-hand, you and Brook should find yourself a bar with big-screen TVs in The Village. Talk about a party atmosphere. Especially when they flood out of the bars and into the streets after the game. If you’re not into noisy, drunken crowds swarming all over the place and squishing you to death, you can stay at home and watch it there. When the game’s over, go out on your balcony and watch the after-game party from there. It’s not quite the same as being there in person, but it’s the next-best thing. Grey Cup Weekend is almost a religion on this side of the border.”
“Do the players wear those skin-tight pants up here like they do back home?”
“Yup.”
“Hey, I’m in. There ain’t nothin’ like a nice, tight. . .”
I cut him off in mid sentence with an emphatic and warning “Ahem!” and a nod to the boys.
David glared at me. “‘End’, Ted. I was going to say ‘tight end’.”
“Yeah, right,” I replied with a smirk.
“You know me too well, Ted,” David replied with a wide, roguish grin and an impish glint in his eye. It was difficult getting angry with David. He was just as big a sweetheart as my Tiger and just as cute. “Still,” he continued, “there’s nothin’ like a nice tight end to keep the game fun and interesting, right, Brad?” And, with that, he washed down his mouthful of Mom’s stuffing with a forkful of reheated mashed potatoes as Brad laughed so hard that tears rolled down both cheeks and I turned redder than the cranberry sauce sitting on the side of my plate.
By the time we got to dessert, I realised that David still hadn’t told us his news. I questioned him on it: “I thought you wanted to tell us something.”
“I already did,” he explained matter-of-factly. “I wanted to tell you about my first Canadian Thanksgiving with Brook.”
I looked at Brad with a confused and questioning look on my face. “We fed him for that?” I said. “He could have sent us an Email.”
Justin and Jeremy didn’t get the joke, but they laughed nonetheless.
* * * * *
That night, with Justin and Jeremy sound asleep in their loft, Brad and I snuggled warmly under our comforter and, as my Gran was often keen to say, did a bit of ‘snogging’. It was always fun snogging with Brad. He was pretty damned good at it.
Later, when we were finished snogging and were simply snuggling up with each other and waiting for sleep to overtake us, Brad asked his question, and it came at me right out of nowhere: “Would you have turned gay if you’d met David before you met me?”
I was so surprised by it that wasn’t at all certain I had heard him correctly. “Say what!?”
Brad rolled up on his elbow, facing me and looking down at me. That made me feel rather uncomfortable so I propped myself up on my own elbow to look at him eye-to-eye. “You know,” he continued calmly, “you weren’t attracted to guys until you met me. Now look at us. We’re married and you’re doing things with me that you never thought of doing with a man before. Would the same thing have happened with David if you had met first?”
I tried to make light of it: “Gee-sus, Murphy, Brad, I’m not even David’s type.”
Thankfully, Brad smiled at that. “I know you aren’t, but pretend you were. Would you have done everything for David that you did for me? You know, have sex and get married? Fall in love?”
I looked down at my feet, thinking furiously of what my answer should be, and I couldn’t come up with one. After three decades of heterosexuality, I was now lying in bed with my husband. I was madly in love with him and couldn’t imagine wanting to go through the rest of my life without him. Women didn’t arouse me anymore. I wasn’t attracted to them anymore. As strange as it may seem, thinking of them as sexual objects was completely alien to me now.
David turned me on. There was no denying that. I haven’t told anyone until this moment, but when I’d seen him in our bathroom wearing only his underwear earlier that summer, that day when he’d collapsed from the effort and the heat after his arm wrestling contest with Barry, I was surprised by how utterly sexual he was. He was small in stature, but there was more man packed in that body than I could ever fill. He was the object of more erections than I care to admit to, that’s for sure. And Barry, too. Unlike David, though, Barry had been the object of not only a whole lot of erections, but a great number of my dreams and fantasies as well, especially after seeing him naked in our little pool with his hardon poking out of the water like a fleshy periscope. To this day I have no problem remembering that night. The image is permanently burnt into my brain and it can still tent my shorts.
Would I have sex with them if the opportunity presented itself with no consequences attached? Without a doubt. Brook, too. That guy had some serious sexiness going on there, especially with that voice of his. It’s easy to see why David fell for him. But would I have gone gay for any of them before I met Brad and discovered how much I enjoyed man-on-man sex? I honestly didn’t know.
I contemplated what it had been about Brad that attracted me to him so much. Of course, his endowment was a curiosity at first viewing. I mean, not many average-sized men like me can look at someone of Brad’s size without feeling a modicum of envy. Same thing when I saw him sucking himself off. I don’t think there’s a man alive who hasn’t wanted to be able to do that. I’d seen enough big dicks in my life. I’d even seen my share of men jerking off. You can’t live in a university dorm without stumbling upon someone spanking the monkey a few times a week. Still, despite my initial fascination with Brad’s ‘gift’, that wasn’t the reason I decided that I wanted to have sex with him.
So, what was it about Brad that made me fall in love with him? After a lot of subsequent, very serious and very deep, mind-probing, I came to the conclusion that it was Brad’s innocent enthusiasm, his unabashed growing affection for me, and his completely unexpected exhibitionistic streak which, apparently, was reserved just for me.
But that conclusion was reached a long time after the fact, and I probably wouldn’t have even tried to figure it out if I hadn’t decided to share our tale with the world. Back then, I could think of only one reason: what I did for Brad I did for him - not for me - because I cared enough about him to do something I would never have considered doing at the time. That night, as Brad and I talked, I realised that I wanted to have sex with David for me. I wasn’t looking for anything in return other than the pleasure of blowing him. Same with Barry and Brook. It was all for me.
For Brad, though, it was all for him. Before I could respond after those few long moments of silent thought, Brad interrupted my thoughts: “You don’t have to answer, Pops. It doesn’t really matter. I know how much you like being around David and it made me wonder if you would have turned gay for him the way you did with me. That’s all.”
“I really don’t know, Tiger. I don’t think so. Before I met you, I never looked at other men that way. Sure, I could look at men and think they were handsome or sexy, and I could admire them in a tight pair of jeans, but I never wanted to have sex with any of them. Like David. I might have thought he was cute, but I really don’t think I would have turned gay for him. Not for Barry or Brook, either. The idea wasn’t repulsive. It just wasn’t something I would have wanted to do.”
After a moment or two, Brad asked, “Why me then? What was it about me that made you want to give up having sex with women and have sex with me?”
I didn’t have to think hard to answer that one. “Because you’re the first man who ever gave me a hardon, Tiger. That first night I watched you through your bedroom window when you were blowing yourself, I wished that it was something I could do to myself. But after watching you for a few minutes, I started to think about what it would feel like if you were doing it to me. And then , after you did it again in my livingroom, I had a dream about doing it to you. It’s funny, really. If you had just stuck to jerking yourself off, I might have watched for a bit until I finished my cigarette and then I would have left you do it and gone back inside and we wouldn’t be here now. I mean, you’re not the first guy I’d ever seen jerk off. You were bigger than most of them, but you certainly weren’t the first one I saw. No. It all happened when you started sucking yourself. I couldn’t stop watching. I’d heard about it, but I’d never seen anyone doing it. I don’t know, Tiger. I liked watching you. Later, making love with you just seemed to be the natural progression of things and I discovered I liked it a lot more than with a woman. But would the same thing have happened if it was David? I think I’d have to say ‘no’.”
Brad was silent for a long half-minute or so, looking at an invisible spot somewhere in the neighbourhood of our belly buttons, before nodding once. And then he asked, “If you walked in on him jerking off now and he asked you to help him out, would you?”
I suddenly felt defeated, crestfallen. “Please don’t make me answer that, Brad. It’s you I love. Not David. Not Barry. Only you.”
Brad’s face relaxed and he smiled at me. “I love you, too, Pops,” he said with just the right amount of emotion in his voice. We leaned forward at the same time, tilting our heads in opposite directions and allowing our lips to connect in a long, tender kiss.
We turned out the lights then and snuggled together beneath the warm blankets and comforter. From the other end of the camper came the soft, distant snores of our sons. Outside, the wind whistled through the power lines and hummed through the nearly naked branches of the trees. Leaves swirled around the Winnebago as it gently rocked ever-so-slightly in the wind. I knew there wouldn’t be many leaves left on the trees by morning.
“Pops?” Brad said in a voice that only I was meant to hear.
“Yeah?” I said just as secretly.
“If I walked in on Nathan and he asked me. . . I think I might have a really hard time saying ‘no’, too.”
There are many times that I’ve felt that I didn’t deserve the love of this young man. That was one of those times.
* * * * *
The road report early the next morning reported that a jackknifed tractor trailer on the Don Valley Parkway just north of Lawrence was blocking two and a half of the three lanes and had traffic backed up well to the south of Bloor. Nobody was injured, thank goodness, but there were a whole lot of people getting nowhere in a great big hurry with more cars joining the jam with every passing minute.
We were preparing breakfast for the boys. Brad was getting their cereal ready and I was making toast. “I hope David didn’t get caught up in that,” I mentioned off-handedly.
“I’m sure he’s used to Toronto traffic by now.”
“Still, if he was on the DVP when it happened. . .” There wasn’t a need to finish that sentence. Brad knew it already.
David didn’t show up by the time I left for work and he wasn’t there when I got back home for dinner. That wasn’t unusual. Depending on Brook’s schedule, David sometimes left early so he could get to Toronto in time to get showered and dressed for an evening out with his boyfriend. At least that was usually the intent. It didn’t always work out that way. There were times when they would become preoccupied with other urgent matters which would. . . er. . . ‘arise’ and have to call the restaurant to set their reservations back an hour or two.
I remember Brad once asking them why they didn’t just make reservations for an hour or two later. Brook had replied without hesitation: “We would still have to call and move it ahead another hour or two, Brad.” With a quick jerk of his head in David’s general direction, he added, “We’re talking the Energizer Bunny on caffeine here and I still can’t find the ‘off’ switch.”
I was attacked in the yard by Justin and Jeremy shortly after I stepped out of my parked car. I crouched as they jumped into my arms and began to smother me with their kisses. I did my best to return them as I walked the short hike to the door of our motor home. Brad was holding the door open for us. I set the boys inside on the floor, stepped up the single step and through the doorway, and pulled the door closed behind me. Brad’s arms awaited me and I fell into them.
When we were finished our greetings, Brad pulled back a bit with his hands draped over my shoulders. My hands rested on his hips, holding them in place against me. “I have something to tell you, Pops,” he said in a soft, almost sultry, hormone-stimulating voice. The smile on his lips and the look in his eyes sent a whole slew of neat feelings through my body which centered themselves in the spot where our bodies touched. I could feel the soft, full mound of his crotch pressing against mine.
“What is it,” I whispered back.
Brad leaned in to whisper secretively into my ear: “Lindsay wants you to take over your laptop when we take the twins over for their bath tonight.”
I whispered into his: “Okay, I will. What’s for dinner?”
As it turned out, Lindsay wanted to show me something on the Internet that she’d heard about in class that day. As Justin and Jeremy took their baths, I sat on the sofa beside Brad as he typed the web addresses into the browser. Lindsay sat between my legs; I wrapped my arms around her. As we watched the screen, a webpage for a holiday event in Peterborough popped up. It was called The Festival of Trees, an annual charitable event in which Christmas trees, designed and decorated by volunteers, are set up in a holiday scene. For a week, the public is invited to visit the venue (for a small fee, of course) where they can enjoy the beautiful trees and all the exciting extras: a full-sized gingerbread house, a candy shop, a gift shop, a small café, and much, much more. At the end of the festival, the trees are auctioned off to the highest bidders. All proceeds go to the various healthcare units around the city.
As Brad clicked through the various photos in the photo gallery of past festivals, Lindsay twisted her head and shoulders around so she could see my face and asked, “Will you take me there, Daddy? I’d really like to see that. And there’s a Christmas show I would like to see, too.” She directed Brad to the second web address which took us to a page promoting a multi-cultural Christmas show that promised plenty of exciting entertainment from around the world. “My teacher, Mrs. Kelly, explained to us what ‘multi-cultural’ is, and my friend, Jamee, went last year. She’s going again this year. Could we go to that, too?”
“I think we could, Sweetheart,” I smiled. “I’m sure Justin and Jeremy would love to have a taste of that gingerbread house.”
Lindsay turned her gaze back to the screen and said softly, “Oh. Okay.”
I saw Brad turn his head slightly toward her and then he looked at me. “You know, Ted, it’s been ages since I’ve had time alone with Justin and Jeremy.” His eyes flicked quickly in Lindsay’s direction and then winked at me. “That would be a great time for me to take them out so they can do all their Christmas shopping. You wouldn’t mind if we stayed here and you and Lindsay go to Peterborough by yourselves, would you?”
I looked from Brad’s face to Lindsay’s. She was looking up at me again with undisguised hope in her eyes. Once again, Brad had seen and heard something I had missed and was rescuing me from disappointing my daughter. I was grateful for his lead and I followed it. “Would that be okay with you, Sweetheart?” I asked. “Just you and me?”
Lindsay’s eyes lit up with happy sparkles, a wide grin spread across her face. “Can we?” she asked excitedly.
“Sure,” I said, “if you think you can put up with me for a few days. Besides, we could take some time to do our own shopping, couldn’t we? You’ve never shopped for Christmas presents in Peterborough before, have you?”
Lindsay’s head shook back and forth. Her arms came around my neck and she hugged me as hard as she could. Over her small shoulder, Brad gave me a smile and a quick wink. How did I ever manage to get so far in life without him?
We spent the next little while ordering tickets and making reservations at the Holiday Inn which was situated on the banks of Little Lake. That was we had watched the fireworks that summer day. Brad reserved a room on the lake side for us with. It had double beds and a balcony off the room overlooked the lake. Lindsay told Brad to make sure it was on the top floor. She wanted to be as high as she could get so she could watch the sunrise.
That was Wednesday night. The very next morning, as we were preparing breakfast for Justin and Jeremy we were startled by a loud, frantic pounding on the door of the Winnebago. My first thought was that something had happened to Lindsay. I panicked. I dropped the spoons on the small kitchen counter and rushed the short distance to the vibrating door. Justin and Jeremy, scrambling down from their loft, almost beat me to it but resigned themselves to standing on either side of me when I told them to stay back. Brad joined us and stood close behind me, resting his reassuring hands on my shoulders.
I squinted through the small window into the October morning darkness, hoping to see the light from inside lighting the face of our visitor. Failing that, I was hoping to see at least the shadow of someone I recognised, but I couldn’t see anybody standing there. I was so anxious trying to get the stubborn door unlocked that I didn’t even notice how odd that was. My fumbling fingers finally managed to get the small latch unhooked and I grasped the knob, twisted, and pushed the door open, hoping like hell that the person on the other side of the door knew enough to get out of the way.
Nobody was there. Nobody. That I found odd. I was just about to step out the door when a head popped into view in the open doorway. It was David. He was wearing a grin that split his face from one side to the other and his bright eyes sparkled from the camper lights with a brilliance I had never seen before.
“Can you spare a coffee for a hard-working man?” he asked, and then and hidden hand slid a yellow hardhat with the name ‘Davey’ painted with black paint onto his head as he stepped into the frame of the open doorway. He wore his usual long-sleeved work shirt and sleeveless, flannelette work vest, his hip-hugging jeans and his steel-toed work boots, but that morning he also wore a tan-coloured, suede-leather tool belt clasped firmly over his hips. There was a large pouch on either side of his crotch, each with a slightly smaller pouch securely sewn and fastened to the front of them. The front pouches appeared to be empty, but I knew enough to know that they were reserved for holding nails and screws. The larger pouches closer to his body were filled with various tools and squares and such necessary to a carpenter. A solid-looking tape measure was tucked securely into strap above his crotch and between the two pouches. On his right hip, his hammer was held in place by two heavy loops into which the handle had been slipped. The tip of the handle looked as though it had been wrapped in pink hockey tape. On his left hip, a cordless drill was stuffed into another holding loop made specifically for that purpose. I suspected there were more pouches in back, but I couldn’t see them from where I stood.
David cut a fine figure in his carpentry get-up, standing there in his gear and with a huge, red, metal tool box (also with the name ‘Davey’ painted on the lid), but I didn’t really have time to appreciate it.
“You’re in!?” Brad asked excitedly over my shoulder.
“I’m in!” David exclaimed with considerably more excitement than Brad. He bounded up the step, through the doorway, and into my arms. “Hot damn, Ted! I made it! I’m in!” Beside me, Justin and Jeremy began jumping up and down, clapping their little hands enthusiastically, and squealing happily even though they really had no idea why everyone was so thrilled. It didn’t matter, though. They just liked being happy along with everyone else.
Our hug was short. David broke away from me and grabbed Brad in an equally enormous bear hug. Justin and Jeremy were now tugging urgently on his pants legs and shouting, “Us, too, Uncle David! Hug us, too!”
David released Brad and squatted down so he could hug the boys. It was a short hug.
“What are you in, Uncle David?” Justin asked.
“I’m in Canada now,” David replied. “I can stay here and nobody can make me go back again. At least for now.”
“Did Daddy ‘dopt you, too?” Jeremy asked.
“He ‘dopted us and we can stay, too.”
“No,” David laughed, “but I wish he would. Then I’d be able to stay here forever.”
“Why can’t Daddy ‘dopt you?” Justin asked.
“Oh, he wouldn’t want to adopt me. I’m too old.”
“Can we ‘dopt you?” Justin asked.
“I wish you could, but you’re too young to ‘dopt someone as big as me.”
“Maybe Uncle Brook will ‘dopt you!” Jeremy suggested, grinning just as widely as his uncle and his brother.
“Well, there’s a thought,” David said with a smile. “Maybe he will. I’ll ask him tonight when I get home. . .” and then he added with a shout, “after work!”
He rose to his feet, turned to face me and Brad, and wrapped one arm around each of our shoulders, pulling us into a close huddle. Brad and I wrapped one arm around David’s back. Our other arm was wrapped around each other. David’s head was bowed against our chests. “Damn it, guys, I’m in. I’m on my way home and it’s all because of you. I hope you know how much I love you guys. All of you. You’ve given me a whole new life and a whole new family. I hope you know how much you mean to me.”
Meanwhile, closer to the floor of the camper, Justin and Jeremy were squeezing their way into the middle of the huddle so they could wrap their arms around David’s legs and join the hug.
David unsnapped and removed his tool belt and hard hat. The belt he set on the floor with a loud, heavy ‘kathunk’. He set the hardhat on Jeremy’s head. “You and your brother take turns wearing it, okay?” He still couldn’t tell which twin was which without someone telling him. He joined us for a mug of hot coffee before heading next door for his first day of work in Canada.
“What’s with ‘Davey’ on your hardhat?” I asked. “I got the impression that you didn’t like that name.”
“I don’t,” was David’s abrupt reply. “That’s what everybody on the crew back in Albany called me. Apparently I was too short to be worthy of ‘David’ or even ‘Dave’.”
“Why don’t you paint over it?” Brad asked curiously.
“Because Brook doesn’t want me to. He likes it. It’s sort of an inside joke, I guess. He calls me ‘Davey’ when I’m. . . .” David paused to check where the boys were and making sure they couldn’t hear him. Seeing that they were busy crouching down and examining his tool belt, he leaned in slightly to whisper wryly at us, “He calls me that when I’m making his eyes roll back in his head. Know what I’m sayin’?” He gave us a knowing wink.
I winked back. “Wink wink, nudge nudge,” I replied as I touched the side of my nose with the tip of my index finger. “Say no more.”
Over the next ten minutes, he told us all about arriving home on Tuesday evening and finding an envelope in the lobby mailbox with the words ‘Government of Canada’ clearly printed on it. He didn’t even wait until he got upstairs. He ripped it open right there in the lobby. His howl of joy, he claimed, had been heard five floors up and by one guy on the eighth floor who said he could hear it coming out of his shower drain.
“I took Brook out for dinner and drinks to celebrate,” he told us, “and then we went back home and did a bit more celebration there. I spent most of yesterday in Mr. Bennett’s office filling out all the paperwork and making sure I had the proper insurance coverage. And they had to make sure my equipment met with Canadian safety codes before they could put me on the payroll. You know, stuff like that. When I got back home, me and Brook did some more serious celebrating, too. ”
“Is that why you’re walking funny today?” Brad asked.
What a way to start the day.
Whatever holiday you celebrate, and even if you don't celebrate any of them, please, be safe, and please, please please drive carefully.
Enjoy.
Neil
WATCHING BRAD
Part 220
Part 220
The next big event following Thanksgiving was my birthday. Brad and Lindsay had been there to share the last one with me, but the twins hadn’t. They were a late birthday present by a week or two. Apparently (according to Brad) they were showing a lot of excitement and enthusiasm about being there this time until he explained to them that there wouldn’t be a circus in our front yard like the one they had on their birthday earlier that year. “Oh,” they whimpered with extreme disenchantment. The smiles on their faces disappeared faster than the last oatmeal chocolate chip cookie on the plate. Their expressions went straight to some serious disappointment and pouting. Their smiles returned, however, when Brad promised them that he would take them to the local bakery and they could pick out any cake they wanted to buy for me. They could pick out my present, too.
I could hardly wait.
Lindsay slept in the Winnebago for the last time that Thanksgiving night. The next morning, while my daughter was at school, Bernice and Terry busied themselves moving her belongings from the camper to Brad’s old bedroom in the Hayes’ home. By the time she came home from school that afternoon, her new bedroom was all set up and waiting for her.
It disturbed me that I hadn’t noticed earlier how much she had been keeping up appearances before that day, trying as she had to make the best of a difficult situation without letting me know how uncomfortable she was with it and how much she felt displaced by it. I had barely pulled into the driveway after work and had parked my car when Lindsay came running out of the front door of John and Bernice’s home much as she had done that day in July when Brad and I returned from England that fateful day. Instead of a face full of tears and terror, though, she was all smiles and excitement this time.
As I had done on that day, I knelt on one knee to greet her. She ran into my arms, wrapped hers around my neck, and gave me a huge hug before giving me an enormous smacker right on my lips. “Oh, Daddy,” she exclaimed, eagerly, “my room is so beautiful! Come see it!”
I was about to rise to my feet when Jeremy and Justin came tearing out of the camper door and headed straight for me as well. Brad followed them at a much more leisurely pace. I stayed where I was on my knee to get my warm fuzzies from the boys and to give snuggles and smooches back to them.
Brad was last, but certainly not least. Still, we managed to share a short but most enjoyable kiss before Lindsay shouted, “Daddy! Come on!”
We broke the kiss and Brad smiled at me with that delightful chipped-tooth smile of his. “Don’t be long, Pops,” he said. “I’ve got supper on the stove.”
“Don’t tell me. Leftovers.”
“Of course,” he grinned at me. “Oh, and David’s staying for supper. He wants to talk to us so I invited him to stay.”
I looked around for him. He was nowhere in sight. “Where is he?”
Brad jerked his head toward our house-under-construction. “Over there, still cleaning up. He said he wouldn’t be long.”
As if on cue, David appeared from behind the Hayes house pushing a wheelbarrow filled with scraps of lumber and other bits and bobs. He saw me and, even from across the yard, I could see his bright, cheery smile. He stopped long enough to yell, “Yo, Ted! Howzit goin’, eh?”
“Great!” I called back.
“Be over in a bit! Just a couple more loads!” And then he was off in the direction of the large red dumpster sitting on what used to be our old driveway. It looked more like a war zone at the moment. David was sounding more Canadian every day. Either he was very observant or he and Brook spent a great deal of their leisure time practicing his diction and Canadianisms. At any rate, I was dreading the day that he might see a Bob and Doug McKenzie sketch on a repeat of Second City and start calling us all ‘hosers’ and telling us to, “Take off, eh?”
Brad gave me another quick kiss, said, “I want more of that for dessert later,” then he turned toward the Winnebago while I took the twins by hand and followed my daughter into the house to see her bedroom.
John and Bernice greeted us at the front door and followed us down the hall to the guest bedroom. They stopped in the doorway and looked in after the rest of us had entered.
Lindsay’s clothes were all sorted and either hung up in her closet or put away in her chest of drawers. She was quite excited about that – not having to put her clothes in a built-in storage box under the mattress of her sofa bed. The books she’d had stored away under her clothes had been moved and placed on shelves. Her more personal treasures and ornaments were still packed in a box, waiting for Lindsay to unpack them and display them as she wished. Sadly, her collection was greatly diminished following the fire, but she cherished what we had been able to salvage and we (meaning me and brad and our friends and families) had been rebuilding the collection over time. Still, it was a small fraction of what she used to have, but no less beautiful. I noticed that the newer objects seemed to be more mature, though. Even those I had bought were more for a young lady than a little girl. As difficult as it was for me to admit, my baby was growing up.
“Grandma said she’d take me shopping after supper to buy some new sheets and stuff for the bed and some new curtains and some new paint or wallpaper.” Lindsay was exceedingly excited about that.
I glanced over my shoulder at John and Bernice. John showed no emotions, but Bernice was smiling happily. I turned to my daughter. “Sweetheart,” I said as kindly as I could, “This is your grandmother’s guestroom. Other people will be sleeping in here as well. Don’t you think the walls are and curtains are pretty enough already? Wouldn’t it be better if you just get bedding that you like and leave the walls alone so Grandma’s guests will like sleeping here, too?”
Before Lindsay could respond, Bernice spoke up. I turned my head again to look at her. “Maybe something for the wall behind the bed then? Maybe some bolder paint or some patterned wallpaper? You know, they call it a feature wall?” She looked at me hopefully. It was easy to see that she wanted to do this for her granddaughter, but it was just as important to me that she didn’t do the whole room over for just a few months of Lindsay living there and having to redo it again when our house was ready and my daughter moved out. After a few moments, she added, “I promised her, Ted. I can’t go back on my promise.”
I gave her a slight nod and smile before saying to Lindsay, “Okay, Sweetheart, but only the one wall, okay? And try to pick out something that everyone will like – and that includes Grandma, too. Not just you, okay?”
Her face lit up with her smile. “Okay, Daddy. I will.”
Brad and I sat on one side of the small table. David sat on the other side between Justin and Jeremy. They made an undeniably cute trio.
David told us all about his first Canadian Thanksgiving Day, about how he and Brook had driven to Niagara Falls. Apparently they didn’t do much sightseeing, though. The Falls took second stage to their hotel room. Ironically, they stayed in the same hotel that Brad and I had stayed in that weekend so long ago when I surprised Brad with his own box of condoms. I can still see the expression of incredulity on his face to this day. Truth be told, that moment still causes a stirring in my underwear.
Getting back to David, though. . .
“I can’t believe how different Thanksgiving is up here,” David was saying. “I mean, there aren’t any parades, no Snoopy balloons or Santa Claus float. No Thanksgiving Day sales being blasted over the tube all day long. No all-day football games. You don’t even have a Black Friday. I guess you’d call it Black Tuesday here, wouldn’t you? It’s weird having Thanksgiving Day on Monday, but it made for a nice long weekend with Brook. But Thanksgiving’s all about the family isn’t it? Nobody’s really trying to make money on it.”
“Pretty much, yeah,” I said.
“Miss it?” Brad asked curiously.
“Not a bit,” he replied as he sliced off another piece of turkey breast dripping in homemade gravy and popped it into his mouth. “I mean, I don’t mind football, really. The eye candy makes it worth watching. But not when it’s the only thing on television all afternoon and night.”
“We get the Grey Cup in November,” Brad said. “It’s the biggest game going up here except for the Stanley Cup. There’s the parade, and then there’s the pre pre-game show, the pre-game show, the pre post-game pre-game show, highlights from the past twenty Grey Cup Games, on the spot fan reactions from across all Canada, and then, if there’s any time left, they actually show the game. And then have a pre-game post-game show before the post-game show comes on. By that time, you are totally and truly zombiefied.”
David slapped his hand over his mouth to prevent his laughter from splattering his leftovers all over the table. Even then, he almost choked. I’m afraid I wouldn’t have been much help. I was laughing right along with him. So were the twins. “That is so-o-o-o-o the funniest thing I’ve ever heard!” he said when he was able to speak. “How in hell did you do that with a straight face?”
“What do you mean?” Brad asked with a puzzled look on his face. “It’s true.”
That made me and David laugh even harder. Justin and Jeremy laughed louder to keep up with us. This time, Brad joined us. He couldn’t hold his straight face any longer.
“It’s in Winnipeg this year,” Brad added when we’d finally quieted down, “but Toronto will still be filled with Grey Cup Fever. If you want to experience it first-hand, you and Brook should find yourself a bar with big-screen TVs in The Village. Talk about a party atmosphere. Especially when they flood out of the bars and into the streets after the game. If you’re not into noisy, drunken crowds swarming all over the place and squishing you to death, you can stay at home and watch it there. When the game’s over, go out on your balcony and watch the after-game party from there. It’s not quite the same as being there in person, but it’s the next-best thing. Grey Cup Weekend is almost a religion on this side of the border.”
“Do the players wear those skin-tight pants up here like they do back home?”
“Yup.”
“Hey, I’m in. There ain’t nothin’ like a nice, tight. . .”
I cut him off in mid sentence with an emphatic and warning “Ahem!” and a nod to the boys.
David glared at me. “‘End’, Ted. I was going to say ‘tight end’.”
“Yeah, right,” I replied with a smirk.
“You know me too well, Ted,” David replied with a wide, roguish grin and an impish glint in his eye. It was difficult getting angry with David. He was just as big a sweetheart as my Tiger and just as cute. “Still,” he continued, “there’s nothin’ like a nice tight end to keep the game fun and interesting, right, Brad?” And, with that, he washed down his mouthful of Mom’s stuffing with a forkful of reheated mashed potatoes as Brad laughed so hard that tears rolled down both cheeks and I turned redder than the cranberry sauce sitting on the side of my plate.
By the time we got to dessert, I realised that David still hadn’t told us his news. I questioned him on it: “I thought you wanted to tell us something.”
“I already did,” he explained matter-of-factly. “I wanted to tell you about my first Canadian Thanksgiving with Brook.”
I looked at Brad with a confused and questioning look on my face. “We fed him for that?” I said. “He could have sent us an Email.”
Justin and Jeremy didn’t get the joke, but they laughed nonetheless.
* * * * *
That night, with Justin and Jeremy sound asleep in their loft, Brad and I snuggled warmly under our comforter and, as my Gran was often keen to say, did a bit of ‘snogging’. It was always fun snogging with Brad. He was pretty damned good at it.
Later, when we were finished snogging and were simply snuggling up with each other and waiting for sleep to overtake us, Brad asked his question, and it came at me right out of nowhere: “Would you have turned gay if you’d met David before you met me?”
I was so surprised by it that wasn’t at all certain I had heard him correctly. “Say what!?”
Brad rolled up on his elbow, facing me and looking down at me. That made me feel rather uncomfortable so I propped myself up on my own elbow to look at him eye-to-eye. “You know,” he continued calmly, “you weren’t attracted to guys until you met me. Now look at us. We’re married and you’re doing things with me that you never thought of doing with a man before. Would the same thing have happened with David if you had met first?”
I tried to make light of it: “Gee-sus, Murphy, Brad, I’m not even David’s type.”
Thankfully, Brad smiled at that. “I know you aren’t, but pretend you were. Would you have done everything for David that you did for me? You know, have sex and get married? Fall in love?”
I looked down at my feet, thinking furiously of what my answer should be, and I couldn’t come up with one. After three decades of heterosexuality, I was now lying in bed with my husband. I was madly in love with him and couldn’t imagine wanting to go through the rest of my life without him. Women didn’t arouse me anymore. I wasn’t attracted to them anymore. As strange as it may seem, thinking of them as sexual objects was completely alien to me now.
David turned me on. There was no denying that. I haven’t told anyone until this moment, but when I’d seen him in our bathroom wearing only his underwear earlier that summer, that day when he’d collapsed from the effort and the heat after his arm wrestling contest with Barry, I was surprised by how utterly sexual he was. He was small in stature, but there was more man packed in that body than I could ever fill. He was the object of more erections than I care to admit to, that’s for sure. And Barry, too. Unlike David, though, Barry had been the object of not only a whole lot of erections, but a great number of my dreams and fantasies as well, especially after seeing him naked in our little pool with his hardon poking out of the water like a fleshy periscope. To this day I have no problem remembering that night. The image is permanently burnt into my brain and it can still tent my shorts.
Would I have sex with them if the opportunity presented itself with no consequences attached? Without a doubt. Brook, too. That guy had some serious sexiness going on there, especially with that voice of his. It’s easy to see why David fell for him. But would I have gone gay for any of them before I met Brad and discovered how much I enjoyed man-on-man sex? I honestly didn’t know.
I contemplated what it had been about Brad that attracted me to him so much. Of course, his endowment was a curiosity at first viewing. I mean, not many average-sized men like me can look at someone of Brad’s size without feeling a modicum of envy. Same thing when I saw him sucking himself off. I don’t think there’s a man alive who hasn’t wanted to be able to do that. I’d seen enough big dicks in my life. I’d even seen my share of men jerking off. You can’t live in a university dorm without stumbling upon someone spanking the monkey a few times a week. Still, despite my initial fascination with Brad’s ‘gift’, that wasn’t the reason I decided that I wanted to have sex with him.
So, what was it about Brad that made me fall in love with him? After a lot of subsequent, very serious and very deep, mind-probing, I came to the conclusion that it was Brad’s innocent enthusiasm, his unabashed growing affection for me, and his completely unexpected exhibitionistic streak which, apparently, was reserved just for me.
But that conclusion was reached a long time after the fact, and I probably wouldn’t have even tried to figure it out if I hadn’t decided to share our tale with the world. Back then, I could think of only one reason: what I did for Brad I did for him - not for me - because I cared enough about him to do something I would never have considered doing at the time. That night, as Brad and I talked, I realised that I wanted to have sex with David for me. I wasn’t looking for anything in return other than the pleasure of blowing him. Same with Barry and Brook. It was all for me.
For Brad, though, it was all for him. Before I could respond after those few long moments of silent thought, Brad interrupted my thoughts: “You don’t have to answer, Pops. It doesn’t really matter. I know how much you like being around David and it made me wonder if you would have turned gay for him the way you did with me. That’s all.”
“I really don’t know, Tiger. I don’t think so. Before I met you, I never looked at other men that way. Sure, I could look at men and think they were handsome or sexy, and I could admire them in a tight pair of jeans, but I never wanted to have sex with any of them. Like David. I might have thought he was cute, but I really don’t think I would have turned gay for him. Not for Barry or Brook, either. The idea wasn’t repulsive. It just wasn’t something I would have wanted to do.”
After a moment or two, Brad asked, “Why me then? What was it about me that made you want to give up having sex with women and have sex with me?”
I didn’t have to think hard to answer that one. “Because you’re the first man who ever gave me a hardon, Tiger. That first night I watched you through your bedroom window when you were blowing yourself, I wished that it was something I could do to myself. But after watching you for a few minutes, I started to think about what it would feel like if you were doing it to me. And then , after you did it again in my livingroom, I had a dream about doing it to you. It’s funny, really. If you had just stuck to jerking yourself off, I might have watched for a bit until I finished my cigarette and then I would have left you do it and gone back inside and we wouldn’t be here now. I mean, you’re not the first guy I’d ever seen jerk off. You were bigger than most of them, but you certainly weren’t the first one I saw. No. It all happened when you started sucking yourself. I couldn’t stop watching. I’d heard about it, but I’d never seen anyone doing it. I don’t know, Tiger. I liked watching you. Later, making love with you just seemed to be the natural progression of things and I discovered I liked it a lot more than with a woman. But would the same thing have happened if it was David? I think I’d have to say ‘no’.”
Brad was silent for a long half-minute or so, looking at an invisible spot somewhere in the neighbourhood of our belly buttons, before nodding once. And then he asked, “If you walked in on him jerking off now and he asked you to help him out, would you?”
I suddenly felt defeated, crestfallen. “Please don’t make me answer that, Brad. It’s you I love. Not David. Not Barry. Only you.”
Brad’s face relaxed and he smiled at me. “I love you, too, Pops,” he said with just the right amount of emotion in his voice. We leaned forward at the same time, tilting our heads in opposite directions and allowing our lips to connect in a long, tender kiss.
We turned out the lights then and snuggled together beneath the warm blankets and comforter. From the other end of the camper came the soft, distant snores of our sons. Outside, the wind whistled through the power lines and hummed through the nearly naked branches of the trees. Leaves swirled around the Winnebago as it gently rocked ever-so-slightly in the wind. I knew there wouldn’t be many leaves left on the trees by morning.
“Pops?” Brad said in a voice that only I was meant to hear.
“Yeah?” I said just as secretly.
“If I walked in on Nathan and he asked me. . . I think I might have a really hard time saying ‘no’, too.”
There are many times that I’ve felt that I didn’t deserve the love of this young man. That was one of those times.
* * * * *
The road report early the next morning reported that a jackknifed tractor trailer on the Don Valley Parkway just north of Lawrence was blocking two and a half of the three lanes and had traffic backed up well to the south of Bloor. Nobody was injured, thank goodness, but there were a whole lot of people getting nowhere in a great big hurry with more cars joining the jam with every passing minute.
We were preparing breakfast for the boys. Brad was getting their cereal ready and I was making toast. “I hope David didn’t get caught up in that,” I mentioned off-handedly.
“I’m sure he’s used to Toronto traffic by now.”
“Still, if he was on the DVP when it happened. . .” There wasn’t a need to finish that sentence. Brad knew it already.
David didn’t show up by the time I left for work and he wasn’t there when I got back home for dinner. That wasn’t unusual. Depending on Brook’s schedule, David sometimes left early so he could get to Toronto in time to get showered and dressed for an evening out with his boyfriend. At least that was usually the intent. It didn’t always work out that way. There were times when they would become preoccupied with other urgent matters which would. . . er. . . ‘arise’ and have to call the restaurant to set their reservations back an hour or two.
I remember Brad once asking them why they didn’t just make reservations for an hour or two later. Brook had replied without hesitation: “We would still have to call and move it ahead another hour or two, Brad.” With a quick jerk of his head in David’s general direction, he added, “We’re talking the Energizer Bunny on caffeine here and I still can’t find the ‘off’ switch.”
I was attacked in the yard by Justin and Jeremy shortly after I stepped out of my parked car. I crouched as they jumped into my arms and began to smother me with their kisses. I did my best to return them as I walked the short hike to the door of our motor home. Brad was holding the door open for us. I set the boys inside on the floor, stepped up the single step and through the doorway, and pulled the door closed behind me. Brad’s arms awaited me and I fell into them.
When we were finished our greetings, Brad pulled back a bit with his hands draped over my shoulders. My hands rested on his hips, holding them in place against me. “I have something to tell you, Pops,” he said in a soft, almost sultry, hormone-stimulating voice. The smile on his lips and the look in his eyes sent a whole slew of neat feelings through my body which centered themselves in the spot where our bodies touched. I could feel the soft, full mound of his crotch pressing against mine.
“What is it,” I whispered back.
Brad leaned in to whisper secretively into my ear: “Lindsay wants you to take over your laptop when we take the twins over for their bath tonight.”
I whispered into his: “Okay, I will. What’s for dinner?”
As it turned out, Lindsay wanted to show me something on the Internet that she’d heard about in class that day. As Justin and Jeremy took their baths, I sat on the sofa beside Brad as he typed the web addresses into the browser. Lindsay sat between my legs; I wrapped my arms around her. As we watched the screen, a webpage for a holiday event in Peterborough popped up. It was called The Festival of Trees, an annual charitable event in which Christmas trees, designed and decorated by volunteers, are set up in a holiday scene. For a week, the public is invited to visit the venue (for a small fee, of course) where they can enjoy the beautiful trees and all the exciting extras: a full-sized gingerbread house, a candy shop, a gift shop, a small café, and much, much more. At the end of the festival, the trees are auctioned off to the highest bidders. All proceeds go to the various healthcare units around the city.
As Brad clicked through the various photos in the photo gallery of past festivals, Lindsay twisted her head and shoulders around so she could see my face and asked, “Will you take me there, Daddy? I’d really like to see that. And there’s a Christmas show I would like to see, too.” She directed Brad to the second web address which took us to a page promoting a multi-cultural Christmas show that promised plenty of exciting entertainment from around the world. “My teacher, Mrs. Kelly, explained to us what ‘multi-cultural’ is, and my friend, Jamee, went last year. She’s going again this year. Could we go to that, too?”
“I think we could, Sweetheart,” I smiled. “I’m sure Justin and Jeremy would love to have a taste of that gingerbread house.”
Lindsay turned her gaze back to the screen and said softly, “Oh. Okay.”
I saw Brad turn his head slightly toward her and then he looked at me. “You know, Ted, it’s been ages since I’ve had time alone with Justin and Jeremy.” His eyes flicked quickly in Lindsay’s direction and then winked at me. “That would be a great time for me to take them out so they can do all their Christmas shopping. You wouldn’t mind if we stayed here and you and Lindsay go to Peterborough by yourselves, would you?”
I looked from Brad’s face to Lindsay’s. She was looking up at me again with undisguised hope in her eyes. Once again, Brad had seen and heard something I had missed and was rescuing me from disappointing my daughter. I was grateful for his lead and I followed it. “Would that be okay with you, Sweetheart?” I asked. “Just you and me?”
Lindsay’s eyes lit up with happy sparkles, a wide grin spread across her face. “Can we?” she asked excitedly.
“Sure,” I said, “if you think you can put up with me for a few days. Besides, we could take some time to do our own shopping, couldn’t we? You’ve never shopped for Christmas presents in Peterborough before, have you?”
Lindsay’s head shook back and forth. Her arms came around my neck and she hugged me as hard as she could. Over her small shoulder, Brad gave me a smile and a quick wink. How did I ever manage to get so far in life without him?
We spent the next little while ordering tickets and making reservations at the Holiday Inn which was situated on the banks of Little Lake. That was we had watched the fireworks that summer day. Brad reserved a room on the lake side for us with. It had double beds and a balcony off the room overlooked the lake. Lindsay told Brad to make sure it was on the top floor. She wanted to be as high as she could get so she could watch the sunrise.
That was Wednesday night. The very next morning, as we were preparing breakfast for Justin and Jeremy we were startled by a loud, frantic pounding on the door of the Winnebago. My first thought was that something had happened to Lindsay. I panicked. I dropped the spoons on the small kitchen counter and rushed the short distance to the vibrating door. Justin and Jeremy, scrambling down from their loft, almost beat me to it but resigned themselves to standing on either side of me when I told them to stay back. Brad joined us and stood close behind me, resting his reassuring hands on my shoulders.
I squinted through the small window into the October morning darkness, hoping to see the light from inside lighting the face of our visitor. Failing that, I was hoping to see at least the shadow of someone I recognised, but I couldn’t see anybody standing there. I was so anxious trying to get the stubborn door unlocked that I didn’t even notice how odd that was. My fumbling fingers finally managed to get the small latch unhooked and I grasped the knob, twisted, and pushed the door open, hoping like hell that the person on the other side of the door knew enough to get out of the way.
Nobody was there. Nobody. That I found odd. I was just about to step out the door when a head popped into view in the open doorway. It was David. He was wearing a grin that split his face from one side to the other and his bright eyes sparkled from the camper lights with a brilliance I had never seen before.
“Can you spare a coffee for a hard-working man?” he asked, and then and hidden hand slid a yellow hardhat with the name ‘Davey’ painted with black paint onto his head as he stepped into the frame of the open doorway. He wore his usual long-sleeved work shirt and sleeveless, flannelette work vest, his hip-hugging jeans and his steel-toed work boots, but that morning he also wore a tan-coloured, suede-leather tool belt clasped firmly over his hips. There was a large pouch on either side of his crotch, each with a slightly smaller pouch securely sewn and fastened to the front of them. The front pouches appeared to be empty, but I knew enough to know that they were reserved for holding nails and screws. The larger pouches closer to his body were filled with various tools and squares and such necessary to a carpenter. A solid-looking tape measure was tucked securely into strap above his crotch and between the two pouches. On his right hip, his hammer was held in place by two heavy loops into which the handle had been slipped. The tip of the handle looked as though it had been wrapped in pink hockey tape. On his left hip, a cordless drill was stuffed into another holding loop made specifically for that purpose. I suspected there were more pouches in back, but I couldn’t see them from where I stood.
David cut a fine figure in his carpentry get-up, standing there in his gear and with a huge, red, metal tool box (also with the name ‘Davey’ painted on the lid), but I didn’t really have time to appreciate it.
“You’re in!?” Brad asked excitedly over my shoulder.
“I’m in!” David exclaimed with considerably more excitement than Brad. He bounded up the step, through the doorway, and into my arms. “Hot damn, Ted! I made it! I’m in!” Beside me, Justin and Jeremy began jumping up and down, clapping their little hands enthusiastically, and squealing happily even though they really had no idea why everyone was so thrilled. It didn’t matter, though. They just liked being happy along with everyone else.
Our hug was short. David broke away from me and grabbed Brad in an equally enormous bear hug. Justin and Jeremy were now tugging urgently on his pants legs and shouting, “Us, too, Uncle David! Hug us, too!”
David released Brad and squatted down so he could hug the boys. It was a short hug.
“What are you in, Uncle David?” Justin asked.
“I’m in Canada now,” David replied. “I can stay here and nobody can make me go back again. At least for now.”
“Did Daddy ‘dopt you, too?” Jeremy asked.
“He ‘dopted us and we can stay, too.”
“No,” David laughed, “but I wish he would. Then I’d be able to stay here forever.”
“Why can’t Daddy ‘dopt you?” Justin asked.
“Oh, he wouldn’t want to adopt me. I’m too old.”
“Can we ‘dopt you?” Justin asked.
“I wish you could, but you’re too young to ‘dopt someone as big as me.”
“Maybe Uncle Brook will ‘dopt you!” Jeremy suggested, grinning just as widely as his uncle and his brother.
“Well, there’s a thought,” David said with a smile. “Maybe he will. I’ll ask him tonight when I get home. . .” and then he added with a shout, “after work!”
He rose to his feet, turned to face me and Brad, and wrapped one arm around each of our shoulders, pulling us into a close huddle. Brad and I wrapped one arm around David’s back. Our other arm was wrapped around each other. David’s head was bowed against our chests. “Damn it, guys, I’m in. I’m on my way home and it’s all because of you. I hope you know how much I love you guys. All of you. You’ve given me a whole new life and a whole new family. I hope you know how much you mean to me.”
Meanwhile, closer to the floor of the camper, Justin and Jeremy were squeezing their way into the middle of the huddle so they could wrap their arms around David’s legs and join the hug.
David unsnapped and removed his tool belt and hard hat. The belt he set on the floor with a loud, heavy ‘kathunk’. He set the hardhat on Jeremy’s head. “You and your brother take turns wearing it, okay?” He still couldn’t tell which twin was which without someone telling him. He joined us for a mug of hot coffee before heading next door for his first day of work in Canada.
“What’s with ‘Davey’ on your hardhat?” I asked. “I got the impression that you didn’t like that name.”
“I don’t,” was David’s abrupt reply. “That’s what everybody on the crew back in Albany called me. Apparently I was too short to be worthy of ‘David’ or even ‘Dave’.”
“Why don’t you paint over it?” Brad asked curiously.
“Because Brook doesn’t want me to. He likes it. It’s sort of an inside joke, I guess. He calls me ‘Davey’ when I’m. . . .” David paused to check where the boys were and making sure they couldn’t hear him. Seeing that they were busy crouching down and examining his tool belt, he leaned in slightly to whisper wryly at us, “He calls me that when I’m making his eyes roll back in his head. Know what I’m sayin’?” He gave us a knowing wink.
I winked back. “Wink wink, nudge nudge,” I replied as I touched the side of my nose with the tip of my index finger. “Say no more.”
Over the next ten minutes, he told us all about arriving home on Tuesday evening and finding an envelope in the lobby mailbox with the words ‘Government of Canada’ clearly printed on it. He didn’t even wait until he got upstairs. He ripped it open right there in the lobby. His howl of joy, he claimed, had been heard five floors up and by one guy on the eighth floor who said he could hear it coming out of his shower drain.
“I took Brook out for dinner and drinks to celebrate,” he told us, “and then we went back home and did a bit more celebration there. I spent most of yesterday in Mr. Bennett’s office filling out all the paperwork and making sure I had the proper insurance coverage. And they had to make sure my equipment met with Canadian safety codes before they could put me on the payroll. You know, stuff like that. When I got back home, me and Brook did some more serious celebrating, too. ”
“Is that why you’re walking funny today?” Brad asked.
What a way to start the day.
To Be Continued
Ho Ho HO!
I know your story line is only late October, but what a great Christmas present for Davey, Brook, and US!
I know you've struggled a bit as the season has changed.
Thank you for devoting so much energy to continuing your stories for us, Neil.
You paint a great picture of Peterborough's Winter Festivities for us, and the love of this extraordinary family.
I wish I could beam you down here for a day trip or two, to share in our celebrations as you have so openly invited us into your "extended family" festivities.
I know your story line is only late October, but what a great Christmas present for Davey, Brook, and US!
I know you've struggled a bit as the season has changed.
Thank you for devoting so much energy to continuing your stories for us, Neil.
You paint a great picture of Peterborough's Winter Festivities for us, and the love of this extraordinary family.
I wish I could beam you down here for a day trip or two, to share in our celebrations as you have so openly invited us into your "extended family" festivities.
Merry Christmas to you, Neil! And thank you for a wonderful installment of your terrific tale....
Welcome back Neil. It was so nice to rejoin the story.
andrew thomas
Slut
Hi Neil,
Thanks for another good chapter. When I read it. I feel like I am revisit by old friends and have so much to catch up.
Take Care and Thank you.
Thanks for another good chapter. When I read it. I feel like I am revisit by old friends and have so much to catch up.
Take Care and Thank you.
pe_gay89
Porn Star
Thanks for updating us on Ted, Brad and the gang. I always love hearing about them, and it always puts me in a good mood when it's a chapter of good news.
wyndhampaul
Slut
Happy New Year Neil' and thanks for the update
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Dear Neil,
I'm another person who registered just so I could thank you for all the delight you have given me in "Watching Brad".
I was reading continually in the days leading up to the New year. Just engrossing.
And so interesting about life in Canada especially such as the Peterborough lift apart from the weather. I looked at Google maps and my atlases.
Thanks so much, and all the best for the New Year !
I'm another person who registered just so I could thank you for all the delight you have given me in "Watching Brad".
I was reading continually in the days leading up to the New year. Just engrossing.
And so interesting about life in Canada especially such as the Peterborough lift apart from the weather. I looked at Google maps and my atlases.
Thanks so much, and all the best for the New Year !
Thank you. That's very kind of you to register just to post this. Except for one intentionally ambiguous 'city' (I don't know the region well enough to be more specific), everything and everywhere is real. (I'm pretty sure people have figured out where Ted & Brad probably live, but, as long as I don't mention a name, I can pretend that you don't.
)
Thanatos
Sex God
You always write in the most wonderful way. Thrilling, exciting, loving, caring, whatever way.
Thanks a thousand "lot".
Thanks a thousand "lot".
DA2FLBADBOYS
Virgin
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can't wait for the rest of the story it is a great story 
DeepFriedFat
Virgin
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This is AMAZING
DFF,
Welcome to JUB and the Story forum.
You found our Master Tome on a contemporary Canadian family.
Neil's a great author.
Check out the other stories on offer - both Neil's other offerings and there is a wide variety on offer.
Welcome to JUB and the Story forum.
You found our Master Tome on a contemporary Canadian family.
Neil's a great author.
Check out the other stories on offer - both Neil's other offerings and there is a wide variety on offer.
hey gsdx =D nice story ive only read chapter one but im going to finish this. I jus wanted to post because you mentioned RYERSON university woo! im currently a first year student there. =D
I mentioned it only because my older brother went there many, many years ago. (He's retired now.) Many. . . many, many, many years ago.
His son (my nephew) went there as well. Both studied engineering.
Dang, it seems like only yesterday that I discovered this stories, but it's four years ago now. I did take some time off JUB recently and Watching Brad would draw me back to the forum from time to time, so I just want to write this comment to show my appreciation for your long time dedication. Wish you all the best Neil. xD