Date: Thu, 30 Apr 2020 19:41:13 -0700 From: Joe Ballard Subject: In the Blink of an Eye, Chapter 14 Chapter 14 Dr. Winters escorted me to Drago's truck the next evening. As is common in hospitals, I was released about three hours after they told me initially. I fidgeted and couldn't sit still while they took out my IV and explained all of my new medications--first to me and then to Drago. They could have saved their breath and just explained it to Drago. I can't focus on shit these days and all of the `take two of this pill in the morning before eating, and one of this pill with food, and always take this pill on an empty stomach' confused me. Drago bought me a pill box with sections for the days of the week and times of day, thankfully. I am going to need his help. Especially if I start having side effects. Mrs. Hong, my favorite nurse, and a couple of the other nurses brought all of my stuff down and helped to load it in the car. I still think it is funny that they have to take me out in a wheelchair even though I can walk fine. Some hospital policy that they adhered to no matter how much I protested. I got hugs and kisses from my nurse friends and Dr. Winters shook my hand and made me promise to see him at least once a week, preferably twice, in spite of my father's objections. Drago said he would drive me himself. I smiled. Drago, my knight in shining armor. Ugh. When we got to Drago's house, there was a banner welcoming me home over the garage. Fuck. I don't want to cry again. That keeps happening and I'm really getting sick of it. Bill and Dianne, Drago's parents, rushed out and helped me out of the truck. Dianne hugged me first and then Bill. Then Drago. I felt so loved. It is an unusual feeling to have parents, even if they aren't mine, authentically care for me. "You look great, Alvin, come inside, we have a surprise for you," Dianne said with a sparkle in her eye. "Drago, hon, will you bring Alvin's guitar?" she said over her shoulder as she led me inside. I was flanked by Drago's parents and he stood back at the truck looking like, `what am I? Chopped liver?' Maybe he was right that his parents liked me better. Ha. Inside, there was another banner and a cake. Woo hoo, cake! It said, `Welcome Home Alvin!' inside of a picture of a brain. It is so cool. Never had a brain cake before. Dianne cut a piece for all of us and they sang, `For he's a jolly good fellow' to me. I wasn't quite sure about the song, but Drago looked really cute while he sang to me. I couldn't stop smiling. This is so great. I had to stop myself from thinking about how inept my own parents were. I didn't want to mar this awesome gift that his parents gave me--the gift of caring. We talked a little about my health and medications and how my hospital stay was. Mostly small talk while we ate cake. Mmmmm, chocolate cake. So good. I sat right next to Drago, our thighs pressed together. We'd look at one another every so often and smile. He squeezed my knee a couple of times. I saw his parents exchange a couple of smiles when they caught us being `cute'. Dianne wanted to hear me play guitar so Drago brought it to me and I started playing April Come She Will by Simon and Garfunkel. In my experience Simon and Garfunkel seem to make the ladies happy. Plus, it sounds harder to play than it really is. I transitioned into some of my own stuff. After a few minutes, I finally opened my eyes again and stopped. Dianne and Bill broke into cheers. I was surprised, but happy. They were so enthusiastic. Again, I had to stop myself from comparing them to my own parents who always seemed pained by my playing. Drago and I grinned at each other. I felt all warm and glowy inside. Dianne has a pink aura--an uplifting aura that corresponds to the heart chakra and inspires comfort in those around her. I'm still not sure why I know that. I must have read a book about it at some point, but I can't remember. Maybe in a past life? Oh, fuck. More of that new age bullshit. I held back from evaluating Bill's aura, except that it happened naturally. He has a red aura, very similar to Drago's. Passionate, restless, driven. Yes, I can definitely see the connection there. Luckily no one noticed that my mind had wandered so when I returned my focus to the conversation, I realized that we were talking about Drago's first day of school. I was minutely jealous. Or maybe a little bit more than minutely. More like insanely. I tried my best to hide that, though, and he talked about the classes he went to and who he saw. Several kids from our high school class were there, as were several of Drago's dad's acquaintances. I nodded and smiled a lot and pretended that I don't mind missing out on it. But I do. This really sucks. Drago noticed that I seemed withdrawn and changed the subject, although it wasn't exactly a fun topic to discuss either--my coming out. He explained to his parents that I was going to come out but that I didn't expect a positive outcome. "Alvin, you know that whatever happens, you are welcome here," Dianne said to me. I was shocked. I could live here? I'm dating her son. We're fucking. But she insisted. "You can't go anywhere else, in fact," she told me. I smiled gratefully. "Thanks, Dianne. I don't know that it will come to that. Frankly, with the epilepsy and the medications and stuff, I'm not sure what I can do except live at home. I can't get a job or go to school yet and I don't have any money to support myself," I said. She shook her head. "Don't worry. You can live here as long as you need and you never have to worry about money. We will take care of you regardless," she said in a tone that indicated that it was already decided. I had to control my jaw dropping propensity because this was just too much. Why would they do that for me? Just because I'm Drago's boyfriend? I don't know that I quite believe it, even though I have no reason not to believe her. Ahhh, tears again. I hugged Dianne quickly before tears started running down my face. "Absolutely, Alvin. We welcome you to stay with us and don't worry about anything else. Your job is healing and we will support you in whatever you need to get back on your feet again," Bill said. He clapped Drago on the shoulder and then the two exchanged a shoulder hug. This was just too much. How on earth did Drago get such cool parents? Was there only so much cool in the world and his parents got like a huge dose so my parents didn't get any? "Thank you both so much," I said, still trying to hold back the tears. That really needs to stop. I can't live my life tearing up at every little thing. Jeez. "Yeah, Mom and Dad, thanks. It really means a lot that you will do that for Alvin," Drago said. I looked up at him and he smiled at me. I had to pull away from Dianne because Little Alvin was feeling randy after Drago gave me that smile. I don't even think it was necessarily a sexy smile, but Little Alvin apparently didn't care. I adjusted myself discreetly. "Well, I guess I'd better go back to my house and get this over with," I said with a big sigh. If there were any way to avoid this, I would be all over it, but I can't see any way to avoid coming out to my parents. I thanked Bill and Dianne profusely and Drago and I were off. He offered to drive but it's less than four blocks and it seemed really silly to drive when we can walk faster than we could drive. We chatted about the weather on the way over. It's hot. It's always hot in late August in Boulder. But I know that Drago was trying to ease my mind before the inevitable blow up that was about to go down. I still wasn't sure Drago being there was the right move, but at this point I didn't think I could go it alone. I unlocked the front door and wondered if it was for the last time. "Hello?" I called out. I didn't hear anyone at first, but then my mom came out of the kitchen wiping her hands on a dish towel. "Oh, you brought Drago. Martin," she called out, "Alvin's brought home the Jenkins' boy," she yelled. She gave me a dirty look and went back in the kitchen. Bitch. My dad came from his den in the back of the house. "I don't understand why you keep showing up at my house, Jenkins. I'm going to ask one time for you to leave and then I'm calling the police," my dad said, reaching for his cell phone on the charger by the front door. "Please don't, Dad. I invited him and I'd like him to stay," I said before Drago and Dad exchanged words. My dad looked infuriated and Drago looked uncomfortable. This was going pretty much how I expected. Maybe even better since no one had been punched yet. "What do you want, Alvin?" my dad asked. My mom came back from the kitchen holding two martinis. I guess they're getting drunk together now. She handed one to my father and they both sat down on the couch eyeing me warily. "Uh, well, I've got something to say and I'm hoping that we can talk about it civilly," I said. My mom rolled her eyes at my dad and he drank about half his drink in one swig. "Spit it out, son, we don't have all night," he said. I looked at Drago, who nodded encouragingly. I swallowed hard. "So, I've known something for most of my life but I didn't tell you because I was scared about how you would respond. But I've gained strength from Drago because he had the same fears and he's overcome those fears and told his parents," I said. The words were inelegant and I'd hoped that what I said would be profound and beautiful, but I couldn't find the perfect words so I just said what came to mind. "I know that you, well, I don't know what you think and I can only hope that you accept what I have to say. I'm gay," I finally blurted out. My mother turned red and my father shook his head. "I think you may want to reevaluate that statement in light of what I am about to say," Dad said. "We will not have a faggot son living under our roof. You can get out and never expect to return if you choose a homosexual lifestyle," he said. "It's not a choice!" Drago exclaimed. "No one chooses to be gay. We're born this way and there's nothing wrong with it. Science has proven this time and time again and yet you keep your head in the sand and refuse to believe it," he said slowly raising his voice. "What I believe is that God created man and woman and intended them to copulate naturally to create children. I don't believe that two men copulating is natural or acceptable. I never will," Dad said, also raising his voice. Hmmm. This is still going about how I expected. "God didn't put you on earth so that you could disgrace us like this Alvin!" my mom screeched. "You have embarrassed us time and time again with your disgusting appearance and your devil music. I am mortified by your poor manners and your poor academic performance. You're lazy and you don't care how much it humiliates us to have people call you our son," she continued and then downed her drink. She turned dramatically and stormed into the kitchen. I could hear her making more drinks. Yep, disgraced, mortified, humiliated. That was a familiar mantra coming from her. Although I don't remember getting all three in one lecture before. "How can you say that about your own son?" Drago shouted after her. "He's no son of mine," my mother slurred back from the kitchen. What was she doing in there, guzzling gin straight from the bottle? "What is that supposed to mean?" I asked, finally getting a word in. "Shut up Beth," Dad yelled at my mom. "Well?" I asked. "Your mother's had too much to drink," Dad said and then approached me. Oh boy, here it comes, he's going to punch me. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Drago move so that he stood behind me. He puffed his shoulders out and looked seriously mean. I'm guessing it's one of his football looks that he gives opponents when he's about to tackle them. "That wasn't an answer," I mumbled. I wanted to be strong, but I was getting scared that my dad was about to flip out and I didn't know how that would turn out. "Look, Alvin, you don't belong here. You never did. I should have taken care of this a long time ago, but you need to pack your belongings and get out," Dad sneered in my face. "I don't need some faggot son trying to bring down the whole family. We don't want you here anymore and that goes for your queer boyfriend, too," he said and then he spit in my face. I wiped the spit from my face and stared at my hand. "You know, you're probably right. I should have left a long time ago. Maybe I could have lived with Grandma Eden and Grandpa Ken or Aunt Lucy and Uncle Leo. But staying here was definitely the worst thing I could have done," I said. I turned and walked up the stairs slowly. I think I'm in shock. I mean it really didn't go as bad as I thought, and I pretty much believed that they would kick me out, but the spit thing was a little extreme. It's not like I came home and told them I'm an axe murderer. I think there was a place deep inside of me that hoped that I was wrong about them. Hoped that they would surprise me and accept me no matter what. It's silly, but I suppose that all kids want to be accepted by their parents. I wonder what they will do when they find out that Aldon is a bigger fag than I am. I don't know if there's some kind of scale that quantifies fagginess, but if there is, he's got to be higher on the scale than I am. "By the way, Grandpa Ken and Grandma Eden wouldn't have let a faggot like you in their house, either!" my father screamed up the stairs. I thought about that for a second. Who knows? It seems that half the world or more is against gays. Maybe they wouldn't have let me live there. "And Aunt Lucy and Uncle Leo are drug addicted losers who would have abused you," my mother said from the kitchen. I don't think she knows what she's talking about. Aunt Lucy is her sister and she and Uncle Leo are dentists. I don't think they are drug addicts. And unless I'm reading it wrong, they were not likely to abuse me, whatever that meant. "Shut up, Beth!" my father shouted at Mom. "You need to get up to the faggot's room and make sure he doesn't take anything he shouldn't," Dad told her. Like what? I don't have much and what I do have, I paid for. Drago followed me up the stairs a couple of minutes later. I envisioned him and Dad having a stare-down before he came up. I set aside my electric guitar, the amp, and the rest of my guitar paraphernalia. I pulled my suitcase out of the closet and packed some clothes and managed to get my gear from the bathroom before my mother staggered into my room. "Don't you dare think about taking all of those new clothes I bought you," she said and hiccupped. "I can still return those things unless you stupidly cut all of the tags off," she said meanly. And the winner of the Mother of the Year competition goes to...Beth Jacobs! "Those are the only clothes that fit me," I said and left them in my suitcase. I packed some underwear and socks and found my only pair of dress shoes and threw them in the suitcase. I pulled a bunch of paperwork from my desk--school stuff about my scholarship and enrollment stuff, the books I'd bought at the college bookstore and would have to return, and some music I'd written. I grabbed my laptop and she flipped out. "No! You are not taking that computer. We paid for that and you cannot have it," she grabbed the end of it that I wasn't holding and tried to snatch it from my hands. If she squeezed any tighter, she was going to break it, so I let go. "It was Aldon's and I got it after you bought him a new one. So you didn't get it for me, it was a gift from Aldon," I reasoned with her. I have no idea what made me think I could reason with a drunk, but I thought I'd try. I really wanted my laptop, even if it was old. It had all of my school papers on it and all of the stuff I've written in general over the last four years. I've had it since I was a freshman. She clutched it to her chest. "Absolutely not. You don't deserve it. Not the way you've brought shame on this family," she said defiantly. Drago came up behind her and grabbed her arms. I reached out and caught the laptop before she dropped it on the floor. "I think you'll agree that Alvin should take his laptop," Drago drawled. He sounded remotely like a character from a cowboy movie. I almost laughed. "Ouch! I've been assaulted!" she wailed and grabbed her arm. "No you haven't," I assured her but she continued to wail and complain about her arm. I tried to put as much in my suitcase as I could but my dad came upstairs before I could finish going through my things. "Get out now, or I'll call the police," he said. I stopped digging under my bed and stood up. I zipped up my bag and Drago grabbed my guitar stuff. I pulled the suitcase behind me down the stairs. I grabbed my leather coat from the closet, even though it's summer because I doubt I will be allowed back to get the things I missed. I pulled on my coat and Drago and I walked out the front door. My dad slammed it shut behind us. I stood there for a moment staring at the door. I let the screen door close and joined Drago on the sidewalk. "I guess that was it," I said, still a little shook and confused. "Yeah, that was it alright," Drago said and put his arms around me. We hugged for a few minutes. My dad opened the front window and started yelling at us. "Get out from in front of my house you fags!" he shouted. How nice for the neighbors to get to hear. "Go on, get away from my house with your homosexual behavior. No one wants to see that," he said. Before I could say anything, I heard Mr. Conyers from next door open a window. "Shut up Martin, your ignorance is showing," he yelled out the window. He winked at me. I smiled back. "Thanks, Mr. Conyers," I called out to him. He nodded and then shut the window. "What are you, some kind of faggot-lover, Conyers?" my dad shouted back and then slammed the window shut. We grabbed my stuff and walked the four blocks back to Drago's house. Drago's dad was in the driveway vacuuming out his car. He saw us carrying all of my gear and ran up to take the suitcase from me. "They asked you to leave?" he said, more as a statement than a question. I nodded. "Kicked him out," Drago muttered. Bill put my suitcase down and hugged me. Again, how did Drago get so lucky as to have such amazing parents? I hugged him back because it felt so nice to have someone who cared and wasn't afraid to show it. "I'm so sorry, Alvin. C'mon, let's go inside and get you settled," he turned and took my suitcase and Drago and I followed him inside. Instead of going up to Drago's room, though, he walked to the stairs that went to the basement. "Alvin, Drago, Dianne and I would like to make you an offer. Since Grandma Stephanie moved out of the apartment downstairs three years ago, it's just sat empty. How about you boys move down there? There's a separate entrance so you can come and go as you please, and we'll still help you buy groceries and household items, but it's already furnished and like I said, it's just sat empty. I know Drago was a bit disappointed to have to live at home instead of on campus, so maybe this can be a good compromise," Bill said. I looked at Drago in shock. Our own apartment? For free? This had to be a dream. I must be in an epileptic seizure or something. This can't really be happening. Drago smiled huge. "That's amazing!" Drago shouted and picked me up and spun me around. "Put me down," I said, annoyed that he just picked me up like a piece of fluff. He and Bill laughed and Drago put me down. "You are the best parents ever," he declared and hugged his dad hard. "The best," I echoed and hugged Bill after Drago finally let go. Dianne came in from the living room and we hugged her, too. Drago spun her around, too, but she didn't seem as annoyed by it as I did. Bill opened up the basement door and explained how it could be locked from the inside so that no one from upstairs could just pop-in whenever. It was somewhat musty down there from being shut up for so long, but Dianne started opening the curtains and garden-level windows. The smells of old lady and stuffy basement started filtering out the windows as we took a look around. It was a one-bedroom apartment with a kitchen-living room combo and a fairly large bathroom between the bedroom and kitchen. There was a large sliding glass door that led onto a patio with an outdoor fireplace. A picnic table sat in front of the fireplace. The patio spread out into the yard under the deck that came off their family room upstairs. "Just bring your laundry up once a week and I'll make sure your clothes and linens get clean," Dianne was telling Drago. I went back inside and checked out the bedroom. There were two closets running along the far wall and a small window up high. I figured that we wouldn't need a big window in the bedroom since we'd spend most of our time in the living room anyway. "Oh, and there's this room over here that might be good for a desk and study lamp," Bill said, opening the door to the right of the bedroom. Inside, there was a small room that probably had been designed for storage and didn't have any windows, but would be perfect for Drago (and hopefully me) to study in. "Let's get all of the appliances plugged back in and then see if everything works. There's a microwave and Grandma Steph left all the pots and pans and dishes behind, so you shouldn't need much in that department," Dianne said as she plugged in the refrigerator. It started humming along nicely. The stove was next and it appeared to be in working order, too. There was even a dishwasher. How cool to not have to wash dishes by hand. My mom used to make me wash a lot of things by hand because when I was like five I pushed the wrong button on the dishwasher and she didn't trust me to use it properly ever again. I mean really, I was only five. What was I doing using the dishwasher, anyway? "Uh, I don't think this is going to work," Drago said looking inside the bedroom. I walked in wondering what he meant. "This bedspread is pure Grandma. I'm not sleeping on a bed with floral sheets and a floral bedspread," he said wrinkling his nose in disgust. Ha. We had some work to do to make the place ours. It was very Grandma-ish. "Why don't you boys make a list of the things you need and then you can take Bill's credit card down to the mall and pick up those things that will make this place yours," Dianne offered. What? Take Bill's credit card and go shopping? She must have misspoke. She meant that we would have to pay them back, right? I must have had a quizzical expression on my face because she came and put an arm around me. "Don't worry, Alvin. It's on us. We want you boys to be comfortable and not have to worry about the cost. We have plenty and can share it with our boys," she said. You know, when my parents refer to me or Drago as `boys' it really bothers me. It is a derogatory term when they use it. When Dianne or Bill use it, it's like a term of affection or something. This is going to take some getting used to. Drago and I ran around the apartment and frantically made a list. This is so exciting. Bill gave us his card and we hopped in the truck and took off for the mall. We went to Macy's and bought big fluffy bath towels, a new bedspread, and a bunch of other gear for our apartment. I can't believe that a couple of hours ago my parents banished me from the only home I've ever known and now Drago and I have an apartment. I know that his parents live upstairs and we aren't really paying for anything, but this is going to be the coolest thing ever! We shopped until the stores closed at 9 and we couldn't fit any more crap in the backseat of the truck. We even bought some art for the walls to replace the pictures of flowers Grandma Steph had put up. She really likes flowers, apparently. We ordered pizza and got home just as it was being delivered. Dianne came down and took all of our new towels and sheets and washed them for us so we could use them tonight. We ate pizza and put away all of our new gear. We brought stuff down from Drago's room and put the few things I was able to salvage from my parents' house away. He insisted that I put my guitars in the living room so that I can play whenever I want. We talked about buying a desk for the little bedroom. We were deliriously happy. As crappy as the situation was with my parents, this was one of the best days of my life. ### Drago had school the rest of the week, but after class on Friday, we didn't come out of the basement until Sunday night. We fucked in every room of our apartment--at least three times. We were like teenagers whose parents went away for the weekend. Alright, that's almost exactly what we were. Drago's dad brought home a desk Sunday night and that's the only reason we ended up coming out at that point, sweaty with messy hair, and me looking all fucked out. Drago's parents just laughed and asked if we needed help with anything. Yes, they laughed and didn't even blink an eye that Drago and I had been quite obviously having gratuitous sex all over the apartment for days on end. They thought it was funny. We moved the desk into the small room and set it up as a study area. Then came the bigger surprise--Drago's parents decided that they wanted a bigger TV in their living room, so they brought down their old one, a 47" with a great sound bar, to make way for their new one. We put the 19" old-style TV that used to be in our living room into the bedroom and set up the big screen on the wall opposite the sliding glass door. It dominated the room, but it was too cool. We hooked up Drago's PS4 and XBOX One and his parents offered to extend their satellite coverage to our TVs. I can't believe they are being so generous. I half wonder when I'm going to wake up. ### The next few weeks flew by. Time flies when you're having fun, or something like that. I withdrew from school and got a refund of my scholarship. The school agreed to hold my enrollment until fall of the next year so that I could get my epilepsy straightened out. I still see auras, but I've been trying to ignore it because it makes people uncomfortable. Either they think it's weird, or that I'm full of shit, or they want to have in-depth conversations about all things new age. I can do without all of that. So I pretend that I don't see them anymore. Since Aiden, James and Jamie were all out of school and didn't work in the afternoons, we practiced a lot. We found out that the scout from Los Angeles was going to be in Denver, so we set up to play a show at the Fillmore in October. It was a couple of weeks away now. The show was a diverse group of acts and we weren't sure when we would play. We'd gotten used to closing out the shows we played up north of Denver, but for this show we would probably play somewhere in the middle. For the time being, Aiden is acting as our manager. We decided that we would stick with this until we had a need for a big time manager that actually did that kind of work for a living. Aiden used his middle name so it looked like it was a different person. I'm not sure anyone bought that, especially when we showed up to venues with no manager. Drago loves school and is still working out with the football team in anticipation of playing next fall. His knee is completely healed and his shoulder is at about 75%. We workout every morning before school, in addition to what he works out with the team. I'm still blown away at his work load. Between fifteen credits of hard classes and his dedication to the football team, he still finds time to come to my shows, chauffeur me around, and spend time with me in general. Living together has been awesome. We have similar beliefs on cleaning, similar tastes in food, and we like the same video games and TV shows. After a couple of weeks of living together, we basically left the door between our place and the upstairs open all of the time. We're up there half the time anyway because his mom cooks for us and we usually watch sports with his dad on the 85" Sony 4K UHD TV with HDR. It's incredible. I can never go back to watching the Broncos on our dinky 47" TV downstairs. Ha. I was glad to have the 19" TV that was here when we moved in and now we're watching larger than life scenes with surround sound in the home theater upstairs. Dianne keeps insisting that I call her `Mom' and Bill `Dad'. I kind of want to. I just haven't quite got there yet. Dianne and I talk a lot. She's a great listener. I've told her a little bit about my head injuries and what's gone on since the accident and she is really sympathetic. But where she's really excelled is helping me deal with the fallout from me coming out to my parents. There's days I'm just depressed. Sometimes it happens because she does something really cool and I can't handle it. Why couldn't my own parents do even the smallest things to treat me better? To help me out? And even when I'm at my lowest, she holds me tight and comforts me. She listens to me and doesn't judge. I think I love her. If I wasn't already in love with Drago, I think I would fall in love with Dianne. Ha. Not really, but she's super awesome and I think I will start calling her Mom. Aiden came to pick me up for practice like usual and we went by the convenience store on the corner to pick up some sodas. My mom was in there buying gin. No surprise there, except that I thought she probably bought that at Costco in huge jugs for a discount price. Aiden stayed in the car so they didn't see one another. She gave me a look that made it appear that she had smelled something nasty. I ignored her. But she couldn't help herself and came over to me. "I hope you don't think about coming back to church because you're not welcome there," she said to me. I hadn't been to church since they kicked me out. I explained a little bit to Pastor Guy about what happened and he was understanding. He told me that I was welcome back anytime. I guess my mother and her crew are less accepting than the youth minister and worship group. Even Angelique, who I broke up with after the first weekend Drago and I lived together, was pretty accepting considering I dumped her for my boyfriend that I'd been using her to cover up. She was very sweet, although she cried, too. I felt worse than I think I've ever felt. I've talked to her a couple of times and she always asks when I'm coming back to worship group. I don't know if I'll ever go back, but I admit that I miss it. Even if those churchy-types whisper `faggot' under their breath when I walk by. I don't actually know that they do that, but that's what I imagine they do. Who knows, maybe it's just my mom and the rest of them would welcome me back with open arms. "Do I know you?" I asked her with a confused look on my face. She upped the stink-face she was making and turned away in a huff. I shook my head and went and paid for our sodas. Unfortunately, I was a dollar short, so I had to call Aiden to have him chip in for the drinks. We usually switch up who buys sodas every practice, and it sucked that I didn't have enough money this time. Money is tight for me, although Bill and Dianne keep trying to give me cash. I don't feel comfortable taking their money, so I'm often broke. And my parents were co-signers on all of my bank accounts, which were mysteriously closed after I moved out. I didn't have more than $10 in checking, and about $25 in savings, but when they closed my accounts I lost my debit card. "Please tell me you aren't supporting this faggot's homosexual lifestyle, are you Aiden?" my mom popped up from behind the chip display and both Aiden and I jumped. She's pretty scary, alright? Aiden narrowed his eyes at her. "Do I know you?" he asked and I burst out laughing. "That's what I asked her. Fucking homeless people buying booze and bothering us poor faggots just trying to get our soda in peace," I said and Aiden started laughing, too. Even the clerk started laughing. My mom looked pretty pissed off. Fuck her. Right in her ear. Aiden and I grabbed our sodas and headed out to the car. My mom paid for her gin and followed us out. "I have no son," she called out. I rolled my eyes. What a tool. "Mark my words, I have no son except for my beloved Aldon. Now there's a son a mom can be proud of. I only have one son," she modified her mantra. I got in the passenger side and we started to pull away, but we could still hear her yelling in the parking lot. "I'm so glad you aren't MY son. I couldn't take it if MY son were a faggot like you," she shouted at the back bumper as we drove away. "What did she mean by that?" Aiden asked. I shrugged. "I don't know. Drunk ramblings? She's been saying weird stuff like that for a while," I replied. "Sorry, man," he said and patted my knee. "Thanks, but you have nothing to be sorry for. Now her, she's one sorry bitch," I said. He laughed a little but still looked sad. My mom has that effect on people. I thought about what she said while we drove to Jamie's house. She's going to be awfully sad when she finds out what a faggot her `real' son is. How dare she imply that I'm not her real son because I'm gay. Like her genetics somehow didn't play a part in creating me. Crazy bitch. I wish I'd never run into her. Practice went well and we finalized our set list for the show at the Fillmore. We are going to play five songs, but we would have seven ready in case we got an encore or someone else didn't show up or something. We can play a variety of covers, so we could pretty much play indefinitely, but we've really been showcasing our original songs. Aiden and I have written a dozen songs together and there are several we wrote separately. James and Jamie don't do much writing, but they have made some helpful suggestions that improved the songs. We're a great team and I'm excited about the upcoming show. Everyone will be there, so we'll play a packed house. That scout will have to get us out to LA to sign us to his label for sure! Drago picked me up on the way home from football practice. Amazingly, Dianne makes dinner at 7:30 so that we can eat at home every day. None of this `eat on my schedule' bullshit my mom used to pull. Plus, she is the best cook. I've never eaten so well. It's no wonder I was so skinny before. With the working out and the increased calorie intake, I'm up to 130 pounds. I know, I'm still skinny. But it's all muscle, baby. Mostly. I mean as much as one can have and weigh 130. I told Drago the story about seeing my mom. He didn't look amused. "I don't like that woman," he said through clenched teeth. I have a feeling that was the nicest thing he could say about the situation. We sat quietly for a couple of minutes and then he brought up something that he'd mentioned before, but I had turned him down. "So, that whole thing with running out of money at the c-store shouldn't have happened. I really think we need to make you a co-signer or co-owner or whatever on my bank accounts and get you a debit card. That whole situation would have gone differently had you paid with a debit card," he said. I thought about what he said and reluctantly agreed. "Yeah, I just don't want you to think I'm mooching off you or something," I said. I really hate this disparity in income. I guess neither of us have any income, per se, but Drago's parents make sure he always has money and he got other scholarships besides the one from the accident so he has plenty of money for books and school stuff. I wish I could get a job. The gigs we play don't cover the cost of gas for driving down to the venue half of the time and the rest are basically volunteering to play. "You know that's bullshit. We live together. We do everything together. It just makes sense to pool our resources and share accounts. One day when you're a famous rock star and you're paying for me to go to medical school, I'll mooch off of you. It will all be even," he said with a smirk. Ha. I smirked back. "Okay, okay," I relented. "We'll go to the bank and take care of it," I said and smiled at him. He smiled and pulled into the driveway at his house. Our house. I still haven't gotten used to that. The next day Drago drove us to the Wells Fargo at the Pearl Street Mall. We spoke to an account representative who was a snotty bitch from the get-go. "Can I see your driver's license please?" she asked in a condescending tone. I handed her my state ID. "No," she handed it back, "I said your driver's license," she said slowly like I was too stupid to understand. "I can't get a driver's license because of my epilepsy, but my state ID is the same thing," I explained in a similar tone, emphasizing my epilepsy so that she would feel shitty for being a bitch. "Actually, it isn't," she said. I'm nearly positive that she's wrong about that, but I didn't say anything. "We need a real driver's license or a birth certificate," she continued. A real driver's license. Whatever. Drago and I looked at each other. Was it worth getting a manager or should we just bail on this for today and get my birth certificate and come back later? "We'll be back with the birth certificate," Drago said and we left without saying anything else. She tossed her head smugly. She's one of those people who delight in denying people services rather than doing her job. I hope one day she's in need of something and I can tell her to fuck off. I love karma like that. When we got home we told Dianne what happened. She thought we should have gotten a manager, but since I needed a copy of my birth certificate anyway--it was something my parents didn't let me take with me--she had the State of Colorado website pulled up on the computer in mere seconds. She found the order form online and had ordered it and paid for it before I could even protest. "Done and done, do you boys want anything to eat?" she asked. Of course we wanted something to eat, so she made us a snack. A couple of days later, she came down to the apartment and handed me an envelope. "Here, this came for you," she said cheerfully. I saw that it was from the State of Colorado and tore it open. "Thanks, Dianne. I really appreciate it," I said and scanned my birth certificate. I'd never seen it before. My mom kept it under lock and key so that I wouldn't lose it. Luckily, I kept my social security card in my wallet, even though it says not to carry it with you. Otherwise I would have to apply for a new one of those, too. "Uh, Dianne, I don't think this is the right birth certificate," I said after reading the names listed. "Oh? I looked it up using the social security number you gave me. What looks incorrect?" she asked. I handed it to her. "Look, instead of my mom it lists someone called Isabella Ward. I don't know who that is," I said. "Let's see, Martin Jacobs, that's your dad, and Isabella Ward?" Dianne read the name and seemed confused. "Could Beth be short for Isabella? Is Ward you mom's maiden name?" she asked. "No, my mom's name is Elizabeth and her maiden name is Nolan," I said. "So Beth isn't her middle name or anything?" Dianne asked, still looking confused. "No, her middle name is Hazel after her Grandma Hazel," I explained. "Alvin, I think you may need to speak to your father about this. As near as I can tell, this is your birth certificate but your mom is someone named Isabella Ward. Hey, I have an idea. Let's look her up on Google," Dianne said excitedly. I think she liked the idea of a mystery. I felt like someone had punched me in the stomach. My mom had been talking a lot lately about how `I'm no son of hers' and variations on that theme. It looked like she was telling the truth. Someone else was listed on my birth certificate as my mother. How was that possible, though? "Yeah, let's look her up," I said somewhat reluctantly. I wasn't sure I wanted to know who this other woman was. We ran upstairs and Dianne had her computer on in an instant. In moments she searched for Isabella Ward and there were quite a few results. Dianne seemed to be having fun, narrowing down the results, playing detective. I sat and waited, questions running through my head. "Oh, I think this is it, I think this is the Isabella we are looking for," she exclaimed. She turned the monitor toward me and showed me an article about a woman from Weld, County. She has twin sons who were being tried as adults even though they were only seventeen years old--because of their lengthy criminal histories. This is my real mom? I scrolled down and Dianne gasped. "What?" I asked. She pointed to the picture of Isabella Ward and her twin sons Dexter and Baxter. I stared at the picture for a full minute. I look exactly like her sons. I mean we could be triplets. Except that they are a year younger than me. And we all share one thing in common with Isabella--big, brown eyes with extra-long eyelashes. "I look just like them, don't I?" I finally managed to squeak out. Dianne pulled me into a hug. "Yes, you do. I believe we may have found your mom," she said holding me close. I rested my ear on her chest and listened to her heart beat. I couldn't form a sentence. All I could think was, no wonder. No wonder my mom was always distant. No wonder she says things about how I'm no son of hers. No wonder she said terrible things about me for no reason. I'm not her son. Somehow, Isabella Ward is my mom but I was never told. "What do I do now?" I asked, willing away tears. "Well, I'm not sure that your father will talk to you, but I believe that's a good starting place. I suppose you could attempt to contact Isabella. She lives in Greeley, it looks like," Dianne said typing things into the computer. "This site will do a background check on her for $25 and we'll get her most recent address and phone number," she said. "I think we should do it," she told me. I nodded but was distracted by my thoughts. I could hear Dianne typing on her keyboard but I started zoning out. ### I woke up in bed the next morning. After my seizure, as I know to call them now, Dianne called Drago and he rushed home to get me into bed. I don't have to go to the hospital anymore when I have seizures--Drago was trained on what to do to help me. He's training his mom and dad now. Dianne filled him in on the whole `mom' thing. The truth is, I just want Dianne to be my mom. I don't want another mom. I want to forget all about the one who raised me and the one who apparently gave me away. I get the vibe that Dianne and Drago aren't going to let me do that, though. I got up and took my meds that Drago left out for me with explicit directions for how and when to take them. Wednesdays are his busiest day between classes and practice, so he left early and wouldn't be home until late. He programmed my phone to alert me when I'm supposed to take my meds and again five minutes later just in case I ignored the first alarm. He also texts me periodically to make sure that I've taken the right amounts. I know he's doing it because I'm so lackadaisical about, well, everything lately. Now, I have a whole new stressor. It's frustrating that he's constantly reminding me of stuff and bugging me to take this pill or make that phone call. I actually wrote myself a note that says `Drago does it because he loves me' and put it in a couple different places in our apartment. I wandered upstairs and Dianne made me breakfast. I didn't talk much and she didn't push me to talk. She is so intuitive. She knows when to push and when to leave me alone. She's such a blessing. After moping around the apartment all morning I decided to call my dad's office and make an appointment. He can't avoid me if I have an appointment, right? I hope so anyway. Maybe he'll tell me the truth and maybe he won't but I have to try. At first I didn't think I wanted to know, but my curiosity has me seeking out answers. My curiosity has always gotten me in trouble and this is probably no different. My dad's secretary seemed surprised that I wanted an appointment, but made it nonetheless. Unexpectedly, she scheduled it for this afternoon. I texted Aiden and he agreed to drive me to the appointment. He said he would sit in the waiting area just in case things got heated between me and my dad. I didn't tell him why I'm meeting with my dad yet. I'm not ready to announce that to the world. Not that I would anyway, but I feel like keeping it a secret for now. Drago and his parents know. Our parents? I feel like they are my parents, too, and Drago is all for that. I'm still not used to having a supportive home life. Sometimes I wonder if they could possibly be this genuine or if they are stringing me along for some reason. Man, the people who raised me fucked up my brain big time. Aiden and I walked into my dad's office five minutes early. There isn't really a waiting area, but several chairs sit alongside his secretary's desk. They don't get visitors much, I guess. She's actually the office manager and she works for all six of the engineers in my dad's firm. They are all partners in the firm and have worked together for almost twenty years. I looked around and realized that I haven't seen anyone from the firm since I was probably sixteen years old. I suppose that's because Aldon graduated from high school that year and my dad never brought me by myself to the firm's events outside the office. Jeez. He and Beth, the woman formerly known as my mom--I don't really know what to call them anymore--hid me away like I was some kind of freak. And back then, I barely qualified. Ha. Dr. Winters keeps telling me that I'm not supposed to call myself a freak, but I find it humorous. Ms. Martinez, the admin, told me I could go in at exactly 2:30. I stood up slowly and looked at Aiden. "Want me to come along?" he asked. What a good friend he is. "Naw, man. I'll be out pretty quick," I said and we fist bumped. I walked into the office and my dad looked up to greet me. "Oh. Uh, I have an appointment right now, Alvin. You'll have to come back some other time," he said looking annoyed. "I am your appointment, Dad," I said, equally annoyed. "Why?" he asked with a puzzled look. Why, indeed. "So, can I sit down?" I asked, looking toward the chairs in front of his desk. "Be my guest," he said sarcastically. I resisted rolling my eyes and sat down and looked around. There were maps on every wall with various markings and tacks stuck in them. My dad knows more about building in Colorado than possibly anyone else in the state. He used to tell us about crazy builders who wanted to fill in the gullies and build on top of them and how that would cause rampant flooding. As kids, we played in the gullies all the time, so that sounded lame to me. He had all sorts of stories about builders wanting to take advantage of cheap land that was unsuitable for building. They always had a quick fix. Which meant that they would make a ton of money and then get out before the quick fix failed. It was Dad's job to prevent them from building to begin with. I think he likes telling people `no.' He's one of those people like the woman at the bank. "So, I got a copy of my birth certificate," I said and stopped. I wanted to see what his reaction was. He just looked back at me with a blank expression. Huh. I guess I will have to elaborate. "And your wife is not listed as my mother," I continued. He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. "I knew you would find out eventually. Your mother, er, my wife, as you referred to her, thought we could keep it a secret. So, what do you want?" he said. "I want to know what happened? Why I have a different mom than Aldon. Why I wasn't told," I said. Duh. Why else would I bring it up? He took a big deep breath and released it slowly. I thought he was buying time to try and figure out what to tell me. "Okay, so after Aldon was born, your, uh, Beth, had severe postpartum depression. There wasn't as much information about it back then, so the doctors told us to wait it out and she would be fine as long as she kept breast feeding. Well, she had nothing but trouble with breastfeeding. That, and she developed an infection after giving birth and we found out shortly afterward that she couldn't have any more children. She always wanted a boy and a girl and now she wasn't going to be able to have the girl she dreamed of. She started drinking heavily," he paused and rubbed his forehead again. I felt bad for him. He looked like these memories were painful. I hate that my origin story is painful for him. For his sake and for mine. After a moment, he continued. "I came home and found her passed out and the baby crawling on the floor next to her. She promised not to do it again, but then it happened again. And again. At that point, the doctors recommended rehab. So she packed up and moved into rehab for a three-month stay. Since I had to keep working to pay for her rehab and our house and the new baby, I hired a young woman to stay with us--a nanny and housekeeper, I suppose. Her name was Isabella and she was seventeen. She'd dropped out of school and needed the job, so I hired her on the spot," he said. I couldn't believe it. Isabella was Aldon's nanny? She was seventeen? "The longer your mom, er, Beth was gone, the more I got to know Isabella. She was beautiful and funny. She cooked better than Beth. I, well, I fell in love with her. I didn't tell her right away. It was after a visit with Beth that went poorly that I came home angry and depressed and she comforted me. I knew right then that I was going to make love to her. And I did. And we kept doing it up until Beth was released from rehab. I was devastated when she left. I managed to get Beth to let Isabella stay on as part-time help while Beth transitioned from rehab, but Beth took an instant dislike to Izzie--that was my nickname for her. Beth would pick fights with Izzie and constantly criticized her. She said that Izzie was white trash and stupid and she wouldn't have her baby exposed to such a foul person. I always defended Izzie and that drove Beth crazy. "Finally, Izzie left one day after Beth said some truly terrible things to her. I never really found out what was said, but Beth seemed awfully pleased with herself that she'd finally driven away Isabella. About a month later, Izzie called me and told me she was pregnant. I knew it was mine. I took responsibility and I told Beth. I think somewhere inside of me I believed that Beth would leave and Isabella and I would raise Aldon and you together. I have no idea why I thought that, because Beth threw a huge fit and told me she was taking Aldon and leaving me. I managed to talk her out of that because I promised her that she would get Isabella's baby. I don't know why I said that. But she suddenly changed her attitude. Beth was excited about the baby because she was sure she was getting the baby girl that she wanted so desperately but couldn't have on her own. I talked to Isabella and at first she refused, but as the due date came closer and she realized that she had no help in raising a child at seventeen years of age, she eventually agreed to let us raise the baby as our own. She signed a document releasing all parental rights and Beth became your mother. "Of course, Beth was incredibly disappointed that you were a boy. And that you looked so similar to Isabella. You have her eyes, you know," I nodded. He seemed like he was off in his own world reliving these memories. I let him talk and tried to take in everything he said. I didn't want to forget a single detail. "Beth just couldn't get over you looking like her and having her traits--she's a wonderful piano player, by the way, you get your music from her. And your personality is so much like hers. Physically you take after her side of the family--that's why you and Aldon don't look as much alike," he said. "Is that why he's circumcised and I'm not?" I asked. Dad looked surprised, but nodded. "Yes, another point of contention between Beth and Izzie. Beth believed very strongly in circumcision and Izzie was just as dead set against it. Beth threatened to have it done all the way up until you were probably 4 or 5 and then she finally let it go. I wouldn't let her, you know," he said. Things about my childhood started making sense. "So Mom, I mean Beth, never liked me?" I asked in a small voice. "Well, that's hard to say. I think she felt guilty about not loving you more. She did love you, but she didn't especially like you. You reminded her of my infidelity, of a woman she hated, of her failures. It had more to do with her than you. And I had a broken heart when Isabella left. I stayed with Beth because she was a mother to my sons. But she quite obviously favored `her' son and often shunned you. I stayed at work as much as I could and I failed you, Alvin. I failed you because I stayed away. And because I favored Aldon to make Beth happy. He was so much more like me and I could relate to him. I played football, he played football. I went to Penn for engineering, he's going to Penn for engineering. I like women, he likes women," I cringed when Dad said the last thing about women. First off, he meant that I was gay and that he couldn't relate to me because of it, and secondly because Aldon likes something entirely different from women. Dad didn't notice, though and kept talking. "Beth noticed quite early that you were...different. She told me that she thought you were gay as early as five years old. I didn't believe her and kept denying it. She kept bringing it up to the point that I banned her from saying it anymore. She stopped mentioning it, but went on tirades about how being gay is wrong and deviant. I let it go because fighting with her was so exhausting. I just couldn't do it all of the time and I couldn't leave her or I'd never see my sons again. I worried that if she had you to herself, she would damage you more than she was already. Beth was adamant that you never find out about Isabella. I don't really know her reasoning, but I suspect that she wanted to punish Izzie. To take away the one thing that she could give me that Beth couldn't--a child. I'm glad you found out, though, Alvin. I never wanted to hurt you. I should have done more, but I didn't and I failed you. I apologize for that," he said. I was shocked. The last thing I thought would happen was my dad apologizing to me. I sat there dazed for several minutes trying to piece together my life as I knew it with what my dad just told me. "Do you have questions?" he asked after some time had passed. "Who am I named for?" I blurted out. Probably not the most relevant or important question, but one that had been on my mind since Nyles, the Macy's employee, asked before school started. "Ahhh," Dad said and smiled. "Alvin was Isabella's father. Quite the coincidence that you and Aldon were named for your grandfathers and that you have such similar names, eh?" he said. "Mom, Beth, whatever, said that I was named for my grandfather and I couldn't figure out what she was talking about. I thought she had me and Aldon confused or something. She's been drinking a lot lately," I said. Dad nodded. "Yes, after your accident, she started drinking again. She got involved in the church and those ladies often have a glass of wine with lunch and a before-dinner drink, and an after-dinner drink, and a night-cap. She started keeping up with their drinking habits and suddenly I've been finding her passed out again. Since you've been gone, it's gotten quite a bit worse. She's withdrawn from the church, as well," Dad said. "She doesn't deal with stress well," I commented. Dad nodded. "No, she's...mal-adjusted, I guess is what I would call it. And it doesn't make a lot of sense because her parents were good people--are good, Grandpa Aldon is still with us, of course," Dad said. I thought `mal-adjusted' was putting it mildly. Crazy in her fucking pants was more like it, but I'm not a doctor. I sat and thought some more. "So, Dad," I said hesitantly. "Yes, son?" he asked. "Why did you kick me out? Why did you call me those names and treat me so bad?" I asked sadly. Plus, he knew his wife was treating me badly and did nothing to stop it. Why? "Son, I did it for two reasons," he said. I wondered why he kept calling me `son'? The last time we talked it was like he couldn't get rid of me fast enough. Couldn't wait to disown me. Deny my existence. "I had to get you away from your mother, uh, my wife, before she did something really bad to hurt you. And secondly, I just couldn't accept that you were gay even though it was quite clear from your behavior and everything I observed..." he trailed off. "You know, I had a dream after one of my seizures and I remembered you being there after the accident. You were yelling at everyone that they couldn't say anything about me and Drago. The fire chief, or whatever, came over to calm you down. You seemed really worried that the official records would show that Drago and I were fagging out, or something," I said without looking at him. "I'm sorry Alvin. I've handled many aspects of your coming out very poorly. That incident being one of the worst. I let some of what your mother, er, Beth spouted for all of these years color what I know to be true. You're a good man, Alvin, but I struggle with your decision to be gay," "It isn't a decision, Dad!" I said loudly, now able to look him directly in the eyes. "It's not like I weighed out the pros and cons of being gay and was like, `I'm going to be gay even though everyone hates gays. I'll do it just to piss everyone off." "I know, Alvin, I know," Dad said. "I don't know how to talk about this. I've gotten the message for so many years that being gay is wrong and is a choice that I just don't know what to say. I say the wrong things without meaning to," he told me. I paused. I actually feel like that a lot. I started thinking about how I actually have a lot in common with my dad. I often think that we're nothing alike, but then something like this happens and I see these common threads. I often feel like I don't know what to say or how to talk about things with people. Not just about being gay, but about most things. Maybe it's a family trait, instead of being a personality flaw on my part. "Are you going to contact Isabella?" my dad asked. He looked cautiously optimistic. I wondered if he would try to contact her, too. "Um, I think so," I said. "I found her. She lives in Greeley. It seems like she hasn't had it all that easy, so I don't want to contact her and bring up a bunch of bad memories," I told him. He shook his head. "No, son, I don't think that it will be a bad thing to contact her. I believe that she will be quite happy to see you. Maybe the three of us could get together," he said. I'm pretty sure my dad is daydreaming about the three of us becoming a family. I wonder if I'm gay in these dreams? Maybe Drago is there, ha. Probably not. Sometimes I wonder if my dad thinks that Drago turned me gay. "Huh. Well, maybe I'll call her or something. Landry goes to UNC so maybe I could go up to visit him and stop by and meet her," I said. Dad nodded. "That sounds like a great idea, Alvin," my dad said. He stood up. I guess our meeting is over. I stood up, too and he reached out to shake my hand. I guess a hug is still out of the question, but it feels weird shaking my dad's hand. So impersonal. I think that he's coming to terms with me and my gayness and all that, but other times it feels like he's pulling away. Internal conflict on his part, I suppose. Maybe I'm too hard on him. Have too high of expectations. He's only human and he's bound to make mistakes. Just because he's my dad doesn't mean he has all of the answers. "Thanks for, uh, this," I said. It felt awkward again. We broke our handshake and I turned to walk out. He sat back at his desk and ruffled some papers. Were we always going to end up uncomfortable around one another? I walked out and Aiden stood up. He looked relieved that I wasn't a mess or anything. I smiled and he smiled back. "Ready?" he asked. I nodded. "Uh, bye Mrs. Martinez," I said to the admin. She got up and gave me a hug. Weird. My dad's secretary can give me hugs, but he can't. I hugged her back. "It's been really great to see you, Alvin. And your boyfriend is very cute," she said, winking at me. "Oh, uh, Aiden isn't my, uh, I'm dating Drago..." I couldn't spit it out because it surprised me so much. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I just thought..." she looked to Aiden and back at me. "I didn't know...wait, Drago Jenkins? Bill and Dianne's boy?" she said. I forgave the `boy' comment since Mrs. Martinez is in her sixties, and I nodded. "Yeah, Drago Jenkins," I repeated. She smiled big and patted me on the back. "He's a wonderful young man. I've known his family for many years," she told me. I smiled and turned to Aiden. "Well, we really need to be going," I said. See what I mean, totally awkward with people even when they are being nice and normal. "Alright, Alvin. So good to see you," she hugged me again and when I finally extricated myself from her grip, Aiden and I took off to the elevators. "What did you say to her?" I whispered to him while we waited for the elevator. "Not much, really," he said. We bumped shoulders and fooled around while we waited. Even though I'm with Drago now, Aiden and I still play grab ass and flirt. I suppose that didn't really help Mrs. Martinez's view that Aiden is my boyfriend. Maybe I need to knock that off. Fuck. I don't really want to knock that off. "Sure, sure. Everyone knows that you want me," I said, giving him a smoldering look. I raised an eyebrow and looked into his eyes. "Stop that, you look like The Rock," he said giggling. Asshat. The Rock. That's like the opposite of what I look like. "Fuck you," I whispered and bumped his shoulder with mine. We looked at each other for a moment. I would have kissed him (sorry Drago, I know better than that) except that my dad came rushing out of his office at that moment. "Alvin, wait!" he called out. The elevator arrived and since there was no one on it, I put my arm out to hold it. "If you contact Isabella, will you give her my card?" he handed me his business card. He'd written his cell number on it. "Sure," I said and tucked the card in my wallet. "I'll, uh, see you around, I guess," I said. To my great surprise, my dad came over and gave me a side hug. "I'd like that," he replied. I got on the elevator and the doors closed. "Secret sister?" Aiden asked. I looked at him in surprise. "No, secret mom," I said. His eyes widened. "No, way!" he exclaimed. "Oh, yes, way. I just found out and Dad confirmed it," I told him. "Wow. That's like mind blowing," he said. We rode the rest of the way in silence. While we walked out to the car, he turned and smiled at me. "You were gonna kiss me," he said. I blushed. I hate that. "Yeah," I agreed. "You are my boyfriend, after all," I said and shoved him. He shoved me back. "I don't know why she said that, I swear," he told me and we got in the car. "I know," I said back. "Hey, do you mind taking me home? I know we've got the big show coming but I'm really tired. We'll practice tomorrow, okay?" I said emphasizing what I'd said with a huge yawn. I think my meds are causing me to be tired. Fatigued, or whatever Dr. Winters called it. "Sure, man. Want some company in bed?" he asked, now giving me his best impression of The Rock. I laughed. "No, thanks Dwayne," I told him. He laughed, too, and then took me home. We did hold hands. I've really got to quit flirting with him. I'm on dangerous ground here.