Four Friends (31 page)

“Okay, let me put it another way. I love Andy. There’s no question about that. Oh, damn.” He laughed. “I’m afraid I just told you before I told her—I should’ve been more careful about that. But I can understand if you have concerns about her feelings, so you need to know mine. I love her. Really, this is kind of new for me. I loved a woman before. I was married about ten years ago and I still love that girl—real special woman. But it was nothing like this. I love Andy in a way I never thought I’d get to experience. I want to give Andy everything I have. I want to be the best partner she could imagine. Just thinking that way, I realized the most important thing I can give her is my complete love and commitment for as long as she wants it. But I’ll never make your mom feel boxed in by anything, by anyone. All I want is for her to be happy every day of her life.”

“No strings? Is that it?”

“Not exactly,” Bob said, shaking his head. “That would sound like I don’t care all that much, that I don’t want to be tied down. I couldn’t care more, that’s the truth. But I want the way I love her to be unconditional. I accept her, admire her, exactly the way she is. Not like she belongs to me—she’ll never be property. Not like I have some claim on her—although,” he chuckled, “she sure has a solid claim on me. No, son, I love her too much to make demands on her, to tie her up. With me, without me, it doesn’t matter—I’ll love her just the same.” Then he smiled broadly. “If it’s with me, that’s twice as good, of course. Because I haven’t been this happy in my life.”

“You’re saying it wouldn’t bother you if she, like, dumped you?” Noel asked.

Bob shook his head. “I’m not a hero, boy. Just an ordinary guy. It would bother me, you bet. I’d miss her so much. But Andy deserves to have everything she wants, everything that makes her happy. When you really love someone, Noel, you don’t concentrate on whether or not they’re perfect or meet your expectations or behave in exactly the way
you’d
like. You just think about how lucky you are to have them in your life, and want them to have whatever is good for
them.
You hold them in an open hand, Noel. It’s kind of like the way your mom feels about you—but more romantic.”

“Feels...about...me?”

“You know. You’re clear on that. There’s nothing you could do to make her not love you, not stick by you. Nothing in the world. I know a fellow like you, going through a rough patch right now—you can appreciate that kind of commitment. That kind of love. It’s deep and real.”

Noel sat up straight. Shock registered on his face.

“I guess you haven’t been thinking that way too much,” Bob said. “I’m not surprised. When someone feels that way about you, one of the first things you do is get used to it, expect it to always be there because it always was. You can depend on it. But every so often something will come up to make you just a little afraid that person might stop loving you that way, accepting you that way, and it’s a reminder about how good it is. You know what I mean.”

“You mean my dad,” he said.

“It’s not an easy thing, Noel. To love someone without any selfishness, without a personal agenda. It takes thought and heart. Sacrifice and courage, sometimes. People can get mixed up about what’s the most important thing—their own personal needs or the needs of the person they love. I think that must be what happened to your dad. He’s mixed up. We’re not perfect, you know. Human beings—so fallible.”

“Yeah, right,” Noel snorted. “Mixed up, my ass.”

“Well, maybe I give the man too much credit,” Bob admitted. “I don’t know him, after all. And I never had kids so I could be talking out of turn, but my grandmother used to say, ‘Your kids don’t belong to you—they’re only on loan for you to raise. They have their own lives, their own destinies. So you better get out of the way.’ She was a real hot chick, my grandma.”

“You shocked?” he asked. “About my
rough patch,
as you call it?” Noel asked, a note of challenge in his voice.

“When I said rough patch, I didn’t mean you being gay. I meant having a standoff with your dad, who I’m sure you love a lot. That’s tough. I’m real sorry you’re going through that. And I can’t think what you can do about it. You can’t change him any more than he can change you.”

“But me being gay? That doesn’t
bother
you?”

Bob shrugged. “It’s no different than if you showed up blond, or black or Chinese. Listen, you’re not like everyone else, all right? Me, either. And so the fuck what?” Noel’s eyes grew large at the curse. “Life—it’s a kaleidoscope. Your mom might’ve contributed the green, your dad the red, but you’ve got colors in there that come from just anywhere—even from old second cousins twice removed. You’re not sick, you’re gay. With black curly hair. Every turn of the wheel is its own creation.”

“And you get along with gay guys?” Noel asked.

“Just fine,” Bob said.

“You bi or something?”

He laughed. “No, whenever I felt an attraction, it was always to a female. I didn’t have a choice. You’re not going to change that about me and I’m not going to change that about you.”

Noel laughed and shook his head. “Most guys your age aren’t like that,” he said. “Most guys your age hate anything that doesn’t fit into their idea of what’s okay.”

“Yeah? I learned a little patience. Sad truth is, you get to learn that by the hard times. It’s too bad. If I was in charge, we’d get insight from the fun stuff.”

Noel took a sip from his cup. “My coffee went cold.”

“Go pitch it and pour some fresh. There’s plenty of coffee in the house.”

“So—you learned a little patience. Got any advice?”

“I might,” Bob said. “Doesn’t usually appeal to men under forty, though.”

“Try me.”

“Well,” Bob said, leaning forward. “I’d say, you stay as true to yourself as you can, try to be a good man, and go easy on the people who just can’t seem to make it in the world without being mad about something. I figure, they have it a lot tougher. Being angry—that’s hard work. Hard on the heart.”

Noel relaxed in his chair. He scratched Beau’s ears. It made Bob smile. A good old dog who appreciated a little stroking was so good for a mood, a perspective.

“My mom’s worried about me being gay,” Noel said.

“Nah,” Bob said.

“Yeah, she is. She told me some of her worries.”

“I shouldn’t speak for Andy, but if I heard her right, she’s worried about it being hard on you to be just who you are. And she’s worried about people filled with hate, hoping that doesn’t get turned on you in any way. Anyone would worry about that. I have a sister with a son in the army. He went to Afghanistan. Her worries are pretty much the same. Of course, it won’t help to worry—but sometimes when it’s your boy, your pride and joy, you just can’t help it—you want only good things for him. You hate to think he’d ever have to suffer in any way.”

Noel looked at Bob and grinned. “So,” he said. “You love my mother, huh?”

“Oh, kid.” Bob laughed. “I do. I think she’s the most wonderful person I’ve ever met. I love listening to her talk, laugh. She tells great stories. Brings great stories out of me. And you know what? I look in the mirror or get down on my knees to do tile or heft up some big heavy shelf, I know I’m getting old—full of creaks, all gray and bald, a little more flesh than I need...but when I’m with Andy, just out to dinner or sitting right here in this beautiful weather, talking, laughing—I swear to God I feel twenty-one.”

Noel laughed. “Well, you’re not.”

“But isn’t it terrific when you’re with someone who can bring out your best self? I think that’s the sign of a true friend, when they make you feel better when you’re with them than you ever had a chance of feeling without them.”

“Think she loves you back?” Noel asked, grinning.

“We haven’t said those words yet—you got it first. I might get in trouble for that. I’m not good at this stuff. I’m
very
inexperienced. But the way she is with me, if it isn’t love, it’s damn sure close enough for me. Your mom, she’s one of the best people in the world. But you already know that.”

Noel dropped his chin. “She always put me first,” he said without looking up. “Even when it meant she was alone, stuck with some little kid, she really always put me first....”

“It wasn’t a sacrifice for her, Noel,” Bob said earnestly. “I’m sure it came naturally. I think that’s how it is with most mothers, at least my sisters say so. Once you have that child, those children, it would be very hard to do anything else. You don’t have anything to pay back for that.”

“Kind of lets me off the hook.”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t tell her you appreciate it. Also, you could let her know that except for this bad spot you have going on with your dad, you’re okay. Happy. You are happy, aren’t you?”

“Most of the time,” he said. “I have some good friends. No one special, but that doesn’t mean there won’t be. I’d hate to wait as long as you....”

“You won’t.” Bob laughed. “Hardly anyone is as introverted as me. You know, I was planning to be a teacher once. Professor. That was my goal. Then I started building things and it suited me—I think because I wasn’t intimidated by the wood, the cement, and I was confident there. But you’re not like that. You have all that personality, and guts. Son, it takes guts to face up to things the way you have. Lift your chin and be yourself. People will like you for who you are.”

“You sure don’t seem like an introvert. You’re kind of, I don’t know, up-front.”

“With you,” Bob said. “I’m better one-on-one. And you’re Andy’s boy. You’re good stock. It’s pretty easy for me to feel comfortable with you. Safe.”

Noel was quiet for a second. “I think I’ll pitch this coffee, get some hot.”

“Good idea,” Bob said. “I could use a fresher, too. And I think Beau looks like he’s in the mood for a biscuit. You know where Andy keeps ’em?”

“No.”

“Then I better show you. I think he might start counting on you for a treat.”

“That’d be okay.”

Bob draped an arm around Noel’s shoulders and walked with him into the house. “Beau’s a real good judge of character, you know. Dogs are like that. It doesn’t matter what people say, how they act or look, dogs can see into a person’s soul. They growl at a perfectly civil-looking person and it should serve as a warning—dogs know. But Beau, he took to you immediately. I guess that stands for something.”

“You’re full of so much shit, Bob,” Noel said.

Bob laughed. “But don’t I talk a good game?”

“I just hope you’re telling the truth about how you feel about my mom, because I can’t stand to think of her with some loser.”

“One thing about me, I have a hard time making up lies. You’ll get that after you know me awhile. I’ve always been like that. I just spit it out, the truth about anything. I got arrested that way once—when I was about your age, in college. A cop asked me, ‘Is that marijuana you got there, boy?’ and I answered, ‘Yes, sir. I’m sure sorry, sir.’”

“No shit? You?”

“Unfortunately that’s no shit...” He laughed. “But I really believe that stuff about dogs. Don’t you?”

Noel laughed and headed for the coffeepot. “Whatever you say, Bob.”

* * *

There was one nice thing about summer—Gerri didn’t have to race around, getting kids out of bed, prodding them into the car for school, breaking up fights, trying to block snipes and arguments in the car. She enjoyed having the house quiet first thing in the morning.

And that was where the nice thing about summer ended as far as she was concerned.

Gerri had the kids programmed to check in before leaving the house, reporting their activities and locations. And they had additional reasons to talk to their mother—questions like how much detergent goes in the washer, why isn’t there any lunch meat, where are the extra rolls of toilet paper, can you stop on the way home and get any number of unnecessary items. Her phone rang all day long or bleeped at incoming texts. It was all she could do to keep from losing her temper and demand they stop calling. But when they stopped, it signaled worse trouble.

She left them lists of chores every morning—with kids around the house all day, the place was crumbling in no time. Jed had a summer job at a local restaurant, working evenings, so he slept late and did little or nothing all day long, then ate almost everything in sight before heading off to work.

The phone rang and she glanced at her watch, hoping it was some charity or political tape she could hang up on. When she answered, she heard her mother-in-law’s chipper voice. “Darling! I caught you before work!”

“Minutes before, but for you I’d even be late. How are you, Muriel?”

“Torn, that’s how I am. We’re all packed up in San Miguel, heading for two months in Maui, but I just don’t feel right about it. I think I should come there—help out for the summer.”

Gerri laughed. “That’s very tempting. A live-in drill master sounds like just the thing, but—”

“Settled! I’ll send Stan to Maui and get on the next flight!”

“You can’t, Muriel,” Gerri said. “It wouldn’t work. Please, don’t take this personally—if my own mother was still alive, I wouldn’t let her come now, either. Really, Phil and I need the time—we’re just starting to really talk about things. I have to know where it’s going.” She took a breath. “Although I admit, it would be fun to watch you glare at him for a couple of months.”

“I don’t have to harangue him, darling. I could manage to be civil. At least when the children are present.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were enjoying this....”

“Gerri, dearest, are you and my wayward son making any progress?”

“What has Phil told you?”

She laughed. “You’re kidding! He won’t give me a thing! The last time I asked him why he wouldn’t talk about it, he said he didn’t want me to screw up his lame attempts to get his wife back. As if I would!”

Gerri laughed. The idea of Phil’s mother torturing him with her disapproval was not hurting her mood. “Did you and Stan ever have marital problems?” she asked.

“Of
course
not!” Then she cackled at her own joke. “Geraldine, everyone has marital problems, of one stripe or another.”