The Rebuilding Year (27 page)

“Like she should believe that,” Carlisle sneered.

“She should. I’ve never lied to her. I wasn’t with anyone else, didn’t even think about anyone else, male or female, until after the divorce. Then I dated a few women, but didn’t sleep with them. And then Ryan.”

Cynthia was staring at John as if she wanted X-ray vision, but eventually she nodded. “Okay. Yeah, you always were the Boy Scout. But not telling me you were gay is damned well lying.”

“I wasn’t gay, then.” John glanced at Torey, who was scrunched back into the couch beside him, her eyes wide. Ryan figured she was getting a little more adult conversation than she had bargained for, but maybe that was better than secrets. John turned to speak directly to Torey. “When I met your mother, first day of tenth grade, she was the prettiest thing I had ever seen. I fell in love, just like that. I spent the next two years chasing after her, until she let herself get caught. And then we got married.”

“Because I was pregnant,” Cynthia said bitterly. She glanced at Torey and looked down, but went on in a low voice, “Would you have even looked at me after high school, if it wasn’t for the baby?”

Still facing Torey, John said, “I planned to marry your mother all along. She’s right, that I would have waited a while if it hadn’t been for the baby, your older brother who died. We got married at eighteen, which is very young. But I didn’t regret it. I still don’t. We had good years, and I wouldn’t trade you and your brother for anything in this world. But your mother and I changed. What we had wasn’t right anymore. Your mother met Brandon. And now I met Ryan.”

“And he made you…gay?” Torey asked in a small voice.

“No, sweetheart,” John said. “I kissed him first. I chased him and convinced him we should be together. Because we make each other happy.”

“This is such bullshit,” Carlisle said. “You’re not fit to have Mark here. I know plenty of lawyers and judges. The law is on Cynthia’s side.”

Time to shift this back where it belongs.
Ryan lifted his feet onto the coffee table with a resounding
thump
,
thump
, and let his gaze sweep around the room. “We need to take a step back from the gay issue here,” he said firmly. Everyone stared at him.
Good.
“The important thing we’re all here to decide is where Mark will be happy and safe, for the next few months anyway. He has a place here, he’s started school and is doing well, he has a band he plays with.”

“I grounded him from band until his grades improve,” Carlisle snapped.

“Which shows you don’t understand Mark very well.
However many
years you’ve known him,” Ryan said. “Music isn’t a luxury, like computer games, that you take away from him for punishment. Music is who Mark is. He’ll be doing some kind of music all his life, and he needs it. I played guitar for fifteen years, and he’s already better than I’ll ever be.” He nodded at Mark’s grateful look. “The school here may not be up to the standards of the one he was in, but if he gets B’s and A’s, as he has this week, it’s a better place for him. And if he’s not being harassed, it’s a
much
better place for him.”

“He’ll never get into a good college from a school like York High.”

“He won’t get into a good college flunking out of Loyola either,” Ryan pointed out.

“In the end, it’s up to Mark,” John said. “He’s fifteen. He’s going to make his own choices. Better living here with me than running away from you, Cynthia. Assuming this is still what he wants.”

Mark blanched as everyone’s eyes converged on him. He swallowed, but said clearly enough, “I want to live with Dad.”

“And his
boyfriend
?” Carlisle demanded.

“And Ryan,” Mark said steadily. “I like Ryan, and he treats me like a real person. I want to stay.”

“You’ll get harassed worse for having fag parents than you ever did back home,” Carlisle said.

“Maybe, but I think I can handle it.”

“Well, I won’t allow it. No kid of mine is living with a pair of perverts, like that’s better than what I can give him. You’re coming home and you’ll damned well pass your classes and get into a college I can hold my head up to tell people about.”

“This isn’t about you,” John growled.

“My home, my rules.”

“Which is why Mark left. And why he’s better off here.”

Carlisle glanced at his wife. “Tell your son he’s coming home with us.”

Mark bounced up out of his seat. “No way. What are you going to do? Drag me through airport security by my hair? You only fucking want me because it makes you look bad.”

“Watch your language,” Carlisle barked.

“Fuck you too.”

“Mark.” Ryan gave him a look.

“Mark isn’t leaving unless he chooses to,” John said. “He has a safe home here. His choice.”

“She has legal custody. She can sue the hell out of you.”

“To drag Mark back to a house he’s run away from once? Who gains from that?”

Cynthia extended a hand toward Marcus. “Don’t you want to come home, honey? I know we’ve had problems but it’s your home.”

“Not anymore.”

“How can you say that, honey?” Cynthia asked plaintively. “Don’t you want to be with a real family?”

“This is a family,” Mark said stoutly. “Dad, Ryan and me. We do okay.”

Good boy.
Ryan gave the kid a firm nod, and saw him sit up a little straighter. “Let Mark stay with us through the school year,” he suggested. “At the end of the year, see what his grades are like, how he’s doing in the band, everything. See if he’s found his place.”

“I don’t know,” Cynthia said more quietly. “I just… This is all so hard.” She reached behind her, rubbing her back.

The woman is pregnant. And losing her son to her ex.
Ryan moderated his tone. “Cynthia, you look beat. Do you want to go lie down for a while? Nothing is going to change if you take an hour to rest. You need to think about the new baby too.”

She glanced at him, eyes narrowed as if she expected some kind of trick. But after a moment she nodded. “I think that might be good.”

Ryan said, “Mark, why don’t you take your mother upstairs to the guest room. I put fresh sheets on the bed. She can lie down for a bit.”

“What are you now?” Carlisle sneered. “John’s wife?”

More like his husband.
Ryan let it go. Who cared what the jerk thought of him.

“But,” Torey said, as Mark got up to do as he was told. “What about me?”

Ryan turned his attention to her. “Did you get into that school play? The one you and Char were auditioning for?”

“Um, yeah.”

“Good part?”

“Not bad. But Char got the lead, which is kind of unfair, ’cause she can’t remember half her lines and I know both parts already.”

“It’s your first role,” Ryan pointed out. “You need to ace it, knock their socks off. Then you’ll be in a position to try for the lead next time. There will be a lot more plays before you graduate high school, if you’re really interested.”

“I guess but…I want to live here.”

“Walking out on your first part as an actor isn’t the best way to make an impression,” he said doubtfully. “I thought you were okay with school, getting A’s and all. And it sounds like Char is a good friend.”

“She’s okay.”

“And think about this.” Ryan took his feet off the table and leaned toward her. “You’re going to be a teenager soon. Do you really want two guys like your dad and me to be your main source of information about clothes…boys…makeup…
tampons
?”

“Yuck. Ryan!” she protested.

“See? You don’t even want me to say the word.”

Ryan glanced at John, throwing him the ball.
Teamwork.
John said, “Torey, you’re welcome here. But I think your mom could use your help, with the baby coming and all. And she can tell you a lot more about growing-up girl stuff than we can. And don’t you want to be there when your baby brother or sister is born?”

“Maybe.”

“Things will be a little unsettled here, until Ryan and Mark and I get our lives figured out. If you can stand it, I’d like you to stay with your mom, at least till the end of the school year and the baby comes. Then we can do a giant review, see how everyone is doing. Can you do that?”

“I guess,” Torey said in a small voice. “But I miss you.”

“I miss you too, Torey. I promise, we’ll make sure you get out here to visit more often. You can fly out for long weekends. The money isn’t that big a deal.”

Ryan teased, “If necessary, I’ll sell blood to raise funds for your ticket.”

“They won’t take your blood.” Carlisle’s voice was mocking. “You’re gay.”

“Well…”
Shit, out of the mouths of SOB’s.
“Hey, John, we need to call off this relationship. It’s going to cut into my secondary source of income.”

Without hesitation, John winged a magazine at his head. Ryan ducked, grinning.

“We’re getting silly here,” John said with a mock glare at Ryan. “How about we give Cynthia time for that nap, and then talk again?”

“Right,” Ryan seconded, with a wave at Mark to help his mother. “Come on, Torey. I’m in a mood for cookies, but the last time I baked, we ended up with chocolate-chip rocks. Maybe you can give me a hand.” He stood up and headed toward the kitchen, trying not to limp with Carlisle watching. Torey followed him slowly.

As he dug out ingredients, his listened with one ear to the rise and fall of men’s voices in the living room. John and Carlisle. He would have to trust John’s good sense to keep it civil.

“Did you really bake rocks?” Torey asked, pulling out the cookie trays from the cupboard.

“Not quite. But they were a bit hard. You know, if you’re going to be with your mom for at least a few more months, get her to teach you to cook. Because we have three people in this house, and not one of us can do much more than boil water. Then if you decide you do want to move here later, you’ll have a skill to bargain with.” He inspected the recipe on the back of the chocolate-chip bag. Brown sugar. Did they even have brown sugar left? Could he substitute white? Was that what he did last time?

“I don’t know what I want,” Torey admitted softly. “It’s just weird at home. Mom gets sad and cries a lot. And Brandon doesn’t think much of girls.”

“I’m sorry,” Ryan said. “If it’s any help, I think part of your Mom’s problem is being pregnant, with the stress and hormones and all.”

“Maybe.”

“You can call us, anytime. Me or your dad. Or Mark, although I’m guessing you don’t usually want your brother’s advice.”

Torey shook her head.

“Honey, things may be hard right now. But you have lots of people who love you. You know that, right?”

She nodded, her eyes wet. Ryan pulled her into a hug. “Hey. It gets better. I heard that somewhere.” Her arms tightened around him, and she sniffled into his shirt.

The front door banged. After a moment, John appeared in the kitchen doorway. “Brandon went for a walk to cool off.”

“The man is from California, isn’t he?” Ryan said. “Cooling off won’t take long in this weather.” He freed an arm to reach out. “Come here, babe. Torey needs a hug.”
And you look like you could use one too.
John’s arms were big enough to gather them both in. Ryan rubbed the man’s shoulder, and for a moment they all stood together, warm despite the cool kitchen.

John hunched his shoulders at the sound of Cynthia’s footsteps on the stair, and glanced around the living room looking for escape. Funny how even after all these years, he recognized the determined rhythm that meant she was building up a head of steam. God, he hated fighting with her. It had always ended with icy-cold rejection, until she decided to forgive him. He remembered how hard he’d worked in the past for that forgiveness. He hadn’t had a big fight with Ryan yet, but somehow he didn’t think icy cold was going to be part of it when he did.

“John,” Cynthia said to his back. “We need to talk.”

“I know.” He sighed and turned. “I sent Ryan out with the kids to a movie.”

“You let him take Torey somewhere without asking me?”

John rubbed his face. “Yeah. I did. They were here a week at Christmas and he took them places then. I trust him with my kids. Hell, I trust him with my life.”

“Well I don’t.”

“And I don’t trust Brandon,” John pointed out. “But we both have to live with it.”

“Brandon’s not going to hurt the kids.”

Neither is Ryan.
John skipped the obvious and said, “Brandon pushed Mark and belittled him, until Mark was flunking school and running away from home. There are a lot of ways to hurt a kid.”

“You can’t blame Mark’s problems on Brandon.”

“Maybe not but he didn’t help any.”

Cynthia frowned. “I didn’t come in here to talk about Mark. That’s not what this is about.”

Unfortunately.
It was the important issue, but he knew he wasn’t going to get to go there yet. “What is this about, Cynthia?”

“You and that…that…man.”