9.11 - 78. Chapter 78

November 22, 2001

Thanksgiving Day

Claremont, OH

There were times in my childhood, and since then, when Thanksgiving in Claremont had hosted some horrible weather. Snow was not unusual, and neither were frigid temperatures. But this year, as if to ease our burden slightly, nature had sent us a beautiful day. I walked out onto the patio, wearing only a light shirt, reveling in temperatures that must be approaching 60 degrees. Inside, everyone was watching football, or nibbling on items in the kitchen while they chatted. It was an enjoyable time, but despite the pleasant company, this weather had beckoned me.

My solitude was interrupted, not by a gust of wind, but by a burst of energy, as Will came outside. “Happy Thanksgiving! I’m back!”

I smiled at him. “As is obvious. Happy Thanksgiving to you.”

“Stef told me not to bother you. He said we should give you some time to make yourself miserable,” he was joking with me, even though Stef had probably said those things.

“I was not making myself miserable, and you are not bothering me,” I said firmly. “I was merely enjoying this beautiful weather.”

“It’s like this at home,” he said logically.

“But I am not home,” I countered, making him chuckle. “And how was your trip?”

“Awesome! Zach did a great job, which was pretty cool, since it was his last game as an Ironman.” He said that last word as he mimicked a body builder. “And I think he and Gathan worked things out.”

“That is a most impressive change of heart for both of them,” I said, to draw him out.

“I don’t think Gathan realized how talented Zach is.”

“And what makes you think this realization has helped heal their wounds?” I asked skeptically.

“Because the three of us had sex together on the flight here,” he said, trying to shock me. It bothered me that it worked, and that he could tell that it worked.

“Presumably that is a good indicator,” I observed, sounding quite academic.

“It was also hot,” he said, and his irrepressible nature finally made me smile.

“I would like to raise an issue with you,” I said.

“Go on,” he responded apprehensively.

“Last year, when I spoke at Christmas, I offended you because you felt that I targeted you with my comments.” He stared at me, looking very surprised.

“I’m shocked that you remembered that. I didn’t think anyone listened to me,” he said. He had this annoying tendency to swing from a mature adult-type person to a teenager with remarkable speed.

“My hearing is quite good. I did not want to do the same thing tonight.”

His eyes narrowed. “Is this where you do what Stef, Wade, and Dad have been doing? You make these innuendos about Matt, and try to make me feel bad for being mad at him, when I have every right to be mad at him? Like this is my fault?”

“No, this is where I point out that as a family, we need to be forgiving when others err, and supportive when they are struggling,” I said. “If you ponder those concepts, you will see that they apply to you, but they also apply to Matt.”

“I’m not ready to forgive him, and I’m not ready to talk to him yet. If you think that makes me a shitty person, then I’ll have to try to live with your judgment,” he said, in a particularly nasty way.

“I do not recall judging you at all, and I do not think I have been unsupportive, and I do not think I have told you that you have to immediately have a meeting of the minds like Gathan and Zach did,” I said acidly.

“You think I should have sex with Matt?” he asked, managing to extrapolate my sentence to mean that. I almost rolled my eyes to show my exasperation. I was about to try and reframe my statement to make it clearer when I saw his grin, to indicate he was merely harassing me.

“You usually do not ask my advice on whom you sleep with,” I told him. “Probably because I do not have that much free time to go through all of them.”

“I’ll give you your space, and tell Stef you’re still grumpy,” he said, and winked at me.

“You do that,” I said. He went back in the house, and I smiled after him. He was high-maintenance, or perhaps it would be better to say that dealing with him required a lot of effort, but he was worth it.

I looked through the window and saw him interacting with Darius, John, and JJ. Of them, Will was the most vibrant and lively, and he was the most intelligent. Perhaps that is why I found him so compelling. He stood there, laughing with John, while JJ stood there looking somewhat aloof. JJ, with his competitive focus, and rather bitchy demeanor, was less lovable, but he and Stef had started to bond more, and they had a lot in common. I was hoping Stef would bring JJ more out of his shell, and help him become a more positive person. My eyes moved back to John and Will. John was so much like his father. I grimaced when I thought about how important harmony was to both of them, and how difficult it was to obtain that harmony in our family. Darius watched John and Will act goofy with an air of superiority. Or perhaps Darius was just lackadaisical. Of the four of them, he had most impressed me during the past few months. He seemed to keep his head on straight, and focus on the tasks at hand. I recalled how, in times of crisis and death in my family, I’d have to step in and handle arrangements, or settle estates. Darius took care of those matters like a pro.

I walked back into the house and looked at the clock in a meaningful way. “I’m going to get my jacket and walk over,” I told Stef. We were having dinner at Tonto’s old house, and since the kitchen facilities there were relatively outdated, we were having it catered.

He gave me an odd look. “I think I will drive.”

“I’ll meet you there,” I said, and gave him a kiss.

“Perhaps I will join you, if you do not mind,” Isidore said in French.

“It would be my pleasure,” I responded in that language, and as we walked over to the other house, we continued to speak in French.

“What do you think of our move to Lafayette?” she asked me.

“If you are happy about it, then I am glad for you,” I said, not really wanting to voice an opinion on her decision.

“I asked for your opinion, not platitudes,” she said more sternly.

“I think that it is probably a good thing, but there are dangers.”

“Dangers?” she asked.

“I have seen a spark in Frank since he went to Zach’s game, and there seems to be a very nice bond between the two. Stefan said he noticed it, how Zach treats Frank with a great deal of respect, and how Frank gives Zach a lot of support and kudos.”

“How is that not a good thing?” she asked.

“It is not a good thing if Frank begins to imagine that Zach is actually Robbie,” I said. “I am playing amateur psychologist here, but it is something that has been stuck in my brain, like a warning message.”

“I see no other course of action but to play things out,” she said fatalistically, but I’d told her of my concerns, so she could watch out for signs.

“Lafayette is not known as the most pleasant place in the summer, so I am hoping that is enough to compel the two of you to return to Escorial when the semester is over.”

“That is my understanding, and returning is my plan,” she said. We walked down the tree-lined street. “So much has changed since I first came here.”

“The trees are older, and bigger,” I said, agreeing in a way.

“And so are our children,” she said. I didn’t nitpick over details by noting that she only had one child when she first came here.

“They are. They are people to be proud of, as are our grandchildren,” I said.

“Even Matt?”

I paused to look at her. “I am very proud of Matt. I have done nothing but advocate for him, and try to help him.”

“You and Wade are close. Is there not something you can do to help them repair their relationship?”

I shook my head. “There is not. I am not going to interfere in those decisions, and I am convinced that if I or anyone else did, it would have very unpleasant consequences.”

“Matt is miserable without Wade,” she said. “It is hard to see him in so much pain.” It would have been so easy to make a nasty comment that Matt should have considered that before, when he was kicking Wade to the curb, but I resisted that temptation.

“I did not know you had talked to him recently,” I said.

“He came up to see Frank and me before he went to Cleveland for Thanksgiving. You were out riding, and Wade had already left.”

“Sometimes, the best lessons we learn are the ones we pay for the most dearly,” I said. “I do not see Wade reconciling with Matt anytime soon.”

“That is an overblown way of saying that Matt got what he deserved,” she said petulantly.

“Overblown? I thought the rhetoric was quite beautiful,” I said, teasing her. “But the sentiment is the same, whether I use your words or mine.”

“Is that not a little cold and unfeeling?” she challenged.

“I can only talk about what I see on the outside. It appeared to me that Matt reacted to Robbie’s death, and that of Jeanine, by trying to insulate himself. And to do that, he pushed away the people who were closest to him. He did that by angering Wade to the point that he ended their relationship, and he did that by sleeping with Tony, an act that he knew would set Will off.”

“Will and Tony were not even a formal couple,” Isidore objected. “I think that Will is perhaps making too much of this.”

“I would recommend that you avoid having this conversation with Bradley. He will remind you of how adamantly you protected him when Sam slept with Jake, and he will question your abandonment of his own son in similar circumstances.” She frowned as she thought about that, because Brad was right.

“I will review my thinking on that before I discuss it with Brad or Will,” she said, making both of us laugh. “But I am confused. Why would he want to drive Will away? He and Will are not even that close.”

“This is just conjecture on my part, but if Matt wanted to create a rift between himself and the rest of our family, such a scheme would be perfect for that. It would perhaps be too painful for Matt to do something like that to JJ, whom he does care a lot about, and he did not have the opportunity with other members of the family. But he did have an opportunity with Will, whom he is not close to. In this way, by angering Will and creating this situation, he in essence has pushed all of us away.”

It was her turn to stop and look at me in amazement. “He did this to Will to drive all of us away?”

“I could be wrong,” I objected.

“That is rare for you,” she said, a flattering comment. “So what do we do about it?”

“We don’t do anything about it. We let Matt work through things, supporting him as best we can, and then when he realizes what has happened, and what he has lost, we must embrace him, and welcome him back into the fold,” I said.

“I am not worried that you, or I, or Frank, or Stef, or even Bradley will do that,” she said. “I am worried that Wade and Will cannot.”

“I think that Wade will always be willing to offer Matt friendship, because they are too tied to each other. I do not think he can give Matt more than that.” Wade said that he didn’t love Matt anymore. If he felt that way, then it was over. “But I do think that he will be able to repair things with Will.”

“Will has bitten the head off of anyone who even brings Matt up,” she said, annoyed. “I do not see the forgiving person in him that you do.”

“Then you should look harder,” I said acidly, because she had finally annoyed me. “Will is trusting his instincts, and I think they are right, even if he cannot explain why in words. Matt has not come to the reality we spoke of, so there is no sincere apology on his part, and no real desire for rapprochement with Will. The only reason Matt has done that, up until this point, has been in a vain and half-hearted effort to repair things with Wade.”

“And that will change?”

“I don’t know. If Matt experiences a reality check like I think he’s going to, then he will most likely try to fix things. He is also a very smart young man, when his emotions do not overload his intellect. But if he does have his epiphany, and he approaches Will, I am confident that Will is going to forgive him.”

“I am not sure that I share your optimism,” she said dubiously.

“It is not so hard to tell when Matt is sincere,” I pointed out. “He wears his feelings on his shirtsleeves.”

“Not unlike his father,” she said, thinking of Robbie.

“Not unlike his father,” I agreed. “Will is smart enough to read him. That’s why he doesn’t want to deal with Matt now. He’s not willing to help Matt through these struggles, but he will listen to Matt when he has completed them.”

“That is not a very brotherly approach,” Isidore said.

“I think that based on how Matt treated Will, it is unreasonable to expect Will to bend over backward to help Matt through his journey. It is as if Matt is swimming in the water, in danger of drowning. Will is standing on the shore, ready to give him a hand to help him out, but Matt must struggle to make it close enough to the shore for Will to do that.”

“I do not see Will standing on the shore with his hand out,” she said.

“I do,” I disagreed. We arrived at Tonto’s old house, with its garish Victorian architecture. “I think this is the ugliest house in town.”

Isidore laughed. “I am convinced Tonto donated it to the city so you and Stefan would not just bulldoze it down.”

“Urban beautification,” I joked. “I would have operated the machine myself.” We were laughing as we walked into the house, probably giving the impression that we had had a pleasant stroll. It had not been, but it had been a good one. I greeted the staff who were catering dinner, then was distracted when I heard the rumble of an old engine.

I went out back in time to find that Brad had driven Stefan, Will, and John over in Steven’s old Packard. We’d found it stored in a barn out at Tonto’s old lake house, and Stef had spent a small fortune to have it meticulously restored. It was a beautiful machine, a 1941 Packard 8 convertible, painted the original pale yellow it had been when Tonto had bought it.

“You have arrived in style,” I said to Stef.

“I usually do,” he said airily, making the rest of us laugh. “It was just warm enough for a short ride with the top down.”

“I’m going to park it in the garage,” Brad said. “The temperature is dropping, and we won’t want to ride back in it.” It was already getting darker as well. I led Stef, Will, and John into the house. We were joined shortly by the rest of the family. Nick Schluter came over with his wife and his younger son: Barry. His other son, Harry, was at Tulane, and had taken a study abroad trip to Germany, so he would be absent. Claire and Jack arrived in the limo, along with Marie and Frank. The last two to get here were Darius and JJ. Darius drove my father’s old Corvette, the 1963 convertible I’d given him as a Christmas present, and JJ had evidently decided to ride along with him. This year, we were missing some of our usual celebrants. Ace and his family were spending Thanksgiving with Cass’s family this year, so we would be without them. Max and Tim had opted to stay in LA, as had Cody. And we were normally joined by Lou and Marcel, but Lou had scheduling conflicts at his television station, and Marcel chosen to stay with him. They’d been out to Robbie’s memorial last month, and that had been a stressful time, so they were probably happy to stay in Canada.

As we gathered around the dining room table, even though it was a smaller group than last year, I beamed with pride at my family. They were, to a person, good people, trying to do good things. We took our seats, with me at the head of the table, and Isidore opposite me. Despite our divorce, that seemed appropriate. I waited until everyone was seated, with a glass of wine in front of them, then I stood up to speak. “I want to start out this Thanksgiving dinner with a confession.”

“And what must you confess?” Stef asked.

“I said that my reason for coming here was for a change of pace. That was not true,” I admitted.

“Then why did you want us to come here, Daddy?” Claire asked.

“There are some animals who, when they are wounded, or are threatened, will return home, to the place they were born. While I am healthy,” I said, to preclude any fears about my own mortality, “there is sometimes comfort in what is familiar.”

“So you wanted to come to Claremont?” Brad asked.

“Yes,” I said. “I was selfishly indulging my own instincts, my own need to reconnect with my past, and my heritage. We are sitting in this home where so much of our family history has taken place. It was here that I spent many holidays, and it was here that I experienced good news, and bad news. It was in this house that we endured the almost unbearable news when we found out that Steven had been killed in France. That was in 1944, and I was only eight and a half years old. In 1962, we had more pain, when André was killed in Vietnam, and that was complicated just a bit when I told my father I was gay.”

“Just a bit,” Isidore said with a smirk.

“But in that same year, I met the love of my life, when he bravely boarded a plane from France and came to the United States, to this very house, even though he knew almost no English at all.” I turned to Stef, and raised my glass. “I toast you for the loving, caring, and giving person that you are, and for the stunning success you have made out of your life. But most of all, I toast you for the partner you have been, and the force you have been in nurturing and supporting this family.”

“Hear hear!” Brad said, and he was echoed by everyone else. Stef gave me a loving smile.

“And it was also the year that you came into this world,” I said to Brad. “After some deliberation, I have decided to count that among the good things that happened.”

He chuckled at that. “Thank you.”

“In 1963, there was more devastating news. Not only was President Kennedy assassinated, but that was also the year that Billy Schluter was killed, bravely serving his country on the USS Thresher.” I looked at Nick, since Billy was his father. “Your father was my best friend. That I didn’t sleep with.” He smiled, even as the others chuckled. I decided that even though I had, in fact, slept with Billy, I was allowed some slight revisions to history. “Yet even as those tragedies stunned us, that was also the year that Isidore came over from France, a decision I continue to be grateful for, and I hope she has never regretted.” I raised my glass, and we all toasted her as well.

“Not often, anyway,” she joked, referring to possible regrets.

“It was also the year that Ace was born, and it was the year Robbie was born.” They got somber when I mentioned Robbie’s name. I moved quickly beyond that. “It was in 1968 that I moved to California, and after that, this house did not hold the same significance for me. But I wanted to come here, because even during those years of intense trial and tribulation, there were also good things happening. As I sit here in this house, I am reminded of that, and I am prodded to appreciate the positive things in my life. In this year of tragedies for our family, I wanted to be here so I could be reminded of the strength that family unity can provide in times like this. How when we stick together, and support each other, we can get through even the toughest of times. We did that in 1944, we did that in 1962, and we did that in 1963. We can do that in 2001.”

I got up and walked around the table, slowly walking by each person as I spoke. “And I wanted us to be here, to remember that even though we have endured incredibly painful losses, we must not lose sight of the good people who are part of our family. I am so very lucky to have all of you in my life, and I wanted to gather you here, together, in this place where I endured and overcame such terrible events, to remind all of us that our family has suffered before, and overcome before. To me, you are the good that comes along to make the bad less terrible. You are the people whom I love more than anything. You are the people I am most thankful for.” I sat down as I finished that last word.

I was surprised when Isidore spoke up. “I remember when I first met you, JP. It was at that incredibly sleazy dance club in Pigalle, and because I was so focused on André, I could spare but a few glances your way.” I pretended to be offended, but I wasn’t. “You were so polite to everyone, and you danced very well.”

“I was spry in those days,” I said.

“You still are,” Stef said, making me blush, and everyone else laugh.

“When you returned to France with Jeff, and we had lunch at that horrible café on the Champs Elysees, I was a scared and downtrodden young woman. I had no one to turn to, and my options were limited. You offered to bring me over to America, and help me raise my son, all because of the debt of honor you felt you owed to André. I could not help but be amazed, and not a little unbelieving, when you did that. What kind of man offers to make that big of a sacrifice for a woman who had a very fleeting relationship with a friend of his? There were obvious reasons, but those evaporated when I found out you were gay.”

“I have had some non-gay moments,” I said, winking at her, and embarrassing her for a change.

“A fact I’m very glad of,” Jack said, smiling at Claire.

“So why did you come over here? Why did you trust him?” Darius asked her.

“Because he is a man of honor. I could see it when he was at the dance club, and I could tell by the way André talked about him. And when I met him at that cafe, and looked in his eyes, I could see it in his soul. I knew that this was a man I could rely on, who would be painfully honest with me, but would always treat me with respect. I have been wrong about some things, but I was not wrong about that.”

“Thank you,” I said, genuinely choked up.

I was really surprised when Nick spoke. “We’re sitting here in a city that is experiencing a revival, the likes of which other towns in Ohio, not to mention Pennsylvania and West Virginia, can only stare at in envy. They don’t understand how that could have happened here, and they don’t have a clue as to how we have done this. In my office, I have a picture of you,” he said, looking at me. “When they ask me what the secret was, I point at that picture.”

“I was but one part of what was a huge team effort,” I said, unwilling to take credit for this achievement.

“Do you remember the dinner we had at the country club after the town hall meeting about the tolerance referendum?” Brad asked. “That was the night we first met Gathan, and took him to dinner. We were all rambling on about the polls, and speculating on what people would do, and he shut us all up by saying he thought they’d go for it. When we asked him why, he said they would because you were behind it.”

Before I could respond, Nick spoke again. “And he was right. You put your honor, your word, your reputation, and Stefan’s money on the line for this town.” That got some chuckles from all of us. “The people here know you, and they knew you wouldn’t screw them over. The fact that you said it was the thing to do was good enough for them. And it was.”

“You make it sound as if I am Moses, leading the people out of Egypt,” I objected.

“I thought he made it sound like you were a respected leader,” Darius said in his cocky way.

“We’re not always the easiest people to deal with,” Will began.

“We?” Darius asked, challenging him.

“Whatever,” Will said, and then continued talking. “But we all look to you in the same way. You’re the guy who can give us the right answer. Not the correct answer, the right answer. And when you’re wrong, which does happen, you’ll admit it. So many of my friends have fathers who won’t do that, who won’t admit to making a mistake. But you’re smart enough to own up to your errors, and to fix them. And you inspire most of the rest of us to do the same thing,” he said, giving Darius a smarmy look.

“When we were in New York, and I’d just found out that I’d lost Robbie, and Jeanine, and Hank…” Brad said. He had to stop and grapple with his emotions. “When we were there, you were amazing. You let the rest of us struggle with that loss, while you sprang into action, managed to get us a limo and a pass out of Manhattan, and tracked down a bus to take us ultimately to Virginia. I remember when you told us we were leaving. Every fiber in my body rebelled against that, in the futile hope that somehow I could change things if I stayed there. I wanted to argue with you, I wanted to stay, but all I had to do was look into your eyes, see your resolve, and I knew it was the right decision.”

I was reeling from these accolades, as I had not expected them, and I was sure I did not deserve them. There were tears in my eyes, which was a rarity, but I could not stop them. I had cried so many tears this year, these past few months, tears of misery and sadness, but these were different. These were tears of joy and gratitude.

“What the people at this table are telling you,” Stef said, “is that it is not this house, or even Escorial, that makes us strong. What we are all saying to you is that your leadership, your honor, and your inspiration is what makes us strong, and gives us the courage to deal with tragedies like the one we have experienced.”

“To JP!” Frank said, standing up. “Happy Thanksgiving.” Everyone else stood up and toasted me.

“Thanks to all of you,” I said, “it truly is.”