Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Geeks - 13. Bombshell
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: BOMBSHELL
Adam ended up sitting with his back up against the headboard, Mikeal cradled between his knees. Mikeal was recounting the events at his home in a cool, factual manner, his voice detached and disengaged. Adam hugged him tightly when he was done with the story, leaning forward to rest his chin on Mikeal’s shoulder. “That really sucks baby,” he said.
Mikeal shook his head. “I don’t know what to think. I don’t know what to do.”
“That’s okay.”
“No, I need to figure this out. I need to figure out how I feel.”
Adam recognized Mikeal’s approach: to figure out how to turn this into a problem that he could analyze and solve.
“Baby, you just found out and this is a big deal. You’re probably in shock. Give yourself some time to get used to the idea, and then try to figure out how you feel.”
“Used to it?” Mikeal snorted. “Right.”
“Give it time baby,” Adam said, running his hands up and down Mikeal’s arm. “Are you hungry?”
“A little,” Mikeal admitted. “God, I’m so embarrassed. The way I stormed in here and...”
“No, no. It told me exactly what I needed to know; something happened and it wasn’t good.”
“No, definitely not good.”
“Come on.” Adam climbed off the bed and took Mikeal’s hand in his own, leading him into the kitchen. It was empty aside from Adam’s mother, Olivia, who glanced up as they entered and smiled warmly.
“It’s nice to see you again, Mikeal,” she said, standing to shake his hand.
Mikeal smiled wanly. “Likewise.”
“Did we miss dinner?” Adam asked.
Olivia nodded as she sat back down. “I saved some leftovers; they're in the fridge for you.” Her eyes slid from Mikeal to Adam and back again, but Mikeal didn’t see any disapproval or worry, just calm acceptance. “Do you want to be alone?” she asked.
Mikeal shook his head. “No, no. You don’t have to leave.” He shrugged. “It’s your house. Thank you for letting me come in and collect myself.”
“Any friend of Adam’s is welcome in our house,” Olivia said. She glanced at Adam. “Do his parents know he is here?”
Adam shook his head. “I don’t think so. Baby?”
Mikeal shook his head. “No. I haven’t talked to them since…since this afternoon.” Mikeal checked his watch. “They're probably just getting home.”
“I don’t think you need to talk to them quite yet, but maybe text them or your sister, to let them know that you are okay,” Adam suggested.
Olivia nodded. “I don’t know what the situation is, but as a parent, I would want to know where my child is."
“The whole 'parent' thing is up to debate,” Mikeal said. “I’m going to go get my phone.”
When he left the room, Olivia glanced at Adam and raised her eyebrows.
“I’m not going to tell you all of it,” Adam said, leaning his forearms against the butcher’s block where she was sitting. “But there is a strong possibility that his parents aren’t his birth parents. And he just found out today.”
“Oh my,” Olivia whispered, glancing down the hallway. “Today? Right before Christmas?”
Adam nodded. “Yeah, and he didn’t find out in the best of circumstances.” He turned and stacked leftover turkey, bacon, and blue cheese on a slice of bread, added some mayo and pressed another slice on top. He cut it in half and set it aside for Mikeal and made another for himself. The familiarity of the simple task helped ease some of his worry. He glanced up as Mikeal shuffled back inside.
Olivia slid off her stool. “I better go check on the kids,” she said, stepping out of the room.
“Here,” Adam said, pushing a plate in his direction. Mikeal sat down and picked at the crust. “How did it go?”
Mikeal shrugged. “I texted them. They keep trying to call. I haven’t answered. I told them that I knew the truth and that Hyacinth could fill in the details if they wanted them. They both are trying to get in touch with me; to find out where I am and what is going on. All I’ve told them is that I'm safe, and have a place to stay. I told my dad I would meet with him tomorrow.” Mikeal shrugged. “We need to talk and we need to be in a neutral territory. Is there a good place around here?”
“There's a pretty good coffee shop downtown,” Adam said. “I can take you there.”
Mikeal texted the address to his dad. The phone began to buzz shortly after he sent it and Mikeal powered it down.
“Finish your dinner,” Adam gently prompted. “Do you think you're ready?”
“I won’t be able to figure out what to think or how to feel until I have all the facts. That means I have questions I need answered. Right now, I'm angry, hurt and feel betrayed. But I need to know if there is a basis for those feelings. I was lied to, all of my life, about who I was and where I came from. I need to know why.”
“Makes sense,” Adam agreed. Mikeal finished eating quietly and Adam led him back to his bedroom. It had been close to lunch when Hyacinth had dropped her bomb; it was now late and dark outside.
“Get in the bed,” Adam instructed, closing the door before stripping down to his T-shirt and boxers. Mikeal looked a little apprehensive, but did the same. Adam sank down onto the mattress next to Mikeal. The twin bed was a snug fit, but Adam didn’t mind the necessary closeness. Mikeal pulled the sheets up to his chin and turned towards Adam, his dark eyes fathomless pools in the dim light. Adam found his hand underneath the sheets and gripped it.
“Okay?” he whispered. The darkness, the closeness provided by his tiny bed and the revelation from earlier somehow made everything more solemn, more reverent, more intimate.
“I don’t know. Probably not. Not yet.” Mikeal moved closer, his fingers gripping Adam’s shirt, lips seeking his in the dark. “Just…stay with me, okay?”
Adam kissed him again, and wished desperately that they were alone. He wanted, so bad, to take Mikeal into his arms, kiss all of his worries away, and to make love to him, until he was limp with exhaustion. To drive everything from Mikeal’s mind except his touch, his taste, the feel of his body. “I’m not going anywhere, baby.” He felt Mikeal’s arm come across him and press close. “I’m right here. Through all of it, I’m right here.”
* * *
Mikeal sat nervously inside the coffee shop that he told Jamison to meet him at. He was early, but he was so restless and jumpy that morning that he was useless until Adam drove him out to town.
He took a sip of the coffee and found comfort in both the familiar taste and the sight of Adam, sitting discretely on the other side of the shop, reading. Adam glanced up and caught his eye, raising his eyebrows in his "okay?" gesture. Mikeal nodded slightly, then shifted his gaze. His heart gave another uncertain leap when he saw the familiar figure of his father through the window before he entered the shop.
Jamison looked around and approached Mikeal's table. There was an awkward pause. Usually when they saw each other, the first thing they did was exchange a hug. Mikeal stayed in his seat and his father lowered himself into a chair across from him.
It struck Mikeal suddenly how old his father looked. Jamison was not a young man, only a few years from retirement, but he was always energetic, and brimming with vitality. The man sitting before him now looked tired, drained, and barely alive. It softened the knot of hurt, angry betrayal that was still sitting heavy on Mikeal’s chest.
"Are you okay?" Jamison asked, leaning forward. "We've been worried about you."
"I know," Mikeal answered. "I'm okay."
“I brought some stuff for you,” Jamison said, depositing a duffel bag onto the ground and folding his arms on the table. “The things that you told Lily you wanted from the house. Your mother is frantic," Jamison continued. "Lily filled us in on what happened. Hyacinth admitted to her part in it." He looked down at his hands. "Hyacinth has left the house at our request and will be spending Christmas with her husband and his family. We are very sorry that you had to find out this way, Mikeal. This is not how we wanted to tell you."
"Were you ever planning on telling me?" Mikeal said. He hated the bitterness in his voice, but he couldn't keep it at bay. "Or were you going to keep on stringing me along, lying to me, letting me believe something that wasn't true?"
"Mikeal, we are still your parents and we still love you. That never changed. That never will."
"If you love me, how could you do this? Lie to me all these years? Not let me know who I came from?"
"I wanted to Mikeal, I swear, I wanted to, long ago. But the right time just never seemed to come. And then, it just seemed like it was never necessary."
"Not necessary?" Mikeal asked in disbelief.
"You were happy, Mikeal. Smart, healthy, well-behaved. I was all for telling you when you were older. We wanted to make sure you would understand what adoption was, you see. I wanted to tell you when you were around twelve, your mother pressed for sixteen, then eighteen. I think she was afraid that you would be upset, and she didn't want to have to go through it."
Mikeal frowned. "Didn't want to go through it?"
Jamison sighed. "You have to know the circumstances behind your adoption if you want to understand why she didn't say anything about it."
"There are circumstances now?" Mikeal asked.
"Yes." Jamison looked at the cup of coffee that Mikeal was holding. "I'm going to get a drink. Do you want a refill?"
Mikeal shook his head. While Jamison was up getting his drink, Mikeal glanced at Adam again. Adam gave him another questioning raise of his eyebrows. Mikeal gave him a nod to let him know that things were still okay.
When Jamison returned and started talking, Mikeal noticed that he had trouble meeting his eyes. "You never knew this, though I'm sure your sisters remember. Marigold had given me two beautiful, healthy little girls. And I love them like I love you. But I wanted a son; someone to carry on the family name, to take over when I was gone. It all seems very silly and misogynistic now, but at the time it was very important to me. But your mother was having trouble. She had difficulties carrying your sisters through to their due date, and later pregnancies were even harder. She was miscarrying, and the one other she carried to term was stillborn. I eventually realized after all that, that having a son wasn't what God had planned for me, and I decided to be happy and satisfied with my darling daughters.
"But your mother...she took it harder than I. She wanted more children and she felt like she failed me. She carried a lot of grief and shame from her failed pregnancies. It remained with her, even though I told her I no longer cared about having a son, and was happy with the children we had.”
Jamison broke off and took a drink. He pushed his glasses up on top of his head, and pressed his fingertips against his eyes. Mikeal felt a strange twist in his stomach as he wondered if his father was crying...something he had never seen him do. But when Jamison spoke again, his voice was steady...tired, but steady.
"It was a low point in our marriage. We had separated, briefly, and were considering divorce. Your mother was staying with her family, or so I thought. Then one day, she shows back up at the house, with a baby. By the time I got home, your sisters had already seen you and fallen in love with you. When she put you in my arms and I looked into your eyes and you smiled at me, I was lost. Your mother had already started the adoption process. Normally it would have taken ages with all the red tape, but we had enough money to grease the wheels and were able to take custody while the paperwork was churning through the system. It didn't matter that you weren't my biological son. I loved you regardless. And I love you now.
“Your mother and I decided to get back together to raise you. She wanted a fresh start so we moved to a new town and I opened up a new firm. Looking back now, I realized what she was doing, and why she was so reluctant to tell you. She wanted to act like you were the son that she couldn’t conceive, that you were my own flesh and blood. It didn't matter to me; I love you just as much as if you were my biological child. But it mattered to her. And I still loved her, so I allowed her whatever she needed to comfort herself. But I was adamant that you be told eventually. To try to avoid the very situation we're at right now."
Jamison lifted his gaze, and met Mikeal's stunned stare. "I know it's a lot to take in, and I know that a lot of it probably doesn't make sense to you. But there is one thing that I want you to know, more than anything else. And that is that I love you. I always have, and I always will and being adopted will never change that. And the only thing that I regret about your knowing that you are adopted is that we waited so long to tell you and that you found out in the manner that you did. Because that hurt you, Mikeal, and we never wanted that. Neither one of us."
Mikeal pressed his lips together. It was a lot to take in, and he could feel a tell-tale burn in his chest. "Did-did Mom--did she want me?"
"Of course. She is the one who brought you home."
"No. Did she want me?" Mikeal asked. "You are making it sound like she wanted a son of her own, and when she couldn’t make that happen, she took the next best thing, which was me. She didn't take me because she wanted to adopt a child. She took me because she couldn't have one of her own."
"You are simplifying things, Mikeal. It was much more complicated than that. It wasn't just about having a son; that was something I had wanted. Marigold wanted more children, period, even if they were girls. She wanted a house full of them. Even if I hadn't wanted a son, she might have adopted you anyway. And she chose you, Mikeal. There were other boys she could have chosen; blond or redheaded boys that would have looked more like your sisters. But she chose you, Mikeal. And she loves you, just like I do. Just like your sisters do."
Mikeal touched his face self-consciously. “Do you know my--my heritage?”
"You are half Japanese, half Caucasian. Born to a Japanese mother and a Caucasian father. I have a little information on your birth parents, if you want it. If you want to meet them, we’ll have to get your full records unsealed by the courts. I’ll help you with that, if it is something you want.”
Mikeal looked down and fiddled with his cup.
"I know this is a lot to take in, Mikeal. And I understand if you need some time. But your mother would like you home for Christmas, and so would I, and your sister."
The thought of returning home to his family, especially his mother right now and trying to celebrate was so ridiculous that he couldn't believe his father was suggesting it. Mikeal shook his head. "I can't right now. I'm sorry, but I can't."
Jamison looked pained. "Please, Mikeal. Your mom and I...we want some time. We want to talk to you some more."
Mikeal shook his head again, pushing back from the table. He saw Adam look alarmed and start to get up and Mikeal shook his head again, holding his hand up. Adam slowly sank back down into his seat.
"Listen," Mikeal said. "It's not the adoption that bothers me so much, but the fact that you didn't tell me about it. Finding out about this showed me that most of the stuff I thought I knew was false. Things that I believed were true, built my life upon were lies. Not malicious lies, but lies all the same. And I just need some time to think, to process. I'll come back for the New Year, but not before that."
Jamison still looked concerned. "Where are you staying? A hotel?"
"No." Mikeal looked down at the table again. He clenched his hands into fists. "There is something I was going to talk to you about over the break, before all this other stuff came up."
"What is it?"
Mikeal wanted to just keep his eyes on the table, but refused to take the easy way out. He lifted his eyes. "I was going to write you and....mom a letter. But since you are here..." He took a breath and took another glance at Adam, who was giving him an encouraging smile from across the crowded shop. Like he knew what Mikeal was about to do even though there was no way for him to hear the conversation. "I have a boyfriend. And I'm staying with him and his family right now."
Jamison's expression didn't waver, although he was silent for longer than Mikeal was comfortable with.
"Boyfriend?" he finally asked, lifting his cup to take a sip.
Mikeal nodded, clenching his fists so hard that he could feel the nails digging into his skin and his knuckles were blanched white.
Jamison leaned back in his chair. "Seems we have both been keeping secrets."
"There is no comparison," Mikeal snapped, immediately going on the defensive. "I had a secret for a couple months. You've had yours for nineteen years."
"A couple of months, hmm?" Jamison asked. "Where did you meet this boy?"
"He goes to my school. I met him at a convention that Julie took me to."
"Tell me about him."
Mikeal blinked. "You're not upset?"
"Why would I be?"
Mikeal shrugged. "You and Mom were always foisting off girls on me."
Jamison chuckled a little. "Your mother wanted you to find someone to settle down with, like Lily and Hyacinth did. I care about you getting a good education. As long as this young man doesn't interfere with that and treats you well, then I am fine." Jamison took another drink, appearing far more relaxed. "How serious is this?"
"Serious,” Mikeal said. "I love him."
"Are you being safe?"
Mikeal felt his face heat up and covered it up with his hands. "Daaaaaad!"
He heard his father chuckle and how it ended in a choked sound. Mikeal dropped his hands and saw that his father was giving him a strange little smile, his eyes suspiciously bright.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah." Jamison cleared his throat. "I just really like hearing you call me Dad right now. Son."
Mikeal cracked a small grin.
"Tell me more about him. What is his name?"
"Adam." Mikeal shifted in his seat nervously. "Would you like to meet him?"
Jamison raised his eyebrows. "He's here."
Mikeal stood and waved at Adam. Adam stowed his book in his bag and crossed the room. He approached Mikeal and slid an arm around his waist, giving him a small smile before meeting Jamison's gaze.
"Adam, this is my father, Jamison Hamilton."
"Mr. Hamilton,” Adam said politely, extending his hand.
Jamison accepted his hand and shook it firmly. Mikeal and Adam sat back down and Mikeal had to hide a smile as he saw his father dive into the typical drill that he had given Lily and Hyacinth's paramours. Adam patiently answered Jamison's questions about his family, what he was studying, and what his career plans were.
Jamison eventually turned his attention back to Mikeal. “Are you sure you won’t reconsider Christmas? You’re welcome to bring Adam, of course.”
Mikeal shook his head resolutely. “I’m sorry. Not yet.”
“It’s Christmas, Mikeal.”
“Bad timing. You could have decided when and how I found out, but you chose not to. And I don’t think it is fair for me to be suddenly okay with it, just because you want me around for the holidays.”
Adam chose that time to go and get a cup of coffee.
“Your mother wants to see you.”
“Well, I don’t want to see her,” Mikeal shot back. “I need some time. And right now, I am not okay with being at the house, acting like I’m fine with all this when I’m not. Because that is what she wants.”
“She wants to see you, to talk to you, like I am. What’s so wrong with that?”
“Because it’s not what I want. And I think I have every right to think of myself a little bit right now.” Mikeal shoved his chair back. “And right now I want to go.”
Jamison was out of his chair in an instant and the next thing Mikeal knew, he was wrapped in his father’s warm embrace. Everything, from the weight of his arms to the familiar smell of cologne and wool from his sweater, broke him down and he returned the hug.
“I love you.”
“I know you do,” Mikeal replied.
Jamison gave him another hard squeeze, then stepped back. “Alright. You need time. But if you change your mind, let us know. I can come and pick you up if need be.”
Mikeal nodded. “Thanks,” he managed.
Jamison gave him another hug and exited the shop. Mikeal turned as Adam approached and took the tea that the other boy gave him.
“Are you okay?” Adam asked again.
Mikeal shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Adam took Mikeal’s other free hand and tugged him towards the entrance. “C’mon. Let’s get out of here."
- 25
- 6
- 1
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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