Summer - 1. Out in the Street

CJ loved any time he could be around his dad; living in different states, it was not often he could. Spending part of the summer vacation in Washington with his father was something special he looked forward to. It was always a treat to wander through the magnificent city, visiting museums and monuments. But the best part was their time together, something he didn’t think he could get enough of. His father always visited his parents in Miami during Thanksgiving; it was another chance for them to see each other. CJ had been excited when they had gone away together for a few days during spring break the previous two years.

They hadn’t seen each other since November, because of a school-sponsored mission to Haiti he had participated in this past spring. The current trip was different, though; instead of anticipating a wonderful time, he dreaded the upcoming reunion. He’d spent the two and a half hour flight from Miami International replaying the events of the past couple of days in his head. One thought kept running through his mind: How could things have gone so wrong so quickly?

César nervously paced in front of the Concourse B Security Checkpoint at Washington’s National Airport―he had never gotten used to the Reagan name on the old, convenient facility. To him, it would always be National. The Delta flight carrying his son from Miami had just landed, and he wasn’t sure what to expect. Yesterday’s phone call from the boy’s mother had been short and to the point. Their son would be on a flight to D.C. the next morning; he would explain what was going on. She’d refused to answer any questions but asked him to call her after he had the opportunity to speak to the boy.

Arriving travelers streamed down the corridor, while the tall, dark-haired man anxiously scanned the crowd. His confusion about the cryptic telephone conversation and his apprehension about CJ’s well-being were evident on his face. At last, the flow of people eased, and César smiled when he saw a young man who had to be CJ. However, what a difference from what the kid had looked like the previous Thanksgiving. Walking towards him was a muscular teen who had hit a growth spurt―a very significant growth spurt. At least four inches in the last six months. He had also added quite a few pounds of what looked like solid muscle.

“CJ!” The father waved and called out to his son. Hearing his name, the teen lifted his gaze slightly and slowly dragged himself towards his dad, as if carrying the burdens of the world on his back.

“Hi, Dad.”

“Wow, I barely recognized you, buddy. You’ve gotten so big. How are you?” He threw his arms around his son, wrapping him in a hug.

That was all it took for the emotions to take over; the boy began sobbing against his father’s chest, while repeatedly mumbling how sorry he was.

“Hey, hey! Whatever you think you have to apologize for’s probably not so bad. I’m sure we can work it all out. How many pieces of luggage did you check-in? Let’s go get them and head home.”

César Marcos Abelló, Jr. was a fairly typical teenager until two days before he arrived in Washington when everything went awry at home and his life was turned upside down.

Born in Miami, CJ moved to Germany with his mother when his step-father was transferred to Ramstein Air Base. The family—augmented by the birth of a brother—returned to South Florida in 2009. A bright, but at times reserved kid, CJ made friends easily, and had no problems adjusting to life back in the United States.

A straight ‘A’ student, the teen also participated in several athletic endeavors, both individual and team sports; his favorite activity, however, was spending time with his younger brother, Ritchie. The five-year age difference was never an issue and the older boy delighted in having the youngster tag along with him wherever he went.

“I’m sorry, Dad. I swore I wasn’t gonna be a wimp.” He adjusted his backpack and started walking towards the baggage claim area, as he wiped his face with the back of his hands. “There’s one suitcase and two very large duffle bags.”

“It’s okay, bud. Let’s get your luggage. We can spend some time figuring out what’s going on after.” César hesitated. “That’s a lot of luggage for a summer vacation. How come?”

CJ came to a sudden stop. “Oh crap! Mom didn’t tell you? She said she’d talked to you. That I was gonna be living with you here in D.C. from now on. They threw me out in the street and now I’m going to be homeless!”

César’s mouth hung open in complete surprise. Seeing his boy’s eyes start to tear up again, he put an arm around the teen’s shoulders. “CJ, I have no idea what’s going on, but I promise you’ll never be homeless as long as I’m around. Whatever happened’s got you scared, and you’re not thinking clearly. You know better. You’ll always have a home here with us.” The man hoped the emphasis he tried to place on his words would help soothe the boy’s obvious fears.

The drive from the airport to Georgetown was not long. It took just a bit over fifteen minutes: the George Washington Parkway, the Francis Scott Key Bridge across the Potomac, and into the exclusive old neighborhood. Conversation was minimal inside the car, both men lost in their thoughts, with no mention of the situation.

César stole glances at his son, while maneuvering through the always-heavy Washington area traffic, still not believing the physical change. CJ’s growth had him close to six feet. Gone was the lanky kid, replaced by a buff young man. The way his shirt stretched across his chest and arms, there was no doubt the boy had packed on quite a few pounds of muscle. CJ was shaving regularly, the stubble on his cheeks and chin was dark and thick, and he could grow a full beard if he wanted. His dark hair reached down to the shirt collar, standing up all over the place on top, framing a handsome face. An attractive young man who appeared to be older than his actual age, he had gone from being a skinny kid to a young stud in months.

The appraisal made César think his son was most likely fending off young women right and left. The line of thought led him to wonder if the boy was sexually active and whether it might be why he had been sent north. Could he have gotten in trouble with a girl? He would wait until they got home. Hopefully, the youngster would relax, and they could chat about whatever had transpired back in Miami.

If what CJ had said turned out to be true―the boy was going to be living with his father permanently―it was going to be great to finally have the opportunity to watch him grow up.

The black Escalade turned into a double driveway serving the two homes on either side of it. As the SUV passed the end of the house, it angled a bit left, drove over a brick patio up to the opening garage door, and pulled into the middle of the large space. To the right were two covered motorcycles, along the back wall were shelves full of boxes. Tools hung from peg-board panels and were also scattered over a couple of narrow workbenches. On the other side of the empty space to the left, there was a short hallway leading to an elevator, and a door opening into the home’s first floor.

Built at the beginning of the 1950s, the house had been extensively remodeled at various times, the most recent upgrades having been made in 2010 when César bought the place. At the time, the home’s interior was gutted and completely rebuilt. The building rose three stories above street level with a rooftop terrace crowning the structure. A full-sized basement was only partially finished but provided plenty of space for any future needs. The elevator had been installed by a previous owner, who had a wheelchair-bound child, and was convenient for moving large items between floors.

“Hey, kiddo, grab your backpack and suitcase. I’ll take the two duffle bags in. Let’s put everything in your room, and you can freshen up. We cleaned it up yesterday after your mother called, so it’s ready and waiting for you. Don’t bother unpacking yet, we can hang out and catch up. We’ll figure out what to do about food a bit later.”

After carrying the luggage up to the second floor, César pointed at the bathroom, mentioning there were fresh towels inside, and he would meet the young man downstairs. Once in the living room, he moved toward the bar on the side and grabbed himself a Dos Equis Amber, popped the bottle cap, and took a long swig of the beer. A little early on a Thursday to start drinking, but he needed to relax. It was imperative he control his emotions, think clearly, and be steady until he figured out what was going on.

Ten minutes later, CJ walked in, looking hesitant, and keeping his eyes on the rich Persian rug covering most of the highly polished wood floor. He wore the typical South Florida teenage uniform of flip-flops, cargo shorts, and a t-shirt. A light gray Miami HEAT one, with the outline of a basketball and HEAT in dark red—a small flame extended from atop the T.

“What can I get you to drink, buddy?” asked César with a smile on his face.

The boy looked down and softly asked if he could have a beer.

OK, something to file away for further discussion. César wondered if the trouble in Miami could have been related to alcohol or drugs. He thought it unlikely, knowing what he knew about CJ. Not wanting to make a big deal of it at the moment, he pulled another bottle from the refrigerator under the bar top, and opened it for his son. CJ was just taking a seat on one of the stools across from his father.

“Thanks, Dad,” said CJ, smirking. The first time there had been even a small hint of a smile since arriving. “Don’t worry, I don't have a drinking problem. I just want to calm down a little, so I can talk to you”.

The older man smiled again, realizing his son was one smart cookie. He would keep an eye out for any sign of trouble but decided a long discussion about alcohol was not needed then. Instead, he would handle it right this minute with a couple of sentences. “That’s good to hear, buddy. I don’t mind you having a drink now and then, but until you turn twenty-one, it’s illegal for you to consume alcohol. We could get in trouble. Our country’s stupid puritanical laws won’t even allow a parent to give his kids a drink in their own home. Think about that whenever you decide to have a cocktail. At least until you hit the magic age. You’re not a little kid, and I won't treat you like one. I’m not going to keep an inventory of the alcohol in the house. I’m pretty sure you’re smart enough to do what’s right.”

CJ looked at his dad with a trace of another smile and nodded.

“So, you think you’re ready to fill me in on what happened?” César kept his eyes on the boy.

CJ looked up at his dad, his eyes filling up with tears again, and blurted out: “I’m gay. Rich caught me fooling around with one of his soldiers and told Mom he didn't want me to live in their house anymore. He said I had to move in with you or go to boarding school. A faggot living under his roof wasn’t acceptable. I would be a bad influence on my brother.”

Catching his breath, he began sobbing again. He put his head down on the wooden surface in front of him and just cried. César walked around the bar and grabbed his son in the tightest hug he could muster. Stroking CJ’s hair, the heartbroken father tried to calm him down. His thoughts, however, were anything but calm. Who gave a shit if the boy was gay, in this day and age? It was the twenty-first fucking century and his step-father was acting like a troglodyte. How could anyone be so stupid and so heartless? Rich better not show his face around any time soon, or he would end up in the hospital for sure. Bashing his head in would be a pleasure if I see him.

“CJ, look at me. Look at me, kiddo.” He unwrapped himself from around his son, helping him sit back on the stool. “Why don’t I dump these two beers and get us two tall glasses of cold milk and some Oreos? They work best for me when I need to chill. And let’s go sit down on the couch, we’ll be more comfortable.”

“Okay…” CJ mumbled the word while nodding.

Trying not to display the anxiety and anger coursing through him, César returned with the promised treats, sat next to his son, and put an arm around him, gently pulling the boy into his body. The next ninety minutes were spent trying to reassure CJ his world had not collapsed. “Yes, you’ll have to change schools, and you’ll leave behind your friends. But it’s okay to start over. I did it when I moved to Washington, and so can you. And you most definitely have a home. So no more of that crap.”

CJ nodded softly and reached out for his glass of milk. César smiled at the sign of normalcy. All their lives would be affected, and they would have to adjust accordingly. But they were in this together, and together they would work it all out.

The continued reassurances had the desired effect. After a while, CJ relaxed, regained his composure, and took an interest in his dad’s comments about the move from South Florida to the nation’s capital. He had the next few months to get settled in and that would not be very hard considering this was not his first summer at the large Georgetown brownstone. The big changes would come in late summer when he would start tenth grade in a new high school. He would miss his friends and his old school, but the possibilities for him were good in his new city. Once he overcame the current crap he was going through, he was sure the future would not appear so daunting.

Suddenly, a deep rumble came from his midsection and both father and son chuckled.

“I guess that means your stomach wants to be fed?”

“Yeah, I’m a growing boy, you know?”

“I can just imagine how much a growing fifteen-year-old can eat. If you’re anything like your old man was, our food budget will definitely have to be increased. Guess I’ll have to postpone my retirement for at least six months so we can afford to eat!”

Their laughter intensified each time one of them looked at the other and realized the absurdity of the last portion of their conversation. As their mirth subsided, the sound of keys in a lock made them turn to look at the back door.

“Honeyyy, I’m hooome!” It was a familiar voice. “It’s lunchtime, and I’m hungry. Oh, and did we finally get a visit from the stork? Do we have a new bundle of joy to take care of?”