Moving Forward - 17. Moving Beyond

Moving Beyond

Wow… Geez. I don't know how Pops and Dad figured out how the hell to start writing. Whatever, I'm just going to go for it. I don't think I've written anything longer than a grocery list in the past thirty years or so, so it'll probably be crap, but I guess I just need to get started. The question is where…

I guess I should start by saying my name is Zach Hudgins. Noah and Scott were my fathers – although I always called them Dad and Papa (or Pops) respectively. Pops passed away from cancer about thirty years ago, and Dad died in his sleep about six months ago.

The worst thing about not knowing how to start writing this is I've had three decades to figure this shit out. And I know what I want to say, or at least I think I do. It doesn't help that Shannon and I have talked about what I would write off and on for ages, and she's sitting next to me watching me type and making fun of me. Our wives, Joanna and Melissa, are in the other room laughing and telling stories. Probably on the second bottle of wine for the night, at least. Wow. Shannon just pointed out that I just called our wives a couple of drunks. Not that Shannon and I are completely sober either. We have talked about writing this for the past few months, and have brainstormed and jotted down a few ideas. Shannon and Melissa came over for dinner, and a few drinks later, this seemed like the perfect time to sit down and actually write my side of the story. Our plan is to recall what we remember happening while our fathers were each writing their story. Of course, Shannon wasn't around until most of the way through Dad's, but still. We don't have any notes, other than the copies of the two stories. Hopefully this goes well, but… who knows…

When I was eight, Scott walked out on Dad and I. It tore me and Dad apart when he left, and when Scott came back, it took a long time for me to forgive him. I'll get to that, I promise, but I only include it here because one of the things Dad did when we were working to rebuild our family was sit me down and read some passages from some binder filled with stuff that Scott wrote about me. It wasn't until a few years after Pops died, and Dad wrote his own story that he gave me a copy of both to read.

And Shannon just pointed out that it's already confusing as hell with me calling them by both their first names and 'Dad' and 'Papa'. She's also giving me hell because she always called Pops 'Dad' so she's saying she can't follow me. I think she's just being a pain in the ass. Yes, Shan, that's staying in. Anyway, I'm going to call them both by their first names from here on. It might get a bit weird, but that way there's less confusion.

Anyway, Dad – er, I mean Noah – thought I would appreciate reading the story Scott wrote about how we became a family. He also wanted to show me how the rest of their lives unfolded, something of an homage to Scott's life. I started by reading what Scott had written, Moving On: How I Lost the Love of My Life and Found My True Love.

Growing up, I knew about Scott's previous relationship with Steve, and I knew Steve had died. I remember visiting his grave a few times when I was little, and more often after Scott and Noah got back together, since that was also where my sister, Mia, was buried after her very short life. Of course, I still visit Steve's grave and pay my respects to him, but I'll be honest to say he's more of an afterthought. Both my fathers are buried there as well. Wow… that got dark faster than I intended. Anyway, Scott even talked about Steve a little, but it was difficult as a child to fully understand the significance of Steve to Scott. All I knew is Scott was with my father, and I didn't fully understand the concepts of love and loss.

As an adult, I can't even imagine losing Jo to something as tragic and senseless as a burglary gone wrong. I have no clue what I would do or how I would react. I'm so glad that time managed to heal the wounds in Scott's heart so he could find love with Noah. They were the best fathers a kid could ever ask for.

Now as for my perspective on the rest of Scott's story, it's a bit murky. I remember bits and pieces of that time, but to be fair, I was four years old. Truthfully, I don't even know what I actually remember versus what I remember being told to me as I grew up. I'm trying my best to only include what I actually remember, although based on the stories I've heard, Scott did a pretty good job summing up what actually happened.

I know I spent the first four years of my life living in a trailer park with my mother, a crack-whore named Willow. I don't really remember the trailer. I don't really even remember the time Noah brought Scott to meet me. I remember Dad bringing someone to see me, and he'd never done that before. The only other thing I actually remember from that day was some giant, scary mouse coming up to me. That has to be when they took me to get pizza for lunch. That night, Willow set the trailer on fire. I know I called Scott and dialed 911, but I don't remember any of that. I do remember a lot of flashing lights and smoke.

Honestly, I don't have too many concrete memories of the first several months living with Scott. I remember the burgundy SUV we called 'Grape', but I don't remember being there when they bought it, let alone being responsible for the color or the name. We went to the Zoo and Aquarium regularly when I was growing up, but it was always just something we did. Don't get me wrong, I always loved it, but I don't remember it being particularly special – partially because we lived so close we visited one or the other nearly every weekend, so I'm sure I don't remember the first time we went to either. I do seem to recall calling it the Ackwamiam for a long time, though. That's not funny, Shannon. You used to say 'pasghetti'. Yes you did. Stop laughing. Sisters can be so damn annoying sometimes. Especially adopted ones.

Ok, sorry. We're better now. I should probably point out here that Shannon is my best friend in the whole world. We were never that close when growing up, but then there is a decade between us. Shannon was still in elementary school when I left for college. Hell, she was only twelve when I got married to Jo. Despite the way we act sometimes, I love the little shit, and I know she loves me. Our fathers both had sharp wits and knew how to use them. I'm sure on the outside, we looked highly dysfunctional, but we were a deeply loving family. We just loved to tease each other. Banter and over-exaggeration abounded in our house. Jo and I have some of that, but not to the same extreme. Melissa and Shannon, on the other hand, are exactly like our fathers.

Anyway, I do remember going to court, and being terrified they would take me away from Scott and Noah. Unfortunately, that's about all I remember. In my defense, I was four. Oh, and the stuffed panda and penguin Scott wrote about giving me… I'd have to ask Jo to be certain, but I'm pretty sure those are long gone. Scott gave one to each of the twins when they were little, and they loved them. Hard. Knowing how big of a packrat Scott was, I'm sure evidence of our first vacation where I met his family and went to Disney World still exists somewhere. Again, I don't remember that trip, but I remember several wonderful family vacations over the years.

So I think that about sums up what I know from what Scott wrote. It's not very helpful, I know, but I was little. But can we talk for a minute about the nastiness that my fathers got up to? Part of me wants to pick the laptop up, throw it across the room, and run away screaming. Gross. No one wants to think about their parents having sex. On the other hand, even Shannon will admit – push comes to shove – it was kinda hot. I mean, I'm in my sixties and Shannon is in her fifties… neither of us are prudes. We know Scott and Noah had sex. We're not idiots. We lived with them; we could hear it. It's just so weird seeing it written down in such explicit details.

Ok, so jumping ahead to what Noah wrote. Fortunately, he used a far simpler title to remember when he finished writing the remainder of their story together: Moving Forward. No lengthy subtitle or anything. Of course, he tried to be clever by jumping back and forth between their wedding and everything leading up to Mia's death and the few days before Scott came back into our lives months later. That makes it more difficult to figure out exactly where to start. I'll just start with their wedding.

I do remember their wedding. Not like in a distinct way, but I remember being there and going to the reception. I remember the helicopter ride to the airport. That was fucking awesome! And I remember having a blast with Grandma and Grandpa (Steve's parents, for the record… wow, when I write this, I realize how dysfunctional our family sounds!) for the two weeks they were on their honeymoon.

I vaguely recall Mia's birth. I also remember her being really sick, but other than that, at eight, I was still too young to fully comprehend the severity of her condition. I mean I loved Mia, and I tried to be the best big brother I could, but the idea she might never learn to crawl, or walk, or talk, or any of the things babies are supposed to do as they get older was beyond my comprehension. I knew she was little and she needed me to be the best big brother I could. And of course, I remember when Mia died. God, I can't even fathom having to explain to a young child that they would never see their sibling again. Or worse… losing a child. Thank God neither Shannon nor I went through that with our families. I can completely understand how devastated Scott was.

Anyway, when she died, I honestly thought part of it was because I wasn't a good enough brother, and I hadn't loved her enough. In my defense, I was eight. I was so devastated when Noah and Scott told me she had died, because I blamed myself. This was before Scott sunk into his pit of despair. Both he and Noah were quick to try to convince me that I wasn't at fault. The vast majority of me believed them. It wasn't until we started attending therapy after Scott came back that I finally understood that there was absolutely nothing any of us could have done differently in the situation.

I remember getting ready for the funeral. Noah was struggling to keep it together, and I really wanted Scott to come, but nothing I said to him could convince him. I was a scared, hurt little boy and I wanted my Papa to comfort me and tell me everything was ok. The problem was he was hurting just as bad, if not worse, than I was. I was too young to understand that. I remember being so mad at him for not coming. I also remember being mad at Noah for allowing him to stay home.

For a little while, the connection between Noah and I seemed to get stronger. Scott was a mess, and I don't recall seeing much of him during that time. Things between my dad and I, however, kinda went back to life as usual. I think. It's hard to say for certain. I think in hindsight, everything was horribly strained and we were just trying to keep our heads above water. At the time, though, things seemed ok. But then we came home one day and Scott was gone.

Oh how I hated him. I hated him more than anyone ever has possibly hated anything. Scott had promised me time and time again he would never leave and yet he was gone. Even worse, he kinda took Dad with him. My dad was an empty shell, and I discovered I largely had to fend for myself. If I didn't make a sandwich when I was hungry, I wouldn't eat, since it never occurred to Dad that either of us needed food. After a while, Noah kinda started coming around. I think he finally realized how neglected I had been. No… neglected isn't the right word. In reality, that phase didn't last long – maybe a couple weeks, but it really sticks out in my mind. At least I had one father back. He tried his best. I remember taking a few weekend road trips with him to try to clear our heads, and we went to the zoo and stuff like that. At times, things seemed to get back to a sense of normalcy, but they never lasted before the realization of the void in our lives resurfaced.

And of course, then Scott walked right back into our lives as if nothing had happened. Did I mention how much I hated him at this point? Of course Noah didn't make it any better when he told me to try to give Scott a chance. The entire time, all I could think about was 'another chance to do what? Hurt us again? No thanks!'

At first, the only times I saw Scott was once a week at therapy. Then, he would take me to get ice cream or whatever. I don't know how it happened. I never meant for it to, and I swore it would never happen. I mean I was just allowing him to buy me things. But somehow he managed to make me love him again. Before I knew it, he was my Papa again. Of course, I look back, and realize the reason I so passionately hated him was because my feelings ran that deep. I loved my Papa so deeply that when he left, those feelings became hate. It's not a huge surprise that once I was able to begin to forgive him, the love returned as well.

That's not to say it was an overnight transition. I think it was around the time Shannon came into our lives when I finally forgave him completely. I look back now, and it really, really sucks that Scott left for a while, but I'm not sure looking back that I'd change anything. Maybe it's the passage of time, and fifty years has dulled the pain of Scott leaving. Knowing my fathers the way I do, I'm not sure we ever would have fully recovered as a family from the death of Mia if Scott's actions hadn't forced us into every type of therapy imaginable. So I guess in that aspect, Scott leaving ended up bringing the three of us closer together as a family.

I was a bit surprised that Tom seemed to drop out of Noah's story pretty quickly after he and Scott reconciled. Tom was Steve's brother, and he came into my life the same time Scott did. I knew he worked with my fathers when they first grew Hudgins Design, but it wasn't until I joined the company that I realized what role he held in the beginning. I don't think he ever intended to stay with the company as long as he did. If my memory serves me correctly, he agreed to help get it going as a favor, but was going to find a replacement for himself once they got off the ground. Then Mia came, and Scott walked away from everything. I'm not sure exactly when he stopped working there, but it was probably not long after everything returned to normal for us at home. He still lived just down the street for many years, until he and Tina moved to Florida. I remember visiting them and them coming up and visiting us.

I remember Brandi and Deshawne, but I think of them more as neighbors than as some sort of family. I'll let Shannon write her piece on them in a bit. I didn't know them well, and I never really had any reason to interact with them. They lived in the apartment above our garage, so I saw them from time to time, but that was about it. Of course, they brought Shannon into my life. I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not! Kidding… I was so excited and proud to be a big brother to her.

It was so weird to read about the time I 'came out' to them from Noah's perspective. Even when I told them, I knew it wasn't true. I knew I liked girls. Granted, it wasn't until college that I really ever considered that I might like guys as well, but I'll get to that. I had completely forgotten about that one really awful date I went on when I was young. Looking back, I feel horrible for that kid… what was his name? Max, maybe…? Honestly, I can't really remember. Although to be fair, I guess that's a good horrible date to get out of the way early in life. After that, the benchmark for a failed date is so low, all others have to be better in comparison.

In hindsight, especially having raised three kids of my own, I realize I didn't really give my parents the same hard time most of my friends did. I never really thought about it, but it's true – at least relatively speaking. Sure, I was embarrassed to be seen with them in public – at least a little. What I mean, though, is I don't recall any major acts of rebellion or horrible teenage angst. We had that with all three kids to one extent or another, and Shannon definitely had that with her boys. Shannon gave our parents a bit more grief than I did, but it was still a far cry from the teenage angst you see in movies, which is much closer to what we experienced as parents ourselves.

I went to a few parties, and I got drunk a few times. Noah was pretty accurate with that. I never made any attempt to hide my activities from them. I think our childhoods would have been far different if we'd grown up in a family that wasn't as open to discussing all the things you aren't supposed to talk about. And I remember the one party Noah wrote specifically about. The one where I smoked the only cigarette I ever had in my life. I don't know what I was thinking. I had seen how hard it had been for Scott and how many times he had tried and failed to quit completely. That night, however, for whatever reason, I decided to try one. It was horrible. I wasn't lying to my father when I said I didn't even finish and had no desire to ever try it again.

In high school, I was good at pretty much every sport I tried, and I loved them all, especially football. I think the reason I wanted to play at first was a level of hero-worship. I had heard all about Noah being the star quarterback in high school, and I wanted to make him proud. However, once I started playing, I did it for me. I loved that game so much, I think I would have been willing to give up all the other sports just to keep playing football if I had to.

When it came time to choose which college to attend, there wasn't a question in my mind where I wanted to go. I guess I hero-worshiped both my fathers a bit. I wanted to go to the same school Scott went to. When I got a football scholarship there, it was a done deal.

I guess this is as good of a time as any to pass the laptop and give Shannon a chance to talk about her life a bit. So here's my sis.

– * * –

Ugh. You know I hate you right? I don't know what to say. Noah and Scott were fantastic parents. Your turn again, Zachy. Not good enough? Ugh. I hate you.

Ok, so obviously, I'm adopted. I mean I'm the only girl in the family, so it should be obvious. Well, more the fact that neither of my fathers would have been able to get it up for a woman no matter how hard they tried. Oh, and I guess there's the fact I'm the only one in the family that doesn't resemble an albino.

I remember my birth parents, Brandi and Deshawne. Not well, mind you. They weren't in my life for long, and I really only saw them once or twice a year. And that's fine. I'm glad they did the responsible thing, knowing they weren't ready for children, and gave me up for adoption. I can't even begin to imagine having grown up under any other circumstances. And that's really all I have to say about them. As much trash-talking as we do as a family, it comes from a place of love. I don't have many good things to say about my birth parents, but I don't really have anything bad to say either. As Noah wrote over and over again, it is what it is.

It's weird having a brother that's ten years older than you. When I started kindergarten, he was old enough to drive me to school. We went to the same private school, and all grades were on the same campus, just different buildings. It's kinda hard to get close to a sibling that's on the varsity football team when you're still in elementary school. I mean, at the time, you just have literally nothing in common. But talk about hero-worship. I looked up to Noah and Scott and all that, but I literally worshiped the ground my brother walked on. He would have friends over and I would do my damndest to not act like a seven-year-old loser and try to fit in. Of course, Zach being Zach, he never let me feel out of place, and would never allow any of his friends to make me feel anything less than completely welcome.

Granted, my experience growing up after Zach went off to college couldn't have been more different than Zach's, however. I was twelve when Zach brought Joanna home from college for spring break. I knew something had been wrong with Dad for a while, but I can't pinpoint how long I'd known. I tried to bring it up to Dad, but he just told me that Dad had been under a lot stress at work and not to worry about it. Ok, Zach, now I get what you're talking about. It doesn't work and it's confusing. It's just weird writing their names. Ok, so let me try that again.

I knew something had been wrong with Scott for a while, but I can't pinpoint how long I'd known. I had tried to bring it up to Noah, but he just told me Scott had been under a lot stress at work and not to worry about it. I heard Joanna asking Zach about it, too. I wanted to talk to Zach, but I didn't know how. To this day, part of me wonders if I there was something I could have said or done to make Scott see a doctor earlier, and they would have caught the cancer in time. I know that's completely irrational. Scott successfully beat cancer the first time, but it came back years later. Trust me, I don't blame myself, but whenever my mind goes to dark places, the first 'what if' it visits is always that one.

Anyway, I get what Zach's saying about feeling abandoned by both parents after Scott left them. I kinda felt the same way when Scott was diagnosed with cancer. I mean I was a twelve-year-old girl. They tried to spend as much time as they could with me, but Noah was far more concerned with Scott's health. And I get that, I do. Of course, that's when Zach and I started getting closer.

This is why the age difference between us sucks, Zachy. I know the plan was for me to write everything building up to me going off to college, but once Scott got cancer the first time, I spent a lot of time hanging out with you and Joanna. Kinda hard to write about that if you haven't written about meeting her yet. So I guess I'm going to pass the laptop back to you for now, and let you finish through college before I take a stab at the rest.

– * * –

Yeah, Shannon's right. I guess I just wanted to give a sense of equity here, but the age difference does make that difficult.

College was wonderful. It's strange to think about it. I had never really been restricted by my fathers. My curfew was always fairly lenient and all they asked was that I was honest about what I was doing and who I was with. However, as soon as Noah and Scott left the first day, I felt completely free. I no longer needed to tell them what I was doing, or who I was hanging out with. Granted, I was close to my parents – especially Scott. We would exchange brief texts nearly every day, and I always told them (pretty much) everything I had been up to, going into extensive details about things they didn't need to know about. We had always had an open dialog in our house, and it seemed natural to continue it for the most part.

While Noah and Scott knew most of the details of my social life, I kept much of my romantic life fairly private. I had my share of one-night stands, but I also had a fairly steady stream of short-lived relationships. I didn't care if my fathers knew I was having sex, but I had always admired their relationship and I found myself holding back introducing a girl I was dating unless I could see us one day having the same sort of relationship Noah and Scott had.

That's the long way of saying they didn't generally have a clear sense of who I was dating whenever we spoke or they came to visit. Which leads into me sharing a bit about my bit of college 'experimentation'. Don't give me that look, Shannon. Joanna knows about it, and it's not like it's something I'm ashamed of.

Junior year, I dated this girl, Mandy, for almost two months. I wanted to like her, I really did. She was hot as hell, and at the time, I thought there was a real possibility that she could be the one. She was kinky as all get up and I was wrapped around her finger. One time, she suggested we have a threesome with a guy she knew. When I questioned whether things would get weird between us afterwards, she actually accused me of being homophobic. I had never honestly thought about having sex with another guy before, but I wasn't opposed to it, and it was her idea, so I agreed. There weren't really any ground rules laid out, so we just kinda all started making out as we stripped our clothes off. As the night progressed, we just kinda explored. At one point, John was going down on Mandy, and without thinking about it, I took his dick in my mouth. I mean we were all in the same bed, naked and horny.

It turns out, Mandy really just wanted to have sex with two guys at the same time. She didn't know that John was bi and that I honestly didn't care. She freaked out and broke up with me. A few days later, I got a text from John that he thought I was really hot and that was part of the reason he had agreed to the threesome in the first place. John and I actually ended up dating for longer than Mandy and I did. We never really got to the point where I saw a future with him, but it was a fun three months.

No, Shannon, I'm not going to go into graphic detail about the things we did. Why do you want me to, anyway? You don't even like men by themselves, let alone when they're in bed together. Ok, fine. I'll at least give a little information. John was the only guy I was ever with, but he really opened my eyes to a lot of things. I enjoyed sucking his dick, I did. I also discovered I enjoy a dominant man who knows what he wants and makes sure he gets it. Is that enough for you? Ok, fine. John was a top. He let me top him the first time, so I knew what it felt like, but after that, I was exclusively the bottom in our relationship. And that was fine with me. I enjoyed it. I'm sure you stumbled on our toy chest at some point when you were younger. Those are not toys we used that often, but every now and then, Jo has enjoyed playing dominatrix over the years. Whenever she was in the mood, I was never one to deny her that. Hell, we never did, but if she ever wanted to bring another guy into the bedroom, I would have agreed in a heartbeat. I'm not sure I would have done the same if she wanted to bring another woman into our bed, though. God, Jo is going to kill me when she sees this.

Anyway, John and I went our separate ways shortly before spring break of my junior year. I don't remember exactly why we stopped seeing each other, but I recall it had something to do with him wanting more. I liked John and all, but like I said, I never really saw a future with him. It turns out, it was a very fortuitous timing. A few weeks after spring break, I met Joanna. We went on a few dates, but nothing serious. I really liked her from the get-go, but she wasn't interested in anything serious. After the first few dates, we settled into a friendship, and even though I wanted more, I was willing to go along with it.

We texted back and forth all summer, and she quickly became one of my closest friends. It was a bit weird, because I had never really had too many female friends, but it was nice. When school started back up, we hung out a lot. One night, after a party, we were hanging out at my apartment, both of us drunk. One thing led to another, and we spent the rest of the weekend in bed. Before she left, I admitted my feelings to her, knowing our friendship was probably over either way. I knew sex had a way of changing things. Fortunately, she felt the same way. Since I hadn't attempted to ask her out again after we came back from the summer break, she figured I wasn't interested in her other than a friend, so she had avoided the topic as well.

We started dating, and things moved quickly. Not as quickly as things did between Scott and Noah, mind you, but we had exchanged 'I love you's after about a month. I had absolutely no doubt in my mind that she was the one I was going to grow old with. That's part of the reason I insisted on us visiting Noah and Scott for spring break. I wanted them to get to know the woman I was planning on marrying. I had this entire elaborate thing planned for immediately after graduation. I still ended up proposing the day after graduation. Instead of some elaborate romantic gesture, I brought it up while we were lying in bed in a very spur of the moment decision. I pointed out it wasn't perfect timing, especially with Scott about to undergo extensive treatment for cancer, but I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. I told her I would understand if she wanted to wait. She practically jumped me.

When I graduated, Joanna and I moved to Atlanta, where I took a position at my fathers' company and Joanna took a teaching position at a local elementary school. We ended up in an apartment maybe ten or fifteen blocks from the house I grew up in.

All right, Shannon. That should set it up nicely for you to take back over.

– * * –

Yeah, so like I said, when Scott was diagnosed with lung cancer the first time, he and Noah kinda disappeared into their own little world. Like they still took care of me, and all that, but Noah was always focused on whatever was necessary for Scott's recovery more than anything else. Other than dinner time, and shuttling me around as needed, I often just felt ignored and in the way. I never brought it up to them, because I understood that Dad was sick, and the number one priority for the family was getting him better, but I was a kid, dammit… pay attention to me!

So I did the only rational thing a twelve-year-old could do. I packed up all the belongings I thought I'd ever need – mostly toys, mind you – and ran away from home. I think I made it like three blocks before I realized I had nowhere to go. So I ended up running away from my parents only to go to my big brother's house. Great thinking, Shan… they'll never find me there!

At this point, Scott had retired from Hudgins Design, and Noah was guiding Zach through all the things he needed to do to take over the majority of the business operations. Fortunately, Joanna was home from work by the time I got there. I'm sure she immediately called Scott to tell him what was going on, but I remember her and Zach kept up the illusion I had successfully run away from home all weekend. Sunday afternoon, I announced it was time for me to go back home. Noah and Scott picked me up, and acted like they hadn't seen me in years. It made me feel so damn loved, even though I realize as an adult it was all an act. That was a serious mistake on their part. Somehow, I connected the act of rebellion as getting a bit of extra love and attention from my fathers.

I never tried to run away again, but I started regularly going over to Zach and Joanna's apartment. Sometimes, it was just for a few hours. Others, it was for a week or more at a time. I think that's when I started to become close to my big brother, although it would be years before I could tolerate the asshole enough to consider him my bestie. Zach and Joanna always treated me like an adult while I was at their place. Joanna taught me how to cook, and Zach and I would spend hours playing video games together. They would stay up all night with me watching horror movies, and wouldn't bat an eye when I dropped an f-bomb or five. In short, it was every teenager's idea of a dream escape from home, and I loved it. Initially, I only went over when I needed to get away from everything going on with Scott's cancer treatments, but over time, I found myself there just because I wanted to spend time with my brother.

Of course, it wasn't all about my loser big brother, especially early on. See, as soon as Joanna moved to Atlanta, she went into full-on wedding mode. And it was so awesome, because she kept letting me help. Well, not so much actually help, but she made me feel like I was helping. It's not like I was allowed to make any real decisions, or anything. But I got to come with her to see venues, do tastings, and even dress fittings.

Shit… Wait, so how the hell is this supposed to work now? Do we kinda tell our stories in parallel here? Or do I just keep going through high school and me going off to college and meeting Melissa and all that shit and then we jump back to you and your stupid wedding? No, I don't want to write about your damn wedding. Ok, we're taking a drink break while we figure this out.

– * * –

Ok, so I'm back on the laptop while Shannon pouts in the corner. Yes, I wrote it. Stop pouting. Because you cannot hog the entire damn bottle of tequila. Sharing is caring, Shan! Anyway, so after a brief argument in the kitchen, we've decided to go back and forth a bit. Wow our fathers had their shit so much more together than we do right now. Then again, what do you expect when we have no notes to go off of, just memories and vague ideas of where we want to take this and a rough sense of what we are trying to achieve by writing this. Also, pretty sure neither Scott nor Noah was drunk while they wrote.

Anyway, as the date of our wedding approached, Scott's cancer treatments were wracking his body. He was so weak and frail. It was honestly terrifying to see him like that. Even standing up exhausted him, so he spent most of his time sitting on the couch. Of course, Noah was working himself into the ground, trying to care for Scott around the clock, and stressing himself sick to make sure everything was perfect for the man he loved, my Papa.

Joanna and I did everything we could to help, but Noah didn't want us to worry about them, and it was only through Shannon we would gleam anything that hinted at exactly how bad the situation was. Scott was fighting the cancer, and he was winning. I don't mean to imply any of us thought he wasn't going to get through it. It was just… rough.

I decided to do something wonderful for both of my fathers for my wedding. And then Scott announced he didn't want to burden us with his presence at the wedding. No one wanted to see a frail old man sit in a chair all evening, drifting in and out of slumber because even watching everyone else have fun was too tiring for him, he claimed. It took all of us begging him to actually attend, but I think what got him to finally agree was Noah threatening to tie him down in a wheelchair so he didn't have a choice.

For Dad, I decided to not have a bachelor party. Instead, I took him out for a night on the town. He only agreed to go because I showed up with Jason and Will, their best friends, and told him that they were going to hang with Scott and he had no choice but to come with me.

We went to fancy restaurant for dinner, hit up a couple bars, and then basically did anything he wanted to do, the whole night long. We talked and joked the whole night away, not getting home until well past last call. I'm pretty sure we even danced together in some random club at one point. The only topic of discussion off limits was Scott's health. After so many months of dealing with his husband's cancer, my dad needed one night off. And I was more than happy to give that to him.

As much as I wanted to do something nice for my dad, I wanted to go really overboard with Scott. First off, Scott is a big old drama queen. He loves, loves, loves dramatic grand gestures. More importantly, though – and this is going to sound really bad – Scott was my go-to father. I don't mean he was my favorite parent, because I don't know if I could honestly say I preferred one of them over the other. What I mean is Scott was always the one I went to first when I needed help. He was the one I knew how to manipulate into getting what I wanted when I was little. He was the one who had the magical kiss that could instantly heal all owies and booboos. I mean Dad was fantastic at all that, but Papa was perfect at it. The first week of college, when I was so homesick I briefly considered transferring back home, he was the one I called. I knew anything special I did for him had to showcase exactly how much Scott meant to me. I love Joanna. She completes me. She's the one who came up with the idea and set everything up.

On the day of our wedding, I was pleasantly surprised when Noah pushed a wheelchair-bound Scott into the church. Scott was nothing if not proud. He had had that chair for months, but I only saw him use it once or twice. He hated that damn thing, and I don't blame him. I can't imagine how helpless a strong-willed man like Scott felt stuck there. At the wedding reception, we did the traditional first dance, followed by Joanna dancing with her father. When she finished, I took the microphone and called Scott onto the dance floor. I had told my dad what was coming, and I could see the joy in his eyes as he blinked away a couple tears as he rolled Scott onto the dance floor.

I took Scott's hand and helped him to his feet as I described as many of the elements of his and my history that were relevant, partially for the sake of those who were not aware of them, but mostly to show Scott just how much he meant to me. I don't remember exactly what I said, but I told the story of Noah bringing Scott to meet me and taking me out for pizza was essentially their first 'real' date, reminded him of all the skinned knees he'd bandaged and all the tears he'd kissed away when I was little. I told of the fatherly advice he'd given over the years, and how he'd unwaveringly been there for me throughout my life.

I handed the microphone off, and the band began to play. I wrapped my arms around Scott and held him close as we swayed to Brad Paisley's He Didn't Have to Be. When the song was over, I kissed Scott's cheek and told him I loved him before I walked him back to his wheelchair, giving Noah a hug and kiss as well before the music kicked back up and people started flocking to the dance floor.

– * * –

Shit, Zach… how the hell am I supposed to follow that?! I remember at your wedding thinking how I wanted that to be the song I danced with our dads at my wedding. I had everything all planned out, partially courtesy of Joanne letting me help with yours. I can't remember who my dream-partner was at that time. I think this was before I realized I liked girls, and it was Freddie, the boy who sat in front of me in class. Granted Freddie had long hair and feminine features. Huh… even when I liked boys, I still liked girls.

I'm not going to lie; I was one of the most popular girls in high school. I think it's because I was involved in pretty much every sport, and even freshman year was on the varsity field hockey team. I was friendly to pretty much everyone, and I was viewed as being a bit edgy – Noah and Scott let me get my eyebrow pierced when I was fifteen. To be fair, I was also one of the only black kids in the elite private school, so hanging out with me gave these entitled brats something of a 'street-cred'. Most of them meant well, but I could always feel the ignorance – if not outright racism – just beneath the surface. I did my best to just kinda grin and bear it.

Anyway, I never turned down an invitation to a party, and regularly found myself stumbling into the house well past curfew, completely drunk out of my mind. Noah kept trying to talk me into changing my ways. Scott took a different tact and made the fattiest, most stomach-churning-est hangover breakfasts after I'd been out – as loudly as he could, I might add. I'll admit those breakfasts always got me to swear off drinking – at least until I managed to get over the hangover!

I don't remember having a lot of arguments or fights with my fathers while I was in high school. I studied hard enough my grades were at least on par with Zach's, and other than parties and drinking, I didn't really act up too much. I liked tattoos and piercings, but as long as I proved to my fathers I was thinking about what I was doing, and understood any long-term consequences, they never really tried to stop me.

Actually, did you even know about the dads' tattoos, Zachy? You didn't? Excellent! Noah didn't write about them at all. I really, really wanted a tattoo of a butterfly on my hip when I was seventeen. Scott initially refused because it was permanent, and I'd have it the rest of my life. My response was something along the lines of 'I'll still like butterflies when I'm eighty'. Then I told them they didn't love anything as much as I loved butterflies, or else they'd understand why I wanted to get a tattoo of one. Noah replied he loved Scott far more than I loved butterflies. This led to that gross thing they always did where they started bickering about which one of them loved the other more. You know the thing I'm talking about, Zach. Eww. Next thing I know, I'm getting ushered to the car because they both need to get a tattoo to prove their love for the other. Realize they were in their early fifties at this point. And they're calling me the irrational one for wanting a butterfly at the age of seventeen!

They both got a tattoo of a heart on their hip. Noah's just had the letter 'S' in the middle. Scott's had 'S&N'. And me? I got my butterfly tattoo. Win.

I graduated third in my class. Ok, so I lied about my grades being on par with Zach's. I ended up getting accepted all over the country, and it was a really tough decision. Did I want to go to a stuffy elite university, or did I want to be able to see my fathers more often? In the end, I decided to go to a nearby school. I'll be honest, I chose it largely because it was close to Zach and Joanna, and I loved spending as much time with my big brother as I could. By the end of high school, he and I had become something of close friends. Still not the best friends we are now, but that wouldn't happen until after Scott passed. Shit… we didn't mention your kids yet, did we? Want to do that now, or save that for after I get through college before we start the really heavy shit? Yeah, let's wait. We can bookend the shit we don't want to write about with the kids. That might make it easier.

Ok, I lied again. I chose to stay close to home because of Zach, Joanna, and their newborn twins. Honestly, I chose to go to an all-girls school because I was frustrated I was still a virgin, and figured that was the best way to catch up. I had come out to the dads as a lesbian when I was fifteen, but I was already different enough in high school there weren't really any prospects. By the end of my second night of college, that had changed.

Unlike my big brother, I never experimented with "the cock", but college was definitely a time for me to rack up some serious notches on my bed post. I actually didn't have that many one-night stands. Rather, I remember one week where I went through three 'loves'. You know the stereotype of lesbians moving too quickly in relationships? There's some truth to that.

That changed junior year when I met Mel. Granted, we "dated" three or four separate times before we both realized the feelings we shared ran deeper than the feelings we were used to having with our significant other of the moment. Granted, I had brought several 'love of my life's home to meet the parents, but once I realized how I felt about Mel, I kinda hid her from them. I began pestering Zach and Joanna to find out when they knew they had met 'the one'. Finally, I called them up and asked to bring her home so the dads could meet her. I think I was worried the dads would either not like her or would think she was just another in a line of girls. In the end, its Noah and Scott; I had nothing to be worried about. Actually, dinner was kinda awkward, but only because the two of them kept shooting each other knowing looks and grinning.

Mel and I started spending more and more time at my parents, or with Zach and Joanna. The summer between junior and senior year, she and I moved into the apartment over my dads' garage. Melissa came out to her parents freshman year of college, and they'd disowned her, so instead of going home, she came to ours after we started getting serious.

We ended up living up over the garage for senior year. It was convenient, and rarely awkward. We had our own kitchen, so we really only saw my fathers in passing unless we went out of our way to do so. Mel and I noticed Scott's health seemed to be declining again shortly before Spring Break. So did everyone else. Scott told everyone he was fine, and the doctors hadn't found anything. We all bought it. I'm not sure why he felt the need to lie to us for those few months. I understand nothing could be done, but we were a family and that's one of those things families need to know.

Anyway, Mel and I went to Cabo San Lucas for Spring Break, where Melissa proposed to me. Dad must have forgotten exactly when that was when he was writing. We had a great time before coming back home and pushing through the remainder of our senior year. It wasn't until shortly after graduation that Scott came clean to Noah and the two of them sat the rest of us down and told us the truth about Scott's health.

Yeah, I so don't want to write this part. Zachy… how about we talk about the twins instead?

– * * –

Good call, sis. Actually, it's perfect to do this here, since some of my fondest memories of our fathers actually come watching them play with their first grandsons.

When Joanna and I got married, we both wanted to wait a bit to have kids. While Scott's health weighed on our minds, it was more that we wanted to be more established in our careers before we started a family. I had just recently graduated college and found myself largely running – with my dad's help, of course – a multi-million dollar company. Jo was just getting established in her teaching career and was worried that starting a family too soon would limit her options.

After a couple years, we stopped actively avoiding having kids. Jo went off the pill, and we decided to just see what happened. We weren't entirely sure we were ready to be parents, but knew we could step up if that happened. Honestly, we were both expecting her to get pregnant almost right away. After nearly a year of her not getting pregnant 'on accident', we started to try in earnest. Shannon was a junior in high school when Joanna excitedly shoved a positive pregnancy test in my face one evening while I was reading over some reports for the next day. The only complication we had during Jo's pregnancy was we discovered we weren't just having one kid. Twins. Both of us just looked at each other in shock when we heard that news.

Of course, once we told Scott and Noah the news, they didn't leave us room to freak out about the pending twin-pocolypse – what Scott called the impending birth of the twins… actually, he was the primary source for most of the twin puns that followed as well. By the time Jo was clearly showing, Scott and Noah had more than supplied us with all the baby supplies we would ever need… times two.

The twins were born about a month early. They were healthy, but a bit premature, and as a result got to spend a brief period in the NICU. The doctor had warned us that was a very likely outcome, so we made sure Scott and Noah were prepared. The last time they were in the NICU was with Mia, and I had no idea how well they would deal with it. To their credit, Noah didn't bat an eye the first time he walked in. Scott was a little pale and I could tell he was nervous, clutching Noah's hand as if he was about to have a panic attack. All that changed when they laid eyes on my sons – their grandsons – for the first time.

I think it was that first visit, when they were each holding a grandson for the first time that Colton and Colby earned the nickname they were stuck with for life. Scott was rocking Colton in his arms, and he whispered in the baby's ear just loud enough for me to hear, "You two are going to be quite the destructive duo when you get older, won't you?"

By the time the twins learned to crawl, they had perfected that nickname. They quickly learned how to climb onto each other to reach places there's no humanly way possible they could ever reach. Every time Jo and I breathed a sigh of relief that we'd finally made a room safe, we'd hear a crash and have to go running. They were escape artists that would have made Houdini proud. Don't even get me started on dealing with the terrible twos with twins…

Jo and I were always stressed and frazzled during that time. Fortunately, we had a willing set of grandparents a few blocks away who were always happy to steal our children. Unlike us, Noah and Scott never seemed to tire of their antics or let the stress of twins get to them. Even when something expensive broke, they just laughed it off, claiming it was time to redecorate anyway. While Noah was fantastic with the kids, it was Scott who always seemed to know exactly what to do or say in any situation. After reading his entire story and how naturally being a father to me came to him, I'm not really surprised.

– * * –

No, Zach. It was your idea to write this. I'm not writing this part. No, not even for the rest of the bottle of tequila.

---

Ok, fine. So obviously, this part is hard for both of us to write. But I guess it has to be done.

Just after Shannon graduated from college and the twins were four, Noah and Scott called everyone over to their house for a family dinner. Around the time they went to Cabo for spring break, they found an apartment and moved out from above our fathers' garage. While it wasn't uncommon for Jo, the twins, and I or for Shannon and Melissa to be invited over for dinner, it was rare that we all got together for a meal with the entire family. Shan and I talked back and forth a few times making a few guesses, but we were both wrong. We took Pops at face value when he swore to us he was fine. If I remember correctly, we both figured maybe they had decided to sell the house, or something.

But no. Scott's cancer had returned with a vengeance. He had almost no hope of a successful recovery, even with aggressive treatment. Instead, he opted to go for more pain management than actually fighting cancer. Honestly, I'm not sure which choice I would make in his shoes. Even at the end, he was more coherent and present than he was when he was wracking his body with the harsh cancer treatments the first time. While he was wheelchair-bound at the end, he kept his spirits and wit. As hard as it was to lose my father, it would have been much more devastating if he wasn't himself to the end.

– * * –

Ok, I have to take over from Debbie Downer. Yeah, the cancer was back, and it sucked. But we made the most of the time we had left with Dad. Mel and I had been talking about possibly getting married about a year after graduating. Instead, we rushed the wedding because I wanted Scott to be there. Actually, that's only half-true. Mel was just as insistent as I was that Scott be there.

It was a simple ceremony with just our closest family and friends in attendance. No pomp, no circumstance. It was a far cry from the fairytale wedding I had imagined ever since I had helped Joanna plan hers nearly a decade earlier. We didn't have time to find the best caterer, find the 'right' dresses, or anything. It was perfect in every way, and I treasure every moment of my memory of that day. Our 'honeymoon' was relegated to a single night in a hotel downtown. Again, perfect.

The next day, the eight of us flew off to Europe and spent the next two months traipsing from country to country. After the first week or so, we all kinda started drifting in our own directions. It started when Mel and I wanted to see Venice. We had just arrived in Rome about a week into the trip. When no one else wanted to come with, I decided we could just utilize the train passes we had and find a hostel or something. Even though my family had money, Mel and I had just graduated college and hadn't found jobs of our own yet. We could hardly afford to splurge. Noah took us by surprise by handing me one of his credit cards. He told us to text him whenever we wanted to meet up, otherwise, we'd meet up in Berlin in ten days. I'm not sure how long Zach, Jo and the twins stayed with Scott and Noah in Rome. Mel and I ran into them five days later while visiting a castle in Bavaria.

The end product was possibly the strangest vacation I think has ever happened. It was part romantic get-away and part family vacation. We would all meet up for a few days, then go our separate ways for a week or two. Inevitably, we'd randomly run into one part of the family or another along the way. Mel and I stumbled upon the dads while exploring the Louvre – a good three days before we were supposed to meet in Paris. We ran into Joanne while she was doing some shopping in Amsterdam – Zach had decided to follow Scott and Noah to Brussels with the twins. Whenever we would randomly come back together, we usually stayed paired up for a day or two before venturing out on our own again. The dads never strayed from each other, and Mel and I were always near each other. We took advantage of the timing and treated it as something of an extended honeymoon.

That all makes it sound like Dad's attempt at a last family memory became something of a free-for-all with each person concerned more about themselves than the group. I figure we probably spent at least half the time together. The thing is Europe is so big, and there are so many things to do. There were eight of us. Trying to create an itinerary that would satisfy everyone was impossible. Instead of doing so, we just each created our own and it ended up overlapping much of the time. Whenever we came back together, we each had our own stories to share and the first meals after each time we all reunited are probably some of the fondest memories of my life as we each recounted the things we had seen and shared pictures we had taken.

– * * –

Fine… you call me a downer, but you don't want to actually write the hard parts. I see how this is.

Yeah, that's a pretty good description of the vacation. For the record, that's the only time Joanna and I went separate ways. I had no idea where she was even going when she went to Amsterdam. She just told me she wanted to spend a couple days and get all the shopping out of her system and I should just spend some time bonding with my fathers. It wasn't until she showed up two days later and an entire suitcase filled with tschotskes – and even more shipped home as I would discover later – that I even knew where she had run off to. I mean we texted back and forth constantly and spoke on the phone both nights we were apart, so it wasn't a big deal.

After the trip, we all tried to return to normal, but it was hard. I had to throw myself into work pretty much as soon we got back. I wasn't surprised that Dad didn't return, but I also hadn't realized how much he had been running behind the scenes. Once he felt I was up to speed and could figure it all out, he was gone for good. I'm not sure he ever looked back. Once he took over Hudgins Design, it had been his baby, but at that moment, all he cared about was being there for Scott. I don't blame him.

Speaking of, our fathers spent nearly all their time together, and as much time as possible with either me, Jo, and the twins, Melissa and Shannon, or their friends. Scott seemed determined to live as much life as possible in those last few months. Whenever the weather was good, we spent the weekends in Piedmont Park. Noah and Scott would run around with the twins as much as they could, but my happiest moments were watching them sit on a park bench, holding each other's hands and smiling while they watched their grandsons run around the park. Invariably, there'd be lots of 'Grandpa, Grandpa! Watch this!' shouted every time one of the twins attempted something. While Jo and I were usually more likely than not to respond with barely a glance, Scott and Noah watched with full attention, fully taking in everything and loving every minute of it.

Scott's decline was rapid, but expected. Dad hit it right on the head when he said we stopped by every day towards the end. We didn't know exactly when Scott would pass, and we wanted to make sure we were able to be with him on his last day. Of course, when the last day came, Papa seemed to know before any of us. I came by that morning to bring Dad some breakfast, and I could tell just by looking at Papa that he knew his time had come. No sooner was I out the door than I was on the phone with Shannon to tell her. We spent much of the day sitting around the bed recounting stories from our childhoods and reliving as many of the fantastic memories we had. As Papa began to grow tired, we decided to give everyone one last chance to say goodbye to our father in private before he passed.

A few hours after I left my dads alone, I went in to check on them. Dad was holding Papa from behind, rubbing his chest and crying softly. It was obvious Pops had passed. I helped Dad climb out from under him and brought him downstairs where we all hugged and cried for hours.

We held the funeral the following weekend. Dad was actually doing better than I would have expected, but I think he just wasn't allowing himself to dwell on what had happened, and was instead focusing on what all needed to get done.

– * * –

It wasn't until life started getting back to normal for the rest of us that Mel and I noticed Dad wasn't really getting any better. I realized he didn't really have anything to do except spend his days in the house where he had raised a family with Dad. His kids were grown and his husband had died, and he was now stuck in an empty house filled with our ghosts.

Don't get me wrong, it wasn't like he was an empty shell, or anything. He just had a level of sadness that didn't really seem to wear off. He would smile at all the right times in a story, but it felt like he was faking it. We all involved him in as many activities as we could, which seemed to help, but at a certain point, I felt like we needed to help him move on… heh, that's kinda funny considering what Scott titled his story.

Zach and I tried to convince him to sell the house. Zach even offered to buy it from him, but Dad wasn't interested. We all just agreed to be there for Dad as much as possible, and reminded him he was always welcome to stay with us for a few days if he needed to get away.

– * * –

After the twins were born, Jo and I talked about whether or not we wanted to have another child. We decided to wait until the boys grew a little and make a decision then. We had actually just decided to start trying again a few weeks before Pops' cancer came back. We decided to hold off trying to get pregnant, at least until we knew how it would all play out. I don't remember having an explicit conversation with Jo about deciding to start trying, but I think it was about three months after Pops died that she told me she was pregnant. Nine months later, Trisha was born. We named her after Jo's mother, who had died about two years earlier.

The love Noah had for the Destructive Duo was nothing compared to what he felt towards Trisha. His depression after the death of his husband was understandable, but Trisha seemed to largely pull him out of it and make him realize life still moved on around him.

– * * –

Soon after Zach told me he was going to have another kid, Mel and I started to consider our options. Unlike when the dads decided to expand their family, we had the extra dimension of which of us would carry it. Ultimately, we decided to use donor sperm from a sperm bank and we had our eggs extracted, fertilized, and implanted. We actually went a step towards crazy. We had our eggs implanted in each other. So both children are biologically half-brothers, since they share the same father. I am the birth mother of Alex, but Melissa is his biological mother, and I am the biological mother of Scott, even though Mel gave birth to him. Confused? Yeah, that's what I thought. We did that on purpose. Whenever anyone tries to pull that 'who is the mother' crap on us is in for more crazy than they can handle.

I'm so glad Scott was the one who decided to wait a few more weeks before coming out. I was so far beyond done with being pregnant when Alex was born. I don't think I could have handled having to carry a baby for two more weeks and mother a newborn at the same time.

One of the things we discussed in advance was we would each get to name our biological babies. We were kinda worried that might cause some tension later on, since we were giving birth to each other's biological children. However, it worked out perfectly. When we found out Mel was carrying a boy, I declared right then and there it was going to be named Scott. Mel could name hers whatever she wanted, but I wanted one named after my father. I was surprised, and honored, when she decided to name the boy I was carrying after my other dad's middle name.

While Scott and Alex never got a nickname like the Destructive Duo had gotten, Dad doted on them like you would not believe. I loved taking the kids over to Zach's house before calling Dad and having him come over. He was like a kid in a candy shop as he struggled to decide if he wanted to spend time with his eight year old grandsons, his two year old granddaughter, his newborn grandsons, or his own children. Really, it's Sophie's Choice, I guess.

While Dad was doing so much better, he was still alone. I mean, he was young. Hell, he was right around my age now when Dad died. It had been nearly three years, and Zach and I agreed he should try to get back out there. Even if he didn't meet someone to spend the rest of his life with, at least he should have someone punch his dance card every once in a while.

Zach and I both tried to talk Dad into dating. He would never actually say he wasn't interested, but kept avoiding actually doing it. Finally, I made it happen. I told him to meet me for dinner at one of our favorite restaurants. When he showed up, I was sitting with a guy I thought he might hit it off with. As soon as I made the introductions, I was out the door. I called Dad the next morning. Apparently he had had a good time at dinner, but the other guy – his name is completely lost to the years, sorry – had not been too enamored by the fact Dad wouldn't stop talking about his kids or his dead husband.

Setting Dad up became something of a running joke. Dad would occasionally go out on dates on his own, but if I felt like he had gone too long without at least trying to get back out there, I wouldn't hesitate to set him up with someone. As far as I can remember, what Dad wrote about the dates seems to be similar to how he relayed them to me. Most of them were nice enough, but there just wasn't a spark of any sort. There were a few times he would date them casually for a few weeks or months, occasionally going to bed with them. I mean it's gross and all, what with it being not just my father having sex, but having sex with a man, but everyone has needs.

About ten years after Scott died, Dad made it perfectly clear he didn't want me setting him up with anyone for a while. He wouldn't provide too many details, but I could tell he'd finally found someone he was at least interested enough in to try. It would be a while before I finally met Kyle. And man, did Dad undersell him.

Actually, Kyle's worst trait was that he was bad in social settings. Like horribly, awkwardly bad. So it's no big surprise I didn't really think he was a great fit for Dad at first. I mean you asked him a question, like what he did for a living, and he just stared at you blankly for several seconds before answering in a voice that was barely a whisper. It was after that first night that I told Dad he was boring compared to Scott. I stand by that, even though Kyle was far from boring once he came out of his shell. To be fair, I'm pretty sure anyone would seem boring next to the over-the-top drama that was Scott.

– * * –

What really struck me as odd in Dad's brief description of Kyle was how he portrayed Kyle as having an issue with Dad's past with Pops. I never got that impression at all. Did you Shan? Good. We're on the same page with that. I know Dad made a big deal of not comparing the two, but I wonder how much of that was subconscious or if Dad just willfully denied doing it. Kyle was always asking me questions about growing up with Dad and Pops – always in that way like he wanted to learn as much as he could about the man he loved. And while it was clear Dad loved Kyle, it was just as clear that Kyle was completely crazy for Dad.

Dad moved in with Kyle, which always seemed a bit strange to me. Kyle owned a small, two bedroom house in one of the edge neighborhoods. Still technically not suburbia, but a far cry from the midtown living he was used to. In terms of space and amenities, it was a huge downgrade. I'm honestly surprised he didn't move Kyle into the house we grew up in. Maybe it was too many memories. I had been trying to get him to either downsize, or possibly even move in with us, for years. Either way, Dad never gave any signs of being less than happy with the situation.

About a year after moving in with Kyle, he asked if I could host a small family dinner. He didn't bring Kyle. After we finished eating, he showed Shannon and me both Scott's and his stories. After I finished reading them, I started thinking about writing something like this, although this is a far cry from what I originally envisioned!

– * * –

Yeah, we get it. This is a train wreck. Whatever. We can delete it in the morning, Zachy.

Once Zach and I finally finished digesting everything written, we confronted Dad and insisted he show it to Kyle. It was such a powerful display of love, to fill so many pages with the details of a long life spent together. If Kyle really was an important person in Dad's life, then he deserved the opportunity to see exactly where Dad was coming into their relationship from.

Neither of us were surprised when Kyle was supportive. I'm sure he skimmed the story more than actually reading it. No one wants to know all the intimate details of a significant other's previous life, but Kyle read it for what it was. This was Dad's baggage, and Kyle accepted it.

I think it was like five years or so after they moved in together that Kyle asked Dad to marry him. Kyle had invited Zach and me over to surprise Dad after he accepted. Except Dad didn't. We were hiding in the kitchen with our families, listening in as Dad told Kyle that he just couldn't, as much as he loved Kyle.

Dad was so damn stubborn. He loved Kyle, and wanted to grow old with the man. Except to him, marriage was more than that. He didn't want to end things with Kyle, but he didn't want to take their obviously long-term relationship to the natural final stage. I heard so many excuses from Dad when I pushed him I don't even know which ones are true and which ones are bullshit he spouted to avoid taking the leap. He told me he still loved Dad, so it wasn't fair to marry another man. He wasn't sure he loved Kyle enough to marry him. He couldn't risk opening his heart again, only to have Kyle eventually leave him or die. He was too old to consider starting over with someone new. And there were others, but those are the ones I remember right now.

But Kyle, bless his heart, still stuck around. Personally, if I proposed to the man I'd been living with for five years and was rejected, I'd be kicking the man to the curb. But not Kyle. He was convinced that if he gave Dad more time, he'd come around. Maybe it was their age. While Dad refused to actually get married, they were living together, and were generally living life as anyone else in a long term relationship would be. For all intensive purposes, they were married, except on paper.

– * * –

Wow….Shannon. How drunk are you? It's 'all intents and purposes' not 'all intensive purposes'.

– * * –

Whatever, bitch. I do what I want.

– * * –

Ok, I think you're done writing for a bit. Let me finish this up. You go sleep it off. Ignore my sister. She was adopted, after all.

Anyway, back to Kyle and Dad. So Kyle stuck around for a few more years. I think they were actually living together for right around ten years or so, when Kyle asked Dad to marry him again. Only this time, it wasn't so much a question as it was an ultimatum. Kyle basically told Dad he either had to agree to get married or to move out. That evening, I picked Dad up, and he moved in with me and Jo. As much as I defend Kyle from the way Dad treated him, that was a dick move, and I would have walked away if I was in the same situation.

I think Dad was more upset that the split upended his life than he was about breaking up with Kyle. In the next few days, we got Dad's belongings from Kyle's house, and got him sorted at my house. Dad showed me a project he had been working on. He had been going through Scott's old journals from before they met and taking notes. Dad had become obsessed with the idea of telling one more story for Scott. This one about the years he and Steve had spent together. Maybe that's why Kyle had insisted they get married. Dad was obsessing over Scott, and Kyle wanted some sort of proof that Dad loved him. I can get that.

Anyway, Dad showed me his notes, and they were largely an unorganized mess – partially because his method of taking notes was to grab a random piece of paper and a random journal and start making notes. Usually he made notes on a page that already had a few, so it made it even harder to sort out what sort of narrative Dad was going for.

Off and on, for the next few years, I would help Dad sort his notes out in a way that made sense. He finished going through Scott's journals, and started going through Steve's, which Scott had kept. That took much longer, as it was nearly impossible to make out the handwriting. As we worked, I could see why he wanted to do it. While Scott would occasionally talk about his time with Steve when a relevant story came up, it was obvious through the journals there was a lot more to the relationship and their story than even Dad knew about. There weren't any earth-shattering developments that could possibly change the way Dad loved Scott, but there was definitely a story there.

Unfortunately, Dad's ability to focus on his project was quickly diminishing with age. At least we regularly had our grandchildren around to keep him occupied. About six months ago, I went in to wake him up, and found…

Well, everyone's story eventually comes to an end.

– – – * * * – – –

Wow. Um… yeah. So Shannon and I really screwed up with how we wrote this. We started talking about writing something to follow up Dad's book about a year before he died. We both loved the idea of creating something like a living family historical document. At the time, neither of us knew what to write, so we kept putting it off.

Last night, Jo and I had Shannon and Melissa over for dinner. After dinner, Jo and Melissa started gossiping in the other room while Shannon and I were goofing around in the kitchen, continuing to get drunk. I can't remember which of us suggested we try writing it. I think it was Shannon's, but she'll definitely claim it was mine. It doesn't matter.

This morning, Shannon and I read over what we wrote. This was not how we intended to convey the remainder of Noah's life, and our first thought was to delete the whole thing and try again – sober this time. However, it has 'Hudgins Family' written all over it, with the sarcasm and (mostly) playful love we share in this family. So instead of scrapping the project, which would most likely mean it never gets finished, we are going to (very) heavily edit it – especially the part where Shannon wrote 'fuck' fifteen times in a single paragraph. To be fair, the part where I used a word starting with 'c' to describe Shannon will likewise be removed. Obviously, we'll also fix all the countless spelling errors and make it so it's at least coherently phrased.

We also talked a little about Dad's project looking into Scott and Steve's life together. Shannon and I are going to go back over Dad's notes, and probably read through the journals. If we think there's another story to tell, we will figure out the best way to piece it together. It's something of a legacy to not only Scott and his first marriage, but also the devotion Dad had to Scott that he'd continue writing about Scott's life for years after Scott died.

In the end, even in its crudeness, I think this story is a testament to the legacy of Scott and Noah Hudgins. It accurately reflects the love and playfulness of our family, even if it seems less than an honorific treatment in the cold light of day. While we may have allowed ourselves to be a bit more juvenile than would be ideal, we both agree that this is probably the best and most apt memory we can provide of the love our fathers shared.

We also want to make it clear that this is not the end of what we hope will be a long, long written narrative of the Hudgins Family. We will be showing this to all five of our children and encouraging them to each contribute their memories of our lives as we pass. In turn, they will do the same for their children. For generations to come, we can fill shelf after shelf with the Hudgins Family Saga.

-Zachariah Hudgins

-Shannon Hudgins