Winning the Lottery - 22. Chapter 22 Bad news comes in threes

Dane was afraid he’d be sent to live with another grandparent...

I held him on my knee and calmed him. Patsy laid her head on Dane’s knee and he petted her; she was his comfort blanket. I could certainly understand the source of his fears. I patiently explained about Mom and Dad living in the little house across the pool, that they were very nice people, and were part of our lives. I kept reassuring him that this was his bedroom, in his house; he wasn’t going anywhere.

“Do you understand everything I’ve told you? Do you have any questions?”

He shook his head ‘no.’

“Daddy Derrick will explain the very same thing when he gets home tomorrow. Now, would you be comfortable to meet your new gramma and grampa?”

Another ‘no.’

“Okay, we’ll wait for a bit...”

I took Dane back to the kitchen where he, Maila and I at comfort food, cookies and milk. I texted Mom and told her that they’d meet Dane again tomorrow. I suggested we meet once Dane was in bed and asleep, and I’d explain everything then. After dinner, Dane and I watched a The Jungle Book. Movie watching wasn’t an ordinary school night activity, but he needed the distraction, and it was good for both of us to sit cuddled on the couch during the movie. I was hoping that in story of Mowgli’s life Dane might see a metaphor for his own.

I got him into bed and read to him for a few minutes—a nightly ritual he’d come to love. He fell asleep quickly, and I sat there for a few minutes just watching my sleeping angel. I brushed his hair gently from his forehead and kissed him. Then I squatted and gave Patsy’s ears a rub. “Thank you, girl, for protecting your master.” She licked my hand and thumped her tail.

I met Mom and Dad at the pool gazebo. It was a balmy evening, with a gently breeze blowing off the sea. Mom brought out a pot of herbal tea for us to sip while we talked. They were almost spellbound as I told them the story of the surprise letter and our hurried trip to northern Canada to meet and adopt my distant cousin. “And so here we are....” I finished up.

Dad was the first to speak up. “Gabe, that’s amazing. Just amazing. What a wonderful thing you and Derrick have done. We couldn’t be more proud of you! Right honey?”

“Oh yes. You boys just make us so proud! And he’s just adorable. No wonder the poor little lamb was upset at the very thought of having to come and live with yet another grandmother! What can we do to help?”

“All you have to do is be your wonderful selves,” I replied. “Everything is new and strange for him. Hopefully he’ll come to trust us. What he needs most right now is stability, but life goes on...every day brings something new with it. We don’t know what we would have done if it hadn’t been for Alfy...and Patsy.”

“Yes,” Mom laughed. “That dog certainly was going to protect him. She’s not...vicious or anything, is she?”

“Oh not at all! Once she gets to know you, she’ll accept you as part of the pack. In some ways I’m glad she’s protective of Dane. It adds another level of security, doesn’t it?”

Later I was able to contact Derrick by phone and we talked for about an hour as I filled him in on the day’s events. Derrick, being the horny bugger that he is, eventually manoeuvred the conversation to more salacious territory, and it wasn’t long before we were panting, grunting, and encouraging each other. Not quite the real thing, but I appreciated the relaxation of a great orgasm after what I’d had to deal with that evening.

After we caught our breath, he said, “But really, Gabe, I’m glad they took it so well,” he said. “Thanks for handling that. You’re a champ!”

On Friday after school, Alfy and Kelly arrived with a dog in tow. A round, fluffy, black and white dog about the same size a Patsy. Alfy had been pestering Jordan and Kelly for a dog after we’d gotten Patsy, and they’d finally caved, adopting a rescue. Koa, meaning warrior in the Hawaiian language, was a young unneutered male Portuguese Water Dog. That breed had become popular in the islands after Hawaii’s favorite family, the Obama’s, had chose one as their family pet (they later acquired a second).

Kelly had texted me to warn me to keep Patsy on a leash when they arrived, but Alfy’s new pet was a complete surprise for Dane who expressed delight at seeing Koa. Patsy strained at her leash to approach Koa, wagging her tail madly, and jumping around like she wanted to play, and Koa was doing the same. After some serious circling and ass sniffing, we realized the two dogs weren’t showing aggression; they wanted to be friends. So we took a chance and released them from their leashes. They tore off around the yard running in circles, taking turns chasing each other. The boys, almost as excited as the dogs, followed suit.

Meanwhile, we’d put off taking Dane to a child psychologist. He was settling in well, and God only knows, Alfy, with his exuberance and realistic view of the world, was helping Dane settle more than any trained professional could. This was driven home one afternoon when I overheard the boys talking. They were in Dane’s room constructing a Lego ‘city,’ using their vivid imaginations, bringing fantasy to life, so to speak. The dogs were splayed out on the floor sleeping nearby their masters.

I heard Alfy say, “How come you came to live with Dr. Gabe and Derrick?”

“Um...well, my mom and dad got sent to jail.”

“Mine too! Is it ‘cuz they hit you?”

“No. Um...not really. Well sometimes... But they got sent to jail ‘cuz they were selling drugs.

“Oh... Mine got sent to jail ‘cuz they hit me. And burned me with cigarettes. See...these little dots, here and here... that’s from cigarettes.”

“Why?”

“I dunno. I heard my dad, Kelly, say they were sick fuckers. And my dad—the first one—broke my arm too. When Dr. Gabe saw me in the hospital he said he’d rather rot in hell than let me go back to my parents. So that’s when my new dads adopted me. Then my mom and dad got sent to jail. My dad, Kelly, says I’m their son now, and I get to live with them forever. I’m glad, ‘cuz they’re really nice. Do you like Dr. Gabe and Derrick?”

“Um...yeah. They’re pretty nice, and Daddy Gabe says they’ll never hit me. There’s a no hitting rule in the house, just like at school.”

“Are you going to stay here forever?”

“Um...I think so... When I met Gramma MacKenzie and Grampa Douglas I thought I had to go live with them, and I got real scared. Patsy protected me. She growled! But Daddy Gabe said I could stay with him and Daddy Derrick. Then later Gramma and Grampa were real nice to me.”

“Why were you scared of MacKenzie and Douglas? They’re real nice!”

“’Cuz after my mom and dad went to jail I had to go live with my other grandparents, and they’re real old, and I don’t think they liked me ‘cuz they always made me stay in my bedroom...” But then Daddy Derrick and Daddy Gabe came in their plane and took me away. To here. Then we got Patsy... I’m trying to be good so I can stay...”

“What do you want for Christmas?” asked Alfy in an abrupt change of subject.

“I dunno...”

“Ask for some more Legos, okay. This city needs a tower and there’s not enough Legos to build it!”

Later, when I told Derrick about my eavesdropping, we agreed that Dane had a pretty realistic take on his situation, but he still needed reassurance that his home with us was permanent—and especially that his tenure with us wasn’t conditional on his being good.

In spite of that insecurity, Dane was settling well both at home and at school. He still had problems staying on task, but his teacher assured us that it was nothing out of the ordinary for a six year old boy. There hadn’t been any new incidents of fighting, thank God. And academically, he was catching up very quickly. However, excitement was building over Kelly, Jordan and Alfy’s move into their new house. Dane was impatient to have Afly in the neighborhood and in child’s time that was taking FOREVER to happen. His moods were a little mercurial and he had an even harder time staying on task.

With Dane consuming the bulk of our time and effort, we hadn’t given much thought, other than exchanging a few texts, to other family members. The Nikolov’s didn’t have a cell phone, so I’d sent some printed pictures of Dane, but hadn’t heard anything back. So when Gerard Nikolov phoned I knew it wasn’t good news.

Without preamble he’d bellowed, “Just want to let you know that Mary died yesterday.” (He was, apparently, unaware that improvements in communications technology negated the need to yell into the telephone.)

“Oh...thanks for letting us know. Is there anything we can do?”

“Naw. There’s a service at the church day after tomorrow. Then she’s going to be buried in the Reserve cemetery.”

“Oh...well, we’ll take care of the funeral expenses, okay?...”

“That’d be appreciated... How’s the boy?”

“Dane? He’s doing really well! Settling right in. Mr. Nikolov, if you find anything in Mary’s possessions, like pictures or anything, can you send them to us?”

Now we needed to explain Mary’s death to Dane. Derrick and I decided there was no use pussy-footing around, so we sat Dane down and told him his grandmother, Mary, had died. I asked him if he knew what “died” meant.

“Like she’s gone to heaven?” he asked.

“Yes, she’s no longer in this world,” I said.

Dane nodded solemnly and simply said, “Okay.” Really, he barely knew the woman, so his response was fairly appropriate. Perhaps when he was older, he’d appreciate having known her, however briefly.

It was on the heels of that news that James telephoned to tell me our father had been diagnosed with liver cancer and wasn’t expected to live out the week. As much as I hated the miserable bastard the news hit me hard. Old wounds opened; I was gripped with such fierce rage I could hardly breathe.

I did my best to take a few deep breaths and count to ten.

“Gabe, are you there? Did you hear what I just said?”

“Yeah, James, I did. Um...are you okay? Do you need my help with anything?”

“No, there’s not much you can do. Dad’s in the hospital. It was the Orlov’s that called. Mom isn’t doing too well....”

“She’s sick?”

“Sort of. Mrs. Orlov says she’s drinking pretty heavily. Gabe, I’ve arranged to take a week of school. I’m flying over there.”

“Sure James. I...um...won’t go. But like I said, let me know if I can do anything.”

“Thanks Gabe, I’ll keep in touch.”

Two days later James called to tell me our father had passed. The news was expected, of course, but still I felt a hollowing of my stomach when James told me. Maybe in time, I’d come to forgive my father, but that was for another day.

I guess things were bad ‘back home.’ My father’s business was near bankruptcy, and their house was heavily mortgaged. James said our mother was definitely a full-blown alcoholic. “Christ, Gabe, I don’t know the first thing about cleaning up this kind of mess, and I don’t have time to do it either. I’ve got to get back to school...”

“James, take Mom over to a lawyer. I’ll wire a retainer to whomever you find. Let them handle all the estate and financial stuff, not that it sounds like there’s really much to deal with. I’ll pay off whatever debts are left. What about Mom? What the hell are we going to do with her? Christ, she’s only what, about sixty years old? I guess we’ll have to give her something to live on, but I want nothing to do with her!”

“Yeah, Gabe, I hear you. I don’t know what to do either. I don’t want her living with us, that’s for sure... I’ll talk to Monique. Right now I’m just too...upset...to think clearly.”

It was Mrs. Stracht, Monique’s mother, who suggested we send Mom—if she was amenable to the idea—to a rehab clinic in Switzerland. There was a clinic in Zurich that was very well-known for getting good results. Mom agreed to go, admitting that she did have a drinking problem, an important first step in recovery.

There was no memorial service for our father. He was cremated and his ashes were left at the crematorium until Mom decided what to do with them.

Unfortunately, my father’s death triggered some bad memories and anger, and I began to have my ‘dreams’ again. I started waking up convinced I’d ‘faked’ medical school, and I needed to make amends to the Deacons. Knowing that it was a classic PTSD response to anxiety didn’t help ease the black mood I carried. I was well aware that I needed to “forgive” my father and “move on.” I struggled with the subject, but couldn’t get beyond the rage I felt at having been treated so unfairly. I kept asking myselft: How can any parent reject their child like that? How can they just be so damned mean?

Derrick, of course, knew I was waking up with nightmares and, in his kind, non-judgemental way, urged me to seek counselling. I decided I’d talk it over with Dad Douglas first. Both he and Mom seemed so serene and so ‘at peace’ with the world. I wondered if I might borrow a little of that calm acceptance. Maybe Dad would impart some of their wisdom to me....

“Well,” he began. “When we ‘hang on’ to our anger it’s really us who suffer, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I really get that. But how do we ‘let go?’” I asked.

He smiled. “Sometimes that takes years of mediation.... But there’s a book that, I think, puts it in a nutshell—that is, if you don’t mind looking at the Buddhist perspective. You know that MacKenzie and I would never try to convert you or anything? It’s just that this book, Alone with Others, by Stephen Batchelor, addresses this whole issue—from a modern perspective.

That was so like Dad, I mused, to give me the tools.... I began to read the book, and from the first page I was hooked. It was as if the author was speaking directly to me. In the end, I came to sort of understand my own place in the world. I concluded that ‘clinging’ to anger was simply irrelevant. Not that I exactly forgive my father (or mother), but the hate drained out of me. I began to sleep without nightmares.

Much to Dane’s (and our) relief, Alfy FINALLY moved into the neighborhood. The Ka’enas and Applebaums were out in full force helping with the move, which only took the morning. The rest of that day was a big ‘party’ with tables laden with delicious potluck dishes. At dusk the tiki torches were lit and ukuleles were strummed, and traditional songs and hulas were performed. The excited kids finally wound down. Jordan and Kelly invited Dane and Patsy for a sleepover. It was nice to have the house to ourselves, but it seemed eerily quiet without Dane and Patsy; we missed them.

The boys (and dogs) wanted to be together 24/7 so we had to draw up a reasonable ‘together’ schedule, which, for the most part, the kids respected—but not without a fair bit of trying to push the boundaries.

Bad news comes in threes, and that next week, we received news of a third death. Corporal Eagle phoned to tell us that Dane’s birth mother had died of a fentanyl overdose in prison. Fentanyl is a deadly street drug. It caused over 60,000 overdose deaths the previous year in the USA. Honolulu County alone had in the neighborhood of 200. So it wasn’t a huge surprise to hear that, even in prison, an addict had succumbed to its deadly effects.

Derrick and I sat down with Dane and gave him the news.

“She’s no longer in this world?” he confirmed, remembering what we’d told him earlier about Mary’s death.

“Yes, that’s correct,” I answered.

“Good!”

“Good?” Derrick asked.

“Yes. Now she can’t come and get me!”

“Ah,” I said. “You were worried about that?”

Dane shrugged.

“Dane,” began Derrick in a gentle tone, “Gabe and I are your parents now. Nobody can come and take you away. Nobody. A judge in a courtroom said so...because we asked him to. Gabe and I love you very much, and we want nothing more than for you to be our forever son. Do you want to be our forever son?”

Dane’s eyes were leaking tears as he nodded ‘yes.’

“Okay,” said Derrick. “Let’s swear an oath and shake on it. Dane, I want you to stay with us and be our forever son.”

“Dane,” I echoed, “I want you to stay with us and be our forever son.”

“Now it’s your turn,” prompted Derrick.

“I...uh...want to...um...stay...um...forever.”

“Excellent!” exclaimed Derrick. “Patsy, do you agree.”

“Woof.”

“See, Patsy agrees too,” said Derrick. “Now let’s shake hands and seal the deal.”

We all solemnly shook hands. Then Derrick picked up Dane and hugged him tight. I joined in and we squished Dane between us. Patsy barked joyfully.

Not long after that, I was picking up Dane from school when an attractive woman approached me and said, “Mr. Nikolov?”

I didn’t bother to correct her. “Yes?”

“I’m Catherine Kuana, Tyler’s mom.”

“Right! Nice to meet you. Please call me Gabe. We’ve heard a lot about Tyler. After that initial dust up the boys have become good friends.”

She chuckled. “So it would seem. Tyler’s been after us to invite Dane for a play date. Do you think that would be okay some weekend?”

“Um...maybe...sure. I’ll talk to my husband about it and get back to you.” Catherine and I exchanged phone numbers.

Catherine Kuana didn’t know it, but she’d just given me a precious gift. By approaching me guilelessly, simply as parent to parent, she had just validated me as a father—an ordinary, everyday, garden variety father. And damned if that didn’t’ feel really good!