Autumn - 6. For You

“Why? What did I do?”

“Nothing bad, CJ. Trust me, it’s all good. Tom’s kinda emotional right now, mates. Just wanted to warn you. He had a friendly e-mail from his ex-wife. She mentioned Tom’s parents returned to Boston early this morning, and quickly organized a family meeting. They complained about not being allowed to visit their son, who they thought was dying, by some snot-nosed little fag. She said if a teenager was able to stand up to Frank Kennedy, maybe it was time she and her sons did the same. She asked Tom to e-mail her when he was up to talking on the phone. He did so immediately. He’s waiting for a call from her, countin’ on a miracle.”

“STOP TALKING ABOUT ME, I CAN HEAR YOU…” Tom Kennedy’s booming voice startled CJ, his dads, and JP.

“Bloody hell, I thought he’d dozed off. Come on, guys, let’s get in there and talk about him in front of him.” JP led them inside the room with a big smile on his face; his husband screaming at them was a good sign. The cop must be feeling better.

“Hi, Uncle Tom. You doing okay?”

The detective spread his arms out, motioning for CJ to come to him. “I will be as soon as you get your skinny ass over here and give me a hug.”

“Skinny ass? Hell if that boy’s skinny. You should see how much our grocery bill has risen since―ouch! What you spank my butt for?” Brett asked, surprised by his husband’s move.

“Stop bitching about the food bill, Jarhead.” César’s reply was accompanied by another slap to the marine’s ass. “You eat just as much as the kid does.”

“If the two of you can’t afford to feed him, send him over to us. JP and I would be happy to have him.”

“Hello… can we stop talking about me as if I wasn’t here? Why do y’all keep doing this with me?”

“Listen, CJ. I wanted to tell you if you’re a snot-nosed little fag, like my father called you, I sincerely hope my kids turn out to be the same. I am so proud of you, I don’t really have the words to express it.” There was a tenderness in the detective’s voice that spoke of a deep affection for the boy; moistness was noticeable in his eyes. “I’ve seen you deal with rejection by part of your family, and bounce back stronger and more determined to be your own man. You’ve adapted to a new environment, and become an integral part of a group of older men who all respect you.”

CJ fidgeted, he seemed unable to focus his gaze on anyone or anything. His fathers sat smiling, nodding their heads in assent. Clearly, they were glad someone other than them was acknowledging the type of man their son was turning out to be.

“You came to the aid of a stranger, a young man being picked on. You tried to reason with the bully and ended up having to defend yourself when he attacked you. In the process of trashing that asshole, you showed everyone being gay doesn’t give anyone the right to walk all over us. That many of us are able and willing to defend ourselves. You’ve impressed politicians, military officers, and world-famous athletes. I heard how you stood up for me last night.”

“But I did nothing, Uncle Tom.” The boy was blushing, gazing at his hand being held by the detective, still avoiding looking at anyone.

“Bullshit! I was told in great detail how you stood up for me in a respectful way until once again you were threatened. And then, without violence, you beat down a self-righteous Catholic priest. And if that wasn’t enough, you put a couple of old, bigoted idiots, who don’t know the first thing about love or respect for others, in their place.” The injured man held CJ’s hand in his own a little tighter; the gentle squeezing motions visible to all in the room. “You did the right thing not allowing my parents near me. Them leaving after finding out I wasn’t going to die, is proof they had no real concern for me. I am so glad you’ve come into our lives. I look forward to having you as my friend for many years to come. I love you, son.”

“You did good, CJ. Dontcha worry, Bubba, I ain’t going to embarrass your ass again. But sheeet, I ain’t never seen Tommy John get so fucking emotional. When I walked back in the room it was like… I don’t know what the hell it was! ”

After a light breakfast at home, and a short two-mile jog with his dads, CJ sat next to Dr. Matt Calhoun at Farmers Fisher Bakers, on the Georgetown Waterfront. The teen and his two dads, having no plans for the day other than visiting their friends at the hospital, had called Doc and asked him to join them for brunch. They’d walked to the restaurant, stopping by Doc’s place on the way, to pick him up.

“Thanks, Uncle Matt, but can we please talk about something else?”

The late summer day didn’t carry with it the oppressive heat and humidity which had plagued the previous three months. Walking around didn’t leave one sweaty and sticky. Autumn was on the way and CJ looked forward to seeing the leaves change color. It would be the first time experiencing a real change in seasons since he had returned to the United States from Germany.

“I have an idea for a different conversation topic.” Brett nudged CJ in the ribs, getting his son’s attention. “Let’s tell Doc about our lunchtime chat yesterday. You know, about you getting a tattoo, and about being distracted by your spotter at the gym.”

The four men sat outdoors, enjoying the weather, with a great view of the Potomac flowing on the other side of the concrete dock. They had all dressed alike: deck shoes or sneakers, shorts, polo shirts for the adults, and a t-shirt for CJ. This one was dark teal, with carhartt written across the chest in white, followed by the company logo in light orange.

“Shut up, Papa. Don’t you dare!”

“I swear, Doc, I think my fifteen-year-old son is more mature than my husband the Marine Corps Captain!” César shook his head; a look of resigned suffering accompanied the gesture.

“I’ll let that one pass, for now. But I want details later on. How’s this for a different conversation? Hell if I ain’t had a call from Cristina Pereira last night.”

“Chip’s daughter? You shitting me!” Brett had been fooling around with CJ, poking each other, giggling, acting as if they were little kids. At Doc’s comment, his head snapped up, surprise on his face.

“I sure as hell ain’t, Jarhead.”

It was César, not CJ this time, who brought the conversation around to the meal. “You guys wanna get some food before we hear about the call? And I’m ready for an adult beverage.”

“Yeah, Dad, let’s go get food. I’m starving.” From having previously eaten at the restaurant, CJ knew their brunch layout was great―one of the best he’d experienced in DC. Reading up on the place, he’d learned it was owned by the North Dakota Farmers Union. It used lots of fresh seasonal ingredients, and the sustainability practices had earned it certification as a green restaurant. Plus, he thought it looked cool.

Doc and César loaded their plates with grilled vegetables, scrambled egg whites, and yogurt topped with granola. Brett went for the pork tacos, the guacamole, and the sushi being passed around by servers. CJ piled up two plates: breakfast jambalaya, ham, bacon, french toast, cheesy grits, and before he was done eating, he’d also accepted Eggs Benedict from the traveling trays.

“So, the girl tells me Chip called her and her brother this last Friday, and asked them to join him for lunch on Saturday. Neither was aware of the break-up or that their father had accepted a transfer to a PNC branch in Tampa.”

“WHAT? He left Washington without saying a word to anyone?” César asked, staring at Doc. CJ and Brett were both too busy eating.

“Y’all ain’t even heard the best part yet. While eating, his son asked why we’d broken up, and Chip admitted to cheating on me. Seems Chipper didn’t cozy up to that very well. According to his sister: he stood up, loudly told his dad he was an asshole, walked to the curb, and jumped in a cab headed home. What’s up with all these teenagers being so self-righteous? Here I thought they had no maturity, their brains having been fried extra crispy by silly reality TV shows and video games.”

“Hey, watch it, Uncle Matt. How old is this Chipper guy anyway?” CJ had to swallow a large piece of his french toast, washing it down with a sip from his glass of milk, before being able to speak.

“Same as you, Bubba. And I was just messing with you ‘bout the fried brains. Cristina is a bit older. She’s eighteen and about to start her freshman year at NYU. She asked me to let her know next time I went up to the city. Said both she and her brother wanted to see me and spend some time with me.”

“Damn, Doc, I don’t know what to say. Maybe the kids turned out okay despite defective genetic material passed at conception.” César looked at CJ and winked before finishing his comment. “It happens, you know? Look at CJ, he takes after my side of the family. Sounds as if they want to maintain some sort of relationship with you.”

“Wait a minute here, Dad. Did you just brag about yourself? And did you just call Chip a… a jerk? Using all kinds of fancy words? You can’t talk in code around me anymore, old man.” CJ decided to say jerk instead of asshole. There was a young girl at the table next to theirs, paying close attention to everything he did and said. “Also, didn’t Uncle Tommy tell me he had a son my age? And now I find out Chip does too? Damn, I’d love to meet those two guys. Just imagine how much fun y’all would have with the three of us around you all the time!”

“May the force be with us. Unfortunately, none of us have ever met Potus’ kids―they live in Boston. There may be a better chance to meet Chipper. It sounds like he likes Doc here better than he does his own father.” Brett pushed his plate slightly away, folded his napkin, and placed it on the table. Leaning back in his chair, contentment was written on his face.

“Guys, let’s plan a trip up soon.” César was aware CJ had not traveled much outside Florida; he was interested in showing his son other parts of the country. “The four of us can head up for a weekend, I know there’s plenty of room at the apartment. We can catch a show, do a little shopping, and maybe sightsee some too. That was good food. I don’t know where you put it all, Brett. CJ we already know has a hollow leg.”

“What have I told you about your lame jokes, Dad? Anyway, I’ve never been to New York. I’d love to go. And I’ve never seen this apartment you guys have been talking about all summer long.” CJ was excited about the possibility of traveling up to the big city. “Columbus Day weekend I’ll be in Chicago visiting the family, so we can’t go then. And Thanksgiving we’ll be in Miami. How about Veterans Day? Christmas? Maybe January? I haven't seen snow in a while either.”

“That could be a fun time, let’s talk about it later. And I’d love to see Sean again if it’s ok with you, Doc. I ended up liking the man.”

“That’d be fine with me, Emperor. He and I still need to talk, I may head up on my own for a couple of days in the next few weeks.” Feeling lazy after their meal, the guys hailed a taxi for the ride over to George Washington University Hospital.

They popped into the Tomassi room, surprising Adriano and the twins. The kids immediately swarmed over CJ, insisting on showing him their drawings. Doc checked Adrian’s monitor readouts, did a quick exam, and promised he’d be going home the next day.

The twins had returned to their house with their grandparents the previous evening. They were back at the hospital soon after finishing breakfast; they wanted to be with their dad. The death of their mother had not yet entirely registered in their young minds.

Adriano explained to them that God wanted their mommy to do some special work, so she’d gone up to heaven to help him. Part of her new job would be to watch over the three of them since she would no longer be living at their house. Quiet sobs were soon followed by desolate crying, with plenty of tears also being shed by the father. The children repeated over and over they didn’t want their mommy to go away. After tiring themselves out, they dozed off in their father’s bed. Adriano prayed the explanation would hold for a bit. He knew it wouldn’t be long before they had to discuss their mother’s absence again.

“Hey, Mom, would you and Dad please take the twins for a little walk? I’d like ten minutes alone with these guys.”

“Come on, kids, let’s go check out the rest of the floor while our dads have a grown-up talk.” CJ picked up Emmanuel, ready to step outside with the little ones.

“Please stay, CJ. You should be part of this conversation. You kids be good for Nana and Popo, okay?”

“’Kay, Daddy.” Both said, each holding a grandparent's hand.

“Guys, Danno came by last night, and we spent some time discussing my future. I know my parents will try to convince me otherwise, but I’d like to stay in DC, if possible. I’ll continue to receive my salary for the next thirty days. Short-term disability insurance will kick in and take care of most of our needs. I have plenty of savings to cover any shortage, so we’ll be fine.”

“Sounds like you’ll be okay, Adriano.”

“I think so, Brett. There’ll eventually be auto and life insurance payouts from the accidents, which should provide a good amount of money, most of which I plan to put aside for the kids’ future. When King was here yesterday, he told me the trucking company will most likely jump through hoops to keep me from suing. Their insurance company will probably offer me some sort of settlement since their driver was clearly at fault. I asked him to represent me when that comes up. I don’t wanna deal with those people.”

“That’s a smart move on your part. I’ve had clients in situations similar to yours, the other side often tries to get you to sign off on something right away, while your mind is on other things. King can be your attorney and handle the legal side. I’d be happy to serve as your accountant. If you need any financial advice you let me know.”

“I’ll definitely need help handling the money; you’ll be hearing from me. Financially, we’ll be comfortable, if not better off than before. But the money won’t make the pain go away. I’m bottling up a lot of emotions right now because of the kids. I know I’ll have to deal with the loss, sooner or later, but it’ll have to wait. The twins are my priority now more than ever.”

“You have family and a group of friends who’ll stand by you, and offer a hand whenever you need help. All you have to do is ask. Brett, CJ, and I will be expecting you to do so.”

“That’s true, with people like you and Brett around, I think I can get through this. I want to express my gratitude to the three of you for your generous offer. The boss passed along your message. I’m not really sure I know how to thank you.”

“You just did, wouldn’t you say so, Jarhead?”

“Yup. Just remember: we have the resources, we consider you family, if anything comes up, even if it’s temporarily, you give us a call.”

“Good afternoon, Detective. How are you feeling today?” The cheerful greeting was uttered by Doc as he strolled into Tom Kennedy’s hospital room, closely followed by César, Brett, and CJ.

“And a good afternoon to you too, Dr. Calhoun. What’s up with the formality, Doc? New bedside manner? You gonna start being nice to your patients now? Hey, guys.” A light and airy tone with an undercurrent of happiness in the cop’s voice, was quite a change from the sluggish, sometimes slurred speech heard the previous day.

“Fuck you, copper. My bedside manner’s just fine. How the heck are you, Bubba?” Doc pulled a pair of glasses from the pocket of his white lab coat and looked at the clear bag hanging by his friend’s bedside, connected to his arm by a thin plastic tube.

“Feeling great, Doc. Fit as a fiddle. That’s for a man with a giant bruise on the chest, and a plugged hole in the leg.”

“Any headaches, or pain?”

“Nope, neither. But from what I understand that bag you were just looking at has been carrying some happy juice.”

“Yeah, that it has. But each time the bag has been changed, the amount of painkillers has been reduced. Right now it’s just enough to take the edge off, and it’ll be completely gone by tonight. If you’re pain-free in the morning, and you remain that way for twenty-four hours, you get to go home on Tuesday, Wednesday at the latest. There’s no sign of infection in the area of the wound, that’s always a concern after surgery. But you have to be honest, Bubba. If you get even the slightest headache you have to let the nurse know.”

“Sir, yes sir. I promise.”

“Good, then I’ll leave these three ruffians here and go check up on a couple more patients. Guys, y’all have a nice visit, I’ll come back when I get done. Thanks for a great meal!”

“We’ll make sure he stays out of trouble, Doc!”

“Yeah right, Jarhead.”

“Damn, it’s good to see you guys and not be all drugged up. Park your asses down, we’ve got lots to tell. Wanna start it off, JP?” The detective’s husband had reclaimed his spot on the bed’s edge he had vacated when the visitors arrived.

“What’s up, Uncle JP?” CJ sat at the foot of the cop’s bed while his dads took the two chairs in the room.

“Did you guys watch the news on TV this morning?” JP absently ran his hand around the spot where the bullet had entered his mate’s thigh as he spoke.

“Nah. We went for a run first thing, then the rents and I met Uncle Matt for brunch, before coming to the hospital.”

“The ABC station came on earlier with one of those breaking news crawlers under the image. It kept repeating ‘Suspected shooter of Detective Thomas Kennedy has been found dead’.” That made all three visitors sit up and pay attention. “They eventually broke in with a live report. When the news anchor was shown on the screen, there was a picture behind him of a good-looking, African-American guy with a tattoo of a tear drop below his left eye.”

“What’s the tattoo mean? asked CJ.

“Tom told me it’s a well-known gang symbol, mate. Most of the time it means the person with it has killed someone.”

“Shit! What else did they say?”

“According to the reporter, the description given by eyewitnesses to the shooting matched the man found. He said at the time they only had a gang-related name for the guy, Indio. The teardrop tattoo reinforced the likelihood of gang affiliation.” JP lowered his voice slightly as if sharing a secret. “The man was found a few blocks away from where Tom was gunned down, behind a dumpster. He’d been shot several times in the chest.”

“Any ideas on who shot him?” Typical of a fifteen-year-old boy, once he’d known his uncle would be okay, CJ’s fascination with guns, shootings, cops, and criminals bubbled to the surface.

“Nothing so far. We know a few reporters have called the hospital trying to speak with Tom. All have been told he’s unavailable. Some asked to speak with the officer’s husband. They were told I wasn’t available either.”

“So that’s the first piece of good news we have. The motherfucker who shot me is gone. No need for drawn-out court shenanigans and lots of taxpayer money wasted. My thanks to whoever took him out.”

“Probably one of your brothers-in-blue, Uncle Tommy.”

“Hush, CJ. No need to start any rumors. And you need to stop watching so much Law and Order on TV. Here’s the next piece of good news: my ex-wife called after you guys left yesterday. We had a very long and pleasant chat.” The man’s facial expression changed along with the topic of conversation; it appeared softer, more relaxed as he left behind the subject of his shooter.

“Damn good news, Potus. This could be the opening you’ve always hoped for.”

“That it is, César. My kids weren’t at the family meeting my father called when he returned to Boston. They’d left early on Friday to spend the weekend at the Vineyard with friends. So they weren’t exposed to the vitriol my dad―and most likely my brothers―spouted, about the events down here. The ex promised to give them as honest a recounting as possible, mentioning what happened to me, what my parents and the priest wanted to do, and how CJ stopped them. She said it would be up to them, but if they wanted to call me when they returned to the city, she wouldn’t object.” Tom finished as tears started dripping down his face, he quickly dissolved into sobs. JP handed his husband the small box of tissues supplied by the hospital, while the three visitors remained silent.

“That… is… sick!” CJ had to break the emotionally charged moment. He wasn’t one to deal well with extended melodrama. “We were just talking about this at lunch when Uncle Matt told us Chip’s daughter had called him and he mentioned there’s also a son. Turns out that kid, your son, and I are the same age. Wouldn’t it be great if we all got to hang out together? That would be freaking insane!”

“Bite your tongue, CJ. I just turned thirty, I’m too young to start getting gray hairs.” Brett ran his hand over the short blond stubble on his head. Freshly cut into his usual high-and-tight, noticing any gray there would have been next to impossible.

“So far all I’ve heard is good stuff, Potus.” César and the cop had been friends for a long time, he was happy the man was getting some good breaks. “You’ll be going home soon, the asswipe who shot you is out of the picture, and the wall your father erected between you and your sons has a crack in it.”

“Yeah, and that crack’s there thanks to your son. Listen, guys, JP and I have a proposal for the three of you. Wanna tell them, honey?”

“What’s up?” Brett asked with curiosity in his voice.

“Mates, like most cop’s spouses, I always carry the fear something bad will happen when Tommy leaves home in the morning. This weekend it happened, and we got lucky it wasn’t worse. Once his thinking got clearer yesterday, we started talking about trying not to put things off in the future, ‘cause we never know what may happen when he straps that gun on every day.”

“Hey, I could just as well get hit by a bus on my way to school.” CJ chimed in.

“That’s true, mate. The shooting just made us more aware we shouldn’t put things off unless there’s a good reason. Like there’s no good reason we shouldn’t spend Christmas in Australia. Tommy’s never been to Oz, he met mum and dad once when they came to visit, and he met Spencer this summer. The rest of my family, and it’s a big one, have never seen his ugly mug in person.”

“Watch it, buster!”

“So… we’re going to spend two weeks in New South Wales at the end of the year. We’d like to have the three of you come with us. You guys are as much a part of our family as any of the people down there.”

“YES! Fucking A. That sounds awesome. I wanna go surfing when we’re down there. Can we go to Manly Beach? The place has to be full of hot guys.” The exuberance of youth made them all chuckle. CJ had clearly shown where his interest lay: sports and men.

“Down, surfer boy. Don’t you think Papa and I have a say in this matter?”

“But, Daaad…”

“But dad nothing. You think you can take the time off, Jarhead?

“I’m sure the Colonel will give me leave whenever I ask for it. What about you?”

“Even though it’s a busy time for me, it shouldn’t be a problem. I haven't taken much time off all year and my billable hours are very high.”

“Great! Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s start planning! It’ll be sooo cool to spend New Year’s Eve in Australia.” The fifteen-year-old teenager made an appearance once again. The rapid-fire comments conveyed the excitement he felt. “Oh shit, I need a passport, don’t I? I wonder if mine’s still good.”

“Get me some valid passports, I’ll take care of the visas once I go back to the embassy next week. Find out if you guys can take the time off and we’ll figure out the exact days after you do.” Rising from his spot on the bed, JP ran a hand over Tom’s head, smoothing out his husband’s short hair. “I’m starving, mates. Anyone want something from the cafeteria? I’m going to get me a sandwich.”

“Take Brett and César with you, honey. I want to chat with CJ for a few minutes in private. Oh, and bring me a couple of donuts and a cup of coffee, please?

“Fucking stereotypes always have some truth to them.” Brett’s quip made them all smile.

“Shut up, Jarhead. Anything for you, CJ?

“Just a bottle of water?”

“Be back in a bit if we can keep my husband―the big, bad marine―out of trouble.”

“Asshole!” replied Brett to César. “Matilda, let’s waltz out of here.” JP rolled his eyes at Brett’s reference to the well-known Aussie tune.

“Have I told you how much I love your dads, CJ?” Detective Kennedy asked the question as he patted the spot on the side of the bed his husband had been sitting on, inviting CJ to move there. “After your confrontation with my parents, I felt you needed to hear more about my background so you could completely understand why I’m estranged from them.”

“You know I was born in Boston, dad was a cop and very strict with all us children. Mom took care of the house and her men, cooked, and helped keep us on top of our schoolwork. Any free time she had, she spent in church. In high school, I was an average student but I was a great football player; even made All-State my senior year. Even back then, I was more interested in my teammates than in the cheerleaders, but I knew I had to keep those feelings to myself. I dated some but never for long.”

“I think things have changed a lot since then, Uncle Tommy. Today you could probably do whatever you wanted. Especially if you were so big other guys couldn’t pick on you.”

“Maybe so, but I’d still have to deal with the family. And being big didn’t guarantee I’d be safe if a group of guys got together and tried to hurt me. You better remember that part.”

“I know, just had that conversation again with the ‘rents this weekend.”

“Anyway, I graduated with no idea of what I wanted to do, so I enlisted in the Army. Four years surrounded by men, in an environment with testosterone constantly in the air, wasn’t a picnic. I kept to myself, did my job, and survived. Returning to Boston, I started seeing a girl I’d dated before leaving. I was picking up odd jobs here and there, but still had no idea what I wanted to do. Two years later I got married and right afterward entered the Police Academy. Ten months later, Bradley was born. He’s the same age as you. He’ll turn sixteen next month. Paddy came along when his brother was a two-year-old toddler.”

“I hope I get to meet them sometime…”

“I hope so too, CJ. Anyway, I was still fighting my attraction to men. The following years saw me slip into depression. I could no longer—” The ringing telephone interrupted Tom Kennedy mid-sentence.

“I got it, Uncle Tommy.” CJ picked up the phone so the injured cop wouldn’t have to stretch for it.

“Hello? Detective Kennedy’s room.” CJ scrunched up his face as he listened to the caller.

“This is CJ, I’m the detective’s nephew. Who’s calling?” The boy’s face lit up in surprise hearing the response to his question.

“No shit? Dude! He’s really gonna flip! Hang on.” CJ held the handset out to the injured cop, “Uncle Tom, it’s your son Bradley… for you.”