Doctor Carlo and Brandon - 5. All Things Funereal, Adjustments, and Going Back Home

Brandon left for the funeral home after an early lunch with us. The next day was Thanksgiving. I couldn’t see much other than the remaining family to be thankful for. The weather was extremely nice for late November, so I took the kids for a walk on the beach. While walking along the water, we talked about what to do for dinner tomorrow. I knew I wasn't up to cooking a big meal, if Brandon's Dad even had the food at home. I sent Brand a text to see if anybody came down with Mason. He said yes, his wife and two kids accompanied him today and were in another nearby hotel. I already knew Carson's group would be three. I called around after some Internet searches and found a place about 20 minutes from their condo that could accommodate the twelve of us.

Another round of text swaps, and everybody was informed that we'd be having our Thanksgiving dinner at three PM, at Cracker Barrel. Brandon and I had done Thanksgiving there once before—they did a very good job—so I figured, it would be safe. They make a pretty big deal about Thanksgiving, and the restaurant was huge, one reason why it was one of the few places that could accommodate us at the last minute. And if someone didn't want turkey, there were plenty of other choices. Shortly afterward, Brandon invited us all back to his dad’s place. Yeah, I'd been there a couple times before, but not recent enough to know where I was going. I asked for the address, so I wouldn't get lost.

So much for that idea. After taking a fifteen-minute tour of Hialeah, I had to ask for the name of the condo complex. Who would have thought Red Road and West Fourth Avenue were the same? Mr. G. had moved to a smaller office of the law firm, still in charge of the office, but Madison, Mrs. G., wanted to be further south after the kids all moved out, so Hialeah it was.

When we finally made it to the condo, we expressed our sympathies to Dad G., Mason, and Carson. I'm pretty sure I haven't seen Brandon's older brother Mason since our wedding. I had been civil then, and tried to be now, but I hadn't liked him since he cut my best friend Karl's arm back in high school. No, it was the first time I ever met him; when he told me to stay away from Brandon. Needless to say, I didn't listen. No need to rehash ancient history. Like I said, I tried to be civil to Mason. He did change after he spent a year in juvie. He accepted Brandon and me as boyfriends, now husbands, and even became an LGBTQIA advocate.

"You don't know my wife, Carlo. Carlo, this is Murenda."

"Nice to meet you, Miranda."

She gently corrected my pronunciation, "It's spelled differently than you're probably used to. It's MURR-en-da, with a u and an e."

"That's cool. I like oddly spelled names."

Mason picked the intros back up, "And these two guys are Derek and Erik. They're seven."

"Seven? Wow, they're as tall as Billy, and he's ten. They definitely take after their dad. Hi guys."

In concert, "Hi, Uncle Carlo."

I hadn't thought about that before, I am an uncle. They're identical twins, so I went ahead and asked the obvious question, "Jeez, how do you tell them apart?"

Mason decided to be a wise ass, "One's name is Derek, and the other's is Erik. That's easy enough."

"No, I mean, is there any… Oh, dang it. I would have never expected you to goof on me like that, Mason. That was good."

"Heh. I was hoping you'd be okay with that. But until Derek cut his palm falling on a broken bottle, we did have that problem."

Mason had indeed changed.

Derek held up his left hand, I remarked, "Yeah, that's quite a scar."

"The glass went in deep, Uncle Carlo. It hurt a lot."

"I can imagine. Okay, these are Billy and Carla. Billy's ten, and Carla's eleven."

Erik picked up the joking around, "Jeez, how do you tell them apart?"

Chuckling, I said, "Carla's a little taller. But, yeah, we get that question a lot."

All of us got a little chuckle from that exchange. Billy and Carla couldn't be any more different from each other than they are. Boy and girl. Black and white. Shorter, more muscular and taller and thin.

Carson introduced himself to our kids, then his wife.

"It is very good to see you again, Carlo. This is Catherine, and this small human being is Jason."

"Nice to meet you both. Jay is cute. Is he a child prodigy too?"

Carson was a genius. He skipped two years before high school, went on to college and graduated with his undergrad degree in three years. A master's followed and he's closing in on getting his PhD. He's a professor of Neuroscience at Harvard. All that being four years younger than Brandon and me. I had to remind myself, he was only 27 years old, and who knows what he was still to accomplish while he was still young?

"It is Jason, please. It is somewhat premature to call him a prodigy, but he is quite a bit ahead of the curve."

I had forgotten, Carson didn't like shortened names. The first time I called Brandon, Brand, in his presence, he cringed.

"Carson is being modest. At three, Jason already reads at a second-grade level. His skills in mathematics are even more advanced. I believe that Jason, once he matures, will be tested with a higher I.Q. than either Carson or me."

Apparently, Catherine was the driver of his mathematics excellence. She was a professor of Applied Mathematics, also at Harvard.

The adults and Jason sat down together in the living room and the other kids headed to the guest room. Mason lived further up the coast, in Jupiter. He and his family visited once every couple of months, so Mr. G. kept some toys there.

"It's nice of you to keep some toys here, Mr. G. Sorry, I forgot. Jason."

"Yes, we see them every two months or so. No reason to have them bored for a four-to-six-hour or weekend visit."

"Good thinking."

We chatted for a little while before the inevitable happened. Billy must have been voted spokesperson.

"We're hungry, when is dinner?"

Jason postulated, "Whenever we decide where we're going, I guess."

The discussion turned to food. Olive Garden was suggested, and close, but I felt a slightly better quality would be nicer. There was a Carrabba's not too far away. They all agreed, and we headed to Carrabba's. Everybody had a good time and enjoyed the food and company. The younger Jason behaved much better than I would have expected of a three-year-old. What more could we have asked for?

Things were quiet for the next two days. Breakfasts at the Hotels, fast food lunches, and Thanksgiving dinner out on Thursday. We sneaked Jason Senior in to have breakfast with us on Thursday, and he got a free breakfast with Carson on Friday.

Friday afternoon was the sad point of the trip: the service. There were folks from Jason's office, and Madison‘s clubs and volunteer activities that she had been a part of, and a few friends from the condo complex. Madison's brother and sister came as well. They both lived in northern Florida, like us. The main difference being, they were in the panhandle.

Jason provided a bunch of family photos, which were attached to easels next to the Urn. The urn Jason wanted was immediately available, so everything could be done sooner rather than later. Although it was obviously sad, it wasn't as bad as a full-blown funeral. With five pre-teen children, not having their grandmother lying in a casket at the front of the room was a good decision. After the service, Brandon took some time, going closer to said pictures then, after a while, I joined him and Brandon told me about one memory with his mother, captured by the photo, he's pointing at. We both cried over the memory.

We headed out to a restaurant for the post-funeral gathering. Everybody except a few friends and neighbors joined the family. A few hours later, that chapter closed, the family went back to Jason's.

The day finally caught up with Jason and he broke down crying. He'd been extremely stoic the entire time I'd been with him, but apparently, when all the activities were over, the fact that he'd be alone hit him. Hard. After much consolation, Brandon convinced his father to join us at the hotel for the night. Since we didn't use the second bed in our room after the first night, the kids each used a bed in the adjoining room, Jason would sleep in the second bed in our room. The kids went to the other room, and we closed the door, telling them we'd be talking for a while, but would open it up after we were done. They had instructions to knock if they needed something sooner.

Jason took a deep breath, "I don't know what I'm going to do. After almost thirty-five years of marriage, we were never apart except for a few short business trips. And I knew she'd be there when I got home from those. Now…"

Apparently, Brandon had already given this some thought, "You can always move back to the Jacksonville area; go back to your old job."

"I don't know how to say this without sounding like I'm playing favorites. I like seeing Mason and his kids a few times a year. I know you live further away and it's not as easy for you to get down here. But I would miss that even more now."

"No favoritism considered. There isn't an office you could work at somewhere in the middle, is there?"

"No, but I'm not sure, I even want to work anymore. I'm sixty-two now. I could collect a few thousand dollars a month from Uncle Sam to sit on my ass and relax. Between your mother's life insurance, our savings and investments, that would be sufficient for me to live on for twenty years or more if I'm reasonably frugal. Add around four thousand a month from the government, as long as it lasts, and twenty-five years would be easy to do."

I joined the fray, "So, then maybe you can retire about halfway between us and Mason. It wouldn't be too far for any of us to visit."

"That's definitely something to think about. I guess, I could make a go of it alone until I found something and moved."

I kept at it, "We can always Skype or FaceTime as often as you wanted to, help you at least have some interaction with us, and all the kids."

"And our guest room is usually empty, you can visit us as much as you'd like. I don't know if Mason's house is large enough, but if not—I'm sure Carlo would agree with me—we can cover a hotel room for you there in that case."

"Definitely."

"Well, I sure have a few good kids. I suspect, I can muddle through for a while. Plus, I could always rent something in the short-term."

Brandon grew a huge smile, "There you go."

"Thanks, guys. I'm glad I took you up on your offer to spend the night. I'd still be completely in the dark about the future. At least now, I know, I have some options."

"You're welcome, Dad. You know, I love you."

"Same here, Jason. Whatever we can do to make things easier for you, we'll do it. I love you, too."

"Okay, you guys are going to make me cry again. With that burden lightened, I'm very tired suddenly. I think I'll hit the sack. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Dad." "Nite, Jason."

On Saturday, after another free hotel breakfast, we headed back to Jason's condo, letting Mason and Carson know when we were heading over. We all spent most of Saturday at Jason's. He had absolutely decided to move somewhere in the middle between us and Mason, so we helped him sort out Madison's things: what to keep, what to donate, what Murenda and Catherine might have wanted. That all would have been done whether he moved or not. Brandon joked that I might want some of her clothes, which confused the hell out of Derek and Erik. Mason was going to have an interesting conversation back at their hotel later. I'm glad it was Brandon who made the joke and not me. I declined the clothing offer, just so you know. Although, she did have one dress that would look positively lovely on me. Okay, not really.

Sunday, we all went out for brunch before everybody hit the road. We'd asked Jason if he wanted to come back with us while he searched for new lodgings. He refused, saying he'll be busy enough with searches and phone calls, plus he'll go back to work to have something else to keep his mind occupied. He also wanted to give as much notice, he'd be leaving as possible. The other partners would want to replace him, either via promotion from within or a new hire.

Back at work Monday morning, aside from condolences for my Mother-in-law, I got a surprise questionnaire. Bart Hamilton, who had been a teammate of mine for cross-country my freshman year in high school, had requested an appointment. He'd recently found a partner and was struggling with intimacy. Him having a male partner, surprised me a little, however it explained what he said to me when he graduated. Bart had told me back then, he wished I would have opened up to him outside of running. He said we could have had fun.

Nothing much happened until Wednesday after lunch, when Bart showed up. I had Maxine schedule him for a time with a spare session following. I figured there'd be some catching up done before we got into his problem.

"Come on in, Bart. Take a seat."

"Thanks. I doubted there would be two Carlo Marini's in the area, and was hoping it was you. Like they say: long time, no see."

"Yeah, I'd say almost seventeen years. Did I ever thank you for handing me those few wins the year we raced together?"

"A few times, yeah. God, you were so adorable back then, I almost gave all of them to you. Coach would have caught on, though. I wish, I knew you were gay. I think, as I said, we could have had some fun. Of course, I was afraid if I guessed wrong, I'd have Karl to answer to. Are you two still friends?"

"Yes, we stay in touch. He's in South Carolina. He stayed after he graduated from Clemson. Pro football wasn't in the cards. He tore his Achilles tendon his senior year, and ended up using his Business Management degree and became a sports agent. He's done well with it. I see him if he's in town for a client. You know what I do, what have you been up to?"

"I went to UNF after high school, stayed close to home to help my mom out whenever I could. Got a Business Administration and Management degree, I guess like Karl. I worked my way up in the hotel business and now manage the Hilton in Saint Augustine."

"Hilton. Nice. Do you still run?"

"Five miles, every day. Made it to the New York and Boston marathons once each. That was brutal. Took me over four hours but I finished both. After that, I figured, why climb the same mountains twice? If nothing else, I'm able to say, I did it."

"That's cool. I kept it up through college. Once I got to Med school, then married, there just wasn't time. Then I got into this practice, Brandon and I adopted two kids, and now there's even less time."

"Good for you. Where did you meet Brandon?"

"He came to Rockaway High halfway through our junior year. We both went to the Jacksonville FSU campus, married when I was in Med school, and two years ago fostered, then adopted two kids who were essentially kicked out by their parents, at eight and nine."

"Holy shit. I guess, they weren't very good parents."

"That's an understatement, for sure. But they're well-adjusted now. Typical tweens. Billy's ten and Carla's eleven."

"Carla? Did you get to name her?"

"No, just coincidence."

"Well, like I said. Good for you. I never got that chance. I've spent the past ten years trying to figure out if I wanted to be with a man or a woman. Then I met Noah four months ago, and I finally made up my mind."

"Better late than never. But what exactly are you struggling with?"

"Before my dad left us, I got it drilled into me that men shouldn't be together in that way. Believe it or not, I've had more than half a dozen boyfriends since I graduated from college, but am still a virgin, as far as sex with a man goes. Yeah, I did pretty much everything else, but Noah and I have been talking about taking that final step and it scares the hell out of me. We've even had a couple of failed attempts. He thought, I should find someone to talk to."

"I'm glad you reached out, whether to me or someone else. I should ask one question first. Do you love him?"

"Oh, God. More than anything. I wasn't very close to Dad after he left, but when he died in September, it still hit me hard. Noah was there for me every step of the way. I got to return the favor last month when his sister died. Breast cancer. We've been inseparable ever since."

"So, is there something specific about anal sex that scares you?"

"Not really. It's just an irrational fear. Like I said, I was brought up thinking it was wrong. Every time it got close to that point with another boyfriend, I panicked and broke up with them. I can’t and won't do that to Noah. I need to get past that. I want to have sex, full anal sex, with him in the worst way… But the couple times we tried, I just couldn't."

"Physically, or mentally?"

"I don't know. Is it possible to mentally keep yourself from getting an erection?"

"Sure. Stress and confidence are big factors. A person can do almost anything if they put their mind to it. If they're not supported by their conscious or even subconscious, things other people could do with ease, could be impossible."

"That's exactly it. If we're masturbating each other, or having oral sex, there's no problem; I'm hard as a rock. We get ready to do more, and I just think 'I can't do this,' and, poof, limp noodle city."

"Definitely not physical then. Something like Viagra may help, but I think, even that would fail at times. If you were fifty-four and not thirty-four, I'd be quicker to go that route."

We talked for a little over an hour in total. I gave him some mental exercises to do, tried to undo everything his father did to him, telling him, there's nothing wrong with being in love with and showing that love to another man is perfectly okay. I told him it might take a while to escape his parental programming. We set up another appointment in two weeks. I felt that would give him a better chance of succeeding on his own than a weekly visit.

Next up - "Updates on Jason, Bart, and Other Patients"