FicWad

IVORY

Chapter 14
Father of the Year

--

The day was just as warm as the previous night. The birds were chirping, or squawking and a dog was barking somewhere nearby. A group of girls with mohawks, and a couple of them being completely bald walked by, laughing cheerfully about what sounded like a concert they had went to. The joys of Mount Royal. Such a variety of people in that on neighborhood. All social classes, all social identities, and numerous different home countries just in one block. It was a nice place to say the least.

It would be a lot nicer if I had normal neighbors. You know... The kind of neighbors who weren't Sebastian.

Actually it was early. Considering we had been up until 4 a.m. being up at 9 a.m. was a little annoying. I had fallen asleep there and Mace had to go to the protest so he had woken me up, and driven me home. The whole way to my uncle's place we were facing the bright morning sun. Since I was fairly shorter then most guys my age, the visors attached to the car's ceiling didn't really do much to block the sun from blinding me. Seriously, those car companies needed to design those better.

I stepped out of the car - in front of the triplex - and shielded my eyes with a hand as I glanced back and waved at my friend, not that I could see him through the glare of the sun reflecting off the metal and the glass. When he finally pulled away, I turned and dropped my hand as I headed up the tiny yard to the front door. Before I could even touch the door knob, I heard a familiar voice. Sounded like mom had come for a visit and she didn't sound happy. It was not a situation anyone in their right mind would want to walk into, considering her history of lashing out. Rather than being a total dumbass and opening the door, I took a step back and leaned against the wall, deciding to wait until the fighting stopped. Ok, maybe I wasn't so much waiting as I was eavesdropping.

"It's disgusting! This has got to stop!" Her voice was loud and hysterical. "I don't know what you did wrong, Jacob, but you better fix it! How will I ever face anyone ever again if this continues?!"

"Lucy, I'm not happy about this either, but--."

"The hell you're not!"

I could hear my dad sigh. It was a little strange hearing them fight. Apparently they had been good at hiding it from their kids, but the way my dad responded to her, it seemed like he was used to this kind of behavior. All I cared about was finding out what they were going on about, though I did have a bit of a suspicion.

"Believe me, I was floored too. It is gross, but I don't think this is something he can help. You should have seen him, Lucy. I think he's scared." My dad sounded as if he were pleading with mom to understand what he was talking about. "With all the kids I deal with every day... Like... a hundred every day. Maybe one or two will have that look. The last thing I want is for my own son to think he has to hide from me when he's so troubled. If we try to change him, we might lose him."

"Oh my hero." Sarcasm wasn't very becoming of her. "If you're such a smart parent, where is he right now? He's probably out bending over for some diseased fag for all you know. Where has he really been going all these weekends when he claimed he was going out with that girlfriend? He probably has AIDs already!"

Another sigh. "You're being ridiculous. I've taught him about safe sex. I've given him all the condoms he could possibly need. There's no way he'd forget. I'm sure we have nothing to worry about. He's probably just doing what other guys his age do. Club-hopping and doing drugs. I didn't raise a stupid son."

"No? Well you raised a gay one."

"Lucy..."

"It's an illness, Jacob. He's sick. Remember that time he fainted? That probably ties in to it. I don't care how supportive you are. If you loved him, you'd help him change back!"

There was a pause. Maybe my dad believed her, and agreed with her. After awhile, I heard footsteps as they went toward the door, but I made no move to hide. My dad spoke, "Fine. I'll have my brother talk to him. And I'll see what can be done, but otherwise I don't care what you say. He will have my support."

"If you're going for some kind of father of the year award, save your pathetic speeches for the voters." The door swung open and my mother stomped out. She stopped halfway down the sidewalk before stopping, spinning around, and staring at me. The sun behind her made her look almost transparent. It was almost like she wasn't really there. "So women aren't good enough for you, huh? You conceited perverted little creep! I don't want to see your face again until you wise-up! Until then you are NOT my kid!"

I watched silently as she resumed her angry walk toward the metro station. By then my dad was out there standing beside me, but I barely noticed him. My body was a little numb, and I thought maybe I would faint again, but the darkness wouldn't come. I was stuck there in that uncomfortable heat, trying to force myself not to care about what she said. It was one thing when she said such horrible things about homosexuality in general, but it was just devastating when I knew she was talking directly about me, and she knew that it was me. How could someone say such terrible things in regard to their own child? I was baffled. I was hurt. But I was numb.

When my dad looked at me with concern, I felt like I needed to say something, though I really paid no attention to what came out of my mouth. "Last night... Mace and I ordered pizza... Watched movies... I think we're friends again. I meant to come home last night but I fell asleep there."

"I'm so sorry Ike..."

I turned to look at him, feeling strangely placid as I tilted my head. My gaze focused on his mouth as I could not seem to look him in the eye. He had stuck up for me, which was something I hadn't expected, and yet, through his words, I knew part of him agreed with her. His apology - whatever it was for - sounded too forced. So I quietly asked, "Are you?"

"Yes, I..." He stared at me, not understanding why I would question it. He looked almost insulted, and almost ready to get on the defensive. After a deep breath, he seemed to think better of the temptation to argue with me. "Just forget about her. I was planning on having you talk to your uncle anyway. You two should go out to breakfast. If not to talk about your... preferences, maybe he can help you with what happened. As much as I would like to, I don't know anything about dealing with rape victims."

"I'm not a fucking victim." All calmness lost. I moved past him into my uncle's home. For some reason whenever I heard that word, it stung like hell, and made me want to strangle something. No, not the victim word. The R word. It was easier to deal with when people evaded the actual word and simply stuck to denying that it happened. Denying that it existed in my life. As far as I was concerned, it didn't really happen to me. I was harassed by a cell phone. If they didn't even attempt to get off, then it wasn't like that. It was just... an attack.

He followed me, for some reason taking comfort in my sudden anger. "You can get away with talking to me like that when I say something stupid, but don't you dare use that tone with me when I'm trying to help you. I don't care how old you are, I am still your father."

"I don't need therapy. Nothing happened." I went into the kitchen and straight to the fridge. After taking out a bottle of water, I turned to him. "It's none of your brother's business, and it's none of yours either, so let it go... Besides, I don't have time to play a distressed patient to make you feel like a good citizen. I've got things to do today."

"You aren't going anywhere until you talk to him!" Yes, Dad was getting angry indeed.

After uncapping the water and taking a couple gulps, I looked at him with a quirked brow before laughing sharply. "Are you serious? You can't force me to stay here. I'm 21. You lost that right 3 years ago, pal. I don't give a flying rat's ass what you say, I'm going out. I don't know what about this you think will help me. Some sort of new tough love strategy you're trying? Well go ahead and try to stop me, I dare you."

He was on the verge of growling. To be honest I was surprising myself. He took the water bottle out of my hand, forcing me to pay attention. "As long as you live under my roof, you will live by my rules!"

"Correction, I'm living under Uncle's roof." I snatched my water bottle back, and started walking away toward the guest room where I was staying. "But all you gotta do is say the word, and I'll find somewhere else to live. I'm sure I could easily find a big gay sugar daddy somewhere who could help me out."

"... Very funny."

--

It was about an hour later. An hour spent in my room, still numb as I forced myself not to care about what my mother had said. It took a lot of effort, but eventually I had managed to block her voice out of my head. The fact that my own mother didn't want to see me was painful. She said I was disgusting and perverted... diseased... sick; that I wasn't her son. Even having known she wouldn't take it well, I had no idea she'd totally abandon me in this so completely.

As for my father... He was right. I did want to talk to someone. But it was too personal, and him even mentioning it and bringing it to my attention was like a big brick of reality smacking me across the face. I wasn't ready to confront whatever was happening to me in my subconscious. I wasn't ready for reality.

So I sat there for an hour on the expensive sheets of the guest bed. My headphones blasted some good old KMFDM into my head, and in my hands was an electronic organizer. It wasn't something I used often, since I only put phone numbers in it, and all the ones I used I had memorized. But the previous night I had written down Eddie's cell number, and so I had to put it into my useless database. But with my subsiding anger, the room was suffocating, and I couldn't wait until my ride arrived to take me to Pasticcio. Ciel was picking me up this time, because he wanted to take me by a tailor shop to pick up my dress, and maybe have a few little alterations done here and there to make it fit right.

If tonight didn't go perfectly, Ciel would surely blow his top. Every one had complete faith that Yakov could pull off Doris Day with ease, and Ciel was confident with his Connie Francis... And who knew what Lachlan was doing. Naturally I was the only one Ciel was worried about. As Marilyn Monroe, a lot was on me, and he apparently thought I couldn't pull it off without his help. To be fair, he was probably right.

There was a knock on the bedroom door. I barely heard it over my music, so they were probably knocking fairly loudly. Not wanting to act anymore like a thick-headed adolescent than I already did that day, I answered promptly. "What is it?"

"Ike..." The door opened letting a fresh gust of air circulate around the room, and my uncle stepped in. He was different than usual, but it only took me a moment to realize he was in doctor mode. That was obvious when he helped himself to a seat near my bed, and leaned back in a sort of exaggerated ease. "Do you mind if we talk?"

Like I had a choice. "About what?"

"That is up to you. What would you like to talk about?"

I glanced at him and switched off my CD player. That was so annoying when people said they wanted to talk and didn't even have a subject in mind. Maybe it was a psychiatrist thing; making it so awkward the patient makes up issues just to break the silence. I shrugged and decided to play along with his cool indecision. "Hmm... I guess we could talk about sports or... maybe discuss the effects of classic poetry on modern society. I did an essay on that. Oh I know! Let's talk about Marilyn Monroe!"

He seemed amused by that. "Alright. What about her?"

"I don't know." I looked down at my organizer, and went down my list of phone numbers. I had Haley's number... Mace's... Ava's for some reason.... Denis', now Eddie's, and a few people I haven't seen since first year in university. It wasn't a very good distraction since the list was so short. I glared at it as if it were to blame for this situation. "I don't mean to be rude, but please, can we just get to the point? I don't have a lot of time before I gotta go."

Uncle James grew serious all of a sudden and nodded. "Of course. The reason I've come to talk to you is because of what happened to you. I don't know the exact details, but I still think that you should get tested. I won't force you to talk to me about it. In fact, I don't want you to talk to me about it until you are completely sure that you want to. I think the best thing you can do right now is surround yourself with people who care about you. Maybe try a support group. But I stress that you must get tested."

I rolled my eyes. "I went to a hospital after it happened. I seriously doubt anything more is needed. Unless if you can contract a STD from wireless technology, I'm pretty much safe."

"Then let me ask you something." James was still very calm and rather pleasant in his disposition. "Have you had sex?"

"My dad is a Phys. Ed. teacher. There's a lifetime supply of condoms right there. I'm not about to go get tested every single time I have sex if that's what you mean, but I have been playing it safe, and I intend to continue to do so. Now is that all?"

He smiled and nodded. "I understand that you don't want to do it every time you engage in sexual activities." Why did he have to speak in such a textbook manner? "I just think it would be wise to get tested as you start out in this lifestyle. That way, you will know that you are coming into it clean, and not putting your sexual partners at any risk. I realize you think the chances are slim, but it's a necessary precaution."

That confused me a little. Nobody had ever felt the need to suggest I get tested - even as a preliminary precaution - when they thought I was straight. I fixed him with a suspicious glare. "Did you get tested as you were getting started in -your- lifestyle?" When he hesitated, it was obvious what the answer was. So I asked, "When guys my age go to you, who are sexually active with women, do you suggest they go get tested? Do you even ask them if they're practicing safe sex?"

"It may seem like I'm discriminating, but that's far from the case." Obviously the answer to both questions was negative. "But the simple fact is that the risk is greater in gay men."

"Uh huh. That's bullshit. The 'simple fact' is that the risk is everywhere! There isn't a damn person on Earth who isn't at risk. Anyone who can have sex can get a disease." I put the headphones on the bedside table beside the CD player, and got to my feet. As I slipped the organizer into my back pocket and headed toward the door, I continued. "As a psychiatrist, you studied biology, medical stuff, sexology and shit, right? You should know better. Boy was I dumb to think someone who was supposedly well-educated would be a little more unbiased."

Uncle James somehow managed not to let my anger get to him. He stood up as well and started out behind me. "Perhaps it was my mistake to bring this up when you're in such a bad mood. Still, Ike, you can call me anything you want, but I'm only trying to help because you're my nephew and I don't want to see you get hurt. So please, hate me, curse me, anything, as long as you get tested."

"... Fine. Next time I have a few hours to spare, I'll go get tested."

TBC... ... ...