Chapter 3
1935 Words
Phew. “’Night, Daddy.”
Daddy came to him, leaned over, and kissed his forehead. “Good night, son. Things will be better in the morning.”
Tad was pretty sure they would be, but it was nice of Daddy to reassure him.
***
DADDY WAS GETTING ready to leave for work when Tad walked into the kitchen the next morning.
“’Morning, son.”
“’Morning, Daddy. Where’s Mr. Tom?”
“He’s still sleeping.” The corner of Daddy’s mouth tipped in a grin. “He’s not what you might call a morning person.”
“Okay. I’ll make sure me and Becca keep it down.”
Daddy looked sad, and Tad wondered if he knew they’d learned that when Miz Julie had been their stepmother.
“Where is your sister?”
“She’s still asleep.” Should he tell him that she hadn’t been sleeping well lately? Things were getting tense at Grandpa Eleazar’s house, especially since Becca had started getting a bosom. She might be only twelve, but she was going to be tall and blonde like Daddy, and he’d heard their momma fret about it and had seen their Grandpa Eleazar frown when he looked at her.
“Her clothes are too snug, Rebecca. Put her in a larger size.”
And Momma had said, “Yes, Poppa Eleazar.”
Becca had learned not to object. She simply carried a change of clothes in her backpack.
“We’ll let her sleep, then. Mr. Tom called his momma last night, and she’ll be over later to take you and your sister grocery shopping with her.”
“That will be great.” Tad pretended he hadn’t heard that the night before. “Miss Abby is a nice lady.”
“She is. You won’t give her or Mr. Tom any problems, will you?”
“No, Daddy.” He went to the cabinet and reached for a glass. Momma hated when he drank from the carton, and even Becca made a face when he did that.
“Do you… er… do you like Mr. Tom?”
“He’s always been nice to us. The thing is, do you like him, Daddy? It seems to me that’s what’s important.”
“I love him, Tad. How does that make you feel?”
“I told him you did.”
“What? When was that?”
“Last night when you were talking to Momma. He thought you’d chosen him over us, and he got real upset.”
Daddy looked concerned. “Tad, you and your sister mean more to me than anything in the world, and I would never choose anyone over the two of you. But…”
“I understand. It’s two different things. Like apples and oranges.” Tad had been hoping to use that saying for some time, and he was pleased he was able to. “Mr. Tom is your… your partner, but we’re your kids.”
“How’d you get so smart?”
“Good genes?” Tad grinned at him, liking that he’d made him laugh.
Daddy grew serious. “I’m going to see your momma. I don’t want you to get your hopes up, but.… How would you and Becca feel about living with me permanently?”
Inside Tad was jumping in the air, pumping his fist, and shouting, “Yes!” He opened the fridge, took out the orange juice, and poured himself a glass.
“We’d like it, Daddy. If… if Momma says okay, will she let you bring our stuff home?”
Daddy looked really happy, and it took Tad a second to figure out why. He thought of Daddy’s house as home.
“Yes, Tad. You’ll have all your stuff.” Daddy looked at the clock. “Shoot. I have to get going. Your momma’s gonna… Will you be okay, son?”
“I’ll be fine, Daddy. I’ll make some breakfast.”
“There’s not much in the house, but there should be some instant oatmeal in the pantry.”
“Okay.”
“I have the coffee on for Mr. Tom.” He went to Tad and hugged him. “I’ll see you later.”
“Bye, Daddy.”
The door closed, and Tad went to the pantry to find the oatmeal.
***
THE WATER was on the stove, starting to boil, and a bowl was on the table, two packets of oatmeal emptied into it. He heard shuffling behind him.
“Can I pour your coffee, Mr. Tom?” He’d already taken a big coffee mug from the cabinet.
“Hmm?”
Tad turned, and his mouth dropped open. Mr. Tom was yawning widely.
“Mr. Tom?”
“Oh. Thaddeus. ’Morning. Just let me have some Coke. Gotta have Coke to wake up,” he mumbled, running a hand through his hair.
“Uh… Mr. Tom?”
“Yeah?” He opened the fridge and reached for a can of cola.
“Becca isn’t up yet, but don’t you think it might be a good idea to put on a bathrobe, maybe, or your shorts?” Tad could feel his cheeks heating up.
“Huh?” Mr. Tom’s eyes peeled open, and he stared down at himself. He was naked. “Oh. My. God. Oh, s**t. Oh….” Wide awake now, he yanked a dishtowel off its rack and held it in front of his groin. “Sorry, Thaddeus.” He started to back away, heard Becca coming down the other hall, and whirled and bolted, neglecting to cover his backside.
He was out of sight by the time Becca walked into the kitchen.
“What’s so funny, Tad?”
“Nothing, Becca.”
She gave him the look that said “Brothers are weird” and he laughed harder.
“Do you want some oatmeal?”
“Yes, please.”
“Sit down.” He poured the boiling water over the oatmeal and handed her a spoon.
“But this was yours.”
“That’s okay. There’s enough.”
“Where’s Daddy?”
“He’s already left. He’s gonna talk to Momma. Becca, Daddy wants us to live here.”
“Oh, Tad, do you think Momma will let us go?”
“Sure. I think. I hope.”
Momma didn’t seem to have much use for him since he’d taken to hanging around with Jonah and Noah, and she didn’t seem happy with the fact that Becca was growing up.
“We’ll know when Daddy comes home. Mr.—” He bit his lip, trying to bottle up the laughter. “—Mr. Tom is here.”
Mr. Tom came back into the kitchen. He was wearing sweatpants and a Pulaski and Jasper U baseball T-shirt with its Minute Man logo.
“’Morning, kids. Sorry about that, Thaddeus.” He looked sheepish. “I’m not a morning person.”
“That’s okay, Mr. Tom.”
“Y’know, if you two are going to be around….”
Becca looked interested.
“… around more, I mean, maybe you can just call me Tom.”
“Oh, no! Daddy wouldn’t like it.”
“Well, I don’t like being called Mr. Tom. I sound like I’m your Thanksgiving dinner.”
Tad and Becca both laughed.
“Uncle Tom?”
Mr. Tom flinched. “Good God, no! That makes me sound like a book by Harriet Beecher Stowe! And before you suggest it, UT is out also. People will think I’m half a urinary tract infection!”
UT—standing for Uncle Tom. Tad laughed harder.
“May I think about what to call you?” Becca asked.
“Of course. You can think about it for a while too, if you like, Thaddeus.”
“Oh, no. I know what I’m going to call you.”
“You do? Am I going to be sorry?”
“I don’t think so.”
“All right. Tell me.”
“JT.”
Mr. Tom seemed to chew that over for a bit, and then he nodded. “That sounds pretty good. What does it stand for though?”
“Jack’s Tom.”
Becca looked curious. “For Daddy?”
“Yeah. What do you think?”
“I like it.”
Mr. Tom blushed at first, but then he laughed. “You know something? I like it too.”
And Tad had a feeling that this was going to work out okay.
Chapter 2 – Enter Rush
RUSH DALTON HAD known for as long as he could remember that his brothers were more loved than he was. Gratton, the oldest, was the apple of their father’s eye, while as far as their mother was concerned, Emmett, the second son, could do no wrong.
He had also known, although for not quite as long, that there was nothing he could do to gain his parents’ love, but he refused to stop trying.
He started carrying antacids in his backpack around the time he entered Lyman Hall, the posh prep school that both his brothers had attended. At first the Tums had given some relief, but that hadn’t lasted long, and he’d taken to swigging Mylanta like it was mother’s milk.
Now even that wasn’t helping.
As a result, he was pale and sweating when he made the phone call. “This is Rushton Dalton. Dr. Forster used to be my doctor.”
“I’m afraid he’s—”
“Please, I have to see him.” He could hear her sigh over the phone line.
“Hold on, please.”
He waited as the receptionist went to speak with the doctor, picking at a loose thread until the button on his shirt fell off. Dr. Forster had not only been his pediatrician, he had also been a friend of the family at one time.
Rush hadn’t known who else to call.
He continually massaged his right side while he waited for her return.
“Mr. Dalton, the doctor will be able to see you for a short while after his regular office hours this evening. Will that be suitable?”
“Yes, thank you, yes.” He hung up and reached into his pocket for the roll of antacids.
***
IT WAS AFTER eight when Rush arrived to see Dr. Foster. The receptionist unlocked the door and ushered him to the doctor’s office.
“He’ll be with you shortly.”
“Thank you.”
The room was spacious. There was a large desk bracketed by two equally large leather chairs which Rush remembered from his last visit, a state-of-the-art computer on a return, bookshelves filled with volumes covering all manner of childhood illnesses.
Rush rubbed a restless hand over his right side and went to examine the framed diplomas and citations that covered one wall, hoping they would distract him.
Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. The burning really wasn’t too bad right now, and he hadn’t vomited today or felt bloated all afternoon.
Before he could come to any sort of decision, the door opened, and Dr. Foster entered the office.
“Rush.”
“Dr. Foster. Thank you for taking the time to see me.”
“It’s been quite a while.”
Seven years.
The housekeeper had taken him to see Dr. Foster because he needed to have a physical exam in order to join the Lyman Hall Prep School track team, and of course both his parents had been too busy with their own schedules.
The physical had been routine, and afterward, after he pulled his sweatshirt down over his narrow chest and drawn his sweatpants up over his skinny hips, Rush sat in the large leather chair on the other side of Dr. Foster’s desk, waiting for him to finish with the paperwork his school required.
He’d been given this one golden opportunity, his parents wouldn’t think anything of it, and he wasn’t going to blow it.
“Dr. Foster, I’ve…” Flustered, he stared down at his lap. How could he talk about s*x, about masturbatory fantasies, to this man who had always treated him well—better, in fact—than his own father?
“Let me guess?” Dr. Foster’s smile was understanding. “You’ve just turned fifteen, haven’t you, Rush? Your body is reacting to outside stimuli. Maybe you’ve been checking out the size of the other boys’ p*****s in the locker room, to see how you measure up? You’ve found your father’s Playboys, which…” There was laughter in his voice. “… he reads only for the informative articles.”
Rush blushed and bit his lip, avoiding the man’s kind eyes.
“All boys your age are curious, Rush.” Dr. Foster rested a hand that Rush assumed he thought was comforting on his. “It’s perfectly normal; nothing to worry about at all. Now let me fill out this form for the physical education department, and you can be on your way.”
And the golden opportunity passed him by, because really, how could he explain that it wasn’t his father’s Playboys with big-breasted, naked women that left him reaching into his briefs and fondling his d**k, but his mother’s Cosmopolitans, with the sleek male models who were dressed in elegant formalwear, or low-slung jeans that clung lovingly to thighs and butts and unbuttoned shirts that hung open over hairless, muscled chests, sometimes allowing a glimpse of flat n****e? If he studied the pictures intently, he could almost make out the bulge behind their flies, and he shivered and imagined himself replacing the Cosmo girls they were squiring.
- Writer
