All the characters and events in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to real people, either living or dead, is entirely unintentional.
The story is copyrighted and may not be reproduced in any way without the express permission of the author who can be contacted at:
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PJ
D'n'M Part 7
From Chapter 3:
"You said there were two things. What was the other one?"
"What? Oh, yeah. Well, it was then that Milo was really struggling to make sense of his sexuality, you know, to understand his feelings for other boys. He'd known for a long time that he'd got feelings for Dan but this all happened a while before they got together. But he had a cousin, Zephan, my sister's boy, who'd worked out that M was gay but still very much not out. So he decided to make the most of the situation, one time when we went to visit and the two boys had to share a bedroom, and then later when Zeph was staying with us for a few days."
"What did this Zephan guy do, beat him up for being el maricon?"
"El maricon?" This was a word Gerry had never heard before.
"A faggot."
Chapter 4:
Gerry was completely thrown by what Nico had just said. Why would he use such a word? He surely couldn't mean it. It must be another sign of just what he'd been forced to endure in his young life. It had to be a result of his own direct experience of sexual abuse and the environment he'd grown up in, hadn't it? Any other explanation was not something that Gerry wanted to contemplate. Was the word something the boy himself had been called over the years? Very likely, so how was he to know how unacceptable it was. And not just the word, but the thoughts and attitudes behind it.
"We don't use that sort of language, Nico, not about anyone and definitely not about Milo and Dan." He was aware of the sharpness in his voice and forced himself to soften it as he continued. "Milo is gay and it's nothing for him to be ashamed of or for anyone to criticise. Unlike what some people think -- bigots and fascists, every one of them - it's not something he has any choice about or control over. Every day I am proud to call him my son, and you are luckier than you'll ever know, to have him as your uncle." Gerry took a breath and very consciously relaxed and softened his face, anxious to reassure Nico that no lasting harm had been done by his unthinking use of the homophobic slur.
Now it was Nico's turn to be shocked, a fact that couldn't have been clearer from the expression on his face. This was a side of his grandpa that he'd not seen before. It was scary, but sort of comforting and reassuring too, in a way he couldn't yet work out.
Gerry's shoulders sagged. Why did he have to go in so hard? He was sure to have destroyed any notion of trust that was beginning to develop between the two of them. He was dreading the next words to come out of the boy's mouth. That's assuming there were any and that he hadn't decided to go back to `silent mode'.
Nico dropped his head, unable to continue looking Gerry in the eye. "I'm, I'm sorry grandpa. I didn't think. I won't ever say that again. Not in any language. I promise."
Gerry let out the breath he didn't even know that he was holding. He got up and walked round to the other side of the kitchen table, turning Nico in his chair and folding him into a huge hug.
"I believe you, son, and I know you weren't being deliberately mean about your uncle. You've got a lot you're trying to sort out in your head and get used to. A lot that's very different from what you've experienced in the past."
There it was again thought Nico from the warm and comforting depth of his grandpa's arms. What, exactly, did he know about Nico's past? And how did he know it?
Gerry gently relaxed the hug then moved his own chair so he could sit closer to Nico and maintain some of the physical contact between them. Then he continued the story about Milo and his cousin.
"Zephan saw a golden opportunity to get his teenage rocks off. He guessed, accurately as it turned out, that Grace would go ballistic if she found out that Milo was gay so he forced him into giving him oral sex."
"You mean a blowjob?"
Gerry nodded and immediately noticed a knowing expression appear on Nico's face.
"And my mum's mum walked in on them?"
"No, it was Kate who found them. And instead of standing up for her brother, instead of protecting him from the bigger, stronger boy like a good big sister should, she ..."
"She told her mum. Uncle Milo's mum." This was said in a totally flat, almost disembodied tone of voice. Nico so didn't want to believe that his mum could have done such a thing, could have betrayed her own kid brother, and it certainly wasn't something she'd ever mentioned any of those times she'd bad-mouthed her family over the years. But, somehow, Gerry's answer came as no surprise.
"Yes, I'm afraid she did." Gerry sensed Nico stiffen beside him and instinctively put a hand on his arm. "But you mustn't blame her," he hurriedly went on. "By then she was in a really, really horrible place herself." He remembered what Kate had written in the letter. "The only way she knew to make herself feel better was to make someone else feel worse. And on that particular day that someone was Milo."
"So what happened? How did mum's mum react when she found out about Uncle Milo?" Nico wasn't totally sure that he actually wanted to know the answer to the question but he couldn't stop himself from asking.
"Well, when Grace predictably went off the deep end, Zeph, the little shit, claimed that it was Milo who'd come on to him and Kate did nothing to challenge that. Grace was beside herself with anger and, well, hate. She chose to believe Kate and Zephan and hurled every appalling degrading insult at her own son as she threw him out of the house and told him never to come back. The poor boy was completely traumatised -- who wouldn't be? - and I was away somewhere working, so wasn't there to do anything about it." His voice sounded full of regret. "If it hadn't been for Dan's parents taking him in I honestly think he wouldn't be here now." The inevitable tears were flowing freely down Gerry's face.
"You mean ...?"
"Yeah. He would have found a way of ending his own life, I'm sure of it. He was in such a bad place." Nico could tell that this was something his grandpa could barely bring himself to say. "I owe so much to the Reed family, all three of them. It's a debt I'll never be able to repay."
Gerry wiped the tears away with the back of his hand and drew in a deep breath.
"You know what, bud?"
Nico looked up and shook his head.
"I need a break. I bet we both do. Why don't we grab a drink and then go outside and kick a ball around for a while? I think I should be able to find one in the garage somewhere. But don't worry, I promise to finish the story. I'm not trying to keep anything back from you."
That thought hadn't even crossed Nico's mind. In fact, he hadn't given any thought to anything once Gerry had mentioned the possibility of a kick around. Memories of yesterday's match still floated in and out of his head every now and again, so the chance of being able to relive his imaginary successes on the soccer pitch was too good to pass up. And besides, he suddenly knew that he needed some time to process everything he'd been told that morning and a game of one-on-one would be the perfect opportunity to give himself some head space.
It turned out that Gerry's soccer skills, though not of the highest quality, were good enough to keep Nico on his toes for the best part of an hour, but eventually he needed to call a halt.
"Of course," he said to Nico as the two of them slumped onto the wooden bench which stood against the garden shed, washed in afternoon sunshine, "The person you need to get to play soccer with you is Dan. He was a good little player as a kid. I reckon he'd have been captain of the Greenside High senior team if he'd stuck with it. We all thought it was a real shame when he gave it all up. Not that anyone blamed him, not after what he'd been through."
This was the second time Nico had heard about Dan playing soccer and then giving it up for some mysterious reason.
"So why'd he stop playing -- if he was so good? He must have enjoyed it."
"That's another long story, son, and one Dan will have to tell you himself. But I don't expect you'll find it easy to get him to open up about it. There's still a lot of hurt inside the poor boy. Milo was a huge support to him at the time and it's been that way ever since. The two of them make the perfect couple. I couldn't be more proud."
Gerry glanced over to Nico and it was clear that he didn't find that answer at all satisfying so, to avoid any more unwanted probing, he thought it best to finish telling him what happened after Kate had dropped the `Milo's gay' bombshell.
"I can't tell you any more about Dan but, if you're interested, I can tell you what happened next to your uncle."
Nico nodded.
"So, as I said, Helen and Roger took Milo in and gave him a home. More importantly, they gave him the proper family he'd been deprived of for longer than I care to think about. Like I said before, I truly believe they saved my boy's life. And mine too, in many ways. Brought me to my senses, at least. Made me realise what a selfish bastard I'd been. And what a useless father."
Nico was aware of a change in Gerry's tone of voice. It had become somehow distant, sort of disembodied. When he looked up he saw that his grandpa seemed no longer to be talking to him but to someone unseen on the far side of the garden.
"I know that I can never get that time back again, those years when I thought my own selfish need to stay away from Grace with all her complaining and bitching was more important than the need for my children to have a proper, loving, hands-on dad." He turned towards Nico and took hold of both his hands, much like he had that very first day when Nico had refused to get out of the car.
"That's why I promise you I'm gonna do better, now that I've been given a second chance. I'm gonna be the best grandpa any boy ever had. Scouts honour and cross my heart." He grinned as he made the sign on an X in the middle of his chest. "And you have my permission, Nico my boy, to tell me, straight out, whenever I come up short in the grandparenting department."
Nico found himself being drawn into yet another hug. Increasingly it was becoming clear that this was one of his grandpa's specialities. He could get used to it. He was tempted to let the moment last for as long as his grandpa was happy and willing to keep holding him in his arms but the need to hear the rest of the story won out.
"So Uncle Milo was with Dan's family, but what about my mum?"
"Good question. Once Roger and Helen managed to get me to pull my head out of my ass I knew I had to step up. It was obvious that I had to do whatever it took to get Kate out of Grace's claws. By that stage she was well and truly hooked on the drugs that the shit boyfriend had been using to control her and Grace was constantly boozed up to the eyeballs, so I got them both into rehab and away from each other as soon as I could. I used to visit her, your mum, but she'd never speak to me. Just used to glare at me and stay silent. Pretty much like you've been doing." He hoped this gentle teasing wouldn't trigger a negative response. There was no sign that it had so he continued. "It wasn't difficult to work out that I was the real bad guy, at least as far as your mum was concerned."
This was the first time that Nico had ever heard about his mum's teenage drug habit -- it explained a lot -- and she'd definitely never mentioned about going into rehab. He needed to know more.
"So when she got out of rehab, what happened then? Did she go back to her mum, my, er, gran?"
"You're right, she did get out but she was in there for months, and by then Grace and I had divorced and she had moved away to the other side of the country, though not far enough as far as I was concerned. I sort of expected, hoped I `spose, that Kate'd come to live with me and we would work together to rebuild some sort of relationship."
"But that didn't happen?"
"No, son. The next thing I heard was from the rehab clinic. They sent me a letter, out of courtesy, they said. You see, by then Kate was legally an adult so the staff at the clinic didn't have to tell me anything. Well, anyway, like I said, I got a letter and in it they told me that your mum had left the country."
"What, you didn't know? My mum didn't tell you herself?" The tone of disbelief in Nico's voice was unmistakable.
"No, it came completely out of the blue. I had no idea that she was even thinking about it. Like I said, she'd never speak to me when I visited. The letter said that she'd taken a job abroad, as a nanny to an overseas diplomat, and that she might or might not decide to get in touch with me at some time in the future." Gerry was struggling to keep his voice clear and unemotional. He was barely succeeding. "And I realise now, thinking about it and counting the months, that she must have been pregnant with you at the time. That's something else she didn't tell me. Just goes to show what a shit dad she thought I was."
Without warning, Nico stood up and moved away from Gerry and the bench they'd been sitting on and walked towards the middle of the lawn where he'd left the soccer ball. He reached it and, in one swift motion, he turned on his heel and kicked it with all the force he could muster, launching it like a missile straight at the side wall of the garage. There was a terrific THUMP as it rebounded straight back. With all the skill he'd developed during years of random pick-up games back in Buenos Aires, he put out his right foot, brought the ball expertly under control then launched it back at the wall for a second time. And a third. And a fourth.
At first Gerry thought the boy had simply become bored with the story about Milo and Kate and had decided to go back to the game, but then he realised that every kick of the ball was accompanied by a single word being repeatedly shouted, louder every time.
"Mentirosa," Nico was yelling, over and over again. Gerry didn't recognise the word, assuming it was something in Spanish, and what it meant he had no idea. He watched as the kicking became more frenzied and the shouting got louder. After a few minutes he saw that Nico was becoming increasingly distressed, that the shouting was ever more desperate and that the kicking was becoming less and less accurate. Eventually he sank to his knees, put his head in his hands and sobbed.
Alarmed, and realising that Nico hadn't simply worn himself out, Gerry jumped up and ran from his seat on the bench. Seconds later he was in time to gather the boy into his arms just as he was about to collapse onto the grass.
"Liar!" he muttered between gasping breaths. "Liar! Liar! Liar!"
Gerry heard this and nearly panicked. He absolutely knew that he had to convince the boy that everything he'd told him had been the truth. If he couldn't manage that then there was no chance of any sort of meaningful future for the two of them.
"I promise you, Nico," said Gerry, holding Nico close with one hand and gently stroking his hair with the other, "I know it's not easy to hear, but I promise you that I'm telling you the truth. I'm not lying." He was trembling inside, sure that, by being honest and upfront with Nico about his mum, he'd totally blown it and that his new-found and already much-loved grandson would never want to see him again. `Idiot! Idiot!' he kept repeating to himself inside his head.
There was a moment of silence, punctuated by Nico's slowing breaths. What, if anything, was he going to say?
"Not you. Her! She was the liar."
At first, Gerry couldn't make sense of what Nico was saying. Who did he mean? Then the penny dropped.
"You mean your mum? You mean she's the li..?"
Before he got to finish saying the word he felt Nico's head move under his hand. He was nodding in agreement.
"She never told me the truth. She always blamed everything on you. She said you'd ruined her life. It's why I've been refusing to talk to you. She said she had to leave the country because of you." Gerry felt Nico's body begin to shudder. He was sobbing again, quietly. Gerry tightened his hold.
"It's gonna be ok. Everything will get better. I promise you."
But Nico was barely listening. Gradually he was beginning to understand more and more. And if he'd got it right, then it wasn't just that his own mum had lied to him over and over, it also meant that she'd had choices. Yes, all along she could have done things differently. She could have chosen to protect her brother. She could have chosen to forgive her father. She could have chosen to face up to the decisions she'd made. Instead she'd chosen to run away and put the blame for her shitty life on anyone and everyone else. And the result of the choices she'd made was that she'd flushed her own life down the toilet and very nearly taken his with it. How could she? How fucking could she? How could she do that to her own son? Nico forced himself to stop crying. In that moment of realisation, the feelings washing through him switched from unbearable sadness to blinding anger. He wanted to punch something. Someone. His mum.
"I hate her! How could she do that to me? I hate her!" He was shouting and struggling to escape from Gerry's arms. And although he was pretty much stunned by this sudden turn of events, Gerry knew better than to let him go. He automatically tightened his grip still more and continued to assure the boy, in a soft and steady repetition, that everything was going to be okay and that all would turn out for the best.
Neither of them knew how long they remained in that position, kneeling on the grass, wrapped in each other's arms, as time passed and the sun began to sink into the western sky. They were both locked in their own turbulent thoughts. Later Nico would have no memory of what had gone through his mind -- probably not much worth remembering, he decided - but Gerry knew that he'd come to a very important decision. It was clear to him that Nico had been fed a completely skewed version of the events leading up to his mum leaving the country and that he needed to know the real truth about his history. And not his, Gerry's, version of the truth. No. He needed to have it explained to him by his mum herself, which meant that he needed to be told about Kate's letter.
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