I began preparation for the shows. Organizing what I was going to need, what I needed to bring. I was going to be gone a month. Chet was adjusting and Mike was relaxing.
I was working in the recording studio control room when Mike came to my door.
"Sorry. The decorator is here."
I turned with a smile. "Okay."
"Can I ask what you're doing in here?" Mike asked.
"I'm getting my band together."
Mike looked at the empty room. "What band?"
I pointed to the control board. "In here." I stood up. "One of the reasons Mark loved to handle my concerts. You saw what I did at the few concerts you came to. My music is prerecorded. I have a computer now that can play any instrument. I program the music and it will record each on a track. I combine them and boom, I have a band. No extra paychecks."
Mike frowned. "Okay, I know shit about music, but don't you have parts that...I don't know....last longer or shorter?"
"Retards." I said.
"I don't mean to be," Mike said slightly offended.
I chuckled at him. "Not you, Baby." I gave him a kiss. "The music."
"Oh."
"A retard is when the music slows down. There are times when it gets louder or softer. That's where my footboard comes in. I can control the music with my foot, or even my hand device I made if I want to prolong a section." I explained doing my hand gesture.
Mike nodded, understanding a bit more. "So, a lot of those hand gestures during the show were actually commands to the computer!" He grinned marveling at what he understood. "And here I thought you were trying to be another Michael Jackson. That's pretty clever!"
We walked back to the other side. "Glad you approve."
Chet was going to love his room. He was moving to the guest room until it was done. His room would be painted and the racing theme. Only he wasn't having a bed that sort of looked kind of like a race car. It looked just like a race car. Black carpet with a mural of a track. Checkered flag on the wall. Even his chest of drawers would look like a tool kit. The big red ones? He loved it!
He met with Ms. Gathers twice a week. We were cautioned he would get it soon. She took him to a few pet hospitals, and he got to see death.
It was the following Thursday, after the session he got it. He was very quiet after the session, and she warned us what to expect. It was during dinner when he suddenly burst into tears.
Mike stood from his place and went picking his son up holding him.
"Mom's dead!"
Mike hugged the boy. "I know."
"She's not coming back!" Chet cried harder.
"I know." Mike took him upstairs to his new room. "I got you."
My heart broke hearing this. But it was a relief he finally understood.
It was late when Mike came to bed. He crawled in, wiping his face from tears he'd shed with his son. "He'll be okay. He was worried that I would die and that you would die. I had to assure him over and over. But what could I say? We won't die? I can't. We could!"
I propped up looking at Mike. "He's at the age where he would worry about that. Now that he knows it's a part of life. It will be hard."
Mike and I hugged for a while before sleep.
My last week before Vegas, I was busy. Very busy. Della helped with the arrangements. Mark made sure The Blue Moon knew what was needed from them.
Amy reported that Wynona had become hysterical when she found a crew hired to empty the house Mike and Sherry had shared so it could be sold. Wynona had begun taking the dolls and other figurines from the house.
"I don't care about that shit," Mike grumbled. "They can take whatever furniture and crap Sherry got. But the house is mine. I worked for it. It is to be sold. Period."
"It will be taken care of," Amy assured. "The insurance company is sending the check to me. I will forward it when it arrives."
"Thanks," Mike said as he hung up. "Now, to continue Chet's education."
Chet had bouts of depression and the occasional tears but seemed to be fine. Mrs. Gathers had told us to make sure he talks about how he was feeling and get things out. Then came the anger. He would throw tantrums.
"Why did Grandma and Grandpa tell me she was on a trip?" Chet demanded.
"They didn't want to hurt you," Mike answered. "They knew you didn't understand what was happening and didn't want to tell you."
"But it was a lie!" Chet bellowed. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"I tried!" Mike moaned. "I told you, but you didn't understand." Mike grabbed him when Chet was storming off. "Listen to me!" Chet froze. "I love you more than anything. I will admit. I didn't know what I should say or do when your mother died. I would never intentionally hurt you. I knew if I told you, it would hurt! That's why I took you to Mrs. Gathers. That's why we are here and not in Charleston. You are the most important thing in my life."
"More than Eric!?" Chet demanded.
That hurt me.
"If I have to decide. Yes." Mike said. "Don't make me choose. I've told you before. You and Eric are important to me, for different reasons. You are my son." Then he looked at me. "He will be my husband." Then he looked back at Chet. "He will be another father for you. I need him in my life. Please, don't make it you or him. I can't do that."
Chet looked at me, still angry. Not at me, but at the whole situation. He walked up the stairs. I heard the door close to his room.
Mike sighed standing. "You heard what I said."
"Which part?" I asked.
"I want to marry you, Eric."
I nodded. "Oh. That part. Yes, I heard you. You've had my answer, but yes. I'll marry you."
"And that red-haired tornado is part of the package." Mike reminded.
"I know."
Mike pulled me to him. "I love you."
That Friday, I was prepping to go to the airport.
"I'll see you next Friday," I told Mike.
He nodded, pulling Chet so his back was to him. "We'll both be there. I'll miss you." He said sadly kissing me.
"You'll be busy." I reminded knowing Chet was beginning new lessons Monday. "I'll keep busy, so I won't think about it. I miss you now."
Mike grinned. "Good."
I smiled at Chet. "I'll miss I'm hungry first thing in the morning." I kissed the top of his head. "I'll miss you."
Chet broke from his Dad and hugged me around the middle. It was the first, long spontaneous hug he'd given me. More than just because I was leaving. "I love you, Eric."
How could I leave? How could I not leave? I felt tears coming. I bent over hugging him tightly. "I love you, Chet. I have to work. You'll see me in a week."
It was a miserable ride to the airport.
I threw myself into the show. Rehearsals and prepping. I worked with the guys that would be backing me up on the dance floor and with extra parts. We had our biker theme, cowboys and merry men. Each show had its own music and sounds. I had props, motorcycles...all with costumes.
The Blue Moon was a large hotel. With a garden courtyard in the middle with pools surrounded by rooms and amenities, so the men could come and go with or without clothes if they wanted. They were sold out. I was sold out. Riding up to the hotel, I loved seeing my name and image on the marquee. All the lights of Vegas on.
It was hard work! I worked from 2 pm until 4 am every night. Only a few glitches surfaced, nothing too bad. As I said, these were my people. My guys and I would do whatever I had to, to bring a little entertainment into their lives. I called Mike every day. Then it was Friday. I had something special for Mike. It was a surprise. But I couldn't wait to show him.
I took them to the Excalibur. Thank god they had babysitters you could hire. All bonded and with references. That evening during the show, Mike watched as I performed, and he was front and center at a small table. There were many rows with tables filled with hundreds of men to see my show. They could fit fifteen hundred in here. Guests of the hotel and men...and women who came, could sit, and have drinks, but to see the show. I must do a good job as they kept coming. Many were repeat fans and saw many shows. This was a formal night. All the guests wore clothes. A suit at least if not the tux, which most wore. I wore a tux as I performed. The guys went crazy. Then the time came.
"I have something special to say." I began. "You all know the songs I wrote over the years. Many were about that someone special. Pining away over someone who was oblivious. Well, here's a new one." I began the song that started slowly and then celebrated the culmination of hopes and dreams as I had finally gotten that one person. Ending with a climax and I ended the song with my usual flair. The guys were beyond crazy now! It's good I had a microphone when I said. "And here he is! The love of my life! Mike!" A light came to Mike's table showing the crowd. They were insane! Clapping and cheering as hard as they could. Mike stood and bowed slightly and walked up on stage. I hadn't planned this, but what the hell? Then Mike took the microphone.
"Guys! Guys." He said loudly as the microphone broadcast to be heard. "I have one thing to say." Then he got on his knee! His knee!! He pulled something out of his pocket. "I've asked you before and now...Eric. Will you marry me?" He opened the box. Now the crowd was beyond pandemonium.
The guys were hurting themselves clapping so hard. It was a ring! A very masculine engagement ring. The men were unstoppable! I brought Mike up and hugged him hard! Then of course, we kissed. We ended it holding on to each other our foreheads touching.
"You're in big trouble now," I told Mike.
"How so?" Mike asked chuckling.
"They know who you are," I answered.
"Yeah." Mike nodded. Then he shrugged. "Your life is a public spectacle, so my proposal had to be one. That was the song you woke up and had to write, wasn't it?"
I nodded. But the guys had begun to chant. "Answer, answer, answer!"
"What?" I asked the guys. "After all these years! What do you think my answer will be? Hell yeah!! I'll marry you!!"
It was a wild night! That show lasted a lot longer than usual, but I did little performing.
It was later that morning, early as the sun was just coming up. I looked at the ring. There was a single diamond, but it was old! Not a new ring. Very nice, but not new.
"Okay," Mike said resting his head on my stomach as I played with his hair. "Here's the story of that ring." He began knowing I was going to ask. "That's my great-great grandmother's ring. My great-great-grandfather, Cesar Vega, was the son of a rich plantation owner. He fell in love with a beautiful woman he was forbidden to marry. Maria. She was poor and not of the right family. Well, he married Maria anyway. He was cast out of the family, but they were together for two years and lived very happily. Then she got pregnant, and gave birth to my great-grandfather, Ernesto. Six months after birth, Maria got very sick and died."
"How terrible!" I protested.
He flipped over. "Wait!" He cautioned. "Cesar was welcomed back in the family, but he never got over Maria and refused to marry again. He had that ring done so he could wear it as a memorial to his beloved Maria. He gave it to Ernesto saying that he was to give it to whomever he chose, but to be sure it was the love of his life and that Maria would protect her and their love. Then grandpa and then you. I'm not supposed to marry you either. But with that ring. You will have Cesar and Maria to watch over you." He smiled at me.
I was touched. "Really?" I looked at the ring. It was beautiful.
"Absolutely," Mike said. Then he got very serious. "Know this. I didn't give it to Sherry. It never occurred to me to do that. But I knew you were the love of my life. I'm giving it to you."
Okay. Gay guys are all about this mushy and teary stuff emotionally. We eat it like candy. But I started to cry.
"I will never love anyone again," Mike added. "You are it."
That did it! Latinos are very romantic people. And he had it down. I don't care if he looked like a gringo, he was Latino. At heart he was. Was it possible to love a man more than I did? I did! My heart hurt! I'm not the sort who likes those corny metaphors, but I have to. We exploded! It was more than just an explosion, it was like the sun went nova, supernova! The Big Bang was just a firecracker compared to this!! I couldn't get enough of him! And he couldn't get enough of me! I was dizzy and lightheaded. Drunk with emotion!
But being the showman, the show must go on! I came into rehearsal. Late. But the guys were there, and they all saw what happened the night before.
"I'm surprised you can walk." A voice said chuckling.
I gave a nod. "Me too." But I was so happy. I didn't care. Then Mark came rushing over.
"There you are." He said almost breathless. "You are very late."
"Mark? What are you doing here?" I asked. He never comes to rehearsal and maybe saw a show once in a while, but rehearsal?
"The internet is going crazy!" Mark said rapidly. "The news of your engagement has blown up on the internet! Guys are emailing, texting, tweeting and whatever the hell else there is. Della can't handle the incoming messages alone. Someone bootlegged the transmission of the proposal, and it has gone viral! Everywhere. It is COLOSSAL!!" But the happy way he told me, he was going to orgasm any moment. "Demands for that new song...what was it?"
I smiled. "Mine at Last."
He snapped his finger. "Yeah, that's it. We've had over two million requests for that song last night!!" He grabbed my arms. "Don't you get it? We are talking gold! You are bound to win a Grammy. I've had demands from not only Advocate, and Inside Out. People, Time and Newsweek. And the Rolling Stone. Don't forget them. Blue Moon wanted to extend your booking..."
"I can't." I began.
"I told them!" Mark nodded. "This is HUGE!" He looked around. "Where's Mike?"
I thumbed in the general direction of Excalibur. "He went back to his hotel to be with Chet."
"They want to interview him, too," Mark said. But his mind was working too fast. "You don't think he'd mind, do you? It doesn't matter. He has to. He just proposed nationwide. Internationally! Hell, every gay man in the world knows!!!"
I put my hand on his arm. "Mark. Calm down." I said patiently. "You'll give yourself a heart attack, or a stroke."
Mark looked at me incredibly. "Don't you understand!? You are a SUPERSTAR!!"
Then I panicked. In my mind, I remembered Manny's hand stopping the door from shutting at the hotel in Charleston and showing up with Wynona and Dr. Johnson at the airport. I looked at my watch. It had been fourteen hours since Mike proposed, more than enough time for Manny to get here. "Get someone over to the Excalibur. Mike doesn't know about this, nor is he protected." Mark looked confused. I looked at him. "NOW!!" Then started running for the front. I had to get to Mike! Mark ran after me, his phone to his ear talking rapidly to whomever he had on the line.
"My car!" Mark shouted. But the valet would have to get it. I didn't have time. The valet was getting a car from another guest, so I shoved him away, taking the keys as Mark shouted something to both the guests and valet. And threw a card at them and got in. I floored it. I skidded to a stop in front of the hotel and raced in, Mark right behind shouting at the men approaching. Uniformed officers and security. I took the elevator and Mark got in just as the doors shut. When we got to the floor I heard a pop as we raced down the hall to Mike's suite and saw a man with his arms raised backing away from the door in the hall.
"I had nothing to do with that!" The strange man declared pointing to the room's interior.
My heart, that had been so happy before, dropped. I saw Mike on the floor bleeding. I saw Manny holding a gun up and pointed at Mike, Chet was screaming and tried to get to his father. Wynona was white and clutching her face. Dr. Johnson was holding the Bible to his chest for protection. His face looked horrified.
I saw the gun, but I ran to Mike. Looking up I saw Manny staring in shock.
"It was an accident," Manny said. I didn't really hear that clearly. All I saw was the gun in Manny's hand that he'd used to shoot Mike.
"YOU MOTHER FUCKING SON OF A BITCH!!!" I saw red. I mean I was so angry. I was not a violent person, but I tackled Manny so hard he flew backward, the gun flew from his hand. "YOU SON" punch, "OF A BITCH!!" And I began punching and punching, blood coming from his face, but I kept hitting and hitting. It was almost involuntary.
"Eric!" I heard finally as I was pulled away. "You're going to kill him!" Mark pulled me back. "He's alive. Mike is alive!" He shook me. "He's alive, Eric." He said softer. "It's okay."
Chet was still screaming in a corner and Mike was reaching for his son. He held his side. "Chet. It's okay. I'm alright." Mike said weakly.
I ran to Chet and pulled him so he couldn't see his father and moved closer to Mike. I held Mike as the police and security rushed in guns drawn. Mark rushed over and pointed to the old man I left on the floor, in a bloody pulp. Then he pointed toward Mike, Chet and me. He showed his card, he explained what happened when we got here.
"Mike, where are you hit?" I asked, shaking as the adrenaline ebbed.
"In the side," Mike replied hugging Chet and me. "I'll be okay, Chet. I'll be okay."
Chet looked furiously at Wynona. "WHY!? Why did granddad shoot my father??" He was crying the whole time.
"He didn't mean to," Wynona said reaching out for Chet.
Chet stood but put distance between him and his grandmother. "He DID!! I saw it!"
"We just want you home. For you to be safe!" Wynona said pleading.
"LIAR!!" Chet screamed. "You are a LIAR!! I am safe! I'm with my Dad. He would never hurt me. You lied to me about Mom! She didn't go see Jesus. She is DEAD. YOU ARE A LIAR!!"
The police and security had heard enough as a stretcher was brought in and the EMT's came beside Mike and Manny.
Wynona looked horrified at her grandson. "Baby, no..."
I took Chet by the shoulders and brought him back as the EMT's worked on Mike. "It's okay, Chet. Your Dad will be okay." The boy buried himself into me. The police were watching as Manny was put on a stretcher. They were pulling Wynona back to come with them.
The EMT looked at me and smiled. "It looks bad, but it was clean through and through. In here and out back here. They will probably keep him overnight." She smiled. "He'll be fine."
Mark walked over as he was being taken out. "I better get that guy's car back you borrowed." He smiled taking the keys I still had clutched in my hand.
"Tell them I'm sorry." I began.
"What!?" Mark laughed. "They were checking in to the Blue Moon. Those two queens were so thrilled to have helped you in any way, they didn't care. They loved that you made them part of this!"
"Really?" I grinned.
"Anything to help true love." Mark nodded. "Now, you know all this will be on the internet too, right?"
I nodded. "Yep. I hope it all comes out." I looked at Mark. "You've been an amazing friend, Mark. Not just my manager. Thank you."
Mark blushed. "Well, I hate to lose you. But if I have to, it's good if it's Mike. Deservedly so. He's a good man."
I thought. "I can't rehearse today."
Mark held his hands up. "No, and there's no show tonight. So, go be with your husband to be."
I gave him a kiss. "Thanks." Then put my arm around Chet. "Let's go see your Dad."
He looked up, his face scrunched. "You gay guys sure kiss a lot."
Mark looked surprised and I laughed. "Yes, we do." I agreed.
We got to the hospital and were escorted to a room where Mike was wheeled in.
"Hey, Sport." Mike greeted as Chet rushed to hug him. Mike winced again. "Easy. Injured, remember?" But he held the boy tight kissing his head.
"Chet and I are checking into another room at the Excalibur. I'll be with him tonight."
"What about the show?" Mike asked.
"My fiancé was shot." I reasoned. "Right now, that's more important." Then I told him about the internet and that every gay man in the world seemed to be hanging on to what happens next.
Mike looked a little chagrined. "I didn't think of that." He shrugged. "I'm not used to this....lifestyle. Being the husband of someone famous." He grinned.
"You made that happen," I said. "You proposed and it went viral I'm told. All those songs written. You did all of it."
He grabbed my shirt and pulled me down. "And I don't regret it." He kissed me.
"See?" Chet said slightly irritated. "Kissing again!"
Mike chuckled. "One day, you'll meet someone you'll want to kiss a lot. Believe me."
"Who will that be?" Chet asked.
"Whomever you choose," Mike answered. He sighed. "So, I was born in one state, married in another, moved to yet another state and shot in the last." He grinned. "It's been an exciting life so far."
"And we can marry in another," I added. "Or even in Cuba!"
Mike's eyes widened. "You know how they feel about homosexuals in Cuba!"
"No. They don't. Ever since they opened Cuba, they have been begging us to come. They've asked me to perform there."
"No way!" Mike said.
"Way." I nodded chuckling. "And when they hear I'm marrying a Cuban!"
"They'll string me up!" Mike said. "Besides, even if they allowed us in, it still isn't legal there."
"I'm just saying. They are opening things more. Our money is green and we spend a lot of money. They want that. We might consider it." I sat in a chair next to him. "Your culture will have no problems with you. As a matter of fact, they will go out of their way to protect you. You denied your Cuban heritage so long, I don't think you remember how."
Mike smiled at that. "Forgot how to be Cuban? Baby, I am Cuban. When we get home, I'll show you what it is to be married to a Cuban." He gave me a serious look. "I saw what you did. I've never seen you that angry when you hit Manny."
"He hurt you," I said. "I feared you were dead. I sort of lost it."
Mike nodded. "Always be on my side?"
"I will be."
Mike was released the next day. I gave all those who had bought a ticket for the show I didn't perform for another concert. And the internet did tell everything. And then some. The truth as to what happened and some fiction. Manny was facing charges. He committed a crime. The internet featured a piece on The Baptist Temple. Bringing a lot of issues to the forefront. Homophobia, racism and odd held beliefs.
During the next few days, I rehearsed and performed. Then the day of Manny's arraignment came up. Manny was no young man, he was in his early seventies. It was nothing to have beaten up an old man, but he had been a strong working man all his life and a former marine. Only the heart attack had slowed him down. Now, he looked old. I almost felt sorry for him. Almost.
Manny stood in front of the judge who asked the question after the charge was read. "How do you plead?"
"Guilty," Manny said. "But I had a good reason."
The judge looked up from the papers she was reading over. "That can be discussed at trial."
"Trial?" Manny asked. "I was protecting my grandson, Your Honor. I had no choice."
The judge raised her eyebrows. "You chose to enter Mr. Calhoun's hotel room, you chose to bring a gun and Mr. Calhoun was shot by you. That is in evidence. You can explain it to the jury." With that, she lowered her gavel.
As I said. The internet covered it all. Most of the responses were in Mike's and my favor. There were the kooks. There are always kooks.
Manny had the right to a speedy trial and that came toward the end of my performances in Las Vegas. Mike and Chet had flown back to Fort Worth, but Mike came back for the trial where he was questioned about his life.
"You began dating the defendant's daughter after being in Charleston for three weeks. True or false?" The lawyer for Manny asked.
"True," Mike answered.
"But you claim to be gay. Why would you ask her out if you are gay?"
"I didn't," Mike answered. "She did."
The lawyer nodded. "But you are gay."
"Just because I'm gay doesn't mean I don't like girls. She was exciting at first." Mike answered.
"You did it because she was exciting. Not because she was rich? Why did you marry her?"
Mike looked ashamed. "She was pregnant. I felt I had to."
The final closing argument came down to this.
"Manfred Atkins went to Michael Calhoun's room, following the man Manfred had hired to locate Michael Calhoun. Went to Mr. Calhoun's room with a gun and was going to take Michael's son whether Michael said yes or no. If there was evidence that the child was in danger because of his father's lifestyle, there would have been means to get that point across legally. Through the proper channels. These are the facts. He had the gun and he used the gun. Manfred Atkins is guilty."
Manfred was found guilty. His sentence was at first to serve time. But Mike argued that in spite of what Manny did to him. Manny was too old to spend his last years behind bars. Mike could not see Manny having to spend time on his account. With the understanding that Manny would return to Charleston, where he would spend his next five years with a bracelet around his ankle he would be put on house arrest. And never be awarded any visitation rights.
That week after the Las Vegas shows were busy again. I got ready for Gay Days at Disneyworld. Chet was so excited. He was packed three days before we left!
And there were people that didn't see us as something good. There were protesters. Chet didn't understand.
"Who are those people?" He asked one day as we pulled into the house. The protesters were on the street across from the house. With signs that had Bible quotes and the "Adam and Eve, Not Adam and Steve" signs.
Mike sighed. "Well, there are people, like Grandma and Grandpa who don't think Eric and I should get married."
Chet frowned. "Why?"
"Because we're both men," I answered. "They don't think we should love each other."
He didn't understand. "Why not?"
"They think the Bible said not to," I answered.
"Does it?"
"In parts, written by men for men. God and Jesus never said a word about whether it was wrong," I said. "But you have to look at it as a whole picture. You can prove or disprove almost anything. According to the Bible, eating shrimp is a sin."
His eyes widened. "It is!?"
Mike grinned at his son. "According to some rules in the old testament, yes. That's why I was so intent that you learn all you can. If I only read you where it was a sin, you would only have that one piece of information. This way, you will be told all of it and you can decide."
"Is it a sin?" Chet pushed.
"I don't think so," Mike answered. "The Bible was written during a time when we didn't have refrigeration or ways of keeping things fresh as we can now. There are all kinds of rules for eating and loving. Like, only eating certain meats and where they are gotten from the animal. The Hebrews were big on that."
"There is a problem with certain meats? Like what?"
"Well, that barbeque we had the other day," Mike answered. "That would have been a sin."
"What was wrong with that?"
"Pigs weren't clean animals," I answered.
"I've never known there were clean ones." Chet shrugged. "They're all dirty."
I had to laugh at that and the simple understanding of a child. "Yes, they are."
"That's why you need to learn all you can," Mike said.
Then we were on our way to Disney. We checked into a suite at the Grand Floridian. Chet was literally bouncing. Even more when I told him. "I have to go rehearse."
"Aw, can't we go to the Disney Park?" Chet whined.
"You can, but I have to rehearse with Mickie, Minnie, Donald, Daisey, and Goofy," I said. "And I think Buzz Lightyear, too."
His eyes grew. "They're in the show with you!?"
"We're in the parade." I nodded. "You'll see."
"Wow." Chet marveled. Then waved at me. "Go, go."
Mike chuckled coming up behind his son. "You heard him. Go!"
I leaned over kissing Mike. "I'm going, I'm going."
All that Disney magic was great! But it was no magic. We had to coordinate all moves and they had to do it in costume. I felt sorry for these guys. And don't think I was the only man up there to entertain, no there were many others. Singers that covered almost all genres. They were either gay or gay-friendly. We were all positioned on the lead float. All the main songs for Disney were sung from Can You Wish Upon a Star, It's a Small World and others. The characters and I were coordinated with our movements. Most of the entertainers did the same. Of course, I watched for two people. But until I found them, it was great to see so many happy faces. And the kids, too. Lame joke, I know. But it was great to see so many families! Really, they were just faces. Dads and Dads with kids, Moms, and Moms with kids, and Dads and Moms with kids. All there knowing what this week was and no complaints. No one was going to make these people feel any less about themselves. Then I saw them. Chet on his shoulders and Mike and he waving happily. Chet calling my name loudly but was drowned out by the music and cheering around. But I waved to them specifically. That's the first time in a decade I felt...they were family. My family. It was an emotional tie I felt so strongly.
This seems like all fun and games, but I worked. Sure, I had three shows that week and two on the weekend, so I didn't get through the park as I wanted. The one day I had free was a day I walked through the park with my family. And Chet got what it was to be famous when a group descended on us at Epcot. About four men and three children clearly the men were gay but free to walk about holding hands or touching.
"Mr. Richards!" One called. "Sorry to bother you, but...could we get an autograph?"
I smiled and nodded. "Sure." I took the pamphlet and signed.
"Now you, Mr. Calhoun." Another moved the pamphlet and felt pen to him.
"But I'm not famous." Mike protested.
"After Vegas!?" A man asked incredulously. "You most certainly are!"
Then the men handed them to Chet. Who signed it. After the group vanished into the crowd. Chet looked up. "Does this happen a lot?"
"Often enough." I nodded. "That means I'm doing something right."
"So, why'd they want mine?" Chet asked.
"Because you are family now with me." I smiled at him. "They know that."
"I am?" Chet asked surprised.
"Yes. Because your Dad is." I grinned at Mike. "Or going to be."
Mike blushed! But he was smiling! "Yeah."
"Oh," Chet said as if it all made sense now. "Can we do Body Wars again?"
"You like being shrunk?" Mike asked taking my hand.
"I like it when we go shooting through the veins!"
"He was bad at Space Mountain. Three times!" Mike chuckled to me.
I chuckled. "Like you and the Hurler?"
"We need to do the one at MGM!" Mike said getting excited.
"The one that takes off....zzoooom!" Chet added equally excited.
"I see where he gets it." I laughed. "Let's do `em all!"
At the end of the week, on that Sunday, the day before we were to leave. I had something special in mind. So, I told them we had to go to a special dinner. That was all. Then when we were about to enter the big dining room at the Floridian. I opened the door. Chet nearly fainted.
There in his proud pose was Buzz Lightyear in the front, Woody, Peter Pan, Aladdin, The Pirates, all of the Dwarfs, Pluto, Goofy, Mickie, and Donald. The words Happy Birthday behind them. There were others there to help and they all shouted the "Happy Birthday!"
I didn't think a child could have a heart attack. But he was panting. I worried he would really faint! "Wh....wah..."
"Happy Birthday," I said smiling at the boy. Then I looked at his father, who was also nearly fainting. "It's not your birthday, Mike. They aren't here for you."
"My birthday is next week!" Chet said softly.
"Yes, well..." I said. "We were here, and this is the happiest place on Earth, so...why wait?"
Mike turned me around and kissed me. "Thank you." He looked at his awestruck son. "I've never seen him this happy."
"He's been through a lot these past three months," I explained. "If I can brighten that a fraction, it's worth it."
Chet walked slowly toward the characters. I would have loved for him to have kids his own age there, but there wasn't time, and he didn't have playmates or friends.
The next few months were difficult. While I had concerts I did in several countries, I would love that Mike and Chet went with me. But there were the questions of a passport for each. I was in London, Paris, Berlin, Madrid and other cities, I would fly back for a week between these cities and spend time with my new family. Mike had the credits transferred and started school. So did Chet. Dilworth Academy. It was a prep school. Grades K4 through 12. Ten students per class and had a good percentage of graduates who went on to college. The best thing was, Chet would not be the only child with same-gender parents. And there were other students who were the children of celebrities or political persons. Also, there were children of the rich. Being that Chet had no schooling away from home, he had to take a placement test. Math and Reading put him above the third grade. Other subjects like Science and History were lacking. So they put him in the third grade. It was a prep school, so uniforms were demanded every day. Except for Friday. Everyone needs a casual Friday. Chet flourished! He couldn't get enough. Then it happened he was making friends.
Mike and I were planning a wedding. Trying to decide what sort of service we wanted. We opted to have the wedding in Fort Worth, but it had a Cuban minister. We were celebrating all that Mike was, and me.
I was working on some new songs when I heard the front doorbell. Della was with a group in the recording studio, Mike was in class and Chet had not returned from school. That left me. I was a bit startled when I opened the door. There was Dr. Johnson and Wynona Atkins.
"Well." I sighed. "I should have known this day would come." I leveled a look at them. "What do you want?"
"We came to see Chet." Dr. Johnson said pleasantly.
"Why would you want to do that?" I asked. "And what made you think I'd let you in my house?"
"He is my grandson," Wynona said angrily. "I'm not allowed to see him?"
"It's not that you aren't allowed. The courts determined you would have supervised visitations. With notice." I pointed out. "Showing up at the door does not constitute notice." Then I looked at Dr. Johnson. He was everything a preacher should be. Well dressed in a suit, the hair combed back and a look that was superior. Smug. "So, are we going to discuss what I should do, or don't do?"
"We're just here to talk." Dr. Johnson said. "Is Chet here?"
"No," I answered. "He's in school."
"School!?" Wynona asked startled. "Sherry homeschooled Chet."
"You have to remember school, you know? That place you went to growing up. To learn to read and write. Make friends." I added. "Where are you staying?"
"A hotel in town." Dr. Johnson said writing the address on a pad. Stripping it off he handed it to me.
"I'm back," Mike called as he was heading upstairs, checking my music room first. "Eric?"
"Here," I replied taking the written address.
Mike came over and froze. "What are they doing here?"
"They came to see Chet," I answered.
"Without notification?" Mike asked angrily.
"That's what I said."
"You can't do that," Mike said firmly. "Any visitation is to be scheduled in advance and supervised."
"We just came to talk." Dr. Johnson said again.
"About what?" Mike demanded. "The last importune visit resulted in me being shot." He leaned on me. "So, forgive me not wanting to repeat it. Even if Manny is still in house arrest for it."
"We were only trying to spare Chet from this....lifestyle." Wynona defended.
"Mrs. Atkins." I began. "Chet is a smart boy of eight. He knew nothing of this lifestyle. He is happy and well adjusted. We don't have sex in front of him. Nor does any of our friends. He is in a loving home. He has friends."
"Can I see him?" Wynona asked.
"We'll let you know when and where," Mike answered. "And in the future. Don't come here." He shoved the door shut.
"That was subtle," I remarked.
"What is it about these people that tell them the law is merely a suggestion?" Mike asked as we went back into the living room.
"A false sense of entitlement," I replied. "And the knowledge that they are always right."
"But they aren't right at all most of the time." Mike groaned slouched lazily on the sofa. "They're dangerous."
I stretched out beside him. "But imagine, what you believe was absolutely right. I envy that."
"What!?" Mike looked at me as if I were crazy.
"These people think they are right," I said. "They know they're right. We don't."
Mike's eyebrow rose. "You don't know you're right."
"No," I replied. "There are things I don't know. A lot of things. I can't see what is wrong or right about everything."
Mike nodded. "But you aren't questioning us, are you?"
"Not about you and me." I laughed. "That's right. I'm talking about all of it. Religion, culture, and tolerance. I have no idea what the right religion is. Is our culture the best? I'm still a racist."
Mike's face contorted. "You must be crazy. You're not a racist."
I grinned. "Thanks. But I am. It's the first thing I see about a person."
"You do?"
"It took a few episodes of Star Trek the Next Generation to not see Worf as a Klingon and just saw him as Worf," I admitted.
"That's different."
"It is." I agreed. "Or in that episode on South Park when the boys were having to come up with a reason for their flag to change. Four white figures were hanging a black figure. Only they just saw five people and didn't see the reason."
Mike shrugged and then nodded. "That's just human."
I nodded. "Yeah, and it shouldn't be."
Mike's hand crept up my back. "How do you see me?"
"Mike. My life partner, husband, and friend." We began kissing.
"Good answer." Mike smiled. "I love you."
"Tell me something I don't know."
"I'm home!!" Chet announced to the whole neighborhood from the back of the house. The sound of feet coming in. "Watch it, Geordi. They're doing it again."
Mike, from his position, had an upside-down view. "Hey, Champ!"
"Hi, Dad!" Chet greeted and landed between us; he never bothers to ask. "Hi, PopE." He greeted me.
"Poppy?" I asked.
"Not Poppy, but PopE," Chet explained. "I've been thinking a while what to call you. I'm trying it out." He pointed to another boy in the room. Same uniform blazer and tie. "That's Geordi Martinez. He's in my class."
"Hi, Geordi." Mike greeted, sitting up. "You're in the same class?"
"Yes, Mr. Calhoun." The blond-haired boy nodded.
"Sorry about the kissing thing." I smiled at the boy.
"Mom and Dad do it all the time." Geordi waved it off. "I'm used to it."
"Geordi Martinez," I said. "Any kin to Senator George Martinez?"
"That's Dad," Chase said proudly.
"Your Dad is senator?" Mike confirmed. To which Geordi nodded. "And he knows where you are." To which Geordi nodded again. Mike glanced at me. "He must be a Democrat."
I rolled my eyes. "Welcome, Geordi." I got up. "I've got snacks in the kitchen, you're free to take them to Chet's room, just don't be messy." Then I looked with horror at Mike. "Did I just say that?"
Mike grinned. "You did."
"Mom! Get out of my head!" I shouted. Then looked at the two boys. "Sorry. It's just....my mother used to say that when I brought friends over. Now I hear me saying it? Mom has to be in my head." Geordi was not sure, but Chet just laughed.
"You have to be the grown-up, every now and then." Mike cautioned. His eyes twinkling with amusement. He motioned the boys off. "Go get the food!" The boys ran off as all boys do. Loud. Mike saw me sitting. "Are you okay?"
I shook my head. "I'm a soccer Mom."
Mike chuckled. "You are not. He doesn't even play soccer."
"You know what I mean." I moaned.
"A taste of suburbia and you're freaking out?" Mike smiled. He sat by me again. "Is that bad?"
"No." I sighed. "It was just...surprising. Not that I want you to think I won't adjust. It's....I never thought suburbia would be me. I'm an entertainer. Then I hear what my parents told me coming out of my mouth and....yes, it freaked me out. I always wanted to be the cool parent."
"I'd say Chet thinks of you as a cool parent," Mike observed, he shrugged. "He's trying to think of a name to call you because you are a parent."
"Yes. Poppy."
Mike shook his head. "Not, p.o.p.p.y. But PopE. P.o.p. capital E." Mike waited. "For Pop Eric?" Then Mike got mockingly smug. "Besides, we both know I'm the cool parent."
My eyebrow rose. "Oh really?" And tackled him.
They were in town and so we took Chet to the hotel the next day. Amy Diaz came with us.
"Why are we here?" Chet asked.
"Your grandmother wanted to see you," Mike answered.
Chet froze. "Do I have to?"
Mike knelt by Chet. "Son, I know you're still angry. But she is your grandmother. Part of you is made from her. And even though I'm still angry at your grandparents, they did what they believed was right. Eric and I will be there the whole time. I promise."
"She lied to me," Chet said yet again.
Mike sort of shrugged. "Well, not really. They believe that your mother is visiting Jesus. But the way they explained it, you thought she was coming back."
"And that was a lie." Chet reasoned.
"Just visit an hour or so. Then we'll leave." Mike said. "They do love you."
"Alright." Chet relented, but not without great sacrifice.
I wasn't surprised to see Dr. Johnson there. He shook hands with everyone.
"And you are?" Amy asked why Dr. Johnson was here.
"Dr. Johnson. Spiritual advises." Dr. Johnson answered. "A friend of the family."
Amy nodded. "I'm Amy Diaz, attorney. I'm supervising this visit and legal advice. Friend and lawyer for the Calhoun family."
That shut the man up.
The visit was stiff. Chet kept his distance, only hugging his grandmother when asked for one. By Wynona. He kept his answers short. This was his idea, not ours. Dr. Johnson just watched. Then Amy escorted Chet to the lobby. Toward the end, Wynona turned to Mike and me.
"He has been coached," Wynona said.
Mike and I exchanged glances. Then Mike spoke first. "Coached to do what?"
"To be distant."
Mike scratched the side of his head. "How does one do that?"
"He was always a loving little boy," Wynona argued.
Mike nodded. "He still is." He countered. "To people he trusts. Which sad to say, isn't you."
"Because of what you've told him," Wynona said.
"Because of what he eye witnessed and we only told him the facts!" Mike shot back. "Even the logic of an eight-year-old could see the truth."
"So you're raising him to be gay!" Wynona shouted.
Mike rolled his eyes. "My god, you're taking no responsibility for any of it. And no one can be raised to be gay! You are or you're not! If he is, fine. If not, fine. As long as he's happy, who cares?"
"I care!" Wynona shouted.
"How do you raise a man to be gay!?" Mike shouted back.
Wynona waved her hands. "You parade the lifestyle right in front of him! He's at an impressionable age!"
"You are so dense!" Mike growled. "You don't know what we parade in front of him."
"I know what the two of you do."
"Is the house bugged?" Mike asked. "Cameras planted. How the hell do you know what we do?"
"I know!" She said. "Sodomy and other perversions!"
"And we do it in front of Chet?" Mike asked. "If you think I have that little regard for that life I was given, take me to court! Prove it."
"He needs a mother and a father!" She said loudly.
"You have a granddaughter being raised by one parent!" Mike argued. "Oh, that's right. She's a mongrel. Her father was black!"
"My daughter was raped!"
"She was not!" Mike argued. "But I'll give her this, she gave birth to the child. But left her with her father because she knew you would never accept her! What color of the sky is in your world?"
"Now, people. Let's be civil." Dr. Johnson cautioned.
"Shut up!!" Mike shouted to Dr. Johnson. "There's nothing you can say to justify them!" He pointed to Wynona. "You and the church's perspective on things is so....set. Narrow and God knows you have to measure up. Well, I can't. Chet is going to be the kind of man he wants to be. Gay or straight. I don't care." He pulled his keys out. "Let's do this again. In say, six more months." He stopped at the door. "Oh, and next time, call first. If you show up again to our door without checking first, I will call the police on you for violating a court order, you'll go home having not seen Chet. And may never see again afterwards!" He hurried me out the door letting it shut hard. "What was I thinking?" He asked no one in particular. "To think those people I wanted to be a part of!?"
"Leave it to Beaver? Mayberry?" I asked. I stopped him. "You saw what they projected to the world. The perfect American family. Like the church. Looking at it, it looked ideal. You made a mistake. I made a mistake. I wanted to fit. I couldn't. I wanted to be what they said was normal. I couldn't do it. It cost us a decade. But think, Mike. We owe Sherry."
"For what!?"
"Chet," I answered. "Admit it, Mike. What she didn't teach Chet is important. What she did teach him, I'm grateful. He is a smart, loving young man. You love him. So do I. She gave the world an amazing little person."
Mike nodded. "You're right."