After the tense visit with his grandmother, Chet was not very talkative. Sullen was the only word I could think of as he wasn't depressed, but he was...thinking about something. Mike was driving us back. He looked in the rearview mirror at his son.
"Chet," Mike said patiently. "What are you thinking about?"
"Nothing," Chet said automatically.
"Really?" Mike frowned. "You're face says otherwise." He shook his head. "I told you before. I can't know if you don't talk to me. There is a problem I can see you working out in your mind. How can I help if you won't tell me?" He sighed. "You know how I feel about lying."
Chet looked a little alarmed. "I'm not lying." He said quickly.
Mike nodded a little. "You may not mean to, but you just did. I asked you what was going on in your mind. You said nothing. That isn't true, is it?"
I smiled at Mike and Chet. Whatever Mike had taught his son to think more logically, Chet knew what his father was saying. "I'm just confused."
Mike nodded smiling. "That's better. If you tell me what you're confused about, maybe I can help clear it up."
Chet sighed from the heavy burden on his mind. "It's Grandma."
Mike nodded but paid attention to traffic. "Okay. You've given the subject, but what about Grandma are you confused about?"
Chet threw his hands up at the futility he felt. "Everything! She was asking me question after question about what I see..." he waved at me and his father, "you and PopE do." He frowned. "I didn't know what she was asking about."
I knew what he was saying, and I knew what Wynonna was asking for. Something to get Chet away from Mike...and me.
Mike nodded. "Okay, you told her what you see."
"I did!" Chet said frustrated as an eight-year-old could be. "She kept asking me if I saw...other things. I didn't know what she meant. I said I saw you kiss a lot." He looked at me nodding grinning. "And you do a lot." He said with a slight grimace.
I chuckled. "Yes, we do."
"She kept asking me," Chet said now more confused. "Why was she asking me that?"
As smart as Chet was, he had been sheltered from the world, but he tried to make sense of things.
Mike looked at me. "I told you." He said patiently. "They see what Eric and I are doing as wrong. She is really worried if you're safe. She wants to be sure you don't necessarily see...things."
"Things?" Chet asked now more confused. "What things?"
"Mike," I said. "Sorry Chet, your father and I need to speak Spanish a minute."
"Because you don't want me to know what you're saying," Chet muttered knowing why with his arms folded in irritation.
"That's right." I nodded. "Mike, ¿por qué no le dices de qué tiene miedo?" I asked Mike why not tell him what she was afraid of.
Mike looked uncertain. "¿Como qué? ¿nuestro ser íntimo?" He questioned if we should tell him about our being intimate.
I sighed. "¿Qué tiene de malo? Si actuamos como si fuera algo para no ser discutido, él podría pensar que está mal. ¡No lo es!" I said if we kept it something we couldn't discuss he might think it's wrong and asked Mike if he thought it was.
"No, of course not, but..." Mike nodded and looked back at Chet. "When you grow up, Chet. You will find someone that you will want to make love to."
Chet's eyebrows came together. "Make love? You mean sex."
Mike was turning a little pink.
"That's right," I told Chet. "It's a wonderful thing for two adults to do." I then gave Mike a look. "Eres tan malo como la mayoría de los padres que no hablarán de sexo con sus hijos." I told Mike he was as bad as most fathers that couldn't talk about sex to their children.
"¡ es personal!" Mike defended.
Chet chuckled. "That, I got. You said it's personal."
Mike's eyebrows rose. "How'd you learn that?"
"They teach Spanish, French, and German at Dilworth." Chet grinned. "I'm taking Spanish."
"I guess we'll have to come up with another language to keep secrets from Chet." I chuckled at Mike who groaned. "She is afraid you'll see us having sex and make you want to."
"That's what all living things do," Chet said simply. "I've seen dogs do it."
"But she is worried you'll see your Dad and I do it."
"Why?" Chet asked louder and a little demanding. "It doesn't make sense!"
"I'm glad it doesn't, son." Mike smiled, relaxing more.
"She kept asking if I were safe." He said. "Why does she think I'm not? All you've done is kiss! That's not dangerous. Is there more?"
"Yes," I said.
"Dog's don't kiss...well...not like we do. Your grandmother really wants you safe." Mike explained.
I put my hand on Mike's arm looking back at Chet. "She doesn't understand, Chet."
"She doesn't want to understand, son," Mike said as frustrated as Chet was. "Yes, you were right, Eric. They think they are right about everything. That sense of entitlement just is...unfounded."
"You want me to disagree with you?" I smiled. "I think so, too." I looked back at Chet. "I am so glad you can't make sense of it, Chet. You see what your father and I have isn't bad, don't you?"
"Why would it be?" Chet said. "You love Dad."
I smiled. "I do."
"And Dad loves you." Chet reasoned. "How is that bad?"
Mike chuckled. "We don't think it is." He said simply with a shrug.
Things were going to confuse him. Somehow, Mike had gotten Chet to think things out and how to understand the reason for things.
What shouldn't have surprised me, but it did, was the popularity of the song! Yes, there were many that liked my music that weren't gay. My song had no specific pronouns and the object I sang about could have been anyone you pine for.
We were driving together one evening and the radio was on.
"...and now, the newest in the top five is from our own local talent Eric Richard's song at number five on the pop chart. Mine at Last!" The disk jockey announced enthusiastically, and my song began.
Mike grinned as he reached over from the passenger seat and turned the volume up. "I still can't believe you wrote that song for me."
I rolled my eyes. "Who would it be about? Della!?"
Mike laughed. "It could be." He nodded. "My name wasn't mentioned!"
"Nearly every song on the first CD was about you," I said, "except for You're Poisonous which even Dr. Gathers understood that was about Baptist Temple."
Mike nodded. "Still, I'm just amazed."
I reached over taking his hand. "And artist creates what he's inspired by. With me...it's you." I growled. "Even Mark inspired me to write a song."
Mike looked surprised. "You wrote him a love song!?"
I shook my head. "On the second CD, the song Make Up Your Mind and Decide was about him."
Mike thought as he remembered the song. "Oh." He searched his memory. "It was...different from your other songs."
"Minor keys and angry words." I nodded and shrugged. "It was not a love song. I was angry!"
Back home after Chet was in bed and going to face another day of school, Mike came into our room smiling. "He's a genius!"
I looked up as I pulled down the bed. "Oh? I take it there's a new discovery to confirm what you know already."
Mike nodded and went into our closet. "He decided his grandmother and grandfather were wrong."
"We told him that," I said not understanding.
"No, we didn't," Mike said correcting. "We said his grandparents thought we were wrong and we thought they were wrong. We never really said for him what was right or wrong." He came out of the closet in just pajama bottoms. "Don't you see? We never told him to believe or not to believe anything." He came up and hugged me. "He reached his own conclusion. He weighed the evidence, and he decided his grandparents are wrong."
"And if he decided we were wrong?" I asked moving my face into his field of vision.
Mike looked like Chet had when he was confused. It was very clear where Chet got that look from. "How would he do that?" He wasn't seeing the logic. "You see two and two equals four! You can count. It is four! People that tell you it's three or five are just...wrong."
"Human relationships are a little more complex than two plus two, Mike."
Mike gave a shrug and then shook his head. "Yes. The evidence is more complex. That's why it took him a while to come up with the conclusion." He hugged me and then held me back again. "He said...Dad, Grandpa and Grandma are wrong about you and PopE."
I laughed. "He said that?"
"In those exact words!" Mike said happily. "He saw the facts, evidence and he decided they were wrong."
"I agree, he is a genius," I said pulling him in for a slow kiss. "He gets it from you. You're brilliant."
Mike looked embarrassed. "Well..."
I shook my head. "No. I knew you were the night we met."
"How?"
"The way you expressed yourself. The words you chose, no slang or you know or like." I grinned running my fingers over his chest. "I also noticed how attractive you were...skinny, but attractive."
"That was ten years ago!" Mike laughed.
"Yes, but I saw you, Mike," I said simply. "I liked you from the first moment."
Mike lowered his head a little and looked away a nodded. "I did you, too."
"I could tell even then. We had a connection." I said. "We were stupid not to admit it to each other, but there was a connection."
"We admit it now. That's certain." Mike said.
Things did sort of settle into a nice routine. I shook my head as I was getting Chet up for school and doing the same for Mike. "I am a Mom and a wife," I muttered to myself. Still, I was happy. The many countries and crowds where I sang the new song to only added to the popularity. I sang a lot of songs, but that one was the newest. What I always hated was...you hear a song you like...you hear the song done at a live concert and due to instrumentation and interpretation, it changes. I didn't want that. Recordings during a concert had audience reactions recorded as well. After I had gotten home I did record the song to add to my CD.
Upstairs in the control room, I was working on the dance club version of Mine at Last. It could be danced to as it was, but it could be made to last longer and there were added tweaks I gave it to have it blend better. I was startled a little when the doorbell rang on the other side. However, it rang again and again as if whoever was there was pushing and pushing giving the sense of urgency. I got up wondering what was the problem to check to see what was going on. At the top of the stairs, I heard.
"Coming, coming!" Della said quickly and loud to whomever as she went to the door and opened it.
Mark burst in the house holding a stack of papers, a big envelope in his hand and a laptop. "Where's Eric?" He asked frantically without looking at Della.
Della looked at him with a smile. "I'm fine, Mark. How are you? Can I get you some coffee?" She said to him as he hurried in, but not answering his question on purpose. Mark could get focused on when something was...urgent.
"He's upstairs!" Mark concluded and began heading toward the stairs.
Coming down I grinned at him. "I was upstairs," I said to him.
"You are number one!!" He announced stuffing the papers and envelope between his legs and opened the laptop. "You are number one on the Billboard Charts! Mine at Last is skyrocketing worldwide!" He said excitedly. "You are number one on the Pop Chart here, but in England, too. Other parts of Europe are catching up!" He was so happy. "This is going global!"
I came closer to him taking the papers from between his legs and pushed him back toward the couch as I nodded patting him on the chest. "Okay, Mark. This is good news. Sit down and take a deep breath. Do I need to get you a cum rag?"
He did sit down, but he was still excited. Like his entrance, he wasn't really paying attention because of the excitement. "You're not getting it!" He told me as I sat beside him. "I wasn't kidding in Vegas. You are a superstar! They can't keep your CD's on the shelves! It was on the Future Hits, but now it's a hit on the Pop Chart and the Dance Charts. The UK's Singles Hits! They aren't gay or even bisexual! Straights are buying this!"
I admit it, my heart was now pounding. "Well, I hope so. It's a love song. It could be for anyone that loves someone and finally gets them. Music is music." I said simply. "I'm working on the remix for the dance clubs."
"Good, good." Mark nodded happily. "You are being demanded all over!" He picked up the envelope and papers. "Rolling Stone, Time, Newsweek, Advocate, and Out are demanding you for that interview." He went through the papers he printed off. "Logo wants an interview with you and Mike! They want you to appear in New York for the New Year's Eve event there!" He waved the envelope. "They sent a script!"
I looked at the thick envelope. "A script?"
"For a movie!" He said excitedly again. "They want you and your songs in the movie!" He shook his head shaking the script. "This is Brokeback Mountain good!"
I took the script and looked at it in disbelief. "Why is it good?"
"I just skimmed it, but it's tailor-made for you, Eric!" Mark urged me to see it as a big event. "About a guy, an entertainer who meets a guy that's not really out. They fall in love and the entertainer wins him over! It is good!" He waved at me. "It's you! With another name, but it's you. The writer was looking for someone to do this and..." he grabbed me and shook me, "he hears about you and the explosion you had in Vegas and wants you!"
I looked at the thick script. "I'm not an actor, Mark."
"Bullshit!" Mark said happily. "Every night you go on stage, you act! They want to start filming in the first of the year!"
I rose from the couch. "Wait, wait," I said now feeling the weight of what he was saying. "I have concerts scheduled!"
Mark nodded. "And they will work with that! Normally they film first before the songs come out, but the song is out there. It will add to the draw to the film!" He stood again. "Your other CD's are selling now! Don't Blame Me is climbing the charts again."
That's when Mike came home. Walking in the living area he looked at us, but his pace slowed down. Mark was still excited and there was the script and Mark held the laptop. Something was happening. "Hi, Mark. You're here because?"
Mark hurried to tell Mike what all he had said which took a while as I paced a little thinking about what was demanded if I agreed.
"Where are they filming?" I asked not really listening to what Mark told Mike.
"Hollywood." Mark shrugged.
"Which would take me away how long?" I asked.
"A few weeks," Mark said simply. "A month maybe. The props and location shoot isn't difficult." He waved at the script again. "It's modern times and the locations are urban. The timing is crucial. You'll be getting the nomination from the Grammy Awards, I know it. Not to mention the People's Choice and others!" He walked over to me taking my arms in his hands shaking me slightly. "This is your chance, Eric! This whole thing will launch you into mega-superstardom." He said softer but looking at me to understand that fact. "This is what you've worked for," Mike added not moving, but he saw the opportunity also.
I did travel a lot taking me away from Mike and Chet often, but it was another month away. "Memorizing a script?" I shrugged. "I've never done that." I looked at Mike. "I will be kissing someone. Who will that be?" I asked Mark.
Mark nodded. "They're looking for the other star now."
"I can't just kiss...anyone," I said simply. "If I don't have feelings for them!"
"Well, there's that Chris Hemingford, that actor that played that superhero? He's in the running. Don Pratt, he was another hero in another sci-fi movie and Tom Spencer. That detective on that cop show everyone's talking about. He did a couple of movies." Mark explained.
"And all straight!"
Mark looked surprised. "So? They are actors."
"I've kissed you and Mike, that's it," I said quickly. "And Susan. A couple of other girls because I was supposed to."
Mike came closer to me. "I've kissed a few more that you have, I know. It's not hard."
"I wanted to kiss you, Mike," I explained. "Because of our stupidities we didn't. Mark was the first man I kissed and the only other man I kissed until you."
"You've kissed guys on stage," Mark said not understanding. "It was in many acts."
"A stage kiss in front of hundreds or thousands of others," I explained.
"This will be a stage kiss," Mark said simply. "Just close up."
"And it will look like I mean it!" I stated not seeing why he couldn't see why I would have a problem with that. "You kissed me first!" I pointed at Mark. "When I did kiss you, I meant it!" I shook my head. "How do I act like I'm in love with whomever?" I threw my hands up. "I will never cheat on Mike," I said to Mike and then realized what I said and turned to Mark. "I'm sorry, but I never cheated on you, either."
Mark nodded. "I know. I cheated on you." He said sadly. "I'm stupid."
Again, I was at a loss to explain what I was feeling. "Mark, you are not stupid. If you were, you wouldn't be my manager. I still think of you as a friend. You know that."
Mike shook his head. "Wait, you kissed Hap Lawson and Barry Windham, I saw it."
"They're friends of mine and did you see the kiss?" I asked Mike. "It was like...kissing a brother. Because they are!" I frowned and grimaced. "Definitely no tongues."
"Hey," Mark smiled. "You give him your tongue?" He asked, pointing at Mike.
"Mark!" I laughed swatting him lightly making him chuckle and dodge the swat. Mark could probably kick my ass if he wanted to because he was a former marine.
"Just look at the script." Mark pleaded. "It's you! A former singer who sang the...Christian music and comes out to entertain more mainstream..."
"This is you," Mike said to me. "How long ago did he write it?"
"About ten years ago," Mark said. "It was really after some guy...Ray Boltz?" Mark said not really knowing who that was. "He came out having done the same thing you did."
I smiled as I knew Ray Boltz by reputation. I remembered what he'd done. "Yes, he did. He won many awards singing Contemporary Christian music." I nodded. "He is a talented man and has a great voice," I said remembering the song he recorded. "He'd been doing Christian music a long time when he came out." I shrugged. "Telling the whole world he is gay. The song he wrote and sang Don't Tell Me Who To Love was a powerful song. He turned the churches and Christian community on its holier than thou assess and put them up in arms. People like Dr. Johnson, Wynona, and Manfred Atkins were very angry." I sighed. "I was thinking of his song when I wrote Don't Blame Me. He kind of inspired me to write it." I smiled remembering the song. "I must have listened to it a hundred times." I looked at Mike. "If I do this movie...and we will decide that." I looked at Mike. "I don't ever want you to think I would or could fall in love with someone else, Mike. That's what I'm worried about. If we aren't comfortable with it...and I mean me and you are uncomfortable with it. I won't do it."
Mike smiled kissing me. "Okay, we'll read the script."
"I know this is life...is new for you, Mike...being a celebrity." Mark said hesitantly to Mike. "He is a celebrity and so are you now, but I know he loves you." He touched my arm lightly. "He always has."
Mike smiled hugging me tighter. "I know he does." He kissed me again and looked at Mark. "Thanks."
Mark nodded and turned to Della who had been listening to the side. "Della! When did you get here?"
She rolled her eyes, shook her head and headed off to the kitchen. "I'll get the coffee."
When Chet came home from school...without his usual explosion he came over to me and looked very puzzled. He looked like he'd had a rough day. The school blazer was still on, but the shirt was half in and half out. His tie was loose, and that orangey-red hair not neatly combed now. He was a boy!
"Hi, Champ!" Mike greeted his son.
"Hi," Chet said quietly without looking at anyone. "Hi, everybody." He came closer. "I heard that song." He told me when he came in where Mark, Mike, and Della were talking about plans and different concerts coming up. Sitting between Mike and me again without asking, nor was he worried there wasn't enough room. He knew we'd make room for him. He didn't need to ask, he was comfortable with the two of us. We had been going through the requests for interviews and working out some sort of schedule to do it all. Mike was in school himself, so I had to consider his schedule as well.
I thought I knew what song he was talking about, but he needed to tell me. "I have many songs out. Which one?"
"That Mine at Last." He said as he was pondering what he wanted to know so he could ask. "Some of the guys at school were listening to it. Geordi told them he knew you and you were marrying my Dad."
"Okay," I said waiting for him to continue.
"It's a good song," Chet admitted with a nod and little smile. "I like it." He looked at Mike. "It's about you, isn't it, Dad?"
"Well, it was written for me, but it can really be about anybody," Mike replied.
"I wrote it about how I feel for your Dad," I answered looking at Mike. "I wrote many songs about your father."
Chet was again looking confused. "There were some older boys there, sixth and seventh grades. Geordi and I were together when they asked me if you were fucking my Dad."
Mark, startled at the simple way Chet said what he did, nearly choked on the coffee he was drinking, and Della just got up quickly and said. "Okay, I'll make some more coffee...in there." She pointed to the kitchen and left.
"What!?" Mike blurted out immediately shocked.
"Mike!" I said quickly and loud then reached over grabbing the front of his shirt. "Parada. Probablemente ni siquiera sabe lo que eso significa." I said saying he probably didn't know what that meant.
Chet looked at his father and me, then he looked at Mark and slid down on the sofa. "That's when they don't want me to understand them. It's bad, isn't it?" He looked at his father. "I didn't know what they were talking about."
Mike was shocked, but I was rubbing Mike's arm and shoulder. "I told you he didn't. Be calm, Baby."
"You don't know what that word means," Mike said to be sure.
"Geordi did, but he wouldn't tell me what it means, and said I should ask you two," Chet said looking from his father to me.
"I will thank him for that next time we see him. You were right to ask me because that is a bad word, son." Mike said quietly.
I raised my hand and added. "The word fuck is the name for what adults do when they have sex," I explained smiling. "It is a word that we consider bad. Though, I will say this: your father and I do not do that. Ever! We make love. The word has been used in bad ways for a long time. Many times, not even talking about the activity. Your father and I have sex. We told you that."
"But the word fuck is often used when there is the activity when there is no love at all," Mike said. "I love Eric. He loves me. When we do have sex, we do not ever fuck. Fuck is just the act."
"So, what is sex?" Chet asked innocently.
Mark put his mug down and stood up. "I'm going to help Della."
"Mark, freeze," I said firmly to him causing him to stop. "Don't give Chet the idea that it's embarrassing or dirty. It's not." I pointed to the chair he had been sitting in. "Sit down, please."
Mark looked uncomfortable but did what I asked. "If you two are going to talk about it with him...shouldn't that be in private?"
"Why?" I asked. "We all do it."
Mike smiled at me and looked at his son. "I can explain the mechanics of sex, but that's only part of it. The emotion is what makes the difference. There are natural human processes done to have sex. I think we need to do that in private." He grinned at Mark. "It makes some people...uncomfortable."
"Why?" Chet asked.
"We view it as something personal," Mike said. "It is, but we need to talk about it. You're growing up and..." he started turning red again, "you will do it, too. How can you be ready if I don't tell you?"
I pulled Mike in and kissed him right over Chet. "That's right." I looked at Mark. "And you..." I grinned. "He's a little boy. He needs to know sex isn't bad. We all do it. Don't walk away. There's nothing to be ashamed or embarrassed about."
Mark nodded. "I know, but...isn't this family stuff?"
I grinned. "Oh, Mark. You are family to me. I don't just keep you around because you're good at your job, but I like you. I always will. You're a good man."
Mike chuckled. "I can accept that. In fact, you're family to me, too."
Mark looked surprised to hear that. "I'm your husband's ex-boyfriend."
Mike shrugged. "You're my...ex-boyfriend-in-law?" Then he looked with a stern look. "But no more kissing my husband."
Mark laughed pointing to me. "He'd kill me if I tried."
As I was getting things done to go to bed, having brushed teeth and all that, I came in the bedroom to see Mike propped up in the bed reading the script. I smiled at Mike as I approached. The feeling I had seen him there was just hitting me again. He glanced up and looked momentarily puzzled and then smiled.
"What?" Mike asked as I got on the bed.
"I just love this," I admitted waving at him. "This is so...right! The one person I've always wanted is here...with me and I feel..." I sought the words to tell him, "at peace with everything! For the first time in my life, I'm happy. You belong here with me, Baby. Not just in our bed, but our lives."
Mike chuckled as he nodded. "I wholeheartedly agree!" He held the script up. "This is good. This isn't Brokeback Mountain. Brokeback Mountain was about two guys that hid what they felt for decades! This isn't. This story is about triumph! They love each other and that in the end, they begin a life together and it is a victory!"
I slid in next to him. "It would be better if you were in it," I said simply. "I wouldn't have to act like I was in love. I am."
"I think the message is important," Mike said putting his arm around me as he brought me close kissing the side of my head as I looked at the script with him. "Love conquers all. Even for us, that should be what it's all about." He chuckled. "Now, there are a few scenes that I question."
"You've read the whole thing?" I couldn't believe that he could have.
He gave a shrugging nod. "Well, yes...I skimmed through a lot." He turned some pages. "There are a few scenes where...you'll be naked with whomever."
I looked at the page he was holding up. "Okay, well...I don't have a problem with showing my ass. We've all got them. How will you feel if I show my ass?"
Mike chuckled. "Aroused." He said simply as he kissed me more directly on the mouth and with a little more intent. "You've got a beautiful ass."
"You're the one that gets my ass."
Mike nodded. "That's right. You're the only one to get mine." He turned back to the script. "What I do like is the fact that...whoever wrote this has to be gay. Neither your character or this...Cory character isn't portrayed as a dominant or submissive. No top or bottom, but simply a man in love with a man." He put down the script. "This isn't you? It reads very much like you."
"It will be me if I do it, but no." I got up dragging him behind me, not having asked if he would come with me. I brought him to the computer in our room. "Have you heard Don't Tell Me Who To Love?" I asked to confirm what I knew. "I'm pretty sure you haven't."
"No," Mike said. "Ray Boltz? He wasn't Catholic. David Haas is who I know. The Baptist Temple never played Ray Boltz's stuff."
"He came out as gay," I said simply. "He became the enemy." I typed quickly. "By the time you got to Charleston, he was out." I pulled up some of his older work and he listened to a couple of the songs. "Now," I said grinning. "Listen to this!" I pulled up the song, Don't Tell Me Who To Love. As the video played, Mike's face got softer. The words were...just right at the heart of it all. Starting with 1966 when the law and preachers were saying interracial marriage was against the law and a sin. Then to men and women like Mike and I being told the same thing. The people in the video showed...everybody. Men, women, drag queens, lesbians, the flamboyant gays and what the church considered odd...everyone who was there and told by Ray's song the world just didn't understand!
"Wow," Mike muttered as it ended. "He hit the nail on the head with that."
I nodded. "He sure did. When I wrote Don't Blame Me...I was really inspired by him and this song. Our messages are similar, but while his song explained that people simply didn't understand. Mine was about me being who I am and also the world was blaming me for something I simply was. It wasn't a choice. His life and mine were parallel in that...he thought since he became a Christian, that longing he had would go away. I did, too. I thought if I did things as I was supposed to, I wouldn't be gay." I shrugged. "I am gay." I pointed to the man's image. "He is gay. Fortunately, I woke up and didn't have the marriage and four children, but our paths were similar."
Mike nodded. "As I've told you. Being gay in Cuba, pretty much got you nothing but killed. Those like my mother who came from Cuba carried that hatred with her. All Cubans did, for the most part." He got up. "Granddad Calhoun was over in Cuba when Castro came into power. He got himself and Grandmother out of Cuba before it was too late. The hatred of gays in Cuba arrived in Florida." He said walking back to our bed. "Miami and most of Southern Florida were full of people from Cuba. There were gays in those numbers, but we could never be out. We would do it in alleys or the back of cars...or in private at home, but never out."
We crawled back into bed and I tossed the script on the bedside table. "That isn't just Cuban. Its humans everywhere. Until human understanding changes, it will be." I pulled him to come over me. "We are out. You asked me to marry you." I held up my left hand showing the ring I never took off since he gave it to me in Vegas. "Cesar and Maria Vega were witnesses. We..." I kissed him, "are getting..." I kissed him again, "married."
"Yes, we are." Mike lowered himself over me. "You're right. There is a peace now."
In the morning, I watched Chet race toward the door to get on the Dilworth van that came to pick them up and drop them off. Why didn't they wear the backpacks instead of carrying it? "Bye, Dad!" He called and then added. "Bye, PopE!" I waved at Chet.
"Bye, Sport!" Mike said as he came down dressed for his day in class. Fall and winter in Fort Worth wasn't bad weather wise. It could be practically boiling in summer, but it was drier than Charleston. I grinned as he came in dressed in jeans and a loose shirt. He was a student, not a professor...yet.
"I'm sorry." I said crossly as Mike came over to kiss me and froze surprised. "You need to go back upstairs and change."
Mike looked down at what he had on to see the problem. "I don't understand. What's wrong with what I have on?"
"You're too sexy. Go change." I grinned pulling him closer.
Mike smiled and came the rest of the way and kissed me. "Oh, yeah?" He said. "You are an actor. You had me believing there was something wrong with what I had on."
I cocked my head at him. "You're right. It's not the clothes at all." I smiled kissing him again. "It's just you."
Mike hugged me tightly. "Then I can't let you out in the world at all. You're always sexy. We're going to have a good life together, Eric."
"We have that already," I said pulling him in the dining area. "There's cereal...I can make toast or something. We have muffins..." I saw he was about to protest as he often did when we lived together before. "Mike, don't do that. You need to eat something. They call it breakfast, to break the fast you did while asleep. You need it to have the fuel to get through the day!" I shoved him lightly in the direction of the table. "So, what will you have? No arguments. You're eating."
Mike nodded with a chuckle. "Fine." He went to the cabinet and got some of the muffins we had and a plastic container of granola. "I'm eating, I'm eating." He assured me.
We sat and enjoyed our morning meal and just talked about nothing and everything...as it should be between partners in life.
"Should I worry about those boys at Dilworth?" Mike asked munching on the noisy granola, and I grinned as he had to wipe the milk spilling a little from his mouth.
"Do you think you should be?" I asked.
"That's why I asked you." Mike reasoned. "Because I don't know. Chet's been so sheltered all his life."
"You're his father." I didn't want to overstep any boundaries.
Mike sat back a little and looked bothered by that. "And what are you to Chet?" He took my hand. "Baby, I can do it alone raising him, but I thought you loved Chet."
"I do!" I said quickly. "But I'm your boyfriend...soon to be husband, but..."
Mike pushed back a little more from the table. "You are right." He shook his head. "We need to speak with Amy Diaz." He leaned in toward me. "I value your opinion with Chet. Will you be a parent to Chet? I mean legally."
"You want me to adopt Chet?" I asked to make sure I understood what he wanted; my input or more.
"Yes." Mike hesitated. "If you want to."
The fact that Mike wanted me to be a parent to Chet was not surprising. The feeling I had was...he trusted me...with his child! "Of course, I want to."
Mike smiled. "We need to find out from Amy Diaz what we need to do. We need to get...what? A power of attorney or something for you to have some say about Chet's care?" He smiled. "Do you think we need to talk to Dilworth about those boys?"
I smiled and shook my head. "No. They didn't threaten Chet. They used a language they shouldn't have, but Chet needs to understand the world. He will hear those words again. School is doing that. He has Geordi Martinez as a friend. If they bully Chet, we will have to, but...I don't think anyone would dare. Not at Dilworth. Until Chet comes home and says otherwise, no. He needs to learn to deal with it himself."
"Okay." Mike nodded and looked at his watch. "I better go." He stood up and pulled me to my feet. "I love you." He said embracing me tightly. "What you said last night is right. I feel so...at peace with you. This is the way it is meant to be." He pulled away just to kiss me deeply. "You said before, you're a soccer mom." He shook his head. "No. You're Chet's other father. You aren't my wife or even husband. You're my partner in this life from now on. I need you. Chet needs you. I will never leave you. Don't leave me."
I kissed him again as deeply as he had kissed me and hugged him. "I'm sorry, that idea is just inconceivable to me. I love you."
He smiled at me rubbing his thumb over my cheek. "I'll be home soon." He kissed me lightly and walked out the back door to go to the university.
It was still too early to call Amy, so I read over the script for the movie. It didn't really have a name yet. Breathless was on the cover with a question mark. I didn't know this Marty Cummings Mark had written on the script for the author's name. Mark was a smart man, but seeing the I on the printed script sent typed from someone's computer...the name sort of told me it was probably female. Mark had a tendency to see and hear what he wanted when tunneled. The screenwriter was one that had done several movies. It was a script and written in dialog form with directions on how the scene should be portrayed. It was a pretty good...though a tired plot. It had been done before. A successful businessman named Cory, engaged to a beautiful woman meets my character named Daniel, was raised in a strict religious family and sang. He came to grips with what he was and was carving a life for himself. Both men were in their early thirties and fall in love. Well, Cory does but resists and the angst is Cory's coming to grips with the fact that he's gay. The lines weren't bad. I could think of better ways to put some things, but...I wanted to follow what the writer put down. She saw the story like I did a song. No one would dare change my song. Therefore no one should change this woman's story. Just because I wouldn't use the words there. Could I do that?
I did call Amy Diaz when it was later that morning and left my name and number with her secretary. It was maybe an hour later when she called and I explained what Mike wanted to have done.
"The power of attorney is fine. I can have that drawn up and come over when Mike gets home today. He will have to sign it and witnessed." She explained. "Adoption is very possible. There are several avenues to choose from. The best way is marrying Mike. After a year of that marriage, it will go through unobstructed. There will be the inspection, of course."
"Della is here and I'm sure she'd witness...or even Mark." I said expecting that. "His grandparents shouldn't give us problems," I said ending the sentence in a questioning way.
She laughed quickly. "Not with their background. Chet's grandfather shot his father!"
"I was there," I said laughing. "I didn't see the shooting, but I saw the aftermath immediately. I was going to kill Manny Atkins!"
Amy laughed. "I would have, too, but don't be surprised. They might try to stop it when they find out. There are other possibilities...avenues they can try. I'm sure they will. Just be patient, marry Mike and we'll take it from there. The power of attorney can be done today."
"That's great! We'll see you later."