The drive back from the forest was exhausting. Jonathan had forgotten how far away from the cabin the grave site was—the one Dan now shared with his beloved Sean—and how badly he walked these days. He was no longer the eighteen-year-old boy who had been lost in this forest sixty years ago. He was an old man, whose bones felt the age, and whose heart was broken.
Dan’s passing had been so sudden, so unexpected, that he still hadn’t been able to wrap his head around it. Yes, the return of the cancer was a shock, but why hadn’t Dan fought it? He had always been the fighter in their relationship, the one taking up whatever challenge came their way, be it with adoption agencies, social services, courts, schools, or parents bullying their kids.
They had led an amazing life together, and for the biggest part of it their age difference had been inconsequential. Then at seventy-five, Dan had decided he wanted to enjoy his life—fly-fish out by the cabin, kick up his feet, spend time with the kids and grandkids—and finally retired from his writing. Jonathan had been only sixty-three then, still working, and the next five years had been tough; it had nearly cost them their relationship, until Jonathan finally relented and gave up his job with the foundation.
Thinking back on those difficult years, Jonathan smiled. How silly of me. He’d never really had to work. With his inheritance, they’d had enough money to last several lifetimes, but he was so caught up in his charitable work that he couldn’t take himself out of the equation. When he eventually did, Jeanette had stepped in and was still running the charity now, while Rick looked after the family’s financial portfolio. Things continued as they always had.
Jonathan and Dan had retreated to their lakeside cabin, to enjoy life, just the two of them, other than when the kids or grandkids came to visit, which they did often. They also traveled a bit, although Dan had never really been much of an adventurer. He was firmly anchored to the cabin by the lake, and Jonathan was happy simply to be with his man.
Without Dan, what would he do? He doubted that he’d stick around the cabin. Not on his own. He had long ago vowed to never become like Dan, who had mourned the loss of Sean all by himself, in seclusion. That wasn’t who Jonathan was.
So, who am I? he wondered. He wasn’t sure he liked the answer, because right now, what he really wanted was to fall asleep and never wake up again, at least not in this reality. He wanted to join Dan on the other side, spend eternity with him, and Sean.
That same thought had entered his head at Dan’s funeral, and it had made him chuckle. Their grandson Parker, who had only recently come out to the family, had noticed and asked, “What’s so funny, Grandpa?”
Jonathan had shaken his head, unable to wipe the smile from his face as he said, “Nothing, nothing of consequence!” Just an eternal threesome…
In truth, it was a prospect he wasn’t entirely ready for, nor was he sure he was looking forward to it. He’d never been the jealous type. Dan had never given him cause to be, and he certainly couldn’t fault him for having loved before they met. But now Dan and Sean were reunited in heaven, where did that leave him? It was mind-boggling. Best not to think about it. Jonathan tried to think of something else, and his thoughts drifted to Parker, sitting next to him in the back seat.
These days, being gay was no different than being a brunette or blonde. For the most part, discrimination was a thing of the past, except for a few religious extremists who still clung to ways long ago sent to the scrap heap of history. But while gays were no longer discriminated against, society remained largely heteronormative, if for no other reason but than there being more straight people than gay. It was still—and Jonathan figured probably always would be—difficult to realize you weren’t the norm, and a “coming out” was still something kids had to go through.
“Tell me, Parker, is there someone in your life already?” Jonathan couldn’t be sure, of course.
Parker gave his grandpa a cocked look as if trying to ascertain if he’d somehow guessed, before he replied, “Well, actually, there is someone…”
Jeanette turned around in the passenger seat. “You’re dating? You’ve never told me!”
Parker blushed. “Sorry, Mom. It’s really not been serious for that long, and you know how it is. You don’t bring people home—particularly not if your parents don’t know you’re gay.”
Jeanette looked scolded, and despite his sorrow, Jonathan had to laugh. “Well, son, I wish you all the best in the world, and when you’re ready to introduce us to that young man, we’ll gladly welcome him into our family. Until then, get to know him better…”
They continued the rest of the drive in silence, interrupted only by an occasional question from the two youngest ones—sitting behind Jonathan and Parker in Jeanette and Paul’s large SUV—about how much farther it would be. When they finally approached the city, it was already dark outside, fall having brought along much shorter days.
“Now, Dad, are you sure you’ll be okay in the house all by yourself?” Jeanette peered over her shoulder at him as they pulled up outside Jonathan and Dan’s city home. “You’re more than welcome to come stay with us for a while, if you like—permanently, if you want.”
“Thanks, Jeanette, but I’ll be fine. I need some time to be on my own. Gather my thoughts, sort through my emotions. This past week has been so hectic I’m barely able to think straight. I think being on my own is exactly what the doctor ordered. Don’t worry about me. I’ll see you on Sunday for brunch, as always…”
Jonathan got out of the car and walked slowly up to the front door. He unlocked the house and went inside, closing the door behind him without looking back. He knew Jeanette would take it as a sign of weakness and ask him again, and he really wanted to be alone tonight.
No, he didn’t want to be alone, of course he didn’t. If he’d had a choice, he’d rewind the clocks seven days, to the day Dan had died, and make it all go away. Sixty years they’d been together, and in those sixty years they’d barely ever spent a night apart. Sure, there were the times when Dan was on assignment for various papers or magazines, writing about economic challenges and political upheavals around the world. Jonathan had often tagged along, making the most of those trips to get to know the world. Later, when he’d graduated from college and had begun to put the money he’d inherited from his mother to work, he was no longer able to travel as much or as freely. They had still ventured out, had still traveled, but Dan hadn’t been into it.
I kind of miss it, though. Maybe now’s my chance. Maybe this is my window of opportunity, to get out there and see the world, while I’m still healthy and able.
The house was dark, but Jonathan only lit a few lights, enough to see where he was going. Dennis and Parker were living in this neighborhood when Jonathan and Dan had bought their house, over fifty years ago. It was just before they’d adopted Rick, feeling the need to provide their first child with more space than their downtown apartment afforded. That, too, had been big, but still just an apartment, and in the middle of the hustle and bustle of Chicago; they hadn’t wanted to raise a child in that environment. Instead, they’d bought this house with the large garden in the back, and the many rooms. Then Jeanette was born, and the house had been filled with the laughter of their two children, and later their children’s friends. It was always a happy place.
Even after Rick and Jeanette left home for college, the house was full of life. It was the center of their universe, and everyone always gravitated back to it, for holidays, for Sunday dinners, or just to visit. When the first grandkids were born, the sounds of fun and laughter once again filled the hallways, reminding Dan and Jonathan of their own children growing up. Yet these last seven days, though the house had been full, it had been eerily silent—even Louise and her baby brother Paul Jr. had been unusually subdued and quiet without their parents having to say a word.
Jonathan couldn’t recall what it was like to lose a grandparent. He’d barely known his mother’s parents, and after the fallout with Grandma Bates, he’d lost touch with his father’s parents. When they’d passed away—his grandfather first, his grandmother a few years later—Jonathan had not traveled out west to their funerals. When her husband died, Grandma Bates had already been in a nursing home and suffering from the advanced stages of Alzheimer’s. Given her views on her son and grandson, Jonathan felt it was best to pay the bills and keep his distance, leaving Parker to handle all the legal and practical details.
Not ever having had a close relationship with his own grandparents, Jonathan could only guess how his and Dan’s grandkids were feeling. He and Dan weren’t young, but they’d been young and healthy enough to play with the oldest of their grandchildren. The eldest—Dennis Jr., named after their close friend who’d passed away long before the boy had been born—was all grown up now, although he was still single, or so Jonathan assumed, but there was no rush. In many respects he envied him—for having his entire life ahead of him, for having been brought up by loving parents in a safe environment. Dennis Jr. was enjoying life to the fullest, probably sowing his oats whenever and wherever he could. Good for him.
Jonathan’s thoughts turned from Rick’s firstborn to Jeanette’s. Having taken her time after college, traveling the world with her then boyfriend Paul, Jeanette was twenty-six when she gave birth to Parker Jr., who was born just months after their lawyer and close friend of the same name had finally succumbed to his dementia.
All those people we’ve lost, all those friends, loved ones. Getting old really sucks. The memories troubled Jonathan, and yet, even as he felt his own life force slowly diminishing, for every day, for every friend he’d lost, he also realized that the life force of all living things on Earth remained constant. Parker was probably the best example. His life was expanding—college, dating, falling in love—like all of Jonathan’s grandchildren, on the cusp of life, while his children were at the zenith, and he was walking in the fall, watching the leaves turn, and life around him slowly wither and… No, not die. Jonathan knew, of course, that his individual life force would eventually fade away, but he was convinced that overall, life would continue to thrive.
He poured himself a glass of port wine and sat down at their large kitchen table made from old oak they had taken down in the forest near their cabin. Dan had made the table himself, wanting a piece of their rural life even in their city counterpart. It had, for decades, been the focal point of their home, the place where the kids would come to first after school, the place where most of their meals had been eaten.
While they had more money than they could ever have hoped to spend, not once had Jonathan and Dan succumbed to that lifestyle; they were never attracted to it. The money afforded them security, the occasional indulgence, and—yes—the house, which most would have called a mansion. Yet they had eaten in the kitchen, and only used the dining room for more formal occasions. Even their appearance fooled most people, both preferring to dress in jeans and a shirt or sweater—something comfortable—rather than stiff, formal suits and ties, which Jonathan loathed, as had Dan.
Other than by the media with regards to the foundation, they were rarely asked about their wealth. To anyone on the street, they were just an average couple, and if seen in town, few would even notice them. As the kids got older, the only looks they’d garner were due to the still unusual appearance of a gay family, or rainbow family, as they preferred to call themselves. Dan and Jonathan were part of that groundbreaking generation—the first to openly raise children, contributing to a change in people’s perceptions about gays.
These days, no one turned their heads when they saw two women or two men with children, but forty, fifty years ago, that was still a big thing. Jonathan smiled as he recalled the comments he used to get—usually from women—on how to properly raise a child. Most meant well, but there was an underlying current of superiority, that women knew better how to do this. Not anymore. Things have changed a lot since Rick was little.
And suddenly, Jonathan was overwhelmed by the memory of how they’d first learned about Rick, and how the boy had ended up with them.
* * * * *