worst.”
Russ picked up the flatware, then let it fall again. “You know what? I can’t do this right now.”
Glad he had shoes on, he headed straight out of the front door, ignoring whatever sounds his mother was making behind him. The wind was up, blowing a few high clouds across the sky. It tugged at his hair, sending it every which way as he stalked across the yard. He stumbled when the wind blew stinging tears into his eyes. Russ hadn’t realized he’d started crying.
This was not how Christmas was supposed to go. It was supposed to be happy. Full of joy and excitement and love. Not constantly justifying yourself to a woman who wouldn’t accept you.
“I am a goddamned adult!” Russ yelled at the racing clouds.
They ignored him, as did the wind tugging at his limbs.
He went the rest of the way to where the tree house had been. The oak was gone, victim of a rotten core, replaced now with a bench and a little gravel area and a fruit tree. He sat down on the bench, staring out over the pastureland to the foothills.
This was why he hated coming home. Because things had changed, but not really. He was still Doris’s little boy, still subject to her every whim and command. Heaven forbid he make a decision or parent his kids or love someone contrary to what she wanted, what she thought was right. It had been a joke, growing up: “If Mama ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.”
He wasn’t laughing anymore.
“Here.” Russ jumped when the sweater was extended toward him.
“Thanks” died in his throat when he looked up and found his father instead of Dave.
Randall stood behind the bench, gazing out over the hills. “You always did like it here.”
“Far enough away from the house I could pretend not to hear Mom when she called.” Russ shrugged the sweater on.
“Max played his music loud; you preferred physical distance.” Russ scooted over, and Randall sat down. “You okay, Russ?”
“No.” Russ shook his head. He knew he was hunkered down, arms crossed over his chest, gazing out over the fields instead of looking at his dad. “I try, Dad. I try to understand and be respectful of her beliefs so she can be part of the kids’ lives, but—I’m not getting anything back.” Russ clenched his jaw to try to keep them in, but the words tumbled too fast, now that he’d let them out. “I’m willing to meet her halfway, but she’s the fucking immovable object, waiting for me to give in and come to her. And I won’t . I will not compromise myself that much just to make her happy. I did that for way too long, and I was way too miserable to ever go back.”
Russ tucked his hands into his armpits and leaned into the corner of the bench.
Randall sat quietly, elbows on his knees, gazing out at the same hills. Were they seeing the same things?
“Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“How do you feel about this? About me and David and the kids?”
Randall rubbed his hands together, examining the scars and calluses. “Not gonna lie, Russ. I do wish you were straight.”
Russ nodded.
“But David is a good man, what little I’ve seen. And he makes you happy. That’s all I ever wanted for you, Russ, was for you to be happy. And you weren’t. For so long, like you said. And I didn’t know why. And now—it’s good to see you smile.”
Russ smiled, though he didn’t turn his head toward his father.
“And you’re a good dad, Russ.” He did turn then, searching his father’s face. “Austin’s got to be a challenge, even more than Max was, but—you do so great with them. They clearly love you, and I can see how much you love them.”
“Thanks. And I meant to say thank you the other day.”
“For?”
“For how you greeted David. Warmly. That means a lot to me.”
Randall pulled Russ’s head in for a brusque kiss. “Cold out.”
“Yeah. Wind’s picking up.”
“Should probably head back inside.”
Russ sighed, sinking lower on the bench. “Probably.”
Neither of them moved. Randall finally
Russ picked up the flatware, then let it fall again. “You know what? I can’t do this right now.”
Glad he had shoes on, he headed straight out of the front door, ignoring whatever sounds his mother was making behind him. The wind was up, blowing a few high clouds across the sky. It tugged at his hair, sending it every which way as he stalked across the yard. He stumbled when the wind blew stinging tears into his eyes. Russ hadn’t realized he’d started crying.
This was not how Christmas was supposed to go. It was supposed to be happy. Full of joy and excitement and love. Not constantly justifying yourself to a woman who wouldn’t accept you.
“I am a goddamned adult!” Russ yelled at the racing clouds.
They ignored him, as did the wind tugging at his limbs.
He went the rest of the way to where the tree house had been. The oak was gone, victim of a rotten core, replaced now with a bench and a little gravel area and a fruit tree. He sat down on the bench, staring out over the pastureland to the foothills.
This was why he hated coming home. Because things had changed, but not really. He was still Doris’s little boy, still subject to her every whim and command. Heaven forbid he make a decision or parent his kids or love someone contrary to what she wanted, what she thought was right. It had been a joke, growing up: “If Mama ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.”
He wasn’t laughing anymore.
“Here.” Russ jumped when the sweater was extended toward him.
“Thanks” died in his throat when he looked up and found his father instead of Dave.
Randall stood behind the bench, gazing out over the hills. “You always did like it here.”
“Far enough away from the house I could pretend not to hear Mom when she called.” Russ shrugged the sweater on.
“Max played his music loud; you preferred physical distance.” Russ scooted over, and Randall sat down. “You okay, Russ?”
“No.” Russ shook his head. He knew he was hunkered down, arms crossed over his chest, gazing out over the fields instead of looking at his dad. “I try, Dad. I try to understand and be respectful of her beliefs so she can be part of the kids’ lives, but—I’m not getting anything back.” Russ clenched his jaw to try to keep them in, but the words tumbled too fast, now that he’d let them out. “I’m willing to meet her halfway, but she’s the fucking immovable object, waiting for me to give in and come to her. And I won’t . I will not compromise myself that much just to make her happy. I did that for way too long, and I was way too miserable to ever go back.”
Russ tucked his hands into his armpits and leaned into the corner of the bench.
Randall sat quietly, elbows on his knees, gazing out at the same hills. Were they seeing the same things?
“Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“How do you feel about this? About me and David and the kids?”
Randall rubbed his hands together, examining the scars and calluses. “Not gonna lie, Russ. I do wish you were straight.”
Russ nodded.
“But David is a good man, what little I’ve seen. And he makes you happy. That’s all I ever wanted for you, Russ, was for you to be happy. And you weren’t. For so long, like you said. And I didn’t know why. And now—it’s good to see you smile.”
Russ smiled, though he didn’t turn his head toward his father.
“And you’re a good dad, Russ.” He did turn then, searching his father’s face. “Austin’s got to be a challenge, even more than Max was, but—you do so great with them. They clearly love you, and I can see how much you love them.”
“Thanks. And I meant to say thank you the other day.”
“For?”
“For how you greeted David. Warmly. That means a lot to me.”
Randall pulled Russ’s head in for a brusque kiss. “Cold out.”
“Yeah. Wind’s picking up.”
“Should probably head back inside.”
Russ sighed, sinking lower on the bench. “Probably.”
Neither of them moved. Randall finally
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