In the name of the Father

Chapter 6 - Cold hearts and warm hands

Chapter 6 – Cold hearts and warm hands

“Jake … oh Jake… I’ve been meaning to tell you how I felt that morning when you tried to kiss me. I’m sorry for running. You scared me. I wasn’t sure if it was right. I panicked, Jake! Your father … I thought of him then and the love he had for me. I can’t do this, Jake. I just … no, please stop, let go of me!”

“Ah, Gray … oh God. Please, let’s just finish this. I can’t stop now. I won’t tell daddy, don’t worry. Come on, give it to me, baby. Please … don’t tease me like this. I can’t pull out now.”

“Jake, I can’t … oh!!”

I woke up with a jolt – my heart racing, blood roaring in my ears, and skin damped and flushed all over. My eyes moved around to search and gather any semblance I have of consciousness. I bolted upright and steeled as I felt something. What the…? My shirt … the front was … sticky.

‘Damn you, Gray Staudt’ was the quiet expletive that rustled my mind. I thought of uttering its French equivalent but decided not to as I saw the cause of my wet dream materialize at the door.

“Hey Jake,” he gave the warmest of smiles, bathing me in its healing and invigorating afterglow.

I shuffled around with the sheets to try and cover my indecency, my face several shades of mortified embarrassment, “Hey ah, I um … I was just … f**k. Good morning, Gray,” I sighed.

He sniggered, quite mischievous as matter of fact, in expense of my disheveled state. The childish action stretched that beautiful mouth of his into a modest smile. All I wanted to do at that moment was to lunge forward and pull him into my arms, curl up and whisper sweet nothings into his ears, and then tickle him to make us both laugh till we could no longer breathe. Damn you Gray Staudt and that killer smile of yours. Damn you for being French. Damn you for being with my father. Damn you for being so nice to me. And damn you for doing me like this.

His modest lips quirked slightly upwards as if I amused him. He then c****d his head faintly to the side and craned his neck towards the direction of the hallway, “I’ve breakfast for you. Come when you’re ready,” he offered kindly, and I swore for the life of me that I understood the word ‘come’ rather differently.

He stepped back and disappeared behind the door. The sound of his footsteps quieting away brought me relief as I consciously stood and examined myself in the mirror. I stared at a towering man wearing a soiled white shirt and tight boxer briefs. I breathed a long sigh of relief and thought ‘Jake Grimaldi, it’s either you’re still growing at twenty-five, or absolutely and undeniably turned on’.

It was mid-January. Two weeks from when the rumors blew out of proportion. Close to three months when Gray and dad met in France. Painfully close to four minutes when I zipped my erection between the zippers of my pants as I hurried to clothe myself this morning, not wanting to be late for Gray’s breakfast.

I strode limping towards the smaller kitchen. Mornings were usually spent here because dad and I didn’t see any reason to feast on food over the grand dinner table, especially when all that was on the menu were the usual breakfast sausages and waffles. But ever since Gray came into our life, the typical breakfast became more of a gastronomic experience for he would come up with all these variations of healthy breakfast ideas, each a different meal for every morning of every day. Oh God, bless this man.

I awkwardly took my usual seat opposite Gray in the kitchenette. I wanted to crawl into a fetal position to somehow ease the feeling of pain in my groin, but then I thought it wouldn’t look good. The discomfort was nothing compared to the jealousy I felt as he and father cozied up to one another. I shook the unbidden emotion and instead, focused on the food that was served before me. With untamed voracity I wolfed down my smoked salmon dish. I relished the saline yet mild taste of a texture so velvety smooth that it melted gloriously in my mouth. The fish was delicious and utterly divine.

Gray cleared his throat as if suggesting for my father to stop devouring his neck in front me, because he clearly wasn’t part of the dish that was served this morning. My perfunctory reaction to their display of affection would be to wince, cuss, and storm out with a resounding clatter on my food plate, but this time I didn’t. Instead, I just locked eyes with Gray as he assessed me with what looked like careful deliberation. Was he teasing me? What was going through his mind? Was he thinking about that morning when I tried to kiss him? Or was he finally becoming more comfortable in my presence? Whatever. I didn’t like it for I wasn’t the one kissing his neck.

He lightly tapped on dad’s chest with those long beautiful fingers of his as if prodding the shameless man to curb his appetite and return to his senses. Father was obligatory and resumed feasting on his meal of fresh fruits and grilled vegetables. Gray wiped his mouth with a cloth then gave me a look that solicited warmth and approval, “Jake, your father and I…” he stopped and swallowed.

At that moment something gut-deep twisted and recoiled within me. All the hair from my neck going up crawled and stood to attention. I became hyperaware. Scenarios raced through my mind in hyper speed. Thoughts of gay marriage, settling down, adoption, dad’s early retirement, and relocation to another country, all the possible ways this could go gave me whiplash. The feeling dropped to the pit of my stomach, balling over into a clump of paranoia, dread, and anxiety.

My fists balled tightly, nails biting into the skin of my palms as I awaited the news that would follow. What I was feeling was beyond me. I did not expect the emotions I was having. They were strong and deeply personal. Gray looked from dad to me and I knew that whatever he was about to say was going to be big. It felt like a pregnant pause as he and dad searched in each other’s eyes. I hoped that whatever plan they had included me. I just wasn’t ready to let Gray go.

Jake looked and acted weird. It wasn’t like I was going to announce a pregnancy. I couldn’t help the arch of my brows as I appraised the constipated look on his face. What was he thinking?

What he did to me a week ago was something I regarded with reduced importance. It was probably just a response to libido. Oh no, could it be that he still had it in mind? I hoped not, because I had no plans of reciprocating. As handsome as Jake was, my heart didn’t beat for him.

He looked like he wasn’t breathing so I immediately cleared my throat and continued with what I was supposed to say, “Your father and I thought of going on a vacation,” I announced without pause this time.

“Oh…” Jake’s brows shot up and his mouth formed into a small O. Surprised much? What was up with him?

Anyway I continued, “Jeanne didn’t have anything in mind so I searched for good places to go to at this time of year. Apparently we wouldn’t have to go far. Your father doesn’t know this,” I looked at Jeanne to see anticipation brimming in those sultry blue eyes of his, clearly he was excited to know my choice destination as much as I was ecstatic to disclosing its location, “So this is a surprise to him as it is to you,” I held his hand matrimonially then looked at Jake, “How does Canyons Resort in Park City Utah sound, huh? We can go skiing, and if you want you could take your girlfriend to the Sundance Film Festival,” I expressed with delight and enthusiasm.

I searched Jeanne’s eyes for approval and he gave a curt and satisfied nod. It looked like he didn’t give it much thought but I knew that he felt it to be the right decision as he squeezed my hand. I knew it was the perfect getaway for he liked cold weather. Jake did too. I didn’t. It felt like a good compromise to compromise myself. The nods of approval from father and son allowed me to breathe a sigh of triumph and relief. Finally, we were vacationing as a family.

I talked about the itinerary and what awaited us at Canyons Resort. One would think it funny to see a French native give a lecture of an All-American place to home-grown Americans, but they appeared to engage my every word and suggestion as if it was their first time to hear of the sanctuary. I knew it wasn’t but they were kind enough to humor me. It almost looked too easy. Anything I suggested seemed like a bright idea to them, but then I gave myself credit for it really would be fun to visit Utah at this time of year. Jake nodded at my every word, overzealously I might add. He was acting strange, like he couldn’t wait for us to get to Utah. He was adorable.

“The greatest snow on earth…” Jake announced.

“A park city home away from home,” Jeanne added.

“This is going to be so cold,” I shivered at the thought.

“Wow, and I thought I was doing great up there. It only took one slip for me to crash and burn. Nice … real nice,” I huffed with a puff of cool air as Gray and Jake laughed gregariously at my amateur tumble down the slippery slopes.

Slowly but surely we were becoming a family. Spending half my life with Lucille never got me this close to finding a clear definition for it. For the first time in my life I felt like a father to my son, and a loving husband … to Gray Staudt.

Washed with pride and a patronizing glow, Jake decided to revel in my poor display of athleticism and suggested something he knew I wouldn’t be able to do, “Hey pops, what about a view from up there at the gondola, huh? It might give you a bird’s-eye-view of what people looked like tumbling down the slopes, he-he,” he remarked sarcastically, damn snooty bastard.

“Nah, you take Gray. And don’t let him fall, or I will seriously hurt you,” I darted menacingly at my son, threatening him with my ski poles.

“Aye aye, Cap’n Grimaldi!” He gave a mock salute. It sent Gray into a cacophony of laughter.

I took a laughing Gray under my arms then ruffled his hair with the back of my knuckles. It was these uninhibited, genuine moments that I treasured most out of life – the fun, the adventure, these honest bouts of unrestrained laughter. It took a hell of a long time for me to reach this paradise I thought as I handed Gray over to my son. I murmured the words ‘be careful’ to which Gray responded with a quiet ‘I love you’. I put my cold hands together to pray for love and devotion. I prayed that my crooked virtues could survive this morally upright and straight world. All I ever wanted was to be truly happy. I was and I wanted it to last. And as Gray and Jake made their way up the slopes to where the starting line was for the boarding port, I knew what the clear choice was between duty for country and love for another man. My heart knew it so.

I knew something was wrong. Gray was shaking so badly that it scared me almost, “Are you okay?” I solicited with alarm for I didn’t want him hyperventilating this high up above ground.

“It’s t-too high,” his tiny voice shook which made my protective instincts gear into overdrive.

I draped my arms around him in a coiled embrace, rubbing against him to warm him up and hopefully slow his speeding heart, “Hush … too high for you? Don’t worry, I’m here…” I cooed into his ear which made him bristle at the feel. He was uncertain whether to respond or not.

“H-how come you didn’t bring your girlfriend?” he asked and it almost felt like it was his diversion from wanting to fall in my arms.

I thought for a second that sometimes we needed to tell a lie in order to sell the truth, “I broke up with her a month ago,” I declared blandly.

“Oh,” the one syllable his brief response.

He sneaked a peek down below us then choked a squeal which I found cute and immensely adorable. I didn’t know if there really was a God watching, but I thanked him anyway for allowing me this tender moment with Gray in my arms. Gray surely felt like mine as I was his.

“Jake, p-please hold me and d-don’t let go, okay?” he spoke, visibly shaken. I felt like a hero.

My heart tugged and squeezed into a kind of pain that was amicable. Gone were the days when I used to palpitate at the sight of Gray. The ache blossomed into a blissful feeling that I found comforting. I felt dangerously close to him. I no longer felt lust. I was starting to develop emotions that I knew were going to get me into trouble. I was falling for him. This was love.

“Gray, will you take my hand and promise not to let go,” I professed my feelings without having to say those three words. My heart was ready to implode in my chest as I awaited his response.

He was hesitant, yet he surrendered to the feeling and trusted me at last. I felt my heart animate against the cold. At that moment I knew there was no cold heart when met with warm hands.