A Real Family

Chapter 2-1

Chapter 2

Russell floated into his office the next morning. He was beaming at the prospect of his first date in three years. Over three, actually, and so what if the date was to have a piece of tubing the size of the pipes that clean out storm drains shoved up his backside. He imagined someone on a trolley, with a movie camera mounted on a cart, riding shotgun up his arse. Like in a motion picture car chase scene. None of that was as important as knowing Peter was his date. He walked into his office and his assistant glanced over to see the wide smile on his face.

“Excuse me, Mr. Bennett, I don’t mean to pry, but did you get lucky recently?” She looked at him and then broke into a fit of laughter. “Sorry Russell, I haven’t seen you look this relaxed, ever.”

“Ha, ha, ha, Denise, no, I didn’t do what you suggested. I feel good about things. That does happen sometimes, you know.”

“I know, and I also know that I haven’t seen you look this way for the past three years. I’m aware that you had a date—I mean, an appointment, with that hunky doctor Peter. If I didn’t know they don’t do that anymore, I’d guess he made a house call, or maybe a few. Spill it, boss. Don’t make me dig for answers.”

Russell loved his assistant. She was personable and they were a good match in the wit department. He also knew that she cared about him beyond the job, but he would never put himself out there and ask her for help with something as trivial as a colonoscopy. Especially since he now had Peter to help him.

He sat back, looked around his office, and wondered what his mother would have thought if she knew her baby was the lawyer she always dreamed he would be. He was successful, brilliant at law, but so very alone in life. When she died his father upped and left. Nobody heard from him since then—didn’t know if he was alive or not. The police wouldn’t investigate since he chose to leave. Russell was left to care for, and eventually bury, his older brother.

Russell lived in a modest apartment despite his respectable income. He donated liberally to LGBT groups, gave a fair bit of his time to similar projects, and put away enough to be comfortable in his lonely old age. He knew he was a hopeless flirt, at least as far as Peter was concerned. He couldn’t help himself. He felt so good around the man. He also respected the f*****g boundaries that some ethical asshole arbitrarily placed between them. He smiled. He could never stay mad at the guy, even in his imagination.

* * * *

His caseload was moderate, and he got through the discoveries that were scheduled. By Thursday, he was beginning to feel nervous about the upcoming procedure, and date, with his favourite sawbones. As if on cue, his phone rang. His heart was pounding from a mix of excitement and nerves.

“Hello, Peter, I’m ready. Shall I meet you at the clinic?” He didn’t want the guy to put himself out any more than needed.

“Hi, Russell. Nope, I need an address. I’ll be your chauffeur for the rest of the evening.”