Ghost Boyfriend Anthology.

#2 - Spun Sugar

“We got loads of these early this morning,” Caleb dumped the mail stack, fluttery white envelopes on the table and turned to clerk. “The boss expects you to see to and maybe get around them, if that's even possible. How's your book coming along?”

“Terrible,” Jamie remarked, resting his head on his left arm. “I barely made it through a few lines. I intend to stay up in here, maybe leave a little before eight.”

“That's late,”

“It's what I love and I'm supposed to make out time for it. I'm turning it in to Bill next week. Hope for it to be in shelves by December.”

Noting the shadows beneath Jamie's eyes and knowing how well the clerk deserved rest, Caleb decided not to push it. “Well, good luck to whatever you come up with. I'll sure love to read your book one day.” sliding out, he shut the door.

The day progressed faster. Writhing in his swivel seat and suffocating tie, Jamie got more caught up in his duties to do the actual writing. He needed to take things slowly if he ever hoped to make it to the book launch with his mind intact.

At seven PM, he dropped the window blinds, checking out of the office right after waving goodbye to the chirpy receptionist. “Ta-ta! Get some rest tonight love!!” Caleb squealed.

Pushing his dark curls back behind the tip of his ear, Jamie took long strides through the lot and into his little sedan. Home was just around the corner leading to the university campus which unbelievably seemed bustling tonight. Jamie had heard of stories which had been weaved around how Waterford seemed quiet and lonely in the 80s. Now, the determined hands of modernization knocked at it's door and how proudly it responded, the place surrounding it was trendy, boutiques, sweet-shops and antique stores springing up overnight. A miraculous transformation. He guided the car into the driveway, halting beside Graham's rusty old truck. Getting out, he navigated past the well-cut lawn, digging through his pockets for the keys. He was due to pick up Angel from the toddler academy, Junior from his crotchet class and Nickel from the writer's club downtown. His eldest son objected strongly to this but Jamie didn't want to hear any of it, stating the age long truth about him making the rules.

Luckily, Graham kept shut on this one after Jamie threatened to deny him s*x for a week.

Wandering into the heat of the kitchen, he pulled back the refrigerator door, popping a soda can open and gulping it all down his throat. The chill trickled, reviving him of his lost energy. He took out Summer Whispers; the book he was writing, based on the strain between a gay couple and how bad it was for them to remain apart. It summed up how distant he and Graham was these days and Jamie felt he needed to write something other than the lovey-dovey cozy moments between two married counterparts. Placing it on the dining table, he turned around to bump into a hard solid chest.

Oh no.

He faltered back from the contact, his husband's large hands moving up his sides to hold him steady. Graham's bright green eyes crinkled down at him, before they naturally found their way down to his lips. Jamie shut his eyes, allowing the current Graham's stare always brought burn through him. He'd missed him and he wasn't gonna lie about it.

“You're home early,”

“I tried to stay sane for I have to go along with what you say,”

“After you left, I stayed home.” Graham pressed a kiss to his forehead, sinking down to the sofa with Jamie too. The duo kept mute for a few minutes of reflective silence. “I thought about us and our kids. We're not moving,”

As though a heavy truckload had been lifted off his chest, Jamie sighed, venturing to plant a lopsided kiss at the side of Graham's lips. The issue had been up for longer than necessary and Jamie regretted the moments they argued in front of his kids, almost fighting it too. They'd gone on without speaking to each other for a few days which led Jamie to realize how lousy of him to think he could survive even without Graham's shadow.

“I'm happy with whatever you suggest, the budget and expenses cost for moving won't be anything funny,” Sitting upright, Jamie retrieved his cell from his pocket, forehead strewn to lines as he squinted at the notification.

“s**t! I forgot about Nickel!” he shrieked, bounding up the stairs to take off his coat and stuff his feet into more comfortable shoes. He raced madly outside, into the car and finally, downtown. Nickel was becoming accustomed to trekking with his pals till it was late and although he was old enough to do so, Jamie couldn't bring himself to let him out of his sight.

He adored Nickel. In all his children, the boy won his heart with his distinctive personality, singing capability and his magical touch with animals... these qualities touched Jamie so much he found himself philosophizing instead of scolding the two others.

Pulling up next to the Club's calligraphy, he turned off the ignition and plopped his head back. Nickel appeared almost immediately, coming down the stairs ever so slowly. Only that, he did not come down alone.

Behind him, a gray-skirts-and-white-shirts-with-curt-blonde-curls woman helped him walk, pushing him a little as they made their way to the car. From a close range, Jamie gasped at the patches of red stains, dust and bruises his son embodied. He blinked twice to make sure of what was in front of him.

“Hey Dad,” Nickel smiled through his pain, letting himself in through the back door Jamie managed to fling open.

“Are you alright? Oh my goodness what happened?” the clerk directed his gaze and question to the puffy teacher who just stood by and watched. “What the hell did you do to my son?”

Voice thick, the lady shivered.

“He'll be fine sir, he just got into a bit of trouble with the other kids and... you know the rest,”

“On what grounds? My son can't go home with me, looking like a petty thief beaten by the public.” Jamie fumed, stepping out. “If I have to sue this whole building, I'll sure as hell do it! Who did this to him?”

“Sir, it's a writing club filled with horny, aggressive teenagers and we're not to be held responsible for any teenage fights. It's simply  common around here, your son isn't the first to get riled up like this.”

Deflated, Jamie flared. “Common? Are you trying to say that it's a regular thing for a kid to be bullied at? In this god-forsaking club?!”

The lady squirmed. “Sir, that's how — ”

“Here's your bill,” the clerk rooted around in his wallet for cash. “I recall not paying for last month so here's what we owe. If it's a normal thing for my son to get bullied and the management has nothing to say or do about it, there's no point in coming here anymore. This place could pass off as a delinquent training center.”

His voice grew shrill, teeth gritted to control his rage. He'd need it for later. Yes, while grounding Nickel.

Hitting the roads, silence served as a worthy company to both father and son. Nickel kept his attention out the window while Jamie preferred listening to the slow, jazz song streaming out of the car stereo. It was a good thing Junior's crotchet school was located close to the toddler academy, Jamie wanted nothing more than to go home and lie down with his frustration, knowing it would evaporate whenever he awoke.

Terse with humiliation and bustling with indignation, the clerk was so annoyed and bitter that for the first time since Nickel turned twelve he contemplated scolding him.

“I'm sorry,” the kid whispered audibly enough.

“How long has this been going on?”

A pause. “Couple of weeks now, I always had the bruises concealed.”

“I see,”

“Are you gonna tell Dad? Am I gonna stop going there?”

“I just found out that your life is being threatened and you're hoping your father won't know? Of course I'd tell him, he needs to know how early his eldest son wishes to die.”

“It was not a big fight. Just a minor brawl with the kids down the street. No big deal there,”

“Mister, fighting is a crime. A capital offense. What if you boys had been caught and whisked off in a van? I'd have to watch you go to Juvie. Listen, whatever your Dad and I decide in this, you'd better respect it.”

When he pulled over by the roadside opposite the crotchet workshop, Junior crossed the circular lawn to meet them, Angel hot on his heels. Large beads of sweat plastered on their foreheads convinced Jamie that they had been racing, hence the cause of the stench which filled the car as they got in.

“Ew, you guys stink,” Nickel exclaimed, clumping his nose together with his thumb and index finger. Junior stuck out a tongue at him. “Took you guys long enough. We were afraid you'd never show up,”

“Sorry kiddos, I had to swing by to pick up your battered older brother who isn't man enough to handle himself!”

“Dad!” Nickel pouted.

“Geez, you look like a ripped doodle,” Angel spoke up for the first time, her small childhood frame betraying a thick grave voice, Graham's favorite. “Who did you fight with?”

“A couple of assholes,” Nickel shifted his attention back out the window. “Fine dickheads.”

“Nick, mind your language. She's a minor.” Jamie chided, halting when the traffic lights overhead shone red.

“I wish to go to jail,” Angel spoke softly after a few moments of peace. All eyes turned to her. “Ara says it made her Dad smarter and he's now counting a couple of dollars in Spain. I wanna be smart too.”

Shocked, Jamie shushed her. “Now honey, jail isn't a good — ”

“Hey! You movin that old laundry or what?” Drivers blared their horns and shouted from behind. Jamie revved the car and they got moving again.

At home, the boys went up to their rooms with Nickel wincing halfway up the stairs, equally limping too. Angel sat back in the living room, switching on the telly to some cartoon programme.

“Honey, you need to go freshen up and head down for lunch.”

“I'm not hungry, I ate my food minutes ago with Junior watching me. It wasn't thrown away, nor did I give it to someone else.”

“Dad needs a few minutes to sort out himself too. Be a good girl and go to your room and I promise to make a pie.”

She brightened. “Really? Whoops!”

The landline rang as Jamie watched her skedaddle away. “Hey dear, where are you?”

“At work,” Graham replied briskly, on the verge of breakdown. “An emergency came up and now we need to tidy things at the La Par site. How are the kids doing?”

“Fine. Except that your eldest son isn't a man.”

“We can at least say he took that quality from you.”

“Are you kidding me? He's of your blood. How can you say such a thing?” he moved toward the stairs to see if the kids were listening and finding them not, he whispered. “I found out today that he's being bullied at the club.”

Graham expelled a sigh just before the full blast of a whistle, following the words ‘Break's f*****g over! Get back to work, you scumbags!’

He hesitated. “I have to go now honey, I'll see that we discuss this in greater detail when I get back. Take care of them, I love you.” he hung up.

“I love you too,”

Supper dragged on for an eternity, with Nickel squirming on his seat, awaiting his sanction if any, Jamie pretending he wasn't even sitting too close to notice his uneasiness. Responsibility had always been his strong force but these were things he believed Nickel deserved.

The beatings, oncoming punishment, everything. That would make him quicker on his feet. Only Angel and Junior talked at length about the race at school tomorrow, how the new Hopkins plaza sold cash and party tickets and how great the food was, unaware of the tension which hung on the air like a blanket.