“I’m not a drag queen, Gran.”
“I know that, but isn’t he part of your audience?”
“Gran!” Scout cries, as she leads us into the tiny house.
“I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with that, Bradley Scout!” She leaves us in a small living room with plastic on the backs of the furniture. “I just don’t like you taking your clothes off for money. If you were my granddaughter, I’d say the same thing.”
The sound of glassware clinking comes from the kitchen, and JR is scanning the place. He goes to a short hall and looks down it.
“The good Lord makes us the way he makes us, and it’s up to us to do what we will with the talents we’re given.” She returns to the room carrying a tray with four tall glasses of iced tea on it.
“I’m not gay, Gran. I thought I was taking headshots, and things got twisted.”
She straightens, making a disappointed face. “Now, Bradley Scout. I might be old, but I know a thing or two. You don’t take your clothes off for a headshot.”
“GA?” John slides his hand onto her arm. “I really want to see Jesse. Is he here?”
“Oh…” The old lady’s eyes warm, and she smiles at him. “He is just the most adorable thing. It’s like having you all over again.”
“Can I see him?”
“Well, of course you can!” She hands her eldest grandson a glass of tea. “You have to wait for him to get home from kindergarten.”
“He’s at school?” My eyes go wide. “And he lives with you?”
“Oh, don’t you fret dear. You know those St. Johns have always been a bit…” She sits on the couch, raising her eyebrows and looking away, which I take to mean snotty, bitchy, pretentious. I couldn’t agree more. “But his mamma has him in this very small group of kids. Learning pods, they’re calling it. It’s supposed to limit their exposure, but it might end up being better than regular school.”
“When does he get home?” JR sets his glass of tea on the tray.
“What time is it?” She looks up at the clock, and I hear a car pulling up out front.
A sharp honk of a horn, and a young woman’s voice calls.
“That’s Trudy now… You remember Trudy Barnett? She picks the kids up after school…”
JR’s grandmother is still speaking as the door opens, and the cutest little boy-voice shouts into the room. “Hey, Gran! I’m home!”
My eyes flicker to JR, and his brow is raised. His lips are parted, and when I see the mist in his eyes, mine fill with tears.
Jr
When I was in that fucking cell, as much as I hate to admit it, there were times I wondered if I’d been a bad husband. Maybe I was too gruff or not sensitive to Becky’s needs or whatever women say.
When she walked out on that porch looking as old as her mother and equally as bitchy, I almost thanked her. It was the closure I’d needed for fifteen months.
My dad was always preoccupied with the St. Johns and the stuff they had, the trips they took, and what they were doing…
What did Hope call it? Fetishizing wealth?
I couldn’t have cared less.
When she turned up pregnant during my last year of college, I didn’t care what those people said about her trying to hold onto me or whatever, and it didn’t matter if it was a boy or a girl. I just wanted to be a dad.
Now I’m standing in my grandmother’s living room, and my heart is beating out of my chest.
Jesse James Dunne runs in, looking just like my brother always did.
His hair is darker blond now, but his eyes are clear as the blue sky. His voice is little-boy cute. It’ll drop once he hits puberty and has to deal with all that shit, but right now, he’s still a boy.
He’s innocent and sweet, and I wonder if he’s still into football.
It’s been eighteen months, and I want to scoop him up in my arms. I want to hug him close to me and smell his hair.
I want to touch his face like I did when he was a baby and tell him all the cool things we’re going to do when he gets bigger.
Now he’s a lot bigger.
And I don’t want him to be afraid of me…
“Jesse, there’s somebody here to see you.” GA stands, looking from him to me.
I’m not sure if I should go to him or stay where I am or bend down… None of it matters.
“DADDY!” He shouts so loud, my heart skips.
Like a streak of light, he runs across the room, and I drop to my knees.
I catch him under the arms and lift him to me, holding his small body tight, blinking away the heat in my eyes.
He feels the same but bigger. He feels like my son. He’s sturdy and strong, and he smells like he’s been playing in the grass and having fun.
“Jesse.” My voice cracks.
So many emotions flood my chest, I’m doing good to hold on, and that’s just what I do. I hold onto my little man.
“I made this when I was in Latin class.”
“Latin in Kindergarten?” I look to my grandma, and she just shrugs. “That’s amazing, J.”
“Did you know the gladiators spoke Latin? Mr. Perkins told us that. He even has a real gladiator shield. He let us touch it. Then he showed us how you use it to protect yourself if somebody was coming at you with a knife.”
“Lord have mercy, Jesse, take a breath!” GA puts a plate in front of my son with a cookie and a glass of milk. “You’re going to hyperventilate.”
“It’s okay.” I smile up at her. “I want to hear it all.”
I’ve missed so much. I want to hear everything he wants to tell me. My hand is on his little back where he stands in front of me at the coffee table showing me all his school work, and every few minutes, I lean forward to kiss the back of his head.
“Look what I got for my birthday!” He takes off running to the back of the house, and my grandma shakes her head.
“He spends the whole day running. He has so much energy.” Then she chuckles. “But it’s just the one. Not like the two of you.”
“You loved it.” Scout pushes off the wall where he’s been leaning with his arms crossed. “You were always on the front row decked out in all our team colors.”
“I was also fifteen years younger!”
“Does somebody need another hug?” My brother starts towards her, and she lets out a little holler.
“Bradley Scout! Don’t you pick me up again. You’ll break my back!”
“Check it out, Dad!” Jesse runs in the room carrying a football as big as him. “Poppy got it for me. He said it’s regulation size!”
I choose to ignore the bitterness in my throat at the mention of my father. Instead I focus on this little guy between my legs with one arm around my neck doing his best to hold an adult-sized football under his arm.
“Want to play with me, Dad?”
“Heck, yeah, I do.” Scooping him up, we start for the door, where Hope hasn’t moved.
She’s watching us, and her eyes are shining. When they meet mine, my chest tightens, and I want to put my arm around her and pull her into this twosome. A sensation deep in my bones says this would be right. Would she change her life for this mess I’m facing?