Commitment Issues (25 page)

"What are
they
doing here?” It was Mrs. Nelson from the other side of the house, and she made the word “they” sound like the boys were incarnations of the devil. She had spotted Charlie and Ethan because the living room and dining room were one big area, separated by an archway.

"Sorry,” Katariina told the boys as she walked up.

"She hasn't mellowed much,” Charlie said.

"You guys want something to drink? We have enough food for a brigade or two."

"No,” Charlie said. “We gotta be going."

"Softball?” Wyatt asked.

"Yeah, I'm still playing softball,” Charlie laughed. “Ethan plays too."

"I play it, but I'm not very good,” Ethan said with a smile. “E for effort is all I hope for."

"I'm sure you're better than me,” Wyatt said with a grin. “I apologize for my mother's outburst."

"No worries, man. Charlie warned me that Mrs. Nelson has ‘issues'."

Ethan gave Wyatt a hug and kiss. He shook my hand at first but then leaned in for a short hug. Charlie kissed me on the cheek, and they left.

"You want something to eat or drink?” I asked Wyatt.

"No, thanks, babe. I'm good."

"Wyatt?” It was Toomas.

"Family meeting,” Katariina said as she walked into the living room. All three of Mrs. Nelson's children followed the widow through a double-hinged swing door into the kitchen. Debbie walked into the living room and did a quick inventory of her kids. Mason was playing a hand-held video game. The older daughter was reading, and the youngest was asleep on the sofa.

"Drama,” Debbie whispered.

"Does it happen much?"

"Used to,” she said quietly. “When it was obvious that Mason was gay, she calmed down quite a bit. She used to talk about Wyatt when he wasn't here to defend himself. Mr. Nelson tried to keep her in line, and that worked for the most part. Now he's gone, so the kids have to step in."

"I understand."

"Maybe, but you and Wyatt can take care of yourselves. You're big boys, but she is not going to rail against my son. Mason's a good boy. Toomy knows that I'll take the kids and leave this family and never come back here. I love Toomy, but my kids come first. He's back there explaining that to his mother."

"I wish my mother had stood up for me like you,” I said. “She was okay, I guess. She knew that I did better with boys than girls, and she wouldn't even let me try dating girls. She never protected me like you and Toomas have stood up for Mason. You're phenomenal parents, Debbie. I'm proud to know you."

"I'll stick up for you too,” Debbie said. “You're my brother-in-law."

I leaned in to touch her shoulder.

"Wait,” she said, “are you guys married or just living in sin?"

"Living in sin."

"Estonia marries gay men, you know."

"I've already gotten that speech from Wyatt."

"I think you ought to make an honest man out of Wyatt and have a big church wedding in Estonia. It'll be a great excuse for us all to go over for a visit of our cousins and uncles. My folks are Estonian just like the Nelsons."

"Mrs. Nelson too?"

"The monster-in-law? No, she's an authentic American mutt with no particular pedigree. Scotch-Irish, I think, with some Swedish."

"The Nelsons seem to have some kind of gay gene going on,” I said.

"Oh, you have no idea,” Debbie laughed. “I think Toomas is the only straight guy of his generation."

"Katariina?"

"Not my place to say,” she whispered, “but yeah. Katariina's a lesbian. I think she is, but the subject never came up. It's just me guessing. It's too early to tell about Anna and Cathy. They're so young, but it wouldn't surprise me. I used to tease Toomy that he needed to get counseling because he didn't seem to fit in the Nelson family."

"I like your kids."

"Thanks, yeah, me too,” she said. “I hope one of the girls has a family. I want grandkids."

"It's a little early to think about grandchildren, isn't it?"

"You're not a parent, are you? No, I guess you wouldn't be. Sorry. I have Mason and the girls already through college and supporting Toomy and me. There are grandkids that go home when the playing is done."

"Maybe a Nobel Prize or something?"

"Sure, why not? There's good prize money that comes with that, but having one lawyer and one doctor would be better."

"You guys live in Madison?” I asked.

"Nearby,” she said. “We're suburban, but Toomy didn't want to move too far. You never heard of the town, I'm sure. It's called Baraboo."

"Ummm, northwest of town, population of about ten thousand."

"You carry a lot of knowledge inside that skull, man."

"Not really, I'm a broadcaster and—"

"That's where I know your voice,” Debbie said. “Beer commercials?"

"Nothing but the best beer, of course,” I chuckled.

"Wow, you're famous."

"Not really, but my regular job is doing news. I have to record Monday's show on Sunday. The network could get a stand-in for every day except Monday, but Monday is Mr. Nelson's funeral."

"Sean Roberts, oh wow. Yeah. I hear you around lunch time some days."

"That's me."

"My brother-in-law, wow."

"It isn't all that big of a—"

"Could we make it a family thing at the radio station? I know the kids would absolutely love to watch you, if they won't be in the way."

"I don't know the facilities, but I'm sure they'll be fine. Can they stay quiet for fifteen minutes?"

"I'll make them an offer they can't refuse."

"Threaten them with grandmother's day care?"

"I like the way you think, bro."

"Could you just hold me?” Wyatt asked as we got ready for bed.

"Absolutely,” I said. We were nude and in the bed of our hotel room. I was always hard when we're nude together, but this time there was nothing. We held each other, skin-to-skin, and he felt so wonderful. Somehow it wasn't sexual. He wanted to touch but not kiss. He wanted me to hold him and hug him as he cried. It was awesome to share the bad times with my lover. It wasn't “fun,” but it was awesome that we could be together as a unit as Wyatt worked through the grief of his father's death. I didn't want to make the tears go away because they came so naturally, but I wanted to be available to Wyatt for whatever he needed. At the hotel, he just needed to be held. He was using me for support and comfort, and that made me feel so wonderful. He wanted me when things were good and when they were bad.

"I wish you could have met Daddy,” he said softly. “He was the opposite of Mother in so many ways."

When he started crying again, I just moved as close to him as I could. “I love you,” I whispered. “I'm here for you, whatever you need."

"Thanks. I love you too. And I'm here for you too. I wish that I'd said all that to Daddy while he was alive."

"Parents are smarter than we think,” I said. “He probably knew."

"You think so?"

"I think he knew that your mother was hard to be around, and that he understood why you were out of state. Even if he didn't love you, he would have known that. Everybody says he loved you, so I just know that he understood. He probably agreed with you."

Wyatt nodded and cried. I held him against my chest until I went to sleep.

The next morning I awoke to Wyatt's mouth around my dick. It was hard, and he was working me gently. I started to stop him, but he was doing what he wanted to be doing. In just a few minutes I was able to give him what he wanted. He swallowed and wiped his lips.

"Thanks,” he said. “I love you."

I pulled him back up to me, and we held each other.

There was some tapping at the bedroom door. It had to be the protection.

"Thirty minutes,” came a voice. “We gotta leave in thirty."

"We'll be there,” I hollered. “Thanks."

"I got my tests back,” Wyatt said. “Things have been so crazy that I didn't say anything."

"Tests, like algebra and history?"

"No HIV or anything else,” he said. “I got myself tested to make sure, and we know you're clear from all the lab work they did at the hospital."

"Wow."

"I want you,” he whispered.

"You know you have me, regardless."

"No,” he said. “I want us to be monogamous. I want us to be able to make love without latex."

I had never thought of that as something I'd ever do again. If we didn't have any diseases, and we were monogamous, then why not?

"You sure?” I asked. He answered by crawling on top of me and letting his weight part my legs. The only lube he used on me was some spit and pre-cum, and it was enough because he was uncut. Most of his movement was inside his foreskin, like God had planned.

And we made love. Glorious love. Two men together and completely in love with each other. I felt his warmth, and I felt him cum inside me. It was something that I never thought I would ever feel again. Wyatt gave himself to me, and I was completely his.

Our union was complete. Our love was consummated in a way that left an indelible record on both our souls.

Wyatt was all mine and nobody else's, and I was certainly his.

It was my time to cry.

The script from Janie Marroquin was waiting for me at the front desk of the hotel. It was a tad longer than her customary work, and she had written a note to record the entire thing without worrying about the clock. She and Ronny wanted extra material, and they planned to slice and dice the recording. Maybe they could even do a couple of days from the one script.

It was a script without any hard news. Human interest stories and commentary took up all the space. There was a little bit about a congressional vote, but most of it had nothing to date it. They could run the script on Monday or three months from now. Maybe we ought to plan ahead and get several of these scripts recorded for future use.

Debbie picked me up, and I kissed Wyatt goodbye. She and the kids were taking me to the suburbs.

The radio station was in a dinky little building, freestanding. There was a short AM transmission tower in a field behind the building, but the neon sign on the front said they had both AM and FM. I didn't see any FM transmission element on the AM stick. One short AM antenna told me that it was probably a daytime station. Some stations out in the country can only broadcast when the sun is up. They sign off at night to protect the signal of a larger station somewhere else. The larger station is called a clear-channel station.

The AM stick was so short that the frequency was up high on the dial, not the prestigious end of the AM spectrum. AM antennae are sized by frequency, not power. A tall stick is for stations on the far left of the band. This one was short, so I knew they broadcast somewhere near the police band or ham radio or microwave ovens.

The antenna was in a field because AM antennas often have additional wiring buried in the ground. I didn't know why because I'm just a voice, but it was what some engineers told me. There was one AM station along the Gulf Coast that put its antenna in a kind of bog. The ground system wiring was submerged into brackish or salty mush. I'm told that station's signal went out to every part of the gulf and the Caribbean. Naturally the station manager played dumb when the FCC came to investigate complaints from Mexico and Cuba. The guy who told me the story said the FCC never tested the ground around the antenna, or they would have found that the radio station had made the entire gulf part of its transmission hardware.

The man who answered the door was really pleasant, but he was in a huge hurry. He told us to wait in the front room. I think he was the only one in the station, and he was trying to get back to the studio to push a button or read the weather forecast or something like that.

They really have stations like this. I thought it looked like a fun way to do broadcasting. No money, but lots of fun.

After a few minutes, the man came back into the entrance room. He introduced himself and said the kids were more than welcome. He showed us to the production room.

I walked over and sat in the main chair.

"I'm Rob,” he said.

"Hey, Rob, I'm Sean. That's Debbie and Mason and Cathy and Anna."

"Mic is here,” he said, pointing to a switch and volume knob on the board. There were about a dozen sets of controls. I recognized the microphone: a Shure ribbon mic. They had plopped out several thousand dollars just for the microphone. They spent more on the mic than the control board.

"Awesome mic,” I said.

"You know it?"

"I know it's one of the best... ribbon, I think."

"Ribbon it is. I'll spare you the lecture about how fragile ribbons are."

"I understand,” I said. “Tell your boss that you gave me full instruction. Is there a pop-guard?"

"Nope, you're on the honor system, but Shure put lots of foam inside the casing. Sorry, I guess you know that. Start recording here,” he said, pointing to a red button. “Stop it there. Rewind and playback are here,” he said, pointing to other buttons.

"What about the upload?” I asked.

"No worries,” the man said. “Your engineer... um... Ronny or Johnny or something?"

I nodded.

"He called, and we got that all worked out. Do you edit?"

"No, Ronny will do that. They only trust my throat and nothing else."

"It's great having you here,” he said. “My wife told me to let you know she's a huge fan."

"Tell her thanks,” I said. “She has obvious great taste in announcers. Thanks again, Rob."

"Kids, you have to be quiet,” Debbie said as the man left us alone. “If you can't be still while Uncle Sean works, tell me now. We can all go sit in the reception area."

"I'm good here,” Mason said. The others nodded.

Rob. Rob. Rob.
I wrote down his name in the script before I forgot it.
Rob. Good.

There was a big red button that said DO NOT PRESS in big block letters. I had heard about a switch like that. An engineer had put it into a studio as a prank. It was hooked up to an electronic fart machine that went directly out on the air. I didn't plan on testing the button. Maybe it was hooked up to a big capacitor in the chair that would throw me up to the ceiling. You can't assume anything when it comes to an engineer.