Letting Go (12 page)

Damn. Three calls from Blair. He had left a message last night implying he had a hot date and would be out overnight so his son wouldn’t worry. He didn’t want to see or talk to his boy last night. He called Blair. He answered on the first ring.

“Dad?”

“Yeah, son?”

“You okay?”

Grant rubbed his forehead. “Yeah, why? What’s wrong? Didn’t you get my note?”

“I got it. But your dad and grandma called this morning asking questions. You have some kind of event this afternoon he thinks I should attend. I don’t have to go, do I?”

Blair and Grant’s dad had never connected. He suspected it had something to do with the way his dad turned on his ex, Blair’s mom. When he asked Blair why he called his mom, grandma, and his dad, your dad, his son shrugged and said his grandfather told him to call him that. He had been five at the time.

“Why not? It’s Saturday, what do you have planned?”

Blair didn’t answer.

“I’ll be home in a little while. See you soon, son.”

“Okay, bye.”

He closed his eyes. Blair sounded normal. Could he have misunderstood things last night? The idea had merit. It had been late and dark in the theater. The more he thought it over, the more certain he became that he’d been mistaken. In the end his mind balked and rejected the lie.

****

The following week Grant couldn’t focus worth a damn. The morning he returned after his drinking binge, he asked his son about the movies. Blair had smiled and said he had a good time. He claimed he and Robin chose another movie. If Grant hadn’t seen the tall, muscular guy, he would’ve thought, like his mom did, his son talked about a girl. It dawned on him, Blair fanned that illusion, which made the reality harder to grasp.

Grant couldn’t look at his son without seeing him lay his head on Robin’s arm. The visual disgusted him. He spent longer hours away from home working the campaign. Not that it improved his numbers. He misquoted facts, forgot his talking points, and missed critical lines in his speeches. Each day he feared a reporter would question him about his son hugging another guy.

A new world opened. His sensitivity to his son’s behavior changed how he processed information. For the first time he heard the derision, the hatred and bigotry targeted toward gays. It sickened and scared him. The cruelty his son could face stiffened his resolve to avoid any discussion with Blair.

Conflicted, he couldn’t spew the conservative talking points with the same conviction. More than once he walked away, refusing to listen to his father or his uncle or Kip insult gays or women or the poor. Their jokes and comments irritated and made him defensive. Those people now had faces. And one lived in his home.

More than once his dad accused him of getting soft and warned him his attitude would make him lose the primary. They didn’t understand. Hell, he didn’t understand why his world changed. Grant didn’t know what to do. One thing for sure, he couldn’t talk to anyone he knew about things. His head hurt over his parent’s reaction. His dad and brother would find a way to blame him for his son’s choices. He loved his kid, but he couldn’t accept this. It ate at him to the point he couldn’t stand being in the same room with Blair. He had to get help.

He thought of Kelly, wondered how she’d react if he called her after all these months to talk about his problems. This was different than hiding his mementos of his past in a room. Or his concerns of not being the best qualified candidate. She’d listened and never judged. But she had bailed and he wasn’t sure if it had something to do with the things he’d shared.

“Hey Dad?”

Blair surprised him being home this time of day. He should be at school. The hesitancy in his son’s voice set off a war of emotions. Anger, disappointment, and embarrassment warred in his chest. He didn’t turn fully, just spoke over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

“Wanna throw the ball, get some practice in later?”

“Ah…no, I’m heading over to Kip’s. I’ll be there for a while. Wanna come?” It was an empty offer, Grant knew Blair would refuse. He didn’t care for Kip for some reason.

“Nah, that’s okay.”

Relieved, Grant nodded. “See you later.”

“Dad?”

Grant couldn’t bear to look at him. It hurt. “Yeah?”

“What’s wrong? You been acting strange, quiet-like all week. I haven’t seen much of you.”

He sensed Blair behind him. This should never have happened. It was never supposed to happen to him. Not his son. “Everything’s okay. Just got um… a lot on my mind.”

“Is it the campaign? I can go with you to some places if it’ll help. Your dad said your numbers were tanking. He asked if you’ve been drinking again. He said you were going to lose if you didn’t pull it together, is that true?”

When Grant gave up liquor, he promised his son he would never lie to him. He hadn’t broken either vow, until today. “Could be. See you later, sport.” He tried to inject some normalcy into his tone and failed.

“Okay. I’mma head over to my friend’s and do some studying. Be home later.”

Grant stopped. “What friend? They live nearby?” It had been a long time since he asked his son who he spent his time with, that had been a mistake.

“Robin. I’m going over there, not too far.”

Grant picked up on the vague answer and let it slide. There were so many questions bubbling beneath the surface, but he wasn’t ready to accept the answer. He needed to be prepared for the truth and right now all he wanted was to punch his fist through the wall.

“Okay, drive safe.”

He reached the garage first and headed out. Instead of going to Kip’s he headed in the opposite direction, out of his district. Every night this week sleep had eluded him. He pulled into the parking lot of the Episcopal Church. His hands clenched around the steering wheel as he inhaled and released his breath a few times to order his thoughts. This particular church had counseling for families with gays and other support groups. Most importantly, they promised discretion. He hadn’t yet decided what to do about the campaign, and until then neither the press nor his dad could find out about his son.

Grant pushed his sunglasses up his nose and slid out of the car. He was ten minutes early for his appointment, but that was okay. It would give him the time to go over how much he wanted to share.

Fifteen minutes later he was still waiting to see the minister when his cell beeped. He glanced at the caller ID and answered. “Blair?”

“Dad, something’s wrong with the car. It won’t start.”

Good. He wouldn’t be able to spend time with his… He slammed the door shut on that thought. “Well, stay home tonight and I’ll have the mechanic pick it up in the morning to check it out.” The admin stood nearby and waved him to come forward. The minister would see him now.

“How am I supposed to get it home?”

Grant stopped and held up a finger. The older woman nodded. “Where’s the car?”

“It’s in Robin’s driveway. I need to move it before his mom gets here. She can’t get in the garage. You have the number for a tow truck?”

His son was with his friend alone? Dammit! “I’m going into a meeting, give me the address, I’ll call it in.” He removed a pen from the pencil cup on the desk and wrote the address down. “That’s almost an hour away, what’re you doing way over there?”

“I told you, studying and hanging out with friends.”

Grant clenched his jaw to keep from saying something cutting. “Okay, I’ll send you a text with the information so you can look out for the tow truck.”

“Will do. Thanks”

Pissed and defeated, he strode into the office.

Chapter 11

“Hell no, not today,” Kelly murmured, seeing the black Toyota Camry in the driveway blocking her entrance. She pressed her horn, the loud blare a testament of her fatigue. It was seven p.m., she should have been home hours ago, but the May Day festival drew its largest crowd ever. Principal Howard left early, leaving her in charge, again. The crafty older man sent her a text claiming he didn’t feel well and needed to leave.

The PalmRight Institute claimed they were still reviewing candidates for the Executive Director’s position, and promised to let her know something by the end of the month. That day couldn’t come soon enough. She’d leave this job in a heartbeat.

She tapped on the steering wheel while watching her son and his friend walk out the front door. BJ waved and leaned against his car, while Robin walked to her.

“Hi Mom.” He spoke before he reached her window and leaned forward.

She nodded, wondering why BJ hadn’t moved his car.

“BJ’s dad is sending a tow truck. Something’s wrong with his car. Sorry about that,” he added when her frown remained in place.

Instead of telling him about her long day, or how tired she was, or her plans to sink into a warm bath, once again she nodded. Pulling onto the side of the road in front of her home, she parked and waved at the other boy.

“Hi, Ms. Kelly,” the young teen said. When Robin had introduced BJ, she had been surprised. To look at the young athlete you would never suspect he was interested in other boys. But he and Robin had been friends for the past two years and close friends for the past six months. Although her son never discussed his friendships, by her request, she knew he really liked this guy. The feeling appeared to be mutual.

“Hi BJ. What’s wrong with your car?” she asked out of politeness.

“I don’t know. It cranks, but won’t move.” He leaned against the vehicle with his arms crossed.

“That sounds like a transmission problem, but your car isn’t that old.” She frowned looking at the black vehicle. “It’s only, what… five, six years old?” She looked up at him.

“Five years.” He shrugged. “I reached my dad, he called the tow company. When he calls me back, I’ll ask him to pick me up. Sorry about you parking on the curb.”

She smiled at the earnest young man and waved down his concern. Robin would move her car and park it in the garage later. “It’s okay. I’m just glad you weren’t driving or far from the house when it happened. It could’ve been worse.”

“That’s true,” he said, glancing at Robin and then back at her.

She nodded and headed inside. A dull throb rested at the bottom of her neck, she needed to unwind. Exhausted, she headed for her room and closed the door. Toeing off her shoes, she lay across her bed and tried to clear her thoughts.

It didn’t help. The situation at work had grown intolerable. Mountains of paperwork filled her desk. If her boss continued to push his workload onto her, she’d have to resign. Hell, she’d been doing his work for so long she ran the school. It wouldn’t be so bad if she had help.

She pushed herself up, and headed to the shower. “I’m so tired, and horny,” she murmured turning on the water and then tested its warmth. “Hotter…I need heat.”

Grant flashed across her mind, and this time she allowed the memories of his touch to linger. “Mmmm,” she moaned beneath the hot flow. For a brief moment she concentrated on how good it had been between them. The man had mastered her body and brought her pleasure too many times to count. Without question, Grant had been her best lover to date; pity their viewpoints were so far apart. She’d kept up with him in the papers, his smile these days seemed forced, and his words sounded empty. “You should embrace all people,” she murmured, wishing he were more tolerant. She missed him so much. It had been months and she still couldn’t get the man out of her mind. Shifting gears, her thoughts turned to Jessie, and then family.

“That boy’s crooked and it’s your fault
.” She jammed the door against the guilt and shame brought on by her Aunt Edna's intolerance. Neither of those emotions were welcomed in her heart or mind.

“Not listening to you,” she murmured, lathering her body, turning from the crotchety sound of her relative’s voice. Hard as she tried to avoid it, the conversation she’d had with Aunt Edna rose as a specter in the corner of her mind. She slapped the ceramic wall in frustration. Damn, why did thinking of Grant rake away leaves and soil covering past, buried events?

“Nope.” She shook her head at home-grown memories full of opposing opinions. “Not going there with you, took me too long to get where I am.” Accepting her son’s orientation had been tough, she still had rough days, but they’d found a measure of compromise that worked for them. For the most part the only thing that changed was she knew he had a boyfriend who came over sometimes.