Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 66022 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66022 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
They moved automatically toward the kitchen table, the spot where all serious family issues had been hashed out over the years and, ultimately, resolved. Of all the days for Eric just to show up, unannounced. Eric lived in New Jersey, where he worked in the human resource department of a large electronics firm. He usually called before he made the trip up to New Rochelle. The last several times, since he’d become engaged, he always brought his fiancé, Lisa, with him.
Jesus, was she here too? Panic assailed Jack afresh. Why did he feel like an errant child in all this, coming to the table to hear his punishment decreed? He was in his own house, after all. He was a grown man. It wasn’t like he was cheating on Emma—he was free to do as he liked.
But not like this—not to be caught with a naked man, that man’s semen dripping off his face. Jack flushed, deeply embarrassed at what his son had witnessed.
Eric was waiting for him at the table, his face baleful with reproach. “I’m just in shock, Dad. What would Mom say? I can’t believe I saw what I saw.”
Jack lowered himself into a chair, suddenly feeling very old. “Is Lisa here?” he asked, as much to put off this inevitable confrontation as anything.
“No. We’re—we’re taking a break. From each other. She needs”—his voice twisted into a sneer though Jack was sure it was to hide his pain—“her space for a while, she says. Whatever the hell that means.”
“I’m sorry,” Jack offered, sorry for his son, but glad for the momentary distraction of someone else’s problems.
Eric waved his hand dismissively. “Forget it. We’ll work through it. That’s hardly the issue now. I want to know what the hell is going on here, Dad. Have you lost your mind? I can hardly believe the sickening display—”
“That’s enough, Eric.” Jack’s embarrassment was replaced, or at least partially offset, by rising irritation. Who was Eric to judge him? What did he know of Jack’s life since his wife had died? What did he know of life, period?
Still, he knew it must have come as a terrible shock, to see your father, of all people, with another man. He looked at his son. Eric had always been the more intense of the two boys, taking life’s random foibles personally. Where Jason could laugh off bad fortune, Eric absorbed it into himself. Privately Jack and Emma used to wonder how they’d ended up with such a serious, sometimes morose boy. He’d been surprised but pleased to learn of Eric’s engagement two months before. Lisa seemed good for him—cheerful and gentle, easing him out of funks where no one else could.
“Look, son, whatever you walked in on, you did come in uninvited—”
“Oh, so now I need a personal invitation to my own house,” Eric retorted heatedly. “When Mom was alive I didn’t need an invitation. I grew up here. I guess I always thought this would be my home.”
“Stop it, Eric. Of course it’s your home.”
“Well, I don’t expect to come to my own home and see my father sucking off some—some male prostitute.” Eric’s face twisted again. He looked as if he might cry.
Jack tried to stay calm, reminding himself he had twenty-three years of experience on the boy. “That wasn’t a prostitute, Eric. He was my friend. Is my friend.”
“Your friend,” Eric sputtered, his voice rich with disdain. “He looked my age, for God’s sake.”
“He’s thirty, if it’s any of your business.” Jack spoke sharply. He forced himself to take a deep breath. He needed to find a way to explain things without upsetting Eric further.
“Oh, so it’s not my business that my father’s turned into a fucking faggot—” Eric’s voice raised to a squeal.
“That’s enough!” Jack shouted, smashing his fist onto the table between them. Forgetting for the moment about his son’s feelings in the matter, he went on, “You don’t know what it’s like, Eric. To be alone after spending your life with someone. I didn’t plan on getting involved with another man. It just sort of—happened.”
“You just sort of happened to have your mouth on his dick, is that it?”
Rage hurtled up through his gut like a bitter fire. Barely able to contain it, he said in a soft, dangerous voice, “Eric, I’m going to ask you to leave now. We can talk again when you’ve calmed down. I will not have you sit in my house and insult me.” The tips of his ears burned. He knew he must be crimson. He pressed his nails into his palms to keep from screaming.
Eric pushed back from the table, sending the chair behind him crashing to the floor. “Thank God Mom didn’t live to see this. Wait until Jason finds out. Jesus, my own dad.” He stumbled from the kitchen. Jack made no effort to follow him. The front door slammed and tires squealed in protest down the driveway.