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)
In the kitchen the smell of brewing coffee greeted Jack like an old friend. Gratefully he accepted the mug Jason poured for him. “Would you like some eggs or something?” Jason asked. “Or I could make pancakes.” He was behaving solicitously, as if his father had been ill or suffered a loss. Eric, on the other hand, was scowling, his arms folded across his chest, stern as a judge.
“No thanks, Jason. There’s bread in the bread box. Maybe just a piece of toast, if you don’t mind.”
Jason nodded, moving toward the old white enamel bread box Jack and he had found at a garage sale for one dollar maybe fifteen years before.
With a touch of nostalgia, Jack recalled how close he and Jason had once been. Like him, Jason loved to scour estate and garage sales, looking for bargains and rare items mislabeled as junk.
Now he wondered sadly what Jason thought of him. Was he as disillusioned as Eric apparently was? As horrified and disgusted as his younger brother to learn what their father really was? Would they lose the sweet easiness they’d always shared? The thought nearly broke his heart.
He and Eric had never been as close, though he’d tried to treat his sons equally. Now the rift between them might never be repaired.
Jason brought his toast to the table, along with butter and jelly. “Thanks.” Jack tried to ignore the sharp blade of pain jabbing at the back of his eyeballs. He took a bite of toast but his stomach rebelled and he set it down. He sipped his coffee, thinking how he’d like a hot shower. First he would deal with the boys. Better to get it over and done with.
“Eric.” He turned to his younger son. “I take it you’ve filled Jason in on your little visit last night.”
“Yes.” Eric’s tone was defiant. “I certainly did.”
“Eric walked in on a rather private moment. I didn’t hear him come in.”
“I know, Pop.” Jason’s expression was sympathetic. “I’ve told Eric he owes you an apology.”
“Which is ridiculous,” Eric shouted. “I owe him nothing. He owes me, us, an apology.”
I owe Will an apology, Jack suddenly thought. He’s the one who’s been left out of all this. He felt in his pocket for his cell phone. When he pulled it out, he realized the battery had died. Shit. He’d spent the night nearly drinking himself to death, telling himself Will should be the one to call him, since Will had been the one to walk out.
Maybe he had called. Who knew when his phone battery had died? He was forever forgetting to charge the damn thing.
“Dad, you aren’t even paying attention,” Eric said sententiously. “This is a serious matter.”
The coffee had fortified Jack somewhat. “Look, Eric. I’m sorry you walked in on that. I know it must come as a shock to you both. To tell you the truth, I’m probably more shocked than either of you. What I mean is, and what I started to tell you last night, Eric, is that I hadn’t planned on this whole thing.
“If you’d asked me a month ago if I was gay or had homosexual feelings, I’d have said, ‘No way, are you kidding?’” Eric choked on his juice. Jason’s expression was enigmatic. Jack plowed on. “I was married, for God’s sake, for twenty-six years. I never looked at another woman, much less another man.”
Eric winced. Exasperated, Jack said more sharply than he intended, “Oh Jesus, grow up, Eric. I’m your father, not your son, and this is the twenty-first century, not the eighteenth. Last time I checked it was perfectly legal to be gay. Last time I checked I’d raised you to be tolerant of others’ differences, to accept that yours isn’t necessarily the only viewpoint or way of life.”
Eric had the grace to look embarrassed. “I know. But it’s different when it’s your own father.”
“Okay. I can accept that, I guess. But it’s not going to change things. The man you saw me with is named Will. Will Spencer. I met him while doing some work on his home. He’s not just some guy I picked up, despite your rude insinuations to the contrary. He’s my friend. Maybe the best friend I’ve ever had. We talk. We really talk, about things that matter. He makes me feel good. He makes me happy. We have an emotional connection I never experienced with anyone before.”
“What about Mom?” Eric burst out.
Jack started to lie, to answer with a knee-jerk assurance no one would ever replace Emma. He caught Jason’s eye, however, and stopped. Jason’s expression was curious. He didn’t look at all angry, or even sad or confused. He looked, well, happy. Or perhaps amused was the better word. He certainly didn’t appear flustered and upset, as Eric did. Something tugged at Jack’s subconscious, but he felt too foggy from his hangover to take much notice. Taking courage from Jason’s seeming acceptance, he shook his head.