Over a Scotch

“I was having a drink with a friend,” I told him.

“What did you feel today, Grampy?” He asked.

I had no idea what he thought he knew. There are times when he seems oblivious to what I feel; or acts that way. “I had drinks with a friend and it caused remembering things from the pasts.”

“I know.” He said. “Don’t be pissed, Grampy.” And he pulled my forehead to his.

It was twenty-five- years ago. But it wasn’t through my eyes. It was like watching myself; I knew where I was and remembered that night. It was through, Robby’s eyes. The way he saw me. I remembered us in the mirror before, we looked so…fuckin good.

‘People, not good people, now me Rye.’ Was what he said. People who knew things he’d done, and it worried him. And I felt what he did when I said, “Fuck’em. You’re a Chancellor.”

It is one thing to remember something you did or said; another seeing and hearing it happen. “Stop, RJ. Grampy knows.”

“You think you know, but you have no idea, Grampy.” And his forehead found mine again.

I mean, I lived it. I remembered every fuckin detail of that night; my grandson showed me what Robby saw; what he felt. How did he know? You, it’s, fuck. This is again, a really hard thing to explain. “Stop.” And I pulled his head to my shoulder.

I saw myself through his eyes again, felt what he did watching me, felt him cum in his pants when my hands hit the table. “Enough. Stop this now and forget it; do you hear me?’

“I hear you Grampy; I really wish I could?”

I pulled his head away cupping his cheeks in my hands, locking his eyes on mine, “Forget. Forget, Jr.”

“You’re funny, Grampy. Really? I remember everything. I would have done the same; let it go, Grampy. I would have killed them all, too.”

NO!

“Grampy?”

“Stop this now, Jr.” How can I lay this out to him?

He was now sitting on my lap; all he had on was his soft sleep pants and he was so… warm cuddling into me. “It complicated, Lil dude. You have no idea,”

“Silly, Grampy.”

I couldn’t fuckin help it. “Grampy, please don’t cry.”

“It’s not your fault, little guy. Sometimes Grampy’s’ just needs to cry. We’ve talked about this; you don’t peek on Grampy, Robby.”

“I don’t; I swear. But when your colors, when I see your eyes, I’m sorry, I can’t help it.” And I pulled him closer.

“How was the Pizza?” I asked as his brother brought in the rest of the box.

I always get a large; Garlic Chicken, Meat Lovers, Hawaiian, and the other quarter, Veggie. Guess what was left for me. “Let’s go Zoom with Pat.” He said to his little brother and I took bites.

“Robby? We need to talk when you’re done.” I directed with a look he didn’t like. “I want your computer; and phone.”

I thought about today and Mike as I set the board and laptop over my knees and started peaking at the keys. Like I have always said; nonfiction is easier to write, and I did. Almost Seven-thousand words flowed from me describing a few hours with a guy, ‘Over a Scotch’.

A half hour later Robby came in with his computer and an unhappy face. I closed mine and set his on my lap. “What am I going to find, Robby? You know I am the only one who can delete shit, right?” And he nodded.

“I read your story, Grampy.” He told me never making eye contact.

I turned away, closed my eyes, and took in a breath realizing I met two readers today. “What have you read and how many videos have you watched??? Be honest.” And I waited.

“I read ‘Robby and Ryan’, ‘The Start’, and the other stuff. I’ve watched some videos, too.” And I took another deep breath.

“You do know, that’s not love, right? What you see in those clips, the sex, those guys are getting paid to do what they do; it isn’t making love. That’s the problem with these sites, all you have to do is click a button. Kids like you and younger even; they don’t have anyone watching what they do.” And I took another deep breath as he looked at me wondering if I was telling him the truth.

“What should I do, Jr.?”

“I promise, Grampy.”

“OK. I won’t look through the history; I won’t block the site. You bring me your laptop every night for the next two weeks and I will look through it. Robby, you need to understand.” And I took yet another deep breath.

“The stories you read and the videos you watch; it’s addictive to adults and can ruin a young fresh mind. I, of all people, understand lust. But lust is not love. If you can’t help but go to those sites, knowing I will find out, you have a problem.” I wanted him to understand how serious this was.

“I promise, Grampy.” And I believed him.

“A promise is something you keep, Jr.; like Grampy does. Not something you say and then forget like your parents would. I could give a rats damn who you love, but I do want you to love and be loved, to be happy. Now give Grampy a Kiss.” He did and I gave him back his computer.

“Note to self: email, Bjorn again.”    

I did what I do in the mornings; I made my boys whatever they wanted for breakfast. I would do pancakes with blueberry eyes, a nose, and a smiley face. Sometimes eggs over easy with hash browns, or Waffle French toast; peanut butter, butter, and maple syrup all melted together. Bacon, real sausage, toast, and milk. It’s a great morning routine. And the boys gave me the time after.

I sat under the patio heater and logged on to GD. The suspense is always a thrill wondering who posted today, and I sipped my coffee. Grant. The ‘one-shot wonder guy’ was leading us on with short chapters and as I read a smile came to my face. You go, Grant.

Big D, with another installment. I’m sure I’ve read all he’s written; a prolific author that has inspired me, and for some unknown reason, I passed that Idol. And then I saw, ‘Just a Story’, By MB. I read and commented. Three days later I did what most guys my age do when getting the paper; I turned to the Obituaries. And I saw Mikes’ name.

I thought about what he told me and what he wrote. He truly loved Johnny but that wasn’t enough. Johnny was a loner, saw Mike as a ticket to somewhere, and only gave him what he so… desperately needed on rare occasions. It’s beyond sad.

Mike did show his ass, let readers see his bare backside. He told of a night or two than about the months or a year between. He hated himself for allowing Johnny back into his life knowing the pain he’d feel when the one he loved would leave again looking for what was right in front of him. It was so… sad.     

A week after that I went to the celebration of life at a little bar on The Snohomish River. He was easy to spot, Johnny; maybe ten years younger than me. I clapped my hands in the air and told Todd, “A round of Fiddich-12, on Mike.” And I laughed inward as Todd did outward. And I moved Johnny to the deck.

“I know who you are!” He said in a snotty tone. It took all I had to keep from slapping him across the fuckin face

“Did you know who, Mike really was? Do you know how many times you hurt him?” And I was winding up. It’s been a long time.

“He talked about you all the fuckin time. How do you think that made me feel?” And his head rocked back and forth. That did it. You just hit: BINGO mister.

I put my left hand around his neck and launched my right fist into his gut, not upward so he’d puke; then guiding him to a chair telling him he’d be ok.

He puked, anyway. I pulled my feet back just in the nick of time. I smiled, then a chuckle, and after a few seconds, I was ready to fall over in laughter.

And Todd came out. “I think he’s had too much, cut him off.” And he nodded like believing me seeing his lunch sprayed out on the deck.

“You’re lucky I didn’t go for your nuts,” I said in his ear. “You sit here and catch, your fuckin breath. If you get up and head for the door; you might not wake up till tomorrow. ARE WE CLEAR???” I was surprised I found that voice of old. He nodded.

I stood walking over to the jukebox, deposited a couple of bucks, and looked over at Johnny with his head between his knees; I felt bad. OK. NOT. This is not me, don’t do this kind of shit; ok, almost never any more. I hit all the buttons Mike had a week and a half ago; and a few he didn’t.

‘Midnight Train to Georgia.’ I turned looking at Todd giving him the, crank it up, thumbs. He did. If there was ever a beat to a song; I love this fuckin song, could blow it out of the park, and that’s what I did as Todd brought the volume back down. There are songs that make you move. I walked the room to people smiling, others crying, and I fuckin moved.

I remembered back in the day of, Soul Train, Dick Clark, and The Midnight Special. I have a range, can sing most shit, and I made Gladys Knight, proud. For those who are shower singers; I know you can fuckin rock it, in the shower. I rock with my clothes on, in front of people; try it sometime.

I sang as my body swayed on its own accord with thumbs over my back and hips moving. “LA…Room much for the man. He couldn’t make it, so he’s leaven life, he’s cum to know.’ I looked to the deck then scanned the room. Johnny was making his way to the door.

‘He said he’s going back to find,’ And I gave Todd a look along with a finger; then he did what I wish I could have done. He close lined him in a single motion dragging his sorry ass behind the bar then smiled at me. It made me laugh.

“We’ll be with him; on that midnight train to Georgia. i'd rather be in his world, than be without him, in mine.” And Todd pulled Johnny up by the scruff of his neck to see what was happening.

I didn’t realize at the time I was paying homage to Mike with verses and telling Johnny’s story with others. “Lord, be with him; I know we will.” And I moved from one person to another, “I know we will.”

This was something I remembered from long ago; singing in front of people. And I walked to the bar where Todd had Johnny sequestered. “He got dreamin, that someday you’d be a star, a superstar; but you didn’t get far, did you?” And I looked at him shaking my head back and forth.

“But you sure found out the hard way, that dreams don’t always come true. So he burned all his hopes and even sold your old car. And you bought a one-way ticket back to the life you once knew, oh yes you did.” And I seemed to hit the dumb ass in the head.

“He’s leaving, on that Midnight Train to Heaven. Said he’s going back to a simpler place in time: Lord be with him, I know I will, on that Midnight Train to heaven,” I took a deep breath and looked around.

I know what smiles with tears mean; fuck yes, I do. Todd handed me the mic. I walked back letting both men and women kiss me, thank me, and I told them I got a little carried away. ‘Carry us away’ they said. I handed the mic back to Todd and he shook his head no, and the volume came back up.

I shook my head no as the second-best beat came up. Now, I love moving to fuckin music, making luv to music, I just love moving to the beat. And I did. I smiled closing my eyes bobbing back and forth, ran a hand up under my shirt, and brought the microphone to my lips.

“Holding back the Years, thinking of the fear I’ve had so… long. When somebody hears, listen to the fear that’s gone. Strangled by the wishes of fate so long.” And we all sang together. I realized that this was turning into me and should have been about Mike. I set the mic on the bar.

Don’t ask me why? I fell into the role of host as I talked to everyone who probably wondered if I was Mike’s lover; I didn’t confirm or deny anything. I told Todd I would pick up the tab.

“He left everything to this place; Mike can buy a lot of drinks for a long time.” I smiled.

When I arrived home Robby brought in his computer even though I wasn’t to see it till after dinner. He set it on my lap, “I’m sorry, Grampy.” I opened it up and went to history. ‘Robby and Ryan’ chapter 42. I checked history and there was nothing that caught my eye other than he had read ‘Robby and Ryan’ again.

Time to step up and be the dad. “I am blocking this site and clearing the history. I’m doing the same on your phone.” I told him bluntly.

“Please, Grampy? I won’t look at vids, won’t read anybody else’s stories, Please Grampy?”

I thought about being fourteen, 1974. I couldn’t help but wonder what I would be today if I had what kids have today, endless, hardcore shit. I mean, just Google ‘Cocks.’ I knew stuff like this today, the visuals that kids can pull up, unrealistic shit. And I knew my grandson.

I didn’t want him to think that what he saw was love, wanted him to be able to jack off just because it felt good, not because of what he saw. I thought about my stories and those of others who write; would it be a bad thing? “I’m still blocking the site, Robby. If I find something I think is suitable, I’ll forward you the link.” Had I just done a bad thing knowing I would forward the next chapter from RA; Let me Lead?

I want all writers, Authors, and readers alike, to think about that. My grandson had read all I had written, some seven-hundred-thousand-words. I was so descriptive thinking about readers, I never thought about this. I never thought about looking into eyes that loved me, and loved the other side of me, as well.

“You know, Grampy? It’s kind of hard sharing a room with him.” And he looked at the floor.

I understood what he was saying. I didn’t want for him, the things that can happen between brothers, you know what I mean. “How has he been sleeping?” I asked knowing his little brother had BAD dreams; terrors.

“He’s been good, Grampy, I’d have told you.”

It wasn’t like I didn’t have another room; yes, it was my office but still had our old waterbed from over half a lifetime ago. What to do??? “Talk to your brother, see if you are something he can sleep without, take it slow and you can have the other room.”

“Thank you, Grampy. He’s been doing way better.”

“Look, Jr., This is hard. Your Dad is over half my age and I know I fucked up with him and D. I can’t afford to let that happen again with you and your brother.” And I thought about what I said.

“You’re funny, Grampy.” And he ran his fingers over my face. “Grampy? Was all that true? I mean you and Uncle Robby?”

It kind of made me sick that he had read what I’d written, how our life was. “You need to be more specific, Jr.”

“Open the file, ‘Ask Grampy.’” He told me and I did.

The first thing was, “Was it real?” I thought about all I’d written, life with Rob, the death of my mother and Robin. The life and death of my husband and soulmate, drugs, and how everything shaped my life right up to this moment. “You need to be more specific, Jr.” And I know how big I need to smile for dimples to appear

“Did you know, Grampy? I mean, when you saw him the first time?”

It wasn’t a hard question. “Yes. Well. I knew something had just changed my life this time. I’d felt it before.”

“Grampy?” And he looked at me and I knew where he was going.

“Robby? Grampy was just a boy; only a few years older than you and Robby wasn’t even sixteen. Don’t ask me things that you know will be hard for me.”

“Nothing good is ever easy, Grampy.” I could see his wheels turning, remembering the hundreds of thousands of words I wrote, and what he’d seen stepping into my brain.” I’m sorry, Grampy. I really am.” I smiled and nodded; he did know.

“When you guys went to the State Park, was it like what you wrote? It made me laugh that they didn’t know, Queen. I mean, really?”

I remembered that chapter fondly and smiled; then thought Robby had read what I’d written. I shared this kind of intimate stuff with anonymous friends never thinking of what would happen years later down the road.

“You’re a bad, bad, monkey, Robby.”  And I shook my head.

“They sounded kind of hot, Grampy. I hope things worked out for them.” And for the first time, I did also.  

“Grampy? Willows?” I mean what a fuckin question.

“Your Dad and Uncle don’t know; never fear her. Willow’s is, I don’t really know what the fuck that house is, but in her care, she will never let anything happen to you or the ones you love.”

“Grampy? Was the whole deer thing true???” And I could see tears form.

“It was, as he remembered. Do you have any idea how my life would be today if things had been different? Just one little thing. Would you even be here? There is a master plan, Jr. We will never understand it, but, what will be, will be.” And he had tears, now.

“Grampy?” And I pulled his head next to mine so I didn’t have to witness.

I thought about my life; it was so…much more than I ever shared. I’m halfway through it; Robs’ birthday, and the day he died. It is a hard four months. Add to that, the newer shit in life. What happened with TJ, last Thanksgiving; I hope none of you ever have to do CPR on your child.

And here I am today with his son next to me. I took both of his boys, paid their parents, and disinherited my eldest son. I see his; as my failures. Did I do something wrong? Maybe it was something I did or maybe didn’t do. Who, fuckin knows? But I know I raised him better than this.

Robby moved to the keyboard, it has only been nine months and that boy has a natural talent with his long fingers and sense of rhythm. Anything with strings. His brother loves the drums and when he heard us his sound blended with his brothers.

So! I’ve gone pretty far down the rabbit hole, with this one. I’m sure most of you who read are disappointed you didn’t get the ‘one-off’ you were hoping for. Sorry. The thing is, I want you to remember me, RJC. I want you to think beyond what you hope to find in a story, think about it as you go on with your day.

Then think; my older readers. Kids and grandkids are home. Cover your tracks because all of the kids are on computers now. They are way smarter than us, can probably guess your password in five moves, and get into your history and files.

Take control, step up, and look at your kid’s history, see where they’ve been going, take some control. I think the results would surprise you. Look at their phones, look at texts; who are these people? Look at the video’s they have taken of themselves and where they sent them.

I mean these kids have sites. They show themselves to strangers, and some for money. The shit they do today will never go away and they haven’t a fuckin clue. Lock your shit uptight, check on them, and their sexual wellbeing. I hope you are not surprised.