Shooting Matt Ch. 19

"How long has she been sleeping upstairs?"

"Since, the funeral. I don't know what to tell you, son. She was nearly out of her mind when she saw that damn TV clip," Ron tells his son without looking up from his plate. He's swiping his plate with the last bit of his toast. He tosses it in his mouth and pushes his plate back. He looks at me.

"They showed that always down here?" I ask.

"Shoot," Ron snorts. "He made it onto CNN. Nothing like a little death and destruction to keep folks tuning in." His gaze returns to his son. "She loves you to pieces. She's just forgotten how to show it. I don't want to make things worse, and I hate sounded like that damn Dr. Phil character, but I think your mother was secretly relieved when Brad died. I know that sounds terrible, 'cause it is terrible. She knows it, too and that's why she's such a mess."

"Why would Brad dying be a relief?" Kent asks, looking shocked.

"Because she really imagines you bein' gay is some sort of phase you're going through, and that then you'd come to your senses. She's not kidding about that. She believes it. My Lord, you should have seen how she tightened up when she saw the friend driving you home was another man." He looks at me. "I'm sorry the way the missus acted toward you. Truly, I am."

"Don't be. My mom and my grandparents, the only family I had, never knew about me, never knew I was bisexual. I don't know how they would have reacted. More than likely, a lot worse than that. So, there's nothing for you to be sorry about."

"Well, I apologize anyway."

"I used to imagine she'd learn to, if not approve, at least accept that I was gay."

"She may yet," Ron tells Kent. "She may yet. She's mostly in a dither over not having any grandbabies. That, and the old biddies at church, is what keeps her panties in a wad."

I stand and gather up the plates.

"You don't..." Ron starts but I cut him off.

"Yeah, I do. You fixed breakfast; I'll do the dishes. Then we can take care of Kent's hands."

"I'm going to try to take a shower first," Kent says, rising from the table.

"Hang on a minute. It won't take long to do these few dishes and I'll help you."

"Dammit boys, this is my house. I'll do the dishes. Randy, you go help the Human Torch here get cleaned up."

I let the dishes slide into the soapy water and dry my hands.

"Yes, sir."

I decide not to be an idiot and protest too much. I'd rather wash Kent than a couple of plates.

"I can do this myself." He tells me after we're in the bathroom.

"Uh-huh," I agree as I untie his bathrobe. I help him get if off over his hands and hang it on the hook on the back of the bathroom door. I tug his pajama bottoms off and hang them on the hook as well. His dick is enticing but I focus on my current duties as a nurse, not a lover.

I adjust the water and offer him a steadying hand as he steps into the bathtub. Everything goes fine, nursing-wise, until I get to his crotch. I wash his dick, his balls, his ass. He gets hard. I get hard. I rinse him. He's still hard. I don't want him to suffer, so I sit on top of the toilet and take his dick into my mouth.

It doesn't take long. I think both of us have the fact that his dad is sitting downstairs waiting for us in the back of our minds.

He can't grab my head, not with his hands all bandaged. It's a pity. I do love his fingers in my hair, pulling and clenching when he cums.

He tastes as wonderful as ever. We share a kiss, and a taste, and then I help him out of the tub. I have no idea what to do with my boner. We don't have time for me to jerk off. Kent has a few burns on his face; I'm not sure he's up for giving me head, even if we had time. I readjust, pulling my cock straight up and using the waistband of my jeans to hold it in place. I tug the tee shirt as low as it will go.

Kent insists on practicing dressing himself. He does okay, other than he can't button his pants. I'm more than happy to do so and if my hand strays a bit, well, it's his fault for being so goddamn attractive.

His hands are an ordeal. He insists the ibuprofen he took before breakfast has helped but his face is pale when we're finished. He stretches out on the couch and falls asleep.

Ron nods at me and I follow him out the back door. He shows me around the place. Stops to point out the boundaries of his farm.

"This will be Kent's, after his momma and I are gone." He's looking out across a field of corn; even I can recognize corn. "Funny thing is, he always liked farming." Ron shakes his head and grimaces. "But he couldn't have no life out here. Oh, he could have holed up like some of them old 'bachelor' farmers." The quotes around 'bachelor' were easily heard. "I suspect more than a few of 'em just had no interest in women. We'd snicker behind their backs and share a joke or two down at the mill. I didn't want that for him." He looks at me as if seeking confirmation. "That wouldn't have been no kind of life for him."

"From what I can tell, Kent has a mind of his own. If he'd wanted to stay and be a farmer, he would've stayed." I look at the older man. "He's a helluva good nurse you know. He took care of my son's friend. That's how I met him." I wait for the you-got-a-son questions but they don't materialize.

"You're right. Kent has always been darn good at whatever he set his mind to but you can't hardly force him to do a thing he don't want to do." He laughs. It's a good sound. "If you can get him to eat his asparagus you're a better man than his momma and me." He frowns. "That didn't come out right but you know what I mean."

"Not a problem. I don't like asparagus either."

"You, care for him, don't you? I don't mean care for him like changing his bandages and such. I mean you care for him."

"That I do." After a moment I add, "A lot."

"Don't take this the wrong way but Brad was a helluva fella. Damn cancer. I liked him right off the bat. He acted a little lighter in the loafers than you do, if you know what I mean, but I liked him right off the bat. I knew he'd do right by my boy. Agnes could never see that. All she could see was herself sitting in a church committee meeting with all the other old biddies passing around pictures of their grandbabies and her with nothing to show."

"They could have had kids. Did they ever talk about it?"

"I can't say as I know that. You mean adoption?"

"Sure, or a surrogate mom. Brad or Kent could have supplied the sperm."

"I guess I've heard of that. Hard for me to picture a woman carrying a baby for money and then giving it away but I guess it's done." He gives me a long look. "Try not to think too poorly of us, not just Agnes and me but folks around here. Hell, son, we're only just now getting use to the idea of Chinese food, other than that La Choy crap Agnes used to buy to look sophisticated, and you want us to understand two men havin' a baby? Most of us ain't mean, it's just an awful lot to get your head around."

"I don't think your mean, not most of you, but some are. Those are the ones I have little use for."

"Well, I don't have a whole lot of use for 'em myself but maybe I understand 'em a little better." He jerks his head toward the house. "Come on, let's go in before it gets too hot." He turns and starts toward the house but stops. "I got side-tracked. I told you I liked Brad right off the bat. I meant to tell you the same. I think you'll do right by my boy."

I nod my thanks. I'm not sure what to say, any more than I trust myself to be able to get it out without my voice catching and sounding light in the loafers.

In the end, it's Ron who shows me around town, such as it is. He disappears until well after lunch. I hear a tractor running and assume he's doing what every it is a farmer does. I grabbed a shower while Kent slept on the couch. I jerk off, thinking of the way his dick felt in my mouth. I had to. He'll understand.

Ron took us in his old Lincoln Town Car. We ate at the small diner in town. Folks stared, came over and said 'hi' to Kent. Most of them seemed to know about the accident and fire and congratulated him. Most nodded when I was introduced and then ignored me. They weren't being rude; they just didn't know me.

The rest of the evening was so normal it was almost scary. We talked baseball, a little football, and cars. Kent and his dad drifted over into crops, weather and the cost of fertilizer. I followed it as well as I could and realized there was a lot more to farming than plowing, planting, harvesting, and selling. Politics was too depressing so we steered clear of that. I got the impression that Ron was an old-school, down to earth, let's-take-it-a-step-at-a-time conservative, which was fine by me. I understand that kind of conservatism.

We watched the 10 o'clock news and Ron rose, cracked his back and said good-night. Kent told him, told me for that matter, we'd be leaving in the morning. We agreed to have breakfast first.

Kent gave me a sweet, gentle blow-job (apparently his face wasn't too sore after all) and we fell asleep wedged into one of the twin beds. I got up early, or thought I did. Ron was already at the table having coffee. He gave me leave to make breakfast. I don't know if he was waiting, or if it was by chance, but Kent came down, all rumpled-headed and sexy as fuck, just as the biscuits came out of the oven.

Ron mentioned again that Brad had been a helluva good man but he wasn't sure he could make biscuits.

Another standing bath for Kent, hand job included, then changing those damn bandages and we were on our way.

When Ron tosses a hand in the air and turns to go back inside I feel a sudden, and surprising, sadness. I'd never known my own father.

"Your dad is top shelf, buddy. Top shelf."

"Yeah, he is." Kent turns slightly to face me. "Sorry, he brought up Brad."

"Quit being sorry all the damn time, Jesus. He told me Brad was a 'helluva' guy when he was showing me around."

"He did?"

"Yeah," I glance over at him. "Didn't you know that, not that he'd told me, but didn't you know how much your dad liked Brad?"

Kent pulls at his lower lip, then lowers his hand to look at the bandages. "I'm not sure," he says, shaking his head. "I knew he didn't dislike him. He wouldn't have been rude, like mom, but I'd have known if he hadn't liked him." Out of the corner of my eye I see him looking at me. "Us Tennessee farm boys aren't overly demonstrative."

"Uh, right. I have not noticed you to be very stingy with your emotions."

"Ah, but I'm a gay Tennessee farm boy. We're different."

"Maybe, but maybe not as much as you think, or maybe your dad learned something from Brad's passing. He told me he thought I'd do right by you."

"Really?"

I nod.

"He's a pretty smart man, my dad."

"Yup, you got that right."

"I'm sor..."

"Kent, I swear, I think I'll pound my head on the steering wheel if you're getting ready to tell me you're 'sorry' about something."

"Matt was right. You are a bit on the harsh side," he tells me. I glance to make sure he's smiling. "I'd rub your head if I didn't have all this shit wrapped around my hands," he continues. "I wish my mom had been nicer. How about that way of expressing my regret? Is that acceptable or is it too close to 'sorry' still?"

"I had no idea you could be this exasperating," I sigh, then smile so he knows I mean it but that I'm okay with it as well. "Don't sweat it. Ron says she's mostly upset that she thinks she won't have an entry in the cutest grandbaby contest."

"That's a big part of it."

"Did you ever consider adopting, or a surrogate, with Brad?"

"We never got around to talking about it."

That's strange, I think to myself. They were together eight years.

"I never brought it up because I knew he didn't want to."

Son of a bitchin' damn mind reader. "Are you sure about that?"

"Oh, yeah. Brad was a have fun while you can sort of guy. I wondered sometimes if, somehow, he knew he didn't have as much time as most of us. You ever see those tee shirts that say 'carpe the diem outta this shit'? That would have been perfect for Brad."

"What about you? What did you want?"

"I wanted kids, or at least a kid."

"'Wanted?' Bud, you're only in your mid-thirties. The option is not in the past, not by a long shot."

I feel his gaze on the side of my face. Maybe I'm pushing a little too hard.

"What about you? You got Liam. You ever think about having more kids. You're only a few years older than me, kids are still an option for you as well."

I run over the past few days in my head. For the life of me, I can't recall if the subject of me trying to get Glenna pregnant ever came up around Kent.

"You know Glenna and Leon have been trying to have a baby?"

I see him shrug. What does a shrug mean?

"You remember those dreams we talked about?"

He nods. For a moment I think he's going to say something but he doesn't.

"We had one, Leon, Glenna and I, that, uh, well, it seemed to suggest that I should sleep with Glenna, to, you know, to get her pregnant."

"You are kidding me, aren't you? You've been having sex with Glenna?"

"No, I had sex with her once and it was before I'd ever done more than think you were awfully damn cute."

"Did it work?"

It's my turn to shrug. "She thinks it did but, it's been less than two weeks ago. Can you tell that soon?"

"I'm not sure. I don't do OB. Less than two weeks? Really?" He shakes his head. "That's right though." He leans his head back against the window. "Wow."

"I never knew my dad," I tell him, changing the subject. "I'd like to imagine he was like your dad but that seems unlikely. If he'd been like your dad, he wouldn't have walked away."

"So, you may be having another kid." Kent, it would appear, is not ready to change the subject.

"He won't be mine. Leon will be his dad. That part was very clear in the dream." I mentally smack myself in the head, why am I being coy? "I wouldn't mind another kid. As hard as it is, and as badly as I may have fuck it up at times, I love being a dad. And you," I take my eyes off the road to make sure he's looking at me, "would make a great father. If you want a kid, you should have one. Adopt. Surrogate. It doesn't matter."

"I can't have a kid. How?"

"Why not?"

"I work, for one thing."

"So, do most parents, especially single parents."

"I can't afford a surrogate. That runs upward of fifty-, sixty-thousand dollars."

"Baloney, buddy. How much you owe on that condo?"

He looks at his feet.

"Nothing?" I ask, shocked.

"Brad had money," he confesses.

"Nothing wrong with that. You said you don't like the place. Sell it. You can find a nice place and easily have enough left over for a surrogate."

"Randy, I really don't want to talk about this right now. Okay? I mean, we've barely spent a week together and you want to talk about me having a kid?"

"Carpe diem, mother fucker." I risk another glance. "Seriously, whatever happens between the two of us, you having a kid or not having a kid, is not a factor. If you and Brad had had a kid, I'd still be sitting here, driving your ass back from visiting your folks. All I'm saying is that there is never a best time to start a family. There're worse times, for sure, but never a best time. If having a child is something you've always dreamed of, count your damn blessings and make it happen. You have the resources, you have family, you have friends. What you don't have are reasons not to."

He turns to look out the window.

"You missed a turn," he tells me. "We're going to end up in Virginia at this rate."

"I like scenic routes. Only thing is, then I'll leave it alone, make sure it's what you want and not just something you think will make everything magically better with your mom."

"I'm not stupid, Randy. Take the next road to the left."

We steer clear of deep conversation the rest of the trip. We only stop once for gas, some snacks and to take a leak. Kent is appalled by my fondness for Corn Nuts.

It's not a deal breaker.

***

"Yeah, they got back this evening. I'll head back tomorrow."

"That's fucking awesome, dude, baller," Matt chirps into the phone.

"You're just tired of having to do all the work around there."

"Yeah, right. Bitch, I'll smack you when you get back for that. Seriously, dude, between your mom, Rosalita, and Glenna, all I've been doing is swimming and keeping an eye on Fernando. Dude, he's worse than Leon's workouts, watching out for that little dude is totally exhausting."

"Well, if you're exhausted, what's the point of me driving all the way back down there? I might as well stay here and help dad with Kent."

"Harsh, bro. Fucking harsh. I'll never be that exhausted. Hey, dude, don't forget that dildo. That shit was hot."

"You'd rather have a dildo than my dick?"

"What? No! But I could be sucking your dick and you could still fuck me, you know, shit like that."

"Oh, yeah, right, shit like that."

"Liam, I miss you."

The faux surfer dude is gone. It's just Matt speaking and Liam knows it.

"I miss you, too. I'll see you tomorrow sometime. Don't let Fernando wear you down too much."

"He won't. It fucking kills me that he won't know his dad. Poor little fucker."

"Yeah, that sucks. I don't mean to sound, like, um, I don't care. It's just that it, well, sucks, big time."

"Yeah, big time is right. Dude, I don't know if I'll be able to sleep tonight. I was sure your dad and Kent would be gone for fucking weeks or something."

"Me too. I'll see you tomorrow." Liam swallows. "Love you." The words sound strange, hanging there in the air, between his lips and the phone. He's only said them to his mom or his dad, except the one time with Matt.

"Yeah, I think you do. I think I do, too. Fucking weird, huh?"

"Fucking weird."