Life some assembly requi.., p.31
Life, Some Assembly Required, page 31
“It had its moments,” he said blandly.
“What was the bride’s dress like?”
“Um, it was white? And long?”
Mark snorted. “Torey, he doesn’t care about dresses.”
“Well, some guys do. Like, especially gay guys. There’s this show about wedding dresses on TV, and the person who does most of the fitting and choosing is a guy.”
Ryan decided to be amused. “That’s stereotyping, Torey. Imagine your dad picking out a wedding dress.”
“For himself?” Torey held in a laugh for a second, then let it out. “Okay, maybe not. Do you have pictures?”
“A couple.” He thought for a second about whether there were any she shouldn’t see, but he hadn’t taken fun pictures of John this trip. “Check my phone.” Most of them would be Grace’s shots of Drew’s two boys, but she’d sent a couple of Anne and Brent. He figured there would be a few thousand official wedding pictures coming his way eventually, if he was still persona grata enough to be on the mailing list.
Torey fished his phone out of his shirt pocket and flipped through it. “Those are Connor and, um, whatisname?”
“Logan. Yes.”
“They’re kind of our cousins now, in a way. Right?”
“I guess so.” Drew and Grace would love Torey, he was sure.
“Oh, there’s the bride.” Torey squinted at the screen. “At least she’s not wearing strapless like every other bride for the last five years. She looks nice. I like her face.”
“She was… really great.” Better than half his own family.
He’d been careless with his voice. Torey lowered the phone and looked at him. “Was someone not great?”
“Well, you know how it is. I rub my brother the wrong way sometimes. Siblings can be like that.”
Mark muttered, “So here we are getting another sister. Yay.”
Torey said, “At least it’s not another brother.” She looked back at Ryan as they stopped at a light, her expression older than her years. “Is it because you’re gay?”
Mark looked up too. “Was it Brent?”
Ryan hesitated, but the kids were teens, and especially if Torey was bi or lesbian, she had a right not to have things too sugar-coated. “It was mostly the parents of the bride. They’re older, they live in small-town Texas, they probably don’t realize they even know any gay people. They have these prejudices. And Brent didn’t want to fight with his in-laws at his wedding.” In retrospect it sounded less painful than it had felt. “Which isn’t unreasonable, really.”
“Was anybody mean to Dad?” Torey asked in a low voice.
“Not mean, really. He and I just didn’t hang around the people who weren’t cool with us.”
“I worry sometimes.” Torey sounded sad. “Dad’s just, well, he thinks good of everyone and he doesn’t expect people to be less nice than he is. So with you guys being gay, I know you’ll just tell them you don’t care what they say, but it could hurt Dad.”
“I think your dad’s tougher than you realize,” Ryan said, despite feeling that she’d found a truth, albeit sideways. John did think the best of everyone. While being kicked out for being queer hadn’t seemed to faze him, it'd hurt Ryan to watch it. Plus that little scene at the wedding had burned even worse because John had seen Ryan’s family disappoint the hell out of him. “We’re probably more worried about him than we have to be.”
“You too?”
“Yeah. A bit. Not because he really needs it, though.”
Mark said, “I thought Brent was an asshole. Drew is cool, though.”
Ryan said, “Drew is cool, and so’s his wife, Grace.” He let the first part of that go. He wasn’t up to policing language or defending Brent right now. “The kids are fun too.” He smiled. “In fact, we got outed because one of the little boys simply happened to say, ‘Uncle John is Uncle Ryan’s boyfriend.’ For some people, it’s just that ordinary.”
Torey laughed. “That’s great.” And then repeated more quietly. “That is great.”
“Yeah. Anyway, I think Dad and Brent are getting more comfortable with the idea. And things are changing. In another ten years, those older folks are going to look like dinosaurs.” Hopefully.
“And what about Mom?” Mark said. “You think she’ll get over herself too and forget that gay equals deviant child molester?”
Ryan wanted to curse as he felt Torey actually shrinking back in her seat. “That was Brandon’s line,” he said as mildly as he could. “And yes, I think your mother’s attitude won’t survive ten years around your father as a gay man. She’s like a knife, but he’s a rock. We know who wins that contest, right?”
Torey muttered, “Ten years.”
“Or less. Maybe a lot less.” Ten years was forever to a teenager, of course. He was screwing everything up lately. “I’ll help. I’ll be like abrasive sandpaper, rub that edge right off her.”
At least that made Torey laugh. “I can imagine it.”
“I’m good at being abrasive.” He turned into the parking area. “And here we are. No more worries today, right? Let’s go see a baby.”
The gift shop in the hospital lobby was closed, but there was a novel kind of gift vending machine outside it. Since none of them had remembered to bring any of the dozen things they’d already bought for the baby, Ryan let Torey persuade him to pause and drain his credit card for a bunch of silk daffodils and a fuzzy teddy bear.
“Not a pink bear,” Mark groaned as Torey hovered over the vending buttons. “Come on, Tor!”
“She is a girl.” But Torey glanced at Ryan, then hit the controls for the rainbow one.
Ryan shrugged. “Works for me. Let’s go.”
They located the maternity wing, and a nurse smiled and directed them to the room on the end. The kids hung back, so Ryan rapped on the door that stood ajar. “Hello?”
John looked up from a chair. “Ryan! Hey, kids.” He jumped up and came over, looking tired but happy. “Come on in.”
Torey brought the flowers over to her mother. “Hey, Mom, we got these.”
“How lovely. Thanks, honey.” Cynthia nodded at the bedside stand, then looked down at the bundle in her arms. “Can you set them there? I have my hands full.”
Ryan hung back, as first Torey and then Mark went to look at their new sister. From the little Ryan could make out, bald as an egg was about right. Otherwise, it was a baby. Cute and little, with a pug nose and eyes squinched shut. Cynthia was disheveled and tired looking, without her usual polish. She had little freckles of broken capillaries sprinkling her cheeks and forehead, but as she looked lovingly down at her new baby, she was softer and more attractive than Ryan had imagined she could be. For a moment, he finally saw what had appealed to John all those years ago.
John came over and slid an arm around his shoulders. “Thanks for taking care of the kids so I could be here for Cynthia.”
“No problem. Here, brought you the good coffee.” He passed over the thermos.
“My hero.” John kissed the side of his temple and set the thermos on a shelf. “I’m going to stick around for a bit. I’ve called in to get the day off.”
“I have to work. And I haven’t called the kids’ schools. Mark says no exams, so I said you might let them go in late today.”
John laughed happily. “I think we can manage that.”
Ryan lowered his voice. “It looks like the baby’s doing well.”
John matched his tone. “Yeah, pretty much. Likely there’ll be some problems, eyesight and so on. But she just has a tiny heart murmur they’re not too worried about and the rest of her physical was good, so it seems like the worst risks came out okay.”
Cynthia was unwrapping the infant for the kids to see her better. Torey leaned in close, reaching to touch one tiny hand. John shifted as if he might go look too, but Ryan leaned on him harder and added, barely above his breath, “The kids will be glad she’s okay, for her sake and for helping them keep some of Cynthia’s attention and yours.”
John looked away from the pretty tableau to stare at him. “You think they’re worried about that?”
“Oh yeah.”
John squeezed his shoulder, then stepped away. “Hey, Torey, Mark. It’s good to see you guys. Did you have fun with Donna?”
Torey smiled at him, then came and hugged him. “Hey, Dad. I like Donna lots. She baked muffins.”
“She did?” Ryan said. “How come I didn’t see any?”
Mark grinned over at him. “Well she just made six, and…”
“Don’t tell me. You ate them all.”
Torey laughed, still hugged in against John. “Well, it was just two each.”
Cynthia said, “Ryan, tell your friend how much I appreciate her help. She was very kind.”
“I’ll let her know.” He cleared his throat. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks.” Cynthia looked at Torey. “Honey, if you want to sit in the chair, you can hold the baby.”
“Really?” Torey hurried over and sat down. “How? What do I do?”
“Here, I’ll help.” John went to the bed to tuck the baby into her blanket and then lifted her skillfully from Cynthia’s hands. “Hold your arms lower, sweetheart, and I’ll put her in your lap.”
Ryan backed up a couple of steps. “Well, I really should be heading to work.”
John glanced over, the infant snuggled in his arms. “Do you want to hold her before you go?”
“Not right now. I’ve had the baby-burp-and-poo-explosion happen to me once with Logan, and I wouldn’t have time to change.”
John frowned but said, “Okay. Maybe tonight, then. Have a good day.”
“You guys too.” Ryan backed up more.
He stood outside the doorway of the room for a minute. John eased the baby into Torey’s lap, showing her how to support the little head. Mark was paying attention too. They bent together over the infant, identical expressions of tender concentration on all three. Ryan could see an echo of John in both his children’s faces.
A nurse stopped in the hallway behind him. “Such a lovely family. You can tell that man is a wonderful father.”
“Yes,” Ryan agreed. “He is.”
“That’s one of the best things about this job,” the nurse said. “Watching babies being born into families that will really love and want them.”
“I can imagine,” Ryan murmured. He stood there awhile longer. After Torey had held the baby, Mark was convinced to take a turn. John juggled the newborn with such practiced hands as one teenager got up and the other sat down. Cynthia looked on, smiling, for once silent, letting John give directions. They moved together in harmony, orbiting around the wonder of the new child.
He eventually realized he was still hovering outside the room because he was waiting for John to look up, for one of them to glance over and see him. It was so fucking juvenile to wish that their little circle didn’t seem so perfect and complete, to want John to feel the lack and come after him. Stupid! He’d said he was going off to work, and for all John knew, he was already out of the building.
He should be out of the building.
It was good the baby would be loved. Every child should have that.
Eventually it really was past time to get his ass to the car and head to his job. So he turned silently and left.
Chapter Seventeen
As he drove, Ryan tried to get his mind off the scene at the hospital and think ahead to his work. It was harder than he’d have liked. As a summer job, his was, well, okay. Not bad but not the externship he’d hoped for.
He was working in a medical practice, so it would help his résumé. It brought in a bit of cash, and now and then he got to listen in on clinical discussions. One of the six pediatricians really liked him, and would talk about her cases in general terms when she spotted him, which was nice. She’d spent ten minutes telling him her viewpoint in the debate over using antibiotics for simple ear infections, and he’d appreciated that. But mostly he was somewhere between nursing aid and janitor.
Today, everyone was running late from the word go, and the atmosphere was stressed. They seemed to have way more than their usual allotment of crying babies, and every toddler in the waiting room was hair-trigger primed for a tantrum. He circled around, cleaning exam rooms, sterilizing surfaces and toys, pulling fresh paper onto the exam tables, making sure there were new ear cones in the holders. And then doing it again.
His hands were powdery from the gloves he wore, his knee ached more than normal, and of course that made it the day he had to get down on his hands and knees again and again to pick stuff up. He struggled through it by using the furniture to haul himself back to his feet. He was not going to give in and get his cane. They’d asked at his interview if the job would be too much for his leg, and he’d be damned if it was.
The staff break room was in the back and blessedly quiet. When he took his hospital-lobby-bought lunch there, his favorite pediatrician was seated at the table. Dr. Bocovich glanced up at him from her phone, where she was texting one-handed while eating a sandwich with the other. She waved at a chair with her ham-on-rye. “You look tired, Ryan. Have a seat.”
“Thanks.” He sat down and unwrapped his vending machine version. The bread was sticky, the ham an unreal shade of pink, the lettuce limp. He sighed, tossed it over into the trash and tore open a pack of cookies.
Dr. Bocovich laughed. “A day when only simple carbs will do, eh?”
“Yep.” He stuffed one in his mouth. “I’m not sure that was edible anyway. I don’t need food poisoning on top of everything.”
“Every what?” She finished texting and stuck her phone back into her pocket.
He shrugged. He wasn’t about to whine to one of his bosses.
She said, “It’s been a real Monday morning, eh? All the parents who didn’t want to head to Urgent Care on the weekend are here with their poor, fussy, ear-achy kids.”
“I guess.”
“And no time for anything except scrambling round playing catch up and clean up.” She eyed him and took a bigger bite of her sandwich. “You look a bit ragged.”
“I don’t mind,” he said. “That’s the job. It was just a long weekend. A wedding and a new baby in the family.”
“Oh.” She smiled. “Congratulations. That’s lovely. If tiring.”
“Yeah.” He hesitated, then said, “The baby has Down syndrome.”
“Ah, that’s harder. Most DS kids do great, though.”
“Mm.” He bit another cookie. “I wondered. Do you know any gay pediatricians?”
“That’s a bit non sequitur.” She hesitated. “Doctors’ personal lives are their own, but yes, of course there are some.”
“Do you think it makes it harder? I mean, are parents really going to care who their kid’s doctor sleeps with, as long as they’re consenting adults?”
She leaned her elbows on the table and looked at him. “It shouldn’t matter, but you know some of them would care. If they find out about it. Is this as personal as it sounds?”
“Maybe.” Of course he hadn’t been asked about his orientation when he applied for the job, and he hadn’t told. But if he didn’t ask his questions, he’d never know the answers. “Yeah. That baby? It’s my partner’s ex-wife’s. My male partner’s. And I’d planned to do pediatric neurology, and it shouldn’t matter that I’m gay, but we’ve already come up against all kinds of stupid people and…” He stopped. For some reason, here, in the middle of work in front of his boss, of all people, he was close to tears. It made no sense whatsoever. “Forget it. I’m sorry. I should get back to work.”
Doctor Bocovich put her hand on his arm as he stood. “Ryan. You’re undoubtedly the brightest and most mature student we’ve had working in this office. That’s obvious even after just a week. You’ll be an excellent neurologist, if that’s where your interests lie.”
He managed a gruff, “Thanks.”
“If you’re asking, will it be harder to work in specialty pediatrics as an out gay man? Yes, I’m sure it will. I assume you do plan to be out?”
He took a breath, feeling steadier. “Yes. I don’t need to flaunt it. I won’t put rainbow flags all over my office. But I also don’t want to hide it. Not just for the stress and the lying but, um, we have teenagers. I want them to know this is something worth telling the truth about, not something to hide like I’m ashamed of it.”
“That’s admirable.”
He shrugged. “I’m a bad liar anyway. I tend to let the chips fly when I’m pushed to the wall. Better to start with the truth.”
She met his gaze steadily. “You have a few years to decide. This country, at least, is getting more LGBT-friendly all the time. There are definitely other gay doctors who aren’t totally closeted. I might be able to get you in touch with a couple who’re in private practice.”
“If you think they’d be okay with that.” He really wanted to talk to someone further down this road than he was. “That would be great.”
“I’ll ask. But there’ll always be fools and bigots, in and out of the clinic. Hell, we occasionally have a parent who doesn’t want Lina touching their child, because she has dark skin.”
“What do you do then?”
“We try to persuade them that she’s an excellent nurse. Sometimes that works. But people have a right to be comfortable with their medical provider.”
He bit his lip and nodded.
“The children come first. We accommodate the parents who think Dr. Kernos looks too young to know what she’s doing or don’t want a nurse like Mike, who’s a man. We tell them they may have to wait, or reschedule to get the provider they want. If they’re not too offensive about it, we offer them someone different.”
“And if they are offensive about it?”
“If it’s not an emergency, we can politely refuse their business. Part of our policy statement says we can refuse services to clients who are disrespectful or abusive to staff or other patients.”
“Have you ever done that? For being racist?”
“Maybe once a year or so, yes.”
