Sunday, November 26
(Gus)
"Ma. What're we doing for Thanksgiving? Same old?"
Ma's making a pumpkin pie. It's her pre-game warm up for the big show on Thursday. She does this every year. She bakes pumpkin pies starting the weekend before Thanksgiving and for about two weeks after. I eat it every day, morning, noon, and night. By the end of it, I've got the pumpkin shits and I can't even look at pie. That is, until the weekend before Thanksgiving rolls around again the next year and I'm standing here like a fucking pumpkin addict, going through withdrawal, shakes and everything, waiting for the first one to roll out of the oven so I can take half, put six scoops of whipped cream on it, and dig in. Yeah, I'm a glutton for pumpkin punishment.
"That was the plan. Same old," she says teasingly. "Is that okay? Did you want to try something new this year?" I can almost hear the hope in her voice. She wants me to suggest something different so she doesn't have to think about all the Thanksgivings of old with Bright Side and Gracie.
"I was thinking maybe we could invite Keller and Stella to come out and chill with us?"
She turns toward me. She likes the idea; I can see it in her eyes. "Have you talked to Keller, Gus?"
I shake my head. "Nah, I tried a few months back, but we never connected. You?"
"Well, I think that's a fabulous idea." She just avoided my question, which tells me yes, she has talked to him. Oh course she has, because Ma is a grade A human being.
"Awesome. I'll go give him a call."
When I finally get to my room to bring up his name on my phone, it takes me ten minutes to work up the courage to press "call." It's eight-thirty in Minnesota; I hope I don't wake up Stella if she's already in bed.
There's an answer after the third ring. I take a deep breath anticipating his voice and the rush of emotion that's sure to come with it.
Instead, a tiny, sweet, sleepy voice answers. "Hello?" It's his daughter, Stella.
"Well hello, Miss Stella." All the tension drains out of me.
"Who is this?" she asks, like she's screening his calls.
"This is Gus. Do you remember me, Stella?"
She yells, "Daddy, Gus is on the phone!" And then at normal volume, she says, "Daddy's in the bathroom. He's just goin' poop."
I laugh and it feels so damn good. "Ah, well, a man's gotta do that every once in a while. How are you doin' Stella?"
"Good. I go to pre-school, Gus. My teacher's name is Miss Cooper. She's nice, but she smells like apricot jelly. I don't like apricot jelly. My papa in Chicago likes it though. He puts it on toast."
This makes me laugh some more. I love little kids; every damn thing that comes out of their mouths is innocent and unfiltered. "How's your turtle?"
Her voice brightens. "Miss Higgins is good. She loves Minnesota." She pauses and I can hear Keller in the background talking to her. "Just a minute, Daddy. I'm not done talking to Gus." And then she's talking to me again. "Are you in California with your mommy, Gus?"
"I am. It's nice and sunny here. You should come out and visit, Stella."
She's talking to Keller now. "Gus says I should come out and visit him in California. Can I go? Pleeeeeease."
I can faintly hear Keller now, trying to coax her. "Let me talk it over with Gus, baby girl, and I'll let you know. Can I have the phone please?"
"Just a minute, Daddy, I need to say bye." And then she's back to me. "Daddy needs to talk to you, Gus. Bye."
"Bye, Stella. Tell Miss Higgins hi."
"Okay."
Keller sounds a little tentative, but slightly amused, when he gets on the line. "Hey, Gus. Thanks for letting Stella entertain you for a few minutes."
"Yeah, she told me you were in the john building a log cabin."
He snorts out a laugh and it sounds relieved and embarrassed, like he's as happy as I am that this conversation is easy so far. "Please tell me my little girl did not use those exact words."
"Nah, she said you were in the bathroom goin' poop."
He sighs. "God, that's really not any better, is it?"
And just like that we're both relaxed. "She's awesome, Keller."
"Yeah, she is awesome. I have to admit I'm almost completely desensitized to any kind of embarrassment at this point. Little kids' honesty hardens you, man. There's nowhere to hide and it comes out at the most inopportune times."
I smile, because he sounds good. "You can't go wrong with straight-up honesty."
"So, what have you been up to, Gus? I think about you all the time and I have every intention to call, and then I have homework, or work, or Stella's ballet practice. Something always comes up. I'm sorry we haven't talked." He means it.
"No worries. I'm in the same good intention boat. That's kinda why I'm calling. Ma and I were just talking and wondered if you and Stella had plans for Thanksgiving this year? I thought maybe we could rekindle the bromance in San Diego." Last year I surprised Bright Side in Minnesota for Thanksgiving, with Keller's help. He called me and planned it all. I teased her that I was stealing her man away.
"The sacred bromance." He stops and laughs again remembering. "Damn, that's tempting. You're a good-looking guy." He hasn't lost his sense of humor. I'm glad. "But, I think Stella and I are just going to hang out here in Grant. My father might come up if he can get some time off."
I try again. "You should come out. If this is about money, I've got it covered."
"Gus, man, that's really nice of you to offer, but I can't accept that."
"Sure, you can. You just say, 'Yeah, Gus, we'd love to spend Thanksgiving with you and your mom. That sounds like a righteous fucking way to spend the holiday.' It's as easy as that. And then you tell me what time you can fly out and when you have to be home, and you let me take care of the rest." I don't know why, but I need him to give this to me. I need to see him and Stella to help me deal.
"Gus, it's too much. I just can't."
I sigh. "What if I told you you're gonna make Ma cry if she can't see Stella? Like, to the point of goddamn sobbing. I'm not kidding, she'll throw a full-on shit fit. It'll be ugly, dude. I'll be forced to record it and send the video to you. You'll probably feel guilty for the rest of your days. The brutal type of soul-searing guilt."
He's quiet. I can tell he's about to give in.
"C'mon dude. We really want to see you guys." It's as sincere as I can possibly be.
He sighs. "We're not going unless you let me pay you back someday."
I smile because I would never accept his money. "Sure, whatever you want."
He sighs again. "You're really sure you want to do this? It's going to be expensive."
"Don't have anything else to spend my money on, dude." I don't.
He's quiet and then he gives in. "Okay. We'd really like that. I could use a break for a few days." He sounds exhausted all of a sudden.
"Excellent. Text me times that work for your flights and I'll make it happen."
"Thanks, Gus."
No, thank you. "It'll be great to see you guys."
"Later, man."
"Later."
I don't know why, but I feel like a goddamn weight's been lifted off my shoulders.