Duck Duck Goose Redux

by Cole Parker

colepark@gmail.com

Has it really been 25 years since I wrote about Kevin and me, about how I finally woke up during my first year of college and admitted my love for Kevin? 

But that time has passed, all those many years. They’ve been busy years, and now and then I’ve had the urge to add to that tale, to tell what became of those two boys, what life had been like for them. There’s a reason I’m doing it now. I’ll come to that. First, I believe the right thing to do is to briefly highlight how the years that followed the ones I wrote about eventuated. How Kevin and I prospered. 

I guess the best place to start would be what happened after that Thanksgiving when Kevin and I were in his bed, and my whole world was turned from darkly clouded to sunny side up.

Kevin and I stayed in bed and talked for a while, then, realizing the time, scrambled to get up and get dressed to help his mom make our Thanksgiving dinner. I thought we did a good job of acting normal, but his mom was watching us and then smiled. 

“Kevin,” she said, “something’s happening. You’re alive again. Want to fill me in?”

And so we did. She was delighted. All three of us talked, and when it was time for bed, Kevin and I did what we’d avoided doing all those years and had only done earlier that day. After that we found time to talk some more, and we didn’t sleep until well into the early hours of the morning. We convinced each other that we weren’t going to let my being at college for one year make any difference to us at all.

He was accepted at Pomona and joined me there the next year. We roomed together from then on till I graduated.

He graduated from Pomona, too, one year behind me. I transferred to Stanford for my graduate work, and Kevin got accepted into their prestigious law school one year later. 

When it became legal for two men to marry, we did. Becky was the best man for us both. Our parents were there—except for Kevin’s father. It was a small affair, but a very personal one.

After earning my PhD in education, I got a job as a teacher at a middle school in Palo Alto and taught there for a year while Kevin was finishing his law degree; he graduated first in his class, and to do that at Stanford, you have to be really smart and really dedicated. He was both, and he passed the California bar exam on his first try. Not many do that. He had no problem getting hired by a law firm also in Palo Alto. I continued to teach there until I was offered and accepted a position as principal at a middle school in a different city. With his credentials, Kevin got a job at a law firm in the same city where I was headed. We weren’t going to be apart any longer. There are lots of schools and lots of law firms, and we knew if we tried hard enough, we could both get hired in the same city if we needed to move to advance in our careers.

We were still in contact with Becky during that time. We both were Becky’s best friend, and she was ours. She’d become a lawyer, too, just like her father. I told Becky and Kevin that it was because of me they were successful lawyers. It was because I’d gotten them together, and then taught them how to dispute things at lunch every day in high school, and how the practice they’d had arguing with each other back then had resulted in them being able to argue so effectively now before a judge.

They both ignored me. I was accustomed to that. There was a bond between those two like there was a bond between Becky and me. Different, but the same. We were important to each other, and we felt we would always find a way to be together. Life was fuller that way.

We kept in touch with her, getting together at least a couple of times every year. Then, one day, Becky told us about an opening in her law firm, which was actually her dad’s firm; he was a partner. She also said there was an opening for a principal at the same middle school that I’d attended. Kevin and I both applied for those jobs, and we were both successful. We moved back home. We did it to be closer to Becky. They weren’t career advancements for us; they were to reunite the three of us, and that was reason enough.

Kevin became the star litigator at his firm, and was made a partner soon after turning thirty. It was a couple of years after that, but when Principal Cochran retired, I applied for his position at our old high school. I got the job. My dad was still the gym teacher. I was now his boss. Some people had opinions about that, and others liked to tease him about it, but the two of us were both happy with the situation. 

I began my work as a high school principal, and Kevin’s reputation as a lawyer was growing by the day. We had an apartment together. We’d been together as a married couple for a few years by then. Things were going well for us, but not just because of my job, or his. We had a nice apartment, but I think we could have lived in a tent in the rain and it would have been perfect because we had each other. He was the love of my life, and if I had him, I had everything I wanted or needed.

We were living together, loving each other, and Becky was spending a lot of time with us. She’d not been as successful as we’d been. She’d become a lawyer but hadn’t found the work as satisfying as she’d expected it to be. She’d discovered she didn’t have the ambition to strive for the top. She’d dated some, but had found the dates uninspiring. When we tried to support her and rally her overall mood, she’d shake her head at us.

“I’m happy, guys. Now that you’re back, and we’re spending time together, I’ve found what I was missing. High school with you guys was the best time of my life. You two are the best friends I could ever hope for. I love you guys, and I don’t find that love in anything else I’ve done. Being with you makes me whole. Don’t worry about me. My life’s fine, even if it’s not what you think it should be. I don’t want what you have. Everyone has different needs.”

 We’d both tried to help her find a man, thinking that might be what we felt she was missing. It seemed unfair we had so much happiness with each other, and she didn’t have a partner with whom to find that same joy. 

We spoke to her about dating. She was very emphatic. “Guys, I’ve loved two men in my life. Totally loved them. Two. Matt, Kevin, you’re the two. I’ve had boyfriends, but none of them came close to being like either of you. I always compared my boyfriends to you, and they’ve always came up short. I finally realized I’d never be happy marrying any one of them. I also knew I couldn’t be with either of you. I’d have been over the top ecstatic if I could have either of you that way, but you had each other, and I wasn’t going to try to interfere with that. I couldn’t interfere with that. But I knew I wouldn’t be happy with anyone else, either.”

She took a moment to stare at each of us, then said, “You two are so happy. You’re successful in careers which you love, and you have each other. I didn’t know anyone could love someone the way you two do. I love being with you, feeling the love coming from you for each other and for me, too. I know you love me to an extent, and that you want to spend time with me, and for me, that’s enough.”

I was moved by the emotion she had in her voice. I told her yes, certainly, we did love her, but it wasn’t the kind of love that was the foundation established between partners. I told her our life was more interesting and exciting with her in it. That was how we’d gotten through high school—the three of us together—and now that we were back in town, we wanted to keep our trio together.

She did continue to date, probably because we kept pushing her to do so. We wanted her to have what we had, even if she said she was fine without it. We were trying to find her a mate. Finally, she told us it wasn’t going to work, that she’d continue to humor us, but that was all it was. After each date, she’d come over and flop on our couch and grouse about how the current man left her wanting. She ended up sleeping on our couch then. She spent so much time with us that one night we showed her where we’d cleaned out our home office and made it into a bedroom, and told her she might as well move in with us and save the money she was spending on her own apartment. 

Becky did it. We knew she wanted to be as close as possible to us, and this wasn’t a sacrifice for us at all. We wanted her more than the office.

So that was when a new phase of our lives began. The three of us were back together, for good as far as we knew, and we were all pleased about that.

Becky and Kevin and I were supremely happy, living in that apartment together. Our lives were full of laughter. Kevin and Becky still fought like tigers, grinning tigers, and made preposterous statements and stretched logic to its limits, trying to beat the other with argument and cunning, often lying through their teeth, and I laughed so hard that I cried at times.

My nights with Kevin were heaven. Our love for each other consumed us; it was transcendent. Kevin had been right all along, even when he was 14. Sex just made everything better.

While we were happy and content, both Kevin and I remained concerned about Becky. We thought she should have a man in her life. She told us she already had two, and each was better than any other man alive.

I kidded her once, only once, when we were alone. I told her it wasn’t possible for her to love both of us the same, that she must love one of us just a little more than the other. I was teasing and expected a sarcastic rejoinder to come back at me; heaven knows, she was an expert at that. But I must have caught her at just the right moment, or the wrong one, because that wasn’t what I got. Instead, I got an enigmatic smile from her. She looked at me without saying a word, and gave me that private smile and up and left the room. I never said anything like that again.

Kevin and I finally stopped setting her up with dates. She seemed happy, just living with the two of us. But we never stopped feeling a little guilty. We thought we had complete lives and didn’t think she did. We wanted her to have what we had. She never complained; she told us everything was perfect, just as it was.

But then, once when we were eating dinner in a restaurant, I saw her eyes linger on a baby at the next table. And it hit me. I waited till we were home, the three of us, and I asked her if she regretted not having a child.

We were honest with each other. You can’t live with people you love and not be honest. Love diminishes over time without honesty. She didn’t answer my question right away, but not answering was another way not to be honest, so she finally did. She said she’d been feeling that way for about a year, that she wanted a baby. She trivialized it, said it was just a biological urge, and would go away in time, and that she was ignoring it and we should too.

When we were in bed that night, I discussed it with Kevin. I asked him what he thought about having a baby in the house. He asked me what I thought. We both thought the same. We both felt raising a child, our child, would make our perfect lives even better. And if it was Becky’s child, better would become best.

We were a threesome and a partnership in everything but sex. We weren’t going to discuss this without her, and so the next morning we did. We did a lot of talking. Her mood immediately changed; a baby had been impossible, and so she’d trivialized her wish for one. Now that we were discussing one and it was something that we all wanted, her wish was suddenly a need. Her enthusiasm became fervor.

We just had to work out the details. And there were certainly those to discuss.

They were long discussions, and a lot of energy and passion went into them, and, because it was us, a lot of humor, too. And when we’d decided, there was even more love than there had been before.

Becky had matured, like Kevin and I had. She didn’t talk about sex much and certainly not like she had in high school. Back then, I’d caught her a couple of time sticking her head in the bathroom to take a peek when either of us was showering. That was the stuff of teenagers. I didn’t know if she was still curious about what we looked like naked. She probably was. But that kind of inappropriate snooping was something of the past. I was still curious about her, though. We were healthy young adults. Kevin and I were both sad that she didn’t have a healthy sex life. We’d seldom talked about it with her, but when we had, she’d said she was fine without it. She said living with the two of us was the trade off, and it was one she’d make every day of the week and never regret.

But, during our discussions of the baby, and making it, this and all aspects of sex came up. They had to. She said she wasn’t a virgin, but that she hadn’t had a lot of experience and what she had hadn’t been all that wonderful. And she admitted she was curious about us, about what sex would be like with either of us. But she said it was simply curiosity and not something that needed to be satisfied.

We admitted we were curious about her, too. And we decided that curiosity was going to be satisfied.

We all wanted the baby to be our baby. All three of ours. We talked about how we’d do that. We planned it. Even though we knew the biological facts of making a baby, we were more interested in the emotional ones, and the emotional ties that would be involved in making one. We discussed it, and agreed on it. And one night, we went ahead with our plan, crazy as many would regard it. I remembered that part very clearly.

Making a baby is supposed to be a hit or miss proposition, and the odds of conception were never supposed to be high from one coupling. We didn’t feel that way. We all felt that, because we were doing it out of love, we’d start a child that night, and we all believed it. If love mattered, this had to work. It was all about love. Not the often frivolous love teens express. This was mature, deep, abiding love, and we felt it would be rewarded.

We’d decided—it was one of the things we’d spoken of in advance—that we’d do this once, only once. If it didn’t work, we’d find a different method. We would try again with our sperm intermingled, but it would be in a doctor’s clinic. We all felt one time doing this our way was the right thing to do, but once would be all.

The doctor’s clinic hadn’t been needed. In our one time together when Becky was at the proper time of the month for conception, all three of us had worked together, naked together for only that once, to bring each to the crest of the orgasmic mountain at the same moment. When we’d reached that point, Kevin and I both entered Becky, one after the other, just seconds before we reached climax. From that congress, Ben had been created. 

_____________

That brings this story to the point where everything changed for us, I guess what follows should be called the second part of our lives. Becky carried Ben to term and delivered him, and we all were involved to the extent we could be in raising him. Becky was still working for her dad’s law firm, but it was mostly legal research, which she was good at and which she could do from home. She was there with Ben full time, and Kevin and I got to be with him during the hours we weren’t at work.

Ben grew up with three parents, and all of us had an effect on him. Becky showed him eternal motherly love. Kevin taught him to be more rough and tumble than I ever was comfortable with, and to have fun, too, whenever possible. I taught him how to be serious and think things through without leaping onto the first idea that came into his head. I didn’t teach him that intentionally. He learned it by watching me. I don’t think it was any surprise that he was a very bright boy, which was obvious early on.

We didn’t know who his biological father was. We didn’t want to know. Yet we figured that someday Ben would ask. How would we answer? That was years ahead of us, and we never did get around to figuring it out.

And he did ask. We put him off, but knew the time was coming. And we still weren’t prepared.

We were in the living room, Becky, Ben and I. Ben looked at me with his huge brown eyes. Deep eyes. Expressive eyes that allowed you to look into his soul. Becky’s eyes. Ben was 16, and gangly as many boys are at that age. I thought him the handsomest boy I’d ever seen, but I suppose that’s what many fathers feel.

“So how about it? The full story about how you met Pop and fell in love with him? And discovered you were gay?” 

“That’s a long, long story. And you already know parts of it. We told you what was proper for your age when you asked.”

He’d wanted to know how he’d come to have two fathers. He’d asked before, of course, and we’d given him a short version, skipping most of the details, but at 16, he understood how the world worked better than he had earlier. He understood growing attachments kids his age started having. So now he wanted the full version of Kevin and me. He was still looking at me. He didn’t have the problem meeting other people’s eyes that I had when I was 16. Watching him, I saw his innate impishness creep into his eyes.

“I know you came home from college for Thanksgiving and Pop was in bed. But you stopped telling me about it then, just saying that’s when you two got together for good. So . . . what happened on Pop’s bed, after you told him you weren’t losing him to Timothy or anyone else. What happened then?”

He was artful and cunning and as appealing as ever. He was so hard to resist. My love for him was boundless.

“I’ve already talked about sex stuff too much to you, Ben. I know boys your age are curious, and Sex Ed only goes so far. But I don’t want to corrupt you.”

“You told me once that it took a long time for you and Pop to get together because you didn’t want to corrupt him. That didn’t work out well, did it? All the anguish you felt? Anyway, I don’t think that corrupting me is possible.”

“Ben?! Are you telling me you’ve already been corrupted?” My smile matched his. We had the same smile. 

I think Ben’s ability to argue had been gained through heredity. “Sons aren’t supposed to discuss their sex lives with their dads, Dad. I think it’s a rule or something. Plus it saves their dads some grief. Old people tend to be embarrassed and then get jealous because they waited longer to have sex than we do now.”

I ignored that. “And it’s okay if I go into the sordid details of what Kevin and I did on his bed that morning?”

“Sure. Dads are supposed to teach their sons about sex.”

“Only in an academic sort of way. And I already did that when you were 10.”

“I was 11, Dad.”

“Okay, so I was nervous and waited too long. It isn’t easy doing that. Wait till you have to. You’ll see.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Anyway, all you told me were the facts. What I want now is stuff that’s a lot more exciting than those were. Real stuff. About what you did and how you felt about it all. And everything that led up to that moment, too.”

I looked at him, looked at the smile on his face. “Ben, you’re just having fun here at my expense, aren’t you? You probably think of me as being an old, old man, but I’m not too old to remember how it was when I was your age. I remember distinctly not wanting to even think about Mom and Dad having sex. It was gross, thinking about that, and made me feel funny inside. I’m sure you don’t ever want to think about Kevin and me having sex.”

“Ewwwww! No, I don’t. That’s disgusting, and . . . NO! But this was when you were kids. If I think about a couple kids rolling around on a bed, that’s kind of exciting. Actually, it’s kind of hot. I just need to forget that they were you two guys.”

He was smiling when he said that, and I suspected that he was still trying to tease me. I smiled back at him, shook my head, and didn’t say a word.

He realized I wasn’t going to talk about that any longer, so refocused. He said, “Anyway, you’ve only told me a little part of you two meeting and falling in love and becoming a couple, and I want to hear the rest. You said you’d answer all my questions.”

Ben had asked me about my realizing I was gay, about getting to know and falling in love with Kevin, and about how we’d gotten together with Becky. He also had asked Becky, not Kevin or me, which one of us was his biological father, so I knew he was interested in that, too. When he was 10 he’d asked me about Kevin and me being gay, and when he was 13, he wanted to know about us becoming a couple and being his fathers. That was when Becky hadn’t answered his question about the identity of his father satisfactorily. He’d approached me, and I’d told him I’d tell him when he was sixteen. He’d celebrated his sixteenth birthday yesterday.

“I told you, your pop has to be here for the part of the story where you come into it. Anyway, I’m not sure you’re ready for the rest of it, the part about Becky and you. Why don’t we wait a couple more years?”

“You promised!”

“Yeah, you did,” said Becky. She was sitting on the chair next to us, grinning. Ben and I were on the couch. We all lived in the house I’d grown up in. Dad and Mom had sold it to us and moved to a smaller place when Mom had retired and sold her practice and Dad had reached mandatory retirement age. They still lived here in the city, but they’d felt this large house was a lot more suited to our needs than theirs; it was more house than they needed or wanted to take care of. It was just right for us. Both Kevin and I were in positions where having parties was expected, and this house had been built with that purpose in mind.

Becky grinned at me. She still loved making my life difficult. She still had the same gleam in her eyes now that she’d had when I’d first eaten lunch with her, all those years ago.

“See? Mom heard you. It’s two against one. Now tell me.”

“Okay, okay. Jeez! But you’ll have to wait till Kevin gets here for your last question. It’s his story as much as mine, and we agreed he’d talk to you about that.”

Ben could feel the emotion in my voice. He reached over and hugged me. Then he got up and hugged his mom, too. That was very much like Ben. He didn’t have the worries and self-constructed repressions I’d had at his age.

“Okay, tell me the rest,” he said, returning to the couch, “but start with what happened that Thanksgiving, when you were kids. You said it was the beginning.”

Becky grinned at me. “Well, there was a lot more that came before that, a whole lot, but I want to hear about what you did on the bed, too. Tell him everything.”

Becky was looking at me with her deep, dark eyes, and right then, looking at her sitting close to Ben, the resemblance was remarkable.

Ben made a face, wanting first to hear about our Thanksgiving activities, and I said, laughing, “Shut up, Becky. Ben, don’t worry, I’m not going to tell you about any sex stuff. I regret the other sex stuff I’ve told you about. What I have told you, snippets, I just got caught up in the story, and it was part of that. An important part, but I shouldn’t have told you. Any more than you tell me what you’re up to with your friends.”

Ben’s sour face turned into a thankful smile. Becky wasn’t easily embarrassed and her grin confirmed that. I hoped Ben hadn’t wanted any details, really, and I was glad to have avoided that. He did have more to say, however.

“I’m glad you did finally get out of bed. Grandma probably had a big dinner fixed, and it would have been a shame if you’d been too exhausted to go eat it. It being Thanksgiving and all.”

I tickled him. He had it coming for that ‘exhausted’ comment. Becky got off her chair and joined us on the couch. I think her natural protective instincts for Ben motivated her.

At 16, he was almost as big as I was, but he still acted like a kid a lot of the time, and watching him wriggle and writhe under my probing fingers, I was reminded of so many times, as he was growing up, that the same thing had happened, and he had screamed the same scream, of pleasure and fear. His scream was deeper now, that was the only difference. His dark blond hair flew around his head as he tried to jerk away from me. He was as beautiful as Kevin had been at his age. I stopped tickling and hugged him, and I talked and talked, telling him about my adventures going though my teen years, starting when I was a freshman in high school. 

I felt emotional, doing that, reliving it. The story brought back many memories. The many feelings I’d had back then hadn’t been lost in the intervening years.

I ended up talking about Ben. Not how he was conceived, but how he’d been as a baby and grown into an exceptional teenager. Ben had been the joy of Becky’s life. Kevin and I sort of liked him, too. Okay, Kevin and I loved him more than we’d known was possible. We’d all raised him. He was our kid. He managed to do just what we’d thought he would: as Becky had done for Kevin and me: he made all our perfect lives better.

He was a beautiful child and an even more striking young man. He had dark blond hair, a sort of compromise between my medium brown color and Kevin’s blond. It always seemed strange to me how in so many ways he resembled a combination of Kevin’s and my features, despite the genetic impossibility; His face resembled Becky’s more than either of ours. His build was slim, and it was only because of his wrestling that he’d filled out. In his early teens, his body had been like Kevin’s had been. And mine.

He had my smile, and my nature. He worried more than he should, although not to the degree I had. I teased him about it, and he laughed when I did. He laughed a lot, more than I ever had. My love for him was absolute. My pride in him, too. 

He was smart, almost scary smart. I told him he got that from Kevin. Kevin told him he got it from me. Becky grinned and stayed silent, but there was no doubt in any of us that she’d contributed, too. How much and from whom? We didn’t have a clue. No wonder the kid was confused.

He’d been teased a bit in elementary school for having two dads. His response had been to simply walk away from it, but to learn how to defend himself so in the future he’d be able to handle that sort of thing if it continued. He had us sign him up for karate, and then found he loved working out and joined a gym. By the time he was 14, no other kids teased him. Not even older ones.

Now he wanted to know what any kid wants to know—who his father was. The truth of the matter was difficult: we didn’t know who his biological father was. We’d never gotten him tested, never had wanted to. He was ours . . .

We all heard the door open, then, and the sound of keys hitting the bowl we kept them in, and then Kevin was standing in the room, looking at us on the couch, and a grin, Kevin’s grin, the grin I’d fallen in love with, was on his face.

“That looks a little crowded. What’s wrong with the chairs?”

Ben said, “They’re holding me captive, Pop. Matt was tickling me.” He faked a whiny voice. Ben actually was as far from a whiny kid as was imaginable.

I laughed. Ben’s personality seemed to change whenever Kevin was with him. When he was alone with me, he was more serious. His playful side seemed to be enhanced by Kevin’s presence.

“Ben, you were captain of the wrestling team this year. If you can’t escape from those two, why’d you spend all that time on the mats?”

I put my arm around Ben’s shoulders. “Kevin, I’ve just finished telling him everything he wanted to know about our past. We just didn’t answer his final question. Your timing is perfect, just like always. Why don’t you join us over here?”

Kevin crossed the living room and before dropping into a chair next to us, kissed me. He did that a lot. “My turn, huh?” he asked with a grin when he was seated.

I nodded at him, feeling relieved. This would be difficult, but I trusted him.

He focused his eyes on Ben. His look could be intimidating. Kevin had grown into a strong man. I thought back about the cocky teen he’d been, challenging me but also deferring to me when it was right to. I thought of him that day our life together really began, in his bedroom on that Thanksgiving vacation long ago when we’d committed ourselves to each other, and how he’d been so sad and diminished when I’d first come in, how he’d looked, sitting slumped on his bed, staring into his lap. He’d been anything but strong then. Love had resurrected him. Love had let him grow into what he was now, a secure, confident and successful man. A supremely happy man.

His focus on Ben wasn’t intimidating, however. It was riveting and total, and Ben was drawn into it. It was a loving focus, and consuming.

“Ben, you know how much you’re loved. And I know you love us just as much. We’re a family, a true family. I’m your pop, and Matt’s your dad, and Becky’s your mom, and you’re our son. And I want you to think about this before I answer your question. If I answer your question, and you find out one of us is your biological father and one of us isn’t, will that affect us? All of us? Do you think you’ll still feel like you do now? 

“Now, we’re both your fathers, totally and equally. Finding out what you’re asking might change how you feel, even if just a little. Is that what you want?

“Or instead, do you want to know you are loved not because either of us created you, but because of who you are? How you got made isn’t really part of you, it’s part of us. We three all created you, consciously and knowingly, but that’s not the reason we love you. You’re who you are, and we love you for that. You’re the most lovable boy any of us has ever known. How you were made isn’t as important as the fact we’ve loved you every day since you were born, and every day we loved you more than anyone ever could love a boy, and the next day, we loved you even more than we did the day before. That’s what’s important. We all love you, and that love is never-ending and perfect.”

He paused then, letting those words find their home. His eyes continued to hold Ben‘s.

When he continued, he said, “Ben, you’re just learning about sex, and your awareness of it is a young person’s awareness. Just like people are all different and are all filled with complexities, so are love and sex different and complex. As you continue to grow up, you’ll learn more about people, and about love and about sex. You’ll learn as you grow, and because you’re the boy you are, you’ll be receptive to what you learn, and you’ll accept the differences in people and the ways they do things.

“You’ve already had to accept that you don’t come from a traditional family. And you haven’t just accepted that, you’ve taken advantage of it. You’ve grown stronger from the people who have teased you because of it. You’ve learned from it, and defended other kids who’ve had a different upbringing, and who are different themselves. We’re so proud of you that we feel like shouting to the world, ‘Look at our son, look at Ben!’ No one could be prouder of their boy than we are. No one could love their child more.

“That’s how you were created, Ben. With love. And that’s what you should think about and remember. You were created with love, you grew up with love, and you’ll have that it till the day we die.”

Ben stumbled out of the deep cushions of the couch and ran to Kevin and fell into his embrace. Then we were all in a group embrace on the living room floor. Tears were shed, but not for long. There was too much love and laughter in that house for the mood to remain somber for long.

Maybe Kevin hadn’t really answered Ben’s question. But he’d satisfied him, and reinforced the feeling of love that filled our family. If at some point there became a need to know which of us was his biological dad, we’d find out. But that need wasn’t there now, and Kevin’s answer had been just what was right for the moment. I’d known Kevin would have the perfect answer.

_____________

I’m about done here. I do like the idea of completing the circle, and one incident, one reflection from my years as a principal, should accomplish that. It began when my secretary stepped into my office.

“Dr. Tucker?”

As I was swiveling around to answer her, I already knew she had someone with her. She called me Matt when we were alone. I’d told her she could call me that anytime, but she did things her way. She’d been doing things her way for more years than it would be polite to numerate. Best secretary I’d ever had.

“Dr. Tucker, this is Spencer Colliers. Mr. Curtis sent him up to see you.”

“Thanks, Marjorie.” Even though I was speaking to her, I was looking at the boy. From his face, I’d have guessed he was 14, or maybe even 13. Definitely a freshman. You could always tell from the body language, if nothing else. From his height, however, I was unsure of his age. He was almost as tall as I was. Very slender, though. And cute.

I walked out from behind my desk to meet him. I didn’t like to have a desk between me and the kids who came to my office.

Marjorie left, softly closing the door behind her, and I stuck out my hand to him, knowing young guys didn’t much like that but also knowing he would understand I respected him if I shook hands with him. He rather hesitantly took my hand and we shook.

“Spencer or Spence?” I asked.

“Either, sir,” he said. His high-pitched voice suggested 13 rather than 14 and seemed incongruous in his long and lanky body.

“What does your best friend call you?” I asked with a chuckle.

He heard the chuckle and grinned, losing some of his trepidation. “He calls me Tiny.” He paused a moment, then said, “It’s a long story.”

He seemed more at ease now. Good. “Maybe you’ll tell me someday. But if I can’t get you to tell me what you’d like me to call you, if you’re too wily and onto my tricks, I’m just going to call you Spencer. I like that name, so I’ll use it.

“So, please, let’s sit down, Spencer.”

He did, and I sat near him in a chair I turned so we could see each other comfortably. I gave him a moment to settle in. Even though I’d loosened him up enough so he’d grinned, he still was nervous. Almost every kid who came to my office was nervous. I’d learned how to put them at ease, and could usually do so, except the very shy ones.

He didn’t seem shy. That was good. It was a lot harder to get shy kids to tell me anything. It took longer. I liked the look of Spencer. I thought maybe he’d really talk to me.

I asked him why we were meeting, what had happened in gym. Mr. Curtis was our gym teacher, new this year. I didn’t know him as well as I would, but we had talked, and I had good feelings about him.

“I was in gym class and Mr. Curtis told us we were going to play a silly game, Duck Duck Goose. I didn’t like that. It’s a little kids’ game. The more I thought about it, the more I didn’t want to do it.”

He stopped then. I saw him firm his shoulders. He had some determination in him. Then he went on, saying, “I thought that other kids would laugh at me. I thought about what I’d look like, trying to jump up and run around a circle, chasing some kid half my size. I’m already a freak. I’m way taller than everyone else my age, I don’t run very well, and some of the guys make fun of that. I knew I’d look silly. I got to thinking about that, and about what the guys would say, and I told Mr. Curtis I wasn’t going to play. He said some things, and I did too, and, well, here I am.”

He looked down into his lap then. I watched a moment, but didn’t see any shaking of the shoulders, any trembling. He wasn’t going to cry. Sometimes boys did. This one wasn’t like that at all.

He had brought back memories. I couldn’t help but remember a kid having similar feelings about playing that same game, the same reasons for not waning to play it, a long long time ago. More than 30 years ago now. If anyone could empathize with what Spencer had been thinking about and worrying about, I was that guy.

I thought about what he’d said and knew there was something more important to talk about here than gym class.

It was better to approach some subjects obliquely. “Spencer, do you think it might be good if the next time you have gym, you went and apologized to Mr. Curtis? I don’t know what he said to you, but I do know him a little, and he likes kids. He shares my view of what gym classes should be like. He has a good reputation. He might feel as badly about this as you do. Would apologizing be something you could consider?”

He did consider it. He sat there, looking into his lap for a moment, then looked up at me wearing a grin, a sort of lopsided grin that made him even cuter.

“I probably should do that. I didn’t mean what I said. I was just worried about playing that game. And I resented being forced to look stupid.”

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. Then I said, “I don’t want to embarrass you, but you’re a good looking boy. And you’ve got some spunk. I really like that. Let me tell you, Spencer, you’re not even close to being a freak. You’re someone that other kids will look at and say, ‘I wish I could be like Spencer.’ Even if they don’t say it today, they will, and soon. You’re no freak, Spencer. I’m sure your parents would tell you that, if they knew you thought that. Have you told them that’s how you feel?”

“It’s only Dad and me. No, I haven’t told him. We don’t talk much. He’s too busy.” 

He looked down after saying that. His voice had changed. He’d spoken to me confidently, even after admitting he might have spoken rudely to the gym teacher. Talking about his dad, that confidence was entirely missing.

I waited, and he soon looked up again. I smiled at him. “You know, Spencer, I can’t help but think how familiar your name is. You wouldn’t happen to be related to Brent Colliers, would you?”

“He’s my dad.”

“Aha! Well, Spencer, I happen to know your dad. That probably doesn’t surprise you, the high school principal knowing the head of the school board. But I don’t know him just because of that. I knew him when we were both about the age you are now.”

At that, his eyes opened a little wider, and a little more life came into him. “Really, sir?”

“Yep. We weren’t friends, not at first, but we became sort of friends. He saved my life.”

That made him sit up straight. “He did? Really?” I had his full attention now.

“Well, maybe. I always thought of it like he did. He protected me when I was in trouble and could have, might have been killed. Did you know he was a great ping-pong player?”

He looked surprised. I saw several emotions cross his face. Then he said, “He’s awfully busy. His company takes a lot of his time, and then the school board meets at night. I don’t see him much.” I could hear something in his voice. I could read it in his posture, too. I saw this all the time, kids whose parents didn’t have time for them. It was even harder on the kids when it was only a single parent they had to rely on.

“So you don’t spend much time with him, Spencer?” I asked, gently.

“No. I wish . . .” He stopped and looked down again.

I waited, but he didn’t look back up. Finally, I told him, “I have a phone call I need to make, Spencer. Could you just sit there for a moment? Sorry to interrupt our talk.” I stepped to my desk and picked up the phone, and when Marjorie answered, I asked her to get Brent Colliers on the phone for me. Spencer looked a little surprised when he heard the name, and then fidgeted.

When my phone rang, I answered and heard Brent’s deep voice saying, “No, you can’t have any more money. Put a written request in next year’s budget.” And then a laugh.

“Brent, good to hear from you. Thanks for taking my call.”

“Any time, Matt. What’s up?”

“I’ve got a young boy in my office. Dark brown hair, intelligent eyes, very good looking, someone who thinks he’s too tall for his age but who looks just right to me.” I was watching Spencer as I said this, peripherally, and his body language seemed to relax a little in his chair. I smiled, turning a little more away from him so he wouldn’t see my grin and misinterpret it.

“You’ve got Spencer in there? What’s wrong?” There was concern in Brent’s voice now.

“Nothing, really, but I think the three of us should go to lunch, talk about some things. I’m sure you can break away, can’t you?”

“I’ve got a meeting downtown for lunch.”

“And I think you can get out of it for your son, can’t you?”

There was a pause, and then he said, “Of course, if you think it’s important.” This was his businessman’s voice, more serious, less social.

“I think it’s the most important thing you can do today, Brent.”

He must have heard something of the steel I put in my voice because with no more hedging we made plans for lunch. After hanging up, I turned back to Spencer and said, “You want to hear about the greatest ping-pong game ever played?”

“Yeah,” he said, looking eager. “Was my dad in it?

“He certainly was. I was, too. It was for the championship of, well, of the gym class where the game was being played. So it was an important match. All eyes in the gym were on us as we battled.” I went on to make the game as riveting as I could, and it seemed to be working as Spencer was rapt. This time, Spencer’s dad won.

At the restaurant, I quickly picked up a discouraging vibe. There was tension between my two guests. It was subtle, but it was there. They both tried as much as possible to speak directly to me. 

I kept the conversation light. As they were both more engaged with me than each other, I was the one who decided what we would be talking about, and I kept it far away from their relationship. I did things like asking Spencer what sort of TV shows he liked, and what books. I talked to Brent about how he fitted all his responsibilities into his cramped schedule, how he decided between two vital meetings when there was only time for one. 

They both listened to each other speak to me. I had the feeling that Brent had no idea what Spencer liked doing in his spare time, or that Spencer knew what his dad was doing when he wasn’t home.

I decided that instead of trying to get them to talk to each other at that lunch, I’d talk to Brent with Spencer absent. This problem had been caused by Brent, and he had to do what was required to fix it. 

I’d been in this same situation before and knew how to do this. I knew it would be easier this time than some of the other times because I knew Brent. He was a good man. He’d simply become too wrapped up in his job and civic responsibilities. He hadn’t realized how much his son needed his time, too. Especially at this age. A freshman boy in high school when so many things are brand new to him really needs the support of his father. 

So when we’d finished our lunch, I asked Spencer to wait in the car for just a few moments. Then I laid into Brent, but in my fashion. I reminded him of how he and his son had acted when together at lunch, and how unhappy Spencer was that he didn’t have a better relationship with Brent. I told him Spencer looked up to him, loved him, and missed him dreadfully. I told him that I’d told Spencer about the ping-pong match Brent and I’d had in high school and how Spencer was on the edge of his seat listening, and that was because the story was about his dad.

Brent told me he didn’t know how to talk to the boy! His wife had always been there for him, and after she died, the boy was inconsolable for weeks, and Brent had felt helpless. Maybe that had caused a separation that had never healed, he said. He asked me if they needed counseling.

“I don’t think adding a third party would be the best way to handle this. It’ll be much easier than that. You’ll be surprised how easy it is. This wouldn’t work with some boys, but it will with Spencer. He’s open and trusting and wants his dad. Just talk to him after dinner. Sit close to him. Tell him you’re sorry that you weren’t available when he needed you, that it was a mistake. Tell him that you were hurting back then, too, and didn’t know what to do help him. Then say you want to be his dad again, and you want the two of you to spend more time together, and you’ll change your schedule to make that possible. Tell him you want to talk to him every day so you can know what he’s doing, what he’s feeling, and you’ll talk about what happening in your life, too. 

“Brent, he’ll respond. He so wants this. And you know what? Do this and all those important meetings you’ve filled your time with will suddenly become far, far less important.” 

I made it a point to ask Brent every few days how it was going with Spencer. They were spending more time together. They were both happier, and Brent was enthusiastic about how much better things were. He said they were close now, and wished I’d kicked his ass sooner. I laughed, hearing that. I knew the two of them were going to be fine.

I could have had more of that closeness from my own dad, more than I had had when I’d so desperately needed it, if I’d only asked for it. Spencer didn’t know how to do that either. I did it for him. 

Driving back to school after lunch that day, I told Spencer about my talk with his dad, and how things were going to change for him. About how he should take advantage of this by opening up, talking about the important stuff even when it was embarrassing, because men know about that stuff, having lived it themselves. Not just sexual stuff but stuff like what scares you, what situations you get in where you don’t know what do to, how to handle bullies, all that icky stuff. That was how the two of them would get really close. “Tell him the things you’re reluctant to say. You’ll be amazed how you feel after doing that.”

Spencer couldn’t stop smiling.

I couldn’t help but think how strange this was. This all started with a boy being disciplined for refusing to play a game in gym. How strange that the outgrowth of that silly game on the school grounds could do this. That it could result in this young boy getting closer to what he really needed now, his father. And that same game had brought me what I most valued in my life. Ben. And Becky. And Kevin. For me, there’d always be Kevin.

_____________

And so the circle is complete. I’m older now, much older than when I began this tale. Yet that beginning is still with me. The emotions I feel when I think back are the emotions I felt then. They’re part of many happy remembrances. Those leave me feeling fulfilled. That silly early childhood game seemed the beginning, yet its reach resounded through the years. Is this also a metaphor for many things, trivial things, things of no great moment, that have effects which return over and over, sometimes for good, sometimes with other ends?

What made this silly game result in so much happiness for me and others was that it was followed by love and acceptance. 

Love and acceptance. When people have those, they have the essentials for happiness. After that, it’s all up to them. I’ve seen this in my life. I’ve reveled in those feelings. It helps, of course, when you have people like Ben, Becky and Kevin in your life. Who are your life.

The End