One Small Step - Part I

"Phoooooone!" I shout from the bathroom where I've just gotten out of the shower. "Rick? Rick! Can you get that?" No answer. My plastic Elvis telephone is singing his heart out, and I'm getting the idea that Rick's not home. "Fine, I got it!" I shout, as if I need to, and dive for my bedside table, soaking wet and clutching a towel to my chest. "Hello?"

There's silence on the other end of the line.

"Hello? Can I help you? I can hear you breathing, you know." I start to get annoyed and I'm about to hang up when a woman's voice stops me.

"H… Hello." She clears her throat. "Hello is uh… I'm trying to reach Sean Dugan, I'm… I'm not sure I have the right number…?"

What the heck is this? "This is Sean, please put me on your do not call list." That registry is bullshit, I still get telemarketers every damn day.

"Sean, this is Joan."

"Joan?" My mind races.

"Joan. Russo. Nick's mother?"


Now it's my turn to be silent. Fucking Joan, on my phone? I sit on the bed, forgetting that I'm wet and naked, but remembering the last time I saw her and the sting in my cheek where she'd slapped me.

"Sean... I would like to talk to you if you have some time."

"Talk to me?" I'm not hiding my skepticism at all, I know she can hear the sarcasm in my voice.

"Yes, Sean. I think we should talk."

"Really, Joan? That's interesting because the last time I saw you, you told me you never wanted to see me again."

Joan sighs on the other end. "Listen Sean, I'm not proud of that, alright? Now please, have you got some time this afternoon?"

"Some."

"Will you meet me at the cemetery?"

That surprises me. "I though you said…"

"Nevermind what I said. Please meet me?"

After a moment I nod. Realizing she can't see me, I stammer into the phone. "Yeah. Yeah ok."

"2 o'clock?"

"Sure."

"See you then."

"Right, I'll…" I begin, but the phone goes dead. I sigh and look at the receiver.

"Bad news?"

"Fuck!" I jump a mile, flying off the bed and whirling to face the door, the towel still clutched in my fingers. "Rick!" I sigh, relaxing. "You scared he fuck out of me…" Hastily, I tuck the towel around my waist.

"Sorry." Rick grins sheepishly, but I don't think he looks the least bit contrite. "Everything ok?

"No."

"No?"

"That was Joan… " I look at Rick, he shrugs at me. "Nick's mother."

"Oh Sean, you're kidding."

"Nope. Not kidding. She wants to 'talk' ".

"Damn. What's that about?"

I shrug. "Guess I'm going to find out."

"You want a ride?"

"No I… well? Yeah, ok… thanks."

"No problem. Let me know when you're ready." Rick retreats to the livingroom, I hear him turn on the TV.

Joan, the disapproving, evil, judgmental, bigoted, two-faced, bitch. Not that I have strong feelings about her or anything. I can't begin to guess what she wants to talk to me about. Part of me figures she's going to apologize for hitting me, but fuck her, she's got another thing coming if she thinks I'm going to assuage her guilt over that one.

I dress, maybe a little nicer than I normally would to go to the cemetery, khakis and a white t-shirt with a button-down over it. Then I tie into my docs and head out the door with Rick.

It takes about 20 miutes to get there, and I'm overly quiet in the car, I know, but Rick is cool about it. "Is that her?" Rick asks as we finally pull into the cemetery, pointing to a tall, thin woman standing in the grass.

"Yeah that's her, you can tell by the designer hand bag."

Rick snorted. "Ouch."

"Well, this should be interesting." I sigh, getting out of the car. "Thanks for the ride, Rick. I appreciate it."

"I know, Sean. Call me if you need a ride home."

I wave Rick off. Something tells me I'm going to want to take the bus home alone after this. "I'll be ok." I close the car door and head across the grass with my hands in my pockets. Joan's watching me, I can feel her eyes on me as I get closer.

"Hello Sean. Thank you for coming."

"I'm here every Saturday anyway."

"Yeah. You'd told me…"

I turn to the headstone and kneel by it a moment. "Hey baby." I whisper, tracing engraved Nick's name with my fingers.

"I was just telling him that I invited you here."

I look at Joan over my shoulder, squinting a bit in the sun. "I'm sure he's as curious as I am."

Joan pulls a blanket out of a sort of beach bag she's brought with her and spreads it out over Nick's grave. Then she sits, and pulls what looks like a photo album out of her bag. "Will you humor me and sit?"

"o...k..." I reply, and sit next to her. Joan puts the book in my lap and opens it, and there are all these pictures of this adorable little blonde toddler. I'm not usually quick on the draw but this I get immediately. "Is this him?" I ask, sliding my fingers over the page as if I could touch him.

Joan nods. "He was blonde as a baby…"

I'm sure you're shocked to find out that I'm a pretty sentimental guy. So, yeah, I kinda get into looking at these childhood pictures of Nick. Watching him grow from a chubby newborn, to a little white-blonde toddler, to a gawky kid, to a dark-haired cocky teenager, is kind of fun. Joan points out some landmarks along the way... his baptism, fifth birthday when he got a tricycle, his first communion, Nick in a soccer game, confirmation, Nick at 15 on a motorcycle... looking hot in an adorable cock-sure 15 year old way even then, and oh so very gay. I wonder when it was he finally told his mother?

But after about 20 minutes of page turning and anecdotes I've finally had enough. "Joan," I ask, in a straightforward way because I'm tired of fucking around with her, "why am I here?"

"You don't know?" She asks me, and I can feel that frustrated anger again, tightening inside my chest.


"No games, Joan, ok? Out with it."

"Sean, it's Nick's birthday." Joan tells me, with a tone that says I ought to know such things.

She's right of couse, I ought to. My god, I forgot his birthday? I shake my head and sigh. "I fucking forgot." I say, quietly, and I can't hide the disappointment in my voice. What kind of lover am I? I've been so self-involved that I completely forgot the birthday of the most important man in my life.

"It's ok." Joan nods. "My uh... my palm pilot popped up with a reminder this morning. I'd forgotten too."

I look at Joan. "We suck."

"Maybe. I don't know, he hated his birthday, maybe he'd be happy we forgot."

I nod. "He did hate his birthday." I look sadly at Nick's gravestone. "One year I tried to bake him a cake..."

"...he hated cake."

"Totally."

We sit in silence for a bit, maybe Joan is wishing Nick happy birthday, but I'm just feeling sad. Birthdays just don't hold the happiness they used to for me. Certainly my own will never be the same. I don't think I want to celebrate it at all this year.

"I think," Joan said finally after a long silence, "that you and I might be the only two people in the world that truly loved Nick." Naturally, that gets a reaction from me, because for someone that loved him, she was very noticably absent in his life. I turn and look at Joan, but she's ready for my argument. "I know, Sean, it didn't seem like I loved him, trying to bring him back to god, trying to show him what I believed... what I still believe... is the only way to salvation. Maybe you don't think that's love, but it was."

It's a point, maybe it was the only way she knew how to love him. But I don't think he understood her that at all. "I don't know if Nick cared about god." I shrug. "I think he wanted to care about you, though." I squint at her, now framed by the late afternoon sun.

"I wanted to care about him, too."

I look at Nick's headstone one more time, and the gaudy hideous cherubs make me grin for some reason. "I believe you."

Joan nods. "Thank you."

"I'm sorry, Joan, but those fat cherubs are really, really... ugly." It just had to be said, you know?

"Really? I think they're sweet." She doesn't seem offended.

"They're just not him."

Joan shrugs. "Well, at least they're naked." She grins, laughter in her voice.

I laugh, too. "Well yeah... there is that."

We giggle for a bit to cover another silence, but this one doesn't last as long.

"Sean, apologies are useless at this point and... and maybe even inappropriate. So..." Joan gets to her feet, and puts the photo album away on her bag. I pick up the blanket for her and we fold it together. "I just want to say thank you."

"No problem... seems like a nice thing to do for his birthday..."

"No, not for coming. I mean yes, thank you for coming but for more..." Joan looks at me and I can see she's struggling, that whatever she's trying to say is difficult for her. The emotion makes her swallow and blink before she can speak again. "Thank you for taking care of him."

I suppose that it's selfish, but my first reaction is anger. Somebody had to, you know? Somebody had to feed him, bathe him, clean up his sheets... somebody had to sit with him in the hospital, worry about him, talk to the doctors, right? Where was she? Except that somewhere in the middle of that thought it occurs to me that Nick never asked for her, either. He didn't ask me to tell her goodbye or give her anything. He didn't want her there. Maybe she was just respecting his wishes. I take a deep breath and try to let the tension go.

"...you're welcome."

"You need a ride home?"

"oh uh... no, thanks, I'm going to take the bus."

"You sure?"

I nod and smile. "Yeah, thanks."

Joan smiles back and then makes her way across the grass to her car. I watch her lean on it a moment and bow her head, and then open the door and sink into the front seat. When she finally pulls away I turn my attention back to Nick's cherub covered gravestone.

"At least they're naked..." I say out loud, grinning. "She's funny. You didn't tell me she was funny." I stuff my hands in my pockets. I hope wherever Nick is, that he's surrounded my hot men who are begging for him to fuck them. That's his kind of happy birthday, am I right?