Jake’s tears subsided and he wiped his nose on his pillowcase. He rolled onto his back and placed his hands behind his head. The events of the evening played back in his head like videotape. How had everything gone so wrong? Why had his circle of friends pushed him to the fringes?

After Matt leaves, he thought, I’ll jack off. Maybe I’ll smoke a hitter or two. Weed didn’t make the pain go away, it anesthetized it.

Shit! The weed I scored is still in the pocket of my jacket. And the jacket was lying on the floor in a heap with the rest of the clothes he had worn that evening.

The minute Matt walks in here, he’s going to hang up the jacket, Jake knew. He didn’t want to take any chances. It was so typical of Matt, to worry about clothes on the floor. Tim, on the other hand, had not only seen the jacket lying on the floor but had said nothing. That was typical of Tim.

He snatched up the jacket and pulled the baggie full of marijuana out of its hiding place.

He hastily shut the drawer when he heard Matt’s voice on the other side of the bedroom door. He dove onto his bed and tried to act casual.

What Jake didn’t notice is that a large corner of the Ziploc bag protruded out of the drawer.

"Is he in his room?" Matt asked Tim softly.

"Yeah." Did he imagine it, or had Tim’s voice quavered when he spoke the word? "I need to talk to you whenever you’re done with Jake."

"OK." In the two little syllables Matt spoke, Jake heard apprehension.

Matt rapped softly, twice.

"Come on in, Dad."

An odor assaulted Matt’s nostrils immediately; musky and sweaty, intermingled with the scent of dirty socks and dried sperm. There were overtones of cologne and, Matt was sure, the heavy sweet odor of pot. It was the aroma of an adolescent boy’s room.

Matt had decided he didn’t want to know about the pot. If he knew about it, Matt thought that he would have to confront it. And right now, he wasn’t ready to confront it.

"Thanks for hanging up your clothes, kiddo." A little positive reinforcement never hurts, Matt thought. He slumped down on a corner of Jake’s bed. "So. Tim said you wanted to talk to me."

Jake sniffed the armpit of the shirt he wore that night, grimaced and then tossed the garment into his laundry basket.

He crossed the room, stood in front of Matt, and held his hands palm out. This was his sign for affection. It was a modified game of Mercy. Jake’s fingers wove themselves between Matt’s and he leaned forward slightly putting some weight onto the man’s arms. Matt watched the boy’s face for any signs.

"Kinda chilly down here tonight. You might want to put on a T-shirt." Matt’s eyes swept the bedroom. Even in the dim light, Matt began noticing things. His eyes landed on the corner of the baggie protruding from the dresser drawer. He tightened his lips and wrinkled his forehead. He knew he would have to confront Jake about his weed usage and sooner rather than later. Then, he noticed something else. "Son, what’s wrong with your nipples? What have you been doing?"

Jake immediately covered his nipples with his hands. Matt found the gesture amusing and would have laughed if he hadn’t been concerned.

"What do you mean?"

"Are you turning Jewish on me? Answering a question with a question?" Matt reached for Jake’s right wrist and gently pulled his hand away. "Look at your nipples. They’re the size of half dollars."

"It’s nothing."

"Are they sore? Do we need to take you to the doctor?"

"No, Dad! Jeez! I’m OK."

"Just not normal," Matt muttered. He had heard something about swollen nipples. It meant something; but operator at the switchboard in his brain was tired and not making the proper connections. He put the thought aside for a moment. It would come to him.

Matt inhaled slowly through his nostrils as he remembered the real reason why he had been summoned into Jake’s Palace of Slack. He inhaled deeply through his nostrils. "OK, sorry. They teach us these things at Dad School."

Jake visibly relaxed, sat beside Matt on the bed and leaned against him. Matt put an arm around his shoulders and continued to study his face. Jake was staring at a spot on the carpet and his eyebrows were creased. Matt knew this facial expression. Jake had something on his mind but wasn’t sure how to approach it.

"Have a good time tonight?"

That did it. The St. Francis Dam broke. Everything came pouring out. "No! I had a shitty time!"

"Why don’t you tell me about it."

So Jake did. He told Matt about what Logan had said to him at The Tivoli. How Logan had rejected him. Once again. Then there was the dance and Mike. How Mike had a hot new boyfriend, older, attractive, and with a driver’s license.

"And the thing of it is," Jake concluded, "I don’t want to be gay! I don’t mean to offend you…"

Matt smiled at the boy. "No offense taken."

"It’s just so unfair!"

"What’s unfair, Jake?"

"I have these feelings. I don’t know what to do about them. I want to get closer but they won’t let me. Everybody thinks I’m just some brainless jock. But I’m not! I have feelings, too. All the girls love Brian because they think he’s so sensitive. All the girls want to be around Brian. All the guys, too. Everybody loves Brian and I’m just some asshole who lives at his house."

Matt chuckled, partly out of discomfort.

"You’re laughing at me." Jake stood up, crossed the room and clenched his fists.

"No, I’m not." Matt stood also.

"You’re laughing at me! I hate that!" His voice rose.

"Jacob, calm down! I apologize. I wasn’t laughing at you." Matt placed his hands on Jake’s shoulders. "I’m sorry. It was inappropriate for me to laugh. I do that sometimes when I’m uncomfortable."

Jake’s shoulders sagged and his head bowed. "I don’t want to be gay, Dad." This was an old path they had traveled many times before. The footpath was well worn. The confusion, hurt and pain was very evident in his eyes.

"I’ve never thought you were gay, Jake," Matt said in a soft voice. "Confused, maybe. Maybe you’re even bisexual. But you’re not gay."

Jake looked skeptical. "How do you know?" he demanded.

"Gaydar, Jake."

"Then, how do you explain the fact that I’ve only had sex with boys since I’ve moved here?"

"Too much information!"

"Well, it’s true! Maybe it has something with the fact that everyone here is gay."

"I don’t think that’s it, Jake. You’re jumping to conclusions. It’s a matter of convenience and who is closer to you. I read somewhere once that fifty percent of adolescent boys experiment with other boys. I think it’s a phase that you’re going though. You know, the sex drive is one of the most powerful physical drives we have. It ranks right behind eating and the need for sleep and water. You’re very close to some of your male friends and maybe this is just a way of expressing it."

Jake was staring down at his toes. Could it really be that simple? It always made sense the way Matt explained things.

"Jake, you’re a great kid. There’s a lot to like. Your sexuality is just one part of it; one tiny part. Tim and I will love you no matter what. And so do your brothers. I know how tight you are with Brian and Tommy thinks you’re God. He thinks your shit doesn’t stink."

Jake managed a brief smile and a chuckle. "But about tonight? Why did Pam and Diane and the others treat me like shit?"

Matt struggled with several answers for a long moment. Don’t just sit there; tell him. He needs to hear it.

"Because you were so obnoxious."

"I was just trying to be funny."

"You’re trying too hard. Farting in public isn’t funny."

"I think it is."

"That’s the problem. Look at things from someone’s else’s point of view." He thought for another moment. "Think of your best friend. What makes him or her your best friend?"

"Umm…I like to be with him. He’s a lot of fun. He makes me laugh. He listens to me. He’s really smart but he doesn’t make me feel stupid. I can ask him anything and I know he won’t make fun of me. I trust him."

Matt smiled approvingly at Jake. "Excellent, Jake! That’s a good list. Now, be that friend."

"What do you mean?"

"If you want more friends like that, be that kind of friend."

Jake looked at Matt with big, round eyes. "You think I can?"

Matt hugged him, enjoying the feel of his body. "I’m sure of it. I have confidence in you. Now, you need to get some sleep. Oh, I almost forgot. You have an optometrist appointment on Wednesday."

"Oh, man! Does this mean I have to get glasses?"

"Probably."

"Damn! Now I’ll really look like a geek." He squirmed underneath the covers of his bed.

"Remember, Jake, it’s not how you look that attracts people. It’s how you act." Matt ruffled his hair. "I think it’s time for a haircut, too."

Jake squirmed under the covers. "Thanks, Dad. I love you."

Matt couldn’t resist one more hug. "I love you, too." Matt rose and left the room. As he slowly closed the door, he watched the dim light from the family room diminish to a sharp angle.

Tim sat on the couch facing the fireplace. The TV was on but the screen displayed the word MUTE in the lower left corner.

Matt stroked his hair before rounding the end of the couch to sit beside his younger lover.

Tim’s red eyes gave him away.

"What’s wrong, Tim? Are you OK?"

Tim inhaled a long, ragged breath before speaking. "We’ve never cuddled in front of this fireplace."

"Excuse me?"

Tim looked up at Matt with bloodshot eyes. Matt noticed a neglected mug of coffee sitting on the Jetsons-style coffee table Matt had purchased at Target when he first moved into the townhome. He had liked its retro funkiness but relegated it to the basement after Jake started making fun of it.

"I always wanted to sit and cuddle in front of the fireplace. We’ve never done that."

"We still can, if you want to."

Tim stared into the fire. Matt glanced at the TV screen. It was tuned to the Weather Channel. They were in the local forecast cycle, reporting the current temperatures at O’Hare and Midway. Heavy frost was predicted for Sunday night.

Matt was exhausted. It had been a long day, starting with work, then driving Brian and Jake to the Tivoli, and sitting through yet another showing of The Lion King with Tommy and Tim. But Matt knew he had to be patient and let Tim open up on his own terms. Matt ran his fingers through Tim’s hair again. "What happened, Tim?"

Tim inhaled and then exhaled in a long, tired, defeated sigh. "Why wouldn’t Jake talk to me?"

"When?"

"Just now. He insisted that he wanted to talk to you."

"He’s a teenager, Tim. He didn’t know how it hurt your feelings."

"What did he want to talk about?"

"Oh, the typical Jake stuff. Like how he doesn’t want to be gay. About how his friends treated him like shit tonight. I swear, that kid is the biggest drama queen. But then adolescence is prime time for drama."

"I still don’t understand why he wouldn’t talk to me."

"I don’t know, Tim, I can only speculate. But whatever the reason, don’t take it personally."

"When he did that - asked for you instead of talking to me - I felt like he didn’t trust me."

"Tim, never underestimate how much those boys love you, especially Jake. You may even be closer to him than I am." Matt smiled gently. "You’re both jocks."

Tim slapped the arm of the couch, causing Buddy to raise his head and gaze at them with curiosity. "I thought I had a good relationship with him. I thought we were friends."

"You are friends with him and with Brian and Tommy, too." Matt leaned over and kissed Tim’s cheek. "But…."

"But, what?"

Matt hesitated. "You just have a different parenting style, that’s all."

"What’s that supposed to mean?" There was defensiveness and a touch of anger in his voice.

"You’re friends with the boys. I’m the strict parent. Wait, let me finish, Tim." Tim pressed his lips closed. "We’re trying to change that, and we’ve made some progress, but it’s a process. It won’t happen overnight. I’m not a perfect parent. I never claimed to be. But what I’ve said from the beginning is that these kids need structure and routine and discipline."

"I understand all that and I agree with it, but it still doesn’t explain…."

"Tim," Matt said quietly, "When a little child skins his knee, he doesn’t go to his friends for comfort. He goes to his parents."

Tim’s eyes glistened.

Matt forced a smile and placed a hand on the back of his neck. "Hey, it’s not the end of the world, Tim. It will all blow over sooner or later. Two weeks from now you’ll have forgotten all about this. And maybe your role as the fun parent is just what they need right now."

For the first time Tim was seeing the results of his parenting style. Although it was nice to hear Matt assure him how much the boys loved him, he had known that fact. But he hadn’t really seen the consequences of the role he had cast himself in until that night. He didn’t like what he saw.

"C’mon, Tim. Let’s do some of that cuddling in front of the fireplace."

Tim just shook his head.

"Really, Tim. It will all blow over. We could have a little fun tonight." Matt playfully rubbed Tim’s crotch.

"No, Matt. I have to sort things out for myself. OK?"

"Just to cuddle, then. It might make you feel better."

Tim continued to shake his head slowly.

Matt took a long, silent moment to study Tim. Finally, he nodded slowly. "OK. I think I’m turning in." He stood, and held Tim’s hand for a long moment. "What time is our appointment with the realtor tomorrow?"

"One o’clock."

"Tim, I love you."

Tim raised misty eyes to the dark-haired man. "I love you, too."

Matt released his hand and went upstairs.

Patrick had showered and wrapped a towel around his waist. He wiped the fog off the bathroom mirror and filled the sink with hot water. As he shaved, he listened for Tony’s arrival home from work.

Patrick was hungry and he had made himself a sandwich when he got home from work. But the delicious aroma of the chicken he had put in the crock-pot made his stomach growl. But he had promised Marilyn that he would visit her tonight. She was in Christ Hospital and said that she had something important to talk to him about.

He dressed in jeans and a polo shirt. He was in the kitchen stirring the contents of the crock-pot when he heard Tony’s keys in the door.

"Mmm! Smells delicious!" Tony entered the kitchen and hugged Patrick from behind. "Do I have time to eat?"

"No, sorry. Visiting hours end at 7. I promised Marilyn we’d be there tonight."

"What does she want to talk to us about?"

"I don’t know." That had been troubling Patrick, too. He had known Marilyn for many years and knew she wouldn’t have asked if it weren’t something important. "Go take a shower. If you’re really hungry, we could stop at White Castle."

Tony started unbuttoning his navy blue Chicago Police shirt. "Maybe we could bring some for Marilyn, too. I know how much she loves them. Will Ryan be there?"

"I don’t know, she didn’t say."

Tony showered and shaved quickly and they were soon on their way to Christ Hospital. Although their route north on Harlem Avenue took them past at least two other White Castles, they stopped at the White Castle at 95th and Harlem so that the small burgers would at least still be warm when they arrived. Tony was able to wolf down five cheeseburgers before they arrived at the hospital.

"Better take it slow with those, Tony. You know what they say."

"What?" he asked with his mouth full.

"Well, they’re called Sliders for good reason. They slide in and they slide out."

Tony swallowed. "That image was too graphic."

Patrick smirked as he pulled into the parking garage of the hospital.

They were shocked to see Marilyn. She greeted them effusively but she did not look well at all. Her skin was an unhealthy gray color, her cheeks were hollow, her hair had the consistency of straw and she had dark circles under her eyes.

She greeted them with hugs and kisses when they entered the room. "Oh! My favorites!" She peered into the white bag. "Really, you shouldn’t have. Tony! Good to see you! You look good for yourself."

"Thanks, Marilyn. Where’s Ryan? Is he here?"

"No, he’s at my mom’s house. He’d love to see you if you get a chance."

"I’d love to see him, too, but right now my schedule is crazy. You knew I was training for the juvenile division?"

"Yes, how’s that going?"

"Very well, I think I’m going to like it a lot. Does Ryan have a new Big Brother?"

Marilyn shook her head. "No. They found one for him, but he was a bit young and very athletic. All he wanted to do was play baseball and football. You can guess how that went over with Ryan."

The two men chuckled. "So we just kind of mutually decided that we’d try for another one." She smiled at them.

Patrick pulled up a chair and took her hand. "How ya doing, Marilyn?"

She pulled her reading glasses off and tossed them on top of the word search magazine she had been working. "Not so good, guys. I have lung cancer."

Patrick nodded. He did know that.

"They removed part of my left lung and discovered it has metastasized to the lymph system and probably the liver."

The news brought stinging tears to Patrick’s eyes. It wasn’t unexpected; battles with lung cancer rarely had a happy outcome. Still, the realization that he was losing a close friend, a former classmate and someone he liked and respected hurt. He and Marilyn had graduated in the same class. It made him think of his own mortality.

After a few long moments of silently holding her hand, Patrick regained control over himself. "Is there anything we can do for you, hon?"

"Yes," she said, looking straight into Patrick’s eyes. "You can take my son."

"What?" Patrick felt as if the air had been squeezed out of him.

"I’ve thought this out carefully. My ex doesn’t want him. My mother would take him, but she’s too old to keep up with him. My brother and sisters have their own problems to deal with. He knows you and he loves you. It’s the best solution."

"I’m no spring chicken myself, Marilyn. My oldest son could be his father."

"But you’re healthy and more importantly, I know he’ll be safe with you. I’ve really given this a lot of thought. It’s the best way."

"I…I don’t know what to say."

"Then say yes."

"Being a father all over again. I’m not sure if I’m ready for that."

"We’ve got a little time, at least. You can think about it."

"Does Ryan know?"

"Yes. He doesn’t know that I’m terminal yet, but I’ll tell him. But I did discuss the idea of his living with you. He’s very excited about it."

Patrick released her hand and rubbed his forehead. "God, Marilyn. I’ll really have to think about it."

"You do that."

Tony spoke up. "Would you excuse me? I need to use the bathroom." The Sliders were making their way though his digestive system - sooner than he expected.

He crossed the room to the tiny hospital bathroom and closed the door behind him.

A pair of women’s panties hung on a hook behind the door. Tony finished his necessary business, washed his hands and stuffed the panties in his pocket before re-entering the room.