Page 8

Chapter eight

Shane

O ne week, two surgeries, and three arguments about my leave of absence later, my mom and I had my father settled back at home. He went in for pain so bad that he passed out, had his gallbladder removed, and then they found cancer on the biopsy. The doctors assured us his prognosis was good, and the cancer seemed to only be on the one unneeded organ, but we were going to be hypervigilant. My dad was the rock I’d looked up to as a child, and my mother’s best friend. We weren’t ready to say goodbye before he retired.

He wasn’t a good patient, though.

“I don’t need you fussing over me, that’s what your mom is for,” my dad grumbled at me, settling into his recliner.

“Tatang,” I used the Filipino title for him with a warning tone. “We’re not arguing about this again. You don’t want to lose your liver too, do you?”

Tatang murmured protests under his breath, but I knew he didn’t want to give up his evening scotch. Infection and liver damage may have been low possibilities, but I’d use anything I could to make him follow doctor’s orders for the next couple of weeks until they cleared him.

Abe, the name my dad went by, was his family name in Manila, where he went to college and met my mom. They immigrated to California and decided to pick an easier last name. Tatang and Mama chose “Long” for his imposing stature, and it worked for me as well. My mom was tiny—though she said her long hair made her taller than us—so she couldn’t take care of my dad on her own.

All four feet ten inches of my Filipino Mama would deny it if I asked her, so I hadn’t asked. My old bedroom in their three-story Bernal Heights home was set up as a guest room, so I planned to stay there until my dad was well enough to get around on his own. One of the reasons why came rushing into the room, and I almost didn’t intercept her in time.

“Coco, no jumping,” Mama called from the stairs to the ground floor.

My mom came rushing up after the dog, with her graying black hair in a long braid whipping behind her. Their brown, fluffy bernadoodle—a mix of poodle and Bernese mountain dog who was supposed to be a miniature but had to be over fifty pounds—struggled in my arms.

“I don’t think she understands the word,” I got out between wet licks and dog whines over being kept from her dad.

“No jumping?” Mama asked, trying to hook the leash back on Coco’s collar between my arms while Tatang laughed at us. “Yes, she does. Coco is very smart.”

Another lick had me cringing. I loved dogs, and my parents acted like the one-year-old puppy was my sister, but I hadn’t shaved in a week. Her tongue tugged at my stubble and landed in my eye. Mama finally attached the clasp and pulled Coco off me, but the pup was still persistent, tugging at the fabric and nearly choking herself.

“She won’t hurt me,” my dad complained. “Let me see my girl.”

“No,” I repeated, and Coco calmed down, sitting on her haunches and looking at me expectantly. So, she did understand the word. I held my hand out for the leash and my mom handed it over. She wasn’t a weak woman, but the dog was strong, and my mom was biased. “I’ll get you guys a baby gate or something, but she can’t be jumping on you until you’re healed.”

“I was going to take her for a walk,” my mom explained.

That's how I ended up walking my dog-sister and letting my mind wander back to the night I got called to the hospital emergency room, interrupting my hookup.

My mind had been dwelling on Miles all week. His smile, his eyes, and his amazing skill. I didn’t resent my parents for pulling me away, but I did regret not pausing long enough to get Miles’ number or giving him mine.

When your mom calls you from the hospital, crying with worry over me not answering my phone and how she was going to lose us both in one night—because apparently her imagination went straight to me dying in an accident when she couldn’t get ahold of me—you don’t think about anything but getting to her side.

Some of the guys had reached out to me when they heard about my abrupt departure from the party. Mostly to make sure I wasn’t uncomfortable. I let Jefferson know my dad was in the hospital but would be alright, and they hadn’t done anything wrong. I wasn’t fully comfortable taking my dick out on a dare, but everything else had been awesome. New friends, new experiences, and Miles…

Miles wasn’t someone I could get out of my head, and I didn’t want to. But I didn’t have the time, energy, or balls to seek him out while caring for my dad.

Instead of continuing my spiraling thoughts of regret, I turned back towards my childhood home and used the code to let Coco into the garage. There was a doggy door to the backyard and she would be fine until dinner time. I took the inner stairs up to rejoin my parents, but their voices carried down to me and I stopped in my tracks.

“I don’t want you going back to your job,” Mama spoke in Tagalog. She didn’t work, always a dedicated housewife and mother, so she could only be talking about Tatang. The man who started the architecture business I helped him run and who never took vacation days. “I think it’s time to retire, Abe.”

My immediate reaction was that I should continue around the corner and help her argument, because my dad was as stubborn as a mule. He replied before I could move, and I was surprised at his words. “I think you’re right, Ann.”

Mama sighed like this was an old conversation, which was news to me. “But what about Shane? How will he ever find a spouse if he takes over the whole company?”

“I’ll be fine,” I answered her question as I let them know I’d overheard their conversation. “Tatang—his health is more important.”

“Oh,” Mama covered her mouth like I’d jumped out at her. She smoothed down her hair and looked around the room. “I think I’ll go make some coffee.”

My dad and I exchanged amused looks. Mama wasn’t big on emotional or confrontational conversations. I was the most American in my family, and even I avoided them. But some things needed to be said.

“How long have you been thinking of retiring?”

“A few years now.”

“Why haven’t you?” I asked the real question, taking a seat on the cream sofa beside him. My dad toyed with the remote but didn’t turn the TV on like he could have to avoid the topic. “And why didn’t you tell me?”

“We wanted you to settle down first. Running the whole thing won’t give you time to fall in love and give us grandchildren.”

Laughing at the mischievous sparkle in my dad’s eyes, I leaned forward and clasped my hands between my jean-clad knees. “What if I don’t want to have kids?”

“We’ll get more dogs,” Tatang shrugged and winced at the movement. He went on before I could check on him. “I only want you to be happy. Your mama does, too.”

“What do I do?” Mama asked, carrying a heavy tray into the room. I jumped up to help, and she pointed to the tray when I moved to put it over my dad’s lap. “Coffee for you both, and something to read.”

“You want Shane to be happy,” Tatang answered her question while I took my coffee and a pastry. He snatched the newspaper first but pulled out a back section to share with me.

“Thanks,” I drawled, though I read most of my news online anyway. He’d given me the culture and comics section. I hadn’t read the comics since the late nineties.

We could get into his retirement decision and if he had been hiding anything else from me over the next few days. I’d let him have a calm morning at home after the tumultuous week we’d had.

Shaking out my section, my mom sat beside me and read over my shoulder. She was fluent in English, but preferred to read books and watch shows in Tagalog. Mama wanted me to hurry up and get to the comics, which I didn’t mind. Who was dating whom and what they wore to some award show wasn’t really holding my attention.

The SF News didn’t have the classics I remembered, but they seemed to feature more modern strips. I was chuckling to myself about a political commentary done in a way that balanced topical information with visual humor well.

“Oh, my,” Mama’s eyes bulged and her cheeks pinkened. I followed her gaze to the comic at the bottom.

A rainbow-haired prince with two-different colored eyes had me doing a double-take.

The character looked so much like Miles I thought I had to be projecting. I blinked and took in the signature. M. O’Donnell was scrawled at the bottom, with Milo’s Adventures as the title. I didn’t know Miles’ last name but felt like he or someone else said he was doing taxes at the party. An accountant likely didn’t moonlight as an artist, but the resemblance was striking.

Focusing my attention on the rest of the art and what was happening, my mind ran wild with the gay sex being implied. My mom excused herself to take our cups to the kitchen, even though I wasn’t done, but the sex toys were probably too much for her.

Milo and another man called “Big” were talking about love in a sexual encounter, then the man ran off. It was giving fairy tale vibes…until you saw the cartoon dildos and mention of dicks. I chuckled and took in another detail. The man was lamenting his large dick.

There were too many coincidences between my brief time with Miles and this comic. The only thing that didn’t parallel that game night was them getting together at the end and finding out my—um, Big’s dick was a perfect fit for Milo .

It was time to reach out to our mutual friends.