Thou Shalt (Try To) Honor Thy Father

Five words to describe Mr. Theodore Colt, Nick's father:

1) A**hole
2) A**hole
3) A**hole
4) A**hole
5) A**hole

ADAM: Does that mean things didn't go well?
ME: Not at all, actually.

I had debated whether or not to go see Nick's family regarding his disappearance. I didn't want to worry them, but if they knew where he was, it could put this whole issue to rest. While I was wrestling with what to do, the problem was solved for me.

VOICEMAIL: Hi, this is Eugenia Colt, Nick's mother. He left this number with us and said you'd be by to pick up his belongings. Tuesday at four would be a good time for us. Have a good day.

It took me a second to realize it wasn't someone calling to find out when their dry-cleaning was going to be picked up. Mrs. Colt's voice was crisp and Connecticut-ian. Maybe Nick had alerted her that he was moving. Maybe, to her, it wasn't a disappearance at all. Either way, I was on my way to their house on Tuesday.

ADAM: And?
ME: That's where I met Teddy.

Mrs. Colt opened the front door. She was off and running on some sort of verbal tangent as she showed me around the house that Nick had lived in, but that I had never visited. It was the household of a wealth, which was surprising since Nick had never given anyone the impression that he was well off in any way.

It was in Nick's bedroom that we encountered Teddy.

Theodore "Teddy" Colt looked like a former linebacker. He's a big, foreboding man; the kind of man who runs a police force or kills for money.

And upon meeting him, he had a knife in his hand.

He motioned to me with the knife, and then stabbed a box on the floor which appeared to be filled with clothing.

TEDDY: What's he doing here?
EUGENIA: This is Nick's friend. He's here to get his things.
TEDDY: His things aren't going anywhere. You had no right to pack them either.
EUGENIA: Teddy, it's what he wants.
TEDDY: Damn what he wants!

Another stab wound in the box. I could imagine little slits being made in Nick's polos.

ME: I'm sorry, but where is Nick exactly?
TEDDY: You tell us. You're his--

He shuddered in disgust.

EUGENIA: Boyfriend, Teddy. He's his boyfriend.
ME: Excuse me?
EUGENIA: Teddy's still living in the 50's.
TEDDY: I don't have a problem with him being--you know--
EUGENIA: Gay.
TEDDY: Yeah, that. But I don't like my son lying to me and then skipping out in the middle of the night--
ME: What?
TEDDY: Then sending me a note saying he wants all his things packed up and given to somebody I haven't even met. If he wants his things, he's going to have to come and get them himself.
EUGENIA: Maybe if the last words you said to each other were screamed at the top of your lungs--
TEDDY: HE WAS SCREAMING, I--
EUGENIA: FINE!
ME: ONE SECOND!

They both looked at me.

ME: Have either of you talked to Nick since he left?
EUGENIA: He won't call. He's proud like his father.
ME: So you waited all this time to call me--
EUGENIA: We only just found the note when I started cleaning out his room the other day.
ME: Can I see the note?
TEDDY: I ripped it up. I won't bow down to what my son--
ME: It had my number on it?
EUGENIA: Yes.
ME: And he called me his boyfriend?
TEDDY: Look, I don't know what you people call each other--
ME: I'm not though. We're not dating. We're just friends.
EUGENIA: A more casual arrangement?
ME: No! No arrangement at all. And Nick hasn't spoken to me in months. I don't know why he'd want me to get his stuff and then not tell me where he was going.

Part of me worried that this would be when they'd freak out. They'd realize that their son had vanished and all hell would break loose.

EUGENIA: Well, I'm sure he's fine.

No such luck.

ME: Excuse me?
TEDDY: Nick used to do this all the time. Try to get us worried.
ME: Um, I'm worried.
EUGENIA: Don't be. He'll call eventually.
ME: But I--
EUGENIA: So you won't be getting his things?
ME: I--
TEDDY: Absolutely not! He doesn't even know where he is. How do we even know they were friends?

I was beginning to wonder that myself.

ADAM: Maybe you should start searching abandoned warehouses. Clearly this kid has gone off the deep end.
ME: Nick is not crazy, and he's not the type to do any of this. Why would he leave that note and then not call me to let me know what was going on?
ADAM: Do you think Teddy Pendergrass killed him and wrote the note as a decoy?
ME: How would that work?
ADAM: I don't know. You're the one who likes Angela Lansbury. You figure it out.
ME: I like Mame and Sweeney Todd Angela Lansbury, not Murder, She Wrote Angela Lansbury. I mean, I don't have anything against Murder, She Wrote Angela Lansbury, but--
ADAM: Is any of this really that surprising? Gays keep stuff from their parents all the time.
ME: I don't keep anything from my mom.
ADAM: What about your dad?
ME: Well, that's...different.

My father was the last person to find out I was gay. And he didn't take it...um...okay, "well" might not be the best--

DAD: Someone rip my heart out of my chest.

--Yeah, you get the point.

ADAM: So you don't think his family had anything to do with his disappearance?
ME: It's hard to say who or even why he might have disappeared. The whole thing is so confusing.
ADAM: Any chance of you giving up this wild goose chase and doing something productive with your time?
ME: Fat chance. I think this family angle may lead me to something significant.

Because, where there's family--

MOM: Airport security.

--There's trouble.

ROGER: You're not serious?

With Roger still out of work, and Christmas fast approaching, Mom's getting desperate. She's taken on extra-shifts at the hospital, and as for Bingo Night with Grandma--

Well, now she really tries to win.

And we've all been looking through the newspaper trying to find a new job for Roger. It's become our morning routine to spread out the Projo and scour it like its a page out of "Where's Waldo in the Classifieds?"

ME: Bookkeeper?
ROGER: I don't know how to bookkeep.
ME: It can't be that hard. They're just books.
DANNY: Youth minister?
ROGER: Danny, for the last time, that job doesn't pay.
DANNY: I think if you got back in with the Lord, maybe our luck would turn around.
ME: Do you have anything against being a pizza delivery guy?
ROGER: Besides the fact that I'm forty-five?
ME: How about just making the pizza?

Rory walked into the room still in his pajamas.

MOM: Rory, you have to leave for school in ten minutes.
RORY: I'm not going to school.
MOM: All right, let's hear it. Stomachache?
ME: Flu?
DANNY: Pop quiz in history?
ROGER: Earth science?

Without answering us, he sat down at the kitchen table and picked up the classified ads.

RORY: No, I'm going to get a job.
MOM: Don't be ridiculous. You're only thirteen.
DANNY: Besides, if Dad can't find a job what chance do you have.
RORY: Someone's gotta do something. We need money.
MOM: Honey, we're fine. Remember, I still have my job.
ROGER: And I'm going to get a new one soon, I promise. Even if it means airport security.
MOM: Now, c'mon. Time for school. Kev, don't forget to call the Troll today.

It's my father's birthday.

MOM: And tell him if he doesn't die by next year, I lose the ex-wife pool.
ME: Will do, Mom.

As she shuffled Rory off to get changed, I could see Roger's face fall.

ROGER: Good to know the kid's lost his faith in his old man.
ME: Roger, he's just worried. We all are, but everything's going to be fine. Besides, I think he has the right idea. Maybe I could start helping with some--
ROGER: No! Nobody is helping. We don't need any help. I can provide for this family just fine on my own.

With that, he got up and left the table.

ME: I didn't mean to make him mad.
DANNY: I think he was just afraid that his role as father was being challenged.
ME: By me?
DANNY: By all of us lately.

I guess it isn't always easy holding onto that position. Because it was my Dad's birthday, I decided my resolution would be to try--really try--to see the best in him. To honor my father in whatever way possible...

...This was going to be rough.

BETH: What about the Model House? Any new developments there?
ME: Actually, yes.

Blondie's parents had shown up the day before and they were already making waves. Blondie was bunking with Linda Cardellini, which must have been pretty awkward for her since she's sleeping with Punky, Linda's boyfriend. Her parents must be the conservative type, or so I thought, because The Greek didn't even attempt to sleep in the same room with him. Meanwhile, poor Odd Guy has the bedroom next door to Blondie's room, and I could tell he wasn't too happy with her parents' nighttime activities.

BETH: Shut up.
ME: Crazy sex.
BETH: What do you mean by crazy?
ME: Costumes.
BETH: In their daughter's bedroom?
ME: That seemed to be what was driving them the most.
BETH: And you watched this?
ME: Well, they're a very attractive couple.
BETH: Kevin!
ME: It was like a car crash! I couldn't look away!

I got all the way to the part where Blondie's Mom pretended to be Jennifer Connelly and her Dad was David Bowie before I had to bow out gracefully.

ME: I'm starting to wonder if anyone's parents are normal.
BETH: You think that's bad. You should meet Carlos' parents.
ME: Don't tell me you met them.
BETH: He needed me to be his beard.
ME: His what?
BETH: They don't know he's bisexual.
ME: So you weren't really a beard, you were more like a goatee.

Beth had worn her best outfit to the office when Mama and Papa Delgado walked in and immediately exclaimed--

PAPA D: White? She's white?
MAMA D: Ay, Carlos. What are you thinking?

Apparently they thought Beth was short for Bethita, or something.

BETH: So he got a new one.
ME: A new goatee?
BETH: Yup.
ME: Already? What did he tell his parents?
BETH: That I was an April Fool's joke.
ME: Well, that's got to make you feel good.
BETH: Did you ever try that with your Dad?
ME: Not really. I brought a girl to my sister's first birthday party and I remember him tearing up and then offering her my grandmother's wedding ring.
BETH: Wow.
ME: Yeah, Grandma wasn't too happy. She was still wearing the ring at the time, but Dad thought it was for the greater good.

When I arrived at work, the ladies were already in a stew--literally. They were all huddled around a pot of what looked to be beef stew.

ME: I see the cooking class went well last night.
MARTHA: This stuff is better than sex.
DAISY: Martha, you can't say that, you're out of date. They've come up with new positions since 1921.
MILLIE: Would you two shut up? You're ruining the stew.
ME: What did that lady put in it?

We had a woman come in and show the library patrons how to cook. Programs like that always tend to do well, but it had been awhile since the Golden Girls had been to anything like it.

MARTHA: It's her family's secret recipe. She made this batch just for us.
ME: Let me try it.
DAISY: Get your own!
ME: Daisy!
DAISY: I'm sorry. But there's only so much--
MARTHA: And we're old and going to die soon. We need our simple pleasures.
ME: Fine, keep your stew.

As I was putting my coat away, I ran into Library Boy. He had been avoiding me altogether since I gave him a rather blunt opinion regarding one of his poems.

LIBRARY BOY: Hey.
ME: Hey--ah.
LIBRARY BOY: I'm sorry?
ME: I always hate when people go 'Hey' and 'Hey.' They do it in every episode of every banal primetime soap opera. So I always try to vary it, but then, what can you say? You can't say 'Hi' or just 'How you doing?' 'Hey' does work for all intents and purposes, but I mean, it's still banal--so instead I just add an 'ah' at the end. So it's a little more friendly--'Heya.'

Did I really just say that?

LIBRARY BOY: Okay...ah.
ME: Really just...works for 'Hey.'

He laughed--thank God.

LIBRARY BOY: I just wanted to apologize for the way I acted about the poem.
ME: No, really, I should be apologizing--
LIBRARY BOY: Yeah, but let me go first.
ME: Okay.
LIBRARY BOY: You were being honest and I couldn't handle it. If I'm actually going to what I do I need to have a tougher skin.
ME: I have the same problem. Someone once called a performance I gave 'too over-the-top' and I printed out the article, pinned it to a voodoo doll of him, and burned the whole mass outside in my front lawn.
LIBRARY BOY: Really?
ME: Um...No! Just joshing you.
LIBRARY BOY: Okay.

Note to self: Keep things like that private.

Before we could continue, I was summoned to the desk by Millie. Apparently Vinny had showed up with more contract double talk.

VINNY: I figured out a way to get you girls--
ME: Cough cough.
VINNY: --And boy, some more money.

He put down a piece of paper in front of us.

ME: Wow, that's a pretty substantial raise.
MILLIE: How much more is it an hour?
VINNY: It doesn't work that way. It's a weekly raise.
DAISY: A weekly raise?
ME: Wait a second, you have us working more hours.
VINNY: And getting more money for it.
MARTHA: Of course we're getting more money, we're working more.
VINNY: Which is how you make more!
ME: I don't think so, Ebeneezer. We're not working more hours.
VINNY: It's a good deal!
DAISY: Keep this up and we're not giving you any stew.

Vinny reminds me a lot of my Dad. He could talk Nicole Ritchie into getting liposuction...Okay, I guess it might not be that hard to talk Nicole Ritchie into liposuction, but still--

JOEY: You know, before you started this blog, it seems like you had a lot of your Dad's old traits.
ME: Like what?
JOEY: Lying, lots of caffeine intake, hypocrisy--
ME: Okay, okay. I get it.
JOEY: But now you're changing, so yay you.
ME: I feel like all these nasty things have been uploaded into my mainframe.
JOEY: Get spyware.
ME: I was using a metaphor.
JOEY: Oh...Get spyware--metaphorically.
ME: I always thought there was no way I would end up like my Dad because I was gay, which would automatically make me his complete opposite, but I guess that's not the case.
JOEY: You mean your Dad's gay?
ME: No, I mean, it's not the case that we're not at all alike.
JOEY: Oh. So how are you celebrating his birthday?
ME: Family disputes and cake.
JOEY: I like cake.

Harry had made the decision that the perfect time to integrate his newly found child into the family would be at Dad's birthday party. Deana had started speaking to him again, but coolly, and Stacey and I were just trying to keep the peace by having Annie walk around and make knock knock jokes (Nobody fights in front of eight-year-olds, it's a fact.)

At seven o'clock, the doorbell rang.

ANNIE: I'll get it!
ALL: No!
ME: I'll get it, Annie.

I didn't want my sister coming face to face with her nephew before we could figure out a way to explain all this to her. Stacey had tried earlier, but when you can't come right out and say 'Your brother's a ho' it makes things a little difficult.

When I opened the front door, I had to remind myself that Harry was fifteen when he got this girl pregnant, which explained the girl standing in front of me who was actually older than Annie.

ME: Uh...hi. Hi there. Heya.

The woman standing behind her didn't look too friendly. She was in her late twenties, and was clearly not relishing the opportunity to reacquaint her daughter with her father.

BABY MAMA: You must be JR?
ME: That's me.
BABY MAMA: I'm Aimee, and this is Sarah.
SARAH: Are you my Dad?
ME: God no! I mean, I'm your Uncle...I guess.
SARAH: Can I go in now?
ME: Sure.

But both of them took a step forward.

ME: Um, sorry, but--
AIMEE: I'm not letting her go in there by herself. I don't know you people.
ME: The only thing is--Harry's fiancee is in there as well, and she's pregnant and--
AIMEE: I know all about it, but the only way he's seeing his daughter is with me there.

God, if only Sally Jesse Raphael were still on the air.

ME: I guess everybody's coming in then.

When I walked up the stairs with Sarah and Aimee, I could see everybody's mouth drop. But I trusted my family to handle this with maturity and poise.

HARRY: What the hell are you doing here?
AIMEE: I'm here to look out for my daughter.
DAD: And you're going to start now?
AIMEE: Don't you talk to me like that! You're just mad because I stopped taking your hush money.
DAD: No, you didn't. I stopped offering it. That's why you're here.
SARAH: Mommy, I don't like it here.
ANNIE: Then leave!

Great, now even Annie was getting in on the act.

ME: She's not leaving. She's family, which is exactly the reason I can't leave.
DEANNA: This is awful.
AIMEE: So this is the new victim, huh?
HARRY: Hey!
STACEY: If you're going to start trouble--
AIMEE: I'm not starting anything. And who are you? Girlfriend number three?
STACEY: I'm his stepmother!
AIMEE: Somebody's got an empty cradle.
DAD: Out! Get out!
AIMEE: If I go I'm taking Sarah with me.
DAD: Fine!
ME: Dad, no.
DAD: I don't need this on my birthday.
HARRY: Dad, you promised!

But my father never has been good with promises.

DAD: You want to see that bitch and her spawn, then you can do it on your own time. This is my birthday, and I want her gone.
AIMEE: With pleasure. Come on, Sarah.

But before she left, she threw one last parting shot.

AIMEE: By the way, new girl, how much did he offer you to get out?
DAD: BEAT IT!

And with that, they were gone.

ME: Well, that went well.

There was a brief moment of silence, and then Harry posed the question.

HARRY: Did you?
DAD: Did I what?
HARRY: Did you offer Deana anything?
STACEY: Harry--
HARRY: To go, did you?
DAD: Harry, of course I didn't--
DEANA: Ten--same thing he offered her.

Eesh...

HARRY: I'm out of here.
ME: Harry, it's Dad's birthday.
HARRY: I don't care if it's his f**king parade--
ME: Whoa!
HARRY: I'm out of here. Come on, Deana.

Then they were gone too.

STACEY: You didn't, Kev.
DAD: Hey, it worked with the first one.
STACEY: Annie and I are going to have some cake in her room. Let's go, sweetie.

And once again...

ME: Just me and you, Dad.
DAD: Eh, who needs 'em?

I stayed. I stayed because I was determined to love my father no matter what. Despite everything he's done, I would be here if it weren't for him, and that has to count for something, right?

...Right?

But by loving him was I condoning everything he's done? And could I do them one day? In some perverse attempt at helping my loved ones, could I end up just driving them all away?

CARLY: Kev, don't worry about becoming your father.
ME: You're right.
CARLY: Worry about marrying your father.
ME: F**k me.

Carly had to bring up the Freudian angle.

ME: You think I might be attracted to guys who are like my father?
CARLY: Tell me your type.
ME: Meditteranean, charming, 'I can take care of that' attitude...
CARLY: Wa la.
ME: Great. I'm screwed.
CARLY: So just do the opposite. Look for boys who don't possess those traits. Keeping you unlike your Dad won't be nearly as hard as keeping you away from boys like him. It's going to be a built in, instinctual attraction.
ME: That means I should stay far away from Derek.
CARLY: Let's no go crazy. Sexy is sexy.
ME: But you just said--
CARLY: I'll try and work my magic, but I can't make any promises.
ME: There must be somebody whose the opposite of what I want.
CARLY: Yeah, but with the World Chess Tournament going on, it might be hard to snag you someone.

Against my better judgement, I wound up calling Derek. When he didn't answer I ended up going to Coffee Exchange to catch up on my reading. Unfortunately for me, I had picked The Great Santini for my new book club selection, which isn't the best choice for someone dealing with father issues.

As soon as I received my mocha concoction, I got a text.

TEXT FROM DEREK: Come over.

I knew what that meant.

TEXT FROM ME: Come get coffee with me. Let's be civilized.
TEXT FROM DEREK: Let's f**k instead.
TEXT FROM ME: I want something better than this.
TEXT FROM DEREK: I don't know if I can promise that right now.
TEXT FROM DEREK: Is that okay? We can still have fun :o)
TEXT FROM DEREK: ?

But by that point, I had already decided not to answer. Derek was like my father. He wanted things his way, and thought a flash of a smile was all it took to get them.

All this was making me wonder what kind of father I would be one day.

JEFF: Kev, we worry about that, too.
UNCLE WILL: Part of me doesn't know if I'm ready.
ME: So should you be doing it?
UNCLE WILL: That's the thing. I can't see myself ever being fully ready, but I know I want kids, so if I wait until I'm ready--
JEFF: It'll never happen.
ME: I just don't know if I'd repeat all the same mistakes my Dad did.
JEFF: Don't worry. You'll probably just end up making new ones.
UNCLE WILL: I think the key thing is to remember that your parents didn't go completely wrong.
JEFF: Don't throw up the baby with the bathwater.
ME: You mean throw 'out' the baby with the bathwater.
JEFF: Okay, that makes a lot more sense.

When I got home that night, I was exhausted. Mom was sitting at the kitchen table doing the budget. She also had one eye on Model House.

ME: Anything new?
MOM: Odd Guy caught Marilyn and Sid Viscious again.
ME: Are you serious?
MOM: They were going at it in the living room while everyone else was sleep. I think Blondie gets her sex drive from her parents.
ME: And how did Odd Guy catch them?
MOM: He was sleeping on the couch. I guess he can't get any rest with the Mr. and Mrs. Howell going at it next door to him.
ME: Okay, that's enough of that.

I sat down next to her and watched her crunch numbers.

ME: Mom, do you think I'll end up like Dad?
MOM: Absolutely not. You're nothing like your father.
ME: Actually, in a lot of ways, I am--was--Oh, I don't know.
MOM: You want to know the key difference to being someone different than your Dad?
ME: Please.
MOM: Realizing that it's important to be different. To do things differently. The problem with your father isn't what he does, it's that he won't admit that what he does is wrong.

And as I let that sink in, I realized that what she was saying is the key reason I'm doing all this. I want to acknowledge that how I was living before was the wrong way to live, and I want to try to do things a new way. My way.

ME: Maybe I'll be lucky and be like you, Mom.
MOM: Broke and bitter?
ME: And a good person.

Maybe the trick to not growing up to be like one parent is to admit that the other is one worth emulating.