Chapter Text
The doorbell rang and Kurt ran for it, his shoes thunking on the linoleum. Burt scooped him up as he reached up for the doorknob and opened the door.
"There he is!" Burt's mother cried. "There's my Kurt!" And the child was immediately pulled from Burt's arms. "Merry Christmas, little man!"
"Hello to you, too, Mom," Burt said cheerfully, closing the door behind his parents.
"Oh, I see you any old time," his mother said, still kissing Kurt on the cheek. She disappeared deeper into the house, carrying Kurt with her.
"I swear, you'd think he was her first grandchild, not her fifth," his father said. "How you doing?"
"Not bad." Burt shook hands with his father. "Come on in."
It wasn't long before his parents were settled, watching Kurt make his attempts to get at the ornaments on the tree. Katherine sat on the floor, hugging her knees except when Kurt came to her, falling on her and begging to be swept up for tickles and hugs. Burt sat on the couch, watching his wife and son with pride and contentment.
"He's still awfully small for a two-year-old," his mother said critically. "When Millie's oldest was this age, he was wearing the 3T sizes."
"Yes, but Mildred's husband is a giant," Katherine retorted. "The doctor says he's always been small, though, and he's on the same percentile that he's been on. He's fine."
"Is it because he was so early?" Burt's dad pressed.
Burt stepped in. "Nah. All that did is made this kid a fighter. Right, buddy?" he asked. Kurt, encouraged by his father's approving voice, dashed over and tried to climb into Burt's lap. Burt gave him a boost immediately. "Gonna be hard to stop, this one," he said as Kurt nestled against his shoulder. "He's gonna be tough."
"Of course he is." Burt's mother patted Kurt's cheek and pulled him off Burt's lap. "Come to Grandma, Kurtsie."
"Don't call him that," Burt and his father chorused in unison. "Kid's a man," Burt's father added. "Don't give him a girl's nickname."
"I don't think any girl would want to be called 'Kurtsie', either," Katherine said dryly, standing up. "I hear a car in the driveway. I'll go get the door."
Soon, the small house was filled with Burt's family. His parents, his older sisters Mildred and Liz with their children, and his younger brother Andy, who'd flown out from Pennsylvania. He and Burt greeted each other a little awkwardly, but Andy's smile widened an impossible amount when Kurt came running out to investigate.
"There he is! I've got something for you, Kurt."
"It had better not be a membership for Greenpeace or something," Burt half-joked.
"Almost as bad." Andy winked at Burt, and handed Kurt a lion without a mane wearing a blue scarf.
"Andy!"
"I'm just saying, give the kid some options, Burt! Not everyone has to be a Buckeyes fan! Go Penn State! Can you say that, Kurt?"
"Go Penn State!" Kurt repeated.
"You are not my brother," Burt informed him. He laughed, but a shadow passed over Andy's face before he joined in. Andy, who was the baby of the family who had left Lima to go to college, and in Pennsylvania at that. And after all that, he'd majored in nursing, which their father grunted at and Burt wondered why he couldn't just do that in Ohio. It was a sore subject, but one Burt couldn't quite resist needling.
But Andy fixed his smile on more firmly. "You never know," he said. "He's obviously going to be brilliant." He ruffled Kurt's hair. "You take after your uncle, don't you, kiddo?"
"His mother," Burt pointed out dryly.
"She can't be too smart. She married you." Andy punched Burt in the arm and headed on in. "Guess I should go say hi to the folks, huh?" He rolled his eyes.
Andy's theatrics aside, the whole thing made Burt smile. Christmas Eve with the family, here in his home. It was exactly what he'd always wanted.
***
"I can't believe you're doing this," his father grumbled.
It was late. Liz and Millie had taken their families to a nearby motel, and Andy had already gone back to their parents' house to get some sleep. His parents sat on the couches watching as Burt and Katherine tried to sort out the pieces of a kitchen playset.
"I can't either," Burt admitted, not exactly in a good mood. The smell of whiskey coming from his father's glass wasn't helping. "You know, milk and cookies are more traditional. Can you hand me that screwdriver?" he asked Katherine.
"The kid's two," his father said. "He doesn't even know who Santa is yet. Don't know how many pieces of plastic you need for a girl's toy."
"Tom, it's gender neutral," Katherine said, the exasperation clear in her voice. "There are lots of boys in my kindergarten class that play with the kitchen sets, and that's what Kurt's daycare teachers say he plays with."
That and the dress up clothes. Burt didn't volunteer that information, and he noticed that Katherine didn't, either. Besides, he'd seen those dress up clothes. Yeah, there were princess dresses, but there were fireman suits and a racecar driver outfit and doctor clothes. Couldn't blame a kid for wanting to pretend to be any of those.
"Besides," Katherine continued, "no son of mine is going to grow up not knowing how to cook. Kids don't get married right away anymore. And unlike some people, he's not going to live off frozen waffles, canned soup, and TV dinners until he meets his wife."
"Hey! Nothing wrong with canned soup!" Burt protested.
Burt's mother cleared her throat. "So," she said. "Any… news yet?"
Burt and Katherine exchanged glances, and Burt sighed. "No. Look, Mom, I know you're excited about the possibility of another grandkid, but can you please back off?"
"Well, I don't know what you're waiting for," his mom said. "You're not getting any younger."
The truth was, they weren't waiting. They'd started trying as soon as the doctor said it was all right after Katherine had had Kurt, because if the struggle it took to get Kurt was any indication, they were in for a long wait for number two. A long, painful wait. Burt found Katherine's hand and squeezed it, and she smiled grimly at him. "We'll manage, Mom," Burt said.
"Besides, if they had another boy, then they'd have to get a dance studio," his father put in sarcastically, and Burt had to focus on restraining his wife.
"You know, it's not that big a deal about the kitchen," Burt's mother told him late that night as they looked in on Kurt. "I don't think you remember, but you used to play with one of Millie's dolls all the time. Your father, consummate soldier that he was," she rolled her eyes, "was convinced there was something wrong with you. But you know what? It might have taken me almost three decades, but now I see exactly what your little doll obsession meant. It meant you were going to be a wonderful father, Burt." She patted his arm. "Kurt's going to be okay."
"I know that," he said. He closed Kurt's door and glanced down the hall to where his father was sitting in the living room. "How's he doing?" he asked, jerking his chin in his father's direction.
His mother shrugged. "You know it's never as bad in the winter."
No. It was the humidity that set off his father's drinking. But he was still drinking tonight. But there was steel in his mother's eyes; this wasn't a conversation she was going to have right now. Again. Burt sighed.
"Have a good night, Mom," he said, capitulating.
She kissed him on the cheek. "Have a good night, sweetie."
Sweetie. He was thirty years old. He glanced back over his shoulder at his son's closed door, and promised that he would never, ever call his kid by a pet name when they were six, much less thirty.
That was for sure.
***
"I don't know how you stand him drinking like that," Katherine said as they got ready for bed.
"Because it's not like your father," Burt explained. He'd lost count of how many times he'd had this conversation. "He doesn't hit anyone. He doesn't drive. He doesn't go to work drunk. He knows what he's doing to himself. I don't know how I can make him get it."
"I know," Katherine sighed. "I just don't understand how you can accept it."
Burt shrugged. "What choice have I got? Can't dry him out myself." He slid into the bed. Katherine sighed and laid down next to him, her long blonde hair fanned out on the pillow. "Besides, he's my dad. Guess I just have to live with it."
"Mmm." She leaned in and kissed him. "You're a stronger person than I am. Or a nicer one."
"Seriously doubt that," Burt said, but he was pleased all the same.
***
Kurt loved the kitchen set. He played with it for hours on Christmas morning, carrying on long conversations with the dishes, the plastic food, and anyone who happened to be in his trajectory. Katherine was delighted, but Burt had a niggling feeling of unease about the whole thing. But that disappeared after lunch, when Kurt laid down on his stomach and spent hours meticulously lining up the Matchbox cars that Burt had bought him, despite the "ages 3 and up" on the box.
Katherine was right, he told himself. There was nothing to worry about. Kurt might like kitchens, but he liked cars, too. Everything was going to be fine.
***
When Kurt was two and a half, Katherine had her fourth miscarriage. "No," the doctor told them. "It's not a good idea to try again. I'm sorry, but I think it's for the best. You could look into adoption if you really feel like your lives won't be complete without a second child."
"No," Burt said. "We've got one perfect child already. We'll just be happy with what we've got."
Katherine was crying, but the way she squeezed Burt's hand meant that she agreed completely. They had Kurt, and if that was all they were going to have, then that was all that they'd need.
***
"Mr. Hummel." The daycare instructor greeted him with a brittle smile. "Where's Katherine?"
"She's sick today," Burt said, hands shoved in his pockets. "Kurt ready?"
Her smile was definitely forced. "Not yet." She turned around. "Kurt? Kurt, your daddy's here."
Even at the age of three, almost four, the kids were already gravitating to the boys' side and the girls' side, it appeared. Burt searched the boys' side, looking for his son.
"Daddy!" Burt looked down. Kurt was standing there, wearing a pink dress over his clothes, a crown on his head. "Do I look pretty?"
For a long moment, Burt couldn't speak. Kurt was so undeniably pleased with himself, but he was wearing a dress. "Get that thing off," he ordered his son.
Kurt's face fell. "Don't wanna," he insisted.
"Kurt," the daycare instructor broke in, "it's time for you to go. You can play with the dress again tomorrow."
Kurt looked from the dress to his father again, sighed, and then stomped off. Burt waited until he was about ten feet away before he grabbed the teacher's arm. "What the hell are you doing, letting him put that dress on?"
She looked a little scared, even after he backed off. "I'm sorry, Mr. Hummel," she said. "I did try to convince him that boys don't wear dresses, but… I'm sure you know that Kurt can throw quite the tantrum when he wants."
"I know." That was an understatement.
"It's just easier," she explained. "He doesn't hurt anyone, and we have seventeen other kids in the class."
"But it's not normal!" Burt insisted. "He's a boy! He's got no business putting on a princess dress!"
The teacher just shrugged.
Burt was quiet as he got Kurt into his jacket and then into the car. Kurt didn't notice; he was telling Burt about some craft they'd done. Burt only half listened until they were driving.
"So," he said, watching Kurt in the rear view mirror. "Do you play dress up a lot?"
Kurt nodded. "I play dress up with Carrie and Madison. We get to be princesses!"
"Princesses," Burt said dryly. "What about the boys?" Kurt didn't answer, and Burt looked back over his shoulder. "Kurt? What about the boys?"
"I like playing with Carrie and Madison," Kurt insisted quietly. It was the kind of quiet stubbornness that Burt knew would lead to a screaming fit if he argued with it. He decided to switch tactics.
"What else do you like to do at school?"
"I like painting," Kurt said. "And art."
"What about the cars? Do you play with the cars?"
"Sometimes," Kurt said, looking out the window.
"Hey, I've got an idea," Burt said, lightening considerably. "Maybe we can get you a racetrack for your birthday, huh? Or even go to a real racetrack? How would you like that?"
Kurt didn't answer.
"Kurt? Does that sound good, buddy?"
"Yeah," Kurt said, with no real enthusiasm.
"What do you want for your birthday?"
Kurt looked away from the window and right at the front seat, so Burt could see his eyes. "A pair of sensible heels."
***
"Would you stop overreacting?" Katherine scowled, blowing her nose irritably. "I just said yesterday that I needed to find a pair of sensible heels. Trying to teach in those… things you find in the stores today… it's impossible." She punctuated her sentence with a furious blowing.
"He had on a dress!" Burt said. "This isn't just some kid imitating his mother, Katherine! There's something really wrong!"
"Not necessarily!"
"He plays with girls!"
"So what? You got a problem with girls?"
"He should be playing with boys!"
"Because girls aren't as good?" Katherine said sharply. "Because girls are somehow lesser than boys?"
"That's not what I mean, and you know it. This is about our son."
"That's right," Katherine said, "this is about our son, and how you're teaching him to think of women. If you forbid him to play with girls, you're teaching him that girls are second class citizens!"
Oh, shit. He did not need Katherine on her soap box right now. Burt took a deep breath. "Look, Katherine. I'm not saying anything of the kind, okay?" Her dubious expression didn't disappear. "But I'm worried."
"What are you worried about?" Katherine bit off.
There was a word lingering on the dark edges of his brain. A word that clenched his stomach and his fists, and made him want to scream with the wrongness of it. Katherine stared at him expectantly, but he couldn't bring himself to think it, much less say it. Just saying it might make it true. "Nothing," he finally mumbled. "Guess I'm just tired."
Katherine blew her nose again and glared at him.
***
Kurt might love princess dresses and sensible heels, but the one thing he loved even more was his father. Burt knew that, because every time he came home, Kurt dropped whatever he was doing and came running, arms open, ready to be scooped up. And every he picked that little boy up, it warmed Burt's heart.
Kurt loved to go for walks, holding Burt's hand and either talking a mile a minute or singing. He loved to go into the garage, too, and to talk to the mechanics, the customers, the suppliers… hell, Kurt would pretty much talk to anyone. And Burt didn't think he was biased when he thought that they were enjoying it. Over and over again, people told him how smart and articulate his little boy was, how advanced… the daycare teacher even tossed out the word gifted.
The idea that Kurt was intelligent shouldn't have been out of the ordinary to Burt. After all, Katherine had her college degree, and she could have been so much more than a teacher in a small Ohio town. And Andy had always been top of his class. But to hear that his son was so bright filled him with a pride he hadn't known was possible. And maybe that's what all this was about. It wasn't Kurt being girly, or being prissy, or being… his mind veered away from the words he was thinking. It was about Kurt being smart.
And yeah, that could make Kurt's life hell. Burt knew that as well as anyone. But maybe it wouldn't be that bad. Because there were a lot of kids that were smart, too, and didn't get singled out for shit. Hell, Katherine herself, as far as Burt knew.
He looked into the family room, where Kurt was lying on the floor, playing with his Matchbox cars. The kid was four, for crying out loud. Everything was going to be all right.
Gifted. He smiled.
***
Princess dresses and Matchbox cars. Heels and sneakers. Tricycles and kitchens and crayons and Play-doh. Transformers and Legos. Kurt's childhood was a whirlwind of brightly colored plastic and toys that Burt didn't fully understand. But he put his foot down the day Kurt asked for a Barbie.
"No," he told Katherine that night ad they cleaned up the kitchen. "Absolutely not."
"Burt, it's a-"
"A what?" he demanded. "A phase? Is that what you're going to tell me? Because I'll tell you, Katherine, this has been going on too long to be a phase."
"And what if it has?" Katherine shot back. She hadn't raised her voice, but her eyes narrowed. "What if it's not a phase, Burt?"
"What do you mean?"
She stared at him, and then deliberately set the pan she was cleaning down on the counter. "Fine. I'll say it out loud. What if our son is gay?"
It was exactly what he was thinking, but to hear the words put so baldly to it hurt. It made him sick to even hear it. "He's not," Burt denied, shaking his head. "He's not going to be." Katherine's eyes bored into him. "He's not," Burt insisted again. "All those dolls and dresses… they aren't right, but they don't mean…" he remembered something she always liked to say. "Stereotyping," he said. "It's stereotyping." He paused. "Isn't it?"
"So what if it is?" she asked. "Because you know what, Burt? Stereotypes exist for a reason, and sometimes people fall into them. And Kurt…" she trailed off meaningfully.
"So what are you saying?"
"I'm saying we'd just better get used to the idea that our son may very well be gay." Katherine bit the words out. "It's not written in stone, but I think we'd better be prepared for the possibility."
Burt sat down, his stomach churning. "You're sure." She had to be joking. She had to be.
"No. I just told you that-"
"No, it wasn't a question." He looked up at her. "You're sure. You think Kurt's gay."
Katherine shrugged. "It wouldn’t surprise me."
"He's gay." The word felt so heavy in his mouth. Gay. And now that she said it, a world of things that Burt didn't understand opened up in front of him: limp wrists and lisps and cross-dressing and fishnet stockings and makeup and rainbow flags and AIDS. He took off his cap and ran his fingers through his hair.
"Look," Katherine went back to scrubbing the pots in the sink, "it's not the end of the world," she said, in a voice that was an attempt at false cheerfulness. "We don't know anything for sure yet. And even if he is gay, life's not like what it used to be for… for… homosexuals." She swallowed hard. "I mean, look at all the celebrities that come out now. There's that Ellen. She just came out. And there's… Greg Louganis. Elton John."
"Name me an athlete that's not a figure skater that says they're gay," Burt shot out.
Katherine treated him to a withering glare. "First, I just did. Second, gay or straight, Kurt is not going to be a professional athlete," she said. "You've seen him run."
Burt had, all flailing hands and on his toes. He sighed. "Fine," he said. "That's not the important part anyway. Name me one person – one person here in Lima, Ohio – one person that we know, that's gay and is happy about it." She was silent. "You can't, can you?" he demanded. "And there's a reason for that. People don't do that around here!"
"That you know of! It's not like people come into the garage and introduce themselves to you with a 'hi, can you change my oil and rotate my tires, and by the way, I'm gay!'"
"That doesn't change this. That doesn't change any of this," Burt ground out. "The fact is that the-"
The phone rang.
It was a sharp, jarring sound in their conversation, and it froze them both. People didn't often call them after Kurt's bedtime, unless something was wrong. Burt spared one more angry look for his wife and then yanked the receiver out of the cradle. "Hello?"
"Burt?"
"Dad?" Burt sat down slowly. "What's wrong?"
"It's your mom." His father sounded so broken. "She had a heart attack."
"What? When? Is she all-"
"Burt?"
"Dad?"
"She's dead."
He stared at the receiver, overcome with shock.
***
Burt picked Andy up at the airport. Andy was quiet and subdued.
"How's the family?" Andy asked, when they'd been driving in silence for a while.
"All right. How are you?"
Andy looked broken. "I was going to come home in a few weeks. I didn't tell her, but I was going to come. And I was going to bring Alyssa."
"Alyssa?" Burt realized he had no idea of what his brother's dating life was like, a realization that was brought home when Andy reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring box.
"Alyssa."
"Wow. Congratulations." Burt wanted to muster enthusiasm, but he just couldn’t.
Andy wasn't offended. "Yeah. Thanks," was all he said, and then looked out the window. "So much that Mom's going to miss, you know? She always wanted me to settle down and get married. I think she was afraid I was queer."
Burt's hands jerked and the car swerved. Andy shouted and grabbed the handle on the door, and Burt managed to straighten everything out.
"Whoa. You okay?" Andy asked.
"Yeah. Sorry." Burt's knuckles were still white as his hands gripped the steering wheel. "You aren't, are you?"
Andy made a dismissive noise. "Of course not," he scoffed. "Just slow off the mark. But Mom won't… I really wanted her to meet Alyssa. Because Dad…" he sighed. "I'm sure Alyssa won't be good enough for Dad."
"Dad hasn't liked anyone we've married," Burt pointed out. "He hates Katherine."
"Big shock," Andy said dryly. "She voted for Clinton."
"And so did you."
Andy shrugged. "It's more than that with Katherine, though. You know that, right?"
Burt looked at him from the corners of his eyes. "No."
"It's the family thing. The fact she doesn't talk to hers. I know she's got reasons," he said before Burt could interrupt and defend his wife. "But they don't think it's right. Family should stick together."
"I think they wouldn't like her even if she was Marcia Brady when it came to her family," Burt muttered.
"Probably not," Andy conceded, "and that's why Alyssa's not going to be good enough. She's not a good little Stepford housewife and she won't bring me back to Lima and she won't get me to join the NRA or whatever it is Dad wants." He tried to say it casually, but there was bitterness there. "I wouldn't want your life, Burt, but sometimes I really envy you."
"Don't," Burt said sharply, uncomfortable for reasons he couldn't explain. Maybe because he'd never done anything to gain that status, or maybe because right now everything seemed like shit. "I need to concentrate," he said. "Damn roads."
"All right," Andy said, and they road the rest of the way in silence, broken only by the radio.
***
Burt never went down to the hospital, so the first time he saw his mother's body was at the wake. And that was when the terrible realization hit: his mother wasn't going to be here.
Kurt was four years old, and she wasn't going to be here to tell Burt what to do. She wasn't going to be able to guide him or ground him or reassure him that everything was going to be all right. She wasn't going to be able to change anything or help him. She'd done so much for them for the four short years of Kurt's life – taught them both how to change a diaper, how to give a baby a bath, helped them potty train, been on call when Kurt was sick… the list went on and on. And now, when it was becoming clear that things were going to stay confusing, she was gone. Burt didn't know if he could do it without her.
Late that night, after the service and the funeral and the guests and the food, he checked in Kurt. Kurt was asleep in his bed, feet up by his pillow and head at the other end, nestled tight in a nest of stuffed animals, lying on his back with a hand next to his face.
"You don't even know what happened today, do you?" Burt asked softly. He brushed a hand over his son's soft hair. "She loved you, you know. She'd keep loving you."
He sighed. "I know you've probably just got your foot in the door of Heaven, Mom, but do me something, will ya? Watch over Kurt. Change this. Just… make him normal. And happy. Please. Don't let him go… the way we're afraid of him going. Please."
Kurt stirred in his sleep, clutching his stuffed elephant tighter. Burt leaned over, dropped a quick kiss on Kurt's head, and ducked out before he could wake up.
***
"Daddy?"
"Yes, Kurt?" Burt was slumped in a chair, staring moodily at nothing. It had been three weeks since his mother died, and it was only hurting more. But Kurt was oblivious.
"Play with me?"
He didn't feel like playing, but it wasn't fair to Kurt to say so. "Sure, buddy. What do you want to play?"
"Tea party."
Burt cringed. "Not today. How about we do a puzzle instead?"
Kurt got that expression that meant a tantrum was coming. "I want to have a tea party," he insisted.
"Okay, okay, we'll have a frikking tea party," Burt muttered. He couldn't deal with one of Kurt's fits right now.
He watched his son as he reluctantly slid to the floor. Kurt was in his glory, his thin, high voice piping as he poured tea, as he served plastic cookies, as he found an old scarf his mother had given him and wrapped it around his neck. Burt sat woodenly, responding only when Kurt asked him a direct question, and then with the minimum number of words.
Maybe it was the grief, or maybe it was just how obvious everything was when Kurt played games like this, but everything Kurt did and said grated across Burt's nerves. Every giggle, every question, every swish and pour of tea. He tried to tell himself it was just a kid thing, but it all sharpened and pointed to one thing.
Gay. Gay, gay, gay, gay. As his son played a girl's game, Burt couldn't see the smile or the freckles or the intelligence or the joy. All those things his son might be, all of them were eclipsed by one simple word.
Gay.
Prissy and girly, weak and effeminate, flighty and uncommitted… everything he never wanted a son of his to be, that's what Kurt would become. That's what Kurt was becoming.
Burt abruptly stood up and left the room, angry at everything.
***
"Maybe we should try again. Think about adoption or something," Burt said suddenly that night as they were getting ready for bed.
Katherine looked up, startled. "What?"
"Family of four. That's what we always wanted, right? We could start looking into it again. Maybe get a little brother for Kurt."
Katherine's eyes narrowed. "A little brother?"
"Yeah."
She set her hairbrush down very deliberately. "You know we'd have better chances of adopting a girl," she said slowly. "Especially if we adopted from Asia, although you won't let us do that because of your father."
"You want a little kid to deal with my father?" Burt asked. "You know what my father would say about a kid from over there."
Katherine picked her brush up again. "I do," she said finally. She didn't seem happy about any of this.
"So what do you say?" Burt asked. "Want to think about it?"
"No," Katherine said. "I don't." She put down her brush and climbed into bed, curled up against the edge, as far as she could get from his side. "Good night, Burt."
***
The anger curled itself into a ball inside his chest. He found himself snapping more and more.
"Stop crying! It's just a skinned knee!"
"Get that necklace off. It's for girls."
"Don't cry over it. Boys don't cry, all right? Be a man!"
"For God's sake, Kurt, get off! You're getting to big to act like this!"
And as he pushed his son away, his wife retreated further into the distance, her mouth pressed into a thin, tight line.
***
"Mommy?" Kurt, who was six, looked up from where he was sitting on the floor, coloring something that he said was Katherine and Burt getting married, but looked more like space aliens disembowling their victim.
"Yes, Kurt?" Katherine asked idly. Burt glanced at her over the top of his newspaper. She looked tired and drawn.
"Can boys marry boys?"
Burt's hands tightened around the paper. Katherine's eyes immediately flew to Burt, but her spine straightened, especially as he stayed silent. "Not yet, sweetheart. At least not in Ohio. But maybe someday," Katherine said lightly.
"Maybe someday?" Burt muttered. "Maybe someday? And you wonder why our kid is shaping up to be a fag, when you talk like that?"
"Kurt," Katherine's voice was steely and gentle at the same time, "take your crayons and play in your room."
"But I don't want to-"
"Kurt!"
Kurt muttered something, but picked up his crayons and flounced to his room. Katherine waited until she heard his door slam shut before she turned on Burt.
"You-"
"What do you want me to say, Katherine?" Burt was ready for her attack. "Huh? That we should- that we should just go along with this? Encourage him? That we should just teach him that this is all okay? Because I'll tell you, it's not all okay."
"You're right, Burt. This isn't okay," Katherine said. "None of how this is working is okay. Kurt is who he is, and if he's going to be-"
"He's not gonna be a fairy, okay?" Burt shouted. "Not in this town!"
"Don't you get it, Burt?" Katherine shouted right back. "This is not some choice Kurt is making. He isn't even old enough to know what sex is!"
"So we should be teaching him-"
"Teaching him what? That sex between two men is wrong?"
"Yes!"
Katherine's hands were clenched into tight fists as she took deep breaths, obviously trying to control herself. "Look," she ground out, her voice rough and strained, "I'm confused, too. But one thing is clear to me; if Kurt is gay, he's not choosing it for himself. He's too little to understand rebellion, and he's too little to understand sex and orientation. If he's gay- and that is still an 'if', Burt – this is just… how he was born."
"How he was born," Burt scoffed. "No it isn't. We encouraged it. It's our fault. We bought him that kitchen set. We let him play with those dresses. You read him those books and took him to see that Fantasia 2000 and you-"
"Don't you dare do that!" Katherine shot back. "Don't you dare put this on me! That's not how this works!"
"Oh yeah? How does it work then?"
"He just is! If he's gay, then he's just gay! He's too little to have the first idea of what it means; all he seems to know is that he might want to marry a boy someday!"
"You know that?" Burt said. "Did he say that?" Katherine didn't answer, and the anger washed over him. "Did he say that!?"
"Yes!" Katherine shouted. "He did! He asks me about it every now and then! Can boys marry boys? Can a boy love a boy?"
"And you tell him it's okay?"
"Well, what else am I supposed to say?"
"It's not okay!" Burt shouted. "It's not okay, and it's never going to be okay, and I am not going to have a prissy little faggot for a son!"
The words fell between them, and Katherine drew herself up sharply. "Then you're not going to have a son," she said.
"What?" Burt asked, confused as hell. "Don't be ridiculous. I-" but Katherine was already storming off towards their bedroom. "Where are you going?"
She didn't answer. Burt glared around the room, and then kicked a discarded truck under the couch. Back in the bedroom, he heard Katherine banging around. When he glanced down the hall, he saw that Kurt's door was still closed. Anger was still coursing through him, but with Katherine not in the room glaring at him like it was all his fault, he could at least think again.
Faggot. He said the word again in his head. "Fag," he said, out loud, to the living room at large. He made a face and his stomach twisted. He supposed it should feel better to just be able to say the word. It didn't.
How could Katherine not understand? This was their son they were talking about. It wasn’t some news article or some kid in California. Not some test case or some psychological study. It was their kid. Their boy, who was facing a life like this. And their boy deserved for them to try to change it.
Katherine was still angrily banging around in their bedroom. Burt took a deep breath and headed down the hall. They had to work this out.
He wasn't sure what he expected when he opened the door. Maybe Katherine throwing something at his head, maybe her flat out ignoring him… he didn't know. But he knew he wasn't expecting her to be throwing clothes from a laundry basket to a suitcase. His blood turned cold. "What are you doing?"
"I'm leaving," Katherine said. "We're leaving. Me and Kurt."
"What?" Burt stared at her, completely dumbfounded. The chill intensified.
Katherine wiped her cheeks. "I love you, Burt. I do. But I have to do what's right for Kurt, and I can't have him around you right now."
"Come on, that's ridiculous," Burt said, staring disbelievingly at the suitcase. "You can't expect me to be happy about this, and just because I'm not doing some dance of joy that our kid is gay… I don't want to just lie down and accept this. We can fix this. I know we can."
She laughed hollowly. "Fix this," she mocked.
"Fix this," Burt repeated. "We can find a way… we can fix this."
"He's not sick. It's not like he has cancer or something. You know that." She pushed a lock of hair behind her ear irritably and stuffed a stack of underwear into the suitcase.
"I know. Be easier if he did," Burt said.
Katherine stilled. "What?"
"It would be easier to deal with something like that," Burt said. "We could go to the doctors, get him some medicine… people understand that. I understand that."
"So you would rather have a son with cancer than a gay son."
Something about her question made Burt feel like his entire life hung on his answer. "Just said it would be easier."
Katherine shook her head angrily and went back to packing her bag. "Then I'm definitely doing the right thing." She pulled the suitcase shut and zipped it. "If it was just me, I could handle this. But I won't do this to Kurt." She wiped her cheeks again. "Kurt and I are leaving, Burt. And unless you get your head out of your ass, we're not coming back."
Burt stood in the doorway, shaking his head and that cold feeling coursing through his body even faster. "No. You're joking. You can't be leaving. Katherine, we can work this out. We can-"
She stopped. "No, we can't work this out. You have to work this out. When you do, come find me. But don't you dare find me until then."
He could stop her. He could block her way, grab her arms, make her stay. He could shout and rage, he could fight her… but he couldn't. All he could do was stand there and stare as Katherine picked up her suitcase.
"I'll come back to get more of Kurt's things when you're at the garage," she said. She stopped right in front of him, leaned in, then shook her head and pulled away. "Good bye, Burt."
"Wait," he said frantically as she left the room. "We can-"
"We can't."
She was really going to do this. That cold feeling solidified, and he was completely frozen. He stared at his wife as if she was a stranger, unable to feel anything. Unable to do anything, or say anything that would change her mind. Her face was set, and he knew without a doubt this was what she looked like when she left her parents' house. You couldn't stop Katherine when she was like this.
But one small thing remained, one small ember that broke through all of the cold and ice inside him and flickered long enough to hurt. "Don't I get to say goodbye to Kurt?"
She nodded, her lips pressed together.
They walked to Kurt's room together. When Katherine opened the door, they saw him laying on the floor, the crayons scattered near him. Kurt looked up with wide, inquisitive eyes when he saw his parents.
"Kurt?" Katherine said with a gentle brightness. "You and Mommy are going to take a little trip. Just the two of us. Okay?"
"What about Daddy?" Kurt asked.
"Daddy…" Katherine looked at Burt, and then braced her shoulders. "Daddy has to work. It's just going to be you and me for a while, okay, sweetie? Get George and Jack, and we'll go."
Kurt got up and ran over to his bed to get his stuffed elephant and tiger. "I don't want to go without Daddy."
This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. Burt looked at the little boy that had been his light and his life, and it didn't really get through that this kid was leaving. That his family was… he closed his mind angrily and knelt down. Family sticks together.
But this was happening, even if it felt like it was happening to someone else.
"Go with Mom and be good, okay, buddy?" he asked. And when Kurt hugged him, his little arms tight around Burt's neck, that little ember flared again. "Bye, buddy," he said, his mouth against Kurt's soft hair.
He walked with them through the family room, out to the garage, watched as Katherine buckled Kurt in. The click of the straps, the dull blue of the car, the scent of her perfume mixing with the gasoline and oil smells of the garage. Katherine opened the door, and then climbed into the car. And without another word, she left.
She left.
Burt was left standing in the garage, the car gone, his wife gone, his son gone… his hands in his pockets as he watched the tail lights dwindle. He went into the house and closed the door.
And then he put a fist through the wall.
***
The living room was quiet. Burt knelt down and pulled the truck he'd kicked out from under the couch, put it in a pile with some tinker toys. There were some Matchbox cars scattered in one corner, and a string of bright beads in another. He put them all in a small pile.
He methodically cleaned the blood from his hand, swept up the dust from the drywall. He stared at the hole in the wall, ignored the whispered thought that it was like a hole in himself. Pushed the thought away, turned back to the silent house.
The kitchen still had the remains of dinner. He did the dishes, washing plates and pots and bowls. His plate, clean. Katherine's plate, where she'd picked the carrots out of the casserole she'd made. Kurt's plate, where the carrots and pasta were gone but most of the chicken remained. He dumped it into the disposal and ran it.
It was so quiet without Kurt or Katherine.
His hand was still sore from where he'd put it through the drywall. He stared down at it for a long moment, like it belonged to someone else, and then shook his head and went back to the bedrooms.
Kurt's small room was so still and dim without him. Burt looked around at the toys, neatly stowed considering that the room's occupant was six years old. He sat down on Kurt's bed, clumsily made with a plain blue comforter and a furry hot pink blanket. Some of Kurt's stuffed animals were still there. Burt picked up a bear- creatively named Beary- who had been Kurt's favorite once upon a time. That poor bear had been dragged everywhere until George came along. He settled the bear in his lap and looked around the room.
He ended up falling asleep there on Kurt's bed, a mostly-discarded stuffed animal clutched in his arms.
***
The dead feeling wasn't gone the next day. Burt called into work and told them he was out sick, and then got in his truck and drove over to his father's house.
He sat in the driveway, staring blindly at the house he'd grown up in. Small and neat, but with the grass a little long and the flowerbeds untamed. Finally, he turned the engine off and got out of the truck.
The door was unlocked. Burt let himself in, looking around. The place was a mess. Not a disgusting mess, but a mess. Old newspapers still around, dishes in the sink, a shirt draped over an armchair. Things his mother wouldn't have let go when she was still alive.
"Dad?"
No answer.
He drifted to the wall, where pictures hung. The wedding picture of him and Katherine hurt, but worse was the picture of Kurt, smiling as he sat in a chair. He looked away from those, to the other pictures. Andy on his graduation day and with Alyssa, Millie and her husband and their kids, Liz and her brood. All smiles, all happy. And then pictures of his parents, here and there. Family sticks together. He wished he could get that thought out of his mind.
He heard running water, and relaxed. His father was showering. Burt ambled back out to the kitchen. There were empty whiskey bottles in the trash. He frowned as he spotted them, and bent over to pick one up. There were take-out bags in the trash as well. He threw the whiskey bottle out, not wanting to think about that right now.
He made his way to the room that he had shared with Andy when they were growing up but now served as a den. He noticed his mother's sewing basket was still sitting by her chair, and there were three unwashed glasses beside his father's. Pictures of the grandchildren smiled from the wall, as well as his father's framed Purple Heart and Bronze Star. Tucked in the corner, but out. They'd never been out when Burt was a kid. He leaned over and looked at them closely.
"Burt."
He'd been so lost in thought he hadn't heard the water shut off, and now his father was standing behind him in a robe with wet hair. "Hey, Dad."
"Shouldn't you be at work?" His father looked genuinely confused. "What's wrong?"
Katherine left me. Burt opened his mouth to say the words, but they wouldn't come out.
"Burt?"
"I just… I took the day off."
"All right." His father was obviously confused, but he took a step back. "Well, give me a minute to get dressed then." Burt nodded and wandered back out to the living room.
He was sitting on the couch when his father came out. "You want anything?" his father asked.
"Nah. I'm good."
"You look like you could use a drink."
"Probably could," Burt agreed, "but I don't want one."
"Well, I'm getting one."
It was ten o'clock in the morning. Burt watched his father pour a whiskey, but didn't say a word.
"How's retirement working out for you?" he asked when his dad sat back down.
"It's all right." His dad leaned back in his chair. "Can't complain." But there was something false about that, something… lonely. The house still seemed so empty without his mom there. Like they were just waiting for her to come home. "Lots of time to myself, working on the golf game."
"Yeah."
"How's Kurt?" his dad asked. Burt looked down at his hands. His dad leaned forward. "Wait, that's not what this is about, is it? Is he okay? He's not sick, is he?"
"He's not sick. He's healthy."
His dad heaved a sigh of relief, but he didn't sit back. "He in trouble at school?"
"He's in first grade. How much trouble can he be in?" Burt asked.
It was a rhetorical question, but his dad didn't seem to take it that way. "Not with the teachers," he said. "With the other kids."
Burt bristled. "What do you mean?" Even though he knew. He knew exactly what his dad meant. And his dad knew it too. His gaze was level and direct. Burt sighed. "Yeah, I know. He's a sissy."
"That's not what I said."
"It's what you meant."
"No it isn't. What I mean is, you've got to be careful or you're going to end up with a fairy on your hands."
Once again, it was almost a relief to hear it stated out loud, even as it made Burt cringe. "Yeah, I know," he said. "That's what I told Katherine, and she freaked."
"She would." His father shifted, slouching lower. "Sometimes I wonder why you married her."
"Yeah, I know."
"She's not our type, kiddo," his dad explained. "Don't get me wrong, she's a good woman. She really is. She just reminds me of those fucking flower children." His dad took a deep drink and grimaced. "Not the peace and love ones. The ones that got all up in our faces when we came home, said we were criminals for doing what we did. I can see that in her. If she'd been my age, she would have done that. And burned her bra."
"Probably," Burt admitted glumly. He thought of the rants on women as second-class citizens and misogyny and seventy-five cents to the dollar. Things about the world that he'd never really paid much mind to, but couldn't deny once Katherine pointed them out.
There wasn't much Burt could deny once Katherine pointed it out. She was good at that. And usually, he liked it. Katherine was someone who could change the world if she wanted to.
"Don't really know how you stand it," his father continued. "And that whole mess with her parents? It's just not right. And it's not a good message to send to Kurt. He ever ask about them?"
Burt just shrugged. "Once in a while. She handles it well."
"Humph." His father looked skeptical, but this was a subject that had long since been argued. "Now, your mom, she was never like that. She kept her mouth shut more." He gestured with his glass. "Better that way."
"Yeah," Burt said, feeling like a traitor. He stared at a patch of carpet on the floor. "Wish Mom was here, though."
"Yeah, I do, too. Cause whatever's on your mind, I'm obviously shit at talking about it." Burt looked up sharply, and they smiled at each other. Not full smiles, just little half smiles that looked almost exactly alike. "Come on," his dad said. "Let's go get something to eat. There's nothing in the fridge."
"All right," Burt said, standing up. He looked around the living room one more time. From an end table, a picture of Kurt smiled at him, stabbing his gut and tearing at his heart.
Burt looked away.
***
There were a lot of things Burt Hummel had never known about his own father.
He hadn't known that his father's grandparents owned a coal mine in Ohio, but that the labor union had set fire to it during a strike. He hadn't known that both his grandparents were in World War II; his grandmother as a nurse and his grandfather as a chaplain. He never knew that his own father had started work right out of high school, or met his mother at a bingo game. He'd never thought about it to realize that they only knew each other three months before they got married.
He'd never known that his sister Mildred had been born seven months after their marriage, or that Liz had been born early like Kurt, or that Andy hadn't been planned. He'd never heard his father talk about their baby days. His mother had, Burt had dutifully listened to her stories, but his father had never said a word about them before today.
There was so much that Burt didn't know, and the biggest thing he'd never realized was just how little he knew about his own father until that day in the diner. He couldn't talk, so his father had filled the silence, rambling about himself. It had left Burt shaken, in some distant corner of his mind that he didn't want to access right now. He watched the lonely man sitting across from him at the table, the stink of stale whiskey clinging to him as he fumbled in trying to comfort a son who didn't know how to connect to him.
Family sticks together. It was a mantra in his head, something that Burt had been saying to himself over and over since the night before. Longer, really. Family sticks together, and that was why he hadn't even thought about packing up and leaving. That was why, angry as he was at what Kurt was becoming, his son's absence burned in his soul. Because Kurt and Katherine were his family. And so was his father.
He loved his father. Burt knew that, right down to the core. But even as they sat in the diner talking, he couldn't tell his father about what was happening right now. That Katherine and Kurt were gone, leaving his life. He wanted to believe that it was just too soon and the pain was too raw, but that wasn't the truth. The truth was….
The truth was he didn't want this. He didn't want them gone. But to say that meant… to say that meant so much more than he was ready to say.
And if he told his father that Katherine left, he'd have to explain the why of it. He'd have to admit to everything, have to listen to what his father would say. What he'd say about Katherine, what he'd say about Kurt…
Family sticks together wouldn't be the saying of the day. It would be that Burt had had a close one, maybe. That he never trusted Katherine anyway. Never liked her. That maybe Burt was better off without a fag for a son. That maybe Kurt needed to be away, in a place for people like him. That they'd stick together, the two of them. And then there would be more silent dinners with his father while they coped with their losses, more invitations to drink and drown the past. That little ember of pain flared into something much larger, and Burt realized that he could be looking at his own life. Not in thirty years, but in thirty days. There weren't many times that life offered so clear cut a crossroads, with only two choices and two outcomes. But this was one of those times.
His father could have been out of his life. He'd been gone for years when Burt was a toddler and come back a silent man that Burt now realized no one knew. His father could have left, could have spiraled down, could have… there were so many worse things his father's life could have been. But because he'd held on somehow, because he'd made efforts, he was sitting here in a diner with his son. They might not know how to talk to each other on this level, they might not connect… but they were here. And Burt sure as hell knew that counted for something.
He picked up the bill and paid it, and drove his father home. There were no embraces, no exchanged words, nothing more than a goodbye. But the ice in him was beginning to crack, and Burt was starting to see exactly what he had to do.
***
The house was still silent when he came home. The shades hadn't been put up and the dishes were still in the sink. There was a stale, musty feeling to the rooms, although it was better than his father's house. Burt looked around, thought he should clean, and then flopped down on the couch.
The clock ticked.
There was a book on the floor, with bright colors and large text. There was the smell of perfume in the air, light and sweet.
There was a message on the machine. Andy, his voice light. "Burt? Call me when you get this." Nothing else. Burt deleted it.
Kurt's door was open. Burt found himself pulled into the little room like a magnet was drawing him in. He flipped the light on, looking around the room.
All of Kurt's stuffed animals were gone. Sometime when he was out, Katherine had come back and retrieved them. The sight broke through the unreality of the situation and made it blindingly, achingly real. Kurt and Katherine were gone, and unless he stopped them, he was never getting them back.
He had to go now.
***
Burt didn't know exactly where she'd be, but he had ideas. He went to friends' houses, to other teachers' houses, to cheap motels. One by one, he crossed them off his list.
It was nine thirty when he drove by a Target, the red light from the sign casting a glow. Burt pulled the truck into the lot and parked, then hustled inside. The bright fluorescent lights hurt his eyes, but it was easy to find what he wanted, even if he wasn't completely sure about the size.
Size didn't matter, Burt told himself. It was the thought that counted.
He finally found them at a motel. Katherine's car was parked in the lot, and he knocked on three doors before Katherine answered.
"What are you doing here?" she demanded. Her hands were on her hips and her brow was furrowed, but he saw it- there was hope in her eyes. He swallowed hard around the lump in his throat. But he was ready.
"Look," he said, because he knew Katherine would not let him into that room unless he spoke first, "I don't like any of this, okay? This whole gay thing? I don't get it. I don't like it. This isn't what I wanted, and I can't deal with it."
"I already told you-" Katherine said, but Burt held up a hand.
"Let me finish. I don't like it, but here's the thing. I love you. I love Kurt. And this is my family, and I'm not losing it.
"If this is how it's gonna be, that Kurt's gonna be gay… I don't know that there's anything I can do about that. Not if it's showing up this early. So if that's the way it's happening… I guess if I want this family, it's me that's gotta change. The thing is, I don't know how. I don't know how to deal with this, how to be a dad to a kid like this. But I want to know. I want to figure this out, and I want… I want our family. I don't know what to do."
"You could ask," Katherine said, her arms crossed. "You could ask, Burt."
"You're really going to make me beg, aren’t you?" Burt asked.
"Can you think of why I shouldn't?" Katherine demanded.
Over her shoulder, he saw Kurt sitting on the bed. Kurt, who was sitting on the bed and smiling nervously at him, not understanding exactly what was happening, but obviously aware that Burt was there. Burt put a hand on Katherine's shoulder and gently pushed her to the side; she moved out of the way and let him in.
He was still clutching the Target bag in a sweating hand. He pulled out his purchase- a pair of clear plastic shoes with Cinderella on them, and knelt down in front of Kurt.
"Look," he said, slipping the slipper onto Kurt's foot, "I know the past few days have been confusing for you, huh, buddy?" Kurt nodded, and Burt cringed. "And I'm real sorry about that. Real sorry. But we're gonna work this all out, and if your mom will help me… I'm gonna make this all work out. I'm gonna be your hero, your champion, your…" he swallowed around the word, but said it, because it was the word that he needed to say. "Your prince. Got it?"
Kurt, who was watching silently, nodded, and then when the shoes were on his feet (a little too big, but just as well), he jumped off the bed and wrapped his arms around Burt's neck in a tight, strangling hug that made Burt close his eyes with relief. He hugged Kurt back just as tightly, until behind him, he felt Katherine's hands on his back.
"That was one hell of a groveling," Katherine told him softly, wiping at her eyes. "Do you mean it?"
"I mean it," Burt promised into Kurt's ear.
"Kurt, sweetie?" Katherine said when Kurt let go of his father to admire his new shoes. "Get your friends together. We're going to go home tonight."
***
"The thing is, Burt, I know this is all overwhelming," Katherine said, rubbing her face in exhaustion. It was three in the morning and they sat at the table, empty beer bottles in front of them both. "I know you don't believe me, but it's overwhelming for me, too. And I'm not thrilled about it. The way this world treats homosexuals… that's not the life I'd choose for my son. I don't want him to be teased and discriminated against… and you've seen some of those news stories. What can happen to these kids."
"Yeah." Burt peeled the label off his bottle, staring at it intently. But Katherine caught his hand.
"Look," she said, and God, she looked exhausted. He wondered if she'd slept at all last night. "This isn't something that you have to be ready for all the way right now. It's going to be years before Kurt figures it out for himself, and probably a few years beyond that before he wants to talk about it. Right now, we just need to let him be on these things."
It seemed so small when she put it that way. He could do this. He stared hard at his beer bottle.
"We're going to get through this, Burt," Katherine said. "I don't expect you to become a paragon of enlightenment over night. Especially in Ohio. I know who you are. But who you are… you're a good man. And as long as I see you wanting to change on this… wanting to learn and accept who Kurt is… then I'm happy."
"I want to," Burt said, for what felt like the millionth time that night. "I can't lose the two of you." He met her eyes squarely. "You and Kurt… you are everything to me. Both of you."
"Come on," Katherine said, patting his hand in reassurance. "Let's go to bed. It will be easier tomorrow."
***
It was easier "tomorrow", and for quite a while after that. Burt had no doubt that Katherine had been serious about leaving. Fear was a good motivator, and it made it easy to turn a blind eye. And Kurt… Burt wondered exactly how much Kurt knew about the fight. The dress-up clothes stayed in the trunk, and Kurt had not asked for another Barbie.
But Kurt was Kurt, and soon it was musicals and feather boas again.
Burt could deal with the shoes and the hats and the fact that Kurt always wanted to be dressed up. He actually enjoyed The Sound of Music, because they'd all watch it together and hell, it had Nazis as the bad guys. Nothing with Nazis as the bad guys could be all girly, even if Kurt did hide his face in Burt's shoulder during the chase scenes. But there were other times it was so hard not to say anything. Like when Kurt prattled on about his friends at school- all girls-or when Kurt put on his mother's lipstick.
Burt had to walk out of the room for that one. He didn't say it, but he was still angry. Angry that this was his lot, his burden. He hadn't asked for a gay son, damn it.
But at the same time, sharp in his mind, was that night and day they'd been gone. And when he winced, when he walked out of the room, when he tried to tell his son that men didn't do that, Katherine got that look in her eyes. That angry, hard, bitter look that told him she would leave again, and if she left again, this time she might not come back. And then Katherine and Kurt would be gone, and that thought made Burt's throat close in fear.
Because Kurt might drive him crazy with his talk about dresses and musicals and tea and princesses, but every day when Burt came home from the garage, Kurt shrieked "Daddy!" and hurtled himself right at him. Every day there was that tight hug around his neck and the softness of Kurt's hair against his cheek. Every day Kurt perched at the table, eagerly telling Burt all about first and then second grade. There were crayon drawings and paintings to admire, letters that became clearer and clearer, and facts about math and animals and other countries that Kurt parroted constantly. Burt found himself being reminded constantly that his son was gifted.
Gifted. He felt a pang when he realized how long it had been since he'd thought that word. Once, he remembered, that had been the only word he'd been able to think of when he'd thought of his son. Before gay took over.
He figured that maybe he should be thinking of gifted again.