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“Mikey, I swear to God, if you break another one of my instruments, I’m kicking you out.”
Mikey continues to pluck on the old upright bass, knees bent and eyes closed like he’s some Jazz great. “I think I wanna learn this one instead,” he says.
Frank sighs and gets up. “I had to go into the city to get those violin strings. Please just stick with regular bass guitar.”
Mikey let’s go of the upright bass and Frank leaps forward to grab it by its neck. “Someone’s ornery today.”
The thing is, Frank is. Summer has always been his least favorite season, what with how busy the shop gets and how little Frank feels he sees Asher, who attends a partial sleepaway camp every year, which means he only comes home for the weekend. And not only that, but Ray is also always busy as hell in the summer. What is it about the scorching heat and the mosquitos that make people want to order three dozen cupcakes and six-tiered wedding cakes and desperately need to learn a new instrument or rent out a studio?
Speaking of: “You and Ray better not have the wedding in the summer. I literally won’t attend.”
Mikey twists his engagement ring around his skinny finger while he stares curiously in the direction of the in-store studio, where some pop star is recording his second album or whatever; his bodyguard is waiting outside in a Humvee-sized Land Rover that looks like an eyesore in the parking lot. “We’re thinking somewhere around my birthday.”
September. Frank can work with that.
The bell above the door jingles and in walks the loves of Frank’s entire life. Gerard comes in in ridiculously-short shorts and a shirt he cut the sleeves off of himself and a pair of vintage sunglasses. His hair is also pulled back, and he’s sporting some stubble, and Frank sees him literally every day and yet for some reason his mouth goes dry at this particular sight of him.
Asher runs over in his camp shirt and baseball cap and practically leaps into Frank’s arms. When Frank catches him and props him on his hip, he says, “Hey, best friend! How was boarding school this week?”
Asher laughs at his running joke, but instead of asking what boarding school is, he starts excitedly rattling off everything he did during the week. While he’s telling Frank about this really cool frog him and his friend found by the lake, Gerard comes over and kisses Frank on the cheek, then goes and wraps his brother up in a hug like they were the ones who haven’t seen each other in a week. Frank watches them fondly, and as his kid kicks his feet into Frank’s spleen, he sighs. The only part of summer he likes is the weekend. The only thing that would make it better right now is if —
“Uncle Ray!”
Asher shoves himself from Frank’s arms and runs over to Ray at the door, who still has his hair piled up under a hairnet and an obscene amount of buttercream and fudge and God knows what else crusted all over his work shirt. He also looks dead on his feet.
“Hey, little man. Long time no see.”
After patting Asher on the back with his airbrush-stained fingers, he trudges over to Mikey, who says, “Wha’ happen’?”
Ray drops his face into Mikey’s shoulder with a frankly monstrous groan and says, “Remember the wedding cake I finished the other day? The one with the roses?” Three voices say cautiously, “Uh-huh.” Ray groans again. “Well, the bride and her momzilla came in to pick it up, right, and momzilla was furious the roses were pink instead of red, but she refused to listen while I tried to explain that once colored buttercream oxidizes it turns darker and that the roses’ll be the perfect shade in, like, an hour, so you know what she did?”
“Oh no,” Asher says gravely, and Gerard has to stifle a laugh.
Ray whips out his phone to show them a picture of a once-pretty wedding cake smashed all over the ground. “She shoved it off the counter.”
Those same three voices hiss and groan, and Mikey pulls Ray’s hairnet off for him and stuffs it in his pocket. “Please open up your own bakery,” is all he says, and then, “Did you bring me any of those cookies I like?”
Ray flaps his arm in the direction of the door. “They’re out in the car,” he says sadly, then covers Asher’s ears. “And so is a bottle of wine from my manager.”
Frank goes over and slings an arm around his neck. “I am so glad we both take the weekends off during summer.”
The door opens again, and the pop star’s menacing, seven-foot bodyguard sticks his head in. “My client just texted me saying y’all are being too loud.” Then he disappears again.
Frank laughs. “My point stands.”
Asher raises his hand. “Are we still gonna go watch the fireworks tomorrow?”
Oh, shit, how could Frank forget about the Fourth of July? And how every year they watch the fireworks over at the pool? God, he really hates summer. He doesn’t hate Fourth of July, but he does hate summer.
“Yeah, baby, we’re still gonna see the fireworks.”
Asher cheers and runs to the door with his backpack. “Come on, Dad, you said we can watch Captain America!”
Gerard rolls his eyes at their kid and kisses Frank on the cheek. “After I give him a bath. He smells like citronella. What do you want for dinner?”
“Maybe just cook up that chopped meat before it goes bad. We’ll figure something out with it.” While Asher is staring at the pop star’s bodyguard through the door, Frank stomps over and pulls the legs of his shorts up with both hands. “Why are the backs of your thighs all red?”
Asher shrugs and bats Frank’s hands away. “Sunburn.”
“This isn’t sunburn, they’re welts. What the heck did you get into over there?”
“Oh, Ash, don’t tell me you got poison ivy all over my car,” Gerard says.
Asher pulls his shorts up, trying to look at the patches of swollen skin on his skinny legs. “I think there were ants in our cabin last night. Red ones.”
Frank lets out a long-suffering sigh and Gerard kisses him again, this time on the mouth. “Don’t worry, I’ll slather him in calamine lotion after his bath.”
“Please do. He’s giving me gray hairs.”
Just before Gerard leaves with Asher, who’s now scratching at the ant bites, he calls behind him, “Ray, save some of that w-i-n-e!”
“I know how to spell wine!” Asher says, and they all laugh.
The next night, hauling a cooler full of drinks and snacks, the party of five piles into Ray’s car since it’s the biggest and heads to the community pool. The pool itself closed a few hours ago, but the green expanse of lawn surrounding it is teeming with what Frank is sure is the entire town. There’s a stereo system set up in the gazebo blasting songs that were popular a decade ago and people are handing out lighters and sparklers and cups of lemonade. Amidst all the picnic blankets and beach towels and red-white-and-blue, they find an empty spot to settle in back by the fence.
When the sun is just starting to go down and everyone’s munching on some fruit that Ray cut up before they left, Asher flips onto his stomach and tries to scratch at his thighs that are crusted in calamine lotion like a Pepto Bismal cast, and Frank reaches over to smack him on the butt.
“Ash, oven mitts,” he warns, and Asher grumbles into his folded arms.
Since there were only two lawn chairs between them and no one felt like buying new ones, Ray and Mikey are currently taking their shifts in them while Frank and Gerard are sitting cross-legged on the blanket they brought, which happens to be an old Winnie-the-Pooh comforter of Asher’s. Frank leans into Gerard’s side and Gerard, Asher’s feet in his lap, puts his arm around his shoulders. The mosquitos are bastards tonight, but it’s surprisingly cool out, and they all seem to let out a collective sight of relief when a nice breeze rolls by. This is definitely what they needed.
A boy Asher’s age runs up out of nowhere, one Frank is pretty sure was in his class. “Hi, Ash!” he says, and Asher scrambles to his feet, kicking Gerard in the crotch in the process.
“Hey, Gabe! How’s your camp? Did you make any friendship bracelets yet?”
Gabe pulls out a beaded lizard keychain from his pocket. “We made these.”
“Oh, cool!”
“Hi, Mr. Way!”
“Hi, honey. How are you?”
“Super good,” Gabe says, putting the lizard away. “Mom brought Annie’s pasta, can Ash come and have some?”
Before Frank or Gerard can say that it’s antipasto, Gabe’s PTA mom comes up behind him with that Barbie Doll smile of hers. Frank shifts on the blanket while she stares down at the four of them, two pretty obvious couples.
“Evening, gentlemen,” she says, and Frank wants to throw up all over her Skechers.
Gerard is the only one that responds. “Hi, Kate. Are you here with Charles and the baby?”
“Of course. Are you and, uh, your brother returning to Forrest next year?”
“Why wouldn’t we be?” Mikey asks with a challenging tinge to his voice, and Frank sees Ray put his hand on his knee from the corner of his eye.
Kate just continues smiling. “Just wondering.”
“Mom, did you know that Mr. Way is like Asher’s step-dad now? And Mr. Way the gym teacher is getting married to that guy right there?” Gabe says, mouth full of cantaloupe.
Kate looks like she sucked on a sour lemon when she says, “So I’ve heard.”
“Sorry, what?” Gerard says as a particular bass-heavy song starts blasting through the speakers.
“I said you should have your hearing checked,” she practically shouts. “Come on, Gabe.”
Gabe skips off with his mother, followed closely behind by Asher, who Frank lets go with a grin. “I have gotten my hearing checked, actually,” Gerard says, and the three of them laugh. “Plenty of times.”
Mikey kicks at his brother’s back. “And it’s only getting worse. You’re deafer than Gramps was.”
Gerard laughs and leans into Frank, telling him like it’s some high school gossip, “You know, I think they’re gonna fit me with a hearing aid soon.”
“That’s cool, you’ll be just like Hawkeye.”
Gerard faux gasps. “You know your superheroes!”
Frank grabs the pack of hot pink earplugs he brought and drops them into Gerard’s lap. “Not that there’s anything wrong with being hard of hearing, but please try to preserve what you have left. I’m not fluent in ASL yet.”
Gerard pops the earplugs in just as someone with a microphone announces the fireworks are gonna he starting soon. He says something with his hands, but all Frank catches is — knows more sign language than you.
Frank shakes his head and says, “What?”
Silently, his cheeks pink, Gerard spells out slowly A-S-H-E-R.
The first firework goes off above them in a shower of gold sparkles, and Frank and Gerard lean back against Ray and Mikey’s legs. Another screaming firework erupts, lighting up the darkening sky with brilliant blue, and Frank elbows Gerard. He waves his hand in front of his face, the sign for beautiful, and Gerard points back at him. Frank elbows him again.
Halfway through the fireworks display, when their snacks are gone and Asher has returned to light all their sparklers, Ray’s phone rings, and he almost bucks Frank off him to get at it. Mikey watches him answer like he’s receiving a call from the president, and Gerard slowly and curiously takes his earplugs out.
“Hello?” Ray grabs Mikey’s hand while he listens to whoever’s on the other end, and then his mouth splits wide in a smile and his eyes go immediately shiny. “Thank you so much. Holy — yeah, yeah. Yeah. Oh my God. Okay, thank you, ma’am. Thank you so much.”
He hangs up, and Frank, recognizing the look on his best friend’s face, says, “Toro … what did you do?”
“We’re having a baby!” he yells like he can’t possibly hold it in any longer than he has to, and Mikey says, “HOLY SHIT,” and almost tips his lawn chair over in his plight to hug his fiancé. A nearby family starts cheering for them.
“You what?!” Gerard says, turning around fully on the blanket.
Asher hops up, two spitting sparkles in his fists. He thrusts them towards the heavens. “Yes!”
“Asher, go away,” Frank says absently, and Asher bounds away screaming like a banshee. He turns to Ray and Mikey. “What the fuck do you mean you’re having a baby? Pardon my Italian.”
Ray takes a long drink from his bottle of iced tea, then reaches over and downs Mikey’s cup of lemonade. He crushes the cup against his forehead and tosses it over the fence behind them. “I mean there’s a little girl coming from Puerto Rico that we’re picking up next week.”
“Her name is Adeline,” Mikey says, eyes wide and crinkled at the corners in a way Frank doesn’t think he’s seen before. “She’s a year old and she’s the cutest thing ever.”
Frank and Gerard look at each other, and they both say in unison, “What?”
“What about — ” Frank rubs a hand down his face. He feels like he’s about to have a heart attack at thirty years old. “I thought you were gonna wait until after the wedding!”
“Yeah,” Gerard agrees, looking almost horrified. He’s gonna be an uncle. Frank’s gonna be an uncle! “Who’s gonna be the legal parent until you get married? Are you going to adopt her again? How does any of this work? Can two single people have joint custody?”
Ray and Mikey share a look, then Mikey says, “We already went to the courthouse. Like, a month ago.”
Gerard gets up on his knees and starts smacking his brother. “You stupid — why didn’t you invite me! I’ve known you longer than Ray!”
Mikey smacks his brother back. “It was just for us, you jerk! The wedding will be for you!”
“Please don’t tell anyone we’re already married,” Ray says to Frank, as if throwing a wedding while you’re already married is somehow more scandalous than showing up to said wedding with a one-year-old on your hip.
“Dude, of course not, but — do you have stuff? Like a crib and clothes and stuff? What about bottles? Or diapers?”
Ray and Mikey share another look, and Gerard cries, “You told us we couldn’t come over because you were painting!”
“We were painting,” Mikey shrugs. “The nursery, at least.”
Gerard collapses against Frank with an indignant groan that almost sounds like a whine, and Frank wraps an arm around him. The fireworks continue on above them, but Frank can’t even bring himself to look at them, or to tell Gerard to put his earplugs back in before he blows his eardrums out. Frank is staring at Ray and Mikey in wonder, like he’s seeing them for the first time.
“Oh, one more thing,” Ray says, sounding suddenly serious.
“Kick us while we’re down, why don’t you,” Frank laughs weakly. “What, you’re moving to Tennessee?”
“Los Angeles, actually,” Mikey deadpans, and Ray hits him on the knee.
“No, uh, Asher’s biological mother is having another baby. Same dad, too. I think she’s due in December.”
In the most cliché movie moment ever, Frank swears everything stops short right there. He’s only vaguely aware of Gerard trying to hold his hand. “Ash has a sibling?”
“I mean, if you want her.”
“It’s a girl?”
“Wait,” Gerard says. “How do you know this? I thought information like that was private?”
“We got the same agent as Frank since she was always so nice,” Ray explains. “And she said that if Asher’s parents were ever going to give anymore kids up then — ”
“She’ll let me know,” Frank finishes for him, remembering. “I forgot I asked that of her.”
“So?” Mikey says with a shit-eating grin, bopping Frank and Gerard on the shoulder. “Let’s all be girl dads together.”
Frank looks to Gerard, who looks just as spacey as Frank feels. Are they dreaming right now? “Well? What do you say?”
Gerard laughs breathlessly. “I say God bless America.” That same family cheers again at their apparent patriotism and Gerard kisses Frank like it’s their first kiss all over again.
“We have to get married.” Frank says against his mouth.
“Now are you proposing?”
“No, I don’t wanna show up George Washington and your brother.” Mikey laughs. “We can get married at their wedding. Two for the price of one.”
“You know, that’s actually not a bad idea,” Gerard says.
“Get married at my wedding and I’ll kill you,” Mikey says. “And don’t even think about getting getting engaged then, either. Wait your damn turn.”
“The baby’s due in December,” Frank says, starting to feel giddy and slightly anxious over the whole thing. Another baby. And not only that, but a daughter. A little sister for Asher. “And you’re probably having the wedding in September, right? The fake, just-for-show wedding too, by the way. That gives me and Gerard less than three months to get engaged, plan a wedding, have the wedding, adopt a child, get a million things for said child, and probably move since Gerard’s place only has two bedrooms.”
Mikey just stares at him. “Sucks to suck.”
“You don’t have to do everything in that order, you know,” Ray says gently. “I mean, we’re all already gay. None of us are exactly sticklers for convention.”
“Okay, that’s true,” Frank says slowly. “But the wedding needs to come before the baby. For my mother’s sake.”
Gerard squeezes Frank’s hand. “We can adopt her now,” he suggests. “And once it goes through, which hopefully doesn’t take long since you’ve done this before and everyone already knows you there, we can get everything we need for her and put it in storage until we find a bigger house. I think there’s one for sale on our street, actually. Four beds, one-and-a-half-bath.”
Frank’s head is back to spinning, but he kisses Gerard like it’s their last day on Earth. “You’re so fucking smart. That’s why I love you.”
“I think we could pull it off,” Gerard says, sounding giddy, now, too. “We can easily have everything in order by the time the baby is born. Plus we can use all of Mike and Ray’s vendors from their wedding, and their guest list since we know all the same people. We’ll just piggyback off of them.”
Miraculously, Mikey has nothing to say to that. He almost looks like he agrees.
“All we have to worry about, really, is when to get engaged,” Frank says, his heart starting to beat wildly again.
“Well, we can always pick up the rings. What about getting married? Do you want to go to the courthouse too so all the legal stuff is out of the way?”
“As long as my mom gets to see me in a long white dress, I don’t care what we do.”
“I think there’s an open house on Wednesday, so how do you feel about getting married on Tuesday after work?”
“That sounds good, and we’ll look at rings on Monday, and maybe get a storage unit. Ray, can you text me the adoption agency’s number so I don’t have to dig through Ash’s paperwork?”
Ray, mouth hanging open slightly, says, “Uh, sure.”
“Great, I’ll give her a call in the morning. I hope they’re open on Sundays, especially after a holiday.” Gerard has his phone out and is typing on it. “What are you doing?”
“Making a list. They’re handy.”
The fireworks finale explodes overhead alongside “America the Beautiful”, and Frank digs to the bottom of their cooler for the emergency beers he packed earlier. He wishes he brought cigarettes, too, but this will have to do.
“Well then,” Ray says once they’ve all had a few sips. Someone’s gonna have to be the sacrificial lamb tonight and drive them all soberly home, and that sure as hell isn’t gonna be Frank. He’s a bride-to-be and a mom-to-be. Him and Gerard. Oh, Lord. “I think this has been the most eventful Fourth of July since 1776.”
Eventful is an understatement, and Frank has a sneaking suspicion he’s not going to hate the summer so much after this one.