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Capeside: November 2024
“Jack,” Doug said, voice low, stood in the doorway, eyes fixed on the other man, the room dark; lit just by the blue glow of the TV. “Turn it off.”
Not getting a response, Doug sighed, moving into the room and towards his husband; Jack’s body having shifted over the hours to be pressed a little deeper into the corner of the couch – eyes fixed to the screen but gaze absent.
“Jack,” he tried again, swallowing down the lump in his throat, not able to look at the TV; having been trying to keep himself busy all night – each new block of red on the screen feeling more and more like a broken promise after weeks of assuring it would not be – having believed it so strongly. “It’s late. Come to bed.”
“No,” Jack shook his head, voice little more than a whisper. “I can’t.”
“What good is it going to do?” Doug asked, moving closer, his hand settling on Jack’s knee – his feet on the edge of the cushion and legs bent upwards.
“Is Amy in bed?” Jack asked, ignoring Doug’s question – not having a good answer to it.
“She was doing a little more work on her college applications,” Doug replied, having checked on her an hour ago; taking her a glass of milk and a cookie – a tradition since she had been little. “She promised she wouldn’t be too much longer.”
Jack nodded, eyes closing for a moment; feeling the burn – gaze returning to the screen the second they opened again but mind no longer there. His mind slipped to his college days; formative and at times chaotic, but having always looked back on them with a smile; having always looked forward to Amy having her own experiences and encouraged her in all her dreams – finding it so much harder to encourage, without fear, the more the world she would be stepping into unfolded before them.
“How many of her selections are in state?” he asked; not expecting an answer – knowing exactly how many after numerous weekends of driving her out of state to tour potential choices.
“You know if it was up to me she’d never go anywhere,” Doug replied, it having been a running joke. “It’s you that’s always instilled in her the notion that she can do anything – go anywhere.”
“It’s been your job to stop me,” Jack groaned, rubbing his hands over his face.
“Do you think I would have stood a chance?” Doug asked. “Watching you build up our daughter to believe she has the power and strength to take on the world for the last sixteen years has been one of the greatest things I’ve ever had the privilege of witnessing.”
“But what if I was wrong?” Jack asked, looking to Doug. “What if the world has changed too much? It’s not a fair fight anymore.”
“Jack – It never was.”
“I want her to have the world, Doug – that’s not changed,” Jack said, exhaling deeply. “But right now I just want her to be safe.”
“And right now, she is.”
“We have one more year and then she’ll be gone,” Jack pointed out – gesturing towards the TV. “Into that world,” he said, sure that the screen had turned more red in the brief time he had looked away. “Does that not terrify you?”
Doug sighed, wanting nothing more than to reassure the other man but refusing to lie, unable to deny that his stomach had been in knots for weeks; it only having got worse as the day went on – fearful for so much more than just their daughter.
“We have to have faith…”
“Look at it, Doug,” Jack said, voice cracking a little – stopping Doug’s response. “Faith in what?”
“We’ve been here before,” Doug reminded.
“Not like this. Not this bad,” Jack disputed. “Last time we didn’t know better. This time people know exactly what they’re voting for – and who they are voting against. How is it possible that we’re watching it unfold again?”
“So don’t watch it. Turn off the TV,” Doug encouraged. “Come to bed. Tomorrow is going to be hard enough as it is – going into it tired is only going to make it harder.”
“I’m already tired,” Jack said, knowing Doug knew it – knowing he was too. “Tired doesn’t even cut it.”
“I know,” Doug empathize, moving closer to Jack as he accepted he was not going anywhere.
“How do we keep doing this?” Jack asked. “How do I walk into class tomorrow, and you put on your uniform, and go on serving the community after this?”
“Because thankfully we live in a blue state.”
“A blue state that has over a third of people voting the other way. For a man, who, if I had his rap sheet, I wouldn’t be allowed to do my job – and neither would you,” Jack reminded. “One in three people that we cross paths with every day. People that see us as little more than political perversions.”
“We can’t think like that – we have to see the good in people,” Doug encouraged. “And I know you believe that because they are your words.”
“Why should I have to keep seeing the good in people who don’t see it in me?”
“Jack,” Doug sighed, knowing that he did not mean it; having always seem the best in everyone – it being his frustrations talking. “It’s not going to help to see this as personal.”
“It is personal,” Jack countered. “When I have worked my ass off for years and still, every year, have parents that don’t want their kids in my class; when their voices are getting louder – it’s personal. First they feared that I would make their kids gay, that I’m indoctrinating them; that I have some kind of agenda – that our life is some kind of agenda. Tell me how that’s not personal?” he asked. “Meanwhile I’m expected to risk my life for those kids if the worst happened; to turn myself into a shield to protect the same kids they think I wish harm on,” he said, agitated. “And I would. For each and every one of them. Regardless of their comments. Regardless of their parents. And I have to go about my day, every day, knowing you would too. That your job expects it of you. And for what?” he asked, angrily. “For people that would vote against protecting the most basic of rights – for what? More rights of their own – regardless of the existence of any actual threat to their way of living? Lower tax? Cheaper gas? Is that the trade-off for our existence?” he asked, his pain and anger seeping out – feeling broken. “Any other time; any other election, sure, I would say agree to disagree; this is democracy; people should vote for or against policies that impact them most – but what policies, Doug?” he asked. “This isn’t a vote for policies, it’s against people. Against couples that look a little different, or people trying their best to live the life they feel is right, against women – against our daughter.”
“Jack,” Doug spoke; feeling Jack’s anger as well as his heartache. “I understand – it’s exhausting, and it’s hurtful…”
“I have spent my whole life being told the next generation will be better; the next generation will care more – that these old, out of date views will die out,” Jack continued. “But I hear what is said in school. Not from the parents – from the kids. From the same boys that sit next to Amy in class, that go to the same school dances – that will be going off to college. I hear them, the things they say, the bravado that’s growing – the taunting that started as whispers and is now getting louder. More confident. Because to them, it’s a game. To them, it’s fun. Because they are too young and dumb to realise the damage they can cause,” he maintained. “And that will be their excuse. And then it will be their defense – but their ignorance won’t undo the damage they cause,” he said, wiping the tear tracks from his cheeks. “These boys who are becoming men; who should be better than those that came before but are being taught by the wrong people,” he continued – shaking his head. “Not all of them, but enough of them – it ‘only’ being one in three doesn’t keep anyone safe.”
Doug exhaled deeply, knowing there was nothing he could say; nothing to make it better, there being nothing he could find to dispute his words; feeling them all himself – instead choosing to just hold him.
“It’s worse because I let myself hope,” Jack spoke, voice low – holding onto Doug tightly. “I let myself believe in something. I let myself believe that it would be okay.”
“It will be,” Doug replied – scared he was making more promises he would only break. “It will be okay.”
“And what if they decide one day that everything we’ve built here; our whole lives – that it doesn’t count anymore?”
“They can’t,” Doug said, growing more firm. “They can say our marriage is not legal, they can say whatever they want – but they can’t make it no longer count,” he persisted. “They can’t take away our memories, and our family – our love. They may be able to do a lot of things, but they can’t do that. No law can change who we are – individually or together. They can’t take away the memory of the day we got married, or everything we overcame personally to get there – they can’t undo nearly two decades of me loving you, and the family we are.”
“I’m scared,” Jack confessed – it causing more tears. “I don’t want to be – but I am.”
“It’s okay – you can be scared,” Doug comforted. “Tonight we can be scared. Because tonight is scary,” he admitted – pressing a kiss into Jack’s hair as he held him. “And it’s okay to still feel that way tomorrow, and however long that may last – but we will keep going. Just like we have for years,” he continued. “Not just for us, but for all of the people that haven’t had a chance yet to have what we have. For the kids in your class that look to you as more than just their teacher – but as an example of what they can be. And we’ll continue to stand tall in a community that isn’t always supportive, but is ours – letting them know that we’re not going anywhere,” he said. “We’re not going to pull back, and lower our voices – if we have to, we’ll raise them. And we’ll keep raising them until everyone who is also feeling scared tonight can be heard too,” he said – growing more adamant. “We’ll do it for our daughter – so she can learn how to do it for herself.”
“I hate that she has to.”
“So do I,” Doug nodded, kissing Jack again. “But you have to trust that we’ve raised her right; that she’s ready for the reality of this world – even if it’s not always good.”
“How can she possibly be ready?” Jack asked. “I’m not ready.”
“Well,” Doug shrugged, kissing Jack again – tone growing lighter. “She had better parents than you did.”
Relieved when he heard Jack laugh, he pulled the other man closer; altering their position so that he could see Jack’s face a little clearer – wiping away the tracks of his sadness.
“There are still good people in this world,” he said, watching as Jack nodded. “Sure, there are some people with some very concerning views right now, but I think there always has been – they’re just making themselves easier to identify now.”
“You think I’m being dramatic?” Jack asked.
“No,” Doug said, earnestly. “I think you’re angry, and hurt, and tired of not just being seen as a person – and you’re scared of what the future could bring,” he sighed – feeling it all too. “But this isn’t the fault of you having the nerve to hope. It’s one of the things I love most about you – that you not only hope for better, but help build it. Don’t stop hoping. Even if it hurts so much worse when you get let down.”
Jack nodded, sighing deeply – knowing he just needed to feel it all before he could find some positivity again.
“I love you,” he said, voice low – leaning in and kissing Doug.
“I love you too,” Doug smiled. “Regardless of what anyone else may have to say about it.”
“I’m sorry,” Jack said, looking back at the screen. “I’ve kept you up late.”
“I don’t mind,” Doug replied – looking back at the screen once more with disbelief. “Maybe we can turn this off now? Staying up and watching more isn’t going to change anything.”
“Okay,” Jack agreed; knowing it was true – turning the TV off.
“Come on,” Doug said, standing – pulling Jack up. “I’ve locked up and everything’s switched off,” he informed, leading Jack to the door. “Let’s head up.”
Not protesting, Jack led the way up the stairs, making their way into their room – the sheets already pulled back on the bed as though Doug had been hopeful of them heading up long before. Grateful for having brushed his teeth when he had changed earlier in the night, Jack made his way directly to the bed, climbing in – his lamp radiating a soft glow around them as Doug climbed in bed next to him.
Before either man could settle, a knock came from the door – a second later it opening to reveal an almost carbon copy of Jen from years before.
“Ames,” Jack said, surprised to see her. “Why are you still up? Is everything okay?”
“Kind of,” she nodded. “Can I come in?”
“Of course,” Doug welcomed. “What’s up?”
Making her way closer, the teen climbed onto the end of the bed by Jack’s feet, looking younger in her pyjamas than she did during the day; hair tied back in a messy bun – eyes so incredibly blue.
“I was talking to Bella and Chloe,” she started. “We want to do something to raise some money and we were thinking, maybe, that we would do a bake sale on the weekend,” she continued cautiously.
“What are you raising money for?” Doug asked, interested.
“We were thinking – this time – we would raise for Planned Parenthood,” she said, shrugging. “There’s tips and stuff on their website to help, and I text Uncle Pacey, he’s agreed to let us set up at the Icehouse, and he said he’ll match whatever we raise.”
“He did, huh?” Jack smiled, glancing sideways at his husband.
“Yeah,” Amy nodded, growing in confidence. “The only thing is… We kind of need somewhere to bake everything?” she added – smiling hopefully at her dads.
“And you want to use here?” Jack asked, watching her nod – glancing to Doug once more. “I don’t see why not.”
“Really?” she beamed.
“As long as I get to sample each batch – for quality control.”
“Thank you,” she said, excitedly; lunging forward and wrapping Jack in a hug – remaining in place as she looked to Doug.
“We also kind of need someone to start us off with ingredients?” she pushed – causing Jack to laugh.
“Right,” Doug laughed too. “I assume that’s my part to play?”
“Please,” she begged.
“Put together a list,” he groaned, exhibiting faux reluctance. “I’ll go by the store after work tomorrow.”
“You’re the best,” she grinned, moving from one father to the other – kissing Doug on the cheek. “I love you!”
“We love you too,” Doug smiled – knowing that there was no chance of him ever saying no to her.
“Now go to bed,” Jack insisted; giving her a playful shove – laughing as she did a little roll before springing from the bed. “It’s late. The last thing I need is you and your dad being cranky tomorrow.”
“Thank you – I love you,” she said again; moving to the door. “Good night.”
“Night, Ames,” Doug replied, the door almost closing behind her before opening again – their daughter’s face appearing again.
“Everything’s going to be okay,” she said – looking for reassurance. “Right?”
“Right,” Jack nodded, without missing a beat – his hand finding Doug’s beneath the sheets.
Pausing a second, Amy eventually nodded; accepting the answer – closing the door behind her as she made her way back to her room.
“You sounded pretty convincing,” Doug said, giving Jack’s hand a squeeze – not needing to add the unspoken ‘considering everything you said downstairs’.
“That’s because I mean it,” Jack replied, looking to Doug with a hopeful smile. “I mean – with teens like that, everything will be fine,” he nodded – feeling his faith return. “I stand by everything I’ve said for years – that girl has the power to change the world.”