the Sprawl

Jack hadn’t thought about it if he was being honest. Matt had always been just, well.

Baby.

He was Baby and he would always be Baby and no matter how tall he was or wanted to be and no matter how much stubble he had on his chin and no matter how many times he patiently explained to Jack across his office desk what he was doing with all those papers and why, he would always be six weeks old and painfully delicate, excruciatingly light, warm and slightly damp, curling his fingers around Jack’s thumb.

That was Matty.

That would always be Matty.

Jack couldn’t look at him now without feeling that somehow he was there, only six weeks old still, somewhere in that heart of his.

Matt had known this for a long, long time.

He accused Jack of babying him daily. He had since he was about three.

It was fine. It was normal for them. It had maybe led to more than a few arguments and, after the accident, a whole lot of tears over what it meant to be and not to be babied, but they’d gotten through all that.

But throughout all that, it had never really occurred to Jack that Matt might develop crushes.

He didn’t know why. Maybe because up to ten, Matt had shown next to no interest having any. He wanted attention, Jack had noticed, but he wasn’t particular about who or where it came from. He hadn’t wanted the attention of a particular girl or boy in his class or at church.

He was an equal opportunist, this kid. And as long as Jack cuddled him thoroughly at home, Matt had been pretty happy to focus in and do things specifically to please and impress him.

Thinking about it now, that might have been the start of the separation anxiety that Grace and Rudy and pretty much everyone was convinced that Matt had when he was small.

That anxiety had bloomed out into something bigger and a little…sickening as Matt had gotten older.

There were these eerie periods of time—hours, days, nearly weeks—where it was like he didn’t stop smiling.

Jack didn’t know what to do with that. That wasn’t his kid. His kid was supposed to be like his mama: Emotions? Who were they? How were they applied? All of them? All of them at once, right here, right now? No, maybe one? Which one—God, which one was the right one??

He ought to have been shuffling through them, trying to figure out how to best match the words being spoken to him.

Grace was a pro at that. She’d told Jack before that she didn’t have to understand exactly what people were going through to put on the right expression and say the right things.

Jack could not understand this.

It felt kinda fucked up to him, if he was honest. That was the thing, though: his kid was fucked up. Their whole family was fucked up.

Matt’s version of fucked up wasn’t matching up with any of the kinds that Jack knew, however, and that made it supremely hard to tell what he was feeling and what he would say next sometimes.

It made it even hard to understand what he was saying when he wasn’t talking.

Foggy was the best match for Matt that Jack could have ever hoped for. He was brilliant, he was funny, he was put-upon and had a high tolerance for bullshit.

Matt could put his back into trying to make him laugh and Foggy would recognize immediately what he was trying to do and would stone-face him for hours without so much as a hairline fracture.  

Matt’s brain interpreted that as a challenge and sometimes, Jack thought, he really, really liked when Foggy didn’t rise to his bait.

It made him bury his face into his hands and giggle hysterically.

Matt would never tell him how he came around to fall for Foggy, Jack was pretty sure of it.

Matt got visibly uncomfortable when Jack used the word ‘gay’ or that long-ass acronym or any of that. He was fine applying those words to other people—clients, friends, allies—but not himself.

Foggy was not the same.

Foggy had a yellow, pink, and blue symbol on a few coasters on his table, which he explained to Jack was a flag for ‘pansexual’ people.

He explained that ‘pan’ meant ‘all.’

Foggy said that he was attracted to people of all genders and identities.

They had to take a step back because apparently there was shedload of things Jack needed to know to understand why there was an ‘all’ tacked onto those other words to begin with, but he thought he kind of got it now.

He asked Foggy if Matt was a pansexual guy, too.

Foggy said that Matt didn’t ascribe to labels to the same extent that he did and that was the end of the discussion.

Jack didn’t understand.

There were a lot of words flying around and he was starting to get used to seeing some of them—even starting to understand what some of them meant—but Matty loved words.

They were his favorite thing in the world.

So why didn’t he want to pick one like Foggy had?

He tried to ask, but the words died in his mouth any time Matt perked up at him with an open face that wasn’t actually open.

Just pretending.

“Nevermind,” Jack always told him. “It’s nothing.”

It wasn’t though.

They were on a strict timeline here.

Jack got a little more tired every day. His body was breaking down. Not in a painful way, necessarily. Just in a ‘dude, you’re not of this place anymore’ kind of way.

Vanessa and Maria and Ben felt the same.

Ben said that his kid had started hugging him extra hard when he noticed him taking a break from doing anything.

Peter was only sixteen.

Jack could see that it was breaking Ben’s heart to be slowing dying once for a second time in front of him.

It was fucked up. The whole thing was fucked up.

Jack and Matt didn’t have time to be not saying things.

Learning more about him everyday was a gift. Thinking about being able to hold and hug and tease him sometimes brought tears to Jack’s eyes when he wasn’t expecting them.

They didn’t have time not to talk.

Really.

They didn’t.

He asked Matt about it outright on a Sunday before church and Matt’s walls came crashing down so hard that Jack felt their impact.

“Can we just go to church?” Matt asked him.

He wasn’t smiling.

Yeah, they could.

Jack asked again after church.

Matt said he didn’t want to talk about it and told Jack to lay off, it wasn’t his business.

He went ahead on home to change. Jack hung back and watched the back of his shoulders.

Grace said that Matt had never told her anything about these kinds of things.

“He’s very guarded,” she said simply. “Promiscuous, I will say. He’ll flirt with anything, alive or dead, that kid. But he’s never tried to bring anyone back here. It took him years before he told anyone here about Foggy and they were just roommates for the first, I think? Five? Years of their relationship.”

Oh, Matty.

Oh, kiddo.

“You think he told any of the guys at the gym?” he asked.

Grace shook her head.

“Jackie, I don’t know if he’s thought about it himself,” she said. “You know him. You’ve seen him. He works outward. Working inwards is difficult because—well.”

Because of everything.

Because Matt hadn’t escaped the poverty cycle and he was, at heart, not the six-week-old baby that Jack felt so strongly he was.

He was ten—maybe eleven. Blind and alone in the world and being groomed and beaten by a strange man who didn’t care about him but had made him promises that he couldn’t keep.

Matty would always be eleven in the face of his trauma. In the face of foster home after foster home which had kept him apart from the church and the gym. In the face of strangers who smiled at him and asked him if they could do something for him.

Matt took those words as a threat and he smiled back because among humans, baring your teeth in a grimace was not socially acceptable.

Jack kept thinking that he was somehow exempt from that reaction.

“Should I push it?” he asked Grace.

She sighed and shrugged.

“I don’t know how he identifies,” she admitted. “I’ve assumed that he’s like Foggy or Karen. Pansexual or bisexual or something like that. He’s had girlfriends and boyfriends; I don’t think he’s that picky.”

Got it.

“So I should push,” he translated.

Grace have him a look.

It meant that he was an idiot, but he didn’t know why he was getting it now.

“Leave it,” she said.

“I don’t have time,” Jack told her. “I could go anytime now, girl. I want him to know that it doesn’t matter—that I wouldn’t—that I—”

“Jack, you and I don’t have a right to ask Matty to go through that,” Grace interrupted. “Don’t get me wrong. You are absolutely his father and parent. But you’ve been gone. And I’ve been silent. And this is the first time he’s had anything like this—like all of us, here, standing together. Ever. We can’t expect him to drop everything for us.”

Jack didn’t understand.

He’d seen the videos online.

This was a thing.

Coming out was a thing. People did it with their families.

It was a thing.

If they didn’t do the thing then how would Matt know he was okay?

Grace made a face of pursed lips and arching eyebrows that was yet another iteration of ‘you are so fucking stupid, I could get bricks through the sieve that is your brain.’

“Jack,” she said.

“What am I missing here?” he asked, maybe a touch desperately.

“Matt knows he’s okay,” she said flatly.

Well, obviously. But did he like, all the way?

Why was she smiling now? What the fuck was that about?

“I think he knows all the way,” she said. “Kind of by the way you refer to Foggy as your son-in-law.”

Jack blinked.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t count,” he said.

Grace put a palm to her forehead.

“No, babe, listen: it doesn’t count,” Jack told her. “That could be like, a joke—”

“You’ve never been funny in your life, Jonathan,” Grace moaned into her hands, massaging her temples while she did it.

WOW.

That was patently untrue.

Jack was funny. Charming, even. All the time. At that moment, in fact.

“You’re so unfunny it hurts me,” Grace sighed to God. “You call Foggy your son-in-law and you keep asking him about his wedding preferences, Jack.”

It just seemed? Like the appropriate question?

“They’re not even engaged.”

WHAT DID THAT EVEN MEAN?

Jack didn’t know how things worked anymore; it had been 20 fucking years. People carried phones in their pockets like cigarettes these days. Bills weren’t even paid by check anymore.

How the hell was he supposed to know if engaged even meant a ring or if people were just engaged by giving each other a turkey on Christmas or something?

Grace said that she needed to talk to the Lord and he clearly needed to talk to Matt, so she didn’t care what he did anymore.

She begrudgingly came back when he called after her to let him kiss her cheek at least.

That was something.

He was kind of ashamed to say that he cornered his kid.

He didn’t mean to do it like that. All the videos had the kid sitting everyone down on the couch. But Matty was refusing to sit. He was too hot for that. He wanted to open the windows and futz around with the fan.

He didn’t pick up on all the cues Jack dropped for him and so…er.

Cornered.

“Dad,” Matt said calmly. “You’re freaking out again.”

Jack’s constant state of existence was ‘freaking out,’ he didn’t see why it required mentioning now.

“Dad.”

“I just want you to know,” Jack blurted out, “That whatever you are and whoever you like, it’s fine. It’s all fine. It’s great, even—a relief, you know? That you’re not a psychopath and can love people and—”

“Dad,” Matt interrupted.

“What?” He asked.

“That’s ableist,” Matt said.

Wh-what?”

“Psychopathy is a legitimate medical problem,” Matt said with a frown. “You shouldn’t just throw around that word. It’s not cool and kind of hurts people.”

Wh—

O?

Kay?

Matt seemed pleased with this response. He smiled and then cocked his head.

“What were you saying?” he asked.

Fuckin’ A.

This was all wrong.

“Dad?”

Jack needed some air.

“Wh—hey. Wait. Dad—”

He felt like shit closing the front door behind him, but it was just all wrong. Everything was wrong. Grace was right. He didn’t have any right to be asking Matt to put himself in that vulnerable place.

It was like putting him on the defense from the second he got into the ring—except he didn’t even know he was getting into the ring.

It wasn’t fair.

“DAD.”

He froze on the stairs.

Matt huffed against the door two stories up.

“Get back up here,” Matt said. “You’re so fuckin’ dramatic.”

Well, that was kind of their family’s deal, no?

Matt shook his head and sighed just like Grace.

“I’m bi,” Matt said stiffly. “Not pan. Not gay. Bi.”

Oh.

Right.

That made sense. Jack knew that word.

Two. Bi meant two.

“No,” Matt said, dropping his face immediately. “No—it’s. Ugh. Okay, here. You work with labels, right? Your brain likes words for things, right?”

Yes.

Very much so.

Jack loved words for things. Especially shit that he didn’t fucking know. He loved words for that.

Preferably small ones that certain uneducated boxers with massive brain trauma could understand.

“Okay, so the ‘bi’ in bisexual might have meant two at one point,” Matt explained. “But that’s because we didn’t have words for other identities yet. So bisexual doesn’t mean two the same way that like, bipartisan does.”

The fuck was a partisan?

“The—what?” Matt said.

Partisan?

Like?

An escort?

“Partisa—courtesan, Dad. That’s courtesan,” Matt said.

Ah.

Different words then.

Matt gazed stiffly over Jack’s shoulder in something that seemed to be shock.

“Are you? A courtes—” Jack offered.

“NO,” Matt snapped. “No, I’m not a sex worker—I’m a lawyer, father. You’ve been there. You’ve seen me lawyering.”

Right, right.

“Partisan means to be affiliated with a political party,” Matt said. “So a bipartisan solution is one that’s agreed on by two parties. Right?”

Mmmmm, right.

“Where are you lost?” Matt asked, exasperated.

The partisan part. So these people were not prostitutes.

“FATHER,” Matt said. “I. AM. BISEXUAL. That does not make me, nor any other bisexual, automatically a prostitute.”

Oh. Well, why didn’t he just say that then?

Matt announced that they were having this conversation only after two shots minimum.

“Sometimes,” Matt explained, a solid three shots in, “People want to fuck people of all kinds of genders, okay?”

Yes. Jack understood this.

Matt frowned and then recoiled. His glasses seemed all askew. Jack started to fix them, but Matt shoved his hand away.

“What do you mean, ‘you understand that?’” he asked.

“Understand what?” Jack asked.

“That people want to fuck people of all kinds of genders,” Matt said.

Oh.

Easy.

Because folks did.

“Not you, though,” Matt said.

Oh. Well. Jack hadn’t thought about it.

Matt’s jaw was doing something weird. Moving around a bit. His lips were twisting like he didn’t know what to say next.

“You’ve never thought about it,” he settled on.

“No, not really,” Jack told him. “There were, you know, queer folks around the neighborhood growing up. They were fine. Never bothered me or nothin’. I thought they were kind of sweet, all paired up and dopey for each other.”

Matt continued to work his jaw. His eyebrows lowered like he was squinting.

“Did you ever think that you wanted to be paired up and dopey with one of them?” he asked.

Say what now?

Matt waited.

“With who?” Jack asked.

“With some twink, pops,” Matt snapped. “Some skinny, pretty boy with big-ass eyes and lips or somethin’.”

Oh.

No, if Jack was going to go for a guy, then he’d want someone bigger than himself, for sure. Hairier by far.

Matt seemed a little pale.

“I need…another shot,” he said.

“Dad, you are attracted to men,” Matt said for the fourteenth time like a sigh.

That wasn’t true.

“You literally just described your ideal man to me,” Matt said.

“You just asked me to,” Jack told him.

“Yeah, and you know what straight guys do when they’re asked that question, Dad? You know what they don’t say? They don’t say that their ideal man is a fuckin’ hairy-ass bear who likes kids and can do housework. That’s gay, father.”

Well then those other guys needed better imaginations.

It was only practical.

“GOD, help me,” Matt told the ceiling. “Everyone in this house is bi but the fuckin’ dog.”

No, no.

That wasn’t what Jack was saying here.

Matt dropped his face from the ceiling and tried to find Jack’s eye so he could sneer at his face. He settled on Jack’s left ear.

“I’m not saying that I’m attracted to guys,” Jack said. “I’m saying that if I was, I’d want a family dude to help me manage my unruly and rude child.”

Matt continued to stare.

“A family dude with a hairy chest and big hands,” he said. “Kinda specific, Pops. You’ve thought about this.”

Well, yes. Why not? Jack could only do so much lifting without hurting his back. If there was a bigger guy around, then they could share the load and the emotional labor that was putting baby Matts to bed.

Matt began a descent in his chair.

“Dad,” he said a little dreamily (or maybe drunkily?) now. “I’m so glad we had this talk.”

Was he?

But they hadn’t said anything. Jack hadn’t even gotten to the ‘love you unconditionally’ part of the video.

“This isn’t a video,” Matt reminded him.

He sounded sleepy now.

“It could be?” Jack told him. “Do you want me to record it?”

“Absolutely not,” Matt hummed. “But do you know how much I love you?”

“I could be reminded,” Jack said.

“So much,” Matt said immediately. “I love you so much.”

Aw.

“I love you, too,” Jack told him, reaching across the table to pet his hair. Matt even allowed it.

Kid was a sloppy drunk, truly. And a lightweight. Jack was taking that there shot glass for the time being. Matty didn’t need it anymore.

“Dad, you should tell the Sister that you want a big burly man to help around the house,” Matt mumbled.

Grace stared.

“You never told me this,” she said a little…hysterically?

Like she didn’t have breath to speak.

“Well, I didn’t think too much about it,” he said. “And Matty asked and it helped him kind of explain things to me, I guess. So it’s fine.”

Grace continued not to blink.

“Jack,” she said after a long time. “Why didn’t you just tell Kenny you liked him?”

What.

Who?

Kenny?

Psh.

Nah. Not in a million years.

“I would have divorced you properly and you could have moved on—Jack.”

Why was everyone being so dramatic?

Kenny was a towering idiot and a flirt of equally massive proportions and his only redeeming feature was his sense of humor.

He continued to be an idiot and a flirt of mass proportions to that day, actually. At the birthday party thing, he’d like, followed Jack around the room and kept touching him and mumbling about how he was really real.

It was weird, man.

“Jackie,” Grace sighed. “Kenny’s had a crush on you for twenty-five years.”

Ahahaha…ha…no wait.

“Haven’t you ever wondered why he hates me so much?” she asked. “Why he’s always leaning on you?”

Er.

Well.

Ahem.

Maybe?

Grace huffed and looked out across the playground next to the church. Jack felt guilty to his teeth.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t notice. I was, uh, focused on you.”

Grace looked back at him. Her eyes softened.

“I know,” she said. She reached across the table and put a hand on top of his. Her palm was warm. “I think we were meant to be, Jackie. Together and not.”

Yeah.

Yeah, that’s how he felt, too.

“I’m just not going to touch that other stuff anymore, if that’s okay?” he told her. “’Cause I don’t want to complicate things and I’m just—I have you. So I never needed anything more or anyone else and that’s—that’s okay, right?”

Grace looked a little weepy when she told him that it was.

That was a relief. He felt a little tight and weepy himself for some reason.

Foggy slammed into Matt’s apartment and stared at Jack and his coffee with huge eyes for about half a second before tearing off to go tackle Matt in his bedroom.

Jack decided that Matt had, in fact, remembered their conversation.

The shot glasses were all cleaned now and Jack had nudged all the liquor just a bit further than usual back into the cabinet.

Matt was an adult; he could make his own decisions about drinking. Jack just…didn’t like the smell of anything besides scotch.

Daddy-issues and all that.

He wasn’t touching them either.

He decided he was going to take a walk.

He definitely wasn’t avoiding another awkward conversation with Foggy.

Definitely not.

He was just getting groceries. That was all. It would give Matt time to process with Fogs. Processing was good for people. The internet and Maria said so.

Maria also said that it was fine and normal to consider in passing what it would be like to be with someone maybe a little less than strictly straight. She said that she’d thought about kissing her best friend in highschool a few times before she’d met Frank.

It was fine. Normal even. For sure. She promised.

She also said that if Jack wanted to borrow Frank for a minute for housework, she would be happy to lend him to him. He was currently making embarrassing noises at some pitbull puppies in Virginia that he needed reminding that he could not have.

Jack didn’t tell her that he would only want Frank in a dark alley.

Preferably one with a chain-link fence to corner the guy against as Jack bared his teeth and slowly twisted Frank’s elbow out of alignment.

These were not godly thoughts.

He asked Maria instead when the next time she would be in town would be. She said that weekend. They made plans for lunch and a chat.

Foggy wasn’t there when Jack got back home and Matt told him that everyone was proud of him for not being as straight as previously assumed.

He didn’t know what that meant.

He didn’t want to know what that meant.

He told Matt he was meeting Maria later that week and not to go out fighting people on Saturday. Matt said he’d think about it.

“Hey Dad,” Matt said just as Jack turned to go start labeling things and putting them away in the fridge.

Jack hummed over his shoulder.

“I love you unconditionally, too,” Matt said. “Regardless of who you like and want to be.”

Oh.

“I want the record to show that I said it first,” Jack said.

Matt laughed and promised that the record would show this.