Caught in the Middle
by xfphile
Hi. My name is Luke Mochrie and I’m going to share a small piece of my life with you.
Why? I don’t know. The only thing I can say is that if I don’t tell someone
soon, I’m going to explode.
It all started about two months after my twelfth birthday. Dad was at a commercial shoot and Mom was cleaning something. I, being the typical adolescent boy that I was, was upstairs, pretending to clean my room (actually, I was playing Nintendo).
You know, I still can’t remember why I was going downstairs. It’s been nearly fifteen years and I still don’t understand what prompted me to walk in on the events of that fateful day.
~~~~~~~~~
I left my room with the intention of going to the kitchen, and heard a noise coming from my parent’s room. It sounded like my mom, and, like an idiot, I got curious and went to investigate.
I very carefully pushed open the door, just enough to see what was going on, and saw my mother---the woman who was married to my father---naked on the bed. With her was a man who most definitely *not* my dad.
I guess I made a noise, because they stopped what they were doing and stared at me with matching expressions on their faces. It would have been funny under any other circumstances.
At any rate, my mom jumped off the bed (somehow managing to grab a sheet at the same time) and hurried me out of the room. An oh-so-comforting “Luke, wait for me in your room” accompanied the insistent shoves and I went, knowing that my life had just irrevocably changed . . . and not for the better.
~~~~~~~~~
I think you can guess what happened. Basically, Mom told me that she was divorcing Dad and marrying this nozzle named Ken. Naturally, I didn’t get a vote.
As if that weren’t bad enough, Dad came to talk to me four days later. I will admit, though, that it was certainly an . . . interesting . . . conversation. At least I got to voice an opinion this time.
~~~~~~~~~
“Luke?”
My father spoke hesitantly from the door of my bedroom. I looked up from where I was listlessly petting Jasper, my dog.
“Yeah?”
He moved into the room, but remained standing. I was grateful for that; I really couldn’t handle people contact right then.
“Umm . . .” he hedged, then sighed heavily. “Son, there’s no easy way to say this, and I hate to spring this on you so suddenly, but Ryan and I---”
Several things suddenly made sense and I interrupted him with an unsurprised, “---got together? Yeah, I figured as much.”
Shocked, he gaped at me like a fish for a few minutes while I tried not to laugh. It really wasn’t funny, but if I didn’t laugh, I was going to break down into sobs, which I really didn’t want to do. I did have to maintain my dignity, after all.
When Dad could finally talk again, we actually had a civilized conversation. I asked how long he and Ryan had been together; the answer of two days floored me. I’d bet have bet my Nintendo that it was more along the lines of two years.
He explained that he wasn’t gay, which I knew; he and Ryan have the same thing that he used to have with my mom. The fact that Ryan is a man is just happenstance. Then he asked which parent I’d rather stay with, which stunned me. Mom hadn’t asked once; actually, she showed very little concern for how I was feeling. I didn’t find out the reason behind that for many years.
Anyway, while I would much rather have stayed with Dad and Ryan, I knew that Ryan was going to have his hands full with his own kids; he didn’t need to worry about me, too. So, in the hardest decision of my young life, I explained my reasoning to my father and watched as he fought back tears.
“I am proud to be your father,” he told me, his voice trembling.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, was that---until the day after my seventeenth birthday.
~~~~~~~~~
I’d moved in with Dad and Ryan shortly after my sixteenth birthday; my stepfather was a jerk of the highest order, and it was either leave or wring his neck. When I called Dad, he was thrilled and sent me a plane ticket the next day. Two weeks later, I moved in.
Everything was great. I’d used to be really close to Mackenzie and it didn’t take long for that to pick back up (we’re coming up on our seventh anniversary, if that tells you anything). I also got to be Sam’s big brother, which was a role I relished.
Things were peachy all the way up to my birthday. Dad and Ryan threw me a big bash and I had a great time, dancing with Mackenzie and being goofy with the rest of my friends. After everyone had gone, I jogged upstairs and said goodnight to Mac. I was heading back to my bedroom when I heard them talking; normally, I would have ignored it, but then my name came up and I got curious again.
Have I mentioned that I’m an idiot?
At first, it was innocuous stuff like how well I’d adapted and that they were glad I’d enjoyed my party. Then Ryan said something that would, again, change my life forever.
“Does he know yet?”
Dad answered, his voice filling with anger.
“What? That he’s that slimy bastard’s son? Not unless Deb told him,” he spat. “As far as I’m concerned, he’s *my* son, and nothing on this planet will change that.”
“I know that, Colin,” Ryan replied patiently. “But what happens when he gets married or needs a blood transfusion, or, God forbid, he ever needs an organ? You aren’t genetically matched and that would be a hell of a time for him to find out!”
There was a long pause, and then Dad sighed. “You’re right. I guess I’ll tell him tomorrow.”
I’d heard enough and pushed the door open all the way. They both froze, staring at me with wide, shocked eyes. Again, it should have been funny.
“Don’t worry about it,” I informed my father. “I already know. And, uh, I won’t be here tomorrow, if that’s okay.”
Dad nodded wordlessly; Ryan put a hand on his shoulder and said, “Just be sure and call if you decide not to come home.”
“Okay,” I replied before turning and walking out. I headed to my room, flopped down on the bed, and proceeded to think. That was the longest night of my life (yes, it actually surpassed the night before my wedding).
~~~~~~~~~
It took me a lot longer to come to terms with the fact that Dad wasn’t my biological father than I thought it would (I moved out of the house two months later in an attempt to get everything sorted out), but I eventually grew to accept it and then to discard it. The only thing biology means is that Ken can give me a blood transfusion; in all other possible ways, Colin Mochrie is and always will be my father.
I still haven’t told my mother that I know the truth; if she doesn’t deem it important enough to discuss with me, then I’m content to let it be.
So, now you know. Sordid, isn’t it? Still, it can’t be any worse than Drew’s story. So, thank you for listening and I’ll bid you a good day (my wife is calling me). Come back when you have all the details about Drew, okay? We can share some laughs.
“Coming, Sweetheart!”
~~~~~~~~~
finis