Doing It Right by Dan Kirk

Chapter 13

by Dan Kirk

“Trevor’s finally asked Jennifer to marry him.” Brian told me and I just chuckled, trying to maintain my concentration on the road. It was raining hard, which made me glad that I’d finally taken his advice to get rid of the jeep and get a new car. The BMW was a whole lot nicer and if we’d been driving the jeep right now, we’d have been soaked even with its top up.

“Well it’s about time.” I replied and he laughed. Trevor had started dating Jennifer his first month at USC, and she was a delightful woman. It was funny, really, how Sean and I had always ended up with Brandon and Brian respectively, but Trevor always seemed to meet and marry someone new in each timeline.

“He’s asked me to be his best man.” Brian added and I nodded.

“Good, the two of you have stayed close over the years.” I said aloud, and I meant it. Trevor was either coming up for a visit, or Brian was going down to Southern California at least once a month. “I take it they’re going to do it after he graduates?”

“Yeah, and before he starts with the Raiders.” Brian smirked, knowing exactly what reaction he’d get from me.

“I can’t believe the Traitors drafted him.” I mumbled with derision.

“You’re still going to talk to him, aren’t you?” Brian teased me and I just shook my head. I’d always despised the Raiders for leaving Oakland, but I couldn’t really blame my old friend for getting picked up by them. It had been something I’d always known he’d dreamed of in every timeline. The first one, he’d had an accident that had wrecked his arm enough to knock him out of the game. In the second, he’d not worked as hard at it in High School, and he’d not gotten the USC football scholarship. Part of that was because of my interactions with him, I knew. In the third, well he’d never made it to college since that timeline ended in 1987.

“Of course.” I answered with a tight expression as an idiot driver cut me off, throwing up even more water from the wet roadway. I took my foot off of the accelerator and increased our distance from the idiot. Sure Dad had sounded pretty urgent when he’d called, but then again he was in the middle of the toughest election he’d ever run in his life.

“Have you made up your mind?” Brian asked and I let out a big sigh, almost closing my eyes and wishing that he’d just give me a little more time. Then again, it was the first week of May and we didn’t have any more time.

“Not yet.” I admitted softly.

“When?” Brian asked just as softly and he reached over to run his hand along my thigh. It was his way of telling me he wasn’t upset, just anxious.

“Tonight.” I promised and he relaxed. We’d had other plans today, but when my father called us early this morning, telling me he needed to speak with both of us, we’d changed our plans. I’d even called Stanford to tell the Coach that I’d be missing today’s practice. Luckily it was raining pretty hard so I wouldn’t be missing much. It was my last year, and I was just playing a short season, because of the upcoming elections, but the MLB draft was right around the corner, and I’d had a few hints that I might get picked up if I put my name in for the draft. Sure, I’d be starting out in a minor league team for a few years, but I stood a good chance of getting moved up to the majors if I worked hard enough.

The only problem with that was that Brian and I had also applied to several big-name law schools and we both had been accepted to them. It was a slight surprise, because never before had Brian showed that much academic interest in something, but in four years at Stanford he’d proven that if he buckled down and concentrated, he could do quite well academically. He had a mind that would trap details, and look at them from all angles before reaching a judgment. He wasn’t as good thinking on his feet as I was, but when it came to analyzing things and reaching the right conclusions, he was better than me, even if it took him longer to reach a decision.

It had been Brian who had come up with a plan for our financial investments back in the summer of 1987. He’d taken a course in economics our senior year, and while I could remember a lot of details still about the future of different economic trends, it had been Brian’s careful analysis of my memories and our finances that had really earned us a lot of money.

When we had turned eighteen, we’d had our lawyer draft a bunch of legal documents that protected us as a couple. I had no fears that our families would do anything like try to shut Brian out if I died in an accident, but we weren’t going to take any chances. Also, I’d wanted to make it clear that the money was our money, not just mine. That had cost a little, as far as taxes, but when it was all over, a limited partnership corporation had been formed to control that money, with Brian and I as the only ‘partners’ in that firm.

During our eight-week road trip, we’d had a lot of time to talk. Sure, we’d known each other for six years, but we were beginning our adult life together, and we talked a lot about everything we could think of, and then some. When we’d gotten back in August, Brian had milked every detail I could remember and had started pulling our stock investments after they hit their all-time high in August of 1987. When the stock market crashed, he’d begun putting the money back in and by 1990 we were on the cusp of going into the category of being ‘millionaires’ despite having bought new cars, a house in the San Francisco bay area, and the expenses of going to school and on vacations every break. We’d now visited all fifty states, and had gone to Europe and several African nations as well.

The African trip was actually paid for by the United Nations. Brian had gotten active in Human Rights campaigns during our junior year at Stanford, and we’d spent six weeks as interns for one of the United Nations human rights teams. Having my father be who he was had helped with that, getting us a few perks and a trip to Africa in the bargain.

My father had lasted one whole term in Congress after winning his 1988 election. In 1990, he’d decided to not seek re-election for office. Part of that was that Gary Condit was running on the Democrat side and his numbers meant trouble. He could challenge my father in the district, and my father didn’t want to have to spend nearly a million dollars just to guarantee re-election. Instead, he’d gone to work as a senior advisor on Pete Wilson’s bid for the California Governorship. At the time of the election, Pete Wilson was one of California’s two US Senators. When Pete Wilson won that election, he’d paid my father back for his help by appointing him to fill the Senate seat that Pete Wilson would be vacating to become Governor.

Dad took office as the junior Senator representing California in January of 1991. Because of the rules that governed such things, my father had to run for the position in 1992, and he’d have to run again in 1994 if he won the 1992 election. In the original timeline, John Seymour had been appointed to that Senate seat by Pete Wilson. When it had come time to run in 1992, Seymour had lost to Dianne Feinstein. In the 1994 election, she’d easily beat Michael Huffington and was joined by Barbara Boxer in the other Senate seat, giving California two Democratic, female Senators all the way through the rest of the 1990’s and into 2004. I remembered that in 2004 it was expected that they’d both still be representing California until at least 2010.

Now, in this timeline, my father was being challenged for the Republican nomination by John Seymour. In an interesting twist, Pete Wilson had not endorsed my father, but at least he’d stayed neutral by not endorsing Seymour either. Seymour was running a hard-line social conservative campaign against my father, who was considered a ‘moderate’ by most people. President Bush, who had never liked my father, was openly giving support to Seymour, further motivating the more conservative base, and right now the two were running neck-and-neck. The only thing really keeping my father competitive was that he had strong support amongst the rural communities who still remembered him as Secretary of Agriculture and how he’d helped them during several fights over water (water being an important issue to Californians). It was also a help that my father was the incumbent, and as such had gotten several important programs for California.

“Have you heard anymore from Sean?” Brian asked, breaking my train of thought about the past few years. We were almost to Modesto now, at least and we would soon know what was so important for my father to have us drive all this way in the rain. I knew it wasn’t Mom because she’d recovered just fine from her surgery last year and was busy siphoning money from donors into dad’s campaign war chest. That surgery had greatly reduced the hump on her back, and given her almost full lung capacity for the first time since she was thirteen. By the time the doctors had declared her fit to work, she’d hit the floor running and hadn’t slowed down yet, reveling in the greatly reduced pain, and the better ability to breath. She’d even started exercising regularly.

“Not since you and I had that conference call with him.” I shrugged. That had been… interesting.

“Well, all the bank paperwork will be done by the end of the month.” Brian said with a sigh. “It’s a good thing we did that oil investment scheme back in 1990. That pushed us well over the million mark and so we’ll still have plenty of money to pay for the loan and still do our own thing without having to work. I’ve heard from New York and Georgetown on the financial aid stuff. The UN is offering a full-ride if we intern with them every summer.”

“Brian.” My voice had an edge to it and he just shook his head with a sad smile. I knew what he was trying to do, and while it made me slightly angry I knew he meant it with love. If I chose baseball, I’d be giving up a lot, and so would he. Brian wouldn’t be happy, but we weren’t going to break up or anything if I chose to play baseball, most likely stuck on the West Coast, while he studied law on the East Coast and interned for the United Nations.

“Are you really sure that Sean and Brandon will make money on this venture?” Brian asked me and I nodded. Sean was taking some technology that had been developed for the time machine and applying it for use in medicine. Brandon was handling all the software aspects of it while Sean did the hardware. I remembered how in the first two timelines, Brandon had studied computer programming and made millions with Internet file transfer protocols. What he was doing was very similar to that, and I was amazed at how well Sean had blended their skills into a working program. He’d needed money for his program to work, and I was glad he hadn’t hesitated to talk to us, as well as our parents.

When he turned eighteen, I’d given him a hundred thousand of my money, and mom had set up a trust fund for him that matched what he’d gotten from me, but that wasn’t nearly enough to set up his new company. He needed investments that could act as collateral for the millions in loans he’d need. After much discussion, Brian and I had put up one million, almost all of our investments, and my mother had put in another half a million dollars. That was just enough to give Sean the collateral he needed for three times that amount in loans. As a result, my mother, Brian, and I were ‘silent partners’ in Brandon and Sean’s business. When he started making profits, we’d share in that. Further, as he paid off the loans he’d gotten with our collateral, control of that money would return to us.

As long as he actually made money and didn’t go bankrupt, we’d all profit nicely from his work.

“I’m certain of it.” I assured Brian once again and he settled down, slouching a bit in his seat. I looked over at him quickly, and smiled. He was so handsome. We worked out together still, and we were both still very fit. His platinum blond hair, like mine, had gotten darker as we got older, and his was now more of an ash blond while mine bordered on just being plain brown. He kept it short now, like mine, although he spiked it a bit in front while I went with the classic Caesar style cut. “How was the dinner with Uncle Rich and Paul?”

“It was good.” Brian said with a slight smile. “Too bad you couldn’t be there. He landed the sub-account for the Clinton commercial. He says thanks for getting him the recommendation.”

“Not a problem.” I replied. In the past four years, I’d been working with California’s Young Democrats, steadily building better political contacts. At first I’d been eyed warily, with my father being a leading Republican, but my work in the 1990 campaign against Pete Wilson had helped establish that I was independent of my father. The fact that I was openly supportive of my father’s election to the Senate hadn’t hurt me too much. Most people understood that there were times family came first. It didn’t hurt though that my father was considered a moderate Republican, and had actually become friendly with a few of the key Democrats in the US Senate with his support of some Democratic measures regarding aid to former Soviet Union nations.

Yeah, the Soviet Union had collapsed in 1991 just like it had in the original timeline. The first Gulf War had also happened, almost exactly like it had in the original timeline as well. One of the major differences was that my father was in the US Senate now, and had been a sharp critic of the President’s decision to not pursue the ouster of Saddam Hussein at the end of the war. Some day, his words would probably be considered prophetic as he’d predicted that the decision would require decades of military presence to keep Saddam contained and might require a future war to remove him altogether, along with a long, costly occupation not supported by our allies who were currently much more supportive.

“I love you.” Brian said as we pulled into the house.

“I love you too.” I responded, giving him a smile as I turned off the car and we proceeded to get out of the car and dash into the house. It didn’t look much different than it had when we had graduated, and Maria was already opening the door for us.

“You boys get inside!” She said with a smile as both gave her a hug. “Oh, you’re wet!”

“Well it is raining.” Brian replied and she slapped him lightly on the arm. We were wearing jeans, t-shirts, and jean jackets. So far we’d resisted the urge to buy ripped jeans as was becoming the current fashion.

“Well, Mr. Jones is waiting for you in the study.” Maria said with a huff. “Mrs. Jones is at a meeting with your mother, Brian. They both expect you will be staying for dinner.”

“We will.” Brian assured her with a smile.

“It’s good seeing you.” I told the woman who I’d actually spent more time with than my own parents before graduating from high school. She was looking good, despite being a little older and nearly to retirement age. Last time I’d talked to my mother, she’d been trying to talk to Maria about retiring, but the woman was insisting she’d work for us until the day she died.

“You get along and be ready to eat a nice dinner.” She told me while pushing lightly on my arm. I just laughed before Brian and I headed down the hallway. We opened the sliding door and I noticed once again how little my father’s study had changed. The red leather chairs were new, but looked very similar to the ones that had been there when I was younger. The computer on his desk was brand new, though, as was the television on the far wall that he was watching. He nodded and pointed to the seats as we came in, all without really taking his eyes off of the television screen. It was a recent speech by his opponent, and when the man finished, he turned it off to look at us.

“Thanks for coming, boys.” My father said, getting up from his chair and coming around the desk to give each of us a hug.

“It’s not a problem.” I said as we all sat back down and he gave us a long look.

“How are things going?” Dad asked.

“Not bad.” Brian said with a shrug. “Finals are going to be a pain in the ass this year though.”

“Well I’m sure you’ll both do fine as always.” Dad said and I was reminded of the C I’d gotten my sophomore year. Sure, I’d been through college before, but Stanford was harder than anything I’d ever done, and it had taken that C grade to make me realize I couldn’t just surf through these classes on autopilot. Since then my grades had been mostly A’s with a few B’s here and there.

“So what’s up that we had to drive out here in the rain?” I asked, letting my curiosity burn through. Dad frowned, and didn’t answer the question directly. Instead he gave me a long look, and I began to grow a little nervous.

“Son, have you made a decision yet about your future?” Dad asked and I almost groaned. If Brian had gotten him to do this…

“Not yet.” I growled through clenched teeth. A quick glance at Brian relaxed me though, because he looked slightly confused.

“I hate to have to do this, son, but I’ve really got no choice.” Dad said and my heart plummeted slightly at the tone of his voice. He lifted a manila envelope off of his desk and handed it to me with a grim expression. I opened it slowly, and Brian scooted over to look at what was inside as I pulled out a slick mailer with a prominent photo on it that elicited a groan from both Brian and I.

It was a good picture, and despite the horror I felt as I looked at it, I couldn’t deny the tightening in my pants. I remembered the day it had been taken quite well, although until now I didn’t know this picture existed. It was last summer, and I’d pitched a perfect no-hitter against one of the best college teams. After the game, which had been at Stanford, Brian had been waiting for me near the locker rooms. It was a little secluded area, and we thought we’d been unobserved as I leapt into his arms, wrapped my legs around him and planted a big kiss on his lips. Brian had almost dropped me in surprise, but the picture, taken just seconds after we’d kissed showed the smiles on our faces and the look of love between us. Brian’s hands were resting on my butt, holding me up, and were clearly visible against my white uniform pants. I hadn’t gone into the locker room to shower and change that day. Instead, Brian and I had rushed back to our house and had wild, passionate sex. I’d come deep in his ass, and curled up next to him afterwards, falling asleep extremely happy.

“Oh fuck, Davey, I’m so sorry.” Brian whispered as he read the text of the political mailer. The headline “Jones Family Values?” was the least cruel thing said in the piece. It was a vindictive attack piece, obviously directed at conservative religious voters, questioning my father’s values by attacking his gay son. On the back, I noticed that the piece was paid for by a political group being funded by several major televangelists.

“Is this an advanced copy?” I asked my father and sighed when he shook his head.

“Martha Lompoc got it this morning and brought it over here right away.” Dad explained and I shook my head. “Son, I’m really sorry about this.”

“What are you sorry for?” I asked him with a sharp edge in my voice that had nothing to do with him at all. “You didn’t have anything to do with this. It’s an attack on you. They’re using me as a tool to keep you from winning the election. I should be apologizing to you.”

“None of us should be apologizing to each other.” Dad said in a stern voice, and I looked up to meet his gaze. His eyes were filled with anger, but I knew that anger wasn’t directed at me. For me, he had compassion in his gaze. “Damn it all to hell, son! I’ve never been more proud of you than I have been in the last few years. I’ve never been more ashamed to be a Republican than I am right now. This is flat out wrong! Sure, I’m still not sure what God may think about gay people, but I know for damn sure that if there’s any way he might approve of it, it’ll be because of people like you and Brian! You’ve kept your private life together quiet all these years, even though it might have helped you politically. I’m just sorry it’s happening now.”

“The major leagues aren’t going to like this at all.” I murmured with a dead feeling. That childhood dream, like the original dream of one day being an astronaut was dying its final death right now. Even if the major leagues were willing to take a risk by signing an openly gay player, I knew every single pitch I ever threw would be made into a political statement. If I were better, if I was as good as some of the best pitchers in the league, I would do it without a second’s thought. The problem was, I wasn’t quite major-league material yet. I might make it there in a few years, but not now and this was coming out now. Right now, thousands of thousands of people would be checking their mailbox today and they’d be treated to the sight of Brian and I in each other’s arms. Ah hell, I was wearing my baseball uniform in the picture, which meant I’d have to call Stanford right away and let them know. The media storm wouldn’t hit right away, but I’d be surprised if we weren’t getting phone calls by the mid-afternoon.

“Davey, you know I’ll always support you.” Dad said firmly and Brian took my hand in his, squeezing it gently as I put the piece-of-shit mailer back on Dad’s desk. Some little part of me wondered if I could buy the original photo and blow it up. We were so happy in that picture. A rage began to build up in me at that thought. Someone had taken a very happy moment in my life and was now using it as a political attack, dragging my life into the public eye. There was nothing to be ashamed of, it was just we’d chosen to keep it quiet so we would not have to deal with the media circus. For better or worse, my father was a political figure, and that meant that my life could be opened up to public scrutiny. My thoughts drifted back to the first 2004 I’d lived through, and how Vice-President Cheney’s daughter had been a point of controversy. I’d never liked Cheney, but for a brief moment when he’d retorted against Edwards during their little debate, I’d actually felt a smidge of respect.

Now, however many decades later, that almost made me sick, but it was there nonetheless.

“Thank you.” I told my father, my voice giving evidence of the growing rage I was feeling. “Um, we probably should make a few phone calls and let people know this is happening. I know the… Coach at Stanford will need to know. I’m pretty sure he’s long since figured us out, but it was something we haven’t discussed. I’ll need to call and let people know I won’t be putting my name up for the draft, and I think Jenny should probably be called. You’d probably have better luck getting in touch with her.”

“I already talked to her.” Dad said. “She threatened to go AWOL in order to protect her big brother.”

“You tell her to stay where she is.” I said with a smirk. “I’m looking forward to seeing her graduate and get her commission.”

“She’s still ranked third in her class.” Dad told me and I nodded tightly. It was pleasant thinking about my sister being a cadet in the Air Force Academy. I’d even told Dad by the time she graduated flight school that he should be voting on allowing women to fly combat aircraft. What he took from that, I wasn’t sure, but I’d noticed he’d softened any campaign rhetoric against certain Democrat presidential candidates. “Son, you shouldn’t let this stop you going after your dream of playing ball in the big leagues.”

“Dad, I don’t want every single damn pitch I make to be something that can be used as a good/bad point in the debate on gay people.” I snarled with frustration and Brian’s grip grew a little stronger.

“I never expected you’d want to take something like this lying down.” Dad said calmly. I met his gaze and smiled.

“I never planned to take this lying down.” I told him fiercely and he smiled. “I just want to fight it on grounds I can control. Going for the baseball thing… well it’d be too easy for them to use it to fuck me over.”

“Language.” He chided me and I shook my head.

“Sorry, just a little upset here.”

“What about you, Brian?” Dad asked. “You know I consider you to be my son-in-law and as much a part of this family as I would if Davey had been straight and married a girl.”

“I know, and thank you.” Brian said gently and our eyes met for a moment. He was as angry as I was. “I think… have you talked to your campaign staff?”

“Yes.” Dad said tightly. “They’re split on what they want… one suggested we distance ourselves from Davey. Not really say anything negative about him, but to keep a visible ‘hands off’ approach. We’re going to have to fill Bill’s position next week. I fired him on the spot.”

“Dad.” I said reprovingly and he gave me a stern look.

“I don’t want anyone working for me who doesn’t understand that family comes first.” Dad said firmly. “That’s real family values, not this crap they’re pushing in that mailer. Family stays together, no matter what. We love each other, we care for each other, and while we may not approve of everything we each do, we still love and care for one another. I’m sure there are things I’ve said or done you didn’t support.”

“Like voting against the tax increase?” I asked and he chuckled.

“So we are going to fight back?” Dad asked and I looked at Brian’s clear blue eyes. There was the support there, as always, but there was also a fire there, and I knew this was a fight that he was looking forward to engaging.

“Yes.” We said in unison and we both looked at my father, who was smiling wickedly.

“Then let’s get down to business.” Senator David R. Jones, Sr., Republican from California said as he rubbed his hands together.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“You guys going to start up your own consulting firm?” Dad’s campaign consultant asked with a worried tone as we all went through the final preparations for tonight’s interview. Maria had done an excellent job dusting and polishing everything in my father’s office so that it shone under the television lights. Mr. Byron Thurston Lowell was an older man in his late sixties, and more than likely my father’s senate race would be his last campaign.

“Byron, have you forgotten these boys are Democrats?” My father asked as a young make-up woman from the campaign gave his face a final brush-up.

“I was thinking we might be able to switch them back.” Byron said with a laugh before clapping Brian on the shoulder with fondness. The last three weeks had seen a concentrated flurry of activity on several fronts, and a lot of it had sprung from ideas brought forward by Brian. Most of them went through several permutations, changes, adjustments, tweaks, and a few were scrapped, but he’d been a veritable fount of ideas for the attack on the people behind that mailer, and anyone at all who sought to use it for their own good.

Seymour, my father’s opponent in the Republican primary hadn’t been the source of the mailer, but a private detective had confirmed he’d been the source of the picture. He’d had that picture taken by people doing opposition research last year, and had left it lying around where the group that had sent the mailer was able to get their hands on it and use it for their piece. Once the piece had begun hitting homes, and the LA Times as well as the San Diego Union-Tribune had picked up on the story, Seymour’s campaign had launched a well-planned assault on my father for his ‘lack of family values’.

He even released a commercial using that mailer and a few other things to attack my father in conservative Orange County.

It had been Sean who reminded me, and informed Brian, of Seymour’s attack on Dianne Feinstein in two of the previous timelines. He’d made a commercial so offensive that it turned off voters big time and helped Dianne Feinstein kick his ass in their 1992 General election battle. This battle was between Republicans, though, and the rules were a little different. My father’s base voters were mostly social moderates and liberals while Seymour all but ruled the social conservative voters. Both my father and Seymour were staunch fiscal conservatives, and so the Republican fiscal conservative base was split fairly evenly between them. It was the social issues that would motivate Republican voters to pick one or the other, and that was what had us worried.

Anyone seriously involved in elections could recite the simple factors that governed how a person got elected. First you had to identify who the voters were, what issues drove them, how they turned out to vote, and what was needed to get them to the polls voting for you. Then you had to craft messages that met those ends; that got those voters out. The rest, raising money, television ads, campaign appearances, campaign mail, all that were means to the end. They were the implementation of the strategy for getting out people who will vote for you.

As Byron, the campaign consultant, conferred with Leslie Miller, the beautiful middle-aged campaign manager, I shifted a little nervously on my stool. Brian sat on my right, and smiled at me reassuringly while I could hear Sean murmuring reassurances to Brandon. Jenny was on the other side of Sean, laughing softly at something Jess Whitman, her current boyfriend was saying to her. We were all arranged in a semi-circle around my mother and father, who were sitting in the red leather armchairs, slightly tilted towards each other. Brian and I were wearing dark blue suits while Sean had gone with a pinstripe suit. Brandon looked a little stiff in his dark black suit and green tie, but he was relaxing as Sean kept on whispering to him. I fidgeted with my light blue tie while Brian just smiled at me. He was wearing a gold tie that I hoped wouldn’t clash too bad on camera. My sister and her boyfriend were in their Air Force uniforms, their cadet rank emblems flashing in the television lights. My father was in one of his best pin-stripe suits while my mother was wearing a beautiful pale blue dress that looked elegant yet simple at the same time.

“Microphone checks, everyone, starting with in the back, from the left.” One of the news technicians said. Brian started off with the small microphone pinned to his lapel. At least we were sitting on stools. Poor Mom and Dad probably had the battery packs digging into the small of their backs already.

Barbara Walters finished it off from where she sat in a chair in front of us. I’d met her before, in another timeline, and had a good idea what to expect from those interviews. For the last two hours, she’d toured the house while her camera crew filmed everything from our family lunch to the beautiful view from our back porch, and pretty much every room in the house. Most of that was for ‘background’ material and now it was show time.

“Before we begin, how about a prayer?” My dad said as he turned in his seat to look at us. He’d waited purposely until the cameras were turned on, but we were not yet ‘officially’ recording, and as arranged last night, we all joined hands and bowed our heads while he led us in what we hoped would look like a spontaneous moment of prayer. When he was done praying, asking for wisdom and guidance, he turned back around and nodded at Barbara who had cocked her head while watching us. She had a slight smile on her face as she returned the nod, cleared her throat, and nodded to her cameramen. They had three cameras set up in Dad’s office for this, and would catch just about every gesture, every look from any of us.

“Good evening.” Barbara began, looking at the camera that was off to Brian’s right and facing her. It was afternoon, really, but the piece would be airing tomorrow night. Barbara was still speaking to the camera, and the audience. “We’re here tonight, in Modesto California with Senator David Jones and his family. Senator, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise, Barbara.” Dad said with a smile and a short nod of his head.

“I’ve been a fan of yours for years.” Mom added with a beautiful smile. She sat much straighter in her chair than she would have before her back surgery.

“Thank you, Mrs. Jones.” Barbara replied.

“Please, call me Sandy.” Mom said, repeating what she’d told Barbara when the two of them first met. Barbara just nodded.

“Senator, you have a lovely home.” Barbara continued. “How long have you lived here?”

“We moved into the home in 1976.” My father answered with a broad smile. “They’re going to have to carry us out of here feet first, too. We love the place.”

“It’s certainly a nice home.” Barbara stated before a long pause. So far, this was pretty scripted. At this point, once they were done editing, they would cut away to the tour of the house that they’d recorded earlier in the day. After her pause, Barbara’s face grew slightly more serious, but she was still smiling. “Senator, you’re originally from Phoenix, Arizona, right?”

“That is correct.” Dad answered. “I was born in Phoenix and lived there until I was eighteen. My father owned a small grocery store that he sold before we moved. Mother was from Oklahoma and moved to Phoenix where she met my father. The rest of her family moved here to Modesto, but she stayed. When my father sold the store, we moved out here so Mom could be closer to her relatives.”

“Is it true that you dated Linda Carter in high school?” Barbara asked and my father chuckled while a smile formed on my face. Mom was frowning, but mostly in mock-anger. Linda Carter was the actress who had played Wonder Woman in the 1970’s television show and was also famous for doing Maybelene commercials.

“Actually, I dated her sister, Pamela.” My father answered. “Although, I’d like to state for the record that my wife, Sandy, is much more beautiful than either Linda or Pamela.”

“You better say that.” Mom growled, and we all laughed. That seemed to take the nervous edge off of my sister, her boyfriend, and both Sean and Brandon. Brian was as relaxed as always, and I so wanted to take his hand at that moment. Not yet though, that would come later.

“Sandy, you grew up right here in Modesto, didn’t you?” Barbara asked, sticking with the softball background material.

“That’s right.” Mom said with a smile as she reached out and took Dad’s hand. “My mother and father moved here from Arkansas during the 1930’s. California’s Central Valley was a popular destination for people fleeing the Dust Bowl of the 1930’s and looking to make new lives during the Great Depression. I was born right here in Modesto, at the same hospital where both Davey and Jenny were born.”

“Are you from a large family?” Barbara asked her and Mom chuckled softly.

“Not really.” Mom answered. “My mother remarried when I was six years old, and I went from just having two sisters to having two older brothers and four older sisters.”

“That must have been fun.” Barbara said with a sympathetic smile. “So your natural father died?”

“No, my mother divorced him in 1957.” My mother answered and continued to explain before Barbara could speak. “Back then, divorce was much more difficult to get, but my natural father was a gambling addict who spent nearly every penny my mother made for the family. Finally, she told him he had to make a choice between his card games or supporting his family. When he went out gambling again, she threw all of his stuff on the front lawn and filed for a divorce. She met my step-father later that year at church, and they got married.”

“Your mother sounds like a strong woman.” Barbara stated.

“She is.” Mom agreed. “She’s always placed the welfare of her children, and grandchildren foremost, and it’s a lesson I’ve taken to heart from her. Family comes first, always.”

The softball questions continued for another ten minutes after that, going over how they met, how they fell in love, and when they got married. Then they discussed my birth, and I knew I blushed a bit at their descriptions of how they felt when I’d been born. After that, it was Jenny’s turn to blush as they described her coming into their lives. Barbara all but skipped Dad’s early career as a preacher, and going to bible college in Florida before moving back to California.

“When we toured the house, you showed us the large family photo in the front hallway.” Barbara laid the groundwork for her next question. “There were two young men in that photo, one of whom is here tonight. How did they come into your family?”

“Sean and Jeremy both came into our family back in 1984.” Mom said with a soft tone that showed a great deal of sadness. “We took Jeremy as a foster-child after his natural parents left him in the hospital and declared he was no longer their son.”

“Why would parents do a thing like that?” Barbara asked, knowing full well the answer. She had been charged many times with giving too many softball questions, and she wasn’t disappointing now. Most people knew that she also liked to get her guests to cry, and if my eyes were any indication, she wouldn’t be disappointed. I looked over at Brian and his eyes were already moist.

“In the early 1980’s I served as the director of President Reagan’s AIDS team.” Dad took up the explanation as tears formed in Mom’s eyes and she started to sniffle. Sometimes I was astounded at how good she was. She’d probably have done well as an actress. “Jeremy was hit by a car one night and had to have surgery. During the surgery he was given blood contaminated by the AIDS virus. His parents couldn’t handle it and washed their hands of him. I talked it over with my family, and we decided that we’d offer him a home here. Back then the drugs we have now that extend the lifespan of those infected with AIDS weren’t developed, and we knew he’d have a short time to live. We wanted to do what we could to make that a good time for him, and as normal a life as possible.”

“Weren’t you worried he would infect your children?” Barbara asked with a look of concern on her face.

“I’m not going to lie and say there was no chance of that.” Mom stated firmly, holding her head high and looking right at Barbara with a fierce determination few people ever got to see. “I couldn’t deny that there was always a chance of infection, but it’s so low naturally, and with proper measures it can be made almost non-existent. Thanks to my husband’s work, we knew exactly how the disease can be spread, and how to make any risk so low it might as well not exist. I don’t see how any parent could deny a bright, loving young man like Jeremy a chance at a somewhat normal life. He was the most wonderful young man, and yet we all knew, including him that he’d die before he ever saw his eighteenth birthday. He didn’t let that stop him though, and I was absolutely determined that I wouldn’t let anything stop him either.”

“He was a good guy.” My sister spoke up for the first time, sitting tall on her stool and looking out with eyes that were as misty as anyone else’s. “Once he realized that we weren’t going to turn our backs on him, and that we were here for him, he was able to relax and just enjoy being with us. We did a lot of things… a lot of fun things. It hurt so bad when he did pass away.”

“He attended school with your children, didn’t he?” Barbara asked and my father frowned.

“We’ve never made a distinction between our natural children and the children we adopted.” My father’s voice was stern. “They are all our children, equally. Yes, Jeremy attended Downey High along with our other children. We believe that public schools provide a good education, and we wanted our children to attend them the way we both attended public schools as children.”

“Wasn’t there some fuss made at first when it became public knowledge that Jeremy was HIV positive?” Barbara asked and I felt a surge of old anger, and old satisfaction.

“Yes.” Mom answered with a solid frown. “One of the local pastors tried to use Jeremy as a political attack against my husband. Fortunately, the community saw through that and they welcomed Jeremy with open arms, just as we did. It’s one of the reasons why we are so proud to live here in Modesto, and couldn’t really consider any other place home.”

“Davey, weren’t you involved in that?” Barbara asked me and I smiled gently.

“Yes.” I answered. “I saw the windbag that was trying to stir up trouble out on the front steps of the school and confronted his lies with the truth.”

“How old were you?” Barbara asked me.

“Fourteen.” I answered with a shrug.

“I don’t know many fourteen year olds who would do that in support of someone they barely knew.” Barbara stated and my smile slipped into a frown.

“I was raised with a strong message from my parents to always do what I believed was right.” I said. “How could I just stand there and let some troublemaker stir up fear and hatred of someone who deserved neither? I’d like to think there are a lot of people like me who wouldn’t let that happen, and as my classmates showed back then, there are. Dr. Darnell was removed from his position at a local church within weeks of that happening. I can’t say I was sorry to hear that, either. Anyone who would use a kid like Jeremy for their own political purposes should be punished for that.”

“Couldn’t some say that you were doing the same thing?” Barbara asked, throwing a slightly harder ball at my father who just shook his head.

“We were quite prepared to have Jeremy with us, to love him and care for him, without anyone ever knowing what we were doing.” My father said. “If… certain people in the community had kept quiet about it, it would never have become public knowledge and we wouldn’t be talking about it right now. Our only goal was to do what was right: to give Jeremy a place to live, our love, and as happy a life as was possible, for as long as possible. I think we accomplished that, despite the obstacles that were thrown up along the way. Many politicians today talk about family values. I prefer to live them.”

“What are your family values?” Barbara asked, switching the topic and speeding up on her fast pitches.

“To love one another, and God, without condition.” My father answered firmly and without any hesitation.

“That’s it?” Barbara asked and my mother laughed softly.

“What else should there be?” My mother asked.

“What about children obeying their parents?” Barbara asked.

“If a child loves his parent, and God, the child will obey.” My mom answered with a shrug. “We believe children raised knowing they are loved, without condition, and raised loving others without condition, and loving God, will honor their parents and God.”

“So you never set rules for your children?” Barbara asked with wide eyes.

“I wish.” Sean snorted.

“Sean, you were adopted at the same time as Jeremy?” Barbara asked, switching to my adoptive brother.

“Yes.” Sean said with a wide smile. “That was the happiest day of my life! My natural parents… well they were in cahoots with that preacher guy that tried to screw over Jeremy and they didn’t like the fact that I wouldn’t kowtow to some of their beliefs, so they tried to ship me off. Pop Jones took me in and adopted me.”

“So you found the rules were more lax with the Jones family?” Barbara asked Sean, who snorted.

“No, actually they were more strict in many ways.” Sean answered. “The thing is, the rules here, they’re meant to protect us, not restrict us. Pop Jones was gone a lot, with his work in Washington, and so was Mom J. with her work, but there was always an adult here and they always called every night. Every night they spent time with us on the phone, as a group and one-on-one, asking about what went on that day, how we were doing in our homework, and making sure we were doing all right. If we had a problem, they expected to hear about it and would always help us if we needed it. We could stay out later than I could have with my natural parents, but we had to tell them where we’d gone and what we did. It was cool though, because they were really interested, really wanted to know what we were doing.”

“Did you ever lie?” Barbara asked and Sean blushed slightly while Mom and Dad turned to look at him with expressions of curiosity.

“The two times I tried, they could tell.” Sean said with embarrassment. “I never tried again after that. I didn’t need to. Sure, if I did something wrong, I got punished, but the punishment for lying to them was far worse. I learned it’s better to tell the truth when you’ve done something wrong, because the punishment for lying about it is always worse than what the truth would have gotten you.”

“That’s just one of the lessons we learned from our parents.” My sister spoke up, drawing Barbara’s attention. “We also learned to respect people, and that respecting people meant more than liking those you agree with. They also taught us to fight for what we believe in, because if it’s worth believing in it, it’s worth fighting for as well.”

“Is that why you joined the Air Force?” Barbara asked my sister, who blushed slightly.

“Well, that, and to fly planes.” My sister admitted, getting a laugh from all of us who knew her love of flying.

“Davey, what was it like growing up with parents who were gone a lot?” Barbara asked me, surprising me a bit.

“It was hard at times.” I admitted. “I liked having them around more, but at the same time it drew us closer. Because they were gone so much, we had to work to spend time with each other. The nightly phone calls helped, and Mom was usually here at least half of the week, if not more. If we needed her to be here, she was always here. Dad would always take time off if he needed to be here, so we knew we were important to them. Sundays, after church was always our family time together. We’d play board games and catch up on everything we hadn’t talked about during the week. I think in many ways the separation brought us closer as a family. Certainly we stay in touch now almost as much as we did then. We’re always calling each other and talking several times a week.”

“Before we started this interview, all of you prayed together.” Barbara said as she shifted her attention back to my father. “Is that something your family does a lot?”

“All the time.” My father said. “The day we moved into this house, we prayed. When Jeremy and Sean joined our family, we prayed. Before we go on vacation together, we pray. It’s something we do, turning to our Lord and asking him for his guidance whenever we face a crossroads in our lives, no matter how big or small.”

“The first day of school.” My sister said with a grin.

“The day of a baseball game.” I added.

“Going shopping for new furniture.” Sean added with a smile, earning a glare from Mom.

“So your religious beliefs play a large role in your life?” Barbara asked my father who nodded. We all knew where this was going.

“Davey, for the past few weeks a photo of you and the young man sitting next to you has been creating quite a stir in your father’s campaign for the Senate.” Barbara stated, looking me in the eye and pitching her hardest fastball right over the plate.

“Yes, it has.” I said somberly.

“You’re homosexual.” She stated without emotion.

“I’m gay, yes.” I countered and she cocked her head to the side.

“You say that as if there’s a difference.” She replied.

“There is.” I answered as I reached over and took Brian’s hand gently into mine, raising our joined hands to rest on my knee where the camera could see them. I had started my swing, and was going to do my best to hit it over the center field wall and into the upper deck. “The word ‘homosexual’ refers to an act of just sex. It’s used to refer to someone who has sex with a person of the same gender. As such, it does fit as a descriptor, but it’s not who I am, it’s not the center of my being. When I use the word ‘gay’, I use it in a broader context. I use it to mean I am someone who is attracted to a person of the same gender. More importantly, it describes that I choose to acknowledge how God made me and to live my life in a way that I believe he would approve. This man next to me is my partner, Brian. I love him with all my heart, and God willing, I’ll grow old with him and love him more than I do today. Barbara, people who don’t like gays would rather stick to the phrase ‘homosexual’ because that helps them keep the focus on just a sex act, not the complete picture of our lives as gay people.”

“When did you know you were gay?” Barbara asked me with a slight smile and I smiled wide enough to show my teeth.

“When did you know you were straight?” I countered and she blinked for a moment.

“I, uh, I’m not sure what you mean.” She answered. “I’ve always been straight.”

“So what makes you think it was any different for me?” I asked her and she paused for a long moment of silence.

“Interesting point.” She conceded. “Have you ever been interested in a girl?”

“Not in the way you mean.” I answered with a very slight shrug. I bit down the urge to ask her the same question again. “I have no problems with girls, or being friends with them, but they don’t…interest me the way they would if I was straight. I’m much more interested in Brian.”

“When did you two meet?” Barbara asked and Brian spoke up for the first time.

“We met on the first day of the seventh grade.” Brian answered with a wide smile as he proceeded to tell the tale of his knocking Sean down by accident, and how I got into his face about that. “We became good friends after that.”

“So you started seeing each other at twelve?” Barbara’s voice was… almost horrified.

“No.” Brian laughed. “We were good friends for a few years. Our freshman year at high school, that started to change though and we both realized we were attracted to each other. We talked about it, and well we started dating.”

“In high school?” Barbara asked.

“In high school.” I confirmed.

“Weren’t you afraid that you’d… that you might get rejected?” Barbara asked. “I mean most boys at that age wouldn’t take too kindly to being asked out by another boy.”

“Most guys worry about a girl rejecting them.” Brian said with a shrug. “I was more worried that he was going to say no and that it would screw up our friendship. We’ve been good friends since we first met, and losing that friendship was a very scary thought. The thing was, I knew I wanted more, and I thought he did too, but the only way I was going to find out was to ask him.”

“Brian and I have been very lucky.” I added. “I think this is another reason why the fanatics trying to use my relationship with Brian against my father are so scared of people being open about being gay or lesbian. It’s awful hard to hate or fear people you know and love. Brian has an uncle who is openly gay, and as a result his family has always been more open and accepting of gay people.”

“I met Brian’s uncle on the same day Davey met Brian.” My father interrupted, and I smiled at the memory. “What Davey said about it being harder to hate or fear people you know is absolutely true. After working with Richard for several years, and seeing what a fine, upstanding man he is, I had to do a lot of soul-searching about what I had believed regarding gay people. Davey is also right about how much we seem to focus on the actual act of sex and our disgust with it.”

“The idea of two men having sex disgusts you?” Barbara asked my father who shuddered slightly.

“Yes, even now I find it… distasteful.” My father answered with a frown. “But that’s not the end-all, be-all of being gay, as I’ve learned from both my son and Brian’s uncle. It’s also about love, respect, and every other thing you will find in a male/female relationship. When you move past thinking about just the physical act, you learn that gay and lesbian people are just ordinary people who love, feel pain, bleed, and die just like the rest of us. It’s easy to hate someone you don’t know, who you can think of as being different, but in all the ways that count, I know my son is not all that different from me.”

“But he’s dating another boy.” Barbara pointed out.

“Twenty years ago, my parents threw out one of my step-sisters because she was getting married.” My mother spoke up softly and I almost winced. Nope, Nanny and Papa wouldn’t like this, even if they’d since apologized to the daughter in question, and her black husband. “They threw her out because the man she was marrying happened to be black. A lot of the people who are leading the charge against my son and his partner are the same people who would have told my parents they did the right thing. They’ve since apologized to her and her husband, but the fact is that they missed out on twenty years of her life, and on getting to know three of their own grandchildren. I refuse to lose that time with my sons.”

The interview went on, with another forty minutes of taping being done, but I knew at that moment that my parents had both scored major points. When it aired the next night, my father surged forward eight points in the polls and his opponent made the mistake of trying to ridicule me during a televised debate. He had been booed down by the audience before my father even had a chance to respond, and had slipped another five points in the polls.

On Election Day, in June of 1992, my father managed to get fifty-two percent of the vote from registered Republicans, giving him the support needed to square off against a Democratic opponent in the November general election. In past timelines, Dianne Feinstein had won this seat, and was elected with Barbara Boxer running for the ‘junior’ seat. In this timeline, she didn’t contest my father, leaving that for a relatively obscure Democrat with a safe State Senate Seat. Instead she ran unopposed for the ‘junior’ seat while Barbara Boxer kept to her congressional district.

More importantly than the election-year shuffle of who was running for what, my parents had gone on national television and told the nation that they loved me, and my being gay did not matter.

Chapter 1	Chapter 2	Chapter 3 Chapter 3 April Fool	Chapter 4	Chapter 5	Chapter 6
Chapter 7	Chapter 8	Chapter 9	Chapter 10	Chapter 11	Chapter 12
Chapter 13	Chapter 14	Chapter 15	Chapter 16	Chapter 17