CHAPTER 26
Bradford
The hot summer sun beats down on us as the Kingswood careens south along the highway. We’re fairly close to the ocean now; I can smell it in the air. Every kilometre we cover brings my anticipation up a notch.
It was Dominic who really came through with the goods in the end. Summer had all the ideas, of course, but I think the rest of us were pretty pleased with them. Dominic had jumped to it, organising a secluded beach venue on the south coast. He also booked out a whole motel in the nearby town, and teed up a shuttle bus for family and friends too drunk on champagne to drive back after the reception.
Summer and I had taken care of the alcohol and food, including all the barbecued stuff for the meat eaters. She’d also organised the celebrant, the decorations and outfits for all six of us.
I’ve been craning my head, staring out the window trying to see if there’s a glimpse of ocean yet. It took six months, but I eventually regained the sight I lost last winter. Thankfully, I made it through the rejection episode without needing a new corneal graft. With close to ten percent vision now, the tunnel in my better eye is able to see some detail again. I’m able to walk faster with Brendan, focus properly on my massive computer screen, and make out some of the faces when I watch movies on my big TV. I’m relying less on feeling around for things, but you know what? I’ve regained a skill that I didn’t know I’d lost. Being forced to depend on tactile recognition for the first time in six years has come in so handy.
I’m also excited about the coming year. Earlier in January, my opera coach talked me into replacing the tenor soloist for a huge production of Beethoven’s Missa Solemnis at Easter. I still have a good couple of months up my sleeve to rehearse, but every day my voice gets closer and closer to how it used to be a few years ago.
As for Jarrod—well, his court case hasn’t come up yet. Who knows when that will happen, but the police LGBT liaison officer has been diligent with keeping me up to date. I have zero interest in spouting tired clichés about forgiveness and understanding. Jarrod tried to destroy me and he very nearly succeeded. If that was all he’d done, then I’m sure I could find it in my heart to show him some compassion. But he lost me entirely when he hurt Brendan. No, I do not wish him all the best. I hope he’s miserable, I hope they throw the book at him, and I hope I never, ever have to speak to him again.
These days, I focus on my family. On the beautiful fiancé who’s driving right now, smiling over at me from time to time. On my best friend in the back, the furry fellow who made a full recovery and has been taking me on long power walks again for months. On the wonderful blended bunch of relatives who have come together more than once to date—for birthdays, for Christmas and now for this wedding. Our wedding.
***
I can’t believe how nervous I feel as we pull up into the car park at the beach. I’m glad we’ve been really informal about this. The six of us—plus Brendan—pick our way down the path to where everyone is waiting on the sand. All of us five men are dressed in Hawaiian-inspired shirts that match the flowing fabric of Summer’s dress. Summer’s long dark hair is cascading down in her usual hippie style, though she has a stunning array of tropical flowers worked into it. And all of us guys’ arses are snuggled into—you guessed it—slutty little shorts. Of course, that part was my idea.
As the beach comes into view, I gasp audibly. I’ve been running around the last four months helping prepare all of this, but I haven’t actually put everything together in my mind. This is all real. This is actually happening. Who would have thought that just a year ago—and on this very day—a man would walk into my life and turn it upside down so profoundly that we’d be getting married ?
People are scattered everywhere, drinks in hand. From the guest ratio, a small slice of the pie seems to belong to Summer, me, Nathan, Ryan and Dominic. But Bruno? I swear, the entire crowd from his and Gabriela’s fiftieth must be here. As they see us approach, the party music that’s been playing in the background dies down and Abba’s I Do, I Do, I Do, I Do, I Do starts up. I’m trying desperately to stifle a snigger as Summer turns and smirks at me. God, the amount of times we must have watched Muriel’s Wedding together all those years ago.
My heart is thundering as Summer, Nathan, Ryan, Dominic, Bruno, Brendan and me walk barefoot through the gathered crowd towards the celebrant. The late summer sun is behind us to the side, its rays still high enough in the sky to bathe our gathering in a bright warm glow. I’m barely able to concentrate as, one by one, we recite the brief vows we’ve all rehearsed. All I can do is gaze at the man I love and try not to cry. When it’s our turn to kiss, we cling to each other, our heads buried tightly together. The connection between our hearts is electric; the utter devotion that unites us flows from chest to chest. Slowly, Bruno moves back and gazes at me. Tears begin to spill down his cheeks. “Blue,” he whispers. “Your eyes are blue. The storm has passed.”
As the crowd begins to disperse towards the long tables laden with food, Summer takes Brendan over to the relatives she’s organised to entertain him. After all, Brendan deserves the night off to party too. From my vantage point at the front, I scan from right to left, taking in the sea of guests. In the background, I spot a man standing there by himself. I’m drawn to him for some reason. As I’m trying to work out why, he turns and starts to make his way off from the party. I barge through the crowd, giving automatic apologies, stumbling over the sand till I reach the long pathway that leads to the car park. It’s dark here. Trees are everywhere, blocking the residual light which is fast dipping below the horizon. This man has had a big head start, but I can see him not too far in front of me, slowly walking up the hill. “Dad!” I blurt. I don’t know why, but it has to be. The man turns around as I stumble closer. He’s old. Time may have ravaged him physically, but it’s unmistakable. “Jesus, Dad. How…”
“Summer tracked me down and invited me.” The sound of his voice sends my mind hurtling back decades.
Now that I’ve found him, I’m standing here dumbstruck. How do you talk to someone who checked out of your childhood—who disappeared during all those years when you desperately needed them? “What did I do wrong, Dad?” The words slip out automatically, a natural progression of the thoughts that are crashing around in my skull. “I loved you so much.” The searing hurt I feel right now has me all but falling to my knees. It’s a shock. Wasn’t I over this decades ago?
“I have no excuse, Bradford. I made a lot of mistakes.”
I hate that word. “No, Dad. ‘Mistake’ makes it sound like an accident. You chose to abandon me. I was a scared kid and all I wanted was my dad back. I would have done anything to hear from you. Every day I’d hold onto whatever shred of hope I had left, but eventually it died.” I'm breathing hard now. “Twenty-one, Dad. I was twenty-one before you ever made any effort to contact me. Is it any wonder I’d given up by then?”
Dad isn’t looking away. He’s gazing right into my eyes, nodding in recognition during every stage of my tirade. “It’s my biggest regret and I’ve carried it with me every day these last forty years. I may have divorced your mother, but I’ll never forgive myself for turning my back on you.”
I’m doing my best to calm down. Deep breaths, in and out. I’ve thrown my toys out of the pram for now and it’s time for me to keep my voice even. “I'm gonna ask you one question, Dad. And I want an honest answer. You think you can do that?”
He nods slowly, his lips drawing into a line. Deep in his eyes I can see a faint flicker of hope.
“Why did you come here today?”
He doesn’t even pause to think. “Bradford, I’m seventy-nine. I won’t be around much longer. I know the odds here are impossible, but I have to at least try.”
My brain is in so much turmoil, I don’t even know how to respond. We need to put a pin in this discussion. The pent-up emotion inside me works its way out into a long, turbulent sigh. “Don’t go, Dad. Come back to the wedding. Please.”
Dad smiles. He looks tired. “Thanks, but I’ve intruded enough for one day. Although—” he stops short, swallowing visibly. “I’m not going back home straight away. I’ll be in Sydney for a couple of weeks, if you feel like… I don’t know. Talking more. Summer has my number.”
I gaze at his features for a few seconds. Gone is the powerful father I remember—or at least, who I built him up to be. In his place is a weak, elderly man. His vulnerability is palpable, and I could crush his spirit in my bare hand. But the truth is, I don’t want to. Cruelty is not in my nature. Right now, I realise he’s given me the offer I’ve always craved. I’m not fooling myself. I don’t know if we can ever repair the damage that was done. But maybe a little patch-up here and there won’t hurt. I do my best to generate a smile. “Sure. OK, Dad. I’ll be in touch.”
There’s visible relief in his eyes as he turns and begins to walk off. After a few steps, he looks back for a moment. “Congratulations, Bradford. It was a beautiful ceremony.” Capping off with a slight nod, he continues on his way. I stand there and stare at his careful gait, watching as his body becomes darker and darker and he disappears into the night.
“You gave him the chance that he never gave you.” The warm tones of Mum’s voice waft towards me as she moves into view from my right. She comes to stand directly in front of me, making sure she’s completely within my field of vision. “I’ve always been so proud of you, Bradford, but never more than I am today.” Her gentle smile betrays the sense of melancholy reflected in her glistening eyes. She pauses for a moment, and I watch as she studies every part of my face. “That was the last piece of the puzzle, sweetheart. You don’t need me anymore.”
The pain of reality is swift and severe. It reaches deep inside my chest and grabs so hard I feel like I might faint. “You can’t do this, Mum. Please.” My voice wavers and cracks. I’m scrambling to stop myself sobbing, but I’ve already lost the battle. “I know it’s selfish. I know this wasn’t supposed to last. But I can’t lose you again.”
“Sweetheart, leaving you is the hardest thing I’ll ever have to do.” Mum’s trying her utmost to sound strong, but through the veil of my tears I see it’s not working. As she begins to weep openly, her hand reaches out towards my chest. Energy hums louder and louder all around us. At long last, I feel her make contact as her palm presses over my heart. A colossal wave of warmth rushes straight through my body, filling every inch of it with urgent intensity. “I’ll be in here forever, Bradford. You have to believe that.”
My sobs are tearing into me now. “Please, not yet. Just a bit longer. Please !” I wipe like mad at my useless eyes, desperately hoping to get one last look at her, but when I open them again, she’s nowhere to be seen. That smile, that voice, that loving presence is gone for good.
I'm shaking so violently that I’m starting to keel over, but a warm hand suddenly grips my shoulder. “Baby, what’s wrong?” Bruno pulls me around, gathering me against him. “Who was that man you ran after?”
“It was my dad.”
Bruno doesn’t ask any more questions. He just stays here, holding me tight, shouldering my full body weight till he’s sure I’m OK.
***
The party moves in full swing when I return. The food is amazing, the dancing is shambolic and wild, and the entire place hums with an exuberance that sends my spirits soaring once again. After the cake has been cut by all six of us, Bruno approaches me carrying two plates loaded with huge slices and whipped cream. “You wanna take a bit of a stroll along the beach?”
We wander down towards the shore, then head south along the edge of the water. The gentle waves lap at our feet as the glow of the wedding behind us gives way to the moonlight ahead. The blazing hot day has nicely segued into a balmy night, which wraps its fingers around us in a comforting warmth.
Bruno stops, taking our plates and putting them down out of harm’s way. Coming back to me, he slowly unbuttons my shirt. “This is what’s gonna make tonight perfect for me,” he says.
“You reckon they’ll catch us?” I crane my head around, trying to see how far from the party we are.
“Nah,” he says, pulling down my shorts and underwear before removing his own. Taking my hand, he leads me out into the water. “One year, Bradford. One year, and look where we are.”
Once we’re in deep enough, he draws me against him. I wrap my legs around his waist, my arms around his shoulders. As we hold each other, bobbing in the water, down below his cock flexes against my arse crack. My own cock is raging as my knob and PA rub against his belly, but it seems like this is enough for us right now. Off in the distance, the wedding party is going as strong as ever. I can hear the strains of Italian music now. “Your family must have taken the DJ reins,” I chuckle.
“Well, it was gonna happen sooner or later.” Bruno shunts his dick firmly back and forth over my arsehole, causing my cock to grind against him repeatedly. He smiles at my instant moan. “I really need to fuck you now,” he growls.
“Um, you might have trained my arse to take your dick super fast, but I still don’t think it’s gonna happen without lube.”
He considers this for a moment. “We need to get back to shore.” His tone is urgent, and I follow him closely, wading as fast as I can. I watch his burly arse in the moonlight as he steps out, rubbing my penis slowly at the sight of him bending over to get the wedding cake. He lingers there a moment for my benefit, his arse cheeks spread, his balls hanging low. It may be dark, but I know and love every part of this man so comprehensively that the picture I’m making out couldn’t be more vivid. Returning to me, he takes me in his arms and I feel his hand slide straight into the cleft of my arse. Fingers probe at my hole, working their way directly through my tight ring. “Oh God,” I groan. “Is that the whipped cream?”
“Got it in one.” Bruno gives a lascivious laugh as his hand vacates my arse, then comes round to the front to coat my cock with a few firm strokes. Guiding me down to the sand, he turns me on my side and cuddles in behind me. Heaven hits hard as his penis slides straight into my arse. The stretch is so divine that my hand is on my dick straight away, rubbing in a fast frenzy. His arm reaches around my chest and his fingers start to caress my nipple. I can barely fathom how overwhelmed I am right now.
“Am I allowed to pound this beautiful cunt as hard as I want?” Bruno pants in my ear.
“Not if you’d like me to last.” I’m masturbating with full force. I know I should be trying to resist it. I can’t come yet. Bruno needs to get there first. I need him to.
“Red rag to a bull,” he growls, and immediately begins slamming into me. “Fuck lasting for ages. We have a lifetime ahead of us, baby. I need to breed you so fucking badly right now.”
The pure lust in his voice sends the tension in my erectile muscles sky-high. I hook my right leg behind his thigh, grinding my arse into his crotch to give him the best angle possible. As his warm breath strafes my neck, his lips kiss behind my ears, and his finger teases the hardened nubs on my pecs, I feel myself beginning to float. My pleasure is so extreme it’s almost unearthly. I’m a balloon about to burst, a geyser about to shoot skyward. The glorious ache in my taint is so deliciously intense I think I might even be wailing. This man—this man who loves me more than anyone else in the world—he can make me feel like this . And I get him for the rest of my life. A huge, ecstatic sob chokes me as I finally detonate. The firm strokes I’ve been giving my cock speed up frantically, blasting every missile right across the sand in front of me. With each ejection, my arse tightens hard around Bruno’s dick, causing his moans to double in pace.
“I love you so fucking much,” he gasps, clutching me even harder to his chest while his body seizes up. His hips convulse against my arse, and I feel the strong peristaltic throb of his dick delivering its promise deep inside me. I am his, he is mine, we are each other’s. Wholly, entirely, eternally.
I never knew I was going somewhere. But in the warmth and safety of my husband’s arms, I marvel at the unbridled joy emanating from the crowd over yonder, and I know I’ve arrived. I’ve reached the end of the race, broken through the tape and there’s nothing but green grass as far as the eye can see.
Bruno relaxes into my body while familiar musical strains sail out from the wedding party. “Listen, Blinky ,” he whispers. Once the chorus begins, I hear the chant of the crowd all singing along. In perfect time, Bruno’s gentle words resonate in my ear. “ Sarà perché ti amo .”
THE END