Chapter Four

Monday then arrived, and with its arrival came the return of Mac's anxieties. He stood in front of the mirror that early afternoon, fiddling with the buttons on his shirt and vacillating from what he was going to wear. Bloo sat on the bed, watching as his partner bustled around their bedroom like a chicken with its head cut off.

"Mac, give it a rest. I thought you said that you didn't really care."

"I don't," Mac retorted. "But I care enough so that I don't look like a slob and she doesn't start complaining about how I don't take good enough care of myself and yadda yadda yadda—"

"—Mac, baby, relax." Bloo jumped up and gave his waist a squeeze. "I mean, seriously? You should actually try to look like you don't take care of herself, so then she's forced to accept you as you are."

"Thanks, Bloo." Mac mumbled as Bloo gave him a kiss on the neck.

"No problem. Hey, you ready to go? We have to walk down to the café, right?"

"Yeah." Mac sighed. "Let's go."

They walked out of their room and down the stairs, and as they passed by Wilt, Mac told him what had to be done. Then they crossed the porch, down the steps, and out of the yard onto the sidewalk. Continuing to walk along, Bloo reached out for Mac's hand and grabbed it.

"Hey." He raised his eyelids at Mac, cockily grinning at him.

"Hey what?" Mac looked over at him, confused.

"We're holding hands in public. Your mom is going to get a kick out of that."

Mac laughed, hiding his face against Bloo's side. He blushed and smiled.

"We're going to a little coffee place. On the corner, a ways from Junior's school."

"Speaking of which, where is our kid today?"

"I think he told me that he was heading over to Ronny's."

"Not Willow?"

"No…" Mac trailed off, his brow knitting in confusion. "Come to think of it that's strange. He usually always is at her place."

"Maybe Caren's new boyfriend doesn't like him," Bloo mumbled to him.

"Oh. You know what, she really ought to stop dating douchebags."

"Says you."

Mac gave Bloo a shove and the two laughed hysterically. They tripped their way across the crosswalk and arrived at the store. Bloo opened the door and walked in, then shut and held it, preventing Mac from entering.

"Bloo!" Mac yelled out, laughing as he grabbed the door and wrenched it open. "What are you, twelve?"

"Well I don't know, baby, shouldn't you know that better than me?"

The two smiled at each other and then examined the room. Mac searched for the small shaved head in the crowd and then saw the back of his mother, off to the right of the shop. She sat by a window with an oversized tea cup of coffee, across from a strange, shadowy man.

Mac gulped, and then all at once, remembered what he was here for. Warily he approached the table, keeping his head lowered so as to avoid direct confrontation with his father. His mother turned around and smiled at him, but as soon as she saw that Bloo was following, she frowned. Disappointment creased her face.

"Why is he here?" she asked in a dry, un-amused tone.

Bloo sneered at her as he sat down. Mac gently placed a hand on Bloo's shoulder to let him know it was alright. He turned his head and calmly spoke to his mother, "Deal with it. He's my partner."

"Partner," she mumbled, rubbing her coffee cup between her hands.

The craggy man with the messy face arched his eyebrows. Mac glanced over and then quickly averted his eyes. He felt like he was going to be burned by his father's gaze, it seemed so intense. Bloo was flipping through the menu and Mac glanced down at his, fidgeting around. The table was awkwardly silent. When Mac looked over at his father again, he noticed that he was wearing an old, dusty looking suit: the same suit that he had probably worn in court that day. Mac was so little, he could barely remember looking over the pews and staring at his father's guilty face at the witness stand.

"Okay, seriously?" Mac asked, raising his head. "So, what did you need again?"

"You remember very well, Mac," his mother responded. "Your father and I want to form a relationship of you."

Mac set down his menu. His mouth was in a firm, concrete line. "I think that you like the idea of that, but…" his eyes narrowed. "You won't even accept the most basic aspects of my life. That I live and work at Foster's. That I'm gay and a fanta-sexual."

His mother rolled her eyes but Mac's dad remained silent. Mac sighed heavily.

"Look, given the circumstances of my life, I really can't involve either of you."

"Oh, really?" his mother replied bitterly. "And just what circumstances do you have that prevent you from family?"

Mac flushed, his son's face flashing through his head. He shook his head, and swallowed. He had to think very carefully about how to say this.

"I… I have a son."

His parents stared at him with stark, wide eyes. His mother seemed angrier now.

"Oh I know what you're talking about," she snapped.

"What is he talking about?" his father grumbled, looking over at her.

"That blue thing," she responded. "I saw him."

"You… you saw him?"

"Walking across the front yard with a basketball and a girl the day that I was there—that was him, wasn't it? Your 'son?'" she said, putting air quotations around the last word.

She crossed her arms and scoffed, rolling her eyes. "He's an imaginary friend."

"Er… I suppose. His father is too."

"I had no idea that you would go so far as to 'imagine' a child of yours and Bloo's."

Mac trembled with anger. "I did not—!"

But just as he was about to continue with his protest, Bloo placed a hand on his shoulder as if to say, No. Don't tell her. Just let it go.

Mac understood Bloo. He cleared his throat and addressed his mother.

"My son is very well taken care of. It doesn't matter how he got here. It matters who is in his life." Mac cast his father a wary look. "And I only want to be good influences."

"'Cause I'm bad enough as it is," Bloo declared, leaning back in his seat and grinning triumphantly.

"Mac, you're being ridiculous," his mother urged. "You're writing us off. But yet you bothered to show up."

"You wrote me off, Mot—" he stopped and corrected himself, "—Margaret, when you told me to get the hell out of your house and never come back. And I did. So why the hell did you put yourself in mine?"

Margaret choked up and she gazed at her son with a stare of pure agony. Her grey eyes became wet. She lowered her head and stared in defeat at her lap. Mac's father made no move to comfort her: they were divorced, so he must not have felt like he had to. The waitress came by and took their orders, but only Bloo and Mac's father requested for sandwiches and the soup special. Mac and Margaret both insisted that they were not hungry. Mac felt like he had been punched in the stomach, as he sat there, the memories flashing back through his mind, and as he relived all of it. How could he eat?

When the waitress left, Margaret pulled herself together again and spoke to her son.

"Because I'm dying, Mac. And I regret some of the things I did—"

"—You should regret all of it. How dare you call yourself my mother, when you were never around? When you told me to give up on my best friend, and then expect me to fend for myself? When you slammed that door in my face?"

Mac's voice rattled and cracked as astounding tears entered his voice. Bloo cast a quick look of concern and glared at Margaret as if to reprimand her. Margaret, her body stiff and sharp like a pencil, marched off to the bathroom. It had been the end of round one, apparently. Mac's father sipped from his Coke, and he looked away from the scene as if to give his son some privacy.

Mac snatched napkins off of the table and pressed them to his eyes. Then his father, who had been sitting ever so patiently, now spoke to him.

"You know, I bet it was hard raising you two boys," he said as he began to fiddle with the teensy pepper packets. "You were just a tot, so you probably don't remember me all too much, Mac."

"I don't know you at all," Mac sighed, shaking his hea.

"And I'd like to know you. My name's Gary," he replied, offering his hand to his son.

Curious, Mac shook his father's hand. He retracted his own and set it in his lap.

"Seems like you're the one I can get to know."

Mac rolled his eyes, scoffed and laughed in disbelief.

"Oh my God. That's the problem with you and my mother. You think that since your first son turned out to be for shit, you can just fall back on me." He smacked his hand on the table and a sharp glint twitched in his eyes as he looked at his father. "And the two of you have no idea how fucked up things got for me, nor do you care."

Gary frowned. "If I didn't care, why am I here, Mac?"

Mac faltered, his mouth open. He found he could not think of a reason.

"Look. I'm pretty different from your mother. Whatever's going on in your sex life, what the hell do I care?" he exhaled as he pushed back from the table, rocking on the chair. "Fuck. I haven't seen you since you were three and your mom is sitting there bitchin' about how you live your life. How I lived mine." He shook his head.

"Why did you do it, Da… Gary." Mac once again had to correct himself.

"I was a drug addict," he replied, shrugging. "And it made us good money, till that kid I was selling to…" he shook his head again. "Nah, it ain't important."

Mac's mother then returned, purse in hand. She turned to Mac as she sat down.

"Did you order?" she asked disdainfully, with a sniff.

"Nah. Waitress hasn't come back. Service here sucks," Gary answered for him.

Mac surveyed his parents. Two stark contrasts to each other: burnout and business. Ragged and spruced. Regretful and angry. How had these two ever met and fallen in love? Gotten married? What could have possessed his mother?

"Mac. Let me just say this. Whatever's been in your past, let's push it aside and try to get along. You don't have to think of me as your mother, but at least I don't have to die without… unsolved business."

Business. Always business. Mac thought as he quickly checked his watch. 2:30. Junior's school usually got out around this time, but occasionally, Junior would be given detention for blowing spit wads in class or spending extra time outside during recess.

But apparently nothing was going to grace his wishes today, because he saw his son, accompanied by Ronnie, in the window. Their faces pressed up against the glass and they made faces, laughing and joking. Mac flushed and buried his face in his hands. He groaned.

Junior and Ronnie headed inside the café and darted over to the table in a flash. Margaret and Gary looked rather alarmed when the little blue friend (who unbeknownst to them was their actual blood grandchild) pulled up a chair and sat alongside his father.

"So, you don't have detention today?" Mac asked in a grumble, propping his chin up against his hand.

"I skipped it."

Mac rolled his eyes.

"Hey! Come on, I'm in a fight with one of my best friends. I think that gives me a license to act out."

"It gives you a license to get grounded," Mac said in response, warningly glaring at his son.

Ronnie looked confused. "Wait a minute, Junior. We're fighting?"

"No, you dope! With Willow," Junior responded, rolling his eyes.

Junior then turned to his dads and gave each of them a grin. "Dads, what's up?"

Mac tousled his son's hair and smiled. That wonderful smile of his son's always got him in a better mood.

"Da-ad!" Junior then whined and Mac and Bloo both laughed.

"What are you and Ronnie up to?"

"We were going to head back to the house to work on that dumb speech for English class."

"You're making progress on it?"

"Eh.." Junior laid his hand horizontally and waved it from side to side. "Kind of."

"Well, that's a huge part of your grade. Please do well on it."

"Dad! Jeez, of course I will."

Junior then turned his attention to Margaret and Gary, who had sat there silently, astounded and blinking. Mac noticed his parents' faces and felt his blood run cold. Could they see the resemblance of him in his son? It wasn't too hard to see. And Junior, would he realize who they were? As far as Mac knew, Junior had no idea that these were his grandparents.

"Lady, are you a tax collector?" Junior asked Margaret, gesturing to her professional attire with a nod of his head.

"No," she answered crisply, trying her best to keep smiling. "No, I'm a financial consultant at a law firm."

"Ooh. Boring job," Junior said with a chuckle, relaxing his body.

"Junior, don't be rude." Mac found he was embarrassed by his son's behavior, even though he kept on telling himself he didn't care what his parents thought.

"Who are you?"

"I'm your creator's mother."

Oh no. Mac paled as he watched the horrendous scene fold out before him. Confused, Junior shook his head and stared back at the woman.

"Um… excuse me? I'm his son."

"Well, yes, of course you are. He imagined you."

"Uh, lady, you don't know the whole—"

Mac clapped a hand over Junior's mouth and laughed nervously. Junior glared at his dad and mumbled aggressively into his father's palm but Mac begged him with his eyes. Junior, still perplexed by the situation, cast a glance at Ronnie, who was dazzlingly entertained by the whole spectacle. But Ronnie too, had no idea what was going on, and he shrugged as well.

"My son. Yes. My son."

"Yeah, he really is," Ronny then blurted out. "There's pictures and everything."

Bloo and Mac both hung their heads as they equally thought, Oh shit.

Margaret frowned. "Pictures of what?" she looked towards Mac.

"When…" Ronnie trailed off. "Um. Whoops."

Mac, his face red, stood up. He placed an arm around both boys and drew them upwards out of their seats.

"Look, I gotta go home. These little kids—" Mac squeezed their shoulders tensely, "—need someone to watch over them at the house. And without Frankie there, my work is piling up for me."

Mac started to steer the boys towards the door. Bloo remained where he was seated.

"Wait! Mac," his mother cried out in frustration.

She stood up and looked impatiently out towards her son, who kept moving towards the door.

"Mac, I didn't get my sandwich yet!"

"Bloo, we got to go," Mac said through gritted teeth. He glanced up at his mother. "Margaret, you know where to find me. Sorry about this. Gimme a call."

They then all exited onto the street. Junior gazed at his dad in disbelief.

"Dad, what the hell is your problem?"

"Language," Mac reprimanded, holding up a finger. "And hey, what did I say about telling people that I was pregnant with you?"

"That it'll alert the media?"

"Exactly. Don't alert the media." Mac wiped a hand across his forehead. "It's bad enough as it is that Willow and Ronnie know."

"Hey!" Ronnie cried out in protest, hurt. "I'm a good secret keeper!"

"Says the kid who said, 'There's photos,'" Bloo chimed in, laughing as he clapped Ronnie on the back.

Mac gazed at his partner with steely eyes as Bloo hooted and keeled over in laughter.

"It's not funny, Bloo!"

They all started walking down the sidewalk back towards Foster's. Mac shoved his hands in his pockets and found that his nerves were nowhere even close to calming down. Junior glanced up at his dad.

"Dad. Who was that woman?"

They crossed the street together and Mac remained silent. He shook his head.

"It's not important."

"She said that she was your mother," Junior pressed, almost urgent. "Dad, was that Grandma?"

"She is not your grandmother!" Mac replied heatedly. "Don't call her that!"

Bloo placed an arm around Mac's waist. In an intense silence, the four of them walked back to Foster's and headed inside. Junior and Ronnie sprinted off to do whatever it was they wanted to do. Mac retreated to the parlor with the room full of clocks. He flopped down on the white sofa in exhaustion.

"Great. So now he knows," Mac said to Bloo.

"He finds out things. He's good at being nosy." Bloo came and sat down beside Mac. "Don't worry about it. He's not going to do anything."

Mac looked up at Bloo with sad eyes. Bloo narrowed his eyes. Mac swallowed, shaking his head. He looked so small, and scared and stressed.

"Bloo. What the hell am I going to do?" he asked hoarsely. "I don't want her back, but on the other hand I'm denying our son a chance to get to know his grandparents. To know where he came from."

He sat upright. Bloo shrugged his shoulders.

"Is it really that important?"

Mac sighed heavily and placed a hand over his mouth. He looked at Bloo. "Do you remember, when he was in the third grade, and he had to make a family tree project?"

"Yeah."

"And he came home and it only had a bunch of flowers filled out, you and me, and Frankie and Wilt and Ed, and then when he turned it in… the teacher gave him a bad grade because she said that those people weren't related to us at all?"

"Yeah. I remember that bitch."

"But he was so sad that day Bloo. He came home and just cried and cried."

"What's your point?"

"I… I don't know." Mac exhaled. "I just think… maybe it'd be right, for him to know them."

"Well…" Bloo leaned back. "You know, if she really wants to be involved in your life, maybe you should… invite her over to Foster's."

"Here?" Mac cried out.

"Yeah. Maybe tonight, for dinner or something."

"Oh…" Mac placed his knuckles against his mouth.

Bloo arched a brow at him. "Hey. You did promise her lunch and ducked out on it, Mommy-Man."

"Don't call me that." Mac playfully slugged Bloo in the shoulder.

Bloo responded by kissing Mac forcefully. Mac smiled and kissed him back, sweetly.

"Okay, okay. I think that's an alright idea. I'll invite her over tonight for dinner."

"And after…" Bloo smiled smugly.

Mac stood up, laughed, and dialed his mother's cell phone number. After a brief conversation on the phone, Mac arranged to have her and Gary over for dinner tonight. When he hung up, he felt strangely relieved. He felt like inviting her to Foster's was a way of getting everything out in the open.

"Frankie would roll if she knew I was doing this."

"Frankie would roll at a few things," Bloo said. "Like, we're having another baby."

"Maybe," Mac corrected him, crossing his arms. "Bloo, it's not like it's a guarantee."

"Did you talk to your doctor?"

"Dr. Crawson? Yeah." Mac sat back down on the couch beside him. "She said that any regular pregnancy test should do. That I should just take the test when I show symptoms."

"What symptoms? Mac, did you start having a period?"

Mac swatted him with a chuckle. "No, stupid! If I started gaining weight or feeling really groggy, then I should…"

Mac trailed off and abruptly stopped. Uh oh.

"Mac? What's wrong?"

"Well… I mean, I've been feeling pretty groggy lately. It could have just been because of Frankie leaving, though, but…"

Bloo was beaming. "Ha! It's already happened?"

"Oh probably not. I mean, come on. Friday was the first time we…"

"Something could have broken."

"Bloo, if you say that a condom broke and didn't tell me about it, I am going to punch you in the face."

"Well I wouldn't have known about it!" Bloo held up his hands innocently. "I'm just spit-balling here, same as you."

"Ugh." Mac ran a hand through his hair and waved them around. "But I didn't really feel groggy when I was pregnant with Junior. The first thing I noticed was that I was eating and drinking stuff constantly."

"Maybe it's just different because you're older. It's taking more of a toll on you or something."

Mac squeezed his body slightly. "The other thing I noticed was that I was… really moody, like I guess I am now. But then again, I had broken up with you at that time."

"Mac. Let's face it. You're pregnant."

"I'm not pregnant until I take the test," Mac protested. "But I'm not going to deal with that tonight. I'm just not going to."

He said this so easily but Bloo knew that it would be at the back of his mind all night. Mac climbed to his feet and brushed off his hands as if to clap off dust.

"I've got a dinner to make."