MARRIAGE
CONTINUED
“God I hope I’m not pregnant again,” Meredith muttered as she watched Charlie getting into the car. He waved at her eagerly and reversed his car down the driveway.
“Are you serious?” Layla muttered, lifting her eyes from the ream of papers she was editing.
“I could be,” Meredith admitted. “And Charlie’s so damn cute.”
“Charlie is cute,” Layla agreed, “but not as cute as the ability to support your family. Or keep your uterus from falling out.”
Dena looked at Layla. For all of Charlie’s boyish good looks, and the happiness he and Meredith experienced, Charlie was nearly twenty years older than Meredith and, at one time, had been the lover of Meredith’s stepmother. Dena and Layla remembered this vividly, and whenever they were in the presence of Mrs. and Mr. Palmer they always looked at each other as if daring the other to utter that truth.
“I can’t help it,” Meredith said, loftily, while she scribbled, “pregnancy test” on her list of things to get. “I’m just a good Catholic girl.”
“Actually you’re a semi slut who for some reason hasn’t learned to use birth control despite your vast education and the simplicity of taking a pill,” Dena said.
“Harsh.”
“You are the only woman who’s had a baby by every man she’s been with,” Layla noted.
“Et tu, Layla?”
Layla shrugged. “I’m just saying.”
“I didn’t have Kip Danley’s baby,” Meredith pointed out. Then she said, “Somehow that sounds like a very shallow retort.”
“It sort of is,” her sister said.
“Now look,” Dena began in the tone that meant she was shifting to something very important, “Maggie and Ed are coming to dinner—my stepdaughter and your stepson. And from now on we have to make a concerted effort to really include them as family. We ARE a family.”
“I always include them as family,” Meredith said.
Dena eyed her sister, and then said, “Firstly, you never liked Maggie—”
“Well, it was for your sake.”
“Well, don’t make it for my sake anymore. Just… She’s family. We’re going to be a family.”
Meredith shrugged, and Layla said, “I’m glad I’m not in this.”
“Of course you’re in it,” Meredith said. “Ed’s mother is Meg Callan and Meg Callan is Dylan’s aunt, and you’re Dylan’s cousin, so that makes you—”
“Not in it,” Layla repeated with finality.
“However,” she got up, “it does make me late for going to pick up some school clothes. You ladies seem to have forgotten Dylan has a brother now, which means I have a new cousin, and I had agreed to take him shopping.”
“He’s not in school.”
“Not yet, and Tom has decided to send him to Saint Barbara’s, so… time to get some blazers.”
“Milo offered his old clothes.”
“Dena, my cousin is not going to wear Milo’s cast off pants and blazers.”
“He could probably wear Dylan’s though.”
Layla had not gone into the science fiction part of Thackeray actually being Dylan’s twin put on time delay, so she just said, “You’re probably right. And then that’s more money for real clothes. I don’t think Tom was thinking about real clothes. I’m going to make that happen.”
Layla gathered up the reams of paper she was working with and stuffed them, artlessly, into a manila folder, which she shoved into the messenger bag she carried in lieu of a purse.
“Send the little monster around here to meet his cousins,” Meredith said as Layla swung the bag over her shoulder.
Then, promising to do so, Layla kissed her friends, and headed out the door.
“Don’t wander off because I’m not good at finding people,” Layla said. “I’ll be out of the lady’s room in a moment.
“Mom wants to know everything about you,” Liam said, solemnly, once Layla was in the restroom. He stooped to take a sip of water and then the green eyed boy told Thackeray, “She’s not going to ask. She won’t be nosey about it. You’ll almost think she couldn’t care less if you keep your secrets or not.
“But it’s a ruse. She wants to know everything. And eventually she’ll figure it out.”
“Well it sounds terrible when you put it that way,” Thackeray said.
“It isn’t,” Liam said. “It’s just—” the boy stopped. “It really does sound terrible, but I didn’t mean it to.”
Thackeray shrugged, his dark curly hair falling into his face.
“What was your life like before?” Liam asked.
“It kind of sucked,” Thackeray said.
Liam waited for him to elaborate.
“I was just this kid with no parents, going from place to place. Sometimes I was with a family. Sometimes I was in an orphanage. And then one day Eileen showed up. She said who she was, and that she was going to get me out. But they didn’t let me out easy, just like that. It took a while. It took a judge.”
“How long did you know your mother?”
“For about two years. On again. Off again. And she wasn’t telling anyone she was sick. That wasn’t until it was almost all over. She took me with her. I didn’t… I know this sounds terrible, but I didn’t really love her. Not the way I should have. I was glad I was getting out. But she had put me in, right? And then almost as soon as she got me, she told me she was about to die. It was like she was hanging on for that. That’s when she told me about Dylan and everything. Well, about some things.”
“What about your Dad?”
“Tom or Fenn?”
“I meant Tom.”
“He hugs me every time he sees me. He just looks so happy that I’m here. I guess he is. I mean, I’m happy to be with him. He’s my dad. We play piano and sing a lot. I’m staying there right now.”
The bathroom door opened and Layla looked at Liam, and then at Thackeray.
“Has Liam been interrogating you?” Layla asked Thackeray. “He’s nosey like that.”
“Actually, he said you were nosey like that.”
And then Thackeray covered his mouth.
Liam went red through his olive skin, and Layla raised an eyebrow.
“How about we just shop?” she said.
When Layla brought Thackeray back to Tom’s house, the boy saw a long tall man, handsome, with graying temples, sitting at the piano. He looked up with an eager smile and Thackeray instantly liked him.
“You must be Thackeray.”
“I am.”
Layla thumped the boy on the shoulder and pushed him forward as she said, “This is Bryant Babcock. He’s friends with your father. Both of them, actually.”
“I hear you play the piano,” Bryant said.
“A little.”
Bryant grinned. “I heard it was actually more than a little. Would you like to show me now or show me later?”
“It seems like not showing him at all isn’t an option,” Layla said.
“It certainly isn’t,” Bryant said. “I love to meet good musicians, and when they’re so close!”
Thackeray held out his fingers and cracked his knuckles. Bryant slid off of the piano bench and stood by it as the young man took his place.
“A little something,” Thackeray said.
“Where’s Chad?” Layla whispered before Thackeray began.
“With Tom, helping out in the kitchen.”
Layla nodded and headed for the kitchen as Thackeray began to play an etude.
Layla was not a classical kind of person. She knew Thackeray was good, but she appreciated Dylan’s jazz trumpet more. She’d spent her whole life with Tom’s organ music, but it wasn’t until Dylan had taught him stride piano and Tom had picked it up almost instantly that she really respected him. Tom and Dylan, side by side, bent over a piano, making that holy, sexy sound, their shoulders shaking, father and son and both of them, somehow, a little like her uncle Fenn.
“Layla!” Chad cried as she entered the kitchen. “Listen to that!”
“It’s Thackeray,” Tom said before Layla could.
“You can tell?”
“He’s my son, Layla. And I’m a musician.”
“Fair,” Layla nodded. “I just dropped Liam off at the college. He’s following Will around—”
“Dr. Will, you mean.”
“Yes,” Layla nodded. “I hope the two of them don’t blow the chemistry lab up. So,” she glanced around, “what’s happening here?”
“Bryant and Chad showed up with surprise news,” Tom told her. “Bryant will be directing the Rossford Symphony.”
“And the surprise is that Rossford has a symphony,” Layla murmured.
“Oh, com’on,” Chad chided her in the gayest manner she’d ever seen, “you know that Rossford has a symphony.”
She did not, but she also did not wish to argue this, and Tom went on to explain, “It’s actually the Rossford Wallington Miller Symphony, and I actually would love to be a part of it. But now Bryant is their new conductor.”
“Good for him!”
“Yes,” Chad and Tom agreed together.
They both went quiet. Like deer their ears turned to the door on the last notes of the etude.
When it was done, they both jumped out of the kitchen with the fervor of football fans. Layla followed them.
Bryant was standing there, his arms folded over his chest.
“Tom, what are you going to do with him?” Bryant demanded.
“Don’t do anything,” Chad murmured. “You’ll screw him up. He’s perfect.”
Thackeray looked at the three grown men, and Layla wanted to laugh.
“What?” Chad said to her.
“It’s like the three magi in the presence of the Christ Child. Or maybe Jesus in front of the temple teachers.”
“I was never into Jesus the way I should have been,” Chad admitted, “but I worship at the temple of good music, and Thackeray, you are a Messiah.”
Layla frowned.
“That sounds real clever, but I feel like you’re going to hell for saying shit like that.”
“Yup,” Layla told her uncle over the phone. “We’re at Tom’s, and Thackeray’s receiving worship and praise from the liturgy queens.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Chad demanded.
“Hold on,” Layla put the phone to her chest and purred, “‘I worship at the temple of good music.’ That’s what it’s supposed to mean.”
Then she put the phone to her ear and reported, “Laurel was here this morning. She stayed with Caroline. Now she’s off to visit Dylan. Yeah. Yeah. I will. Love you too. Goodbye.”
“Liturgy queens,” Chad murmured again.
“Oh, get over it.”
“LAUREL!”
“Should I have called first?” his cousin said, as she entered the apartment.
“Well, if you had,” Dylan moved about, picking up stray shirts and papers on the floor, “it would have been cleaner. I would have had something ready for you.”
“Well, as the British say, pish posh.” Laurel kissed her cousin on the cheek and went into the kitchen, “Hey boys. Lance, when did you get back?”
“Uh, hey Laurel?”
Lance had his glasses on and he blinked up at her looking a little startled. His hair was sticking up, and he was in jeans and a tee shirt. “You thirsty?”
“Whaddo you have?”
“Water and Water,” Elias said. “We haven’t really been shopping.”
“Well, then I guess I’ll take water.”
Lance and Elias both looked at the refrigerator and Elias said, “It doesn’t take three people, why don’t you go sit down.”
Laurel went to sit beside her cousin on the sofa.
“Where’s Moshe?”
“He’s visiting his parents. He figured you’d rather see me than him, and I figured I’d rather see you than them. What is going on? I’ve been out of the loop. And how come your apartment’s not as clean as usual?”
Dylan began opening the windows that lined the front of the living room and looked out onto Magnolia. A few moments later, Laurel could smell incense.
“Dad was here, and then Maia showed up and said she left Bennett—“
“Yes, that’s changed, hasn’t it?”
“You seen her?” Dylan said.
“I saw her last night.”
Dylan nodded.
“And then at the same time I got a message that Eileen was dying, and went to South Bend where I found out she had another son, Thackeray. I brought Thackeray back and he’s living with both my dads now. Then that’s when Maia and Ben showed up all married, and we came back here to pick Lance up from the station and….”
Lance came back into the living room. He was so tall! Laurel always forgot. He sat down beside her, all leggy, and put down her water saying, “And that’s the shape of it.”
“Yes,” Laurel said, breathlessly. She lifted the glass to her lips and took a great draught, “I imagine it is.”
Laurel had been there for about an hour, and Elias had gone to class while Lance was at the desk in the living room, his head bent over homework.
“I can’t help but notice,” Laurel whispered, “that there’s something fucked up about your house right now.”
“Hum?”
“My mother’s half a witch. I grew up sensing shit. And frankly, I’d have to be blind and stupid not to notice anything going on here.”
Dylan shrugged and then she said, “You wanna go on a walk?”
“Only if it’s to the beach.”
“Ahright. It’s a bit cool.”
“That’s the best weather. I’ll get my jacket.”
After Dylan and Laurel had gone for their walk, while Lance was still bent over the desk, his glasses pushed up, Elias said, “Go take a shower.”
After their first year together, Lance never asked why. He always just did. It took a while to make the water hot, and then Lance got in, murmuring in his tone deaf way half of some music he had heard on the radio. Lance was the least musical person Elias knew. He waited a while, and then he followed Lance into the bathroom where he took off his things and went into the water with him.
Lance blinked down.
“Hey, buddy,” he began.
Elias embraced him, feeling the muscles under the slick skin. Lance held him too as the water poured down. They cleaned each other and kissed and then Elias toweled him and, half dry, he led Lance to the bedroom. They shut the door and were in there a long while before Lance held Elias’s face in his large hands.
“Don’t make me say it,” he whispered to Elias. “Don’t make me beg you to do it. You know I hate using that word.”
Lance turned around and put his hands on the edge of the bed. Elias went stiff, gazing on the roundness of Lance’s ass, the promise of home that came with being pulled into the heat of Lance. It was a shock, almost frightening. But once in he couldn’t stop. They went fully onto the bed. Elias’s cock was engulfed in the deep heat of Lance, his stomach against the other boy’s back, his chest against his back. Elias began to love the rhythm they built, the vibration Lance sent through his body from the very inside of his. He loved the way their hands caught to each other, and he buried his face in the softness of Lance Bishop’s hair, drew his ear into his mouth, kissed his eyes, massaged the scalp beneath the hair, the planes of the face. When Elias came it was in a hot, gentle flood that made his body tremble. After the initial orgasm was done, it continued to send waves through Elias, whose penis was still held firmly inside of his lover. Later, when Lance came, it was between his legs, not in him. He felt the slick heat between his legs drip to his buttocks, anoint the bed spread.
Neither of them got up from this. They just lay there. He didn’t want to get rid of Lance, slick between his legs, in the cleft of his buttocks. Lance was curled on his side, this long, tall, muscular man all dusted in brown hairs, his Adam’s apple, the cords of muscle in his arm, the seriousness of his face still there even after this, who had just brought him inside of him, who lay fetal position to his fetal position, face to face.
“I wanted this,” Lance said. “To be with you.”
“Don’t be angry with me.”
“For what?” Lance put the back of his large hand to Elias’s face.
“For last this morning. I wanted you and Dylan. I wanted us together. I always hope that this will be the time the two of you are alright with it. I never know how to stop it.”
Lance kissed him on the head.
“What does that mean?”
“It means we can get over anything, and everything isn’t your responsibility,” is what Lance said.
The apartment was very quiet.
“Soon,” Lance said, running a hand over Elias’s breast, “I will be here all the time, and we will have to learn how to make us work. All the time. I’ll have to step up. Dylan will have to step up. Until now you’ve pretty much done everything that keeps us together, and you can’t be upset because there are some things we can’t handle. Besides,” Lance shrugged, “if you couldn’t tell, while it’s happening we actually like it.”
“Yes,” Elias was reflective. He turned over on his back. “That’s the problem with men. You always love what you’re doing when you’re doing it, and you can never think of the future. But when it’s done, you can’t live with it because you are forever sitting in the past.”
“What?” Lance laughed. “Aren’t you a man, too?”
“Not like you,” Elias said. “And not like Dylan. And not like most.”
Elias sat up.
“Like, there is a secret between you and Dylan, something like a shadow. It happened before me. It is always between the two of you. You never discuss it though. And I never ask.”
Now Lance was not smiling. He was not frowning, but the look of indulgence for a boy’s silly whims was gone.
from his face.
“What are you thinking?” Elias said, suddenly.
“Do you remember when we first met?”
“We met a lot. We were both around Dylan.”
“But when we really began to hang out?”
“Yes,” Elias told him.
“In my head you were a kid. A very interesting kid. But a kid. And then that night happened.”
“You mean when we had sex.”
“You never beat around bushes, do you?”
“Would you like me to?”
“Actually, yes. Sometimes,” Lance said. “Everyone can’t be as… frank as you.
“Well, anyway, yes, after that I became very scared of you.”
“What the hell for?” Elias demanded.
“Do you remember how it was?”
“Lance, of course I do.”
“I thought I shouldn’t have done it. I thought I’d hurt you. You were too young. But we kept on doing it. And then one day I realized you weren’t this little kid. In a way you were older than me. And a lot smarter. It was like I didn’t know you at all and you knew me… totally. It threw me for a loop. That’s how it was with you then, and that’s how it is with you now.”
