Cartography for Beginners (5 page)

"I wanted to hear about the weather," Leo said. "I wanted to hear about something beautiful. It's been a hard day."

"I imagine so," Stuart said. "When is the funeral?"

"Wednesday."

"Shall I fly out for it?"

Leo ran his fingers along the grout lines in the counter. "I think that's above and beyond the call of friendship. You barely knew him."

"True. But I can still come to the funeral if you need a friend."

I do,
Leo thought,
I do need a friend.
"It's not necessary. Thank you."

"Oh. All right." He heard Stuart take a sip of his tea. "I suppose it's time for you to sleep. Good night, Leo."

"Good night," Leo said and then said, "Wait. Stuart. I'd love for you to come."

There was a slight pause, and he could hear Stuart's smile in his voice. "Then I'll be there as soon as I can. I'll take a cab from the airport so you don't have to worry about fetching me."

"Thank you," Leo said. "I mean, for that, but for coming, too. Thank you for coming."

"It's no bother," Stuart said. "It's better than not seeing you until fall. I'll call you when I'm in the city. Good night, Leo."

"Good morning, Stuart," Leo said, and hung up as Stuart was chuckling. He leaned against the kitchen counter, his arms folded, and wondered how the hell that had happened. He loved company, and he loved Stuart's company in particular, but Malcolm and Stuart hadn't known each other well and there was no real reason for Stuart to come to his funeral.

Unless,
Leo thought as he was getting ready for bed,
it's not about Malcolm at all.
"It's better than not seeing you until fall," were Stuart's exact words, but surely he meant all of his friends here in the city. He was rebuilding his friendship with Jamie, he was close to Micah, and of course he usually stayed with Leo rather than at an impersonal hotel. They usually ended up spending a lot of time together anyway, since their tastes were more in tune than either of them with the boys. Leo would go with Stuart to galleries or to meet artists, or take him to restaurants the boys found too unfashionable -- Ben was particular about where he would eat -- or to movies and clubs not to the boys' taste. He could always count on Stuart to join him for a jazz trio or a documentary, or to lounge with him on the sofa watching Star Trek reruns while the boys went dancing.

It would be lovely to have Stuart here, as it always was, even if the circumstances were sorrowful. He had always been a generous and supportive friend.

The lights off, the apartment quiet, Leo lay in his bed and gazed at the ceiling, softly lit by the streetlights, where Jamie had painted a mural years ago. He had offered to paint over it after Adam left, but Leo saw no reason to destroy Jamie's work or even remake it into something else. It was a dreamy bit of nonsense in Jamie's joyous style, musical notations like bubbles, words written in an unspooling ribbon --"Love," "Happiness," "Family"-- and four names, Leo and Adam, Frances and Ocean, in the center of the ribbon.

Frances.
Shit. He hadn't called Frances about Malcolm yet, and it was far too late to do it now. Leo turned on the bedside lamp, wrote, "Call Frances!" on the notepad he kept on the night table, and turned off the lamp again. He rubbed his eyes.

Definitely getting old,
he thought.

Chapter Three

"I forgive you," Frances said for the fourth or fifth time, her arm around Leo's shoulders. Sunday brunch was one of their traditions, from when they were students and brunch would be ramen boiled on a hot plate and Cokes from the soda machine, to now with a grown son and their lives shifting yet again. "You had so much else to think about yesterday."

"Even so, I should have called you. Here, taste this." He held a spoonful of skillet potatoes to her mouth. She blew on them to cool them and tasted obediently.

"More pepper," she decided. "I think the real question is: are Emily and the children coming?"

"I didn't talk to them. I'm not sure if Jack did." He sprinkled more pepper into the skillet and stirred the potatoes. "If they've forgiven him, maybe. But I'm not counting on them forgiving him."

"Tragic," she said, shaking her head. "He never should have gotten married in the first place."

"We have to make mistakes to learn from them," Leo remarked.

Frances got a fork from the drawer and stabbed a chunk of potato. "How's Dunie doing?" she asked quietly and popped the potato into her mouth.

"He's better. Don't you think he's better?"

"I see him so rarely nowadays, it's hard to know if he's being sincere or if he's trying to assure me." She leaned against the counter. "So he's really doing okay?"

"Yes," Leo said decisively. "Micah is taking good care of him. Speak of the devil," he added when Micah came into the kitchen.

Micah froze, his eyes wide. "I swear I'm only here for some juice," he said, holding up his hands in surrender.

"Of course, sweetie," Frances said and went to him for a hug and a kiss. "Do you want cranberry or orange?"

"I'll get it. Why am I the devil?" He opened the fridge and took out a carafe of cranberry juice.

"You're not," Leo said. "It's an expression. I mentioned your name and there you were."

"Oh," Micah said as he poured juice into a glass. "As long as you were saying good things, it's okay with me. Were you saying good things?" He put the carafe away and noisily drank his juice.

"Of course we were," Frances said. "We adore you." He beamed at her and she added, "How is Dune doing? Really."

"Really?" Micah said, and his expressive face grew pensive. "He goes to therapy and he takes his antidepressants, and he'll go out if I pester him enough. Sometimes he even enjoys it."

"But is he improving?" Frances said.

"I think so," Micah said. "He's got a ways to go still, but he knows we all love him and support him and that helps a lot."

"Good," Leo said, and the oven timer buzzed and Leo turned to take out the cinnamon rolls. "Is he writing?"

"I don't know. He hasn't shown me anything if he is."

"He hasn't shown me anything either," Frances said.

"I'm sure all he needs is more time," Leo said. "Who wants to help me frost these?"

"My job!" Micah said, pouncing on the bowl of maple-flavored frosting. Frances laughed and drifted out of the kitchen -- to talk to Dune, Leo assumed -- and Leo gave Micah a spatula for the rolls.

"Are you guys doing okay?" he asked Micah quietly. "Do you need any money?"

"We're doing fine," Micah said. "I make IT money and Dune doesn't eat much."

"Just checking," Leo said. "I don't doubt your ability to provide. I want to help if you need it."

Micah kissed his cheek. "We're doing fine, favorite Leo."

"Okay," Leo said and went back to preparing brunch. There were eggs, potatoes, cinnamon rolls, sausage and bacon, juice and coffee and champagne if anyone wanted mimosas. It was only the family today: Frances's wife, Ocean, Ben and Jamie, Dune and Micah.

The phone rang and Leo thought,
And Stuart,
and couldn't keep himself from smiling as he picked up the receiver. "Leo Bellamy."

"I," Stuart said in a long-suffering tone, "am in the lone cab in this city, on my way to your place. I think the driver doesn't believe I've been here before -- he seems prone to taking me past all the major landmarks and pointing them out."

Leo laughed. "When will you be here?"

"Fifteen minutes, unless he decides I need to see the gardens at Golden Gate Park, in which case I have no idea. Have I missed brunch?"

"Not yet. If you're late we'll set aside a plate for you."

Stuart's tone grew warm. "I've missed your cooking, Leo."

"You'll get it soon. Come on up when you get here. The door is unlocked."

"I will do so," Stuart said and hung up.

Leo hung up as well and smiled at Micah, who was licking frosting from his fingers. "That goes on the rolls, not on you."

Micah looked innocent, as if he didn't have a dab of frosting on his nose. "Stuart's coming?"

"Yes." He took the spatula from Micah's hand -- a decent amount of frosting had gone on the rolls, but he suspected plenty was now in Micah's stomach -- and starting spreading the remaining frosting. "To be my moral support during the funeral."

"Good," Micah said and hauled himself up onto the counter. He started swinging his feet. "So this is three times he's visited you so far this year. And Jamie said he'll be out in the fall."

"Yes," Leo said again.

"It's a long way to travel so often. He doesn't even visit New York as much."

"He likes the city, even if he'll never admit it. And he likes us. He's always asking after you boys."

"He likes you," Micah said and swooped his fingers into the bowl to scoop up some frosting.

"Stop it." Leo rapped Micah's hand with the spatula. "You have to eat more than sugar today."

Micah pouted. "I will, I will." His mood shifted again and he said casually, "You should date him, Leo."

"I'm not going to date him. I'm too old and cranky for him."

"I can vouch for him, you know," Micah went on blithely. "He's got that hot librarian thing going for him. His body's amazing and he's not cut."

Leo sighed. "I didn't need to know that."

"Sure you did," Micah said. "It's piquing your curiosity, isn't it?" Leo looked at him sternly and Micah giggled and hopped off the counter. "Should I tell everybody the food's ready?"

"Yes. Brat."

Micah scampered out to the other room, calling, "Time to eat now!" and Leo closed his eyes, took a breath, and started putting food in bowls and on plates. He stopped when he heard Jamie cry, "Stuart!" and came out of the kitchen to see Jamie all but tackle Stuart as he came through the front door.

"Stuart!" said Micah and scrambled out of his chair to do the same. Stuart hugged them, one in each arm, laughing at their enthusiasm.

Jamie said, "I thought we weren't seeing you in the city again until October."

"I've come for the funeral. If Leo's going to be strong for the bereaved widower, somebody's got to be strong for Leo, and I'd say that's my job." He let them both go as Dune got up from the table and came over to shake his hand.

"Thanks," Dune said quietly, and Stuart hugged him too.

"How are you?" Stuart said seriously, cupping Dune's face in his hand, and Dune dropped his eyes and smiled, looking embarrassed.

"I'm fine. Go say hello to my dad. He's waiting."

Stuart patted Dune's cheeks and went to where Leo was leaning against the door frame between the kitchen and the living room. "Leo," he said.

"Stuart," Leo answered, and then put down the spatula he'd been holding and wrapped both arms around Stuart. Every time Stuart came back to the city Leo was stunned by how well he fit -- with his friends, with his family, in his arms. "I like the earring."

Stuart laughed and moved away, touching the small gold stud with a fingertip. "I've decided to have my midlife crisis."

"Quietly and tastefully, of course." He let Stuart go. "Brunch is ready. You know where to put your stuff." Stuart nodded and took his suitcase into the guest room -- it was ostensibly Dune's, though he hadn't slept there for months -- and Leo returned to preparing their food. He caught Micah beaming at him and shook his head in response.

***

Brunch was spent telling each other what they had been up to since Stuart's last visit -- or Micah's last email, in his case -- and once everyone's stories had been related, Leo said to Stuart, "I can't remember if you ever met Malcolm and Jack."

"Once or twice, I think," Stuart said. "At one of your parties. Jack is tall, soft-spoken, and ginger, correct?"

"That's Jack," said Leo with a nod.

"So talented, too," Frances said. "His
Titus Andronicus
last year was stunning."

"And Malcolm," Stuart said, "salt-and-pepper beard, distinguished-looking, as I recall. An imposing figure. Deep voice."

"We used to call it the voice of God when we were students." Leo smiled with a nostalgic look in his eye. "As in, 'Look out, here comes the voice of God' before he'd come thundering in."

"Did he and Jack meet when you were his students?" Stuart reached for another cinnamon roll.

"No, they met later," Leo said. "Much later. He was married for years -- Malcolm was, I mean. No one knew he was gay until the day he left Emily to be with Jack."

"I always felt for Emily," said Frances. "The man she thought was the love of her life leaving her out of the blue. I've never blamed her for cutting herself off from all of us." She explained to Stuart, "She thought we all knew and were laughing at her behind her back. The truth was, no one knew. Not any of us, even Malcolm's closest friends."

"I imagine it was quite painful," Stuart said in a neutral tone, and when Micah and Leo both gave him sorrowful, empathetic looks he shook his head slightly and looked away.

Dune said, "But before that happened, the theater was the best playground ever."

"I have a hard time imagining you as a child," Stuart said to Dune.

"I was," Dune said and drank some juice. "I was completely spoiled, too."

"Oh, you were not spoiled," Frances said. "You were nurtured." She reached over to stroke his hair. "There's a difference."

"Yes, Mom." Dune smiled at her.

Stuart sipped his coffee. There was something about being around this odd little family that made him regret certain actions he'd taken as a young man. His own son would be thirty-one now, but Stuart hadn't seen him since he was as small as Dune in Leo's stories.
I wouldn't know my own son if I passed him in the street,
he thought.
I wouldn't know my daughters.

It had been their mother's decision to keep the children away from him, and Stuart had not challenged it. Perhaps he should have, but at the time he'd been so angry and hurt he had done everything but pack the bags.

Perhaps if he had challenged her, he could have this same comfortable relationship with his own son that Leo had with Dune, the same sense of play and trust. Perhaps he would still be on speaking terms with his children's mother.