The General and the Elephant Clock of Al-Jazari (6 page)

“I think she’s wondering when we’re going broke, and is pumping him for information about the firm. She doesn’t want to ask me, but she’s worried about money. He likes to gossip and doesn’t realize she’s playing him. He may be a trust-fund baby, but he’s not as bright as Martha.”

“She must have heard me say that information is a critical tool for the warrior-philosopher.”

“She roped him into lunch with a different tool. A Coach tote bag in lemon-yellow leather, with a silk scarf tied to the handles that he actually squealed over. She propped it up on his desk when she came into the office. It was a bit of a fuck-you to me, since I told her we needed to stop buying Coach handbags and pay off the credit cards. She said it was her divorce bag, the last decent bag she would be able to afford for years to come, and then she asked if I was going to stop buying hot air balloons. And, I mean, she had a point. So I dropped it.”

“Women have handbags for different occasions? Not just to match their outfits?”

Gabriel slid him a look, a slow grin. “Yeah. They do.”

“How’s the practice?”

“Running on empty. The lawyers, the bank account, but mostly the clients. Everyone hanging on by their fingernails. I blame the economy.”

“Who doesn’t? That seems to be the refrain of the day. Is this what you want to do, Gabriel?”

“For now. Maybe not forever. I can’t say I enjoy watching every penny so close.”

“You’re worried about money, Martha’s worried about money. Are you and I going to talk about money?”

Gabriel wrapped an arm around John’s shoulder. “John, I’m doing the best I can.”

“I know, Gabriel. We’re sharing a bed, and we’re sharing a bathroom, and I wouldn’t hesitate to share your toothbrush, but neither one of us has mentioned sharing a checking account. Are there still some things we can’t talk about?”

“It’s….” Gabriel hesitated. “I admit that is harder than I anticipated. I don’t know why.”

“We’ll need to address this at some point, I suppose,” John said, “if we want to move forward.”

“Move forward?”

John pulled him around so he could look into Gabriel’s dark eyes. “So we can move from being lovers to being a family. If that’s what you wanted. Maybe you already have a family, and you don’t want another one and you need to keep it simple. I don’t know, Gabriel. I’m feeling my way blind here. But we seem to be dancing around money a little bit.”

“I’m not paying anything for my share of the house. I only pay for groceries when I go to the store. It makes me feel a little uncomfortable,” Gabriel said. “I don’t want to feel like I’m freeloading.”

“I’m thinking we ought to pool our resources so we can take care of our big extended family together, and you’re thinking about giving me half of the electric bill. We’re not quite in the same place in our thinking on this. I hate organizing the money. I was hoping I could turn over the entire thing to you to manage. A little added benefit of having you in my bed in the morning, sex and financial management rolled into one hot pilot.”

“What, you want me to manage your investments and everything?”

“I’m not really into investments. I do have a savings account.”

“John, where’s all your money? Do you… I mean, you have been keeping some back all these years, right? For a rainy day?”

“Well, I assume the federal government is not going to stop pay to retirees anytime soon, and I do have the savings, and some is set aside for Kim.”

Gabriel was studying him, a frown between his eyes. “John….”

“Money was never important to me, Gabriel. I can’t get excited about it. And, if I’m being honest, I assumed I would always be able to work, that I’d be getting a paycheck. How did I end up at fifty-two, unemployed? But a warrior lives a simple life, right? I mean, how much do we need?”

“Yeah, you need me to take over the money. We’ll work it out, boss. I feel like my plate’s overflowing right now.” He pulled John close. “Thanks for giving me some time. And some space.”

When they got home, they ate supper with Billy in their cheerful tangerine kitchen. After dinner, Gabriel took his phone to the back porch to talk to Juan. The magazine had been out for a couple of days. Billy had asked at dinner if Juan had seen it yet. Neither of them knew. Gabriel was out on the porch for a long time, and when he came in, he went straight to the shower, stood under the hot water for a long time.

Before he went to bed, John stuck his head into the garage to check on Kim and Abdullah. Neither of them had eaten. The lights were out, and the room was lit by a couple of thick squat candles the color of beeswax. The candles cast a warm sweet light over the room and the boy lying asleep in the bed. Kim was naked, the sheet tangled and low over his hips, and in his sleep he had reached out, put his hand on Abdullah’s leg. Abdullah was sitting on a chair next to the bed, the cello between his knees. He was playing a song for Kim, something quiet and lovely, maybe Bach. The candlelight flickered and warmed his face, left his broad shoulders in darkness. John closed the door again as quietly as he could.

Gabriel was already in bed, his caramel skin warm against the white of the pillowcase. “Are they okay?”

“I think so. How’s Juan?”

“He’s seen the cover. He didn’t read the article. He said his mother did, and then she took a Valium and went to bed. He had to fix dinner for himself and Martie. Mac and cheese.”

J
OHN
received a couple of interesting e-mails the next morning. Gabriel was up and gone early, with plans to stop by his house and have breakfast with the kids. The first e-mail was from an old colleague and fellow retired brigadier general, David Painter. John didn’t particularly like the man. They had worked together several times in the past. Painter was good, had what John would call episodic brilliance, but his work tended to be sloppy. He didn’t always put in the time and research that John felt was needed for their work to bring about lasting change. He also tended to be sloppy in his dress, in his personal manner, as if his wild and original mind meant the same rules didn’t apply to him. But they knew each other well, both strengths and weaknesses. John winced at the name on the e-mail, thinking Painter was exactly the sort of man he did not want to discuss his coming out with in any detail. Not that he had much choice, since he’d splashed every bit of privacy he’d ever had across the cover of
Out
magazine.

The second e-mail was from Abdullah, a very polite thank you note to himself and Gabriel for rescuing him yesterday. John looked at it for a moment, appreciating Abdullah’s good manners, and then he replied:
Are you sending me an e-mail from the garage? Or have you skipped town already?

The answer came moments later:
I’m in the garage.

If you would like, you can come into the kitchen and speak to me in person.

Abdullah wrote back:
I’m about to climb into the shower. See you in a few minutes.

John shook his head at the screen for a long moment and wondered if Abdullah and Kim e-mailed each other from the bathroom. No, e-mail was dead, he’d read that somewhere. Instant messaging? Texting, that was it. So much easier than speech, apparently. Maybe they would evolve right out of their vocal cords and human communications would consist exclusively of written messages and a few grunts and gentle hoots, like the great apes.

John turned back to the first e-mail, wondering if he needed to complain about the younger generation first thing in the morning, every morning, or if his time would be better spent doing pushups.

Hey, John, long time. I saw the cover of
Out
. It’s making the rounds in DC, everybody saying they knew it all along and wondering what took you so long to grab your
cojones
and tell the truth. Your pilot looks like he’s held up well.

John could feel his blood pressure spike, a drumbeat behind his eye that might be an aneurysm getting ready to blow.

I heard you quit the university. Little dust up with the locals? Well, you were always a sucker for a boy in trouble. That’s why I’m calling on you. I’ve got a couple of boys in serious trouble, former Rangers, in Tunisia. They’ve been working for me as contractors in Algeria. I could go in and level the fuckers and get my boys out of there, but things seem a bit fragile in Arab Africa right now. Maybe a peacemaker would be a better choice. And no matter our differences, John, you were a peacemaker. You always brought home the right solution. That was your great gift, understanding the right solution to the problem. So how about you hop on a plane to DC and talk to me about these boys? I heard your pilot went to law school. Why don’t you bring him along? I’ve got a couple of plane tickets at the airport for tomorrow, and a hotel reservation. First class, if you care about that shit. I’m assuming you two can share a room? Appreciate it, John.

He forwarded the e-mail to Gabriel. David Painter knew how to hit the soft spots. “Just give me a little job to do, and I’ll follow you anywhere, you fuckhead,” John said to the office wall. He walked back to their bedroom, pulled an overnight bag from the closet shelf.

Kim found him putting a load of clothes into the washer. “Hey, Uncle J. What’s up?”

John looked at him for a long moment. Kim had his hands on his hips, had prepared himself for a royal ass-chewing. He was a brave kid, John thought suddenly, and the affection he felt for the boy was suddenly on his face. Kim reached out and hugged him, his face buried in John’s neck. Even at twenty-three, his first thought had been to come find his uncle and face the music. But John had no time right now to get into it.

“Kim, I’ve got to leave tomorrow, go up to DC. I don’t know any more than that.”

“What can I do?”

John shook his head. “Everything’s done. I’ll need you to watch over Billy and Juan if Gabriel comes with.”

“Sure, no problem.”

“Keep everyone safe,” John said, and Kim’s face flushed.

“I hear you. You can count on me.”

“I always do, kiddo.”

He followed John to his bedroom, studied the clothes laid out on the bed, and the passport. “Not that white shirt. Take the gray one. You have to leave the country? Where are you going? I can keep an eye on CNN for a sudden flare in hostilities.”

“Not exactly sure, but I heard talk about Algeria and Tunisia.”

“Oh, God.” Kim sat down on the side of the bed. “Tunisia, isn’t that where Arab Spring turned from smoke to fire?”

John glanced at him. “Nice metaphor. And yes, it started in Tunisia. But we don’t have to assume that’s the only trouble that can brew. It’s still a Muslim country at the end of the day. Lots of ways for Americans to get into trouble.”

“That’s what this is? A rescue mission?”

“Seems likely, but I don’t really know. Kim, you know that stupid magazine came out this week and every jerk at St. Matthew’s High School is going to mention to Juan that they’ve seen it. I’m worried about him.”

“And the Horse-Lord says he needs to just suck it up and take it like a man?”

“No, it’s not like that.” John sat down on the bed. “He wants Juan to stop making Martha crazy with his behavior, using this issue as an excuse to act out every hostile teenaged impulse, and he also wants to let the adults handle issues of bullying. The school authorities or the police, if it comes to that.”

Kim was nodding. “Right. That is so not going to happen. Have you both forgotten Juan is fifteen now?”

“He’s not one of your baby gangbangers, Kim. He’s an army kid. He has braces and goes to Catholic school and lives in the suburbs.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m worried, too. He’s hardly talking to me anymore, or Billy. It’s like he’s grown up really fast and he’s tough inside. He’s strong in his anger. Young Luke is turning toward the dark side.” Kim grinned for a moment. “I wonder how I would show that in a photo? Maybe I’ll get him to let me take his picture. Feel him out a little bit.”

“Whatever you think is best, Kim. I usually try to stay out of sight until a crisis looms. He’s not speaking to me, either.”

“You’ll keep yourself safe, won’t you? And the Horse-Lord? Just because I’m grown up doesn’t mean I don’t need you anymore.”

“Now you have Abdullah. Is that what I’m to understand? The two of you, together?”

Kim nodded, pulled at a loose thread on the bedspread. “Yeah. I think so. I think we’re going to be like you and Gabriel. Two bodies, one heart, all our lives. That’s how it seems to me, but I don’t want to jump the gun. It’s early days yet. Half the time we start a conversation getting along and end the conversation fighting and I have no idea why.”

“You’re just feeling your boundaries, defining yourselves to each other. That’s what I’ve always wanted for you, a real relationship, a family of your own. You guys can even adopt kids if you wanted. I’m really very pleased, Kim.” He looked at what Kim was doing and frowned. “Don’t pull on that thread. I’ve got some scissors in the bathroom if you need to clip a loose thread. I know how much you spent on this new bedspread.”

“Speaking of that.” Kim stared at him until he put the tie down on the bed.