Cartography for Beginners (7 page)

"Lilies of the valley," Jack said softly beside him, and Leo looked up. "Malcolm. He liked lilies of the valley. He liked wildflowers, too. You know what would have made him happiest, though?"

"Redwood," Leo said. "Especially if it still smelled like the forest."

Jack nodded and trailed his fingers over the waxy petals of a lily. "Should I ask people not to send flowers? Make donations somewhere instead? I don't know where I'd ask them to send them, though. Malcolm didn't have a favorite charity."

"Anything to do with theater would be suitable."

"Jack," Stuart called to them and they both turned. "What are your thoughts on music?"

"Malcolm liked jazz and blues," Jack said. "Sad songs, a lot of them, but I don't know what would be appropriate for a funeral. And Mozart. He liked Mozart."

The funeral director said, "We have a wide selection of classical pieces."

"We have a music expert in our midst," said Stuart. "Leo? What do you think?"

"I'd have to get out some CDs," said Leo. "I can't rattle the titles of classical music off the top of my head. Mostly I have to hum a few bars."

Stuart said to the director, "An instrumental of the Bach-Gounod 'Ave Maria' might be a good place to start."

Jack said, "Malcolm wasn't Catholic."

"No," said Stuart, "but it's a familiar piece to many people, even if they don't know what it's called, and therefore soothing. I had it played at my mother's funeral and it was well-received."

Jack shrugged. "If you think it would work."

"We can go to my place after this," Leo told him. "I'm sure I've got a copy somewhere and you can give it a listen."

Jack nodded slowly as Stuart and the director resumed discussing practicalities. "You know what's funny about this? Or sad, I can't decide. I asked Malcolm to make a funeral plan not long ago, when he made his will. He said it would be years before he died and I shouldn't worry about it."

Leo patted his back. "We all thought it would be years and years." He kept his hand hovering over Jack's back, expecting another outburst, but Jack nodded and looked at the flowers again.

"Do you think we could get wildflowers?"

"At this time of year? I bet they're everywhere."

"Because I don't want anything heavy. I don't want cloying. I don't want anything that screams 'funeral.' I want things he loved."

"We can make that happen."

"You should do a reading," Jack said abruptly.

"Me?"

"He loved your voice. He said once sometimes he'd rather listen to you talk than Ella Fitzgerald sing, and you know he loved Ella. You could read a Shakespeare sonnet -- 'No longer mourn for me when I am dead,' maybe."

"Maybe," said Leo.

"I mean, he wasn't religious in any real way. Hymns and verses would only be out of place. But he had faith in Shakespeare." Jack's gaze was on the flowers but his face was utterly inward, remembering.

Leo patted his back again. "I'll look at some sonnets."

Jack scrubbed a hand over his face. "Why didn't he write a funeral plan?" he murmured and Leo chuckled, holding him close again. "Then all these questions would have answers."

"Funerals are more for the living than the dead," Leo said. "It's saying goodbye, we loved you, and we'll miss you. I think he'd be happy if you had people read his favorite poems and sing his favorite songs, and I think he'd be just as happy if we only played 'Ave Maria' and told stories about him. If you don't know what he wanted, go with what you want. No one knew him better."

"God, I'm glad you're here to keep me sane."

"Me too," said Leo, and smiled as Stuart joined them once again.

"I think we have come to an arrangement you'll find satisfactory," Stuart said to Jack. "Come along, time for your approval."

Jack kissed his cheek. "I'm glad you're here too," he said as he patted Stuart's stunned face.

"Er," said Stuart, "right. Well, this way." He took Jack to the funeral director, and Leo hummed to the piped-in music, watching Stuart.

***

Dune called Leo that afternoon. "Is Jack staying with you tonight?"

"No, he's at home. I asked him if he wanted to, or me to stay with him, but he said he'd rather be alone."

Dune was quiet a moment. "We always take Stuart out dancing when he visits. Should we do that tonight?"

"You want to go dancing the day before a funeral?"

"Too soon?" Dune said and Leo looked at the ceiling. "You could come too. God knows you could use something to cheer you up."

"Being ignored at a dance club will not cheer me up."

"I'll dance with you!" Micah shouted in the background.

"Did you hear him?" Dune said, amused. "My boyfriend will dance with you. That will encourage others and you'll finally meet the rebound guy we keep telling you to find."

Leo rubbed his forehead, not wanting to get into this argument again. "I'll see what Stuart thinks."

"I'll dance with Stuart, too!" Micah shouted and Leo hung up, shaking his head at them. He found Stuart in the little sunroom, typing on his phone. "Taking care of business?"

"Hm," Stuart affirmed. "Almost done. More details for Jamie's show." He looked up at Leo with a faint smile. "We're all excited for it." He finished typing and tucked his phone away in his trouser pocket. "Was that Dune?"

"It was. How did you know?"

"You always have a certain tone when you talk to Dune. I think of it as loving exasperation." He leaned back, the wicker sofa creaking, and folded his hands loosely together. "How is he?"

"The boys want to take you dancing tonight. Take us both. But the upshot is, dancing."

"Dancing," Stuart murmured. "Oh, they are so very young, aren't they?"

"I think their reasoning is it's life-affirming."

"So is sex," said Stuart, "which I'd much rather do."

"The only offer on the table is dancing."

They looked at each other a moment, then Stuart's phone chirped. He took it out with a sigh. "Tell the boys I'd love to go dancing," he said absently as he frowned at the screen, and Leo rose to do so.

"Bad news?" he said on his way back to the kitchen. Stuart followed him, still reading off his phone.

"Odd news. There's a young Frenchman who's been in my gallery quite often in the last week, and today asked my assistant for my home address. She's asking if I'd like for him to have it or if he should send his correspondence to the gallery." He leaned his hip against the counter as he typed. "I'm telling her to have him send it to the gallery. He's an artist seeking representation, I imagine." He put the phone away. "Everybody wants to be the next James Makepeace."

Leo said, "It's not a bad thing to be," as he dialed Dune's number.

***

Dancing was like a cup of tea to the boys. Heartbreak, sorrow, disappointment -- the cure was to dance. Gracefully like Dune, energetically like Jamie, spastically like Micah or minimally like Ben, and the end result was relaxed, if sweaty, young men.

Stuart sat at the club's bar, a gin and tonic in his hand, chuckling to himself as he watched the dancers. There were men of every flavor, from those far too young to be legally there to men his age, their gazes hungry. They were all gyrating and searching, eyes meeting briefly before they moved on or moved closer, sometimes with muscle-bound arms clasping slim waists, sometimes with hips falling easily into a mutual rhythm.

Leo was dancing, much to Stuart's surprise. He danced much like Dune, gracefully with a lot of arm movement and rolling hips. He wore all black, as he always did, and the boys had tried to tame his hair with little success. Still, for the first time since Adam had walked out, Leo was smiling in a way neither pained nor polite -- he looked joyful as he danced with his son and his friends.

The boys were on to something with the dancing cure.

Micah danced over to Stuart and held out his hands. Stuart laughed and shook his head, and Micah held out his hands more insistently. Stuart finished his drink in a swallow and put his hands in Micah's, and let the boy pull him out onto the floor.

Jamie jumped on him. "I could never get you to dance!" he shouted above the music.

Stuart bent low to say into his ear, "Micah's powers of persuasion are stronger than yours."

"Oi!" Jamie cried and put his arms around Stuart's neck. "That was almost wicked."

Stuart held Jamie around his waist and swayed, ignoring the tempo of the music around them. "What would you call this?" he said to Leo, who had danced closer, his shoulders moving.

"Call what? The music? It's a mash-up. They're the latest thing. Where have you been?"

"Not in dance clubs." Ben had danced closer too, so Stuart let Jamie go and Jamie spun into Ben's arms. That left Leo, so Stuart put his arms over Leo's shoulders. They moved together, slower than the beat, and Leo's hands found Stuart's hips.

"It's like a remix, only more post-modern." He moved closer to Stuart. "Why aren't you dancing with one of the boys?"

"They're all dancing with their boyfriends."

"I mean any of those boys." He indicated the boys who surrounded them, tall and short, thin and bulky, fair and dark, shirtless and confident or nervous in khakis and sweaters. "Surely there's one here who catches your eye."

Stuart looked around. "Choose one for me."

"What?"

"There are a hundred boys in here. Choose the one you think I'll like."

Leo looked around too, his arms sliding around Stuart like he intended to snuggle into him. "The blond one in the Ramones T-shirt."

"I don't like the Ramones."

"Blasphemy," Leo said. "Okay. How about that one there, on the stairs in the cowboy hat?"

The man in question was shirtless, his head bobbing to the music. He had a chiseled jaw, long legs, and a ridged abdomen. He sipped from a bottle of Heineken as his eyes scanned the dance floor. His eyes met Stuart's, and he smiled lazily and turned his body as if offering himself for display.

"Beautiful," Stuart admitted. "I can't imagine what we'd talk about."

"I thought the point wasn't talking."

"It's rather pleasant to have a conversation afterward."

"What's the point of me choosing someone for you if you're going to reject everyone I point out?"

The young man in the cowboy hat was making his way through the dancers. His body glistened as if he'd oiled himself, and there were golden hairs on his arms and chest and lower belly, dipping under the waistband of his jeans. He rivaled or surpassed any of the luscious boys all around, and Stuart could imagine what he would be like in bed -- athletic, sweetly respectful in the way American boys in his experience tended to be, playful.

Stuart put his mouth beside Leo's ear. "Because you're choosing only for beauty, and I've recently come to realize that beauty is not enough."

He felt Leo shiver. He was about to pull Leo closer when Leo stepped back. The young man had joined them and watched them with icy blue eyes, a faint smile on his handsome face. "Hi," he said softly, gaze flicking from Stuart to Leo and back.

"Hi," said Leo, looking amused.

"Hello," said Stuart. "I'm called Stuart, and this is Leo."

"I'm Harmony."

"Of course you are," murmured Stuart.

"I'll let you two get to know each other," said Leo and headed to the bar.

"Leo!" Stuart called after him, but the music was too loud and he didn't turn. Stuart said to Harmony, "Forgive my friend. He's looking for the perfect rebound."

"Poor fella," said Harmony, clearly not interested in Leo's tribulations. "I love your accent."

It was as good a starting place as any. He put his hands on the young man's slender waist and said, "Tell me about you, Harmony," and tried to look like he was listening.

***

The dance club had a chill-out room, where soothing abstract images were projected onto the bare walls and ambient music played. A few couples -- and in one luxurious corner, a trio -- were necking on the soft overstuffed sofas and chairs.

Leo avoided all of them. He chose a chair that looked out over the dance floor, and uncapped a bottle of water. He drank, trying to be soothed by the wordless singing and mellow beats.

It was another case of Stuart being Stuart, he thought, and there was no point in playing a game with him and then getting upset when he played along. Stuart chose the most beautiful boy in the room and was now doing -- whatever -- with him. It wasn't new. It was Stuart, doing what the boys expected him to do, doing what Leo had all but told him to do.

And he made it look so easy. Eyes meet, bodies respond, and he made that young man cross the room for him.

Leo tried to remember the last time someone had crossed a room for him. He couldn't.

Someone stopped by Leo's side and knelt so they would be eye-level. Leo didn't open his eyes but put out his hand, expecting to touch Dune's slim shoulder or even Micah's, but the arm he found was far too thick for either of the boys. He opened his eyes to see Stuart looking at him, amusement in the corners of his mouth.

"What happened to your cowboy?"

"He wasn't what I was looking for."

"I thought he was exactly what you're looking for."

"I told you, beauty's not enough anymore. Shove over." Leo moved over as much as he could on the narrow chair and Stuart lounged beside him, his legs stretched out. "May I have some of your water?"

Leo handed over the bottle. "I have no idea what I'm looking for at all. I do know it's not here."

"You can't know that. You won't give it a chance."

Leo shook his head. "It was never my scene, not even when I was their age." He swept out his hand toward the thumping dance floor. "I liked being in my apartment, listening to music and talking to my friends." Stuart looked at him. "I know. That's not how you meet people. I've never been good at meeting people, either."

"What am I to do with you?" said Stuart, more affectionate than frustrated. "It was supposed to make you happy, coming here."

"Nobody here is happy," Leo said. "Not if they're searching, anyway."

"Now you're being bitter."

"I know for a fact this is where Adam met the new guy," Leo said. "He never would have come here if he was happy. He would have stayed home."