Toxic Bachelors (39 page)

“Why do you love me? Because I'm dying?” Boy's eyes were haunting as they bored into Gray's.

“No, because you're my family,” Gray said in a choked voice as tears rolled down his cheeks and wouldn't stop. The floodgates of his heart had opened totally. “You're all I have left.” It felt good to say it. The two men held hands across the table.

“I'll be gone soon,” Boy said matter-of-factly. “And then she'll be all you have left. And her children. They're all you've got. And me.” It wasn't much, and Gray knew it. He didn't have much to show for fifty years on the planet. As crazy as they were, his parents had more. Three kids they'd adopted and made a mess of, but they tried at least, to the best of their limited abilities. They had each other. And all the people they touched as they roamed the world. Even Gray's paintings, and the agony that had inspired them, were somehow an outcropping of the two people who had adopted him and Boy. They had done a lot. More than Gray had ever thought or admitted. He saw that now. His parents had been crazy and limited, but at least they tried, even as messed up as they were. And Boy had tried too. Enough to come and see him. In comparison, Gray felt he had done far less with his emotional life, until Sylvia, and now he was limiting that too, and hurting her because he was scared. Terrified in fact.

“I love you, Boy,” Gray whispered as they sat holding hands across the table. He didn't care who saw them or what they thought. Suddenly he was no longer afraid of everything that had frightened him for so long. Boy was the final living symbol of the family Gray had run from for years.

“I love you too,” Boy said. He looked exhausted when they finally got up, and cold. He was shivering, and Gray gave him his coat. It was his best one. He had grabbed it on the way out, but it seemed a fitting gesture for the dying brother he had never known. He wished he had gone to see him before that, but he hadn't. It had never occurred to him, or in fact it had, and he had run from the idea. He realized now that he had run from so much, and all of it to avoid life, and getting hurt again. His family had become the symbol of all he feared. Boy was slowly lifting the fear from him.

“Why don't you stay with me tonight?” Gray offered. “I'll sleep on the couch.”

“I can stay at the hotel,” Boy said, but Gray didn't want him to. They went to pick up his things and went back to Gray's place. He said he had to leave by nine in the morning to catch his plane.

“I'll wake you up,” Gray promised as he tucked him gently into bed and kissed him on the forehead. He felt almost as though Boy were his son. Boy thanked him and was asleep before Gray closed the door.

Gray painted all night. He did sketches of him, dozens of them, so he wouldn't forget every detail of his face, and laid down the foundation for a painting. He felt as though it were a race against death. He never went to bed all night, and he woke Boy at eight and made him scrambled eggs. Boy ate about half, and drank some juice, and then said he had to leave. He was taking a cab to the airport, but Gray said he'd go with him. Boy just smiled, and then they left. He had to be there at ten for an eleven o'clock flight.

They stood close together after Boy checked in, and then they called the flight. Boy looked panicked for a moment, and then Gray reached out and pulled him into his powerful arms, and held him there while they both cried. They were tears not only for the present but for their lost past, and all the opportunities they'd missed, that they had tried to recapture in a single night. They had done well, both of them.

“It's going to be all right,” Gray said, but they both knew it wouldn't, unless Boy's theories about Heaven were right. “I love you, Boy. Call me.”

“I will.” But he might not, Gray knew. This could be the last moment, the last time, the last touch. And now that Gray had opened his heart to him, it would all hurt so much. So much too much. But it was a clean hurt this time. The clean sharp sword of loss. It was like severing a limb surgically, instead of having it torn off.

“I love you!” Gray called after him as he boarded the plane. He said it again and again so Boy would hear it, and when he reached the door to the plane, Boy turned and smiled. He waved, and then he was gone. The Little Prince had vanished, as Gray stood watching the place where he had been, and cried.

Gray walked around the airport for a long time. He needed to think, and to catch his breath. All he could think of now was Boy and the things he had said. What if he had never existed, if Gray had never seen him again? If he hadn't come all this way to see him. He seemed like a messenger from God.

It was noon when Gray finally called Sylvia on his cell phone. He hadn't talked to her in two days. And he hadn't slept all night.

“I'm at the airport,” he said, sounding gruff.

“So am I.” She sounded surprised. “Where are you?” He told her what terminal, and she said she was at the international terminal picking Emily up. It was Christmas Eve. “Is something wrong?” Yes. No. It had been. Now it was fine. It wasn't fine. It never had been, but at least he was now. He felt whole for the first time in his life. “What are you doing at the airport?” She was suddenly worried that he was leaving to go somewhere. Everything between them had totally fallen apart.

“I was seeing my brother off.”

“Your brother? You don't have a brother.” And then she remembered, but it sounded crazy to her, and it was.

“Boy. We'll talk about it. Where are you?” She told him again, and he hung up.

She saw him walking across the terminal toward her, and he looked a mess. He was wearing an old sweater and jeans, and a jacket that should have been thrown out years before. Boy had left in his good coat. Gray wanted him to have it. He looked like a madman, or an artist, and he looked as though he hadn't combed his hair in days. And then suddenly he had his arms around her and they were crying and he was telling her he loved her. He was still holding her when Emily walked out of customs with a big grin as soon as she saw her mother.

Sylvia introduced them, and Gray looked nervous, but shook her hand with a cautious smile. He asked her how the flight was, and picked up her bag. They walked through the airport with Gray's arm around Sylvia's shoulder, and Emily holding her mother's hand. They went back to the apartment, where Gray met Gilbert, and Sylvia fixed them all lunch. Gray helped her cook dinner that night, and he told her about Boy in bed that night. They talked for hours, and the next morning, they all exchanged gifts. He had nothing for her, but Sylvia didn't care. The children thought him eccentric but nice. And much to his own surprise, he liked them. Boy was right.

They called Gray on Christmas night. Boy was gone. The friend who called said he was sending Gray his journal and a few things. The next morning, Sylvia and her children left for Vermont. Gray went with them, and he walked out into the snow one afternoon at dusk, and stood looking at the mountains. He could feel Boy near him, and hear his voice. Then quietly, he walked back to the house where Sylvia was waiting. She was standing on the porch, watching him and smiling. That night, as he stood outside with her, he looked at the sky, saw the stars, thought of Boy, and the Little Prince.

“He's up there somewhere,” he said sadly. She nodded. They put their arms around each other, and walked back into the house.

24

C
AROLE
, M
AGGIE, AND
A
DAM FLEW DOWN TO
S
T
. Barts on Adam's plane. It was the first time either of them had met Carole, and it was a little awkward at first, but by the time they landed in St. Barts, Carole and Maggie were fast friends. They were as different as two women could get. But while Adam slept, Carole talked about the center and the children she met there, and Maggie talked about her early life, the time she'd spent in foster care, her pre-law classes, her job, and how lucky she was to be with Adam. Carole loved her long before they got off the plane. She was genuine and honest, kind, and incredibly bright. It was impossible not to like her, and Maggie felt the same way about Carole. They had even giggled conspiratorially about how furious they had each been that Charlie and Adam had wanted to go off on their own over the holidays, and how grateful they were that they hadn't.

“I was
really
pissed!” Maggie confessed in a whisper, as Carole laughed.

“So was I… actually, I was more hurt. Charlie says he doesn't do Christmas. That's really sad.” They talked about his lost family then, and how close the three men were. Maggie was glad they had finally met. She knew they had broken up for a while, but she didn't tell Carole. And then she talked about spending Christmas Day with Adam's kids. It had been great. They were taking them skiing in January over a long weekend. They had covered all the bases by the time Adam woke up, just before they landed.

“What have you two been cooking up?” he asked with a yawn.

“Nothing,” Maggie volunteered with a guilty grin, and then she said she hoped she didn't get seasick. She had never been on a boat before. Carole had. She had been on lots of them, though mostly sailboats. Maggie was amazed at how down-to-earth she was, since Adam had told her who she was. He was struck by Carole's beauty, her gentleness and kindness. How normal she was. Charlie had done it right this time. Adam just hoped he didn't blow it, or chicken out. It was going to be fun being a foursome for a change. It was a major difference in their lives.

Gray had called him just before they left. He was on his way to Vermont, and said he had met Sylvia's kids. Everything was fine. Adam had no idea how it had happened, but Gray had said he would tell him about it over lunch when he got back.

Charlie was waiting for them at the airport with two crew members and the captain, and he already had a tan. He looked happy and relaxed, and thrilled to see Carole. When they got there, Maggie couldn't believe the boat. She walked from one end to the other, looking at everything, talking to crew members, asking questions, and she said she felt like Cinderella all over again when she saw their cabin. She said it was going to be like a honeymoon, and Adam gave her a dark look.

“Oh, relax,” she teased him. “I don't want to get married. I just want to stay on this boat forever. Maybe I should marry Charlie,” she said, jokingly.

“He's too old,” Adam said as he pulled her onto the bed with him. They didn't go back on deck for several hours, and when they did, Charlie and Carole were relaxing. Carole looked totally at home. She had brought the perfect wardrobe of white jeans and shorts, little cotton skirts and blouses, she even had deck shoes, which Maggie checked out, and was impressed. She had brought a lot of really dressy stuff, along with bikinis, and shorts, but Carole assured her she looked great. She was so young and pretty and had such a great figure, she could have worn garbage bags and looked terrific. Her style was completely different from Carole's, but in her own way, she was exotic and sexy, and her look had toned down a lot in her months with Adam. What she had bought wasn't expensive, but she'd paid for it herself.

They went to their cabins before dinner to change, after a quick swim, and then came back up to have drinks on the aft deck as they always did. Adam had tequila, Charlie a martini, and the girls both had wine. They were leaving for St. Kitts the next day, but not until the girls had a chance to do a little shopping in the port, as Charlie had promised. That night they went dancing. Everyone came back exhausted and happy, and slept late the next day.

They had breakfast together, and then Charlie and Adam went windsurfing while Carole and Maggie went shopping. Maggie didn't buy much, and Carole bought
pareos
at Hermès to wear on the trip. She offered to lend some to Maggie. By the time they left port late that afternoon, all four felt as though they had been traveling together forever. The only dark cloud on the horizon was that Maggie got seasick on the way to St. Kitts, and Charlie had her lie down on deck. She was still a little green when they anchored just outside the port. But she was fine at dinner, and they all watched the sunset together. Everything was perfect day after day, and their only complaint was that the trip went too fast. It always did. Before they knew it, it was the last day, the last night, the last swim, the last dance. They spent their last night on the boat, and Charlie teased Maggie about getting seasick, but she'd been a lot better for the last two days. Adam had even taught her how to sail. Charlie had taught Carole to windsurf, she was strong enough to do it, Maggie wasn't. They all hated to see the trip end.

Carole had only been able to stay a week, and Adam and Maggie had to go back too. His clients were complaining, and Maggie had to get back to work. They all did, except Charlie, who was staying on. He had been quiet for the last two days. Carole had noticed it, but didn't say anything until the last night, after Maggie and Adam had gone to bed.

“Are you okay?” she asked him quietly, as they sat in deck chairs in the moonlight and he smoked a cigar. They were at anchor that night, instead of in port. Charlie always preferred it, and it was more peaceful on the water than having people walk by all night on the quay. Carole preferred it too. She'd had a wonderful time with him and the others.

“I'm fine,” he said, looking out at the water, the lord of his domain. She could see why he loved being on the boat. Everything about the
Blue Moon
was perfect, from their cabins to the food, and the impeccably trained crew. It was a life one could easily adjust to, it seemed a million miles away from real life and all its problems. It was a life of being constantly and totally pampered.

“I've had a wonderful time,” she said with a lazy smile. It was the most relaxing week she'd spent in years, and she loved being with him. Even more than she had expected to. He was the perfect companion, perfect lover, perfect friend. He glanced over at her through his cigar smoke, looked at her strangely, and worried her again. He looked as though he had something on his mind.

“I'm glad you like the boat,” he said with a pensive expression.