by Jay Quinn
“Noah, how can you rub this on your own back?” She countered reasonably.
Her eldest son sighed as if she was demanding he submit to a mustard plaster rather than something as simple as a daub of Vicks applied with tender loving care. He pulled his T-shirt over his head and flung it across the room.
Before he turned his back to her, Meg glimpsed a curl of sparse hairs around his navel and a suspiciously dark area on his chest. Gently, but firmly she grasped his arm and pivoted him back around to face her. Sure enough, there were perhaps ten dark strong hairs sprouted between the immature cut of his pectoral muscles and a few more brave shoots around his small nipples. Impulsively, she reached as though to tug at his bit of thatch and said, “You’re becoming a young man!”
Noah batted her hand away and took a quick couple of steps back from her. “Mom,” he whined miserably. “That’s totally private. Don’t look at me that way.”
Meg reached for his hand and pulled him against his will into a hug. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, sweetheart. I’m proud of you. You’re taking after the men in my family.”
Noah squirmed away, blushing from his face to his newly hirsute chest. “Mom, it’s so not cool to talk about my body. It’s embarrassing, god…”
“You’re maturing, son,” Meg said tenderly. “It’s a little earlier than I expected, but pretty soon you’re going to…”
“Mom, please! I don’t want to talk about it,” Noah howled, “Dad’s already told me all that stuff. Will you just leave me alone!”
Stung and a little hurt, Meg said, “Okay, Noah. I’m sorry. Here,” she said and held out the jar of Vicks. “Help yourself.” Rebuffed and shamed for reasons she couldn’t name, she felt her eyes tear up at the thought that she was now entering a totally new and alien expanse of the landscape of motherhood. It was territory she had arrived in unexpectedly, and its unwelcoming terrain was disorienting and painful in a way she hadn’t anticipated. A tear made its way down her cheeks and she wiped one away with her free hand.
“Aw Mom,” a thoroughly miserable Noah pleaded. “Please don’t cry. I didn’t mean to make you cry, okay?”
Meg couldn’t fight it off. Noah was her first boy, now she realized he was becoming her first man in a way no other man would ever become again. She choked back a sob and started to get up.
Instantly, Noah stepped up and eased her back into Austin’s chair. Awkwardly, he gave her a hug and whispered near her ear, “I still need you to do my back. Will you do that for me? I really want you to.”
Meg hugged Noah back fiercely and then pushed him away with complete gentleness. At birth he had separated himself from her for the first time. Then, he was no longer a part of her, but she could still hold him and stroke him and admire every part of him with wonder for what she had made. Now, he was wrenching away from her touch in a terrifying new way. Soon she would have almost no intimate contact with the flesh of her flesh. She would be deprived of his touch, and she experienced a visceral ache as though he had physically wrenched himself from her once more.
Yet Noah obligingly turned and offered the suddenly long expanse of his back to her, and she bent to the unchanging tasks of nurture and tenderness, all the while knowing she might never get to return there again.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Asking for a favor
ST. MARK’S COURT
AUSTIN’S FIRST FEW days at work were deeply satisfying, more so, in fact, than he had expected. Even his time-consuming commute offered him a chance to first anticipate his day, then analyze it in a way he’d had no chance of doing when he was stuck working at home. As Austin joined the river of traffic on the turnpike, he felt himself a part of the great roar of commerce of the day. Even the radio stations he flicked between seemed like welcoming old friends who invited him back into the world of the working man.
At the office he was welcomed back as well, but with a kind of deference and an undertone of respect that followed both from his new position and from his reputation as someone who stood up for what was right and not only paid the price for his principles, but was ultimately rewarded for it. Austin was pleased to respond with humility and effortless bonhomie.
At home as well, Austin felt that things had shifted seismic ally in harmony and in his favor. Mrs. Guiterrez seemed to be genuinely delighted to be back looking after the boys, and Noah and Josh slipped easily into the routine of being under her capable hand. Meg, too, seemed to subtly shift in her attitude toward him. Where there had been what he perceived as condescension, she now exuded camaraderie. Where she had been smug and put upon about the demands of working in the world, she now referred to them as a kind of presumed shared experience. And, somehow sensing an element of enhanced manliness in his enhanced status, she seemed to become more deferential to his judgment, authority, and opinion. Austin, in turn, became quicker to solicit her opinion and offered less resistance to the keener points of insight she proffered.
When the phone rang on Friday night, they were sharing one such moment. Meg was patiently explaining the qualities of the paint color for the loft, and Austin was genuinely being persuaded. Having come to see the inherent good sense and good taste in Austin’s impulsive furniture selection, Meg winningly wanted to contribute to the loft’s new look by selecting a paint color for the walls, and she was wisely urging that they get the painting done in the few weeks remaining before the new furniture pieces were delivered. “It’s between papaya and mango,” she explained, ignoring the phone.
“Well, it’s fine by me,” Austin agreed as he loped toward the phone in his office. “As long as you don’t think it’ll be too dark.” Even after managing to locate the phone under the last of his sales paperwork, Austin caught the phone on its third ring. “Hello,” he offered pleasantly.
“Austin? It’s Bruno. Rory and I were wondering if we could come over for a minute. We have something to discuss with you and Meg.”
Austin reflexively gripped the receiver in his hand so hard it hurt the joints in his fingers. Bruno had never called his house before, and Austin could see only one clear reason why he would do so now. His eyes darted nervously around his office as if it leered with evidence of every sexual act he and Rory had performed within its walls. For an entire week, Rory had not crossed his mind once, not in a sexual context or in any other. Now Rory filled his mind with the enormity of a small explosion between his temples.
“Austin? Are you there?” Bruno prompted.
Austin glanced at his watch. It wasn’t even seven thirty; he knew there was no way he could plead the lateness of the hour to forestall the visit. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I got distracted for a minute.”
“So can we step over? We won’t be long,” Bruno insisted firmly.
Austin fought the urge to sigh with resignation. Instead he managed to summon some manly bravado. “Sure,” he said confidently. “Come on, I’ll meet you at the door.”
“Excellent,” Bruno replied confidently. “We’re on our way.”
“Excellent,” Austin seconded, trying his best to sound as casual as he could manage. Once he’d clicked off the phone, he growled, “Shit,” between clenched teeth and walked from his office back into the loft, needlessly closing his office door behind him as if its unwelcome ghosts could follow him to meet Bruno downstairs.
“Who was that,” Meg asked, with her eyes still fixed on a glossy magazine page featuring her preferred paint color as she held it at arm’s length against a wall.
“It’s the guys from next door,” Austin replied noncommittally.
“What on earth do they want?” Meg said and shifted her magazine page to an area by a window.
“They’re coming over for a minute, Bruno said they have something they want to discuss with us,” Austin told her as he walked past her turned back to the head of the stairs.
Behind him, he heard Meg say “Shit, I was just about to get a clear picture in my mind of what this paint color could do for this room, now it’s gone.”
Austin noted that Meg had become less careful in her language of late, and also less quick to discipline the boys for the same laxity. He didn’t know if it reflected an overall slackening of her attempts to keep every detail of their lives under her authority, or if she was finally giving in to a more congenial “if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em” attitude. In either case, it made Austin smile. She had certainly become easier to live with. With a visceral twisting sensation, he walked down the stairs toward Bruno’s anticipated knock and news, wondering at the damage it would do to his wife’s love and trust. In the time it took to get to the front door, he cursed himself for his foolishness with Rory and prayed he wouldn’t be called to account for it.
The doorbell rang as Meg’s soft footfalls stopped behind his shoulder. He turned impulsively and gave her a quick kiss which took her totally off guard. For a moment, she looked almost as if she wanted to wipe at her mouth with the back of her hand, but the look faded as quickly as it bloomed and she took his hand and squeezed it instead. Austin took an audible deep breath and opened the door.
Bruno responded by quickly raising a bottle of champagne. Austin ducked before he could see Bruno’s smile, so sure he was that Bruno was about to break the bottle over his head. “Jesus, Austin!” Bruno laughed, “Chill out. We’ve come to celebrate, not brawl, dude!” With that he laughed deeply and pushed his way past Austin to quickly peck Meg on the cheek.
Rory gave Austin a brief glance and only nodded his head calmly as he followed Bruno’s explosive entrance into the Hardens foyer. “Hello, Meg,” he said warmly and stepped shyly to Bruno’s side.
“Will, have you gone crazy?” Meg exclaimed as she recovered from Bruno’s impetuous peck on the cheek. “What are you up to?”
“Bruno is about to burst to celebrate,” Rory spoke to Austin’s eyes. “He insisted we come to see you to share some good news. I hope we’re not intruding.”
Austin felt as if he’d stumbled into a fight only to find it was a circus parade. Unexpectedly, he was calmed by Rory’s riveting gaze and only nodded at him gratefully.
“Let’s get this bottle open and poured, and I’ll fill you guys in,” Bruno said as the boys tumbled downstairs to check out the hoopla.
“Hello, guys,” Noah said calmly.
“You guys sound like home invasion robbers,” Josh accused.
Bruno responded with a laugh and playfully lunged at him. “We’ve come to steal you! You wanna come live at my house?”
“You can have him,” Noah smirked.
Josh looked from Bruno to his parents and then back again. “Can I have my own computer and an iPod Nano?”
“Whatever you want,” Bruno teased.
“Watch out, Will,” Meg cautioned, “He’ll be packed and waiting at the door when you’re ready to leave.”
“I’ll help him pack,” Noah said.
Josh swallowed uneasily and moved toward his father.
Austin put his arm around him and pulled him to his side. “Sorry, guys. Joshie’s mine. I can’t let you take him. Right, son?”
Relieved, Josh nodded and leveled a long look at Bruno. “Not even for nothing, but you can still give me an iPod if you want to and I’ll come over sometimes.”
“Awww, man,” Bruno groaned.
Meg nodded and smiled. “Okay, boys, you’ve said hello. You should head back upstairs, now. Tell Mr. Griffin and Mr. Fallon goodnight.”
Both boys obliged quickly and trotted back upstairs.
“Okay, Bruno,” Rory urged calmly, “can we tell Meg and Austin what this is all about?”
“Can we still have the champagne, mother?” Bruno teased.
“Let’s go into the family room and get comfortable, guys,” Meg said happily as she shooed everyone inside. “I’ll see if I can find some champagne glasses.”
Austin shot Rory a quick questioning look and was answered only with a pained smile. Once they were in the family room, he steered Bruno into the leather wingback Meg had always intended as Austin’s own domain and sat next to Rory on the sofa. Despite Bruno’s ebullience, Austin preferred to be near Rory if any unpleasant revelations were to surface. Like a child, he wanted to be closest to his partner in crime if there were to be any fingers pointed.
“Champagne?” He asked Bruno as he settled in next to Rory.
“Well, we needed to toast your new job at last, didn’t we,” Bruno said diffidently. “How’s that working out for you?”
Despite his barely concealed nervousness, Austin felt an entirely justified smile tightening his lips. “Very well, thanks. I don’t know if Rory told you, but I returned to my old job, promoted to CFO.”
“He did indeed,” Bruno said as he stretched his hand across the coffee table separating them and took Austin’s in a firm handshake. “All the more reason for champagne, now that you’re a big dog, son.”
Austin returned Bruno’s hard grip with a quick shake and looked up as Meg came into the family room bearing three stemmed wine glasses and a simple tumbler. “I’m afraid we don’t have any champagne glasses,” she said apologetically. “I hope these will do.”
“No problem,” Bruno said placatingly as he tore at the foil over the bottle’s cork. “It’s what’s in the glasses that counts.” With that, he stripped away the foil, crumpled it, and laid it on the coffee table where Meg was arranging the glasses.
“Do I need to get you a dish towel just in case?” Meg said as Bruno twisted the wire that held the cork’s cage in place.
Bruno removed the wire and placed it next to the foil as he gave Meg a confident smile. “No ma’am,” he said. “You don’t need one if you know what you’re doing.” With that, he grasped the bottle by its neck and gently coaxed the cork out until it released with an understated pop. Bruno grinned at Meg and gave her a wink.
“You must have had some practice doing that,” Meg said admiringly.
“Not as much as I’d like,” Bruno said cheerfully as he poured the champagne into the four glasses. When he was finished, he set the bottle on the coffee table and gracefully took the awkward tumbler for himself. He waited until the others had a glass in hand before he raised his own. “To new jobs!”
Every one echoed his toast and clinked glasses all around before sipping at the surprisingly good champagne.
Meg sighed with pleasure and remarked casually, “This is awfully good stuff for a typical Friday night at home, Will. Tell us what’s going on, the suspense is killing me.”
“You said new jobs… plural,” Austin said eagerly.
“That I did,” Bruno said and took another sip at his champagne. “I’ve gotten a promotion. It’s a different set of responsibilities in some ways, but it’s basically doing what I do now, only with a different direction in focus.”
“That’s the good news,” Rory said and sat his glass down on the coffee table.
“There’s bad news?” Austin said anxiously.
“Well, we hope it’s bad news for you guys,” Bruno said cheerfully. “My new base of operations will be Charleston, South Carolina.”
“Oh no,” Meg exclaimed sincerely. “You’re moving?”
“I’m afraid so,” Bruno said seriously. “But I’m happy to see you guys aren’t jumping for joy.”
Austin looked at Rory first, then turned his attention quickly to Meg who came to perch on the sofa’s arm next to him.
“You can’t be serious, Will. We’re very happy you’re moving up, but we’re genuinely sorry to be losing you as neighbors. With the tiniest pause of hesitation, she glanced at Rory and added, “You guys are wonderful.”
“Thanks for that, Meg.” Rory said quietly. Then he said to Bruno, “You better give them the rest of the news.”
Bruno picked up the bottle of champagne and offered it around with a questioning glance at everyone before he freshened their glasses. Only Rory declined. Bruno took another quick sip from his tumbler, then followed it with a deeper swallow. “We’ve sold the house,” he said quickly. “
I’m almost scared I’m going to jinx it even talking about it so soon.”
“But you haven’t even put it on the market,” Meg exclaimed.
“How long have you known this?” Austin asked Rory quietly.
Rory looked from Austin to Bruno, who had cleared his throat in preparation for the longer speech now that the preamble was over. Rory couldn’t believe the look of pure grief Austin had shot him with his question. It was discomfiting and too telling to be faked and disingenuous.
“Do you guys remember getting a flyer letter in your mailbox from a guy in Venetian Vistas looking to buy a place in the neighborhood for his parents?”
“I remember it vaguely, I didn’t pay too much attention to it,” Meg admitted.
Austin shrugged. Now that the reason for this unexpected visit had been revealed, and he realized it had nothing to do with his relationship with Rory, he realized it had everything to do with his relationship with Rory, and he felt suddenly drawn to even the simple body heat Rory radiated just by sitting so close to his side. Where he had been panicked only minutes before at the threat of being found out, he now felt a keener sense of having something he wanted taken away from him. Nervously, he drained the champagne from his glass in a deep draft. The stuff made him lightheaded and deeply sad at the same time.
Rory, for his part, kept his gaze trained on Bruno. After being raked by the rawness of Austin’s emotional glance, he felt hyperaware of the situation between them. It was all he could do not to stand and walk to another chair in the room.
“Well, I’d kept the letter because I felt some change in the wind at work. I gave the guy a call about it after our move became set. It turns out his parents are pretty well off and had already sold their place on Long Island to move down here. Right now, they’re renting a small condo in Boca from some friends of theirs, but they’re anxious to get out here,” Bruno explained happily.
“When?” Austin managed.
“That’s the beauty of it, Austin. They can do a cash deal right away. No realtors, so I was able to give them a little bit off of what I was going to list the place for, but Rory and I need to be out of here by the end of the month.”
