It took hours before Seth felt able to talk about what Eric had shared, yet Seth had to speak about this notion, one that Dr. Sellers fully agreed with. Seth also felt the hawk had altered, for no longer could Seth make out more than normal sounds coming from the bird of prey. And as he’d tried to talk to Eric, the bird had stared at him quizzically. Yet, at dinnertime, the bird remained outside of Seth’s window. Seth didn’t share those details with his doctor; he wanted to observe the hawk before reporting his findings.
Seth still needed to tell one other about this…. It was a revelation to Seth, and was it that simple, to accept forgiveness then walk away from such malicious deeds? But how else to move forward, Dr. Sellers had noted, not in a facetious tone, only as a matter of fact, for Seth now sat at a crossroads. He no longer felt culpable, didn’t wish to kill himself, and he wanted to leave. He also wanted Eric to head home, but this had to be about Seth’s health. And for the first time in his life, Seth could breathe freely, not feeling bound to any cause, creed, or catastrophe. He pondered that while he ate supper, then gazed out his window. The hawk remained, staring into the starry sky.
Enough light shone from Seth’s room, how he made out that majestic figure in the courtyard. “You don’t know me anymore, do you?”
The hawk didn’t turn, although it might have blinked. Seth sighed, then he placed his hands on the window. “But you’re still here, why’re you still here?”
The bird made no attempt to acknowledge the questions. Now Seth was certain the hawk was only a creature, and for a moment Seth felt incredible loneliness. But as the bird gazed at the window, Seth smiled. “I suppose you weren’t gonna be able to be Eric forever. But why haven’t you gone home?”
Seth considered that while the hawk pecked at the ground. “Is it because I’m still here? You stayed with your father until it got cold, but it doesn’t really get cold in Miami. Or maybe you knew he wasn’t gonna be released, is that it? But I am, I’m….” Seth shivered as a new idea passed through his mind. “I’m gonna get outta here, and then we’ll leave together, that’s it, isn’t it? Oh well then, no pressure on me, huh?” Seth smiled, then chuckled, which caught the bird’s attention. They stared at each other and while Seth ached for the loss of Eric’s consciousness, he felt relieved that someone, or rather something, was still keeping watch over him. “I need to tell Laurie,” Seth whispered, then he sighed. “No need to keep quiet, I mean, Jesus Christ.” Seth sat in the chair near the window. Then he chuckled, which turned into laughter. The bird looked up, but only seemed startled by the sound.
“This’s how I’m getting outta here,” Seth said. “I told Dr. Sellers that I might have to tell him that you’re actually just a bird, and by God, now you are. And you know what’s really nuts? I think he’ll believe me. Jesus Christ, how crazy are we all now?”
The hawk returned to pecking at the concrete, and Seth watched him for a minute. Then he glanced at the door. The orderly would come for his tray in another ten minutes and Seth would ask if the doctor was still around. If he was, Seth would call Laurie, he had to tell his cousin what had happened that day. Seth didn’t realize what day it was, other than it was the first of the rest of his life. He had things to do, although he had no idea what they were, except that he needed both hands available. Then he trembled, thinking of sitting in front of clay. He gazed at the window, but it was too dark to see the hawk. “Open hands you said. You said I needed open hands, oh my God!” Inspecting his palms, Seth didn’t see anything painful. Making a fist, he squeezed hard, then he shook it out. Again he glanced at his hands, then cracked his knuckles. Then he stood, laughing softly, hoping Dr. Sellers was still in the building.
As Laurie sipped his drink in the library, he wondered if Seth realized the significance of the date. Their phone call hadn’t lasted more than five minutes, as Seth had called Laurie collect. Seth had told his cousin that while the hawk was still in Miami, no longer was it cognizant about having been a human being. That intriguing fact had been secondary, however, although Laurie wasn’t sure which piece of news had hit him harder, for Seth claimed that he was almost ready to leave the hospital. That right before the hawk forgot it was Eric, it had told him…. Laurie finished his drink, shutting his eyes tightly. The message should have calmed Laurie, for it certainly had provided Seth with abundant peace. Seth had sounded so assured, happy even, although he admitted he missed Eric. But very soon, perhaps in the next couple of weeks, both would be heading home. Laurie had taken measured breaths while Seth spoke, not sure about anything, even if Seth sounded so…. Laurie stood, refreshing his drink. Seth had sounded like a man on the cusp of liberty. Yet, why was Laurie getting drunk if Seth was nearly healed?
A scab had been ripped from Laurie’s chest as soon as the operator asked if Laurie would accept the charges. After calling Lynne on Monday, Laurie had attempted to live without any thoughts about Florida or hawks or…. He had nearly told Stan the truth, their argument still lingering, although no more had been said by either. It was how they tiptoed around each other, and how Laurie had spent the last few evenings by himself in the library, each night drinking a little more than the last. Now on Halloween, Laurie might get plastered, maybe waking in this room tomorrow morning. Stan would be livid, but if Seth was correct, the façade would only last another fortnight.
Laurie pounded that gin and tonic, then nearly poured himself another. Gripping the gin decanter, he only hesitated due to weariness. He was indeed exhausted, although how much of that was alcohol induced? Yet there seemed not enough booze in the world to wash away the most unholy truth, and if Seth was right, now what did it matter? If that hawk wasn’t Eric anymore, why the hell was it still there? Maybe in the morning, Seth would find himself alone, and perhaps tomorrow night he would call again, telling Laurie the hawk hadn’t been spotted all day. Laurie wouldn’t call Lynne immediately; it might take him a few days to sober up and he needed to be quite sure of Eric’s absence. Then Laurie opened the decanter, pouring himself a generous measure of gin. He added an equal amount of tonic water, taking a long gulp. His throat burned, but his brain was still aware. He would get very drunk that night, to hell with everyone else.
Stanford had stayed late in the office, not wishing to argue with his partner, plus there had been work to do associated with the landscape which would be shipped from the West Coast next week. Stanford had avoided calling Sam, but finally the men spoke, just as Sam and Renee were leaving to take their children trick or treating. Stanford apologized profusely, but Sam was jovial, noting that while they would miss that painting, its sale was for a very good cause. Stanford had tried to only pay attention to Sam’s words, but youngsters’ squeals could be heard in the background alongside Renee telling those children that Daddy was on the phone. Stanford had been pierced by her voice, for all he could conjure was where was Eric? Stanford had no idea if Jane was dressing up that night, would Lynne join the Aherns? Sam didn’t say, but he thanked Stanford for all of the dealer’s hard work. Then Sam wished him a Happy Halloween, telling Stanford to give Laurie his best.
Now at home, Stanford grimaced, for Laurie was sprawled across the library sofa, smelling of gin. Stanford wondered if Agatha had seen this coming, or had Laurie waited until she’d left. Stanford wouldn’t ask her, pretending this hadn’t happened. Tomorrow morning he would wake alone, leaving Laurie to his hangover. It would be a doozy, Stanford knew, not even Agatha’s good coffee a remedy.
Exiting the library, Stanford closed the door behind him. Then he looked back, feeling a chill. He wanted to shut Laurie away, but that wouldn’t behoove either of them. Stanford returned to the closed door, opening it a crack. Stanford listened, but didn’t hear Laurie’s drones. The few times Laurie had gotten this drunk, he snored like a train. For a moment Stanford wondered if his lover was breathing. Then Laurie coughed roughly, making Stanford jump. Maybe he wasn’t that drunk, although the smell of gin had been overpowering. Yet Laurie had been drinking every night that week, p
erhaps he was trying to blot out…. “Are you all right?” Stanford said softly, still standing just outside the doorway.
Laurie coughed again, then mumbled something, but Stanford couldn’t make out the words. He longed to go to Laurie’s side, embrace him, then tenderly lead him to their room. Something was deeply troubling that man, yet Stanford remained where he was. “Laurie, are you okay?”
If Stanford entered the library, Laurie would just shout at him, well, he wouldn’t raise his voice too loudly, but the tenor of their discourse would be as prickly as on Sunday. The men had never been so far apart, although all Stanford had to do was step into that room, approach Laurie, then…. What Stanford actually needed to do was call Lynne, ascertaining Eric’s whereabouts, then that man’s prognosis. If Stanford would simply ask, all of this with Laurie would disappear.
Laurie knew more than he was admitting, and accepting that made Stanford’s stomach ache. Even if Laurie’s reasons were to shield Stanford…. That statement had plagued Stanford all week: You have no idea how I’ve tried to protect you. Yet Stanford wasn’t a child, he didn’t need to be lied to, what Laurie had been doing. Stanford didn’t blame Lynne, but Laurie was blatantly withholding facts. Now Stanford grew angry and as Laurie coughed again, this time with less force, Stan entered the library, turning on the light. Then he trembled; Laurie looked like a skid row bum, still stretched across the sofa, his shirt halfway unbuttoned, the stench of gin rising from him. Had Laurie been ill, was that why the smell was atrocious, or had festering untruths soured Stanford’s view of this man. Stanford glanced across the room at the telephone, then a crooked smile formed on his face. “I’ll give you five minutes. If you don’t tell me what’s going on, I will call Lynne.”
Laurie blinked, then grimaced. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Try me.”
Laurie struggled to sit up, then he bent over. Stanford wondered if Laurie would vomit on the carpet, in which case Agatha would then have to be told about this unpleasantness. Stanford wasn’t sure which he loathed more, the idea of calling Lynne or having to share this with anyone else, even Agatha. “Tell me the truth Laurie or I swear I’ll call her.”
“Oh for God’s sake Stan, it’s fucking Halloween!” Laurie looked up, meeting Stanford’s gaze. “Leave her alone, she’s never done anything to you.”
For a moment, Stanford was furious, Laurie’s foul language a part of Stan’s anger. Then Laurie’s plaintive tone hit Stanford like a hammer. Against his better judgement, he walked to the sofa, then knelt in front of Laurie. “Please tell me the truth. If you love me….”
Laurie shook his head, then he swooned. “Oh my God,” he sighed, leaning against the back of the sofa. “Stan, not tonight. For the love of God, just let this go.”
“Is he dead?” Stanford tried to keep an even tone, but his voice cracked upon that last word. “I talked to Sam today, just about the painting. He was fine, I mean….” Were Laurie and Lynne keeping this from more than only Stanford? “Please, just tell me the truth.”
“The truth, the truth….” Laurie sat up, then wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “You’d never believe the truth.”
“Of course I’d believe….” Again anger stirred in Stanford’s gut, yet he took a deep breath, then reached for Laurie’s hand, which was warm. Rage bubbled within Stanford, for Laurie was very inebriated. “Just tell me, I can take it.”
“You can take it, uh-huh.” Laurie gripped Stanford’s hand, then smiled. “You think that now. That’s what I thought too. I’m sure it’s what Sam thought when he learned the news. But it’s impossible, it’s fucking beyond the pale.” Now Laurie shivered, taking his hand from Stanford’s, caressing that man’s face. “Jesus Christ, you have no idea what you’re asking.”
“What?” Stanford removed Laurie’s hand, then abruptly stood. “What in the hell are you on about?”
“He’s a hawk Stan, and boy now he’s really a hawk.” Laurie had a sarcastic chuckle. “How the hell am I gonna tell Lynne?”
Stanford stared at Laurie, who kept laughing, although the tone was eerie. “Stop this nonsense and tell me what’s wrong with Eric.”
Laurie looked up, all traces of mirth gone from his face. “That is the truth Stan. Eric is that hawk. He’s been in Miami since the middle of July. Seth called me today, said that now Eric doesn’t remember being a…human being.” Laurie stumbled on those words. Then he cleared his throat. “He’s just a hawk, not sure how much longer he’ll stay down there before he heads home.”
For several seconds Stanford’s entire body writhed in pain; not only was Seth beyond help, but Laurie had succumbed to madness. Then as Laurie made the effort to stand, Stanford grew angry. Laurie was drunk, his words borne of that thoughtless state. “You’re too smashed to make any sense. I’m not going to listen to any more of this….”
As Stanford turned to leave, Laurie grabbed his right arm. “Oh you’re staying right here. You wanted the truth, so here it is. Eric turns into a hawk and….”
“Stop this!” Stanford tried to free himself, but Laurie possessed greater strength, even if he wasn’t sober. “Let go of me right now!”
“I’m not that drunk, see?” Laurie maintained his grip, taking a deep breath. “I was worse off when I told Agatha….”
“What, more insane bullshit?” Stanford rarely swore, but he couldn’t help it. “That’s it, I’m calling Lynne. I am sick and tired of….”
Laurie released Stanford’s arm. “Don’t do it Stan. I promise you don’t wanna call her.”
“Why?” Stanford had stomped to the phone. “You don’t want me knowing the truth?”
“I’ve told you the truth. Where do you think he was all those times he was missing? There weren’t any artists’ retreats, no mistresses. He flew to see his dad, and I mean he flew.” Laurie made swooping gestures with his arms, then broke into laughter. “I’m not shitting you. Eric’s a hawk and….”
“Stop this!” Stanford pounded the desk, rocking the phone in its cradle and making his hand ache in the process. “Damnit Laurie, why can’t you just….”
“Why can’t I just what? Why would I say these things if they weren’t true? Don’t you think I know how fucking crazy I sound, God, I wanted to knock Seth into next week when he brought this up and….”
“Oh, so Seth told you this.” Stanford nodded, then laughed. “Well if Seth said it, then of course I believe you. Eric’s a hawk, in Miami, you say. Now it all makes sense.” Stanford shook his head. “Why in God’s name would he say something so outlandish and why the hell would you believe such crap?”
“Lynne confirmed it Stan. I didn’t believe him until I spoke to her.”
Stanford trembled for the weight of Laurie’s statement and the tone of his voice, as if he wanted anything else in the world to be true. “What do you mean, Lynne confirmed it?”
“Why do you think I went to see her? I love you, all I wanted was to come home. But I had to talk to her in person, I had to….” Laurie approached Stanford, but left a few feet between them. “I know it sounds fucking impossible, but it’s the truth. Eric left me a message, two of them,” Laurie sighed. “He’s been turning into a hawk since he was a kid, who knows if it’s because of what his dad did to him, but….”
“Don’t say another word.” Stanford wanted to be ill, and he shook so badly, he wondered if he might fall down. He gripped the side of the desk, then gazed at the floor. The carpet sparkled, or was he going blind too? “Laurie, do you even hear yourself?”
“Yeah Stan, I do. I didn’t want it to come to this, I never wanted to….”
Stan faced him. “You didn’t want to lie to me, hurt me, make me wanna….” Never in all their years together had Stanford wished to be apart from this man. “You’re crossing the line Laurie. Now tell me what’s happened to Eric.”
Laurie took two steps, standing at Stanford’s side. Then he stroked Stan’s cheek. “I can’t stop it, just like he can’t stop changing. I’m sorry Stan,
I am so goddamned sorry, but this is the truth. Oh Jesus baby, please just….”
“Get out. I cannot be around you right now.” Stanford moved from Laurie’s touch. Then, still grasping the desk, he walked to the back side, seating himself in the large leather chair. He kept his eyes on the wood, but folded his hands in his lap. “I mean it, you need to leave.”
“Are you throwing me out?” Laurie said softly.
Now Stanford looked up, yet he couldn’t meet Laurie’s gaze. “Yes I am because what you’re implying is more hurtful than you can imagine. Why you would do this to me, I can’t begin to fathom.”
“Sam didn’t throw his wife to the street, but whatever you want Stan.” Laurie’s voice trembled, then he took a deep breath. “I’ll stay in hotel tonight,” he added, taking halting steps toward the door. Then he turned around. “Agatha has no idea, just so you know. And just so you know, I do love you. I never wanted to hurt you.”
“You’re a lying bastard.”
Laurie glanced at the floor, then he shrugged. “I hope you get some sleep tonight. I’ll be in touch.”
Stanford seethed as Laurie left the room, but Stanford didn’t move until he heard Laurie close their front door, which didn’t take as long as Stanford imagined. Once he was certain Laurie was gone, Stanford stood, but he didn’t need to grasp the desk for support. He walked to the trolley where several decanters waited, clean glasses beside them. Choosing the bottle of gin, Stanford filled half of a glass. He studied the contents, gritting his teeth. Then he hurled the tumbler across the room, inwardly screaming Laurie’s name.
Chapter 150
The Hawk: Part Eight Page 14
