Death of a Bachelor

by M. A. Hinkle

  “You could ask him to tutor you,” Cathal suggested. “You’ve got study hall together, and heaven knows you need help with math.”

  Damon and Felix both turned to stare at him.

  Cathal did not notice. He’d divided his pancake into threes. One part was already covered in applesauce, and he was spreading sour cream on the other. The third he left blank.

  Damon told himself he didn’t want to ask why.

  Then Cathal looked up. Apparently, he’d been truly unaware they were watching him, not pretending for effect. “What?”

  Felix wrinkled his nose. “Yeah, that’s romantic. I’ve heard so many songs about how math is the language of love.”

  “First of all, math and science are sexy. Second, tutoring is a time-tested strategy. It worked for me, and it’s part of how your mom and dad got together, isn’t it?” Cathal gestured at Damon with his fork. Damon raised his eyebrows, daring Cathal to continue.

  Felix looked at Damon, scrunching his face up even further. “But you didn’t go to normal person school, Dad. You’ve got a culinary degree.”

  Damon made a face that was probably similar to Felix’s. He’d never told Felix that story for a reason. And also, he’d assumed Era had talked to him about it. She was fond of turning her experiences into teachable moments. “I tried college for a semester. I didn’t know what else to do with myself, so I thought it’d be a good idea. But I sucked. I only passed English 101 because Era helped me.”

  He had to close his eyes, but that wasn’t bad. She’d looked so good in college. Her hair was cut short then so she wouldn’t have to pull it back for waitressing. Funny what stuck.

  Damon could feel Cathal staring at him, and he didn’t like it. Felix, for his part, looked curious. Unlike most kids, he liked hearing stories about his parents. “She helped me fix up my essays. She pretended I was doing a good job, but I could tell they made her want to puke.”

  “To be fair, it wasn’t entirely your fault,” said Cathal, which was not the comment Damon had expected. But Cathal always remembered he was dyslexic, even though before Era got sick, they’d go weeks without seeing him. Maybe because Felix had inherited it.

  “It wasn’t that. I’m a terrible writer, even without the brain fog, and don’t pretend like I’m not. But she helped me anyway. I couldn’t believe it when I got a B-plus on the final even though I’d already decided I wasn’t coming back to school.” He frowned at the table. He’d nearly forgotten that part of it. Or had suppressed it. At the time, he thought it was the closest he’d ever come to losing the best part of his life. “She was pissed at me. Said I needed an education. She put us on a break, but then she didn’t dump me. I never found out why.”

  “Because I told her it was a stupid idea.” He sounded like he was stating gravity made things fall, the same way he’d told Damon that Era loved him.

  “You spoke up for me?” said Damon, his lips numb.

  “You didn’t know that?” Damon shook his head without feeling it, and Cathal scowled. “For once, I wasn’t trying to throw a wrench in the works.” He flicked hair out of his eyes. “She was all incensed, but I told her it was stupid. Academics were distracting you from food. She just didn’t know how to tell her dad she wasn’t dating a student, and I told her that was a dumb reason to dump the best guy she’d ever met.”

  Damon stared at Cathal, feeling like he’d never seen him before. Cathal ignored him, digging into the sour cream triangle of his pancake and eating as thoughtfully as a man studying a language handbook in a foreign country.

  “Huh,” said Felix, and Damon startled. He’d forgotten his son was the only reason they were discussing this at all. He still couldn’t wrap his head around the idea that Cathal had saved his relationship. Cathal, who wouldn’t piss on him if he were on fire.

  Except…that wasn’t true anymore.

  “I wish you would’ve told me that, Dad,” said Felix. “I like stories.”

  Damon tried to focus on the present moment. Emphasis on tried. Part of him was back on the lawn in front of the student center, his fingers running through Era’s pixie cut as she looked over his work, but most of him was still reeling at the idea that Cathal had ever done anything to help him. “It was embarrassing. Yeah, I went to culinary school, but that was a couple years later. At the time, it felt like a failure.”

  “It was a judicious decision based on your strengths and weaknesses.” Cathal had taken another pancake and was spreading applesauce on this one. Apparently that was the winner. “Some people require a broad base of knowledge to draw on in order to ascertain their true passion. Others know from the start and don’t need a bunch of bullshit cluttering the way. I see too many kids who should be going to technical school wasting their time with a four-year degree because that’s what society expects, not what’s good for them.”

  Damon wanted to think this night couldn’t get weirder. But Cathal could start tap dancing on the table or something.

  Felix stroked his chin, digesting all of this with a thoughtful expression. Damon hoped he wasn’t going to ask any more deep questions. His head hurt enough.

  Then Felix brightened. “So what you’re both saying is that if I wanted to skip college to focus on the LGBT Whatevers, you’d totally support that, right?”

  “No,” said Damon and Cathal at the same time. Damon was glad he was out of surprise for the night, because they kept doing that, and it was weird.

  Cathal set his knife and fork down and held up two fingers. “First of all, that is a terrible band name, and I will continue to say so until the end of time, no matter how successful you get. Second, you’re going to college. You are very talented and don’t need a backup plan for your music, but college allows you to make connections, which get you record deals or concert placements or what the fuck ever you decide to do with your life in the end. That way, you do well in the business instead of flaming out like everyone else who makes a go of it straight out of high school. You will not become a cautionary tale on my watch, young man.”

  Felix whined. “You are so totally not my fun uncle.”

  “I so totally am, and you’ll realize that once you stop being cranky.”

  Damon picked at his food. He felt strange, and he didn’t know why—well, he did, but it was more than simply spending time around Cathal without tearing each other apart. He needed to say something, but he sucked at talking.

  So he settled for smiling at Cathal and saying, “I should keep you around. I don’t have to do any work.”

  Cathal stuck his nose in the air. “I am the funnest uncle. That doesn’t mean I’m not also the pragmatic uncle.” He smirked at Damon. “And I’m way better at giving speeches than you, and that situation warranted a speech. Hence.”

  Felix propped his chin on the table. “Can I be excused? I wanna go up to my room and play Twenty One Pilots really loud.”

  “Why do you need permission to play Twenty One Pilots?” Damon asked.

  “Because he’s trying to annoy us,” Cathal said, smirking around his fork. “It’s his version of slamming his door and listening to Nirvana. Or whatever the kids did while I was listening to George Michael.”

  Felix wrinkled his nose. “Why were you listening to George Michael? I know the eighties were weird and all, but, like, the Talking Heads were on the radio.”

  “Because he’s queerer than a two dollar bill, Felix, and at the time, I was still trying to figure that out. Unlike you, I didn’t have binders full of out performers to pick from.”

  Felix frowned, but then he perked up again. “Well, obviously, I need to focus on my band so future generations never have to worry about role models!”

  “Role models finish school,” said Damon before Cathal could come up with something.

  Cathal glanced at him. “You do realize you deprived me of a chance to make another speech?”

  “That’s why I said it,” Damon replied.

  DAMON HAD FORGOTTEN how nice getting buzzed and watching c
ontestants trash each other was. Era didn’t like TV, so he’d only gotten to do this when she was teaching a night class or out for the evening. He’d take missing food shows in a heartbeat over what had happened, but he was trying to look at the bright side, like she’d told him to.

  He wasn’t sure why he was coming around to the idea that there was brightness left in the world, but he was trying his best. Putting away his photographs had been the right choice. Now he could see his house instead of his past.

  And then, of course, right as he was starting to become one with his couch, he noticed Cathal lurking in the hallway. Damon couldn’t decide if he was annoyed. “I know you’re there. Come in or don’t, but stop being creepy.”

  Cathal came in, his eyes narrowed. “Food Network again?”

  Damon shrugged, keeping his eyes on the TV since Cathal was looking around the room like there were hidden messages written somewhere. “It’s what I’ve got recorded. If you don’t like it, you can go upstairs and write some angry sticky notes.”

  “Just for that, I’m sitting down.” He settled on the far cushion of the couch. Damon passed him a beer in the hopes of keeping him quiet. To his surprise, it worked. Or, at least, Cathal didn’t say anything right away.

  Which was nice, because Damon wanted to watch this one. The contestants were making cake models of famous landmarks, and the techniques on display were really interesting. He’d never watched dessert competitions much—new techniques or flavor combinations were more useful. Now…well, he had to find something to do with himself. Might as well start with this.

  “Okay, this is a cake thing, I get that.” Of course Cathal couldn’t keep his mouth shut. That would’ve been too easy. “So why are they adding Rice Krispies?”

  Damon growled around his beer. “Why are you pretending to care?”

  Cathal looked offended—and not fake offended for effect. “I’m not a cook, but I can’t afford to step around such an obvious hole in my knowledge. What if I go on Jeopardy someday and a question about weird food practices come up? I can’t win if I don’t know the answer.”

  And, of course, Cathal said this all deadpan, so Damon had no idea if he was joking. He let out a loud sigh. “The Rice Krispies add height without adding weight. Like, look at that guy at the end.” He pointed at the fourth table, featuring a model of Buckingham Palace. “That’s all cake, which means it weighs at least eighty pounds. Probably more with all the decorations and the baseboard.” He pointed at the Rice Krispies team, who were working on the Tower of London. “That one will be lighter by a good twenty pounds, and it’ll be more stable since it’s not so top-heavy.”

  Cathal’s frown deepened. “It’s cake, not the Leaning Tower of Pisa.”

  “It’ll fall apart if you didn’t balance it right. I’ve seen it happen to wedding cakes when we catered dinners sometimes. It’s awful.”

  Cathal narrowed his eyes. Damon waited for something nasty, but then Cathal just said, “Food is a lot weirder than I thought,” and took a long drink of his beer.

  THANKFULLY, CATHAL WENT to bed soon after, so Damon could enjoy the silence.

  Only not really. They’d watched two more episodes, and Cathal hadn’t spoken except to ask honest, interested questions. He’d received all of Damon’s answers with grave, thoughtful expressions and occasional follow-ups. Not a single tart word, except when Damon had given him a weird look for…well, for not being weird.

  It was enough to make Damon’s head hurt and definitely enough to keep him from enjoying his buzz. If Cathal seemed like less of a jerk by the day, then Damon had to be drinking too much. He didn’t like it, and he didn’t want to think about it, but he couldn’t stop.

  In the end, he poured his beer down the drain and went to bed earlier than usual. Well, earlier for these days. He used to go to bed around ten. Maybe he could get back in that habit now that he had Cathal’s weird behavior to obsess over instead of everything really wrong with his life.

  Five: Felix Smashes the Patriarchy. Sort of.

  THE NEXT DAY, Damon decided to make an entire cake from scratch. He had all the ingredients, but he’d been putting off getting started, even though Felix would eat anything if you put enough frosting on it, and Cathal… Well, Damon had been waiting for a sharp comment about taking up baking, but it didn’t seem to be on the way, and he needed to get used to it. And also to the idea that no one would criticize him for going outside the box. He’d liked working at Stephen’s, but everyone in a kitchen had a defined role. The executive chef pretended he was willing to wash dishes, but everyone knew that wasn’t true, and that if he ever had to, there’d be hell to pay. And you definitely didn’t cross the pastry and culinary streams.

  That was a gross image. He’d been spending too much time with Cathal.

  Speaking of whom, Cathal came downstairs later than usual, after Felix was already at school and Damon was finished with the batter. Cathal inspected all the bowls like a cat sniffing brand-new litter, but he didn’t say anything, just stole two of the apple cinnamon muffins Damon had left out for him and went back upstairs to shout at his computer.

  Damon didn’t want to admit he felt better after that, but he did.

  DAMON HAD HOPED Cathal would stay in his room until he heard Felix return from school, but of course Cathal was early. Damon focused very hard on cubing the potatoes for boiling. He told himself he did not care what Cathal thought and that the cake was only a way to distract himself until he felt normal again.

  Then he almost cut one of his fingers off, and he had to admit he was nervous.

  Finally, after inspecting the cake from all angles, Cathal said, “This has flowers on it. And pretty blue icing.”

  “You know I’m not color-blind, right?” Damon dropped the potatoes in the water and splashed his face like always. Thankfully, Cathal didn’t notice.

  Cathal put his hands on his hips. “It’s fancy.”

  Damon shrugged, avoiding his eyes. “One of those videos was about making flowers from gum paste. I thought I would try it. I like sculpting, I guess.”

  Cathal was still staring at him, his expression inscrutable, when Felix came bouncing into the kitchen. He jumped up on the counter. “Ooh, cake!”

  “It’s for after supper.” Damon turned his attention to the dishes in the sink. He’d started doing them by hand because it helped him think and wasted time, but now he had more things to do, so he was only keeping it up to see if and when Cathal would say something. Hopefully not yet, since he had yet to think of a good retort if Cathal pointed out that the dishwasher existed for a reason.

  He’d say it that way too, that bastard.

  “Mahhhh,” said Felix, swinging his legs.

  “Please get off the counter before you knock it over,” said Damon without looking in his son’s direction. He knew without checking that Felix was looking at the flowers and considering which one to steal.

  Felix and Cathal both sat down. “You seem happy about something, Felix,” said Cathal. Someday, Damon would ask him how he managed to sound insufferable so subtly. Just enough that you knew he was being a shit, but not enough so you could punch him in the face.

  Not that Damon had felt like punching Cathal lately. Maybe that was the worst thing about Cathal. Sometimes he was nice, and then you felt bad for being mad at him, even though he deserved it.

  Thankfully, Felix provided a distraction. “It worked!”

  “You don’t say,” said Cathal, not bothering to disguise his smirk now.

  Damon turned to watch since he wanted to hear his son talk about this.

  Felix was beaming. “I brought my physics book with me, and I sat next to him and was, like, ‘I don’t get any of this stuff,’ and he didn’t answer me, and I thought he wasn’t going to say anything, but then he took my book and he was, like, ‘You’re going to have to be more specific if you need help.’” Felix paused, his expression falling. “I mean, he still didn’t look me in the eye. But he talked to me! And now I get
vectors, so that’s cool.”

  Cathal leaned back in his chair like a cat in a sunbeam, his lips twitching. “Multitasking. I approve.”

  Damon crossed his arms. Not that he wanted to burst Felix’s bubble, but if he had learned anything, it was not to let bad things hide. “What about the boy who was rude to you? His brother?”

  Felix deflated. “He’s still a jerk. He sat there making snarky comments the whole time.” Felix perked up. “But then Morgan turned to him and said, ‘If you’re not going to be helpful, you can leave,’ and Gareth shut up! He went all red and spluttered and everything.” Felix rubbed his nose, his eyes narrowing in thought. “He apologized to me after school. I dunno what that means.”

  Cathal made a face. “His brother probably strong-armed him into it. Pay no mind. Apologies are for the weak.”

  Damon’s attention snapped to Cathal. “Apologies are important.” He glanced at Felix to make sure his son was listening too.

  Felix screwed up his face. “But you’re always saying actions are louder than words.”

  “Yes, but it’s hard to say you were wrong.” Damon turned back to the dishes to hide his expression, since he wasn’t sure what he looked like. “Even if you make up for what you did, the other person might never know that you feel bad about it. If he apologized, that means he thought about what he said and realized it was important enough to make up for it.”

  “Or his brother hit him.” Cathal’s voice was innocent. Damon couldn’t tell if he was doing it on purpose. “That’s how Era got me to apologize.”

  Damon glanced over his shoulder, glaring at Cathal. “That’s because you’re… What did she always call you?”

  “A reprobate? Ne’er-do-well? Hooligan?” Felix suggested, leaning back in his chair.

  “Don’t help him!” Cathal yelped. “Whose side are you on, young man?”

  “Obviously Dad’s, since he made cake,” Felix replied, trying and failing to look smug.