“You look like a suicide bomber.”
Jay found him first. He clapped a hand on Tom’s shoulder, making him jump.
“Or like I have the plague.” Tom’s smile had been masked by the scarf. He’d known something was wrong with him at that stage, but they’d only started digging into the issue. It’d been too early to confirm anything other than he wasn’t contagious.
“You can breathe unfiltered air. There’s no one else here but me.”
“At the final show? Really?”
“If you’d let me know you were coming, I could’ve told you that. I would have arranged for you to sit with me, instead of alone.”
“I don’t mind being alone.”
“But you look God-awful in hats, Tom.” Jay pulled the cap from his head and handed it to him with a grin. When Tom took it, Jay again put his hand to his shoulder. “Do you want to meet him?”
“No.”
“Isn’t that why you came? Why you’re waiting?”
“I just wanted to watch.” Tom turned from his friend as he heard the double doors of the auditorium open. “There’s nothing to be gained by meeting him.”
Actors and actresses emerged in clumps. The other members of the audience who had waited for them began to clap as if they were taking another curtain call. Jay’s reply was lost in the eruption of applause when Luke came through the door, the leading actress on his arm.
Luke had been unable to hide the pleasure in his eyes at having all attention on him, and he’d put up his hand to acknowledge their praise. Although the boy had tried to remain dignified and calm, Tom could tell from the way he lifted the heels of his shoes and tapped his fingers on the actress’s arm that he wanted to jump out of his skin with pride.
This was how I felt after that last performance at the Rudolfinum. Swarms of people cheering. It’s a drug. It’s mainlining heroin. There’s never enough. Veneration and unbridled acclaim for your talent—it’s the most fantastic feeling there is.
“You’ve got to get him out of here. It’s time.” Tom had nudged Jay without looking from Luke. “He can’t keep doing stock theater shit. He has enough experience in his portfolio that he can apply for school or go to a larger venue. He could start earning his Equity card.”
“I’m talking to him about it tonight. How long will you be around?”
“I fly back tomorrow.”
“You always make these trips short. Unexpected and short. I spent over a year with you, but you can’t spare me a couple days?”
“I’m a very busy man,” Tom lied. He tucked the baseball cap in his coat and shoved his hands in his pockets. Luke had put his arm around the actress and given her a kiss on the cheek. He wondered if that was for show. Did Luke like this girl? Wouldn’t Jay have mentioned the boy having a girlfriend? Maybe he did though, and they were in love. Perhaps he’d marry her, and Tom could secretly attend another wedding. That would be nice.
You’re not dying, Tom. Don’t be stupid, he’d assured himself. You’re sick, but you’re not dying. You have plenty of time to watch them. And someday you’ll meet them, under the right circumstance. But not right now.
“I’ll call you after I talk to him. We’ll have a drink, yes?”
He abruptly turned his face and brought the scarf over his mouth as Luke’s eyes centered on Jay and he waved. Tom took two quick steps away before realizing how conspicuous the action was. Thankfully, Luke’s attention had been diverted as a member of the cast started to belt a bubblegum song a cappella.
“Yes?” Jay’s hand squeezed his shoulder again.
“Yes, but go.”
“You’re not a leper.”
“That you’re aware of.”
Tom had exited quickly, once again leaving, having not spoken a word to Luke. He’d only observed, silent in the background. Only listened. Regardless of what went on. Until now.
✩
His heart froze.
Your phone voice is different than your voice in person. Or your singing voice. All this advanced technology, and people still don’t sound the same over the phone.
“Then you probably also know the purpose of my call.” Luke ended the sentence with a cough.
“That, I’m completely unaware of,” Tom replied. “Do tell.”
What might it be? And what had prompted Jay to finally tell Luke the truth? Jay had always been adamant about not revealing anything to Luke or his sister. If Tom had accepted the offer to “meet him” a year ago, he knew it would have been meaningless. Jay would introduce Tom as a friend; Tom would shake the boy’s hand, and that would be it. But if Luke was now aware of his existence, something must’ve been disclosed.
Perhaps Jay really knew how sick he was. When they talked last week, had the weariness come across in his voice? Had Jay guessed? And having guessed, had he decided it would be nice for Tom to know the boy through more than stories, photographs, and the occasional stalking? Maybe Jay’s conscience had driven him to take the chance that his children would understand.
But I’m not sure I want that. And it’s fucked-up that you’d do this without talking to me first. Not that it’s out of your character to do some pretty fucked-up things.
He wished he had time to think the proposition over. If he accepted, he wanted to plan how to proceed and how much to invest with the amount of time he had left.
It’s a kind offer, but it’s too late to forge relationships. I don’t give a fuck. Tom grimaced and ran his hand through his hair. I’m dying, Jay. You don’t know how that is. It’s burden enough without having this thrown at me spur of the moment, jackass. Besides contact with you, I just want to be left alone.
On the other end of the line, Luke answered Tom’s question with his voice crackling.
“I’m sorry to tell you this, Mr. DuBelle, but he’s gone.”
“He’s gone? Who’s gone?”
“Dad. He passed away this afternoon.”
Tom’s stomach dropped, and a chill shot through his core. Of all the ways he’d imagined his first conversation with Luke, this wasn’t one of them.
“There must be some mistake.”
“Believe me, sir, we wish there was.”
“He can’t be dead! He wasn’t in bad health. I just talked to him last week. He’s not an old man. He’s only fifty years old!”
But you’re only forty-eight, Tom. Tears burned his eyes, and his breathing became heavy. The density of the air seemed to grow. His chest hammered as if he were bench pressing while being compressed in a strait jacket. And you’re not going to make it to forty-nine.
“It was sudden.”
Luke choked, the emotion apparent in his voice. A strong feeling of compassion for the boy eased the pressure of the laces and pushed back Tom’s grief. As hard as Jay’s death was for Tom, how much more difficult it must be for Luke? Especially since it was unexpected. Things could be easier if they were anticipated and planned for. Luke would’ve become accustomed to not having his father anymore. But to have him ripped away? And it was so soon after Luke had returned from New York after being away for a year. Presumably, the boy had patched things with Jay prior to his death.
“How are you holding up? And Beau?”
“As well as could be expected.” Luke sounded surprised by Tom’s question. “I was asked to call and let you know.”
“Asked by whom?”
“By him.”
Not that it could’ve been anyone else. No one had been aware they’d kept in close communication, even Jay’s wife. The revelation of his past must’ve been a deathbed confession made at the brink of the abyss. It didn’t matter what Luke thought after he was dead. Jay wouldn’t be around to worry about it. At his death, Jay’s ideal world was forever crystallized.
More likely, after twenty-six years of keeping his children in the dark, the admission had been in a moment of desperation. Tom knew Jay only would’ve ended the silence under extreme duress. What could be more pressure than dying? And it wasn’t Tom’s imminent
death that had pulled the trigger.
Pretend you’re one of those bright-side, blue-sky bastards, Tom. He gritted his teeth. There are two things to be grateful for: he didn’t carry that secret to the grave, and I’m off the hook. I don’t have to tell him I’m dying. Concentrate on that. I can evaporate, and no one will miss me.
But he knew that wasn’t true. With Jay telling the truth, Tom’s presence had been revealed. He still had unfinished business. God-fucking-damn it.
“Do you know when the funeral is yet?”
“Don’t worry. I just promised I’d let you know.”
“I’m coming. Don’t be ridiculous.”
Tom would do whatever necessary in order to travel. He’d stop the meds that prolonged his pathetic existence, but had the cute, fluffy bonus of nausea. He’d force his doctor to give him a stronger pain prescription. He had to see his friend one last time. He had to say good-bye to Jay.
It was a lesser priority, but he could also build a fakey-fakey bond with Luke, if that’s what the boy wanted. He wouldn’t permit either of them to get too close. Small talk. He’d ask Luke what he’d been up to in New York over the past year and offer whatever advice he could on performing and auditioning. Or if Luke had decided to go to school, Tom could help him compile his application.
I wonder where he’ll try to go. Now that it’s in the open, I could pull strings. There’s nothing preventing me anymore.
And, yes, Tom would listen to Luke express his sorrow about the loss of his father. The same went for Beau. He wouldn’t tell them he was dying, and he’d let them think he’d wanted to be nothing more than an aloof shadow in their lives. Warm, but not too warm. One-armed, crisp hug. Three-second handshake. And he’d desperately try not to focus on how much the boy resembled Jay. Their likeness would suck him into a black hole from which he’d never be able to emerge.
The children wouldn’t be told anything about him and Jay beyond what they might already know. Which he doubted was much. No amount of dying could’ve driven that information from Jay.
Afterward, he’d fly home, all parties satisfied. And he’d overdose on the meds. That would be the perfect time to do it. He’d be dead before an emotional investment could develop into any profound connection.
“No, really. Don’t.”
“Why not?”
“Mr. DuBelle—”
“Tom.”
“I was only to call and advise you. I don’t think you should come. It would upset people.” Luke took a breath. “Dad wanted me to tell you, and I’ve done that. I can’t see what good could come of any contact.”
“You’re specifically asking me not to come for the funeral?”
“Yes. I am.” Luke stumbled in hesitation, and Tom waited to reply. “I’m sorry it has to be this way, Tom.”
“Are you really?”
“Yes. I don’t agree with all his actions, or the secrecy, but I will honor his wishes. He asked for you to be notified. That’s all.”
Tom considered giving a cocky response. If Jay hadn’t explicitly prohibited his attendance, there was no violation of his request. And he knew Jay wouldn’t have forbidden him. He’d never technically barred Tom from visiting. They’d just come to the consensus that it wasn’t the best arrangement. Tom kept his distance except on rare occasions when he was able to blend into the crowd. He contemplated telling Luke this fact as well.
I’ve already been there, and neither of you knew. I saw you graduate. I watched Beau get married. I was in the dress circle of your final performance the night you had that fight with your dad. And I saw more than you may think.
But he said nothing. He heard the quaver in the boy’s voice and could almost read Luke’s thoughts, pleading for him to not push. Let him off the line to proceed with the grueling task of burying his father.
Tom also felt the underlying emotion behind the words. It was the ultimate tempering factor—loyalty. Luke was misinterpreting Jay’s direction, and his excuses were bullshit, but the sentiment came from faithfulness and love. Two emotions Tom felt strongly in regards to Jay.
Tom decided to say, “You’re a good son.”
He heard Luke suck in several quick gasps at a distance from the phone. When the boy spoke again, the tightness in Luke’s throat brought his voice an octave higher. “Thank you. He was the only father I’ve ever known.”
There was silence until Luke continued in a stronger tone. “Anyway, it was nice talking with you. I’m sorry for your loss; I know how close you were.”
“You could call again sometime, if you like.”
“I don’t think so. But take care of yourself. Good-bye, Mr. DuBelle.”
“Tom.”
“Good-bye, Tom.”
“Good-bye, Luke.” By the time Tom said it, the call had already disconnected.
Tom dropped the phone, and the back panel popped off, the battery skidding across the bathroom floor. He took steady breaths to lessen his queasiness.
Jay was dead, and he might as well not have revealed the secret to Luke. Yes, the boy had cared enough to call and notify Tom; however, he didn’t want anything to do with him. Not that Tom was convinced he could’ve reciprocated, but a part of him was hurt that their first and only contact had been nothing more than a chore. And now Luke had washed his hands of him. He was a devoted son who’d done his duty.
Tom had been right; he had no unfinished business. The only person who cared if he lived was gone. The only person who he cared if they were alive was dead. Jay was the most crushing loss. Again. But Jay wasn’t moving two thousand miles away and disappearing into a new life. That had been difficult, but knowing he was out there—in a place where Tom could occasionally visit—made it tolerable, if he kept busy. Jay had still been within reach. Now Tom was unequivocally alone.
I should do it right fucking now. Walk into the kitchen and take every pill I have. Tears streamed down his cheeks. Do it before all the pain sinks in, and it becomes real that he’s gone. You have to. If you don’t, you’ll die alone, Tom. Alone, caked in your own shit, with some hospice bitch hoping you kick it quick so she can leave early. You don’t want that.
Tom drew himself onto his knees and placed his palms on the cold tiles. He tried to summon the strength to get to his feet, but putting his weight on one leg to rise made his head spin. He picked up the phone and its battery, tucking them into his pocket. Pushing aside the shame of his degradation, he crawled from the bathroom like an animal.
His living room was only yards down the hall, but he wheezed as he reached the doorframe. He held his breath when the pinpricks went up the back of his neck.
I’m not going to throw up on the floor.
The vertical blinds covering the windows were rotated open. Afternoon sun poured in through the sheer fabric attached to the vanes; the light cascaded over an ebony grand piano, the room’s centerpiece. The lid was closed, and several frames rested on its surface. Across the room, another hallway led to the kitchen. He could make it there once he caught his breath. And after enough time lying on the floor, he’d be able to retrieve the pills from the cupboard.
He turned cautiously on his side and curled his arm under his head. As he waited for his heart to stop pounding, he squinted at the pictures adorning the piano. His vision blurred the finer details, but he saw the faces.
I forgot to ask what happened. I hope it was quick. And if you were aware of it, I hope you weren’t alone.
In whatever context or circumstance though, Jay’s death wasn’t fair. Not just to Tom, but to Jay himself, and to his now-fatherless children.
I know, I know, life isn’t fair. But you weren’t ready to die. And those kids weren’t ready to lose you. Beau will be okay, she has her husband. But Luke needed you. I told you that you should’ve trusted them and been honest. That’s a fairness you could’ve controlled but chose not to.
He thought of what Luke had said on the phone—“I don’t agree with all his actions, or the secrecy.”
Did y
ou really mean what you said after that?
Tom picked over the conversation in his head. It was possible Luke meant every word literally, but it also seemed plausible that more could’ve been implied. He’d said he was “sorry it had to be this way.” Wasn’t that the same as saying “I wish it could be another way?” How did Luke want it? Tom was no longer curious, but the boy might be. Perhaps Luke wanted him to come, but he was wary of a scene with his mother. If Luke didn’t know of the times Tom had been there, he might not understand how he could be invisible—and he had no intention of starting a fight with anyone. Maybe Luke was being reasonably careful about a man he didn’t know.
But I’m the one who’s dying. I need to think of what I want to do. It’s not whether I should or shouldn’t go. And it’s not about him. It’s a free country. I’ll do whatever I want.
Tom ran through the times he’d been there over the past twenty-six years. He remembered again Luke’s final show and seeing the grin on the boy’s face. He thought of sitting at the corner table, while Jay had the father-daughter dance with Beau at her wedding reception. Watching both children receive their diplomas at the podium as he lurked in the back row. At every opportunity, he’d chickened out on sharing even innocent words with them. Random people shook their hands, but Tom couldn’t. There was something sacred, something pristine and golden about Jay’s children that he’d soil by infiltrating any more than he had.
But that was okay, he told himself. I didn’t feel bad. I liked watching them. To see success, to pretend things had been different made me happy. And I did mean to someday break the silence. Even if they didn’t know who I was, I’d look them in the eye. “Hello, I’m Tom.”
Perhaps that was another reason why Jay had asked Luke to call him. The funeral would be Tom’s last chance. Jay had been his only connection to what happened in their lives. He’d never again be apprised of any important events, including those he was already aware of on the horizon.
This is your way of forcing me to accomplish my bucket list. Tom turned on his back. It’s true, now that they know, I’ll regret it. Unless I kill myself right now. You don’t want them to see you like this anyway, Tom. You’re barely human anymore. If I can get into that kitchen before thinking any further—
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