Boy

by James Stryker

  “Why would he worry about me more? I’m weaker? I’m not as good?”

  “No. On top of the other reasons I’d think would cause a father to be concerned for his son, he wanted so much for you—”

  “He wanted me to be him. To forget what I wanted to do and carry on beside him like an obedient son.”

  “One more.” Tom kept his voice steady and didn’t turn around. “If you cut me off one more time, I’ll throw you out. And no amount of sniveling will persuade me to let you back in. I’ll call the police.”

  The only response was his adagio playing of the “Moonlight Sonata.”

  Why do you want to stay? Answers to your questions? Perhaps you have nowhere else to go? But if Jackie kicked you out, there’s New York. So what do you really want? He viewed the boy’s reflection in the window. Why are you trying to keep yourself in check?

  “Anyway,” he continued at last, “Jay is the last person who’d demand conformity of anyone. The only expectation he had was for you to do something with your life. The only pressure was for you to get off your ass. He would’ve done anything to support you. He wanted the world for you, Luke. Yet you had no ambition, no desire to take it. You were complacent with mediocrity.”

  “But when mediocre is all you are.” Luke slouched farther on the couch and trailed into incoherent mumbles.

  “Then you fix it. You don’t settle for second best. Your dad understood that because of what he went through. When you know who you are and what you want, you have to try and take it. And you were never going to try if he didn’t say anything.”

  “He didn’t know that. I could’ve been waiting for the right time.”

  “Another edited history. You told him. I was there. I heard you.”

  ✩✩✩

  Over a year ago, Tom had been two vodka tonics in and spinning a peanut shell on the lacquered bar, when he noticed Jay’s voice behind him.

  “Here is fine,” Jay said.

  It was good that the conversation hadn’t taken as long as Tom expected. Being halfway through his third vodka, he’d begun to feel drowsy. Jay would keep him awake by spending the first fifteen minutes admonishing him for drinking too much.

  Liver cirrhosis could cause pain in that particular vicinity, Tom had thought. You’ll love that, won’t you? I’ll never hear the end of it.

  But as he’d been about to turn and greet his friend, he heard not only two chairs pull out, but two voices as well.

  “Always this place. Why? The food is not that great, Dad. It’s not.”

  Tom choked, so he hadn’t heard Jay’s reply. He covered his mouth in the crook of his elbow and coughed until his eyes watered.

  You’re a fucking dick, Jay. I should leave.

  A hand patted his shoulder.

  “Are you okay, buddy? Just breathe,” Jay said. “It’ll be okay.”

  “I’m. Fine,” he wheezed, in two separate breaths between his teeth.

  “Take it easy on the drinks.” Jay’s gaze darted to the two empty glasses and half-filled third.

  Tom picked up the glass and drained it in two swallows. He raised his hand for the bartender to bring another.

  ✩

  “Wait, you were the coughing drunk?” Luke’s question made Tom laugh, and he forgave the disruption.

  “Yes.” He quirked an eyebrow and smiled. “I was the coughing drunk. I’m the king of bad first impressions. You can ask your mom. When Jay introduced us, one of the first things I told her was how I’d fucked a random guy behind a dumpster the night before.”

  “That’s why she doesn’t like you?”

  “There are plenty of reasons she doesn’t like me. I doubt my sexual escapades make the top five. I wasn’t her preference when it came to you two, and I understand that she was vehemently opposed to my involvement. However, it wasn’t her decision. That’s a different story though.”

  ✩

  The amount of alcohol Tom had quickly consumed dulled him for some time. He listened to the first of Jay and Luke’s conversation, but he’d been so lightheaded that their words floated out of his mind as soon as they entered. His brain was like a truck stop on the highway as he sat at the bar spinning his peanut shell.

  But there’d just been small talk between father and son in the beginning, so it was of no consequence if he retained it. By the time Jay raised the sensitive topic, Tom had been sipping club soda and feeling more lucid.

  “What are you planning to do now that the show’s over?” Jay had asked.

  “I’ll audition for the next. After how well I did with this, it’s in the bag. Don’t you think? All smooth sailing.”

  Cocky little bastard. There was a time when people would’ve called Tom a cocky little bastard too. Both him and Jay. It didn’t take much for them to become full of themselves. It’d always been a personal challenge to stay grounded.

  “It’s only summer stock theater, though,” Jay said.

  “I know. I’m going to keep with them. Land every lead.”

  “So your plan is to stay here indefinitely? You’ll keep on performing with this theater?”

  “Yes. Why ruin a good thing?”

  “And you’ll help with the funeral home in your spare time? When Ginger and I need you? Just pickups and odd jobs?”

  Tom winced. I told you not to mention the funeral home. It will feed these notions he has.

  He knew why Jay had brought it up though. Luke received no compensation for his performances at the theater, and the funeral home was his only source of income. Jay had commented to Tom that “juggling fucking bowling pins” at a renaissance fair was more lucrative. People were paid minimum wage for that. The boy loved what he was doing, but it was a dead end. Jay had actually wanted to talk with Luke sooner, but Tom had advised him to wait. One good thing could come from summer stock theater—experience.

  “Do you know how cutthroat it is, whether he plans to go to school or directly into the industry?” Tom had said. “Thousands of students apply for the musical theater program at Carnegie Mellon. Do you know how many they accept? It’s in the single digits, Jay. And they won’t waste their time letting him audition if he doesn’t have more to say than ‘I was in a high school play and liked it.’ He needs experience to build a portfolio. It’s the same if he goes to New York. Sit back and let him improve his chances.”

  But Luke now had several performances under his belt that might sway a conservatory to review him, or secure auditions on a larger platform. Investing further at a free stock theater was no longer conducive to making a career in Broadway. It was time to have the discussion.

  “‘Just pickups and odd jobs?’ Dad, I’m not going over this again,” Luke had seized on it, as Tom anticipated he would. “I told you, I don’t want to do more than I’m already doing. I can barely tolerate that. And you don’t need me. You have Jake.”

  “Of course, I need you. You’re part of the team. We couldn’t do it without you,” Jay said.

  I see what you’re doing, but you’re making it worse.

  “You’ll have to. I’m not giving this up.”

  “I didn’t tell you to give it up. I can’t make you do what you don’t want to do. ”

  “That’s right, you can’t. But you’d love it if I would. You’d love me to give it all up.”

  Tom sensed Jay’s hesitation. He imagined his nervous tick of flexing the fingers of his right hand.

  Lie to the kid. Don’t pick at semantics. Concede, say what he wants you to say, and circle back.

  “Yes, I’d love you to give it up. Not ‘all,’ just ‘it.’ Give ‘it’ up here,” Jay had said, and Tom put his head in his hands. “You’re wasting your time here.”

  “Wasting my time? How could you say that?”

  “Luke, if you want this to be more than a hobby, you are wasting your time. Central Pennsylvania is not where you start a Broadway career. You have enough experience that you can try to get into a conservatory or go to New York. And I’m not only speaking
on behalf of myself. Mom agrees.”

  “Are you saying you want me to leave? Are you kicking me out?” Luke raised his voice.

  “I’m not saying I want you to leave. I’m saying you should.”

  No one gets word play when they’re angry, Jay. It’s condescending.

  “That’s the same fucking thing!”

  “No, it’s not. I want a lot of things. But—”

  “I know what you want. You want your perfect world with your perfect son who takes over the perfect business that you built. Who worships the ground you walk on and does every single thing you command! That’s what you want! And how great for you. You already have it! Jake is a good bitch for you. How ‘coincidental’ that he falls for Beau so you can officially bring him in and play happy family.”

  Tom had casually turned to the left and pretended to watch the sports game on television, keeping them in the corner of his eye. He’d seen Luke make air quotations around the word “coincidental” and the anger on Jay’s face as the tirade ended.

  “You’re out of line. Ginger isn’t a replacement—”

  “No, he couldn’t be a replacement,” Luke interrupted Jay again. “To ‘replace’ there has to be an original. And I’ve always been a huge disappointment. Don’t lie. I know I have.”

  “That is not—”

  You should’ve had Jackie here. She’d have shut down this bullshit.

  “The closest I’ve felt to you has been the past couple months. I let myself believe you’d gotten over the fact that I’m not how you want me to be. That maybe you’d accepted me.” Luke uncrossed his arms and made a dramatic gesture. “So what has all this been, Dad? Was it difficult for you to spend time with me the last few weeks? Were you gritting your teeth when you helped me practice? Has it been torture for you to sit through every performance?”

  Tom had rolled his eyes and taken a drink.

  “If it was torture for me to be at every performance, why was I there?”

  “Maybe you were waiting for me to fall on my ass. Hoping I would.”

  “I’ve never wanted you to be anything but happy and successful.”

  “Then fucking leave me alone! Let me be who I am and accept it!”

  Tom tried to catch Jay’s attention. Here’s your opportunity to tell him. You don’t have to bring me into it. But tell him you know what being rejected for who you are is. Tell him you understand and why.

  Tom had been unable to make eye contact to communicate anything.

  “You can be whoever you want, Luke! Go whore yourself for all I care! But you have to be responsible! You’re twenty-five!” Jay dropped his voice. “You’re a man, not a little boy. You’ve never worked for anyone but me. You’ve never had a real job. You have no degree, and you’re not qualified to do anything. Singing on a stage won’t get you anywhere here. I worry about you. How will you support yourself when I’m gone?”

  You’ve called him a stupid, insignificant leech. He’s gone, my friend. He won’t hear anything more.

  “It’s always all about you isn’t it? You care so much, yet every conversation is brought back to you!”

  “This isn’t about me. It’s—”

  If he interrupted me that much I’d reach across the table at him. Tom set down the empty glass and shook his head to decline another. But that’s why you’re not a father, Tom. People don’t take kindly to punching anyone in the face. Whether it’s your child or not. Even if he’s being an asswipe and deserves it.

  “You’re right. It’s not. I’m a big disappointment to you, but I like who I am. And I’m going to do what I want to do.”

  “You’re not a disappointment, and should do what makes you happy. But if this is something you want, you’re wasting your time on this shit here,” Jay said. The concern had returned, but Tom knew it was futile. Jay had misspoken and once again made a comment the boy would latch onto like a rabid pit bull. “You need a bigger venue. Go to New York or California, somewhere bigger than here. Or go to school.”

  “Shit? How could I have been so stupid to think you cared!”

  If Jay hadn’t been upset, Tom would’ve found his accuracy at predicting Luke’s reactions quite amusing.

  I’m sorry, this is all me coming at you. I remember having these fights with my parents. Where I only heard what I wanted and skewed their words to match my views. I should’ve fought with you more, Jay. You’d be more prepared.

  Tom glanced at Jay again and sighed.

  I’d get into fantastic fights with Leo—it was fun to rub him against the grain. But you? It doesn’t matter how angry I am. I look at you and just crumble. Maybe if I can pretend you’re someone else I’ll give you a good fight, you son of a bitch.

  “You’d like it if I left. You wouldn’t have to see me every day to be reminded of your son, the failure. Who ‘wastes his time on shit.’ You could pretend there’s only ever been Jake.” Luke had tossed his head, and Tom masked a laugh by coughing again.

  God, you belong in a soap opera.

  “I don’t want you to leave. I’d miss—”

  Tom was glad he hadn’t been able to see the pained look in Jay’s eyes. If he could’ve, he’d have violated the principal rule and interrupted.

  “Save it. I’m happy to make myself disappear. I’ll go and prove you wrong. But it’ll be too late.” Luke stood and shoved his chair under the table. “You’ve chosen your son, so go fuck yourself, Jay.”

  Tom didn’t tell Luke what’d happened after he marched out to act upon his threat. He didn’t disclose how his father had been brokenhearted, and it’d only been due to Tom’s insistence that Jay hadn’t followed the boy and begged him to stay.

  He’d known that Jay pursuing Luke would’ve prevented him from leaving. The boy didn’t even necessarily need an apology. He wanted to feel valued. Things and people weren’t chased if they weren’t loved. But Tom had kept him back.

  There’s just something wonderful, gorgeous about Jay being upset. And this is it…

  Jay had allowed Tom to be near him. To take him in his arms and hold him for a few moments. So fuck the situation. Fuck the consequences. Fuck the boy. Let Jay be upset always. Had he ever been this aware of his own heartbeat? Jay was so close Tom caught the scent of his cologne and felt his hair grazing his cheek. It was more intoxicating than the vodka tonics—than the piano. Even a year later, Tom had to literally shake his head to eject the memory and return to the reason he was relaying the event to begin with.

  ✩✩✩

  “Jay was trying to be a good father to you,” Tom said to Luke’s reflection in the window. “A good father pushes his child when he needs to be pushed. He knew you were misunderstanding what he was trying to say, and that your interpretations were hurting you. But he was right to encourage you.”

  Luke lay on the couch now, his arm over his eyes. “I just don’t understand why he couldn’t have been happy for me. Why he couldn’t have been proud and left it at that.”

  “Your dad was proud of you. But he was so proud of you that even if you were okay being average and not trying for anything greater, he wasn’t.”

  “He wanted me to be him.”

  “He wanted you to have the same success he had. To be as happy as he was. To take the risk and have your moment at the phenomenal. Listen to me.” Tom faced him and spoke again when Luke met his eyes. “There’s no need for you to maintain charades in front of a dying man. Who would I tell your secrets to? Let your guard down. You can be wrong. Because you know you are wrong. What Jay said came from genuine love for you.” He swallowed.

  “You and Beau weren’t like other children. You weren’t accidents. You weren’t whims. You weren’t patiently counted on to appear. You were passionately, manically desired and sought after at great mental, emotional, financial, and physical cost. Trust me, Luke; he went through hell to get you. You don’t know how badly he wanted you. For his entire life.”

  Tom turned, unable to bear looking at Luke any longer.

&n
bsp; And no one knows how I took advantage of that desire when Jay came to me and asked, he thought as he cleared his throat. How I did it, not in the service of my friend, but only for myself. I assumed that if I could give him what he’d always wanted, he’d stay with me.

  Tom wasn’t aware of what he played as he slipped into thinking about the most painful and humiliating juncture of his life.

  Worse than when you bailed me out of jail. Worse than the car accident. Worse than my mom dying. Having you turn me away was more horrible than your own death, Jay. And how awful is it to know that’s true?

  ✩✩✩

  They’d been alone a lot. With a big trial in Saint George, it was easier for Leo to only come home on weekends. And Jackie was away often too. Her literary agency had still been new.

  “Marketing necessitates travel,” Jackie said, though she didn’t travel well. “That’s how you know I hate it here, Jay. I’d rather be drugged off my ass on Dramamine than stay in this shit hole.”

  Where they were staying was hardly a shit hole. Tom had recently moved into Leo’s seven thousand square foot house, where his friend and his friend’s wife were invited to stay as long as they needed. It was much larger than Jay’s house in Pennsylvania, and worth more than his funeral home. The shit hole she referred to was the state of Utah itself.

  But their absence suited Tom perfectly. When Leo had decided he shouldn’t commute daily, Tom canceled an upcoming performance at the Opernhaus Dortmund that’d been planned for months. He told the Germans he was ill—nigh unto death. To Leo, Jay, and Jackie, he said the Germans had canceled on him, the bastards. But in actuality, Tom needed to take the window of opportunity.

  Stupid. Just fucking stupid.

  He waited, like a spider. Building his courage and confidence on the belief that after all he was doing for him, Jay couldn’t refuse. Not only had Tom provided the means for giving Jay what he wanted, but he’d also opened his home to him. Or rather, Leo’s home, not that the detail mattered. Jay had a place to crash for the next year or so, quarantined and isolated. Jackie would be with him, but her presence was also a technicality. And, thanks to Leo, they’d conceal everything. The birth certificates were going to say whatever Jay wanted, and the hospital and medical records would disappear.