Omorphi (64 page)

Jake shrugged. “I figured around one, maybe two.”

“We figure around two…. Front of Carrello’s Arcade by two thirty is great. See you tomorrow. And, hey, thanks for everything. And thank Smitty too.”

“Jason didn’t die?” Jake asked as Michael terminated the call.

Michael shook his head. “But she says he’s on life support and not expected to make it.”

“That’s incredible.”

“No kidding. I guess Lisa spoke with Stephen and got the 411 about Jerry living with Christy now and the trip to the waterfront tomorrow. So she wants to—”

“I got it. It’s going to be a crowd.”

“Yeah, is that okay?”

“Why are you asking me? I think the more, the merrier.”

Michael turned to Nero. “Can I be here when you call the general?”

“Yes. Do you mind if I ask why you wish to speak with him?”

“I might have some questions.”

“Might?”

“I haven’t thought everything through yet. I just want to reserve a place on the call.”

Nero finally smiled. “Your place is reserved.”

“W
HAT
are you thinking so hard about, man?” Jake asked as he threw on a pair of sweats.

Michael lay with his legs hanging off the end of the bed and his toes tapping the soft carpeting. “I can’t believe Jason is dead.”

“Near dead.”

“Same thing.”

“Bothered about it?”

“Makes me feel squeegee.”

Jake shook his head as he threw himself down on the bed next to Michael. “Where do you get these words?”

“Squeegee is a real word.”

“Define.”

“Uncomfortable.”

“Not a window cleaning device?”

“That too.”

“Did you forget the guy was out to kill you?”

“No, but we’ve known him since what, second grade?”

“First, he isn’t a friend. Second, doesn’t matter how long we’ve known him. He isn’t a good guy. Third, he wants you and Christy dead. Fourth, he’s freaked out our parents. Fifth, he’s freaked out his family, especially his mom. Sixth—”

“I get it, I get it.”

“You doing okay?”

“What do you mean? I’m fine.”

“Last couple weeks have been tough, Michael. Don’t bullshit yourself. And you were pretty upset last night over Christy.”

Michael was quiet for a long moment as he kicked his heels lightly into the bed frame. He began to push thoughts of what had been done to Christy from his mind, but stopped himself. He would
know
. He would remain
aware
. “Yeah, I’m okay. Things are moving forward. One asshole down, one to go.”

Jake laughed softly. “How’s Christy doing?”

“Good, actually. This whole idea of doing a statement for the police with paintings has him thrilled.”

“I thought Sophia was going to jump out of her skin when I told her.”

Michael smiled wide and turned to Jake. “He really loves her.”

It was Jake’s turn to smile. “She really loves him too.”

“I’m going over there in the morning to help rearrange the loft.”

“I’m going over there in the morning to take Sophia out for breakfast. Do you want to go with us?”

“I’d say yes, but you should have seen the look on Christy’s face when we talked about painting for the police. I think he’d rather work on the loft, but we can check it out when we get there.” Michael’s eyes wandered to the shelves on Jake’s wall and settled on a stopwatch. “Why do you have a stopwatch up there?”

“I haven’t dated it and put it with all the others.”

“Huh?”

Jake got off the bed and opened his top dresser drawer and pointed inside it. Michael stood and peered in. Row upon row of stopwatches sat mounted in small, velvet-lined boxes, each one bearing a date.
What the—?

“Every one of your personal best times.”

Michael raised his eyes to meet Jake’s. “Mine?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m proud of you, bro. Why else?”

Michael looked in the drawer again. “Jake, I don’t know what to say.”

Jake chuckled as he reached into the drawer and retrieved white athletic tape and a Sharpie pen. Tearing a small piece of tape from the roll, he wrote the date of the state championship meet. He reached for the stopwatch on the shelf, carefully placed the dated piece of tape on the back of it, and set it in an empty box in the drawer. “There. Your best time yet in the one-ten.”

“You timed me at the meet?”

“Always do.” Jake pushed the drawer closed.

“What do you do, like, keep a supply of stopwatches in your car?”

“Yeah.”

Michael started to laugh. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No.”

Michael couldn’t believe it. “Great balls of fire, Jacob Santini! If I didn’t know how much you loved Sophia, I’d say you had a crush on me!” He imitated Scarlett O’Hara.

“Shut up.” Jake pushed him, and he fell backward onto the bed, cracking up.

When Jake didn’t laugh with him, he turned serious. “I don’t know what to say, man.”

“Say that’s incredibly cool and shut up about it.”

“That’s incredibly cool.”

A
T
SIX
the next morning, Michael and Jake sat at the kitchen island in peaceful silence. Jake poured two glasses of apple juice and shoved one toward Michael. Michael picked small bits off one of the croissants Anna had left out for them, not truly interested in the food. The previous night’s events still weighed heavily on his mind.

“You sleep okay?” Jake asked.

Michael nodded, not yet awake. “You?”

Jake nodded.

“Do you think we can tell Christy Jason’s… gone?”

“I’d wait ’til my dad makes some calls.”

“I’ve made them,” Nero said as he entered the kitchen in his burgundy satin-and-velveteen smoking jacket and matching pajama pants. Though clearly exhausted, the man looked dressed to the nines even in his pajamas, Michael thought. “Jason was pronounced dead shortly after reaching the hospital. I’ve called Rob and told him but asked him to allow you two to tell Christy and Sophia.”

“Do they know who shot him?” Jake asked.

Nero went to the press and poured a steaming cup of espresso. “No.” Nero sat down with them. “
Grazie per il caffè,
figlio
.”

“
Non é problema, Pap
ά
.”

“I guess we’ll be going back home now,” Michael said quietly.

“Bite your tongue, bro.”

“Why?”

“Not until Yosef is dealt with,” Nero said solemnly. “Things will be hard on Bobbie when she learns of him, and Anna can help.”

Michael’s face twisted in begrudging acceptance. “Then you gotta tell Dad, or he won’t understand why you want us to stay.”

Nero shook his head. “Anna and your mother need each other now. That is enough reason.”

Mac made his way into the kitchen.

“Hey, Dad.”

Mac silently one-arm hugged Michael in passing on his way to make a cup of coffee with cream and sugar. Rather, a cup of milk with coffee and sugar.

“How’s Mom?”

Mac nodded in silence.

“You okay?”

Mac nodded again.

“No, you’re not.”

Mac turned to face Nero as he sipped the lukewarm, light brown liquid. “When were you going to tell me about Yosef, Nero?”

Uh-oh
. Michael shot a surprised and worried look at Jake.

“How long have you known?” Nero asked softly.

“Long enough.”

Nero sighed long and loud.

Mac turned to Michael. “You should have told me who Christy was.”

Michael felt like crawling under the kitchen island and burying himself there for a year. “Yeah, I, ah, should have, but Mr. Santini said—”

“Don’t you mean to say
Christy
said?” Mac interrupted angrily.

Michael could only remember one or two times in his life when he’d been the focus of his dad’s anger, and it scared the living crap out of him. Not because his dad would ever hurt him, but because he respected the man more than anyone in the world.

Mac threw his coffee cup into the sink, and it shattered, painting the sink and counter with soft brown drops. “Damn you, Nero.” He strode from the room.

Michael rose from his seat.

“I’ll speak with him,” Nero said.

Michael’s fury rose. He’d hid enough at Nero’s request and his own expense and was sick and tired of it. “I’ll go talk to him.”

Nero began to rise, and Jake put a hand on his arm. “Let him handle it.”

“Jacob—”

“For once, can’t you just let it go?” Jake bit back further words and turned away. “Damn, Papa, it’s enough already. Michael’s right. The secrets need to stop.”

Nero lowered himself to his seat again. “I must speak to Christy before we say anything.”

Jake exploded. “Fuck that! Just… let it the fuck go! The worst that’s going to happen is Christy will fire you. Is that worth what’s happening to Mama? To Michael’s mom? To Christy behind his back! To Sophia behind her back?”

“I gave my word.”

“Yeah, you did! And you kept it! It’s not your fault everyone found things out by themselves! Maybe you should tell Christy exactly that! You didn’t say a fucking word, but now people know! Christy couldn’t have expected to hide who he was forever! Tell him that!”

Nero scrubbed his face with both hands and nodded. “I will go there now and tell him.” Nero rose and left the kitchen.

Michael turned, and Jake caught his arm and signaled for him to wait. He prepared another cup of coffee for Mac and handed it to Michael, and he accepted it with a soft, “Thanks.”

M
ICHAEL
found his dad sitting in the sunroom, staring out at the vast property of the estate, his frustration and anger plain on his face. “Dad?”

Mac remained silent.

Michael sat down next to him and handed the cup of overly creamed coffee to him. “I’m sorry.”

Mac sipped before his lips stretched to a thin smirk. He ignored Michael’s apology. “Your mother is a nurse. She has an acute awareness of what drugs and alcohol can do to a body. She woke this morning, threw her pills away, said ‘Good riddance, Jason,’ and went back to bed. She is sleeping more soundly than I have seen her sleep in a month. Now I have to tell her about Yosef. This isn’t about you being gay. It’s about who your boyfriend is and what he comes with.”

Michael’s heart sat in his throat, a large, sour, festering lump.

“Christy’s case has to be
the
worst I have seen in my life. Add to it that he is Christophoros Castlios and I can’t wish that on you. I can’t abide that for you or our family.”

Michael swallowed hard and prayed for his heart to return to his chest. He wanted to defend Christy, to defend his monumental progress, to defend their relationship, but reminded himself that he needed to hear everything his dad had to say before he spoke.

“I will not lose your mother or you because of your boyfriend.”

And there it was. So simple. So matter-of-fact. And
fair
. He thought about defending Christy again. It wasn’t Christy’s fault who he was or what happened to him. He thought about defending himself again. It wasn’t his fault that Jason had turned out to be psycho. He thought about defending his incredible love for Christy. One doesn’t choose who they fall in love with. But none of it mattered because his dad was right. Family came first. “Then I’ll just have to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

Mac turned to him, anger large in his eyes. “And how do you propose to do that?”

“Honesty. You always taught me honesty is the best policy. I only found out who Christy was and what happened to him a few days ago. I’m going to tell Mom the truth, and I’m going to tell her that I’m not going to give Christy up. I’ll help her through it.”

“You’re deluding yourself, Michael. She’ll fall apart the moment she knows Yosef is out there.”

Michael shook his head. “It’s different with Yosef. Jason was an unknown to Mom. She knows Christy. She cares about him. She’ll look to protect him from Yosef.”

“I will not lose your mother or you to a madman!”

Michael took a deep, shaky breath. “You won’t, Dad. You’ll see.” He hugged his dad quickly and walked out without waiting for a reply. It was the first time he’d done such a thing and hadn’t done it out of anger or spite. He’d done it out of sheer strength of mind. And his dad hadn’t called him back. His dad believed in him enough not to stop him, to let him try, and it meant the world to him.

“H
EY
,
Mom.”

Her eyes fluttered open, and she smiled. “Hi, honey, is everything okay?”

“It’s all good. Get up. I’m going to take you somewhere.”

She struggled to sit up. “Where?”

“To a museum of sorts. We’re going to rearrange it.”

“What? Where?”

“You’ll see. It’s a surprise. Get up. I’m going to talk to you while you’re in the shower just like I used to when I was little. When I was scared.”

Now she was awake. She frowned. “What do you want to tell me, Michael?”

“Shower.”

“S
O
I
need your help, and I’m sorry I kept it from you,” Michael finished.

His mom turned the shower off and, when the door opened ajar, Michael watched his mom’s delicate hand reach for a towel and withdraw into the shower again.

The steam had nearly dissipated, and his mom still hadn’t spoken. He wanted to prompt her, but he knew it was best to wait. She was thinking. She’d stopped moving, so he knew she had toweled off. He reflected on how many times he’d sat and told her of his trials and tribulations in the early morning dawn before she left for work and he left for school. He’d always felt like a new person when he’d left her bathroom in the mornings. She had always been able to find the bright side to everything, and she had always empowered him with sage advice and perspective. He could only imagine telling someone about it.
Oh yeah, hanging out in my mom’s bathroom in the morning while she showers is always life altering.
That sounded all kinds of wrong.