They stopped to speak to Jack -- or rather Adam spoke to Jack and the young man gazed at Adam adoringly, his fingers threading through Adam's hair. Adam wore it short now, no more curls, but his eyes were as bright and lively as they'd ever been, and his skin was as smooth.
They left Jack, and Adam paused at their row. Adam's eyes met Leo's. Leo started to speak, but no words came and he looked away. Adam said, "Dune. It's been a long time since I've seen you, son."
Dune said calmly, "I know."
"We should have dinner some time. I'd like you to get to know Raphael." He glanced at the young man by his side, who smiled uncertainly.
"No," Dune said. "I'd rather not."
"Dune--"
"As far as I'm concerned you've relinquished any rights to considering me family," said Dune.
Raphael made a wounded sound, and Adam inhaled sharply. "That's harsh, son."
"Don't call me son."
"Mr. Bellamy," Raphael appealed to Leo, "we are all family, yes? Children and parents together? And friends?"
Leo felt Stuart's hand curl around his. He said, "Don't speak to me. I don't want you to speak to me," and every word felt punched out of him.
Before Adam could respond Raphael put his hand on Adam's stomach and said something softly in Spanish. Adam nodded and took his hand, and they moved away.
Leo let out his breath. Everything hurt, everything, his lungs as if he'd been trying to breathe underwater and his eyes as if the room was full of smoke and the insides of his cheeks as if he'd been biting them. Micah finally slid off Stuart's lap into the empty chair so he could hold Dune, and David's arm went around Leo. David said softly, "That looked pretty awful."
"Felt pretty awful, too," Leo gasped.
Stuart murmured, "Calm down," as he gently rubbed up and down Leo's spine. "Calm down."
Leo leaned forward and breathed deeply. "Sorry. Sorry. I know it's ridiculous. I should be used to this by now."
"It's not ridiculous." Stuart's voice was still low. "You didn't expect to see him. It's all right. Keep breathing."
"No," said Leo, "I knew he was coming. I knew he'd come. I braced myself for this and I still-- I still--"
"Breathe," Stuart repeated and gently pushed on his back so Leo bent forward. Leo wrapped his arms around his knees and breathed, in through the nose and out through the mouth, and through the dull roar in his ears he heard Stuart, with a few interjections from Jamie, quietly explain things to David. Stuart's hand never stopped moving over his back in soothing circles.
Jack turned around and said, "Leo? Are you going to be okay?"
"Yes," Leo said and pushed himself upright. "I'm okay. Sorry. God knows you don't need the drama."
"What's a funeral without some drama?" Jack said wryly, and then he looked at the remaining mourners and the color drained from his normally ruddy face.
"Jack?" said Leo and turned to look too. Standing in the doorway to the chapel was a long-legged young man with bushy brown hair, and holding his arm was a middle-aged woman in a red dress. Emily Hughes.
The entire congregation went silent for a moment, and as the two made their way to the front the whispers began, people who knew the story telling it to those who didn't. Emily ignored them all as she swept past the remaining line, the young man -- it had to be their youngest, Samuel, and he'd grown a yard since Leo had last seen him -- slouched behind her, looking like he wished he were miles away. He, at least, had worn black.
Emily looked pinched and far too thin, as if she'd denied herself every pleasure and indulgence possible for the last eight years. The dress would have been appropriate for a cocktail party or a night at the opera, which was probably her intention, and she wore ruby earrings and a matching necklace that looked like they cost as much as the funeral itself.
She stopped at the coffin and looked down at Malcolm's body, and then hauled back her arm and slapped the corpse, hard. People gasped audibly or cried out in protest, and Jack and Charlie were on their feet at once. The funeral director hurried to her. "Mrs. Hughes?"
"Mom!" said Samuel and caught her around the shoulders as she began to cry.
"Emily," Jack said, "what the fuck!"
"
You,
" she said in a low voice. "He was my husband and you took him away from me. He was the love of my life and you took him away."
Jack said, "He was the love of mine," and Emily shook her head, mascara-tinged tear drops running down her cheeks.
"What do any of you people know about love?" she spat. "It's all sex, sex and more sex for you." Jack took a step closer and she held up her hand in warning. "Don't talk to me, Jack Buckner. You have no right to talk to me. All these people treating you like the widow. You're not the widow.
I'm
the widow."
"Come on, Mom," said Samuel and tried to steer her to the door. "We shouldn't have come. Come on."
"I'm the widow!" Emily shouted as Samuel took her out. "You aren't the widow, Jack Buckner! You aren't anything!"
Charlie and the funeral director helped Jack back to his chair, Jack too stunned to move on his own, and then the funeral director quickly checked the body. Charlie said to Leo, his arm still around Jack, "We should get started, don't you think?"
"I think so," Leo said, but he could hardly focus on the funeral himself. He was only vaguely aware of the funeral director closing the coffin and starting the service.
It hit too close to home, Emily's behavior, even her words. She'd said the same thing to Jack that he'd said to Raphael -- was that how he was about Adam? An embarrassment, a spectacle? Was his bitterness at losing his lover to someone else as consuming as hers?
The room had gone silent, and Leo realized the funeral director was looking at him pointedly. "Oh," he said and picked up the book of poetry Jack had asked him to read. "Sorry." He opened the book and went to the front of the chapel, and managed to read the poem and get back to his seat without tripping over his feet. Stuart was frowning and Dune looked worried, but when Dune whispered, "What's wrong?" Leo said, "Later."
Other people read poems, Charlie gave the eulogy, and the carpenter's daughters sang "I'll Fly Away." It was a good funeral despite the confrontations, Leo knew, but it seemed to pass in a blur as he struggled to cope with this epiphany.
The moment the service was over and the pallbearers took the coffin out to the hearse, people gathered around Jack to comfort and console him. Leo whispered to Stuart, "I'll meet you all at the house. I'm going to skip the graveside service."
"Are you all right?"
"I need to be alone for a while." He kissed Stuart's cheek, and when Dune reached for his hand he gave it a squeeze. "I'm fine. I promise. I'm going to, um, make sure the caterers are taking care of things." He got up to go, whispering, "I'm fine, I'm fine," to their concerned faces.
At Jack's house, Leo let himself in and went first to the kitchen. The caterers had already set up tables for a buffet, and were now plating food and setting out utensils and glasses as they talked quietly amongst themselves. The head caterer paused when Leo peeked in. "Just making sure you have everything you need," Leo said.
"Thank you, sir," she said. "We're coming along fine. We'll be ready in about half an hour."
"People may not start arriving by then," Leo said. "The viewing went longer than we expected."
"We'll be ready whenever they do," she assured him, and he nodded in thanks.
There was nothing at the house that needed his attention, then, since the caterers had things in hand and Charlie was looking after Jack. It was raining too hard to go out to the garden. Leo took off his coat and put it in the front closet, and for lack of anything better, sat at the glossy black upright piano and began to play -- 'Ave Maria' since it was on his mind from the service.
He'd gone through many of the songs he had memorized when he heard a soft, "Dad?"
Leo stopped playing and turned to see Dune. "Hey."
"Don't stop," Dune said. "I haven't heard you play in ages." He came to the piano as Leo resumed, and sat on the bench with him.
"Micah's star struck," Dune said after a while. "He's latched himself completely onto David. It's a bit like watching a kitten climb over a Shetland pony. I offered to pull him off, but David said it was okay, so I only hope Micah will leave some for the rest of us."
Leo chuckled. "I'm glad David's being nice to him. How was the service?"
"Wet," said Dune. "And muddy. Everybody's still talking about Emily and how awful she was. They're right, aren't they? It wasn't Jack's fault her marriage ended. I mean, if your marriage is going to break up, it's got to have a weakness somewhere."
"Like your husband being gay," Leo said. He stopped playing and leaned his elbow on the keyboard and his head on his hand.
"I don't mean--"
"No," Leo said, "you're right. You're right. Something has to have a weak spot to break. Or more pressure than it could handle. If Adam wanted someone younger and more exciting, then who can blame him? I'm fifty-one years old, I've had the same job for seventeen years, I didn't become an actor like Adam thought I would, my idea of an exciting night is watching old movies and cooking dinner, but I'm not like her."
"Nobody thinks you are, Dad."
"They might if I keep things up like I have been. I don't want to blame someone else for how unhappy I am." He straightened. "Dune, I think you should make peace with Adam."
Dune furrowed his eyebrows, obviously confused at the change of subject. "Dad, I don't want to talk to him."
"I know, but you should anyway. He's still your father."
"You're my father," Dune said. "He's given up any right to that name."
Leo said slowly, "I don't want you to be distant from Adam the way Malcolm's children were from him. Only one even bothered coming to the funeral, and that was probably only to keep watch over Emily." He inhaled. "I need to make peace with Adam, too. Who knows? Maybe I can even be friendly with Raphael."
"Try for civil," said Dune. "Let's not expect miracles."
"Not yet, anyway." The front doorbell rang and they both turned to look.
Dune patted Leo's shoulder and get up from the bench. "I'll be doorman. You keep playing. People will like the music."
"God knows I like making people happy." He turned back to the keyboard, and then closed his eyes as Dune came back and kissed his forehead before answering the door.
***
Not everyone who'd gone to the funeral came to the open house, but still the little Victorian was crowded with mourners by the time Leo lifted his hands from the piano keyboard and put on a CD instead. He rubbed his knuckles, and then got up to claim some food.
The buffet table had been well picked-over, but there were still vegetables and sandwiches. Leo popped a cherry tomato into his mouth and filled a plate, and poured himself a cup of coffee. Or tried to, anyway, but the silver fat-bellied pot was empty.
"Drained it dry, did we?" said David Campbell behind him, and Leo smiled at him over his shoulder.
"Lots of thirsty, weary people here today."
"Here, let me help." David picked up another pot from the other end of the table and filled Leo's cup. "I think this one's vanilla flavored, but that won't kill you."
"I don't mind vanilla flavored." They moved away from the table. Every chair at the dining room table was taken, as were the arm chairs and couches. "There's a table in the kitchen," Leo said, "but the caterers are using it."
"Stairs," said David, so Leo threaded through all the people to the narrow staircase. The first set of stairs were filled with people talking and eating, so they went around the little bend in the landing to find themselves alone on the second stairs. The party below was a dull murmur of voices and classical music. David went halfway up the staircase and perched on a step, so Leo settled on a few steps below him, where he could set his plate above and his cup below and stretch out his legs across the step as much as the narrow staircase allowed.
He said after his first few mouthfuls, "I'd ask you what you've been up to for the last twenty years but I've been following your career so I don't know what to ask."
"Fulfilling the promise of my early years," David said. "And having a great time doing it. What about you?"
"Nothing quite so exciting," Leo said. "I was a DJ for a while after I left acting, and I've been the program director at my station for about eight years now. The rest of the time I've been raising Dune in our little foursome of parents, feeding my friends, and looking after people who've needed it. The usual."
"I remember your brunches," said David. "I always met the most interesting people there. Is that how Dune met his boyfriend?"
"Sort of," Leo said. "Micah used to date Dune's friend Jamie, then they broke up and Dune took Micah under his wing, then Micah surprised us all by growing up. Well," he considered, "mostly growing up. He's still part puppy."
"He's a sweet kid," David said. "I like him. The way he dotes on Dune is absolutely charming."
"They're crazy about each other," Leo said with a nod.
David sipped his coffee. "If this is out of line feel free to say so, but how did Dune get the scar on his mouth? I don't remember him having it when he was a kid."
Leo sighed and swallowed the bite of roast beef sandwich he'd been chewing. "His last boyfriend hit him."
"Jesus," said David.
"Yeah. Nothing quite points to your failures as a parent like knowing your child is being abused. But we got him out -- well, Micah got him out -- and the guy's in jail. Dune will be all right."
"Poor kid," David said. "I'm glad he got out. Watching your friends struggle through bad relationships is a terrible feeling. I can't imagine what it's like when it's your child."
"The hardest part of a bad relationship is realizing you're in one," Leo said. "You want to love that person no matter what, and it's a cold, bleak day when you realize there isn't enough love left to make the pain worthwhile."
David put his hand on Leo's shoulder and said quietly, "How are you, really?"