Cartography for Beginners (14 page)

Leo was quiet a moment. "Why were you hurt and angry?"

Stuart picked up his coffee cup and drank the dregs. "I was young and stupid, and prideful. Have I ever told you about Joelle?"

"No," Leo said. "Tell me."

Stuart played with coffee cup. "She was the first artist I discovered. She was so talented. At the time I was convinced I slept with men out of convenience, not preference." He paused and refilled his coffee cup. "I thought I loved her. I certainly loved the children. I still do, even if I wouldn't know them if I passed them on the street."

"Then why be away from them for so long?" Leo said, his tone still soft.

"Our breakup was terrible," Stuart said. "Mine and Joelle's. We fought all night long. Screamed at each other, and in the end, she said, 'Don't speak to us ever again, don't even try to see us,' and I said, 'Don't worry, I won't.' And I haven't."

There was another pause. "I can't imagine never seeing my child, Stuart. I don't know how you've borne it."

"Necessity," Stuart said simply. "And anger."

"Oh, Stuart," Leo said.

"I know. I was often controlled by my baser nature when I was a young man."

"And you're not now?"

Stuart looked out at the river, imagining the smirk on Leo's lips right now. "Less so. I didn't sleep with that boy the night before I came to California, I'll have you know. I realized I couldn't bear another morning of searching for things to talk about. When did young men get so young, Leo?"

"When we got old."

"I suppose so." He had another sip of coffee. "Jean-Claude was old enough to remember me. The girls wouldn't, not easily, but he was six when I left. He doesn't want me to come. I don't know why he wrote me."

"Someone does," Leo said. "Maybe his mother, maybe his sisters, maybe his fiancée -- maybe deep down, he actually does miss you."

Stuart said abruptly, "I miss you," and then closed his mouth.

"I miss you too," Leo said, sounding confused. "Are you all right?"

"I don't know. Tell me what to do," Stuart said. "You're a good father. I have never been one. Tell me what to do. Should I stay away or should I write him back?"

"Do you want to write him?"

"I don't know." He bit his lip. "I envy your relationship with Dune, you know. I loved my father very much but I was never half as comfortable with him as Dune is with you. Jean-Claude and I will never have that, either."

"I got lucky, that's all," Leo said. "He's always been an affectionate boy."

"You love each other," Stuart said. "Anyone can see it. Most people envy it. It's too late for me and Jean-Claude to have that sort of closeness. We'll be lucky if we end up friends."

"Do you want to be friends with him?" Leo said gently.

Stuart watched the river. "Yes."

"Then go to the wedding. Explain what happened with you and his mother, and then go to his wedding and dance with his bride, and in a few years remember his children's birthdays."

"You make it sound so simple."

"It is simple. It's family."

"Family is never simple." He sighed. "What about your father? You've never spoken of him. Was he your best friend like you are Dune's?"

Leo was quiet a moment. "He was a good man, but no, we weren't close. He wasn't affectionate. He was more comfortable building me a tree house than saying he loved me out loud. I never told him I'm gay, and he died thinking I was going to marry Frances and make him a grandfather. Of course, I did make him a grandfather, but not quite the way he thought."

"I'm sorry. What was it?"

"Emphysema. He smoked like a chimney. Men of his generation did." Leo exhaled. "And the worst part of it was this was when AIDS was decimating the community and nobody knew what it was, so my friends were dying and then my father died... rough days."

"I remember."

Leo said, "Dune's friends are having children and getting married. Micah and Dune are talking adoption. Even Frances is moving across the country to live her retirement dream. And I'm just
here
. Same apartment, same job. I don't know what I'm doing with my life, Stuart."

"Come to England," Stuart said. "We'll figure it out."

"Okay," Leo said.

They were both quiet now. "I should go," Stuart said. "I should write that letter."

"Okay," Leo said. "Talk to you soon." He hung up. Stuart did the same, and stared at the ceiling for a moment before pushing himself up and going to his writing desk.

Micah kept in touch by email and text, and Jamie emailed him photos of his paintings now and again, but Stuart still preferred classic methods of communication. He had heavy cream stationary embossed with his name in brown ink, and he usually wrote in matching fountain pen.

He wrote,

"My dear Jean-Claude,

Congratulations on your impending marriage. I will be happy and pleased to attend your wedding.

I hope before the day arrives that you and I can talk a bit. I know nothing about you and your sisters and would like to change that.

Yours,"

He paused. Should he sign "Stuart Huntsman" as he did with his business letters? "Stuart" or even just "S" as when he wrote his friends? "Father"? "Papa"? "Dad"?

He wrote "Stuart Huntsman." It looked overly formal, but it was more comfortable than "Father," a name he didn't feel he could claim yet. He addressed the envelope and put it in the stack of mail to be sent out the next day.

The strange part of it all, he supposed, was that after talking to Leo he felt so much more at ease. He and Leo were still friends. He could turn to Leo for advice and help and comfort, as always. It was a relief.

Chapter Eight

Leo hung up the phone and immediately picked it up again, dialed Dune and Micah's apartment and said without preamble, "I'm coming to Europe with you."

"Okay," said Dune slowly. "Good. What changed your mind?"

"I talked to Stuart. He wants me to come."

"Stuart convinced you to come," Dune said flatly.

"Exactly," said Leo. "I miss him."

"He left yesterday."

"I'm used to having him around." He took a breath, feeling lighter and happier than he had for weeks. "I guess I need to buy a ticket and get my passport and everything else now."

"Let me get you our flight details," Dune said and Leo heard rummaging. "Maybe you can get on the same flight." He shouted away from the phone, "Baby, what do we need for passports?" and Micah shouted something muffled in return. "Let me call you back," he said to Leo.

"Yes, do," Leo said, laughing, and hung up again.

It was a whirlwind of preparation after that. There were arrangements to be made at work, luggage to buy, papers to submit. Leo went with Micah and Dune to get pictures taken for their passports and take the forms to the consulate. Micah was good about not making Dune laugh when it was his turn to have his picture taken, but it was harder for Leo not to smile too broadly when it was his turn. It was so good to see Dune happy like this, quietly contented as he waited with Micah, arms around Micah's shoulders and Micah's arms around Dune's waist.

He's finding peace,
Leo thought, and the photographer said, "Mr. Bellamy, a neutral expression, please."

"Sorry," Leo said and tried to school his face into something bland.

When they were finished and out in the car Leo looked at the developed pictures and shook his head. "I think I could easily be mistaken for a terrorist. Your mother was right: I should have gotten a haircut first."

"You look fine, Dad," Dune said.

"I come to your country to find pretty music and debauch your sons," Leo said and Micah laughed.

"You could use some debauchery, Leo."

"I'm sure I'll find some, the way things are shaping up." He leaned back in the seat, watching the passing streets. David had emailed him, finally, to say he was in London and looked forward to seeing him, but there was something about his tone that made Leo wonder if something else was afoot. And of course there was Stuart, who he still talked to every day, and while neither said "I miss you" again, it was an undercurrent to every conversation.

"By the way, how is Stuart?" Micah said, glancing at him from the driver's seat. Leo raised his eyebrows at him, and Micah smiled angelically. "Have you talked to him lately?"

"You know I have. He's good. Same as ever." He was quiet a moment. "His son is getting married."

"Oh, wow," Micah said, turning to look back at him again.

"Eyes on the road, baby," Dune said serenely and Micah faced forward again.

"Stuart's invited. I don't think he's decided if he was going or not, but at least they've opened a dialogue."

"Is it in Paris?" Micah asked.

"I think so."

"How do you know so much about Stuart's family?" Dune said to Micah. "I didn't know he even had kids."

"Stuart tells me stuff." Micah sounded smug. "He has three: two daughters and a son, and they've always lived with their mother and she doesn't talk to Stuart anymore because he came out."

"Stuart's bi?" Dune turned to ask Leo. "I always thought he only liked guys."

"Sometimes it takes a while to figure your orientation out," Leo said. "He fell in love with at least one woman, enough to have three children."

"You fell in love with Mom but you've never called yourself bi."

"Labels," Leo said.

"I've never even kissed a girl," Micah said. "Have you, Dunie?"

"A few. In high school. Girls loved me."

"I'm not surprised. You're so pretty."

Dune scrubbed his hand through Micah's hair, and Micah ducked away, giggling. Leo looked out the window again.

There was a brief stop -- faster than Leo expected -- at the consulate to drop off their passport applications and pay the fees, and then back into the car again to go home. Leo wanted to call Stuart and tell him they'd passed the next stage of planning the journey, but felt a bit silly about it. Stuart didn't need to know every little detail.

He saw the boys to their apartment and refused their invitation to stay a while. Frances had given him a box after he'd helped them pack: mementos from college and books she'd forgotten to return, things she didn't think they'd need in Florida but didn't want to give or throw away.

Leo had not opened the box yet. Frances had packed him away, he thought, finally closed the book on him. She'd always be Dune's mother, of course, but she was done looking after Leo. No matter how often she offered to stay if he needed her, he couldn't actually ask her to stay, not when she and Ocean were on the verge of living their dream.

Leo opened a beer, sat on the floor, and opened the box. There was a note on top.

"Leo,

You know how I can never throw anything away. I think for once this is useful, as I found all these lovely pictures of Malcolm and you from the theater days. I know you miss him. I hope these will help you miss him a little less.

Love,

Fran."

He smiled and put the note aside, and took out the old programs. She had tucked the pictures inside: a few of them were labeled but most weren't, and it took him a few minutes to put names to all the faces. Some he couldn't, but that was only to be expected after twenty years.

He had to chuckle at the one of him as Caliban, his largest role under Malcolm's direction. Malcolm had wanted Caliban to look like an elemental, something ancient and decidedly not human, so Leo had been painted gray and had lumps of clay stuck to his face and body to make him look like living rock.

Jack had once told him Malcolm had always wanted him to play Macbeth, but the play was so dark he didn't like to do it more than once a decade. Leo had quit the company before the time came around again.

Leo missed Malcolm fiercely. He'd lost Adam, but at least Adam was still alive. He could only guess Jack felt the same way, only intensified.

Someone knocked on his door before he could get too maudlin. Leo pushed himself to his feet to open it, and smiled when he saw Jamie standing there.

"How are you holding up?" Jamie said as Leo hugged him in greeting.

"I'm holding up. One step at a time. Come in, come in." Leo added. Jamie came into the apartment and Leo shut the door behind him. "Dune and I got our passport pictures taken today, and took the applications to the consulate. We should have the passports in a few weeks."

"That's great. I'm so excited for this trip." Jamie knelt on the floor beside the open box. "What's this?"

"Things Frances has bequeathed to me." Leo knelt on the floor too. "Memories."

Jamie picked up the program Leo had been looking at. "Which one are you?"

"This one." He pointed to himself. "Caliban."

"Remind me which one he is -- he's the demon?"

"Familiar, more like," Leo said. "Prospero's familiar. It depends on if you think Prospero was a wizard or not. I've never been wholly convinced. I like thinking he was a scholar more than a magician." He pointed to the young man next to him. "And that's David Campbell at twenty. He played Ferdinand -- the one who gets the girl in the end."

Jamie glanced up with a mischievous smile. "You can say 'I knew him when.'"

"That and two dollars will buy you a cup of coffee," Leo replied.

"I need to see the play again," Jamie said. "It's been years. Ben and I don't get out to the theater enough."

"Going to bed before midnight will do that," Leo said, amused.

"I know. I wish he'd go wholly into wedding cakes. Then he could make his own hours and not have to be up at the crack of dawn every day. Matthew and Chris can handle the daily baking." He sighed and put the program back into the box. "Or even open up his own shop, but every time I bring it up he says his father needs him. I don't think Matthew needs him that badly."

"It's scary, going out on your own," said Leo.

"But he refuses to even think about it." He lay back on the floor, his hands behind his head.

"If he doesn't want to, don't push him." Leo leaned back too, resting against the sofa.