Perfect Day

by Sally Malcolm

  “For you too, right?”

  Joshua acknowledged it with a nod and sipped his coffee, turning his gaze back to the window.

  Sean sighed. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, what Finn did was amazing. He—Without him, I don’t know where I’d be. Not here, that’s for sure. But, man, does it make him a douche sometimes.”

  “It does?”

  “We live on opposite coasts and he still tries to micromanage my life. And not just mine—like, everyone around him too.” He huffed a laugh. “‘Sean,’” he said, in a passable impersonation of Finn’s gruff voice, “‘I hear it snowed in New York. You got your snow chains on?’”

  Joshua couldn’t help smiling. “I can see why that would be irritating.”

  “You have no idea,” Sean said with a grin. “But, actually, you might not escape. He was grumbling about the tread on your tires the other day.”

  “My tires?” His heart gave a jolt, but luckily Sean misinterpreted his astonishment.

  “Seriously, that’s what he’s like. You should get on that, too, or he’ll be riding your ass about it when he’s here for Thanksgiving.” He smiled, fonder. “I still think he likes cars better than acting, but I guess the pay’s not so good.”

  Joshua nodded, trying not to react to the fact that Finn would be back for Thanksgiving. In just a couple of weeks.

  “So, listen, I’ve got some work to do.” Sean nodded toward his laptop and a stack of files sitting on the kitchen table. “You just do what you need to, okay?”

  Pulling his mind back into focus, Joshua nodded. “Thank you. I’ll just be a couple hours.”

  To be walking around the house again was stranger than Joshua had admitted, and with Tejana back in New York the place was empty besides himself and Sean. And although it had been years since he’d lived here, everything still felt familiar. Echoes of his life reverberated all around him: Michael’s sharp laughter, often cruel, his father’s cold and weighty presence. Maya and her cookies. And Finn.

  Always Finn.

  He remembered the first time he’d stepped into the house, looking sheepish and out of place. Joshua had hated seeing him like that, as if Finn had anything to be ashamed of there. His father, down for the weekend, had called him “Callaghan” and given curt instructions about one of the cars. Finn had nodded, Yes sir, and all but tugged his forelock.

  Joshua had left them to it, sickened in a way he only recognized later as dread. He’d known all along that his father would never approve of his relationship with Finn, for obvious homophobic reasons, but the way he’d looked at him that day—as somehow beneath him, less worthy of his respect—hurt in an unexpected way.

  He’d known then that the only way to be with Finn would be to cast off his whole family. Maybe he would have done it too, if Ruth hadn’t intervened with her oh-so-reasonable warnings about what their relationship might do to Finn’s prospects.

  Those memories crowded him as he climbed the sweeping staircase to the bedrooms to take photos of his mother’s dresser. He’d have liked to buy it himself, but the court wouldn’t allow any sale below market price. The dresser stood in what had been his mother’s room, but was now an empty guest room, and he trailed his fingers over the honey-colored wood and tried to conjure up the memory of her touch.

  He didn’t remember her face, aside from in photos, but he could still remember the way she’d brush her fingers from the bridge of his nose up into his hair to soothe him at night. He remembered how she’d creep out of his room when she thought he was asleep, and how he’d let her go because he knew she was tired and sick and didn’t want to make it worse.

  There was no trace of her in the room now, though, just a dusty disused scent. He took his pictures and left, closing the door behind him.

  Downstairs he photographed a few paintings stacked up in the front drawing room. He didn’t blame Sean and Tejana for not wanting them; they were ugly, pretentious things. His father didn’t have an artistic bone in his body and he’d probably only bought them as an investment. Joshua cared nothing for any of them.

  Everything else on the list was pretty generic and he tagged them with sticky colored spots so the clearance people would know what to take when they came.

  That left two other items, both of which were painful in different ways. He had to brace himself for both: the cars, still in the garage, and the grand piano in the music room.

  He decided to deal with the cars first. A little fresh air would clear his head and he only had happy memories of those cars and that garage.

  The afternoon had turned into one of those glorious sunny autumn days, the fallen leaves crisp as they danced across the grass. His father would have had the leaf blowers out, but Joshua liked the way the leaves gathered at the edges of the lawn. It made the place look real—less like a garden and more like the countryside. The windows of the garage reflected the sunlight, glinting in cool imitation of those heated summer days when he’d escaped the stultifying silence of the house to practice his guitar, Finn humming along as he worked.

  Oh, the ways they’d looked at each other before it all started! He smiled, felt a nostalgic pool of heat at the memory of all that banked tension, uncertain yet full of youthful hope. Those were the days indeed.

  When he slid the heavy garage door open now, the air inside felt chilled. Dusty, like his mother’s room. But this place had always been something of a museum, devoid of life aside from those days when he and Finn had made it theirs. The cars hadn’t moved and he trailed a finger across the hood of something black and shiny, leaving a mark in the thin layer of dust. He’d always made a point of not learning the names of the cars, as if that small defiance of his father’s will had been all he could muster.

  As he considered how to get rid of them, his eyes fell on one car—he’d probably been unconsciously looking for it—and he stilled. He and Finn had taken to driving the red convertible. He remembered sitting in the back seat while Finn worked, his feet propped up on the door as he scribbled away at his endless compositions. As if he could ever have captured that summer in his own music when it was so dominated by the music they’d shared: Zeppelin, Skynyrd, Robert Plant.

  Footsteps echoing, he made his way across the garage. The car door opened smoothly and he barely hesitated before slipping into the back seat. The leather felt cool under his fingertips—he remembered the feel of it against his bare back that one night they’d driven up into the woods and made love beneath the stars. Leaning his head back, he stared up at the garage ceiling and wondered, not for the first time, whether he should leave New Milton. He hadn’t intended to stay beyond that first summer. He’d intended to make his peace with his past and move on—but somehow, he’d lingered.

  Part of it was the people, Dee and her daughters, Liz and the kids at school—a found family, of sorts. Part of it was a sense of belonging, the feeling that this place was closer to home than anywhere else in the world. And, when he thought about it with clear eyes, he had to admit that part of it had been a misguided dream that Finn might one day return to claim him.

  But that dream was over now, so perhaps it was time to cut the tethers of home and friends and give himself a chance to build a life. He could take up his music again, reach for the dreams he’d abandoned. He could be free of the creeping melancholy that had rendered him aimless all these years. Maybe he could even find something like the happiness he’d once known with Finn, with someone else. Someplace else.

  With an inconclusive sigh he got out of the car, closed the door, and took the requisite photos of all the cars. By the time he was done the afternoon had faded, turning the sky a deep sunless blue. He had one last thing to do, the one thing he’d been dreading most, but it had to be done and it wouldn’t take long.

  The music room door was closed and creaked slightly—like it always had—when he opened it. On the threshold, he paused. This was where he’d last see
n Finn, where Joshua had torn it all down.

  That day, the French windows had stood open to the tail end of summer and Finn had stepped inside, curious at the summons, surprising Joshua before he was ready. He’d been shaking, braced against the piano as he’d rehearsed the words over and over in his mind, and he’d jumped when Finn had spoken.

  Hey, Josh, what’s up?

  Joshua cringed from the memory, his regrets coiling tight, and turned his attention to the piano. This, he realized, was the only part of the house he missed. The mediocre upright he had in the cottage couldn’t compare to the mellow beauty of the grand, and despite—or more likely because of—his melancholy his fingers itched to touch the keys. Sean wouldn’t mind, even if he could hear him all the way in the kitchen. Which he couldn’t.

  Before he could second-guess himself, he opened the piano and pulled out the stall. He brushed his fingers lightly over the keys, relishing the silk of the ivory, leaned down to inhale the scent. He flexed his fingers, stretched them, and ran an arpeggio up and down the keyboard. His eyes closed at the sound, at the memory of it. Hours—he’d spent hours of his youth at this piano.

  He noticed it was a semitone sharp, but it probably hadn’t been tuned in years. Not since he left. Aside from his mother, no one else had played. Still, it sounded better than his piano at home and he couldn’t resist. He played the first few bars of the Chopin he’d been working on and stopped to listen to the sound echo in the empty room. Then he played a few more bars, then carried on and let his eyes close and his mind focus solely on the music and the emotion. Like always, it tugged at him, today more than ever. He could feel it in his heart, loss and grief swelling out of him like he might burst: his mother, his home, and Finn. Always Finn.

  When he reached the end his head sank down and he breathed deeply to bring himself back from the edge, blowing out an audible huff.

  “Wow,” Sean said from the doorway.

  Joshua started at the sound, swiping a hand over his damp eyes as he stood up. “Sean, I’m sorry if I disturbed you.”

  “Don’t be stupid.” Sean stepped into the room. “I had no idea you could play like that, man. I mean, I knew you taught piano, but...wow.”

  Joshua shook his head at the undeserved praise. “It’s not that good, Sean. There was a lot of slack technique in there.”

  “Yeah, well, not that I heard.” He looked genuinely impressed. “Seriously, Joshua—that’s like professional level or something.”

  Closing the lid, he shrugged. “Not really.” He pushed the stool back under the piano. “Besides, anything sounds good played on this. It’s a beautiful instrument.”

  “Yeah,” Sean said. “I wish—I mean, Tejana and I don’t play, so it just seems stupid to keep it.”

  Joshua agreed. “It should definitely go somewhere it gets played.”

  “You, ah...” Sean scratched a hand through his hair. “Could you buy it?”

  He smiled at that, gave a slight laugh. “Even if I could afford it, I’d have nowhere to keep it.” He ran a hand over the wood. “No, it has to go, I’m afraid. I’ll find it a good home.”

  Sean nodded, looking thoughtful. “You know, until it sells... I mean, if you ever want to just come and play, feel free. I mean that. Anytime.”

  “Thanks.” He smiled at Sean’s sincerity, felt the warmth of friendship blossom in his chest. “I might just do that.”

  “In the meantime,” Sean said, “I came to see if you were hungry. I have some leftover veggie paella—it’s awesome. Tejana made it—and a couple beers, if you’re interested?” He gave an awkward shrug. “Kind of quiet here, when she’s away...”

  “I—” Joshua’s instinctive refusal turned into “Thank you, that sounds good.” There was something about Sean he couldn’t resist—much like his brother, yet in a completely different way. Sean was so earnest, so gentle. Maybe trying to build a friendship here was a mistake, but Joshua decided not to play it safe. Where had that ever gotten him, anyway?

  They ate in the kitchen and talked about politics, and local history, and a little about their respective childhoods. Joshua told him about his teaching and his travels, about why he’d decided not to go into the family business, but when Sean said, “So what’s your endgame?” he didn’t have much of an answer.

  “Just be happy, I guess.” He hesitated, considering his nascent intentions to cut his ties with this place, with his past. With Finn. “Find love, if I’m lucky.”

  Sean cocked an eyebrow. “Anyone in mind?”

  The irony made him smile, gaze fixed on the beer bottle label as he carefully peeled it off. “Not really.”

  “You do have to get lucky. Still can’t believe my luck, man.”

  Joshua’s smile turned warmer. “Yes, you’re very lucky. Tejana is lovely.”

  “She is.” After a beat, he said, “I wish Finn had been so lucky, you know? I mean, I know he’s famous and everything, but—” He cut off, like he’d said too much.

  Knowing he shouldn’t press the subject didn’t stop Joshua from doing exactly that. “But what?” he said mildly. “Don’t you think he’s happy?”

  Sean shook his head, looked out at the night-black window. “I know he isn’t. I’m not sure he ever was, you know? All that crap growing up... It’s like he’s always on edge, always looking for something he can’t find.”

  “He’s a very driven person. Ambitious.”

  “Yeah, but more than that. He’s—” Sean lowered his voice. “Sometimes I’m afraid he doesn’t think he deserves to be happy. Like, he just has to act happy instead.” He huffed a bleak laugh. “It’s no coincidence he became an actor, by the way. Finn’s been acting his whole life.”

  Strangely, that was something Joshua didn’t recognize. The Finn he’d known had been...well, happy. Alight with it. Happiness had poured out of him like sunshine.

  It occurred to him then that that Finn might have been unusual and that this closed-off, reserved Finn was normal. “I—” He got cut off by Sean’s phone ringing.

  Sean grinned as he glanced at the caller ID. “Speak of the devil...” He answered the phone with “Were your ears burning, dude?”

  Joshua couldn’t hear Finn, although the knowledge that he was right there on the line made his pulse skitter.

  Sean laughed. “No, she’s still in New York. Joshua is here.” There was a pause. “Yeah, Joshua Newton.” He frowned. “Uh, not that it’s any of your business, but he was here sorting out some of his parents’ stuff and I asked him to stay for dinner.” He rolled his eyes at Joshua and mouthed, See what I mean? Then, to Finn, he said, “That okay with you?” A beat, then an exasperated “Well, I dunno, man, why would you care?” Sean shook his head, but whatever Finn said next made him brighten. “Awesome. Yeah, Tejana’s getting in Wednesday night too.” Startled, Sean looked at the phone and shook his head again. “Yeah, whatever,” he said as he ended the call. But he was smiling when he turned back to Joshua. “My brother,” he said. “I have no idea what’s going on with him sometimes. Seriously.”

  Joshua could imagine. The idea of him sitting there eating dinner with Sean probably pissed Finn off no end. It almost made him laugh. “Finn’s coming for Thanksgiving?”

  “Yeah. I’m excited.” Sean tipped his head. “How about you? You got plans?”

  “The usual.” With luck, that would be enough to deflect Sean’s well-meaning curiosity. To help it along, he glanced at his watch and stood up. “I should get going. Thanks for your hospitality, Sean.”

  “Hey, any time. It was fun.” Getting to his feet, he clapped Joshua on the shoulder. “And I mean it about the piano. If you ever want to play it, just have at it.”

  Joshua found himself caught by Sean’s kind eyes, felt another warm burst of friendly affection. “Thank you, Sean,” he said. “I appreciate that.”

  As he left, he thought he might just
take Sean up on the offer—it had been a long time since he’d played his mother’s piano and he’d never get the chance again once it was sold.

  Chapter Eight

  Joshua spent every day at the school in the week before Thanksgiving weekend. Mostly he bashed out the accompaniment on the school’s old piano as class after class rehearsed their songs, and when he wasn’t doing that he was playing for the soloists.

  He enjoyed it. Every year the school put on a concert and every year Joshua loved the distraction. There was no denying that the holidays were hard. Not in the way that most people thought, of course. He didn’t mind being alone. He much preferred it to spending time with his family. But what he dreaded was other people’s pity and, worse, other people’s invitations to spend Thanksgiving with them. He’d discovered immediately after his father threw him out that there was nothing more guaranteed to make him feel lonely than being part of someone else’s family holiday. He hated being the beggar at the feast, surrounded by warmth and love that he could see but couldn’t feel.

  So, no. He’d rather do what he usually did on Thanksgiving, which was to go for a long walk on the beach, then home for Netflix and one of Dee’s pumpkin pies all to himself. He’d never been afraid of his own company.

  So, when Liz sidled up to him at recess on Monday morning, he braced himself to turn down her offer to join her for Thanksgiving dinner. But that wasn’t what she asked.

  “So, listen,” she said, smiling like she couldn’t help it, “any chance you could watch Matt Wednesday night? After the concert?”

  It took him a beat to change the direction of his thoughts. “Babysit?”

  “If you don’t mind? Just for a couple hours. My usual sitters are busy, you know—the holidays.” She grimaced. “I mean, not that—”

  “It’s fine,” he said, swerving her sympathy. “I’d be happy to watch Matt. Uh, do you want me to come to you or will you bring him over to me?”