Exile

by Caleb James

  Seventeen

  CHARLIE RODE across the Verrazano Bridge after a bizarre afternoon in the park with Alex Nevus, Jerod Haynes, and the wannabe ballerina fairy, Nimby. At first he’d chalked up his obsession with Liam as the damsel-in-distress thing firefighters were prone to, albeit with a gender change. Yet the more he’d listened and asked questions of Alex and Jerod—and even Nimby, or maybe especially her—the more he’d believed there was another world, similar to New York only built on different rules and populated with creatures like those inside the wardrobe. All those long-ago stories Gran would read, they’d all start with a statement of veracity—This is a tale that is ancient and true—and then throw you into a world of warring nations, some human, some fey.

  His head swam. Mostly he worried about Liam. Is he okay? Will I see him again? It ate at him. The dream and Liam’s disappearance from Gran’s. He’s gone. Like to another world. There was more too. Things Alex and Jerod had said about Liam, not just that they didn’t like him, didn’t trust him, but… they said what he said—a whore.

  It was ten after five as he drove the last blocks. He glimpsed the water in the distance, turned onto his block, and stopped. In the drive were his brother Michael’s pickup and Annie’s red Prius. “Shit.” He contemplated sneaking up to his over-the-garage apartment to digest the day. “Not an option.” He’d promised Michael he’d get Gran back, and maybe the noise and bubble of his family would clear his head and get him to think of something other than Liam. Resigned to Sunday dinner at the Fitzgeralds’, he got out.

  His mother appeared behind the front screen door.

  “Charlie, I wondered where you were. Flora said you left hours ago.” She stepped out onto the stoop. “Annie met up with a friend of yours on the ferry and brought him over. I didn’t think you’d mind, so I invited him to dinner.”

  “Who?” he asked, thinking it was someone from high school, or the fire station, or one of his sister’s feeble attempts to find him a boyfriend.

  Katie Fitzgerald glanced back through the screen. She scurried down the steps.

  Charlie kissed his mom on the cheek. “What is it? You’re like the cat with the canary.”

  “Is he your boyfriend, Charlie? Is there something you haven’t told us?”

  “I don’t have a boyfriend, Mom. I’d tell you if I did.”

  Her smile vanished. “Oh… well, he’s very handsome. Is he a model or an actor? He’s got a bit of an accent.”

  “Mom, who’s inside?” Not possible. Wondering… hoping.

  “Annie said it’s the man you got out of that horrible building on Third Street. That she and Daria met him on the ferry… that he was looking for you and didn’t have your address. That seems odd… to come to Staten Island and not know where you’re going. He probably wanted to thank you.”

  “Liam? Liam’s inside?”

  His mother’s gaze narrowed. “Interesting. So this is him? Annie says there’s pictures of you carrying him out of that building… that he was naked and carrying a Chihuahua.”

  Charlie looked up the stairs. He’s here.

  “Charlie? Charlie? World to Charlie.”

  He turned to his mom. She had on makeup, not just her usual swipe of lipstick and pinch of the cheeks. Instead of her usual Sunday dinner apron and ponytail, she wore her favorite green dress. She’d braided her salt-and-pepper hair and pinned it up in a bun. “What?”

  She smiled. “Nothing. We should go in.”

  He nodded, his throat dry, his breath hot through parched lips. Sunday dinner with the family had just turned from a dutiful chore into a minefield. He walked up the steps and held the screen for Mom. He looked in. Yes, a minefield… but bring it on.

  CHARLIE LOOKED around the dining table, draped in a cream-colored cloth and laden with familiar covered dishes—Mom, Dad, his brother Michael, his wife, Dawn, who was also a cop, their five-year-old twins, Corey and Rory, his pregnant sister, Annie, her husband, Sal, little Daria, Gran, and of course, Liam. It felt claustrophobic, which had nothing to do with the remodeled dining room. Expectancy hung in the air, and the usual need to shout over one another to be heard was sadly missing. They’re all on their best behavior…. It won’t last.

  As his mom delivered the last of the steaming red-enamel dishes, this one filled with string beans and almond bits, onto its trivet, he couldn’t take his eyes off Liam, seated directly across, with Daria to his right and sister Annie on the left. He seemed less skittish, his long hair tied back, his violet eyes alive and expressive. Someone had dressed him a bit more formal in one of Charlie’s blue flannel shirts and a pair of jeans, probably a leftover from his brother Michael. How can he look so comfortable? How does someone do that in a room full of my family?

  Annie said grace, and as the round of “Amens” filled the room, he thought of Alex and Jerod’s warnings about Liam, how he seduced strangers at the bidding of an evil queen. He sipped ice water, his mouth way too dry. The glass sweated, cool and wet in his hand. Was that what this was? Have I been seduced by an evil queen? The thought sent the water down the wrong pipe. He choked. Water snorted up his nostrils. He grabbed for a cloth napkin.

  “Charlie,” Gran said. “Tell me what’s wrong, dear.”

  Oh no you don’t. He understood her deliberate words and how they were intended for him and Liam. I will not be the toy. “Nothing.” He hoped that would be the end of it. But in a room with three cops, his sister the nurse, Mom, who had thirty years with the city as a court social worker, and Gran, the games had just started.

  His mom kicked it off. “So, Liam, what do you do?”

  Liam paused. “At this moment I’m working to find information.”

  “From us?” she asked.

  “I don’t think so, although I hope Charlie can help.”

  “And how did you two meet?” Michael’s wife, Dawn, who’d been the last to arrive with the twins, asked.

  “He rescued me from a building on fire.”

  “It was on the news,” Mike Fitzgerald said.

  “And there’s pictures all over the Internet,” brother Michael added. “You know, they’re calling you Naked Chihuahua Guy.”

  “Michael! Not at the table.” Katie cast her son a warning glance.

  “I’m just saying…. Where were your clothes, dude?”

  “Michael, stop it!”

  Liam wasn’t thrown. “It’s a good question. I don’t have an answer.” He took a bite of sweet potato casserole with candied pecans baked on top and sprinkled throughout. “This is delicious.”

  “Thank you,” Katie said. “It’s Gran’s recipe.”

  Gran nodded. “Some traditions get kept. Others… not so much. It’s interesting, though.” From her vantage point of sitting next to Charlie and across from Liam, she took her shot, weighing just how much information she would share with the whole family and what she would keep to herself. “Tell me how it is, Liam, that you don’t remember how you came to be naked in a burning building.”

  Liam nodded. He looked around the table and ended with Charlie.

  It was freakishly quiet, every member of the Fitzgerald clan unsettled by the beautiful man’s violet gaze. “There’s much that I do not remember of that night. I do remember your kindness in letting me stay in your home.”

  “But you left without saying anything,” Gran replied.

  “I did…. I had to.”

  “Where did you go?” she persisted.

  Liam glanced across at Charlie. “Someone took me home.”

  Gran looked from Liam to Charlie. “Who?”

  Charlie nodded. “I think I did.”

  “What? Huh? What’s with all the secrets?” Annie asked, aware that there was far more unsaid than spoken. “Where do you live?”

  Liam looked at the various foods on his plate and at the still steaming sweet potato casserole. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I think Charlie and his Gran would rather I not say.”

  “That’s cryptic,” Charlie’s dad replied.
He looked to his mother. “Why wouldn’t you want the boy to tell us where he lives? You’ve got a bit of an accent. I’d guess Ireland, but unless you and Charlie have been doing the red-eye from LaGuardia, it’s not possible.”

  “Dad, everyone, can we please just eat?” Charlie pleaded, the room way too close. His cheeks burned. This is not going to end well.

  “Of course,” his mom said. “It must have been so frightening, the fire. And that you were able to save that little boy’s dog.”

  “His name was Max,” Liam said.

  “The boy?”

  “No, the dog. And yes, very frightening. I would be dead if it weren’t for Charlie. I’d like more of those.”

  “Of course. Michael, pass Liam the sweet potatoes.”

  Unaware of the eleven sets of eyes fixed on him, Liam spooned the delicious mash onto his plate, pushing aside the mostly uneaten brisket, green beans, and buttered roll. With a forkful in his mouth, he looked up. He swallowed the warm sweetness and crunched down on a candied pecan. “So good. So yes, the fire. You have a very brave son, brother, uncle, and grandson.”

  “You gave the dog back to the little boy,” Daria said.

  “Yes, though in truth, I found comfort in the little thing. I was sorry to lose him. But he wasn’t mine to keep.”

  “It must have been terrifying,” Annie said. “Do you think that maybe you’re still in shock, and that’s why you can’t remember things?”

  “It’s possible,” Liam said. “Much is confused.”

  Brother Michael lobbed the next bomb. “Three people died in that fire.”

  Liam stiffened. “I did not know that. Though I am not surprised. That is very sad.” Tears welled, and he looked at Charlie. He put down his fork. “I did not know that.”

  “It was too late for them,” Charlie said, not wanting to give the details of a mother and two children who’d not made it out, not with so many young ears at the table.

  Looks bounced among the adults. This felt familiar. Death and tragedy were no strangers at the Fitzgerald table, which beneath its starched cloth bore the high-tide mark of Hurricane Sandy.

  Mike Fitzgerald, who’d had the hardest time accepting his youngest boy was gay, had put the pieces together. “It’s just the way it is,” he said. “You can’t save everyone. But he saved you, and you got a little boy his dog back. I always thought Charlie should have been a cop.”

  In unison, Charlie and his brother said, “Here it comes.”

  “No, seriously,” their dad said, having worn this chestnut smooth over the years. “But”—with fork raised, he added—“you have to let your children find their own way.”

  “It’s true,” Liam said. “Forcing people to your will leads to unhappiness and assassinations.”

  Charlie choked on his brisket.

  Gran, who’d stayed uncharacteristically quiet, spoke. “Michael, if Charlie is up to it, why don’t he and Liam take me back tonight.”

  Brothers Michael and Charlie exchanged glances, having already cut that deal. “Sure, Gran,” Charlie said, aware that the conversation that had begun when he’d brought Liam to her apartment and had continued through their boozy brunch was not finished.

  His family’s protectiveness, curiosity, and dogged pursuit of answers was palpable. Liam’s every word, his grace, the foreign lilt in his voice, were like chum in a sea full of sharks. Yes, so far Liam had dodged the nutso stuff, but how long could that last? Charlie’s best strategy was to throw them off the scent. “I saw Finn Hulain today. He’s doing the arson investigation. The building has a shady history.”

  “Finn… we’ve not seen him lately,” his father said.

  “You should have invited him,” his mother said as she looked across at her husband. The mention of their oldest boy’s best friend was like dust falling on a grave.

  “I didn’t think of it,” Charlie admitted.

  “So what’s the deal? If it’s arson, it’s also murder,” Dad stated.

  Charlie steered the conversation to the frauds perpetrated by the building’s owner.

  It worked for a bit. But five-year-old Daria was bored by the cop talk. She tapped Liam’s arm and asked the question on everyone’s too polite minds. “Is Uncle Charlie your boyfriend?”

  Dead silence. Forks hung in midair, mouths in midchew.

  Liam looked at Daria. “I am unworthy of your uncle’s love. I hope we might be friends.”

  Charlie was taken aback. The answer hurt. He looked around at the awkward expressions of his adult family members, none of them willing to look him in the eye, as though they’d all become fascinated by their food. Liam’s response had done the impossible: shut them up.

  Gran smiled and took a deep draw on her second, possibly third, glass of lager.

  Corey, the twin on Charlie’s left, asked the obvious follow-up. “Why? Why aren’t you worthy?”

  “Shh!” his mother hushed him.

  Gran looked at Liam, her right brow cocked.

  Liam nodded. “Because your uncle Charlie races into buildings to save strangers. I’m more likely to do the opposite.”

  “Enough,” Mike Fitzgerald said from the head of the table. “Liam is our guest and has been through an awful experience. So, Michael, your turn. Anything interesting at the precinct?”

  AS KATIE, Annie, and Dawn got up to clear the dishes and get dessert, Charlie seized the moment. He looked at Liam “You want to go for a walk?” He felt the weight of his dad’s and brother’s gaze and didn’t care. Please say yes.

  “I’d like that.”

  “And you’ll be back in time to take me home,” Gran said.

  “Yes.”

  Without further discussion, Charlie headed out with Liam. “I’m sorry about that,” Charlie said.

  “No need. You have a beautiful family. They all love you.”

  Charlie looked down the quiet street and, with Liam at his side, crossed to the shore. “I still can’t get over that you’re here,” he said.

  Liam gazed out at frothy waves. “It reminds me of home.”

  “Which would be where, exactly?”

  “Charlie, enough with the questions, especially when I think you know many of the answers.”

  “Right. So here’s one I don’t understand. How did you come to be in Alex Nevus’s old apartment?”

  Liam startled. “Not possible. That building… not possible.”

  “Truth.”

  “I do not know.” He looked at Charlie and ached. I’m so sorry. Charlie was in love… with him. He knew the signs well, the way his dark blue eyes sought out his, the deference in his words and gestures, his hunger, barely restrained. I am sorry, and I could swim in those eyes forever. “I should not have come here, Charlie. I did because I need help, and you’re the only one I know.”

  “Not feeling special here.”

  “Charlie, I am unworthy of you, and that is truth. I don’t know how to make you understand, and yet I must. What you feel for me is glamour. It’s not truth. The travel between worlds took my magic, but that remains. I am a whore, Charlie. It’s been my truth since I was a child. It’s what I was raised to be and to do.”

  Charlie’s jaw twitched. “I see. So what you’re saying is my feelings aren’t real, and that you’re just here to use me.”

  “Yes. Correct.”

  Charlie stood side by side with Liam as he looked out at the water. “Fine… whatever, but I still want to know how you came to Alex Nevus’s apartment. Do you know him?” Charlie couldn’t figure why he felt so furious, why he was deliberately trying to trick Liam, to catch him in lies.

  “We have met. Not here.”

  “In the Unsee.”

  “You know things today you did not know at the fire.”

  “Yes, I tracked down Alex and his boyfriend.”

  Liam perked. “They are well? They are alive!”

  “Yes.”

  “I must see him.”

  “He said you tried to seduce him.”

&
nbsp; “’Tis truth.”

  “And that you tried to have him abandon his dying boyfriend.”

  “Enough, Charlie, I told you what I am and what I have done.”

  “You did.”

  “Do you still intend to seduce him?” Charlie asked, remembering Jerod’s cryptic warning—The fey don’t lie, but they certainly don’t tell the truth.

  “No. He was immune to me. I need to see him, Charlie. I bring a message from his mother. I have information he will be glad of, and I need to know things of him.”

  “So your coming here tonight…. I suppose it was to see me, but not for—”

  “Charlie. No. I have tasks to perform, and there is little time. I have hurt you… I hurt you now. I’m sorry.”

  Charlie’s cell rang. He pulled it out and saw F. Fitzgerald on the screen. “Gran?”

  “It’s getting late. You ready to drive me home?”

  “Sure. Be right in.” He hung up and looked at Liam. “Alex and Jerod said some wild things. I saw a real fairy… a little bug named Nimby. Daria and my nephews would go bonkers if they knew she existed. What kind of tasks are we talking about? According to Alex, where you come from is a dangerous place.”

  “We shouldn’t keep your gran waiting, Charlie.”

  “You don’t want to tell me. I suppose that’s your right.”

  “I promised to do you no harm, Charlie, and I’ve done the opposite. Please, let me think a bit. Bring your gran home, and then….”

  “And then what?”

  “I don’t know, Charlie.” And without giving a response, Liam turned and walked back toward the Fitzgeralds’.

  Eighteen

  GRAN SAID her good-byes to the family, with hugs and kisses and the extraction of a promise that everyone would go to Mass.

  All appeared normal, and Charlie knew it wasn’t. Gran had held her tongue for hours. It would not last. With trepidation, he took her arm and helped her up into the front of his truck.

  Liam hung back, not intending to join them.