Sonata

by A. F. Henley

  "Supervised kids," his mind reminded him silently.

  "Still ..." he told it back.

  "Behave yourself," it warned him. "Most of these parents care just as much as you do."

  It was an admission that almost bested him. Standing over the table, turning the simple photo-copied paper that showed the whos and the whats that would nervously be providing their entertainment, trying to find Cole's name, Ian almost lost the hold on his resolve not to cry. Because he did care as much as any of the parents sitting in plastic chairs and watching their little ones do whatever it was they were about to do. He cared a fuck of a lot, in fact. He worried and he wondered and he hoped and he prayed. There were nights he couldn't sleep and times he couldn't concentrate. And he realized right then and there that it didn't mean one damn thing if it was his seed that Cole had sprung from, or Justin's, or the man-in-the-flipping-moon's. He cared about Cole with a ferocity that had nothing to do with spawning and everything to do with Cole himself.

  It hurt that he was gone. It hurt that he wasn't a part of Ian's life. Almost as much as it hurt to be without—

  "They're about to start," a gentle voice cut the thought off before it could go any further. "Can I help you find a seat?"

  Ian turned towards the woman and began to dig in his jacket. "I have an invitation ..."

  She ignored the movement and stuck her hand out with a wide smile. "So glad you could join us. I'm Mrs. Kamada, the principal here at Lakeland."

  Ian fumbled his hand out and reached for hers instead. "Pleasure. I'm Ian James. I'm not ... I mean, I don't have ..."

  "You're here for Cole," she said warmly. "His mother asked me to watch for you. She said you'd be the well-dressed, good-looking gentleman that had no clue what to do or where to go." She released his hand and tilted her head. "She was right."

  Ian's panic grew. Why, he couldn't really say. But the fact that Cole's mother had said to watch out for him made Ian extremely nervous. Had she been pressured to allow him to come but held secret trepidations that Ian was going to try something stupid? Like she was worried Ian had somehow been involved in Cole's abduction? Did she think he was some kind of pedophile? Was she worried about trusting him? After all … Justin had been young …

  "Justin was twenty-two," he told himself angrily. Young, yes, but far from a child. Well within legal boundaries. Moral ones, however ...

  "Stop," he said, not realizing he'd spoken the word aloud until the principal looked up.

  "Are you all right?"

  "I'm fine," he lied and the bright smile found her lips yet again. He sighed and chuckled. "Nervous. I'm nervous, if you can believe it."

  "We all get nervous for them," she confirmed. "Follow me."

  The lights had been lowered in the gym and most of the parents and supporters were already seated when the doors were opened and they walked through. A hot flush of embarrassment ran through Ian's insides as the light from the hallway streamed into the darkened setting and what seemed like billions of eyes swiveled to watch them enter. He resisted the ridiculous urge to wave at them all and lowered his eyes. "I can just find a seat back here," Ian whispered, following the principal towards the front of the gym.

  "Actually, the Matthews are sitting up front. We thought it would be helpful if Cole could see some familiar faces." She stopped at the front row and pointed to the one empty seat. "To be honest, Mr. James, I'm really, really glad you decided to come. It would have been heart-breaking to see Cole stare at an empty chair." She reached for his arm and gave it a light squeeze. "Good luck."

  He'd tell himself later that it was the dark. That he didn't notice because he was watching his feet and nodding apologetically to those he stepped in front of. In all honesty, Ian just plain old didn't recognize the person to the right of the empty chair. The man's back was turned, Ian would also say in his defense, and was caught in a conversation with a plain looking woman who couldn't stop staring at Ian. It was the woman's stare that made Ian understand he'd been seated with the actual family. It was also the woman's stare that made the young man she spoke to turn around. "What's wrong?" Ian heard the young man say and the voice was so startlingly familiar that Ian's feet fumbled and his knees threatened to let go.

  "You okay, buddy?" the man directly in front of him asked, rising to grab Ian by the arm.

  "I'm … f—"

  Justin rose from his chair with the slow, stunned expression of a man being met by a ghost. "I-Ian? W-what?" he flashed a quick look back at the woman he'd been talking to. "How?"

  Ian didn't know if he wanted to turn and run or step forward and support Justin like the man who'd stood to help was still supporting Ian. He'd told himself there was no way Justin would be there. He'd told himself that if Justin wasn't in jail, Justin would be so far gone that he'd never find his way home. He reminded himself of restraining orders and police threats. But before he could make sense of any of it, audio feedback split the air and speakers jumped to life.

  "If we could all take our seats and direct our attention up here that would be fantastic," Principal Kamada smiled out at the audience. Lights slowly came up on the stage as a string of wee ones began to step from the wings and find their places on ascending rows at the center.

  "I'm fine," Ian whispered to the man who held him. "Thank you."

  While Mrs. Kamada began to introduce the first act of the evening Justin and Ian both dropped into their respective chairs with their eyes locked on each other.

  "Hi," Ian mouthed. A pointless word. Meaningless, even. In the millions of words Ian wanted to say, needed to say, the fact that all he'd managed was "hi" made him want to hang himself.

  There was a long pause, a fluttering of bottom lip and an almost imperceptible furrow of Justin's brow before he finally formed his own, "Hi." Justin's gaze dropped right after, to Ian's suit, to his shoes, to the flower in Ian's hand and Ian's body reacted before Ian consciously thought about it. He lifted the rose and held it out to Justin. It made sense; yet again the universe had nudged. The floral representation of love at first sight, because, really, hadn't it always been?

  A small smile picked the sides of Justin's lips up, a shake of head that identified the awkward moment and Ian couldn't hold back the grin it brought him. "Thank you," Justin whispered.

  And children began to sing.

  *~*~*

  Ian had no clue what Justin was saying to the woman beside him although he'd heard the word "mom" a few times. The gentleman to the other side of "mom" had leaned forward on more than one occasion and sent Ian a one-brow-cocked stare. Curiosity, Ian told his sweating self, nothing more and pushed from his mind images of enraged switch-wielding beasts and furiously hollering maniacs. Surely these could not be the people that Justin had led him to believe they were? Foster parents? He let his eyes slide to his right, to Justin's knee resting just so slightly against his mother's; the way her shoe brushed against his foot. Even the way they'd leaned in to speak to one another; body language proved familiarity. He seriously doubted that anyone would get that close to another person within months. A child, perhaps. A grown man? Doubtful.

  So he sat through the hour of climbing and descending children in various levels of growth while one class replaced another and did their best to out sing the last, and he mused. And he considered. And he reckoned and he figured until the questions in his head felt like they were going to burst out his ears and wail through the building like Spielberg's ark dwellers. Yet every moment of agonizing worry was worth the struggle in exchange for the flush of pride when four lanky, awkward boys rolled the piano on to the stage. It was a short spike however, as three different children followed, each taking their turn at the bench to play their own pieces.

  When the time finally came and Cole walked from the wing, Ian knew he could have waited a decade in that plastic chair to be there for the moment. Cole walked straight-backed, heel-toe, heel-toe, in a shiny pair of dress shoes and a pressed tux and Ian swallowed a newly developed lump in his throat t
hat put the previous ones to shame. He stopped dead center of the stage, sheets of music gripped to his chest and bowed into a perfect "L" before snapping back up again. Small chuckles broke out around them and Ian couldn't hold back his own grin. He looked older, Ian thought. Taller. Could just a few short months do that to a boy? Erratic sentiment pinged through Ian's blood: nostalgic disappointment, defeat, anger at the way age sped one through life.

  Then Cole looked down. He didn't smile. He didn't wave. But he saw. And Ian knew he saw because for the briefest second of time, Ian saw something in Cole's eyes that he'd never seen before. Joy.

  *~*~*

  "You didn't tell me he was my age," the unidentified man grumbled at the woman labeled mom while the group of them stood in front of their vacated seats.

  "Oh God, Chris," she laughed. "You wish!"

  Justin twisted the program in his hands like it was rosary beads. Words appeared to light, and then die on Justin's tongue if facial expression could be trusted. The air was heavy with awkward silence.

  "Justin," the woman finally suggested. "Why don't you make sure Cole gets back here without incident and give me a moment with Ian?"

  Ian waited for Justin to nod, spin on his heels and hurry away before Ian turned and spoke. "I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage. You know my name but I don't know yours?"

  "Rachel," she said and then turned to drag the other man towards them. "And this is Chris." They shook hands, stiffly, and not without Chris getting in a good eye-dig and not without Ian failing to hold it and dropping his eyes like a coward.

  Rachel waited for Ian to look up and reached for his hand. There was no shake though. She took his hand between both of hers and held it there without releasing. "I understand that we have you to thank for the return of our sons."

  "I …" Ian paused, thought, "No. You don't. Your thanks would belong to an associate of mine. But I was working on it." He shook his head and chuckled dryly. "It's a long story. Kind of confusing."

  Rachel nodded. "Justin told us that you were making plans to bring them in as the police found you. I didn't know whether to believe him or not. It's easy to say things like that after the fact, you know?"

  Ian shrugged. "I won't try to sway you, Rachel. I'm quite done trying to please everyone around me. I will confirm the truth of what Justin told you. But I won't preach it. You'll believe me, or you won't. That's your prerogative." He shuffled his feet and looked around the emptying gym.

  "I know," she smiled and her face suddenly bloomed. "There's our boy!"

  They didn't throw themselves at each other and they didn't hug. While Rachel gushed to the point of over-dramatic, the rest of them stood around and found things to study on the ceiling. And as the time got closer to saying good-bye, it got harder and harder for Ian not to bolt from the room. He almost didn't hear Justin's "Can I walk to your car with you?" So it took too many seconds for his brain to fumble a reply.

  "Of course!" Ian looked from face to face. "I can drive you home … I mean if you wanted to … so your parents don't have to wait … "

  "Oh!" Rachel caught on immediately and nodded quickly. "Yes! Why don't you drive Justin home for us? After you talk? That's a great idea!" She patted her husband's arm. "Don't you think that's a great idea, Chris?"

  "It's okay?" Ian asked Chris directly. "I don't want to screw up any probation or anything. Or get him in trouble if you've set rules or boundaries."

  The two men stared a long time. Even while Rachel rattled off the absurdity of the thought of Justin being on probation. Even while Justin and Rachel began to makes plans between the two of them. Even when Chris reached into his pocket and pulled out his Blackberry. "I suppose that would be all right with me," Chris said, finally lowering his eyes to his phone. "I think I'll take your number though. I know Justin's a man and all but …" Once again he was leveling his gaze with Ian's. "No matter how old they are, they're always your boy."

  Ian confirmed with a single nod. "Yes, sir."

  *~*~*

  "He was good wasn't he?" Justin said, turning his face up and into the light drizzle. He'd turned down the offer of walking under Ian's umbrella; a reply which hadn't surprised Ian in the least. Although he told himself it was Justin's enjoyment of the rain and not the fact that Justin just didn't want to stand that close to him that had Justin slowly getting wetter.

  "Cole, you mean?"

  Justin confirmed with a nod, little beads of water falling from bangs that seemed that much longer now that they were weighted down. Ian stopped walking and sighed. "Can we do niceties later?"

  Justin's impassive expression tightened into a frown.

  "I need … we need … I have questions." Ian stumbled over the demand but since his mind was screaming for clarification, Ian knew there was no way he could not continue. "And I really don't want to do this with you feeling like you're trapped in my car."

  Justin's eyes fell to the rose, his fingers steadily spinning the stem, making the bloom dance. He didn't reply.

  Ian lifted his chin and forced himself to continue. "Like, let's start with, why aren't you in jail?"

  "I was." Justin snorted a quick, mirthless laugh. "But it was just a holding cell. Nothing dramatic. I was there for two days."

  When he fell silent, Ian prompted, "And?"

  "And then I was brought to the psych ward."

  "The …" Ian's voice trailed away. It took him a couple of seconds to find it again. "Why?"

  Justin ran a hand through his hair, pressing wet locks off his forehead before looking up at the leaking sky. "They made me do a bunch of tests. They wanted to make sure I wasn't nuts, I guess. Apparently I wasn't, so there was a judge. And lots of explaining. I'm in therapy," Justin told him with an embarrassed smile. "Personal and family counseling. It's weird but it's nice to have someone to talk to."

  "But why?" Ian frowned. "Why counseling and not county? Why are you here? Why haven't they disowned you and insisted you never come into contact with Cole again? It makes no sense?"

  Justin refused to lock eyes with him. Though Justin would flash quick glances up, the moment their eyes met, Justin's gaze would either drop or fly away. "Actually it was my parents that spoke to the judge. They were the ones that suggested the counseling and told him I'd have a place to stay and they'd get me in school."

  Ian's fingers tightened on the umbrella's handle. "But … Why? I mean … " Ian could feel himself getting antsy. "What I'm trying to say is, these people don't sound like the people you told me they were. Was that not true? Am I missing something?"

  Justin's denial was sudden, loud and surprisingly heartfelt. "No! It was true. I swear to God it was true. I guess …" he wrapped his arms around himself and pulled them tight. "My mother says that four years of worry changes a person. When we left, when they couldn't find us, things got ugly. Dad was freaking in the way that only Dad could back then, she accused him of forcing us away, he accused her of being too absent, and they both accused the investigators of being idiots. Things escalated, Dad got violent, Mom got fed up and she left him. Losing her too was the straw that broke him though. He went into counseling and begged Mom to go with him. That's what they spent the next couple of years doing. Relearning life. Together. While I was wasting my life and wasting Cole's, they were sitting here waiting for us. Praying for us. Wishing that we would come home."

  There were tears in Justin's eyes when he finally let himself find Ian's. "I have this problem I guess. I react badly and then I don't know how to take what I've done back. Then I get scared because so much time passes. You know what I mean, Ian? You know what I'm saying?"

  Ian nodded his head yes even though his heart was telling him there was more to the words then he'd quite caught yet. It was an inkling that was confirmed when Justin suddenly stepped closer and a tear slipped out of his eye to mingle with the rain. "I never wanted you to die, Ian. I never meant that. When they told me what had happened, I just … I couldn't …"

  Ian told himself that the shake i
n Justin's bottom lip should not be sexy. Himself, in turn, told Ian to keep that damn foolish talk to itself, then shoved aside Ian's self-control, forced Ian's fingers to drop the umbrella and had Justin's body in Ian's arms before either of them knew what was happening. "Justin."

  Justin's body felt like it had been chipped from ice and not just temperature-wise, either. His muscles were tight and stiff; the tension had turned Justin into rock. "Justin, you idiot. You had nothing to do with what happened. I hadn't been feeling right for a while."

  Ian didn't let go even though there was no give in Justin's body.

  "I know," Justin sniffed. "I mean, I told myself that had to be true. But most times I couldn't make myself believe it. And then time kept passing and, well, who doesn't make sure that the person they love is okay, right? Who doesn't call? I felt like such an asshole that I wanted to kill myself."

  Ian growled and tightened his grip. "Don't you ever say that!" He pulled back, both hands on Justin's shoulders, shaking lightly. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to live without you? Do you know how much worse that would be if you were actually gone-gone? Like forever-gone?"

  The rigidity in Justin's muscles finally let go. And as it melted out of Justin's body, he crushed himself into Ian with a heart-wrenching sigh. Ian spoke with his lips in Justin's hair, "Thank you for finally contacting me."

  Justin snort-laughed against Ian's neck, "I didn't. I had no idea you would be here tonight. That was all Mom and Cole apparently."

  "Really?" The amazement in Ian's voice was obvious.

  "Yeah," Justin nodded. "Really."

  When the first touch of lips found the side of his neck, Ian couldn't tell if he flinched from the cold skin, or the electrical surge that rushed through his guts. A half dozen more followed them, and each one carried the zing that had come with the first. There had been too many nights of flash-images on the back of eyelids while friction tried to stand in for another body. So when Justin purred the string of words, "I've thought about you so many times," Ian didn't need to guess what Justin was talking about. Ian knew that need.