Death of a Bachelor

by M. A. Hinkle

  “Sit like a human, Felix,” said Cathal, because Damon was pulling out of the parking lot. Felix obeyed, although he was still bouncing.

  Once they were on the road, Damon said, “I thought Gareth was a jerk.”

  “Well, yeah, but it’s Morgan’s house too, and it’s huge. Their dad is, like, super rich.”

  Damon narrowed his eyes. “Why do I get the feeling that your definition of awesome involves underage drinking?”

  “Dad!” Felix crossed his arms over his chest, looking offended. “First of all, Morgan’s dad is tough as nails, so none of that is happening. Second, even if there was alcohol, you’re the one who’s always saying you trust me not to do that stuff.”

  Damon nodded, chastised. “You can’t blame me for being careful, Felix. I know it takes a lot for you to dislike a person, so I can’t help but be skeptical about this Gareth character.”

  “Morgan keeps saying me and Gareth got off on the wrong foot,” Felix mumbled. “And I guess he’s not so bad. Kind of. If you squint.”

  Cathal looked over his shoulder. “Well, you should start squinting. Siblings are important to any romantic endeavor.”

  Damon snorted.

  Cathal sniffed. “I assume that laughter, Damon, was because you understood my role as gatekeeper for all of Era’s boyfriends, and that is precisely why I understand how important brother figures are. Believe me when I say that none of the men Era dated before you were worth anything.”

  “But you hated Dad!” said Felix.

  Cathal glanced sideways at Damon, but Damon was paying too much attention to the road. His mouth was twitching, but he was determinedly not smiling. “Well, yes, but that doesn’t discount the fact that Era’s other boyfriends were pricks. They would never admit that she was smarter than them. I didn’t like Damon, but I knew he would treat her right.”

  “Are you making stuff up, or are you being serious? Because if I have to get Gareth’s approval to make Morgan like me, I’m screwed. Gareth is, like, allergic to liking things.” Felix paused. “Openly, anyway. He’s actually kind of good at dancing and music and stuff, but he gets all weird if you point that out. I don’t get him. Especially since I’ve heard him be. Like. Really nice with his brother and stuff, even if it was only when they didn’t know I was listening.”

  “I feel like I should scold you for eavesdropping, but honestly, I’m curious where you overheard this since you said that Morgan never talks,” said Damon as he pulled into their driveway.

  “It wasn’t on purpose! I’m slow compared to them, since they’re so tall, so they always beat me around corners before I can tell them that I’m following.” Felix fidgeted. “That doesn’t mean I didn’t like getting to listen. Maybe I should tell him…”

  Cathal shook his head. “Where did you come from?”

  Damon rolled his eyes. “Some of us do know what morals are, Cathal, even if you don’t. It’s lucky you never hung around before this, or my son would be a degenerate like you.”

  “He’s already a degenerate like me, in the most basic sense of the term,” said Cathal. Damon looked confused. “He’s chasing a boy, isn’t he?”

  Damon made an irritated noise. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

  “If you don’t want me to pull your tail, stop making it so easy.”

  “That’s victim-blaming, Cathal,” said Felix, his tone sanctimonious. “Sarah was telling me about it the other day. The oppressor should never tell the oppressed that the oppression is their fault.”

  “I’ve attended that lecture on rape culture, thank you very much. I think your mother gave it a time or two.” Cathal glanced over at Damon, who was already out of the car. “Besides, your father gives as good as he gets.”

  “I know he does. I’m teasing you.” Felix hopped out. “Anyway, you guys hardly fight anymore. It’s weird, but I’m not gonna complain. I hate it when people yell.”

  Cathal waited a moment before following them. If Felix had noticed they were getting along, then things were worse than he thought.

  AT THE FINAL performance, Demetrius flubbed his lines and had to be replaced at the end of act three when he threw up all over backstage. Someone else volunteered to clean it up, thankfully.

  “If Felix gets the flu, you’re dealing with it,” Damon said, elbowing Cathal in the side.

  “Yes, because my bedside manner is to die for. And what are you going to be doing that you can’t take care of your own son? It’s not like you’ve found gainful employment.” Damon made a noncommittal noise, and Cathal glanced at him, so startled he almost forgot to press the button to cue the donkey brays. “Have you?” He sounded pathetic, so he cleared his throat. “I’d hate to think I’d have to shout at an empty house, you know.”

  Damon shifted his weight. “Well, George keeps asking me if I want to work at the bakery. Or join his competition team.”

  Cathal bit the inside of his cheek so he wouldn’t make a face. George wasn’t there to see—he’d volunteered to run the kid to the hospital, since the boy’s parents weren’t at the play. But Cathal didn’t want Damon to see his expression and start asking questions. Cathal wasn’t sure if he could come up with a convincing reason why he didn’t like George. He might end up spitting out the truth, and while he didn’t know much about confessing feelings to other people, he was pretty certain you didn’t do it while on the catwalk above your nephew’s play.

  Damon didn’t continue, which was good, because then Cathal could school his face to disinterested blankness. “So? Are you going to take him up on it then?”

  Damon leaned against the railing. It was too dark up there to read his expression, but Cathal was willing to bet it was inscrutable anyway. “I’m not good enough. And I think he’s only doing it to try and spend more time with me, but I already told him I’m not interested, and he said he’s asking me because I’m the best sculptor he has now that Jenny went on to greener pastures.” He paused. “Jenny was his last gum paste person.”

  “I hate it when you talk about food. You stop using human words and make things up to confuse me.” He narrowed his eyes. “Wait, you told George you weren’t interested in him?”

  Damon looked surprised that it had caught Cathal’s attention. Or surprised about something, anyway. “I’m not, so yes. He was very nice about it. Really embarrassed, but then he said it made it easier for him to want to take me on the team, anyway.” Damon shook his head. “You don’t have to sound so surprised. It was the right thing to do. And I felt guilty using his stuff when I knew he was only letting me to get in my pants.”

  If only Damon weren’t such a damned decent man. Cathal’d always known this, but he hadn’t cared until recently. He hated caring about things. They just got taken away sooner or later.

  He bit back the urge to sigh. “Well, I suppose it worked out for you, then. So are you going to do it?”

  “I told you, I haven’t decided yet. It’s a big commitment—it’d be like going back to work, only I wouldn’t get paid for it. Unless we won the competition, maybe, but most of that money goes to taxes and the rest of it would go to the bakery. But maybe I need a big commitment again.” Damon said that last almost to himself.

  Cathal looked him over, but as usual, he had no idea what was going on underneath that buzz cut. “Am I missing something?”

  Damon avoided his eyes, looking out over the play as his son kissed Alex’s donkey mask. “I dunno. But…” He sighed. “I’ve been trying to make something of myself, but it doesn’t really matter. I could go on like this for as long as I wanted—everything’s taken care of financially. Except I don’t know if I want to. I’m already not worth much. I don’t want to make that worse.”

  “The worst part of these conversations,” Cathal said, carefully, because he wasn’t used to keeping away from landmines instead of gleefully stepping on them, “is I can tell that you’re serious. Why are you always saying such bad things about yourself?”

  Damon looked at him, surprise
d. “Because it’s true, and I don’t know how to make it not true.”

  “It’s already not true,” said Cathal, but Damon just looked at him, and Cathal didn’t know what to say to back up his point that didn’t involve kissing more ridiculous than Titania’s. But then it was time to switch the lighting again, and the moment was gone.

  THEY WENT HOME without Felix again, since he was at Gareth’s cast party. Damon was glad his son was getting out and socializing, but he wished he was around, because Felix always made for a good distraction.

  But since that wasn’t an option, Damon decided to go to bed. If he stayed up and tried to watch TV or work on something, he’d end up frustrated and even angrier with himself. This way, he’d spend a few hours staring at the ceiling and then eventually fall asleep. And he’d feel better once he slept. Or at least he hoped so.

  He’d shrugged out of his shirt and sat on the bed when someone knocked on his door. It could only be one person—not because Felix wasn’t there, but because Felix wouldn’t have bothered knocking. Damon glared at the floor, but he couldn’t even muster up the energy to be angry. If he stayed in his room and ignored the knock, then he’d be the asshole.

  He pushed himself up and opened the door. Only when he saw the blank look on Cathal’s face did he realize he was still shirtless. Well. Whatever. Cathal had seen him shirtless before. Probably.

  “I made you popcorn,” said Cathal, his voice too quick. He held up a bowl as proof.

  “I see that,” said Damon, because he didn’t know how to say What the hell are you doing? Besides actually saying What the hell are you doing, which would have been too harsh. And Cathal was trying to help, exactly like he’d been trying to help all these past few months. It wasn’t his fault Damon didn’t know how to feel about that. Or how to say it only made him feel shittier.

  “It has cheese on it.”

  “Okay…” said Damon, waiting for the weirdness that accompanied Cathal saying anything. But Cathal just looked at him, apparently as much at a loss for words as Damon was.

  Damon sighed and took a handful of the popcorn, though the idea of eating any turned his stomach. “Is there a reason you’re here? I know you like cheese popcorn and all, but I was going to go to bed.”

  Cathal’s mouth twisted to the side, and he dropped his eyes. “Well. I felt—that we should discuss. What we were discussing earlier, I mean. And it seems to be easier to start those kinds of conversations with an excuse, so I tried food, because that’s working for you. And popcorn is the only food I can make without burning down the house.”

  Damon smiled, despite himself. Damon never would have thought Cathal could look so sheepish. What he thought he had to be sheepish about, Damon didn’t know, but…maybe he’d find out.

  He wanted to talk to Cathal about his feelings. Now there was a weird thought.

  Damon shoved it aside because he didn’t know what it meant. “You could have come and talked to me without all this, you know.”

  Cathal shrugged, his face neutral.

  Damon rubbed his forehead. “Yeah, I’ll come down. Let me put on a shirt.”

  Cathal nodded once, still looking dazed. “Don’t take forever, or I’m eating all of this. I really like cheese popcorn.”

  “I know. That’s why it’s the only thing you can cook.” Cathal opened his mouth, but Damon shut the door, even though he was curious to hear what Cathal would have said in response.

  And that was weird too. Damon tried to think, but he was terrible at sitting and thinking. And anyway, what was the point? Cathal wouldn’t let him alone until he finished figuring himself out anyway.

  Wasn’t that supposed to annoy him?

  Damon realized how long he’d been standing there staring blankly at the floor. He shrugged on his shirt without bothering to button it. Then he went downstairs and stood in the doorway. Cathal glanced at him and away, then stuffed a handful of popcorn in his mouth. If Damon hadn’t known better, he’d have thought Cathal was blushing. But Damon did know better, so he fixed his collar and went to sit on the opposite end of the couch, as always.

  “So what are we talking about?” Damon asked, crossing his arms. He sounded upset, but maybe that was a good thing. It would keep Cathal from pressing him too hard. Maybe. Probably not.

  Cathal turned sideways and pulled his knees up to his chest, eyeing Damon like a stack of papers he needed to grade. “So what’s all this nonsense about you not being worth anything?”

  Damon tried copying Cathal’s tone of voice. “We’ve had this conversation before.”

  Cathal just stared at him without blinking. He could make his eyes so cold and distant when he wanted.

  The words spilled out of Damon like bile. “Look at me. I’ve fallen apart without Era. I’m trying to get things back, but I don’t even know what things are. I’ve never done anything worthwhile. I’m…” He had to look away, biting down on his lip to keep from saying anything more.

  “If you say worthless, I’m dumping the popcorn bowl on your head.” Cathal wasn’t joking either, but Damon kept his mouth shut. Cathal was good at finding his weak points, but that didn’t mean he had to roll over and expose them. “If you don’t say anything, I’m still dumping the popcorn on your head.”

  Damon tried to relax. This would help. “You’ll dump it on me no matter what I do.”

  “Do not impugn my honor that way.” He paused for effect. “That would be a waste of good popcorn. And also, we’d never get it all out of the couch.”

  Damon turned to look at Cathal fully. “All right, fine. You’re the one who never shuts up about evidence and hypotheses. Prove me wrong. Because I keep trying to find ways to be positive about this, and I keep coming up empty.” Damon couldn’t hide the desperation in his voice.

  “I’m sorry, I know this is serious, but I have to take a moment to be emotional about your use of the word hypotheses.” Cathal clutched his heart.

  Damon threw a piece of popcorn at him. “If you’re going to drag me down here, the least you can do is be serious for five fucking minutes.”

  To his surprise, it worked, and Cathal dropped the fake look of surprise. His eyes moved over Damon’s face, and Damon wanted to look away. Except he’d asked for it, and he was not about to admit he was a coward. Out loud.

  “Well, you’re discounting a lot. You’ve been to culinary school, and you worked your way up from the bottom at your old restaurant. And now you’ve picked up a new skill well enough to impress someone who does it for a living.” Cathal tapped his lips with a finger, tipping his head to the side like always when he was explaining something.

  It was…nice. To have someone put so much thought into Damon’s life. He hadn’t realized how much he missed that.

  Cathal held up his finger. “And beyond all that, you shouldn’t forget you’re a good dad. You’ve got a son who’s only moderately messed up. Most parents would kill for that.”

  Damon opened his mouth to defend his son and then paused. “I want to ask why you think Felix is messed up, but he does eat cereal without milk.” Damon met Cathal’s eyes for a second, but the force of Cathal’s regard was too much. Damon had to look away, and the words slipped out before he could stop them. “I never know whether you’re being honest or if you’re trying to shut me up.”

  Cathal made a soft noise of frustration and covered his face with his hands. Then he relaxed, digging his hands into his hair instead. “I’ve never lied to you. I’ve never put my feelings into words very well, but I’ve always told you the truth as I see it. I just—” He put his hands down, slowly. “I’ve realized lately that the truth is a lot more complicated than I ever thought.”

  Damon studied him. “You’ve insulted me a lot. But I’d probably say it myself, given the chance.”

  Cathal hesitated. Then words came spilling out of him, as fast and as hard as they had for Damon. But what did he have to hold back? “When I first met you, I was in a bad mood. I’d slept in and missed a test, so I ended
up with a C in that class. The only bad grade I got in college. So I wanted someone to be pissed at, and you were there. I could tell by looking at you that you swung both ways, and you’d end up dating some woman and never have to deal with the shit I’ve gotten my whole life. I’ve never been allowed to hide, and when I was young and even dumber, I liked to take it out on other people.”

  He let out a slow, heavy breath, looking at the couch instead of Damon as though he was talking to himself equally as much. “All of that was a cover. I was angry at myself, and I wanted to make someone else feel shitty to make up for it. And then when Era brought you to meet me, I remembered I’d acted like a fucking asshole the first time I saw you, which meant I had to keep acting like a fucking asshole for consistency’s sake.”

  He closed his eyes. “And…and the second I saw Era look at you, I knew that was it. You were the most important person in her life. She was going to leave me, and I’d have to learn to act like I was happy about it. Just like I had to act like I didn’t give a shit that my parents didn’t want me.”

  Damon stared at his hands. He’d built his life around the idea that Cathal hated him from the start, had seen through Damon to the hollow place at his core, where he was always trying to convince himself he mattered. Except…except that wasn’t true.

  Damon covered his face. He was shaking. “I guess I should accept that this is never going to make sense to me. You staying here, I mean. But that doesn’t mean it’s bad. It’s…” He parted his fingers, feeling strange all over. “It’s good.”

  “It is good,” Cathal said, his voice softer than Damon had ever heard.

  Damon took in a deep breath, trying to get himself under control. He still didn’t understand what was going on in his own head, but at least he didn’t feel like he needed to bury his face under his blankets and never come out again. “I guess if you keep saying it, then I have to believe you believe it, anyway. But I don’t know what to make of it. I’ve never felt more worthless in my life, and here you are, telling me I’m not instead of reminding me that I am.”