Bowerbirds

by Ada Maria Soto

  He fought back the urge to simply lay his head on his desk and slip into sleep. He tapped the map function on his phone. It showed James at home, but it also hadn’t updated in twelve hours. So either James was home sick, or he’d turned off the GPS. Gabe had to admit he didn’t really like either idea. He held his thumb over James’ number: So easy to call again, but what would he say? Would James even pick up?

  He shoved the phone away and turned back to the proposal.

  “Okay, come out here and let me see you.”

  Dylan stepped into the living room and gave a spin, showing off the dark green graduation gown.

  “Put on the hat.”

  He grinned and settled the mortarboard onto his head, flipping the tassel to the side.

  “Well, Dad. What do you think?”

  James couldn’t speak. He felt a tremble in one hand and a lump in his throat. He quickly blinked to keep his eyes clear. “You look really good,” he managed to choke out. “God I’m proud of you.”

  “I’m not there yet.”

  “Still proud of you.” James shifted the tassel around.

  “How are you doing?” Dylan asked.

  “I’m fine.” James was lying of course, but the screaming in his head was not going to damage this day that they had worked so hard for.

  “Liar.”

  “I am fine.” He adjusted the way the robe sat on Dylan’s shoulders and was reminded of Gabe adjusting his tux. “This is your day. You worry about you.”

  Dylan pinched his lips before giving James a quick hug. “Let’s get going. I don’t want to be late for this.”

  Gabe was swallowing two Tylenol and wondering what time Dylan’s graduation might be and trying not to be depressed when Frank banged into the office.

  “The negotiations are going fine. They’re putting up a bit of a fuss about the properties in Yaroslavl, which we’re giving them a perfectly good price for, but I think it’s mainly an ego thing and—”

  “Why am I just now finding out that you broke up with James?”

  Gabe should have taken something stronger than Tylenol. Tequila maybe. Sales and marketing usually had alcohol. He could send down for some. “One, I don’t know. Two, it’s none of your business. Three, he walked out on me.”

  “What the hell did you do?”

  “Why does everyone keep assuming it’s my fault?” Gabe shouted. “He walked out on me. He decided that—” Gabe felt his throat pinch.

  “Yeah. I got the gist from Tam.” Frank leaned in close. “Gabe, my friend, why do you think I’ve been married three times?”

  “Do you want an honest answer?”

  Frank responded with a tight smile. “I’ve been married three times because I married the most perfect woman on earth when I was twenty-three and I let her walk away from me. We didn’t fight, we didn’t argue, she just didn’t want to be in my way so she walked off, and I didn’t go after her, I didn’t even try, I put it off, I told myself she’d come back, and it is the stupidest thing I have ever done. Now she’s married to a great guy, has a successful business, and has three beautiful kids that aren’t mine, and if I thought for one second I could have her back, I would walk away from all of this. I’d leave you, Nate, I’d burn TechPrim to the fucking ground if it meant having Claire back for even one day.”

  Gabe stared at Frank, unsure what to say. He remembered Claire. He had liked Claire—everyone had liked Claire—and when she walked out, Frank had spent a couple of days drunk and then got back to work. They’d had deadlines to meet. “I have to be in a meeting,” is what Gabe finally said.

  “You need to take a close look at your priorities, and don’t be a fucking moron.”

  The speeches had been given by the principal, the valedictorian, and some guy who’d graduated forty years before and had been dragged back to give some out-of-date life advice. James gripped his mother’s hand tighter than was probably comfortable, but he couldn’t help it. The graduates stood and filed forward as each name was called.

  “He’s going to be fine,” his mother whispered.

  “I know.” And he did, but that knowledge didn’t slow down his heart, which was racing in his chest. Technically it would be Dylan’s second time across a graduation stage. When James was graduating, Dylan had a summer cold and had been going through a clingy phase. He made a break for it during the valedictorian speech and rushed the stage. James’ classmates had simply scooped him up, passed him two rows back and plopped him into James’ lap. James ended up getting his diploma with Dylan on his hip, rubbing snot into the shoulder of his gown. At the time it had felt strangely appropriate and only the valedictorian, some Harvard-bound kiss ass, complained about having his speech upstaged.

  Catherine’s name was called, and Dylan jumped to his feet, applauding. Her hair was dyed the same green as her graduation gown.

  A half dozen students later, the vice principal got to the M names. “Dylan Maron.”

  James jumped to his feet, applauding for all he was worth and refusing to cry. Dylan took long, sure strides across the stage, took the diploma, shook the principal’s hand, and tossed a smile to the crowd. James kept applauding even as Dylan circled around back to his seat.

  Later, as the families milled around outside the school auditorium, James pulled Dylan into another hug. “I am so proud of you.”

  “It’s just high school, Dad.”

  “Turn around, you two,” James’ mom called out. “It’s time for pictures.”

  One of a dozen lawyers droned on as Gabe glanced down at his phone. He was sure they were talking about something that had already been settled, but it was as if no one wanted the responsibility of actually being the one to agree.

  He flicked open an image file sent from Dylan, despite the lump it dropped into his stomach.

  In the picture Dylan was in his graduation robes, his arm around James’ shoulder, and flanked by an older couple that he guessed must be James’ parents.

  Who’s missing from this picture? You need to think up something better to say because every day is another day he can convince himself he was right. You’re breaking his heart and I’m considering breaking your legs. You’re still invited tomorrow. Good luck with the Russians.

  Gabe looked up at the Russians and choked down the mix of anger and pain that settled into his throat.

  Paperwork covered nearly every inch of Gabe’s coffee table, but he was ignoring it. Instead he was staring at the picture Dylan had sent for the hundredth time when his intercom buzzed. It was such a rare occurrence, he jumped a little, and his heart began to race, because maybe it was James. Maybe James sent Dylan off to some graduation party, then drove down. He rushed to the panel by the elevator.

  “Hello?”

  “It’s Margaret. Let me up.”

  Gabe’s heart sank even as he wondered what Margaret was doing.

  “Come on up.”

  A minute later the elevator doors whooshed open nearly silently. Margaret stepped out with a couple of Tupperware containers and a bottle of wine. “I brought you dinner.”

  “Thanks. I was going to—”

  “Order takeout or something? God knows how you keep your figure.” She bustled into the kitchen and scrounged up some plates and a couple of wine glasses. “Where do you keep your corkscrew?”

  “The left drawer. I really shouldn’t be drinking—”

  “Yes, you should.”

  “I’ve got—”

  “Do you really believe you’re going to get your head around all that Russian law in the next twelve hours when you’ve had months to learn it?”

  “Are you going to let me finish a sentence?”

  “Not until you start saying things I want to hear.” She yanked the cork out of a bottle of red. She filled one glass to the brim and pushed it toward Gabe.

  “Red wine gives me hangovers.”

  “I know. Drink that anyway while I put dinner on the plate.”

  “You didn’t come over just to feed m
e, did you?”

  “Nope. Drink, eat, then talk.”

  Dinner was a thick beef stew with still-warm, soft french bread, eaten on Gabe’s couch.

  “How many guys have walked out on you?” Margaret asked once the bowls had been licked clean and the wine glasses refilled.

  Gabe only thought for a second before giving up trying to count. “I don’t know. Do you?”

  “Yes, in fact, I do. And when is the last time you actually chased after one?”

  “If someone leaves it’s for a reason.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question, and there is a difference between reasons and good reasons. And from what I’ve gathered, James gave you a crap reason because I can guarantee he’s terrified and doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

  “I’ve heard this speech already.”

  “Then why haven’t you gone after him?”

  “I’ve left some very pathetic messages explaining how I feel, and I’ve had….” Gabe waved his hand at the stack of documents sitting on his coffee table. “Which is what he wants me to be focusing on, I’d like to add.”

  “Then show him you can multitask.” Margaret took his hand. “I haven’t seen you happy in a long time. Not properly happy.” Gabe didn’t want to think about the last time someone really made him happy. “You built an empire on a long shot of a crazy idea of Frank and my husband’s. You kick yourself any time any competitor develops anything before TechPrim. But you aren’t willing to chase down someone who makes you happy.”

  “Last time—”

  “Don’t!” Margaret snapped. “Do not. Gregory was ages ago, and you need to stop letting his ghost fuck up your personal life. He was a bad person doing bad things to you and to your company but that is not an excuse to let James go. TechPrim is safe. You are safe. You are in a safe position to risk a little happiness in your life. You can’t keep using him as an excuse. You can’t keep using TechPrim as an excuse.”

  Gabe leaned back into his sofa and stared at the ceiling with its dark wood panels that he had spent weeks choosing. He tried to let his mind go blank because it was better than dwelling on mistakes past and present.

  Thinking back over the long, storied history of Margaret and Nate’s “courtship,” Gabe leaned forward. “Margaret, why did you force feed Nate a worm?”

  “Because he pulled my hair one day when it was raining, and he pulled too hard. I fell backward into a puddle, at which point I got very angry, jumped up, chased him, tackled him to the ground, and shoved an unlucky worm into his mouth that had crawled up onto the sidewalk.”

  “I always wondered. Never got around to asking. He still fell in love with you?”

  “After I fed him the worm, I got up and went to the boy who had bullied him into pulling my hair, and I punched him in the face. Knocked out one of his baby teeth.” Gabe laughed despite the tightness that seemed to have permanently moved into his chest. “I had some anger management issues as a small child.”

  “Obviously.” Gabe downed the last of his wine. “It was Dylan’s graduation today.”

  “James must be very proud.”

  “James is thirty-two. He’s younger than I am. He could be bringing pictures of grandbabies to his next high school reunion.”

  “So could you.”

  “That’s getting ahead of things.”

  “I know you, Gabe. Your brain runs a century in advance. Look me in the eye, and tell me you haven’t worked out a life with James right down to grandkids running around some house by the sea.”

  Gabe’s squeezed his eyes shut before he cried. “Get the fuck out of my brain.”

  “Only if you start using it.”

  14

  The words “Dylan’s Party” crawled closer to the top of Gabe’s rolling agenda. He stared at it as they were taking a break. No one seemed willing to take the responsibility of saying yes to a very good deal and Gabe couldn’t understand why. They were down to arguing minutiae and pointing out obscure clauses in Russian business law that may or may not even apply. If Gabe was honest with himself, he’d lost track of the details by ten that morning. When a break was called, he hadn’t even had the energy to trek back up to his office. Instead he flopped down in an unused cubicle.

  Tamyra had followed him, but whatever she had been saying had become little more than a white noise. His phone pinged at him reminding him of the party. He glanced outside. It was a beautiful, bright early June day. There were a few fluffy clouds, and the smog wasn’t too thick yet.

  “I don’t want to be here.”

  “What?”

  “What?” Gabe realized he must have said that thought out loud. He stared at Tamyra in her perfect suit, perfect shoes, and perfectly coordinated jewelry, while contemplating the words that had just slipped from his mouth.

  I don’t want to be here.

  “Tam, you know this deal, right?”

  “Yes.” Tamyra stretched out the word.

  “I mean, you know it better than I do. You wrote that damn proposal, you’ve got your head around the international law.”

  “Yeah.”

  “And I’ve got a small army of exceedingly well-paid international business lawyers sitting in that room, right?” Gabe’s heart began to speed up.

  “Last I checked.”

  “Good.” Out the window Gabe could see the trees swaying slightly in a soft breeze. He rose to his feet. His hands shook. “You’re fired.”

  Tamyra laughed.

  “No, I’m serious. You’re fired. You’re not my PA anymore.”

  “Are you feeling okay? Do you need me to call Dr. Gowda?” She pressed the back of her hand to his forehead then felt along the sides of his neck and behind his ears.

  He rolled whatever piece of paper was in his hand into a tube and tapped it to her shoulders. “I hereby dub you Vice President of International Acquisition. Your first order is to explain to the people in that room that I’ve had something come up. Then nail down that deal so I can spend tomorrow night getting drunk on vodka.”

  “You’re serious, aren’t you?” For the first time in their ten years together, Gabe saw a shadow of fear on Tamyra’s usually carefully composed face.

  “Yes, I am. And once you’ve got this deal done, hire two new PAs, one for me and one for yourself. Also write yourself up a contract and stick it on my desk. I’ll sign it and send it down to human resources.”

  “You’re really serious, I mean—”

  He giggled for no reason he could pinpoint, but it felt good. “Time to start loosening the death grip a little.”

  Tamyra took a very deep breath, and Gabe could see her count slowly to five before letting it out. “You’re picking one fucking hell of a time to do it.”

  “I have faith in you. Now I need to get out of here.”

  “Okay.” There was actually a slight squeak in her voice. “There’s something sitting under my desk that you’re going to need if you’re going where I think you’re going.”

  Gabe gave her a kiss on the cheek. “You are the best and always will be. Now go talk a bunch of Russians into taking my money.”

  The trees were filled with bright crepe paper streamers. James wondered if he had gone a bit overboard. It had been several years since he’d done a party where streamers or balloons were involved, but his mother had insisted.

  He supposed it was too late now. Catherine had already arrived, as well as Coach Frasier and a few of Dylan’s friends. They were gathering together around the barbecue his father was manning. In the distance he could hear the carousel music start again. It had been years since he’d heard the tune banged out by the antique mechanized band, but it existed in the background of many good memories.

  He shoved his hands in his pockets. He ran his fingers across the smooth lines of his phone.

  He wondered how Gabe’s negotiations were going. He couldn’t help picturing them happening down in some Cold War bunker, a map spread across the table as men in large fuzzy hats whispered to each other
. But it was probably in some light, airy TechPrim conference room. There was a breeze rustling the long eucalyptus trees. He remembered a walk on the beach he and Gabe had taken once and the way the sea breeze had blown Gabe’s curls in all directions.

  A bright blue balloon got loose from one of the tables and started bouncing across the rough grass. James chased after it before it popped or blew into the wild blackberry brambles, thick with still-green fruit. He managed to snatch it up off the ground before it hit the gravel path.

  He looked up. A tall blonde woman approached him. It took him a moment to recognize her. The last time he’d seen her, Dylan had been fifteen, and some therapist had told her she should try to reconnect with her son. She’d had long honey-blonde hair, the same shade as Dylan’s. Now it was cropped short but stylish.

  “Cindy.” He kept his voice as neutral as possible.

  “James.” She gave a slight nod. “And before you ask, Dylan invited me. So I figure we can be civil for a few hours. For his sake?”

  “I think I can manage.”

  “So.” She tilted her head back and stared into the pale blue sky. “He’s eighteen.”

  “Yes, he is.”

  “Doesn’t seem that long ago.”

  “I know.”

  Cindy shifted her eyes from the sky to the ground where she kicked a couple of eucalyptus nuts. “I’ve been thinking a lot over the last couple of months about everything that happened, and I want to say I’m sorry.”

  Those were the last words that James expected to come out of her mouth. Their relationship had been downright hostile for years. “There were two of us there. I might have been drunk, but I remember that much.”

  “No, not about that. I shouldn’t have listened to my parents. They… they told me you wouldn’t care. That you’d be relieved and just move on, and I knew…. They never thought for one moment that you’d put up a fight. Not like you did. But I knew that if anyone would have fought, it would have been you.”