“Wanna throw something?” Julian asked from behind him. He walked up next to Paulo and showed him the three small ornaments he was holding in his hand. Round glass balls—nothing special, except they were covered in crystals. “When I get bored, I come out here, have a smoke, and chuck ornaments into the pond. I know you don’t smoke, so shall we throw something?”
Paulo looked over the railing. Even the fountain in the center of the pond was looking festive. Lights shone on it in a swirling mix of red, green, and gold.
“There must be fifty ornaments down there,” Julian continued proudly. “Mother just keeps replacing them.”
“Yep, give ’em here.”
Julian handed over the ornaments and patted in his coat pocket for his pack of cigarettes.
“I don’t know why I’m mad,” Paulo said, pulling back and pitching the ornament as far and hard as he could. It overshot the pond and ended up on the other side. No doubt a riding lawn mower would make short work of it. “Except every fucking reason. Worst thing is, he thinks I stood him up. I’m sure of it.”
He tossed again, squinting against the alcohol’s effects. This time the ornament hit the statue of Neptune rising up out of the center of the fountain. It shattered, making a tinkling sound as the shards fell into the water.
“Almost,” Julian congratulated. “And I don’t know about that. There’s something I forgot to tell you about last night. Something that occurred to me after your mother waylaid you.”
One more pitch—he had to make it a good one. He calculated his throw, tested the weight of the ornament, and then shot it up into the air in a high arc. He and Julian watched it sail. It hit the water with a delightful plop, bobbing on the surface. Julian lit his cigarette.
“What’d you figure out?” Paulo asked. He’d have to go back inside soon; he was being rude. (Never mind the host of the party was defacing the tree and then hiding on the balcony for a smoke.) That meant more conversation with Dr. Daniels, he supposed. He wasn’t unattractive…for a man in his seventies. But Paulo hadn’t come to chat up rich, old gay men or to get bathroom hand jobs. He’d come for Ari. “What about Harrison, Julian?”
“I can’t imagine that he thinks you stood him up. Pru came up to me last night when she was leaving and I told her exactly what I told you about the guest list. She knew last night why you weren’t there.”
Chapter Five:
Pukeapalooza
Harrison heard talking, and was vaguely aware that the voices were ones he knew even, but he couldn’t follow the conversation because they’d randomly stop speaking for a minute or two and pick up again somewhere in the middle of a sentence. What a weird way to talk.
“—way too much to drink, Lil’. I should have stopped him, but… And I was gonna drop him off at home—”
“—watch over him. Don’t worry. Jill makes a hell of a hangover cure. Where are you off to?”
Where was she off to? He didn’t get to hear, because suddenly there were new actors in the play, and the room was spinning, and everything was so bright. Was he walking? He thought he might be walking, but there were people carrying him.
Or was he flying?
“Whee,” he whispered and then snorted on a laugh.
“Jesus, you smell like alcohol.” That was the new actor. Female. Maybe one of a twin.
“Jill,” he said. “Jill. Jill. Jill? Hey, Jill.”
“I’m right here, Harrison, and I hear you. What?”
“Remember that time you were taking a bath in the cabin and you farted, and we could hear it all through the cabin, and Grandpa was like stop draggin’ them bendercocks around the bathtub?” His snort turned to giggles.
“What?” the other voice asked.
“Cinderblocks.”
“Oh.”
“Harrison, would you stop picking your damn feet up off the ground! We’re not carrying you.”
But he was flying. Didn’t they understand anything about aerodynamics?
Whoa. Mattress. How did he get here? He must have teleported. Awesome. That made sense, it was an evolutionary factlet that flying begets teleportation. That’s why penguins can’t teleport.
“Jill?”
“It’s Lily. Jill’s getting you a puke bucket in case you need to throw up again.”
Again?
Must be part of the teleportation process.
“Where am I, Jilly?”
“At our house, honey.”
Pennsylvania—the suburbs—no more Midday with all its awful Paulolessness.
“He didn’t show up, LilyjillyLil.”
“Pru told us. I’m sorry, Harrison.”
“It’s OK,” Harrison promised. “I don’t need Paulo or Paulo’s handsome face or his chiseled abs or his rock-hard ass. I teleport and fly and puke now. I’ll be all right.”
<<< >>>
To say Harrison had a hangover was to say the pounding rains of a hurricane were only a light summer drizzle. Harrison’s migraine seemed to have had a one-night stand with an aneurysm and was now pregnant with a little bastard of a lobotomy gone wrong. He was certain someone had performed brain surgery on him during the night. They must have cracked his skull in five places, scrambled up his brains, and pieced the whole thing back together with duct tape. It hurt so much he couldn’t even open his eyes to see where he was. And thinking hurt, so he tried not to do that.
Except…
For a moment, Harrison was hopeful.
He knew he wasn’t in his bed because the springs were all broken in the middle of his mattress, so when he got in bed, he rolled to the middle. It also didn’t feel like Pru’s hard guest bed in Midday. Had he and Paulo…? With heavy arms he felt between his legs for any sign that he’d been intimate last night. But he was still wearing jeans. Could they have got it on through his jeans?
Tiny details came back to him, and disappointment pelted him.
Paulo never showed up…
He and Pru had flown back to Pennsylvania the morning after the party…
They went midafternoon barhopping…
Something about teleportation?
God, what time was it? Ugh, even the LED of the clock was too bright. 3:45 a.m.
It was already tomorrow, and he had a broken heart and a helluva hangover.
Harrison snoozed off and on until he couldn’t handle the pressure in his bladder, and he finally opened his eyes. Oh, yeah, Harrison knew this room. He was in Jill and Lily’s house.
He stumbled to the bathroom, each step making his head blaze agonizingly. He met his sister coming up the hall—or rather, a blurry version of her. He moaned low like a zombie and he thought she rolled her eyes.
“I’m getting you water, a cold rag, some pills, and hangover cure. You can sleep until lunch if you want, but then Lil’ and I wanna talk with you.”
He groaned again and shouldered his way into the bathroom.
<<< >>>
Jill woke him around noon with a light tap on the door. His head wasn’t great, and he’d slept so long his muscles were heavy and sore, but he was definitely better than he’d been a few hours before.
“I’m not serving you in bed,” Jill informed him as she walked into the room.
“I’m surprised you’re feeding me at all, sis,” he groaned, fighting with the covers. It was hell getting into a sitting position.
Jill was dressed down in yoga pants and a tee, with her daughter, Bella, balanced on her hip.
“Where’re my glasses?” he asked, scanning the side table.
“You mean those fake glasses I told you make you look ridiculous?”
“Those would be the ones.”
“They were all smudged up. Lily cleaned them for you. They’re in the kitchen.”
A very real part of him wanted to jump up, shove past his sister, and collect them right then, but he had a feeling Jill already knew they weren’t really for fashion, and he didn’t feel like confirming her fears.
“Feeling better?”
“Some.” He nod
ded. “Not great, but hungry.”
“You sure you’re going to keep it down?” she asked. “It was sort of Pukeapalooza last night. I had to shampoo the carpet. Twice.”
Harrison grimaced. “OK, I deserve whatever punishment is coming to me, but let me remind you, if it involves blood, you’ll only have to clean the carpet again.”
“Well, you deserve that and worse. What the heck were you thinking, Harry? Getting completely S-H-I-T faced? That’s not like you at all.”
“I’ve been drunk before,” he reminded her, putting his feet on the floor.
“Yes, but this time you were Paulo drunk. And you promised me, Harry, when you guys broke up or separated or whatever you did, you promised.” He didn’t want to, but Harrison made himself look at his sister, made himself confront the pain on her face. “You said you wouldn’t do anything stupid because of him.”
“I tried. I really…F-U-C-K-I-N-G tried.”
“I know.”
“He was supposed to be at the party. I mean, we were going to talk. Maybe, possibly, try and start fresh.”
Bella gabbled and “spoke” to her mother without saying anything comprehensible.
“Come get some lunch,” Jill said after a long moment. “Lily and I want to talk to you about something.”
Knowing it meant a lecture, Harrison dragged his feet getting to the kitchen. He really didn’t want to hear about how he should be taking better care of himself, or how it was time to move on from Paulo. He didn’t think he could stomach a maybe this is a good thing.
Lily glanced up when he walked through the doorway. “Coffee, Harry?”
“Yes,” Harrison accepted. “Double strength. Hell, if you have beans, I can just chew them.”
“One for me, too.” Jill said, putting Bella in her high chair. She had a floppy rabbit over her shoulder, but didn’t seem to notice. Both women looked tired. “Minus the bean-chewing.”
“Jill said I had to come down to get lectured.”
“Are we lecturing him?” Lily asked her wife mildly.
Jill laughed. “I said we needed to talk to him. Y’know, about the thing.”
“That doesn’t sound suspicious,” Harrison said.
“Nothing suspicious. Now, we’re having chicken breast and steamed veggies, sound OK?” Jill asked, sprinkling some Cheerios on Bella’s tray.
“Sounds delicious.”
“Good, ’cause I wasn’t changing the menu.”
He laughed and secretly warmed when Jill walked over to him and wrapped him in a big, loving bear hug. He put his arms around her, and they just held each other for a while. As sassy and bossy as she could be, there was nothing in the world like getting a hug from his sister.
She whispered, “No lecture, Harry. I promise. I just want to say, I’m sorry he stood you up. You deserve better.”
Releasing him, she kissed his cheek and pushed him lightly toward the table. “So we’re not going to talk about Paulo.”
“We aren’t?” Lily asked.
“Nope. ’Cause we’re going to talk about the thing instead.”
“What is this thing you keep hinting very obviously at?” Harrison asked.
He was grateful, in a way, for that statement: we’re not going to talk about Paulo. Now if only it would translate to his brain. We’re not going to think about Paulo.
Lily pushed a mug into Harrison’s hand, and he closed his eyes, taking a slow sip off the coffee. If anything would take away the pounding headache, it would be the brew. When he opened his eyes again, he caught the two women looking at each other.
“So, our friend Chan called yesterday. She works for an airline, and I’m pretty sure she could get fired for telling us… But tonight there’s going to be a fifteen-minute flash sale on holiday flights. She gave us the exact time and a bonus savings code.”
“Where did you want to go?” he asked, confused.
“Well, that’s the thing, really,” Jill said. “We’d been talking to Aidan and Patrick because, you know, they’re going to Ireland for Christmas to visit Seamus and Chancey, and we’d been thinking of joining them.”
“Uh huh.”
“But Jill’s got to work Christmas instead,” Lily said.
“And you want me to cover you?” he asked.
“No. That’s not what we had in mind.” Jill laced and unlaced her fingers. “I mean, not that you could cover even if I wanted you to… This new job isn’t like the one I had at The Grand Heights and… I’m rambling.”
“OK.” Harrison eyed his sister suspiciously, but she was giving him nothing. “Then what?”
“We’d like to pay for your trip.”
He’d just raised the cup to his mouth and accidentally took a mouthful of coffee. It was way too hot to drink like that. He winced and forced down a gulp. “My trip?”
“You know it was always my dream to give Mom a vacation,” Jill said, matter-of-factly. “Well, I’m finally in a place financially to make that happen and she’s…gone. But you’re not, Harry.”
“Guys, that’s a really nice thought. But it’s expensive. Way too expensive!”
Jill wiped her dry hands on her jeans. It was a thing she did when she was nervous or preparing for a fight—always had, even as a little girl. “It’s a bit pricy, but with the red-eye flight and all of it…”
“And things not working out with him,” Lily mentioned unhelpfully.
“It’s OK to say his name, Lily.”
“We agreed not to, didn’t we?”
“It’s fine to say his name.”
“Jackass Jones?” Jill quipped. “Sorry.”
Jill hadn’t exactly been supportive of their separation. Instead, she’d thought it was just a half measure and that they should have made up or broken up for good, eighteen months ago. He didn’t doubt she hurt for him about being stood up at the Bentleys’ party, but then again, how long had she been dropping hints. Got tickets to the game this weekend, is there anyone you’d like to invite?
Yes, sister, I get it. You think I should move on. Date other people. Paulo surely is… But Harrison hadn’t asked Paulo to leave because he wanted someone else. He wanted Paulo. He wanted to be good enough for Paulo. He just wanted them to heal.
“Well, anyway. What do you think? Wanna spend Christmas in the land of the leprechauns?”
“I don’t know, guys, I…” He thought for a second. He’d imagined he would be watching Bella open presents on Christmas morning, and if he were really lucky…maybe introducing Paulo to the tot. “Are you sure you can’t go? I could watch Bella for you.”
“Bella’s young to be away from her parents.”
“She’s already a year old. And it’s not like you’re dumping her with just anyone.”
“It’s her first Christmas—”
“Second,” Harrison argued.
“She should be with us.”
“We’d miss her too much,” Lily added, with a glance and a nod to Jill, the two of them doe-eyed. They turned their parentally blissed-out expressions on him. Jill tilted her head and blinked in a supposedly endearing way.
“Your friend, Michael, will be pleased to see you,” she tempted.
Michael McFerran was a kid who’d come to visit last year. He was enthusiastic about life and seeing America for the first time, and he was downright impossible not to like. They’d kept up their correspondence through Facebook after Michael returned to Ireland. It would be great to see Michael again, but would Michael be happy to see him?
Harrison hadn’t been much of a good friend lately. With his depression, missing Paulo, and dealing with the relapse, Harrison hadn’t exactly been online very often. The times he thought about checking up on Michael, he was usually busy, and the moment always passed him by.
Besides, there was that other thing.
Harrison hadn’t been sleeping very well the last time they chatted. He was having those nightmares where Ms. Ashmore was above him, taking a knife to his… Well, they weren’t pleasant drea
ms, suffice it to say. Michael had made a simple, passing comment about Harrison’s new profile picture. Something to the effect of: had Harrison ever considered contacts?
He spent a lot of his counseling sessions helping other people recognize their triggers and find ways healthy ways to cope with them. But when Michael essentially asked him if he’d consider taking off his glasses, Harrison had shut his laptop, walked inside his closet, closed the door, and sobbed until he fell asleep on his shoes.
He knew Michael hadn’t seen him.
No one had seen him.
He hadn’t told anyone about that particular panic attack, not even Jill or Pru.
But he was humiliated it had happened.
He espoused patience to his clients when they beat themselves over not being one hundred percent, but he had little patience for himself.
“Will you think about it, at least?” Jill begged. “Please, please, please? I really want to do this for you.”
Christmas in Ireland with his friends? There were worse ways to get over being stood up.
“We realize it’s short notice. But it’s an all-inclusive trip and a long overdue vacation to—”
“Yeah, OK. I get it,” Harrison cut in. “You want me to spend Christmas somewhere else.”
“Harry, that’s not—”
“I’m kidding, sis.” He smiled at her, and his smile was even mostly genuine.
“Look, if you really don’t want to go, then just say it, OK?”
Harrison raised an eyebrow, prompting an apologetic smile from Jill, but she wasn’t backing down. Plus, she had Lily on her side. He’d get no peace until he gave them the right answer.
“I’ll think about it,” he said, pausing just long enough for Jill to draw breath, before adding, “By which I mean, yes. I’d love to go to Ireland for Christmas. Thank you so much, sis!”
She swooped in for another hard hug without giving him time to lift his arms. He was pinned in her embrace.
“Yeah, yeah. Aren’t we going to eat lunch?”
Chapter Six:
Searching
“Is that seat taken?” Paulo asked the young woman with the blaring headphones. She was trying to ignore him so she wouldn’t have to share the row, but when he tapped her on the shoulder and she looked up, her whole expression changed.
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