The Bones of You

by Laura Stone

  “Well, your dad has always known you were something special,” Oliver said. “And with good reason.” Seth looked down at his food, but Oliver caught the small smile on his face before it faded. “He didn’t do anything… wrong, did he?”

  Seth looked up at him in surprise. “No,” he said, drawing the word out a bit as though he was hiding something. “It’s more that he was so… vocal. I felt—” Seth sighed and looked off to the side at the other patrons. “Let’s just say, the rest of the cast found it hilarious.”

  “Oh.” Oliver wiped the corner of his mouth and laid his napkin across his lap. “Is it because your dad is just, well, proud of you? Yeah, he can get a little… exuberant about things, but that’s one of his charms.” Oliver flashed Seth a grin. “Or do you think it’s because they don’t have supportive parents? Or maybe they think that someone who looks like your dad couldn’t possibly appreciate the arts?”

  Seth stopped fiddling with the base of his water glass. Oliver caught a flash of something in his eyes at the question, defiance, maybe? Straightening his posture, Seth said, “I think it’s the latter, honestly. I just didn’t—I don’t like being a target of ridicule, that’s all.”

  Oliver was shocked; he couldn’t believe anyone would mock the Larsens. “Are you serious?” he asked. “What the—who? Who made fun of your dad?”

  “Oliver. It’s okay.” Seth sighed, shaking himself a little before slipping back into his ever-composed self. Oliver watched, trying to take his cues from how upset Seth was, but not until Seth smiled at him, slow and sweet, did Oliver’s temper cool. Maybe Oliver was just overreacting? Seth seemed to appreciate his defense of Mike, though.

  “There are just some people in the cast who like giving off a very worldly air,” Seth continued, rolling his eyes. “Honestly, they’re not worth the energy it takes to be angry. There are times when I have to remind myself of that, that’s all.”

  Oliver sat back in his seat, worrying the napkin in his lap as he watched Seth pick at his food, his smile benign and pasted-on, now, after the grateful smile he’d given Oliver just a moment before. Something was wrong, and it frustrated Oliver that Seth was frustrated. Something was different; old-Seth would have gotten into people’s faces about this. New-Seth sighed and brushed it off. Who would cause him not to defend himself and his dad? It made Oliver want to defend them; even after all of these years, he still carried a feeling of family for the Larsens.

  Oliver laid his fork across the outer edge of his plate and rested his weight on his forearms at the edge of the table, thinking for a moment. “Was it… wait, was it Dough-Face? I mean, Brandt?”

  Seth laughed loudly and clapped a hand over his mouth. “You did not just call him that!” Well, at least Oliver had succeeded in getting Seth in a better frame of mind, if his amusement was any indication.

  “Was it? It was, wasn’t it?” Oliver couldn’t help but feel a grim sort of satisfaction. He knew there was something creepy about that guy.

  “He’s one of the producer’s brothers,” Seth said, giving him a level gaze. “He’s an ass, but he’s an ass with important friends, something that he likes to remind everyone of. And ultimately, he’s harmless. They’re just words meant to get under my skin; I’ve dealt with far worse. It was just bad timing when I was nervous at the start, that’s all.”

  Oliver matched his look and tried to find any tell on Seth’s face; there had to be more to this than someone just suggesting Mike Larsen was small-town, or whatever rude thing Brandt had said. Seth dropped his gaze, shifted in his seat, played with his food, straightened the salt and pepper shakers and played with his food a little more. Seth was worried about something. He wasn’t looking at Oliver anymore. As though he was hiding something, or embarrassed about something? Or… someone?

  Oh.

  Oliver took a deep breath and asked quietly, “What else is he, Seth? Brandt.”

  Seth didn’t say anything for a moment; Oliver noticed his cheeks getting red. Finally, Seth looked away, straightening his silverware to make it just so. “An ex. Sort of,” he trailed off with a dismissive wave of his hand.

  Oliver felt sick to his stomach. It had been awful to watch Brandt drape himself all over Seth the night before, hinting at something, but to hear Seth say it… Oliver’s heart rate picked up, remembering Seth saying that Brandt wasn’t anyone special. Maybe things had changed during the day and they were growing serious? Okay, even he recognized that was a bit ridiculous. And he reminded himself that Seth had seemed so bothered when Oliver asked him if they were dating. But… was that because it was Oliver asking and Seth had been caught off guard and felt uncomfortable?

  “We didn’t really date. That’s what I meant by ‘sort of.’ We—” Seth cleared his throat and took a moment to drink some water. “We fooled around a few months back. And now that I’ve made this incredibly awkward, how do you feel about dessert?” He directed a comically awkward smile at Oliver and ducked his red face behind the dessert menu.

  Oliver certainly didn’t like thinking of that simpering dolt with his hands on Seth, but he could hardly get angry about it having happened. Well, he could get angry that it happened, he just shouldn’t be angry. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He could do this; he could be a good friend. Supportive.

  Oliver said, “He has the handshake of a dead fish. I can’t imagine what he must kiss like.”

  Some of the tension in Seth’s shoulders dropped as he laughed again. “There’s a very good reason why I’m not seeing him, Oliver.”

  They smiled in tandem as the waiter came to clear their plates, each saying “Thank you” quietly. From the corner of his eye, Oliver caught Seth smirking. He chuckled a little. “It’s nice to see we’re still in sync on some things.”

  Seth’s smile faltered briefly before he put it back in place as the waiter asked if they’d like coffee. Oliver opened his mouth to say yes, but Seth spoke first. “Nonfat cappuccino and a brewed cup, black with two sugars, for my friend here.”

  The little wink Seth gave him sent a wave of heat through his body and pushed out the cold, negative thoughts of Brandt. It was both thrilling and comforting to be reminded of these little connections they’d had and that were still there. Oliver wanted to find out what else they still had together.

  “Yep, still in sync on some things,” Seth said, leaning back in his seat and crossing his legs primly.

  * * *

  They stood out front under the awning, wrapped up against the cold. It had started to snow heavily, fat, fluffy flakes that quickly coated everything in clean white.

  “First snowfall of the year,” Seth said, smiling at Oliver. “I always love how everything looks so new when it’s covered, initially. You know, before it turns crunchy and gray and filled with trapped cigarette butts.”

  Oliver felt heavy and light at the same time. Light, because he and Seth had spent a great evening together, and the connection was still there. They were still meant to be friends. Heavy, because he didn’t want the night to end and didn’t want to presume that they would make this a habit while he was in town. He steeled himself and brushed some of the snowflakes from Seth’s shoulder, still needing to keep some connection sparking between them.

  Oliver watched his hand as it moved over the dark wool of Seth’s coat. “It’s too early for us to start thinking about it going wrong. We should be glad it’s so nice now.”

  Seth sighed. “You’re right.” He reached out and brushed at the lapel on Oliver’s coat, patting it smooth before putting his hands back into his pockets and hugging himself tight for warmth.

  “Seth, I…” Oliver wanted to reach out again so badly, to just hold him and make what they’d had come back. But that wasn’t how things worked; he knew that much. Well, he could reach out in other ways. “I’ll be in town through the weekend, until Tuesday, if you think you might like to do something? No pressure, though. I know you didn’t even know I was coming.”

  Seth twisted his tor
so in a little back and forth motion as he looked at the snow falling on the street. “I have plans this weekend that I can’t change,” Seth said, his voice quiet.

  Telling himself to not get his hopes up was one thing, but the crushing blow of reality hurt far worse. Oliver tried to not let his features reveal how upset he was.

  “So,” Seth said, looking up at Oliver from under his lashes. “What if you come to the show on Sunday and we spend the rest of the day together?” He added quickly, “The show is over by four? And Monday is lights out, so it’s not a work night.”

  “Yes! Sure, I’d love to see the show again.” Oliver’s heavy feelings blew away with the force of his excitement: He wasn’t being shot down. “And leave the plans to me, is that all right?”

  “Okay, then!” Seth straightened his posture and grinned. Oliver would have sworn that Seth looked a little… shy. As if he hadn’t been sure of Oliver’s answer and was surprised but also a touch bashful at the prospect of them spending the day—and possibly the whole evening, Oliver’s mind happily offered—together. Oliver’s excitement grew exponentially.

  “I’ll have your ticket at will call, and…” Seth bent a little at the waist and traced a line in the snow with the edge of his shoe. “I’ll see you then?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Seth jerked his head back. “I’m just going to take the train from here, if that’s that okay? It’s just that I’m only three stops from my apartment.” Seth bit his lip nervously. “You don’t mind finding your way back to the hotel, do you?”

  “Oh! Oh, of course I don’t mind. I’ll just grab a cab, that won’t be a problem. So…”

  “So… goodnight?” Seth bit his lip and looked up through his lashes at him again. It sent Oliver’s heart into palpitations to see that familiar look of excitement and nervousness on Seth’s face; it had had the same effect on him when they were younger, too.

  “Right,” Oliver said, a little breathlessly. “Um, goodnight.”

  Seth seemed to debate something internally before he opened his arms and wrapped Oliver in a tight hug into which Oliver all but melted. Seth gave him a squeeze and let him go—far too soon, as far as Oliver was concerned. He was just getting the scent of Seth’s cologne and marveling at how soft his cheek was when Seth pulled back.

  Blushing, Seth waved goodbye as he walked away, backwards. “See you Sunday?”

  “Yes, you will.” Oliver was rooted to the spot. The spot where Seth hugged him. The spot where they became friends again. When he saw Seth’s bright scarf disappear down the subway entrance he turned to look at the front of the restaurant and said its name out loud. “Blue Ribbon.”

  Oliver’s first spot in New York with Seth. Somewhere they could wrap their arms around each other and no one would care.

  On the drive back to the hotel he smiled and pressed his cheek against the cool glass of the cab window. He hoped that he would get the opportunity to have other firsts with Seth.

  Chapter Seven

  Oliver spent the weekend with Gus and Emily, wandering from museum to great restaurant to museum. In between some holiday shopping they ended up seeing the Kandinsky exhibit at the Guggenheim—surprisingly, at Gus’s request. For all he was buttoned up and by the book, Gus was evidently a huge fan of what Oliver saw as nothing but chaotic shapes and colors.

  “But look: Everything is precisely placed, Oliver. There’s a reason for where everything is. The point of his work is to learn why it’s there. How it affects what’s around it. ”

  Oliver saw just a series of rectangles and lines. That is, until one painting that made him stop in his tracks: On White. He stared at it for several minutes, wondering why it looked both familiar and new. And then it hit him suddenly: It was… music. Or, it was like a physical representation of how he felt about music: that wonderful sense of creation building up inside of him until it just had to burst out, either through playing the piano or singing. Looking at the painting was like seeing the emotion that he didn’t have a name for, the joy and noise and love for how it felt to share with others that precious thing that was inside of him. Or used to be.

  He sat in front of the painting on a hard wooden bench for almost half an hour as Gus and Emily pushed on to look at the rest of the exhibit. Oliver ached. He felt both homesick and happy, and remembered moments of pure joy, the kind he only got from playing. When was the last time he’d played the piano? Sang out loud? Singing along under his breath in the shower or on a train didn’t count. When was the last time he performed anything? He realized with a start that it had been since he’d graduated Bakerfield and moved away from the piano at his parent’s house.

  That long? That’s not…

  He moved through the rest of the exhibit, not really seeing it. It had been that long. He flashed on Seth in his show, how strong and beautiful his voice had become. How he was Seth fully realized, finally the person he’d set out to become.

  While Oliver certainly didn’t regret his course of study—he very much believed in what he and his colleagues were researching—he did feel regret at losing something that had once been so important to him, at ignoring something once so important. Part of him even felt a little shame at the thought of Seth discovering how much of himself Oliver had left behind in Kansas. He laughed that off; what, he was already imagining scenarios of closeness between the two of them? He wasn’t even sure that Seth wanted his friendship.

  Well, I can hope, he thought as he left the curved walkway and walked into the central rotunda on the ground floor of the museum. Emily and Gus were talking with one of the docents near the small gift shop toward the entrance; he shook himself to come back to the present and joined them. Unable to get the image of that painting out of his head, unable to shake a lonely feeling that had begun to creep out of a place inside him that had been closed off for a very long time, he bought a postcard of the painting.

  Oliver left Emily and Gus to their own devices on Sunday after brunch and made sure that he had plenty of time to run a small errand before heading to the theater. He wanted to make a gesture toward Seth, one that expressed his gratitude for the tickets, the dinner and the conversation and would show that he would like this to turn into genuine friendship again. He’d agonized over the idea all night and throughout brunch. (Gus had called him out on his distraction by pointing out that he’d poured syrup into his coffee mug.)

  It was important that Seth knew how proud Oliver was of him, and how much his friendship would mean. He didn’t want to freak Seth out, though, and he definitely didn’t want to pressure him into anything. Seth was just… someone special. Oliver’s life could be nothing but better with him in it, and he wanted Seth to know that. He’d thought of the perfect gift, something he hoped would serve as a reminder of how close and supportive of each other they’d been.

  He checked the business card in his pocket for the address the concierge had given him and whistled softly to himself as he walked through Hell’s Kitchen toward his first destination on this bright and sunny and very cold day, feeling confident by virtue of having a plan. The hotel’s concierge had gone on and on about the owner of this particular shop and how thoughtful he was at finding just the right match for the occasion.

  Oliver chatted with the owner after placing his initial order, letting him know he had to make it to the theater for the two p.m. show. Richard, the owner, had also seen Seth’s play and been impressed by his performance. He excused himself to find something in the back, leaving Oliver to wander freely and trail his hands lightly over the store’s goods.

  Richard came back, tied the gift with a simple silk ribbon and handed it to him with a wink. Oliver looked it over and noted that it wasn’t exactly as he’d ordered.

  “Trust me,” Richard said. “It’s kind of what I’m known for. I have outstanding intuition. Also, the meaning behind it is on the card; make sure you sign it!”

  “Oh, right.” Oliver borrowed Richard’s pen. After a moment’s deliberation, a huge smile
spread across his face as he wrote:

  To Seth:

  These are to celebrate you and everything you’ve become. I’m so proud of you.

  ~Oliver

  He turned the card over and read the meaning of the various items, starting at the addition Richard had made. He looked up to find Richard smiling.

  “It’s a gift I have. Enjoy!”

  Still smiling from ear to ear, Oliver left the shop with a friendly wave and practically floated to the theater a few blocks down. He got a few looks from people but couldn’t have cared less; he held the gift proudly as he approached will call. The distracted girl behind the glass found his name and pulled out his ticket; as she handed it over, she finally noticed what Oliver was carrying and squealed. He made a shushing gesture and laughed.

  “Don’t ruin the surprise!”

  She shook her head quickly, no. “Oh, he’s going to love that. Hell, I’d love that!”

  He ducked his head, chuckling, and made his way into the theater to his prime seat on the third row, orchestra aisle. He sat down, beginning to feel nervous. Maybe it was too much? Maybe it would send the wrong message? He shook his head; it wouldn’t do any good to second-guess himself now. He set the present carefully across his knees and opened his playbill. He read Seth’s bio through to the end once more as he waited for the show to begin, his heart racing as he read again: “to his first duet partner.”

  Whether Seth had meant him or not didn’t matter; it bolstered his confidence. They’d always supported each other. That’s what this gift was—a show of support with a nod to their former relationship. Seth should have all the support he could get.

  Who made him believe he could finally get here.

  For now he was happy to sit in the darkening theater as the orchestra cued up and let himself hope, just a bit.

  * * *

  Oliver stood at the end of the sectioned-off area outside the stage door, bundled warmly in his coat and scarf and holding both hands behind his back. He didn’t want to be in the way of the other actors and fans gathered outside (a much smaller crowd, since it was Sunday afternoon and near the freezing mark).