Unnatural

by Michael Griffo

  When the anger subsided, he was filled with so much sadness, for himself, for Michael, and even for Ciaran, that all he wanted to do was cry, crumble to the floor and sob. But he didn’t have the will to do that, either. Edwige took with her all his strength and left him a little child filled with so many strong emotions, but without the ability to express them. She left him just the same way she was. Like mother, like son.

  chapter 15

  The only thing that got Ronan through the night was thinking about tomorrow. That he would spend the day with Michael and at the end of the day, they would have a shared memory. When he woke up, his mother’s instructions were not forgotten, but her hold over him had lifted slightly. And, luckily, by the time he got off the train with Michael, Ciaran, and Fritz and stood before the Apple Tree, the towering bronze sculpture that marked the official entrance to the town of Eden, other people’s statements occupied his mind.

  “I hope Eve was hot,” Fritz announced.

  “What?” the three other boys responded in unison.

  “She was a dumb bird, you know, eating the apple and all,” Fritz explained. When the three boys continued to stare at him with bemused expressions, he continued speaking in a louder tone. “Creating original sin? Plunging humanity into a world of darkness and conflict for all eternity? She was a right swab and you all know it. I’m just saying I hope she was hot so she could make up for it.”

  “You know, that’s a really insightful analysis,” Ciaran said.

  “I know,” Fritz agreed, not hearing the sarcasm. “I do pay attention in theology, even though Joubert can be a right bore most of the time.”

  “Well, the next time he prattles on about Genesis,” Ciaran said, “I think you should share your thoughts about Eve with the class.”

  “You think so?” Fritz asked.

  “Definitely,” Ciaran replied. “But it would be helpful if you brought in some visual aids or maybe a Power-Point presentation to show how you really envision Eve. Is she curvy? Does she have a nice arse? Big knockers!”

  Finally, Fritz figured out Ciaran was ragging on him. “All right, wrap it up, Eaves!” Ciaran had wrapped it up, but he couldn’t stop laughing and neither could Ronan and Michael. “And that’s enough out of you two!”

  “Don’t look at me,” Michael said. “I don’t know nothing about no knockers.” After this comment, the three boys laughed so hard they couldn’t walk. Even Fritz, forgetting how the laughter began, joined in. “You know something, Nebraska?” Fritz said. “Sometimes you’re not all that bad.”

  Ronan leaned into Michael and whispered so close to his ear that Michael shivered from the sensation of his hot breath. “I can’t wait to find out just how bad Nebraska can be.”

  As they continued into the town itself, Michael and Ronan fell back and walked behind Fritz and Ciaran. The temperature had already dipped a few degrees from the other day and it no longer felt like Indian summer; the sky was cloudless and a lovely shade of blue, but it was definitely autumn. A few leaves floated to the ground; occasionally a chilly wind wrapped around their faces, bringing with it the smell of a fireplace burning somewhere in the distance. It was a perfect day for an excursion, crisp, with just the right amount of sunshine.

  Michael pretended to be busy looking at the landscape but was actually working up the courage to ask Ronan to be his date to the Archangel Festival next week, so busy pretending that he didn’t feel Ronan’s fingers until they were entwined with his. He felt his heart beat faster once the realization set in that he was walking down the street in broad daylight holding another boy’s hand. It was something he wouldn’t dare dream of doing back in Weeping Water; he couldn’t believe he was doing it here in Eden. The simple act was so revolutionary to him that he couldn’t speak, he couldn’t even look at Ronan; he just stared straight ahead, all thoughts of the festival gone, and he barely had the strength to walk. Until they turned a corner and bumped into Penry, Imogene, and Phaedra. Then he quickly let go of Ronan’s hand. In the next instant he turned to face his boyfriend and whispered, “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” Ronan answered back. He wanted to tell Michael that he understood and that they had time for all of that, but he was drowned out by Penry. “Hey, mates! I thought it was just going to be me and the ladies.”

  “We had to take a later train,” Ciaran said. “Fritz changed three times.”

  “I thought you were late ’cause you forgot your bloody wallet,” Ronan said.

  “Well, yes,” Fritz replied. “I had it in the first pair of pants I put on, but they were a bit wrinkled.”

  That was odd, Michael thought, Fritz not making a rude comeback.

  “I think you made an excellent choice,” Phaedra noted. “They look great with your sweater.”

  Fritz beamed. “Thank you.”

  Thank you? Everyone’s head snapped to look at the uncharacteristically polite Fritz. “It was a birthday present from my mum. I told her I thought I needed some more classic pieces for my wardrobe.”

  “Well, it’s not every guy who can wear yellow and make it work,” Phaedra said. “Kudos to both you and your mum.”

  “Thank you,” Fritz said once again. “I’ll make sure I tell her when I ring her up later tonight.”

  Michael looked at Ronan, who looked at Ciaran, who would have looked at Penry except Fritz’s statement had sent him into such a state of shock that he couldn’t even move his head. It was a well-known fact that Fritz never called his mother. She went so far as to berate him about it in the middle of St. Martha’s during the last Parents Day Brunch. Michael didn’t know that, but it didn’t take a psychic to figure out that Fritz had a crush on Phaedra and was trying to appear reserved and well-mannered to make a good impression. A wise move, Michael thought, but one he hoped wouldn’t last too long. He was actually starting to find Fritz’s obnoxious behavior a lot less obnoxious and much more palatable.

  Fritz made his next move when the group started to walk down Paradise Road, the not-so-subtle name for Eden’s main avenue. He brushed past Ciaran and quite smoothly squeezed his way in between Imogene and Phaedra. When Ciaran fell back a few steps, he found himself between Michael and Ronan and, feeling awkward, immediately tried to navigate himself onto the other side of Michael. Before he could get all the way over, Ronan put his hand on his brother’s shoulder and said, “You’re fine right where you are.” Ciaran assumed the gracious comment was meant to impress Michael, but he latched on to it anyway.

  Penry, overhearing some of what Ronan said, turned around, not letting go of Imogene’s hand of course, and said, “I’m fine too, but yesterday my eyes were so sensitive to the light I felt like Nakano! Thought I was going to have to wear sunglasses today. Isn’t that weird?”

  Once again Ciaran was speechless, so Ronan spoke. “You’re a weird bloke, Penry. What do you expect?”

  “That’s what I told him,” Imogene said, tossing her head around. “I said, ’Pens, you’re a right sod weirdo.’ “

  Penry didn’t even hear the jeer, just his nickname, and when Imogene twisted her head back to the front, he informed his friends, “She calls me Pens.”

  Ciaran forced a smile and when Penry turned back around, he glanced at Ronan. Ronan, however, aware of Michael’s presence, didn’t acknowledge Ciaran or the fact that Penry had suffered an aftereffect from Nakano’s attack that he hadn’t anticipated. He took a deep breath, hoping the others would think he was breathing in the country air and not recognize it as a worried sigh, and wondered just what else he had ignored.

  The one person he couldn’t ignore was Michael. Across the street from the Eden Arms hotel was a small English garden that was still lush despite the lack of colorful flowers that usually filled the ground during the spring and summer months. This time of year the garden was more a cavalcade of greens and browns, not as vibrant but still robust. Ronan and Michael sat together on a bench, and Ronan couldn’t decide which was more beautiful, his boyfriend’s sweet grin or the ma
jestic weeping willow that was the centerpiece of the garden. Its trunk, surrounded by a pile of fallen leaves, thrust upward about three stories and then exploded into a spray of curved branches that created a domelike effect. As if he were reading Ronan’s mind, Michael looked up and could see slithers of blue peek through the willow’s makeshift ceiling. He felt like he was looking at a piece of heaven.

  “Catching up on Oscar?” Ronan asked, holding a brand-new copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray.

  Instinctively, Michael patted the now-empty pocket of his jacket from where the book must have fallen. “You got me.” A bit embarrassed that Ronan found out he was reading his favorite novel, Michael looked away and swallowed a mouthful of hot cider until he could think of an excuse. The liquid filled his throat with warmth and the courage to just be honest. “Can you believe I’ve never read it?”

  Ronan examined the cover. A beautiful young man with haunting green eyes stared out at him, and behind the man a portrait of his inner self, decayed and grotesque. Ronan shivered, not because of the chilly air, and leafed through the book as if looking for a specific passage, stopping only when he came to the piece of paper Michael was using as a bookmark. It was Ronan’s drawing. “You know,” Michael said, “maybe if we put that portrait in the attic I can stay forever youthful?”

  I can make you stay forever youthful and beautiful and happy if you just let me. Ronan heard the words so clearly in his head he wasn’t sure if he had spoken them aloud. “It could happen?”

  Michael’s face turned serious. “You’re forgetting one thing.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t have an attic.” Ronan didn’t laugh along with Michael right away, but Michael found his comment so funny, he didn’t notice. “Hey, maybe there’s an attic in the cathedral; we can put my portrait up there! I can be forever youthful and holy at the same time.” If Michael knew that Ciaran was watching him from across the garden, he probably wouldn’t have let his hand linger so long on Ronan’s knee when he gave it a little squeeze. But at the moment, he felt like he and Ronan were the only two people in the world. Ronan felt the same way, which was why he was able to push the conversation into more serious territory.

  “You laugh, but if the soul is immortal, why not the body?”

  But Michael was having too good a time with his boyfriend to be coaxed into having a provocative conversation. “Because if the body were immortal and eternally youthful, there would be no need to ever get a facial, and I’m kind of looking forward to having one when I’m a middle-aged gay man.” Michael’s silliness was infectious and Ronan found himself chuckling despite the serious thoughts that were embedded in his mind. “So please, Ronan, don’t take that dream away from me.”

  “They really are adorable, aren’t they?” Imogene observed.

  Penry turned to see who his girlfriend was talking about. “It’s nice to see Ronan happy again. He was miserable after that row with Nakano.”

  Imogene put a spoonful of whipped cream into her mouth, the crowning glory of her coffee concoction. “I think Michael’s perfect for him. When you’re the strong, silent type like Ronan, you need a boyfriend who’s more gregarious, bit more of an extrovert. Plus, Michael’s a lot cuter than Nakano, don’t you think, Ciaran?”

  Startled because he was only half listening, Ciaran wasn’t sure what Imogene was rambling on about. “What?”

  “Oh, don’t be like that,” she chastised. “You don’t have to be gay to notice if a bloke’s handsome or not, right, Pens?”

  Penry shrugged his shoulders. “He’s a good-looking chap, I guess. Not as handsome as me, but then again, who is?” Ciaran welcomed the opportunity to laugh, anything to hide how he was truly feeling at the moment. Here he was sitting among his friends and yet he felt very much alone. Imogene and Pens were so smitten with each other, there were moments when Ciaran felt like he had crashed their own private party. A few feet away, Fritz and Phaedra were sharing a bench and that all-important first conversation that was magical because it was filled with both awkwardness and awe. And across from him Ronan and Michael were giggling and talking and touching. He heard a rustling in the trees and looked up to see a bird bouncing from branch to branch as if it were lost and was trying to find its way. I know just how you feel, Ciaran silently remarked.

  “Imogene,” Phaedra called out. “You promised to help me pick out a dress for the festival when I reached my goal weight.”

  “Okay, but, um, don’t you have five more pounds to go?” Imogene teased.

  Feigning outrage while everyone around her laughed, Phaedra tried to keep a straight face. “I am three pounds away! Now come on. I’ll buy you something with my mother’s credit card.”

  “Perfect! I wanted to get elbow-length gloves but ran out of money,” Imogene replied, then instructed, “Boys, we’ll catch up with you in an hour in front of the Apple Tree.”

  “Sir! Yes, sir!” Penry replied, signing off as if she were a four-star general and he a common private.

  “You’ll pay for that later, Pens,” Imogene shouted as she grabbed Phaedra’s arm and the two sauntered off toward the few gift shops that populated Eden.

  “I’m counting on it,” Penry mumbled to himself.

  “And you promised to help me buy some lab supplies at that old apothecary store.” At first Ciaran didn’t realize Ronan was talking to him. “I have to buy a flowmeter test tube and you’re the only person who knows what that is, so come on.”

  Ciaran heard some chirping and looked up to see that the bird was now settled and sharing a branch with another, more vividly colored bird. “How can I deny my expertise to someone in need?” He looked away before he could see that they flew off in different directions.

  “Thank you,” Ronan said, and then mouthed the same words to Michael, who nodded and smiled, both unaware that Ciaran witnessed the exchange. Ciaran realized his earlier assumption that Ronan’s words were merely meant to impress Michael were true. His hurt only deepened when they were out of earshot from the others and Ronan whispered to him, “And let your big brother buy you some lunch. Lord knows I don’t spend any quid on food.” His kindness was just a game.

  Michael smiled, watching them turn the corner. As much as he enjoyed Ronan’s company, he could let him hang out with his brother for an hour. It wasn’t like anything exciting was going to happen while they were apart.

  “Hawksbry’s a poof!” Fritz shouted, pointing down the narrow alley that separated the coffee shop and an antique store that, despite the OPEN FOR BUSINESS sign in its front window, was pitch black inside.

  “What are you talking about?” Penry asked. Then he saw. “Oh my God!” It was indeed the headmaster, Alistair Hawksbry, walking down the alleyway arm in arm with another man.

  “I knew it!” Fritz declared. “I always knew it! Hawksbry’s a homo.” Then Fritz remembered he was standing next to Michael. “No offense, mate, but he’s always so neat and tidy. It’s just not right.” So much for a kinder, gentler Fritz, Michael thought. “Come on.”

  Fritz ran across the street toward the alley, and Penry and Michael followed like Pavlovian dogs. They didn’t think about what they were doing; they just knew they had to do it. Luckily, they were all wearing sneakers, so they didn’t make too much noise on the cobblestones, but if either Hawksbry or his companion turned around, the three of them would have been seen. There was simply nowhere to hide. Halfway down the alley, Michael realized that if the man with his arm wrapped around Hawksbry’s waist did turn around, he wouldn’t just be seen, he’d be recognized. “That guy’s my father’s driver,” Michael whispered.

  “You and your father’s driver are both gay?” Fritz asked.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Michael asked.

  “Nothing,” Fritz said. “But you gotta admit, it is a little queer, you know, two gays in one family.”

  “He’s not part of my family!”

  “Mates!” Penry interrupted. “Looks like our boys have disappeared.
”

  They all turned to look down the alleyway and saw that Penry was right; it was empty. “Where’d they go?” Fritz asked rhetorically and then started walking down the cobbled path. When they walked a bit farther, they realized the alley led to a dead end. Fritz was astounded. “The poofs just poofed into thin air.”

  “Or they’re on the other side of this door,” Michael suggested.

  Fritz couldn’t be blamed too harshly for missing the door; it was made to blend into the surrounding wall. The only clues that there was a door in the stone wall were a small metal horizontal plate that looked as if it could only be opened from the inside, and two feet below and a few inches to the right was a keyhole without any kind of doorknob. “Bet it’s one of those secret gay bars,” Fritz surmised.

  “In Eden?” Penry asked. “I can’t imagine that kind of bar here, you know, in the middle of nowhere.”

  “Nebraska, what’s the code to get in?”

  Michael was dumbfounded. First, the headmaster and his father’s driver were a couple; second, there was a secret gay bar in an alleyway in this little country town; and third, Fritz thought he knew some secret code that would get them inside. “Fritz, you’ve lost your mind. I don’t know any code.”

  “I do,” Penry announced, and proceeded to knock on the door.

  “Have you lost your mind too?” Michael asked. “What if somebody answers?”

  What was Michael talking about? Penry thought. “That’s the whole point.”

  When the metal plate slid open, both Michael and Fritz jumped back. Penry was the only one who appeared calm and stood his ground. But once he realized the man behind the door was wearing sunglasses, he became excited and forgot that he was going to ask if they could enter. “Blimey! Is the sun bothering your eyes too? Just yesterday I felt the same way.” Penry turned to his friends to ask, “Could something be going around?” By the time he turned back, the metal plate was back in its original position, closed. Immediately, Penry knocked on the door again. “Hey, mister, do you mind letting us in?”