In Flesh and Stone

by Hal Bodner

  “Just let it out,” Charles urged. Joey sniffed a few times, cast about for a tissue and, finding none within reach, uncharacteristically used the arm of his jacket to wipe his eyes and nose.

  The three unlikely friends sat for a while, crying with varying degrees of volume until the tears at last ceased flowing. When they were finished, Charles cleared his throat a few times before he was able to speak. “Corey, you’d better call Nadine. And his therapist, what’s her name?”

  “Cheryl,” Joey told him, then to Corey, “It’s in the book under Dawnsquirrel. How many of those could there be in this city?”

  Corey made as if to comply, thankful for something to do to keep him occupied. But before he’d gotten more than a few feet from the table, one of the orderlies poked his head into the lounge and called out, “Doctor Caprese? You’d better go in there.”

  In a flash, Joey had dashed the remnants of tears from his eyes and bolted off.

  “What’s wrong?” Charles demanded.

  “Um, you’ll have to talk to one of the doctors...”

  “Young man,” Charles cut him off and brought the full might of his impressive personality to bear on the hapless orderly. “I was not asking...” His voice held a distinct not of warning in it.

  The orderly said nothing. He simply and sadly shook his head.

  * * * *

  Alex watched in wonder as little motes of sparkling gold dust appeared on the empty scale opposite from where he stood. The tiny particles glowed as they wound about each other in a pixie-like pas de deux which he found delightful to watch. Grinning at first, he followed the tiny dancers weaving in and out. Their motions grew faster and more intricate, and finally Alex found himself laughing with joy at their graceful antics. As the pace increased, so did the illumination they generated until, try as he might to see what they were doing, he had to release his grip from the scale pan’s chains to shield his eyes.

  Through closed lids he sensed the luminescence abating and opened his eyes. There on the other pan stood his lover, gloriously nude, his bare skin kissed by the fairy-like motes so that it seemed as if Tony’s body was generating the glow. Tony was smiling placidly and warmly with an air of complete and utter content. Alex longed to leap the distance between them, to stand beside him and take him in his arms and never to let him go, but he knew the weighing pans were too far apart.

  All thoughts of falling fleeing from his mind, he stretched both his arms out in Tony’s direction. The scale swayed but his feet were firmly planted. He longed to call out to his lover but found he could not make a sound.

  Tony seemed not to see him and Alex felt a hitch in his chest when he realized he was somehow invisible to the man he loved. But the expression on Tony’s face was so beatific, so peaceful, Alex feared any sound he might make to call attention to himself might interrupt the ecstatic reverie and, that, he did not want to do. To deny his lover the experience of whatever he was feeling would be selfish, a crime, and Alex wanted nothing more than for Tony to have more of whatever it was.

  “We begin.”

  The artist scarcely heard Libra’s voice and only realized he had spoken when the brass under his feet began swaying once again. The strange giant held the scales out from his body, allowing Tony’s and Alex’s weight to shift the pans. Up and down they moved in a slow seesaw motion. First Alex was lifted up, so far that he dropped to his knees and scurried to the edge, unmindful of the vast drop below, if only he could keep his lover in sight. Then he sat back on his butt, stretching his neck when Tony passed by and ascended above him, desperately seeking to keep him in view until all he could see was the polished brass bottom of the opposing pan.

  The arcs were huge at first. Alex felt like he was in a fast-moving elevator. His stomach repeatedly dropped, recovered itself, then dropped again. The air rushing past made him dizzy with exhilaration. All through the back-and-forth motion, he held only one thought in his mind: Tony.

  So gradually that it was almost imperceptible, the movement of the scales slowed. The arcs became less distinct and he was able to see Tony throughout the entirety of the swing. After what seemed the longest time, the pans wobbled within a few scant feet of equality, shimmering and swaying until finally, they reached equilibrium.

  When it seemed like all motion had stopped, the huge face of Libra came closer and he critically examined the weighing pans. First one, then the other captured his attention. He grunted softly a few times with brow furrowed in concentration. Alex had no idea what he was doing.

  Finally, after an interminable time, Libra smiled and spoke.

  “It is done.”

  Alex and Tony were in perfect balance.

  * * * *

  When Joey Caprese came into the lounge again, he looked both lost and haggard. Wordlessly, he picked up his previously forgotten and now cold cup of coffee and drained it in a few long swallows. His face was pale, his eyes sunken in deep pits. Though the doctor was a handsome young man, Charles and Corey both had their first inklings that he would not age very well.

  The couple clutched each other’s hands tightly. Both their fingers would be stiff and sore tomorrow, but for the moment, neither had any attention to spare for anything other than Joey. They impatiently waited, not daring to speak, for the doctor to give them news – while at the same time, terrified that he would.

  “I’m sorry,” Joey whispered. He seemed to be speaking only to the empty air. Corey choked back a gasp of denial and the sound seemed to stir Joey’s eyes into coming back into focus.

  “Who?” Charles began. “I mean...which one?” His voice was dull and leaden with disbelief.

  “Both,” Joey said. “They’re both gone. They died...” His throat dried up and he had to clear it before beginning again. “They died at the same moment.”

  Tears streamed down Charles’s cheeks. Corey’s eyes darted around the room, seeking to focus on something, as if his mind had refused to comprehend what he’d just heard. The coffee cup Joey had been holding hit the floor with a moist plop. Without another word, Joey turned and, staggering like some drunken automaton, he left the room.

  CHAPTER 12

  “What do you mean, no funeral?” Nadine was furious. “This is Alex Restin we’re talking about here! Not some wino who died on the street. I never heard of such a thing!”

  Charles Wannamaker shifted his stance uncomfortably. He held his once stylish hat in his hands. Now it was mangled and twisted like a wrung out washcloth.

  “There will be a memorial service, of course. I was rather hoping you’d agree to some sort of special showing of his work.”

  Nadine dismissed the idea as if it had already been taken care of. “Of course,” she said. “But what’s this nonsense about the funeral?”

  “There are no bodies, Nadine,” Charles explained patiently again. He’d known this meeting would be terribly difficult and that Nadine would be apoplectic, but it had been almost a week since Alex and Tony had died and he had been unable to think of any more excuses to postpone it.

  “How can they lose two bodies? Two bodies in the same day?”

  Charles shrugged. He’d been over this with the hospital several times. When no one could give him a satisfactory answer, his lawyers had revisited it with the hospital’s legal staff. No matter how much he threatened, pleaded, no matter how rational he was or how logically he urged them to come up with an answer, none was forthcoming. Alex and Tony had vanished without a trace. No one knew how it had happened and nobody knew where they were. “Joey’s a mess about it.”

  “He should be!” the old lady cried.

  “I’m serious, Nadine. Corey and I both think he’s on the verge of a breakdown. If you see him, I’m warning you to take it easy.”

  “How could such a thing happen? It’s bad enough that both...” A sob crept out. “That both my boys are gone.”

  “Here. Use this.” Charles handed her a silk pocket square and she looked blankly at the proffered piece of cloth. “Your eye m
akeup. It’s all blotchy.” He smiled sadly at her. “We may be a couple of decrepit old codgers, my dear, but there’s no reason we have to look like we are.”

  She snatched the handkerchief and blotted at her eyes so forcefully that Charles feared she would accidentally put one of them out. When she held the cloth out to him to take from her, he indicated she should keep it and, for the rest of the conversation, she tugged at it as if trying to rip it in half.

  “After it was...over,” he began, “Corey and I went to see them. Joey just couldn’t bring himself to go back. They were so...so peaceful, Nadine. And they looked so happy. All the color was back in Tony’s face – they’d taken the breathing tube out and I swear, he looked as good as he did when he got back from that cruise, just before he took sick. And Alex...” He gulped air to keep from starting to cry again. “Alex had this smile on his face. You know the way he was when he saw a painting he was taken with? It was like at the very moment he passed, he had seen something indescribably beautiful and...and it filled him with...I don’t know...bliss.

  “We stayed with them for a while. Corey kept arranging and rearranging the sheets for some reason. Just before we left the room, I...” He choked with emotion, unable to continue until he’d mastered it. “I took their hands – they were still quite warm – and I laced them together. I don’t know why I did it. It just seemed like the right thing to do. Then there were papers to sign and forms to fill out. Any time someone dies they make you sit down with one of the doctors for a little talk. I suspect they think it eases the grief but, frankly, it’s just an irritating nuisance. All Corey and I wanted to do was either go home, or go back in and sit with them. We couldn’t seem to make up our minds which was best to do. Normally Joey would have been the one to meet with but...” He shook his head. “I’m worried about him. He always seems so confident.”

  “Bossy, is what I call him.” Nadine said with a meager attempt at smiling through her tears.

  “True. But he completely collapsed. He walked around like a zombie, actually banging into the walls without noticing. One of the other doctors had to sedate him. Not very appropriate for a physician in his position, I know. Especially not after he’d just finished going head to head with his boss about putting them in the same room in the ICU. Fortunately,” Charles blushed with false modesty, “I’m not without influence. I was able to manage things so he won’t lose his job. At the same time, I insisted they give him bereavement leave even though Alex and Tony weren’t, strictly speaking, relatives. I hired an extremely attractive young friend of Corey’s to be his companion and this morning, we put the two of them on a cruise ship for the next two weeks.”

  “While I am fascinated by your rousing stories of the young, beautiful, gay and rich, Charles, I’m waiting for you to tell me how the damned hospital lost my boys!”

  The old gentleman fidgeted uncomfortably. He still hadn’t managed to make sense of what had happened and, frankly, he disliked being forced to remember it.

  “We were gone for maybe an hour and, when we went back into the room to say one last good-bye...” His words faded and he looked like a kicked puppy.

  “They just disappeared?”

  “The two nurses at the duty station swore up and down that no one had gone into the room after we left. Besides, it would have been tough for them to miss two bodies being wheeled down the hall. The...um...morgue people hadn’t even been called yet. The hospital prefers to do that after the families have left. We double-checked anyway but none of the attendants in the morgue even knew anyone had died, let alone had come up and collected them.”

  Nadine repressed her urge to launch into a tirade about the incompetence of everyone involved with the situation when she saw how miserable Charles looked. It was an effort to quell her angry grief, but she mastered it.

  “I’m sorry, Charles. I don’t like this. Not one bit. But I know if there was anything anybody could do to solve this terrible mystery, you’ve already done it.”

  “Thank you. I mean that sincerely.”

  “Well.” She made a fairly passable effort to return to her normal attitude of brisk business. “We’ll have the memorial here, then. I know a church is traditional but neither of them was particularly devout and besides, this was Alex’s church.”

  Charles nodded.

  “I’ll need to get into the new apartment. I’ve already got the keys to the townhouse, so all I have to do is let the tenants know when I’m coming over. I’m planning on moving all this other stuff…” She indicated the paintings lining the walls and the sculptures on the various pedestals. “…Into temporary storage. I don’t want anything in this place for the memorial that isn’t Alex’s work. When I go over to this library place he bought, I’ll need to borrow Corey. If anyone knows where Alex kept things he was working on or pieces he’d finished but hadn’t shown me yet, it’d be your boy toy.”

  “I’m not so sure,” Charles began slowly, “we can call him that any more. This whole experience has changed him. Normally he’s in and out of my life for only a few days at most, but this time, well, it’s been almost two weeks, and do you know the little dickens hasn’t even disappeared for a night on the town in the bars? Not once.”

  “I’m happy for you, Charles.” She realized how dull and toneless her voice sounded and quickly forced some life into it. “No, really, I am. It’s about time he settled down and I can’t think of anyone better than you to rein him in. Besides, I know how you’ve felt about him for years now and, well, I’d like to say that you deserve the best. Only I’m not sure that Corey is the best. Nevertheless, I know how happy he makes you, Charles, and for that, I’m glad. I’m just...” Her shoulders sagged a bit. “Tired, Charles. I’m terribly tired. I don’t mean to be rude, but I really think I’d like to be alone.”

  “Of course.” Charles placed his mangled hat on his head and moved toward the door.

  “Just make sure to send the new, improved and, please pray God, more mature version of the boy toy over here tomorrow so I can get started planning a memorial showing. There’s a lot to do and not a bunch of time, but I guess the activity will do me good.”

  Charles Wannamaker paused in the doorway and, looking back at the proud capable businesswoman he had known for so many years and seeing how defeated and small she suddenly looked, he sighed. For the first time in a very long time, he felt the burden of every year of his age.

  * * * *

  “Well, Charles, I may not be as rich as you are but...”

  Corey stood in the center of the condo. His eyes traveled across the paint-splattered marble floors and lingered with sweet melancholia on Alex’s easel, which supported an untouched canvas set up in preparation for his friend’s next burst of creativity.

  “You will never be as rich as I am, dear boy.” Charles put one companionable arm across his shoulder and kissed him on the ear. “It takes generations to become that wealthy and you, my love, are entirely too young – as the twinges in my lower back remind me every morning that you wake up all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and, as we used to say back in the old days, hot to trot.”

  “But it’s a start, right?” Corey kept looking around the room. There was still an airy boyishness about him but a new quality, something more mature and purposeful, was beginning to emerge.

  Charles released him and went to perch on the foot of the bed. “Why this sudden obsession with wealth? You never cared about money before. At least, not so long as you had enough to get by.”

  “I still don’t,” Corey replied offhandedly as his gaze drifted upwards. “This whole thing with Alex and Tony, I dunno. Life is kind of short, isn’t it?”

  “A clichéd platitude but truer words were never spoken.”

  “I do have a business degree from college, you know. That’s where I met Alex.”

  “As you’ve told me many times.”

  “I’m just thinking, maybe I should put it to use. You know, do something with my life?”

  “Do som
ething?” Charles feigned shocked surprise. “Dear, sweet child. I have more money than Midas. You needn’t do anything other than sit around and look pretty if that’s what you want.”

  “That’s just it,” Corey fretted. “I don’t think that’s what I want anymore. The clubs, the parties, the drinking, even the hot guys. They all seem so, I dunno, meaningless now.”

  “What old movie did you clip that speech from?”

  Corey grinned and launched himself at the older man, bearing him backward onto the bed until he was trapped beneath his weight. He kissed him deeply and when he was done, licked the end of his nose mischievously. “I’ve had some great sex in my time, Charles.”

  “I don’t doubt it.”

  “And you are not the best, old man. I want you to know that. Alex was the best.”

  Charles couldn’t help breaking into a grin of his own and said, with mock gravity, “Far be it from me to disparage the departed. Competition is impossible, so I will gallantly cede the title of Best to our dear friend.”

  “But you... You, Charles…” Corey playfully loosened the banker’s tie and undid the first few buttons of his starched shirt so he could plant a few light kisses on his throat. “You are pretty fucking amazing for an old goat.”

  “Baaaaa,” was Charles’s only reply.

  Corey moved off of him and lay at his side, head propped up on one arm. “I still can’t believe Alex left everything to me.”

  “Except the paintings.”

  Corey dismissed the artwork. “They would have ended up with Nadine anyway. I wouldn’t have known what to do with them.” His free hand casually played with the gray hair of Charles’s chest, exposed by the open collar. “She’s welcome to them, for all I care. Everything Tony had went to Alex and everything Alex had, he gave me. Hey!” A thought seemed to strike him. “I can even afford to take you on vacation now, can’t I?”