To Marek, time seemed to speed past, although he wondered how that was possible. Seth and Eric were still in Miami, and the letter Marek had written at the beginning of the month had not been answered. On that last Sunday of October, he considered what had changed since a year ago when the entire world had been held hostage by two governments, also how his life had altered since Eric’s visit, when Marek’s past had been revealed to the painter, although not in the usual manner of communication. And now it had been nearly four months since Eric had left for Florida, and while Seth was continuing to improve, no word from Laurie about Seth’s probable discharge from the hospital had been forthcoming. Laurie and Marek were in close contact, and those letters and the occasional phone call had kept Marek from dwelling too much on a note he was now certain wouldn’t arrive. Klaudia had made it quite clear, in precise Polish, that she didn’t require further contact. Marek had taken a chance, based upon the viewpoint of one perceptive woman. Now just as Lynne had to wait, Marek did too.
Yet, Lynne was eager for more than only her husband’s return, and now that other event had begun to usurp their chats. Lynne had decided to have her baby at home, with Renee and Fran’s help in addition to the doctor. Marek had offered to watch Jane, for depending on when Lynne went into labor, Sam might be caring for the Aherns’ children. Marek had finally been introduced to Paul and Ann, and like everyone else, he was stunned by the physical similarities shared between people not biologically related. He had also seen other likenesses; Ann could be impudent, although shyness masked much of her sassiness. Paul was a thoughtful child, yet around Johnny Canfield a sense of mischief emerged, and Marek had remarked upon that to Lynne and Fran last weekend when the families got together at the Aherns for a pot luck. Marek had been invited, and while he’d said little to Paul and Ann, he enjoyed a good chat with Fran and Louie, relieved to hear no sadness in their voices. They were thrilled for Sam and Renee, and their losses from a year ago seemed to have slipped into a safe place where regrets weren’t painful. Marek hadn’t thought about Klaudia on that evening, too many warm feelings from people he was starting to consider his family. But with no reply forthcoming, it was probably time to set that woman back where she had dwelled for the last twenty years. Yet, unlike where he kept his family, there was no room in Eric’s blue barn for Klaudia, or her son, about whom Marek knew almost nothing.
The only information Marek possessed concerning that boy was that something about him pained Klaudia deeply. Marek had realized that from what she had initially written to Eric, asking if Marek had a child. Something about Klaudia’s son was amiss, then Marek tutted himself, for she had made no mention of any problem, not to Eric Snyder or to Marek Jagucki. Yet Marek would bet the amount of his recent poker winnings that Klaudia had more on her plate than a dead spouse. Considering that, he walked the length of the church corridor, having just said goodbye to the last parishioner. It hadn’t been Lynne; she and Jane had gone to church with the Aherns, easing Paul and Ann into the habit of weekly worship. Marek had missed the Snyder ladies, but maybe it was easier on Lynne to attend services with Sam and Renee, at least until Eric returned.
Marek kept Klaudia’s two letters in his lower bureau drawer, although once Eric came home, that first note would be returned to its rightful owner. Marek retrieved them, then sat on his bed, staring at her handwriting. It was the same on both envelopes, although the script was larger on the one addressed to Eric. On the other, Klaudia had written Marek’s name in haste, for it seemed scribbled, or maybe the smaller handwriting evoked that notion. He pulled out the sheets from that envelope, their native language a joy for Marek to read, even if she’d had little to say. He hadn’t read this note to Lynne, for upon inspection, Marek had found nothing indicating what Lynne seemed to think. Yet, Marek had followed that woman’s instruction, writing back even if little hope remained. Perhaps his letter reminded Klaudia of notes he’d left in her windowsill, a small crack created from messages wedged in the aged wood. He had never received written responses to those notes, but she always answered his queries the next day, walking home from school together or….
He sighed aloud. Pining for someone from two decades in the past seemed futile, not to mention how young they had been, or what they had lived through in the interim. Marek didn’t assume his sufferings had been harder, for she had married, was now widowed, raising a child on her own. And something with that child was…. He studied her handwriting, was his Polish rusty, had she included some reference to an illness or injury or….
But the words were just the same as the last time he’d read them. He sighed, then closed his eyes, praying for peace of mind for them both. What came next was out of Marek’s hands, while right there in town plenty of people needed his attention. With that thought, Marek put away the letters, then made his way into the kitchen. He called the Snyders, but no one picked up. He smiled, assuming that Lynne was probably having lunch with the Aherns, or rather, the Ahern family. Making himself a sandwich, Marek ate in the quiet of the church kitchen, stealing glances at the painting hanging near the sink. Better for Lynne to be surrounded by friends, Jane too. Over Eric, Marek offered supplications, covering Seth as well. Marek finished his lunch, setting his plate in the sink. He didn’t wash it, but he stared at that canvas, thinking of the man who’d painted it. Marek missed their friendship, then for a moment he allowed a curious thought; why had God brought him here, in a rather commonplace town, but with one extraordinary citizen? And now that Marek had some equally astonishing news, Eric was far away. Both men were in a wilderness of sorts, Marek then smiled, undergoing a time of testing. Yet the reasons for those trials were far past what Marek could imagine. He walked out of the kitchen, heading back to his room. Grabbing a hat, gloves and a scarf Lynne had recently knitted for him, Marek decided to take a walk. Autumn days would be giving way to winter’s chill before he knew it.
On that same Sunday afternoon, Laurie and Stanford returned from Brooklyn, having shared lunch with Rose and Wilma. Both women had baked for the occasion, and the men were stuffed with two kinds of cake, bringing home pieces as well. Agatha would appreciate those treats, but neither Laurie nor Stanford wanted another bite.
Stanford had hoped this trip might soothe Laurie’s mood, which had been strained all month. For the first few weeks, Stanford had ignored the slight irritation, which at first he blamed on the cooling temperatures. Laurie had grown used to Miami’s mild weather, but now with Halloween on the horizon, cold weather was right around the corner. Agatha seemed tolerant of Laurie’s short fuse, which had erupted that afternoon at Rose’s, much to everyone’s surprise. Laurie had actually shouted at one of his sisters, but had apologized profusely afterwards, yet a pall had been cast over the rest of the visit. Stanford hadn’t minded, in part that Laurie called for a taxi once feathers had been smoothed, and they left much earlier than originally intended. Yet Rose had insisted they take home coconut cake, for Agatha, she noted. Then Wilma made sure slices of chocolate cake were added to the plate, and now Stanford held a large platter that would have to be returned to Rose before Thanksgiving. Stanford would let Laurie see to that errand, then he stared at that man, who wore a frown. Stanford didn’t know what was bothering Laurie, unless he was starting to wonder who would leave the hospital first, Seth or Eric.
Stanford had refrained from asking Lynne how her husband was, although she still sent the occasional letter. Stanford had decided to cut personal ties with Eric, at least until that man made an overture, for it was too…. Stanford sighed. It had simply become too painful to consider Eric’s whereabouts. To pester Lynne was even more distasteful; she was over six months along, which had been mentioned at lunch. None of those in Brooklyn knew that Eric was in a similar place as Seth, so the banter had been light about that couple and their expected baby. All hoped it would be a boy, although Stanford didn’t feel that way at all, and he knew Laurie agreed with him. Then Stan shivered, although the cab’s interior was warm; Laurie’s temp
er had been sparked when his oldest sister said she hoped Lynne was expecting a son. Laurie had vehemently disagreed, silencing the entire gathering. Wilma had tactfully stepped in, and Laurie immediately stood, giving his sister a hug. But he hadn’t tried to offer an excuse, only extending his regrets, then trying to make light of Lynne’s condition. Maybe later the women would understand Laurie’s feelings, all they had to do was consider Seth, not that any current conflicts were underway. Or maybe the women in Laurie’s family felt as they did simply because there were so many of them.
And now several slices of cake would remind Stanford and Laurie of that afternoon, which Stanford wanted to put far from his and Laurie’s minds. Perhaps Agatha could be persuaded to take it all home with her tomorrow, then Stanford shook his head. That would be a burden on Agatha, on the subway no less. Stanford could take some to Emily; he wouldn’t even explain from where the pieces had originated. If Agatha had a slice of each, that would leave about half, then….
Stanford gazed at the man seated beside him. Laurie hadn’t spoken during the ride to Brooklyn, nor had he said anything since telling the driver their destination. Usually Stanford did that, but Laurie had barked the address, then fallen into a sullen silence, his arms crossed over his chest. Normally they chatted during the ride, but since Laurie had come home, nothing was…. Stanford didn’t want to consider this, he’d set aside anything out of the ordinary, but truthfully nothing had been right since Laurie left in June for Miami.
Fifteen minutes later the taxi pulled up in front of a tall building. Laurie got out first, while Stanford managed to keep the platter from tipping. Laurie paid their fare, then marched straight into the lobby. Normally Laurie waited for his partner, which never failed to annoy Stanford even after all these years. But that day Stanford entered the building alone, and by the time he reached the elevator, Laurie was nowhere to be seen.
Stanford wasn’t sure if Laurie had taken the stairs, as lately he’d gotten into the habit of doing, or if he’d caught the elevator and not held the door for one more. Stanford hoped it was the former, then he looked around, finding nobody else present. He huffed aloud, then took one step back as the elevator doors opened. No one emerged and he stepped inside, hitting the button for his floor. His fingers cramped, so he adjusted his grip on the platter. But Laurie wasn’t there to take it from him.
When Stanford reached their floor, no one walked ahead of him. He slowly approached their door, but sighed, having to place the dish on the carpet to retrieve his key. Laurie must have taken the stairs, Stanford thought, as he unlocked the door, collected the platter, then entered the apartment, hearing nothing. The door closed behind him, but he didn’t lock it, not wishing to stir Laurie’s ire.
By the time Stanford had taken the plate to the kitchen, then used the bathroom, Laurie was changing clothes in their bedroom. Stanford wanted to speak, but felt tongue-tied, then he sighed aloud. “Are you all right?” he said. “Did you take the stairs?” he then added, not wishing to start an argument.
Clearly Laurie was upset, for how he flung his trousers near, but not into, the hamper. Coins flew from his pockets, but he didn’t pick them up. Instead he roughly pulled out a drawer in his dresser, then closed it sharply. Again he pulled out another, but all that banging was giving Stanford a headache. “Fine,” he said, stepping from the room. “All I did was ask a simple question….”
“You asked two stupid questions,” Laurie shouted. “But as usual, you don’t wanna know a goddamned thing.”
Stanford had reached their doorway, which he gripped with his right hand. But he didn’t face Laurie. Gritting his teeth, Stanford took a breath, then let it out. “I’m not going to fight with you. Call your sister if you want to continue that kind of discussion.”
Laurie had a bitter laugh. “Of course you don’t wanna fight. God forbid we do anything but talk about the weather or have sex.”
Now Stanford faced his partner. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing, nothing, I’m sorry, I’m just….” Laurie’s tone had lost all its anger, replaced by a ragged weariness that before Stanford had only heard when Laurie spoke about Seth when that man was severely depressed. But according to Wilma, the news was good. Seth’s doctor had called her a few days ago, then Seth had gotten on the line, only for a moment, due to the long distance charges. Seth had told his mother he loved her, and that he hoped to be home for Hanukkah. All that meant to Stanford was that Seth would be back before the end of the year, but if that was true, why was Laurie so….
“What on earth is wrong?” Stanford now approached Laurie, who had sat on the end of the bed. Stanford debated whether or not to sit next to Laurie, or to kneel in front of him. He wanted to look Laurie in the eye, but getting up from the floor wouldn’t be easy. Stanford sat on the mattress, but he grasped Laurie’s hands. “Please tell me what’s going on. I love you and….”
And to say any more would cause Stanford great pain, not to mention what it would stir within this man who now trembled. Stanford squeezed Laurie’s hands, which were cold. “For God’s sake Laurie, what is it?”
“It’s nothing. Work’s been a bitch and….”
“That’s not it, or not all of it.” Stanford had witnessed Laurie in the middle of some very intense moments, both with sculptors and collectors, and never before had Laurie become so distraught. “Is there something about Seth you’re not telling me, something Wilma didn’t mention?”
“Oh Jesus Stan, if only.”
Stanford inwardly shivered. “Laurie, what?”
Laurie took a deep breath, then looked at Stanford. “It’s, it’s….” Laurie shook his head. “I’m just tired, Christ, I am so fucking exhausted.”
Taking his hands from Stanford’s grasp, Laurie stood, then rummaged through the still open dresser drawer. He slipped on a pair of sweatpants, then took off his undershirt. He closed that drawer, more quietly than before, then opened another, taking out a long sleeved shirt, which he put on. Deliberately he closed that drawer, then walked past where Stanford still sat at the foot of the bed. Laurie slipped on shoes, then paused, reaching the bedroom doorway. “I can’t talk about this, there’s nothing to talk about.”
As he went to leave, Stanford stood. “Which is it?”
Laurie turned around. “Which’s what?”
“Either there’s nothing to say or there’s something about which you don’t want to speak.”
For a moment Laurie looked puzzled, then he mumbled to himself. Then he smiled at Stanford. “There is something about which I don’t want to speak. My God Stan, sometimes you’re so fucking astute.”
Laurie laughed, but Stanford wasn’t eased, for the sound was chilling, as was the way Laurie had mocked him. “Don’t take that tone of voice with me,” Stanford said.
“You have no idea how I’ve tried to protect you, so don’t tell me what I can or can’t do.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” For a moment fury raged through Stanford. Then a more awful notion was considered. “Do you know something about Eric that I don’t?”
This had to be about Eric, or God forbid, had something happened to Lynne and the baby? “You tell me what the hell’s going on or I’m calling….” Stanford wouldn’t dare bother Lynne, but he could call Sam. Then Stanford grimaced. That man didn’t need to be pestered either, but Stanford required answers. “I’ll call Marek,” Stanford said. “That Pole’ll tell me what the hell’s happening.”
“For the love of God, don’t call anyone. I’m sorry Stan, I swear, it’s just me, I’m just….” Again Laurie used that ragged voice. Then he flung his arms around Stanford, who immediately reciprocated. “Please just forget about this, about all of it. I’m just so damned tired and….”
Stanford did want to forget, so he kissed Laurie, not wishing to hear anymore. That kiss led to several others, which took the men to their bed. But even after making love, Stanford was still disturbed. And so was Laurie, who had been seconds a
way from blurting the truth of Eric’s whereabouts. Laurie wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep that secret, while Stanford wondered how he could refrain from asking Lynne an equally painful query. It was only a matter of time before one of the men broke down, just a question of who cracked first.
Chapter 148