“Yeah, sure. What’d I miss?”
Two more nights, two more text exchanges because that was easier than calling, and then Victor picked up a text in the middle of the afternoon: Sweetheart if you can possibly get here I really need you we lost him Victor went straight to the location producer. They’d just wrapped a scene, they were ahead of schedule, and everybody liked Andy. They said they’d rearrange a couple of things, and let him go.
He got to the little house in Shorecrest at half-past two in the morning. A light was still on. He’d texted from the set, from the airport in Buffalo, and again when they landed in Miami. Andy’s reply to the last had been simply door will be unlocked thank you I love you. Victor walked into the quiet house, locked the door behind him, and set down his overnight bag on a chair in the kitchen. He was about to go looking for Andy when he heard that voice, a soft ‘hello,’ sounding hollow. Victor remembered that feeling. “Hi honey. I got here as fast as I could.” Andy walked into his arms.
There wasn’t anything that needed to be decided. There wasn’t anything that couldn’t wait for daylight. So they went straight to bed, where Victor held Andy while he cried, and then loved him until he could sleep. They were
both awake again before eight, when the scent of coffee filled the house.
Andy lay on his side staring at Victor. “They let you go.”
“They might have realized I would come no matter what they said.”
“Where’s Molly?”
“Loretta’s taking care of her. You want to talk about it?”
“Not yet.” Then, after a moment, “Yes.”
Victor had Andy’s left hand in his right. Their feet were touching under the sheet. The ceiling fan turned slowly overhead, morning light was slanting through the shutters, and there was a cricket singing somewhere in the room.
He remembered those details later. “I’ve got you,” he said softly.
Andy’s eyes flooded again. For once he didn’t try to hide it. “It was best-case scenario, really. We had two great days out on the boat with Bobby.
Then yesterday morning Mom came to my room and said baby, he’s gone.
He went in his sleep. So I went to find the manager, and she called the people who had to be called. Mom and I went back to her room and sat with Pop.
The manager brought us coffee with rum in it.” He smiled a little.
“It’s good you were here.”
“Like you and your mom. Knowing it’s coming doesn’t really help, does it.”
“No.” After a moment Victor said, “Do you want to tell our people yet?”
“Let’s wait. There’s not going to be an autopsy or any of that. No funeral. Only a memorial service. Once that’s set up, we can tell people.”
Andy watched as Victor sat up, reached for his phone, and sent a text to Jonathan and Loretta. He showed it to Andy: Will send details on memorial soon appreciate keeping it quiet till then thanks. Andy sat up, leaned forward to stretch, stayed there with his ribs on his thighs and his hands gripping his ankles. “That was just right, what you did last night. Everything you do is right.”
“I’ve fucked up a time or two.”
“So have I. Thanks for coming.” Andy sat up again, twisting his back.
“God I need to work out. I feel like a bag full of coat hangers.” He heard a stifled sound and turned his head. Victor was trying not to laugh. “You’d be doing me a favor if you laugh.”
“If you say so. Want to go get some coffee? With or without rum?”
“Maybe without rum today. Who needs rum when I have you.” Victor
scooted over, wrapped himself around Andy from behind, and kissed his cheek. Andy tilted his head back and rested his forehead against Victor’s.
After a minute he patted Victor’s arm. They untangled themselves and got out of bed.
Victor stayed as long as he could, which wasn’t long enough for him to be at the memorial. By his last night there, Andy and his mother were doing okay. Sufficiently okay to be arguing about where and when Eva would be moving. Sufficiently okay that when the house was full of Ronnie and Eva’s friends, and Andy’s friends from way back, both of them were able to smile and laugh and talk about the good things. Nobody paid much attention to Victor, aside from greeting him, asking how he was doing, thanking him from being there. It had been a long time since Victor was the afterthought in a room. He didn’t like it. He was aware of not liking it, told himself to button it down, made a mental note to talk about it with their counselor sometime.
Then Alonzo was shaking Andy’s hand again, hugging him again. Both hands on Andy’s clean-shaven face, a kiss on the forehead. Fucking Alonzo, Victor thought, envious because Alonzo had known Andy so long. He reminded himself that they weren’t together. They’d been a couple off and on for five years, but Victor already had more of Andy than Al ever had. They’d never lived together. Al was married too, fifty-five and balding and starting to show a little bit of a belly. Andy loved him, Victor, and there was no reason to doubt it. There never had been. Al said something. Andy said something back with a warm look. Then Al kissed him on the mouth. Closed mouth. Nothing unusual in this place, at this time. Victor had to turn his back, monitoring his breathing, slowing it down and shoving the surge of sick rage back in its box. What the fuck is wrong with you. He was facing somebody, somebody who said something, and Victor managed to respond in a way that must have seemed normal, or at least socially acceptable.
He thought Andy hadn’t noticed. The house was so full, so loud, so busy.
And the next day, Victor had to go back to Buffalo.
