Smiling at the thought of Reggie in Los Angeles, Andy finally shut down and went to sleep.
Two weeks later - weeks full of dance rehearsals, photography, and speed-writing ‘Countdown 4’ - Victor woke up when it was still dark, which was unusual. Molly wasn’t curled up by his feet; Andy wasn’t by his side. He blinked, frowned, noticed a faint light through the half-closed bathroom door.
And then, now that he was listening for it, heard a soft low voice. “Yeah, I know. Me too, Mom. Most of the time I’m living life and things are fine. But sometimes it hits me. Of course it’s terrible for you. You lived with him for fifty-four years. I only lived with him for eighteen. Who said you should be over it? Well, fuck them. It’s barely been three months. Tell them, my son Andy, the movie star, says go fuck yourself.” A soft laugh. “Yeah I know.
But it sounds better than my son Andy who’s married to a movie star. Oh, he’s great. He’s perfect. How did you like those pictures? I don’t know if he’s going to let me cut my hair for a while. Yeah, I’m getting all desperado up in here. I’ll send you the link as soon as this new dance is done. He’s killing it. We never had so much time to work on one before. He’s doing stuff he thought he couldn’t do. Well yeah, of course I knew he could do it. He’s a talented son of a bitch. So is that one guy still trying to get in your pants?”
Another, less-soft but muffled laugh. “Oh shit Mom stop, I’ll wake him up.
Yes it’s the ass-crack of dawn on this side of the continent. No, it’s fine.
We’re on vacation, I can nap all day. Call me anytime. No, I mean it, any damn time. I love you too.”
Victor was sitting on the side of the bed in his robe, cherishing those casual words, waiting for Andy to finish talking. As soon as he did, Victor went through the bathroom and into the sunroom. It wasn’t full dark. The sun would be up in an hour. The light from the phone was less noticeable out here. Molly looked up and thumped her tail. Andy gave him an apologetic smile. “Sorry.”
“Not a problem.” Victor leaned over for a kiss. “Everything okay with your mom?”
“Eh. She’s how you’d expect. Okay most of the time, fucked up some of the time.” Andy rested his head on the back of the chair. “When’s the last time you saw John?” Victor’s father, who still went in to work every day at his car dealership near San Diego.
“It’s been a while. I was thinking I should go.”
“Isn’t his birthday in October?”
“Yeah. He’s going to be eighty-two, can you believe that?” Victor was standing behind Andy now, hands on his shoulders. He dug his thumbs into those tight trapezius muscles and felt Andy start to relax.
“I didn’t realize he was older than Pop.”
“His other son is your age.” Not ‘my brother,’ because by the time Victor came to the United States both of John Larson’s other children were already grown and out of the house. They knew each other, they were all friendly in a careful sort of way, but they weren’t family.
“Do not tell me John is a great-grandfather already.” Andy had recently realized – thanks to having Loretta in the house all this time – that he himself could, technically, be a grandfather.
Victor laughed softly. “Not yet. You want to go down there with me?
Couple of days at the beach, go into Escondido, take the old man out for a birthday dinner?”
“Sure. That would be great.” They were quiet for a minute. “Trying to decide if I should make some coffee, or go back to bed.”
“If you can’t decide, there must be something on your mind. You won’t sleep anyway. How about I make some coffee, and you get ready to tell me what’s on your mind. Then maybe we’ll go back to bed.” He squeezed Andy’s shoulders and went into the bathroom to set up the coffeemaker.
“Remember what a scene Patrick made about these bathrooms?”
Andy huffed out a laugh. “He didn’t stop bitching for weeks. He still wants his own sunroom.” He stayed where he was, curled up in his chair, while Victor came to the sunroom door, collected Molly, and took her down the outdoor stairs to the backyard. By the time they returned, the coffee was ready. Andy accepted a mug and another kiss. “Thanks, sweetheart. I’m really okay.”
“I know you’re okay. Let me be nice once in a while.”
“You’re almost always nice.”
“I thought I was perfect.”
Andy laughed into his coffee. “I’ve been telling you that for years.” He uncurled himself, setting his feet on the ottoman. Pointing, flexing, curling his toes. They cracked. “Yeah, fuck you, feet. I was thinking about something
Pop told me on the way to Key West.” Victor didn’t press him. “We were talking about their trip out here, for the wedding. When they met John, and everybody else. Mom started by saying how glad she was that we got married then, when they could come. And then of course she said she was glad we got married at all, after living in sin all that time. Pop was cracking up. Then he starts talking about, I guess this was before the ceremony because after that it was party all night, he wasn’t super clear about the timeline. Anyway he said, okay, from here on out this is Pop talking.” Victor made a sound of comprehension. “Me and John were talking about our boys. He said how proud he was of Victor, my son the movie star. He said
