Be Rad - 36. Chapter 36

October 19, 1980

I sat in the kitchen with Tonto that afternoon, notebook in hand, determined to do my part to make Billy's funeral perfect. Forgetting about the evil Billy that had been around for the past month or so had been good and bad for me. It was bad for me in that as the anger subsided the pain, the sheer tragedy of the loss, struck home. It was good because I was able to restrain that sorrow and channel it into making plans, getting organized, keeping busy. Someday I would have to face the fact that I had expected an awful lot of maturity from a guy who wasn't even 16 yet. Someday I would have to face the fact that he would probably have a visibly broken nose as he lay in his casket and that was my fault. Someday I would have to face the fact that I'd never had the chance to tell him that I was sorry, and probably even more important, to hear him say the same thing and to absolve him of the guilt that he felt. That would have to happen someday, but not today.

“Did you make a note to talk to Stefan about getting Jim and Donna here? We need to find out if Richard and Vanessa are coming, and if so, will they come on their own or with their parents. And Nick, we need to find out if he's coming and Bitty too.” Tonto continued to rattle off things, the master in planning things like this, while I took notes, her able apprentice at work.

“I've got all of that under control except Bitty. I'm not calling her. You want to work out arrangements, that's fine, but I'm not getting involved,” I said firmly. I wasn't about to soften my heart for her, of all people.

Tonto looked at me and I braced myself for her firestorm, but she just continued to look at me, contemplative. “I'll have Nick let her know,” she said simply. It was refreshing to know that I wasn't the only one who'd given up on her. It was refreshing to have a member of my family in my corner.

We ran through the checklist of things to do. Where would the wake be held, and when? Who should we notify that we hadn't talked to yet? I scanned my mind, trying to think of whom I'd forgotten. Sam. No one had called Sam. Sam and Billy had been tight. I wondered if Sam leaving had been one of the things that had kind of unhinged Billy? I'd never thought about that. None of us had even stopped to consider how Billy must have felt; losing the parent that had always had time for him, always doted on him.

“Tonto, you sit here and try and think of more things we need to do. I need to call Sam.” Her eyes opened wide, feeling bad for forgetting him just as I had. His phone only rang three times before he answered it. “Hey Sam, it's Brad,” I said.

“Wow. Brad. It's great to hear from you, but I'm kind of surprised,” he said cautiously.

“Well, I'd like to tell you that I'm calling to check in as I promised to do when you moved out, but I'm not,” I said somberly. He said nothing. “Billy was killed in a car accident last night.”

There was silence on the other end, silence for the longest time. I heard his sobs as he grappled with this. “Sam?” I asked. “Sam?”

“I'm here,” he said with a broken voice.

“I don't know if you have plans, but it would be really nice to see you. Would you be willing to join us for dinner tonight?” He said nothing. “Stef and Greg are visiting, and I know they'd love to see you too.”

“What about your father,” he asked, unable to hide his bitterness.

“Roger moved in,” I told him reluctantly. More silence. “He seems really happy Sam. I don't know if you want to deal with that or not, with seeing him with Roger.”

Finally he spoke, clearly and crisply. “No Brad, I have no problem with that. I need to say a few things to him anyway.” Oh wonderful. Yet more drama. “I'll do my best to make it,” he said, and we hung up.

I went back to the kitchen to find Tonto. “Guess who’s coming to dinner,” I told her with a slight grin. “Shall I tell JP?”

Tonto matched my expression. “Let's make it a surprise. Things will work out better that way if there's not a lot of time to think about it.”

I followed Tonto into the study to meet with my parents. I looked at the clock. It was 6pm. I wondered if and when Sam would get here.

“What are you doing here Bradley?” my mother asked coolly.

“Well, I'm a little old to be planning this sort of thing all alone, so he's been helping me out, working his ass off,” Tonto said, glaring at her and shutting her up.

I smiled inwardly as I watched my mother beat a hasty retreat in the face of Tonto's wrath. “Of course,” she said, regaining her poise. “How nice of you to help Tonto out,” she said to me.

“He was my brother,” I told her simply. We looked at each other, the ice melting slightly, the recognition on her face that I felt bad about his death, and that deep down, I did care about him.

“When you are done harassing my apprentice,” Tonto said, crotchety as usual, “I'd like to go through the arrangements.”

“Please show us your magic,” JP said, talking for the first time, and getting us on track. We worked until dinner, getting their approval on the outline and the dates and most of the details. I was really impressed with how Tonto handled this. She'd gotten things so organized that we'd really only have to have this one discussion with them, and then we'd be able to set up everything without meeting again.

Dinnertime, I thought, as the grandfather clock boomed out seven gongs. I was disappointed that Sam wasn't here, but bucked it up and headed to the table. There, after a day of miserable mourning, sat the whole family. Stefan and Greg, Robbie, Ace, Mouse, Claire, Jack, and Cass, my parents, Roger, and Tonto. And there was one chair that was conspicuously empty.

“Was this some kind of dramatic gesture to accentuate Billy's absence?” my mother asked, very irritated.

I looked at her calmly. “It is not. We were expecting another guest.”

“Really? Whom?” she asked rudely.

“I don't recall requiring your approval to invite guests to dinner, at least since you decided to abandon us,” I told her just as rudely.

“It would be nice to have a pleasant dinner without bickering. Bradley, your imaginary friend can stay. Can we eat now?” JP said, smoothing things over. My mother and I glared at each other, biting our tongues, when the doorbell gonged out.

“I'll get it,” I said mysteriously. I went to the front door, opened it, and there was Sam, looking great, as good as he always did. He came in and gave me a big hug, a long hug. I felt his tears on my shoulder.

“Is this OK, me being here?” he asked me as if he were one of my classmates, nervous about crashing a party.

“You belong here,” I told him, and guided him into the dining room. I took my eyes off of the collective faces to give my mother a smarmy “look who I invited” glance.

JP saw Sam and stood up impulsively. I looked at Roger. He looked worried, insecure. The poor guy probably thought that Sam being here was the prequel to him and JP getting back together. I tried to give him a reassuring gesture.

“I hope you don't mind me just coming over,” Sam said nervously.

“Nonsense,” JP said, and stepped forward, giving him a huge hug. “You are part of our family, and you meant the world to Billy. Having you around is very comforting.” It was stilted, but JP was doing his best. Dinner degenerated from there as everyone jumped up to welcome Sam back into our midst.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned to find my mother. “I'm sorry Bradley. That was a nice thing to do.”

I forced an affectionate look. “It's OK, Mother. This is tough on everyone. How about if we both try to be a little more tolerant of each other?” I figured that's the best we could hope for at this point.

“That's a marvelous idea,” she said, and moved over to give Sam a hug.

Hunger won in the end and we all sat down and resumed eating. “I wonder if it would be OK for me to say something?” Sam asked, stopping all conversation.

“Of course Sam. The floor is yours,” Mother said smoothly.

“I just want to apologize to all of you for vanishing from your lives. This has been a tough time for me.” He paused, controlling his emotions. “JP, I love you. I have since we first met, and I always will, but we are not meant to be together. It's taken me this much time to come to terms with that. I'm so sorry for hurting you; that's something I never meant to do. But even as our relationship fell apart, we had our friendship that kept us together. I miss that. I miss having you in my life.” Tonto winked at me. She and Stef were in heaven, with a dramatic scene like this.

Sam gulped and went on. “I see you with Roger and I can tell how happy you are. Roger, you're a great guy. I've always liked you, and we've always been friends. I'm hoping that you two will believe me when I tell you how happy I am for you.” Roger got up, walked over to him, and they hugged, a massive, masculine bear hug. This was exactly what Roger had done with Stef and Greg, and now Sam was doing this for him. Pledging to support his relationship with JP and not to try to destroy it. Telling them both he's moving on emotionally. Talk about perfect karma.

“So now that you've blown us all off and moved out, and you're done molesting children, what's next?” Tonto asked.

“Who says I'm done molesting children?” Sam asked, teasing her. “And who are you?” he asked, flirting with Jack. We all laughed, the first time all day. “I'm moving.”

“Where are you going?” asked JP. The anxiety in his voice as he asked the question exposed his deep feelings for Sam. Hopefully for Roger they were feelings of friendship.

“I've taken a position at Washington University. I fit in great with the other faculty members, and I'll be close to my family.”

“Is that in Washington?” Roger asked.

“No. It was named for George Washington. It's in St. Louis. We call it 'Wash U' to distinguish it from the other 'Washingtons'” Sam said, friendly and openly.

“You are always welcome here,” JP said. “If you need a place to stay while you're moving, or when you come to visit, we'll make sure there's a room waiting for you.”

October 21, 1980

Rafael dropped me off at school. I'd thought about staying home and recovering from the emotional drama, but I'd missed enough school. Besides, I was anxious to see if my strategy, if my party, had changed things at all. I walked through the halls, armed with a new resolve and new courage.

People politely acknowledged me, perhaps not as enthusiastically as before, but certainly more friendly than they had last week. Still, pretty much everyone made a point to tell me they were sorry to hear about Billy. I made it to my first class to find Lark waiting for me, cheerful as usual.

“How you holding up B?” he asked.

“I'm doing well,” I said. “What about you?”

“I'm good. Real good. We need to go surfing sometime soon.” I looked at him, surprised. That was the first time he'd initiated something with me socially in a very long time. I knew that he wasn't doing it now just because I was no longer a pariah. I think that after Billy died, we all understood that you have to appreciate those around you, because they might be gone tomorrow.

“It's warmer in LA. Wanna double date?”

“What do you mean?” he asked, confused.

“Come down to Malibu, you and Karen, Robbie and I” He got a huge grin on his face.

“That would be totally bitchin'!” I didn't expect that he'd be that up for it. I don't know why I hadn't thought of that before. That was his issue. He'd be more than happy to do things with me as long as I included Karen. The rest of school went pretty much the same way. It was a bittersweet victory; it was almost like Billy died so I wouldn't be publicly scorned anymore. Robbie and I were scrupulously careful to avoid any public displays of affection, and it seemed to be paying off. People were treating us almost like “normal” people.

I got home and found Robbie in bed, naked and hard, waiting for me. He got really horny when he was in a good mood. “What?” I asked.

He pulled me in and totally dominated me, shoved me down and dove into my ass with his mouth, giving me the best fucking rim job I'd ever had. He followed that with his probing fingers, and then his hard cock, the sensations just set me free. Then, just as we were getting really torqued up, he pulled out and I returned the favor, copying his moves and bringing us off in one massive orgasm.

“OK hot stuff,” I said. “What was that all about?”

“You didn't enjoy it?” he asked.

“Answer the question asshole,” I teased.

“I'm back on the team.” I just stared at him. “I'm back on the team,” he repeated.

“They're letting a fag on the team? Do you have to blow them in the showers?” I teased.

“You don't appreciate my talents,” he said, pretending to sulk.

“I appreciate all of your talents,” I said, stroking his chest with my fingers. “I'm proud of you. That's a major achievement. What made the coach change his mind?”

“The team went to him, every single fucking player, and asked him to let me back on the team.” My eyes bulged. “He asked them if it bothered them, having a gay player on the team, and they said as long as I showered on my own, they were cool with it. So he tracked me down and gave me my job back.”

“I'm so proud of you, and I'm really proud of the team. Those guys are amazing, just amazing. I don't know what to do to make it up to them.”

“Maybe you can be the one who blows them all,” he teased.

“You tell me it's OK, and I'm on it,” I said, slutty as ever.

“If one of them hits on you, go for it. The football team is fair game,” he said.

“Are you kidding? Seriously?” I mean, I didn't really need anyone else but Robbie, but it was a fun fantasy.

“Yep. As long as it's OK for me too.”

“So the whole football team is fair game, huh? Well, if it happens it happens. But no fucking. That's something I only want to share with you.” He kissed me, enough to get me fired up again. “Besides,” I said, “it's not like we'll have any luck with them.”

He snaughed. “Speak for yourself. You can start trying tonight. They're coming over for the World Series. That's OK isn't it?”

“Hell yeah! That sounds like a blast!” I headed downstairs to make sure that Anna knew we were going to have hungry company that night. What a good wife I am, I thought, chuckling to myself.

I wondered how I'd feel if I found Robbie blowing one of the guys. I thought about it, thought about him with Englin or Ashburton, and found that I didn't feel mad; it turned me on like crazy. I was hard as a rock. I headed back to the bedroom and fucked him again.

The guys came over for the game before dinner, because it was in Philly and it started at 7:30pm Eastern Time, that meant it was 4:30pm in California. That didn't matter for us though. Anna just made dinner a more casual affair, buffet style, so we could grab food and go watch the game. The relaxed environment appealed to all of us, and both JP and my mother made a point to come in and spend some time with the guys, making them feel welcome.

I walked into the room, mid-game, and collapsed on a couch next to Cary Chase. He smiled at me and gave me a high five. “Brad told me that he's so happy you guys let me back on the team, he's gonna blow you all,” Robbie said, teasing me and freaking all of us out. Fucker.

“Fuck,” I said, feigning frustration. “I’d better go get my knee pads.” They all laughed and got back into the game. It was weird that I could be my most out, my gayest, with these guys. Still, I got a few interesting looks. One from Gary Englin, stud extraordinaire. One from Cary, sitting next to me. He was really cute, now that I could look at him and not be pissed at him. And biggest surprise of all was the one from Scott Seaton, the quarterback. I guess it's a cliché that the football quarterback would be the hottest guy in the whole fucking school, but cliché or not, it was true. This guy was almost as good looking as Jack, but with a masculine air that reeked of testosterone.

We had a good time, hanging out and yelling at the TV, and then getting somber, talking about Billy and some of the things he'd done. Most of them were funny or stupid, and made us laugh. Then we'd feel guilty for laughing and having fun, and focus on the game again. An interesting cycle. And Cary Chase's leg kept brushing against mine, making me hard as a rock. Thank God I wore a jockstrap. Finally, in this, the sixth game, the Philadelphia Phillies finally pulled it off and won the World Series. A couple of the guys got hammered, but they had rides home. I collapsed in bed with Robbie at the end of the day and smiled at him, really happy. It wasn't until I thought about Billy that the sadness came back. But I was focusing on him as I remembered him in his younger years, and that made his death seem farther in the past, and more removed.

It dawned on me that Doug wasn't there tonight. I wondered why not? I mean, he and Billy had been pretty damn close. Then I got a really evil thought. If the football team was fair game, and Doug was on the football team, did that mean I could blow him too? I thought about his unique smell, that tangy musk, and lay in bed with a raging hard on, feeling too guilty about how I'd gotten it to wake Robbie up.

October 23, 1980

All of us skipped school today, the day of Billy's wake. We were expected to stick around and greet guests and be good hosts and hostesses. Before any of that happened, Billy had to arrive. The Great Hall was set up, reorganized to look more like a chapel than anything else. The dining room table was loaded with finger food, and there were chairs set up all around the “public” rooms to provide seating. We'd claimed the television room and the pool area as places that we could go congregate with our friends, so there was an escape route for us if things got too intense.

I got a call from the gate that the hearse was here so I buzzed it through. “It's time,” I told everyone, and we all assembled out on the portico and watched as a Cadillac sedan lead the big Black Cadillac hearse up the drive. I swallowed hard. The mortuary guys, creepy as always, scurried around and got a coffin “dolly” in place. Robbie, JP, Roger, Mouse, Ace and I helped hoist the coffin on the dolly, somberly fighting the tears that were inevitable. We “carried” it in, which basically meant guiding it through the foyer and into the Great Hall. That did entail passing over a few steps, a little lifting for our troop, and then finally putting Billy's coffin in the place we'd prepared. They arranged the skirting to hide the cart, and then stood there and somberly opened the casket.

We all stared at Billy. I felt Robbie's arm wrap around me as I looked at the devastating sight, the brother that I had loved and then hated, dead in front of me. His skin looked wax-like and surreal, his blue eyes closed forever. I felt the tears flowing from my eyes, but guilt prevented me from staring at anyone else. The only positive thing is that the morticians managed to fix his nose so it didn't look broken. I felt myself getting queasy and weak on my feet, so I moved back to one of the chairs and collapsed, closing my eyes and putting my head in my hands.

Robbie was right there with me, his arm around me, and his words whispering calmly and reassuringly in my ear. I opened my eyes and looked at him and for just a millisecond I saw Billy. No big surprise, since they looked so much alike. He read my expression and I saw his feelings flash clearly; sadness that he was going to remind everyone of Billy because of the similarity in their appearances, and resentment that they did, that they didn't see him for the individual that he was. Then, just as with me, that expression passed.

“What?” he asked, looking at me.

“I love it when we talk by reading each other's minds,” I said. He winked at me. We spent the next hour, just the family, adjusting to Billy's presence in our house again, and preparing ourselves for our guests. Visitation was set to run from 11am to 9pm. It was going to be a long day.

“Claire and I have to leave now,” Robbie said. “You going to be alright?”

“I'll be fine,” I said, looking at my watch meaningfully. They were supposed to depart for the airport in four minutes.

“We'll make it,” he said, hugging me. Then he grabbed Claire and they were off to the airport, to pick up the rest of our extended family. I hustled off to make sure that their rooms would be ready. And to briefly wonder how JP would handle having Frank Hayes and Roger staying with him under the same roof.

The first visitors were friends of my mother and Tonto, nice ladies who came to pay their respects. They were easy. I stood with Ace and we just tried to look handsome and be polite. My mother and Tonto were absorbed with them, while JP kept glancing at the clock on the wall. We'd all be doing a lot of that. I shook lots of hands and accepted countless condolences, condolences I didn't deserve.

Stef was next to me, his arm on my shoulder. “You have done so well Bradley. You never cease to make me proud of you.”

“I don't feel so good, staring at my dead brother and knowing that he died hating me,” I said bitterly.

“I know you both well. You are young and impulsive, and Billy was even more so. In a short period of time you two would have found a way to forgive each other. Brothers fight. It was bad luck that this happened at all, but even worse luck that it happened when you had unresolved issues.” He squeezed my shoulder. “You must not let the guilt overwhelm you. If it were you in the coffin and Billy standing here, would you have wanted him to feel this way, guilty?”

“No,” I said lamely.

“Then honor his memory by forgiving him, and knowing that he forgives you.”

If only it were that easy. Fortunately I didn't have to argue with him. The limo had arrived from the airport with the travelers from Claremont.

Grand and Grandmaman were the first two through the door, followed closely by Jim and Donna, JP's brother and sister-in-law. It was amazing to look at Jim so close to Grand. Jim looked like a younger version of him. And then, behind them, was my cousin Rich. At 21 years of age, Rich completed the vignette, looking like a younger version of Jim. Three generations, but I could just as easily have been viewing a picture showing Grand at different stages in his life. Behind them was Vanessa, Rich's sister, glued to Claire. Vanessa was 18, almost three years older than Claire, but they got along really well. I smiled when I thought about Bitty. Vanessa didn't like her either, so whenever we'd all been together she'd ignored Bitty and spent her time with Claire. I saw Claire introduce them all to Jack, and Vanessa raised her eyes, impressed. Who wouldn't be? Jack was cute and charming, the total package.

And then, behind them, was Robbie with Frank. Robbie was beaming, enjoying being with his father. I watched him feel happy, then realize what was going on and assume his somber expression, and then get happy all over again, just because Frank was here.

After school was over, more of our crowd showed up. Friends were there, the football team came to show their loyalty, as did the coach. That was interesting, watching this guy that had dared to piss off JP, in his house trying to be his best friend. Mrs. Marsden, my English teacher, and Ms Marsh both showed up. Ms Marsh is pretty hot, but Rich is a total wolf. I watched him make the moves on her, and watched her deal with him like a pro. Even Mr. Selvidge made an appearance, probably wondering if he could talk JP out of thrashing the district with the lawsuit Gordie was threatening.

Doug was there this time. I walked up to him and he gave me a big hug. “Hey there,” I said. “Not the smartest thing to do, hugging me in public,” I teased.

“I can't help it. You feel so good,” he whispered, almost making me giggle.

“So where were you the other night?”

“I was feeling kind of shitty. Just about Billy and this whole thing.”

“Why would you feel bad?” I asked.

He swallowed. “He blew me off to hang out with those assholes that he was in the car with and I got pissed at him. We had some words.” He looked around nervously.

“Walk with me,” I said, and led him down the hall. Not to my room, because there was a chance Robbie or even Frank might come breezing in, but one of the service rooms in the hallway. They were big enough for two or three people, and stuffed with linens. I pulled him into the room and locked the door.

I pulled him to me, his lips on mine, that same fervent desire that I remembered, that same skill he had with his lips. “What about Robbie?” he asked, panting.

“The football team is so cool I'm allowed to blow them. You still on the team?” I asked with a leer.

He undid his zipper and dropped his pants, smiling. “I am.” I dropped to my knees, his hard dick flopping in front of me. I took him in my mouth, deep-throating him as much as I could, burying my nose in his pubes and inhaling that intoxicating smell of his. We didn't have much time, so I worked him pretty intently. I heard a stifled moan and then he rewarded me by blasting his load in my mouth.

He pulled up his pants and gave me another kiss. “Next time it's my turn to reciprocate,” he said.

“Oh yeah, what makes you think there's going to be a next time?” I asked, flirting. He just raised an eyebrow, opened the door and we rejoined the wake.

October 24, 1980

The massive organ pipes blared out, practically shaking the Stanford Memorial Church. The church itself was packed, packed with Billy's friends who had come to say goodbye, packed with family friends there to offer support, and packed with others who came to see the spectacle. We were in the front row, duly dressed in black as was appropriate. The last week had been an emotional nightmare. As I stared at Billy's casket, I couldn't help feeling relieved that after this ceremony and the reception at Escorial, it would finally be over.

I looked over at my parents, trying to remain stoic and strong. My mother had breezed back into our lives expecting that her anger was the only anger. Expecting that she could transfer her ill-will to me and that everyone else would share her ire. Instead, she'd found herself isolated from all of us. She'd picked Ace as the one that she tried to buddy up with, but he really had limited use for her. He leaned on Cass. If anything, this event had brought them closer. The same with all of us. So she stood there very much alone, having deserted us, and now finding that when she needed us, we weren't there.

Which wasn't really true. Any one of us would have been willing to embrace her, to welcome her back. But the issue was one of pride, and fault. We weren't willing to grovel, or put up with her occasional taunts designed to make us feel guilty. In our minds, she'd erred; she was the one who owed us the apology. In her mind, we'd betrayed Billy and ultimately caused his death. She'd planned to move back home, I could tell, but she'd put it off, sensing that she really wasn't welcome there. For someone who was renowned for her grace and charm, she'd found herself iced out.

The organ grew quiet and there was another ridiculous prayer, put in for posterity, and then a brief choral number. One final prayer and the thing was over. The pall bearers, all football teammates of Billy, lifted the coffin and put it on its cart, and then ceremoniously rolled it out to the hearse. The hearse would take it to the airport, and then tomorrow a small group would fly back to Claremont with Billy and bury him in the family plot. I wasn't one of the group. That would be my parents and grandparents and Tonto. I had no desire to return to Claremont, and neither did Robbie.

Robbie. There should be a picture of him next to the word “awesome” in the dictionary. He had been there for me every step of the way, tolerated my moods, shrugged it off when I told him that I'd fucked Mouse, and found that perfect balance of paying just the right amount of attention to me without smothering me. Frank being here had been a great reward for him, to be able to spend some time with his father. They were really great together. I felt a twinge of guilt for blowing Doug but fought it down. I had followed the rules.

I followed the mourners out in the prescribed order, the order I'd laid out, to the limousines that I'd booked to take us back to Escorial. There the caterers would have a luncheon spread out, and we'd make ourselves ready to entertain the masses of people here in the chapel and go through this morbid grieving routine one more time.

I looked up to find my mother standing right in front of me, blocking my way, and screwing up my whole program. She linked her arm in mine, her cool touch penetrating my suit jacket. “Bradley, you did a wonderful job. Everything was so perfect. Thank you.” And she smiled at me. That's the first time she'd smiled at me since, well, since she moved out.

It was easy to be mad at her, to blame her for everything, but that only lasted as long as she was being an ice queen. Now that she allowed herself to melt a little bit, to show me some of that love that I longed for, I could not maintain my anger. “I'm glad you were pleased. I hope it was what Billy would have wanted.”

“The pallbearers, that would have been the only thing that would have been important to him. If it weren't for you, they wouldn't have been here.”

“Thanks, Mom.” There was so much I wanted to say to her. To tell her that I loved her, that I needed her, that I forgave her for deserting me for Billy. Instead, I felt my eyes tear up, and that just pissed me off. She patted my arm. “Um, do you think we could try going to lunch again sometime?” I asked.

She stopped, right there in the middle of the procession, and gave me a big hug. I found that once I started hugging her, I couldn't let her go. I couldn't stop the tears. She finally broke the embrace and guided me into the limo. “I would like that very much,” she said, “but let us pick a better restaurant.” The healing, our healing, had begun.

We got back to Escorial and began the onerous job of entertaining people while trying to deal with our own grief. Still, having broken the ice with my mother, having had that exchange, somehow that made things so much easier. The next to arrive were the pallbearers, those big hulking football players that had been flattered to do this final service for Billy. They walked up to me, with Gary Englin in the lead.

“Thanks guys. That was really special. It's just what Billy would have wanted.” I held out my hand to shake but he hugged me instead. He actually hugged me, full body contact. And so did the next one, and the next one, and the next one. All of them. I just stood there, stunned. They had deigned to touch a fag, to hug a fag.

I wandered around the party and found more of the same. Some of these same people who had been snickering at me behind my back were now being supportive, effusive in their affection, in their desire to ease my pain, and their own. I found myself walking in a fog, trying desperately not to cry. It was a strange feeling, I felt like a ship adrift in a room where I just went from person to person, bumping into them briefly and then moving on with the current.

I stopped to chat with Jack's parents. The Hobarts seemed like really nice people. His father was a hard-charging businessman, while his mother was a social beast like my mother and Tonto. She had a class and a grace reminiscent of theirs, terribly unlike Doug's mom. Mrs. Childers had a hard time in that crowd. She was one of those people who were so set on social climbing she forgot the poise and manners that went with it. I saw Mrs. Hobart politely but firmly extract herself from a conversation with Mrs. Childers and head in my direction.

“What a lovely job you did Bradley. Your mother told me you arranged everything.”

“Thank you Mrs. Hobart. And thanks for sharing your son with us. He's a great guy.”

“I think that has more to do with your sister than any permission on my part,” she said cheerfully. “But Claire is a lovely girl. We're happy he found someone like her.” She moved off to gab and I found myself alone with Stef. We really hadn't had much time together.

“These receptions can be a little too much at times,” he said.

“Would you like to take a break?” I asked. I took him up the stairs to the Studio and led him inside. There, in front of us, were Dan and Mouse in a passionate embrace, naked from the waist down.

“Do not stop on our account,” Stef said and I laughed. Dan turned a bit and I got a look at his hard dick, the one I'd only felt through his pants. It was really cool. It was about six inches long, probably average thickness, but with this sexy upward curve to it. They pulled up their pants and scurried down to Mouse's room while we laughed at them.

“This is the painting I made for Billy,” I told him. I actually made it for me, but it was still Billy. I had used a huge canvas, five by eight feet, and had devoted all of my spare time to work on it. There was still a lot to do. It was part abstract, part realistic, with Billy represented as clearly as possible, or as clearly as my skills could do it.

“This is marvelous Brad. You have such talent. What is this roughage on here? It looks like shards of glass. And metal scraps? It is very unique.”

“Those are pieces of the wreckage from Billy's accident,” I said, running my hand gently across them. We went back to the reception and socialized until I was thoroughly exhausted. I looked over at my mother and caught her eye. She smiled at me and headed over.

“I think people are finally leaving. I am so tired of alternately smiling and then looking sad,” she said.

I looked at my watch. “It ends in 67 minutes,” I said, joking about my anal-retentive attention to schedules.

“Well, then in 68 minutes I would like to see this painting that Stefan was raving about.” She gave me a kiss on the cheek and we began to clear people out. That wasn't as easy as you'd think, because you had to find people who were intuitive enough to sense that it was time to end the party, and hope that the others would follow. Then there were those who had decided that they were such good friends that it would be appropriate for them to stay on after. Finally, the last stragglers headed out, and we were left, just us, our family.

I escorted my mother and father up to the Studio. I smiled to myself, wondering if Mouse would be up there with his pants down again. I was almost disappointed that he wasn't. It would have been a good laugh.

They stood next to me on either side, flanking me, gazing at my creation. “It's about seventy five percent finished,” I said.

My mother got tears in her eyes and my father swallowed hard. She ran her hands over the portrait of Jeff I'd done in the right section. “It is really wonderful Brad. I hope that when you are done with it you will let us display it in the Great Hall.”

I stared at her. I mean, I painted lots of shit, and it ended up around the house, but never in our Great Hall. That's where they put the really good stuff, the pieces that were good enough to be insured. “I agree,” JP said.

“You are moving back?” I asked.

“If I am still welcome,” she said, looking at JP, and then at me.

“It has been lonely, empty around here without you,” he said, and held his hands out to her. She took them tentatively at first, then firmly, and he gently guided her to him, into an affectionate hug. I felt like I was privy to a really special scene, the kind of intimate moment that rarely happens. It was a privilege. Then they absorbed me into their hug. It was a really wonderful feeling.

“What are these rough pieces?” she asked me, breaking off a much-too-emotional embrace.

“Those are debris from the accident. I went up and got them after the crash.” She ran her hand across them, and pulled back abruptly. One of the shards had cut her, and her finger was bleeding, first on the painting, and then on the floor.

“I'm sorry,” I said, handing her a towel.

“I have ruined it!” she said, alarmed.

I took a brush and worked her blood into the background. “No, you made it that much more special.”