David Gates - The Wonders of the Invisible World

“I hate them.”

“Why do you hate them?”

Shrug.

“But you like listening to them.”

Not even a shrug.

They get back in the car and Billy heads for the Howard Johnson’s just off the 787 ramp; he didn’t have time to fix breakfast before they left the house. He stops and buys Sunday papers: the Times for himself and the Times Union because Deke likes the funnies. The greeter girl — pretty, seemingly too young — leads them to an empty booth. Billy guesses that with his Diamond Dogs cap and nylon bomber jacket he can pass for a divorced dad with weekend custody. If that’s his beau ideal.

Mostly he avoids taking Deke to restaurants, not because of the catamite issue but because the two of them look so alone in the world. The only person either of them has left is Cassie. Well, Deke does have another grandmother: Vic’s mother, who lives in Provo, Utah. But the extent of her involvement is a hundred-dollar check every Christmas and a card signed Mammaw, the alias she devised for herself since Cassie’s mother already had Grandma. Billy should probably make overtures: call every week or two, put Deke on. If only for practical reasons. Suppose he had a head-on crash coming home from work: Mrs. Bishop would take Deke that night, but then what?

Deke orders oatmeal and bacon; Billy has oatmeal and a half grapefruit. He cuts a section free, spears it with his fork and holds it out to Deke.

“No way.”

“No, thank you. ” Because if he’s doing this, he’s damn well going to do it right.

“Oh, yeah,” Deke says.

Billy’s been sneaking looks at the entertainment listings in the Times Union. This is already shaping up as a long day, but the movies look either inappropriate or unbearable, and mostly both. “Aha,” he says. “Looks like they’re having a young people’s concert.”

“What’s that?”

“You know, a big concert that’s geared to kids? Somebody usually comes out and talks about the instruments and whatnot. They must have those in Boston, right?” Which Billy flatters himself is a neutral way of asking.

“I don’t know.” Deke clamps his teeth on a piece of bacon and tugs it back and forth.

“Sound like something you’d be up for? Oh. Cool. They’re doing The Planets today. That’s this piece of music where each part is about a different planet. You want to check it out?”

“No, thank you,” Deke says, chewing.

“Hmm. Looks like pretty slim pickings otherwise. Our alternative would be just to go home and hang out.”

Deke crams the rest of the bacon into his mouth and nods.

On the way home they stop at the video place and return Top Hat, whose plot Deke hadn’t been able to follow, and take out Star Trek IV, the whale one. Billy steals a glance over the top of the louvered doors into the back room, where all the covers have bodies with the same shade of tan. He happens to know they stock a few gay videos, in a section called ALTERNATIVE LIFESTYLES.But this will have to be a distant good.

They spend most of the afternoon playing Candyland, during which Billy gets to listen to Tatiana Nikolayeva’s Shostakovich preludes and fugues. God knows what this Shostakovich obsession is about; anyhow, it’ll run its course. He hits the Cherry Pits again and again, and Deke wins three straight games. During the fourth game, Billy starts feeling cooped up — which couldn’t have to do with losing at Candyland — and they go out in the yard and toss the little rubber football around. Most of his throws bounce off of Deke, and Deke’s return throws either fall short or go wide. But Billy says “Good arm” and “ That’ s the way” whenever it’s remotely applicable. Then they go back in — Billy checks the answering machine: nothing — and watch Star Trek IV. Deke doesn’t follow this one either, but at least it’s in color and feels contemporary. The first week Deke was here, Billy rented a compilation of ’30s farm-animal cartoons: pecking chickens making typewriter sounds, that sort of thing. When he was little he used to love this stuff. After a couple of minutes Deke said, “Do we have to watch this?” What was bizarre was that Billy instantly saw how crude and depressing it was.

Since they had a late breakfast instead of lunch, Billy calls Domino’s and has them deliver a pizza around five. Afterward he gets Deke into the tub and starts straightening up. The actual vacuuming he puts off until Deke’s in bed; it’s the chore that seems the most housewifely, that he most dislikes being seen at. He still uses his mother’s old Hamilton Beach, a low gray cigar-blimp on casters that whines like a jet engine.

Into p.j.’s, brush teeth. Dry his hair. While he’s picking out his bedtime books, make sure all his stuff’s in his backpack for school tomorrow. And that’s the weekend.

On Monday morning, Billy’s on the phone with some technophobe who’s whining that Windows is defective because when he tries to drag and drop icons on his desktop they won’t stay put. “Okay, go to your STARTbutton,” he says, and his other line lights up. “Sorry, could you hold just a second?” Dennis, perhaps, at long last? He hits HOLD,then 4427.

“Billy?” Cassie. “Listen, I’m in Albany. Can you meet me for lunch?”

“You what? Look, can you hold? Let me get rid of this call.” He hits HOLD,then the blinking 4426, and tells the technophobe “a small emergency” has come up and he’ll transfer him to somebody who can help him out. He hits the blinking 4427.

“Cassie?”

“None other.”

“What’s going on?” Crap: he forgot to transfer the guy. “Why aren’t you—”

“They let me have a whaddya-call-it. I have to be back by six-thirty. Poor Billy — I scared the hell out of you, didn’t I? So can we have lunch? There’s something I really need to ask you and it’s, sort of, not for the telephone. Shit, I’m making this sound heavy and it’s really not.”

“Jesus, I wish you’d — sure. Yeah. I mean I’d love to see you.”

“I’ll bet. But really, I’m a lot, lot better. I promise you, this is not going to be painful.”

“I’m just surprised is all. If you’d—”

“I know, I know. Like, how can they let her out if she’s going to go right back to her impulsive behavior?” Billy hears her sigh. “It’s not like that, believe me.”

“So where did you want to meet?”

“Doesn’t matter. Actually, you know where I’d like to go? Now, this is crazy. That HoJo’s where we used to go with Mom and Dad.”

“That’s bizarre,” Billy says.

“How so?”

“Because I just — you know, took Deke there.”

“Oh.” Silence. “So. How is he?”

“He’s good.”

“Are you judging me for not asking about him first thing? I can tell you are. Shit. See, I knew that was a mistake. I didn’t want to seem like I was pushing, but I can see how you might think, you know, that I was, like—”

“Don’t tie yourself up in knots. I’m not judging you, and Deke’s doing fine.”

“I.e., better than with me.”

“Well. Better than back then. ”

“Oh,” she says. “Tough love.”

“You asked. I mean, don’t you think so?”

“No, you’re right,” she says. “See? I’m learning.” She sighs again. “But you’re not impressed.”

“Can we save this?”

“That’s the question, isn’t it? But you mean for over lunch. Save the bullshit for over lunch. Because you’re busy at work. Don’t worry, Billy, I’ll be good. Now, what time?”

“What’s good for you?”