Page 60 of Exquisite Things

I try to stop Oliver from telling Tobi our secrets. But Oliver is resolute. “You’ve made decisions for us in the past without

my consultation. Now it’s my turn. Do you want to know our story, Tobi?”

Tobi nods. “I do. I really do.”

Oliver takes Tobi’s hand in his. “Good. Because I’m tired of living in the shadows. Always hiding my true self. Bram, you

can join us. Or you can leave. It’s up to you. But I think Tobi here deserves the whole truth. Was Lily your mother, Tobi?”

Tobi’s eyes well up at the mention of Lily. “She took me in during my transition. Helped me find the right doctors.”

Oliver smiles. “I’m happy to hear that. You realize that makes us brothers.”

Tobi lets out a sad, raspy laugh. “Brothers. Sure.” He sharpens his words. He needs answers. “Why did you both disappear?

Why are you still so young? What is all this?”

Oliver speaks quickly. Breathlessly. “ This begins a long time ago. Come to think of it, this begins before even I was born. In the nineteenth century.”

“The nineteenth century?” Tobi throws his hands up into the air. “The fuck!”

“The fuck is right.” I can’t help but laugh. I can feel Lily’s spirit in Tobi. “I suppose I should begin, since it starts with me. Why don’t we walk toward where it all happened? Claridge’s.”

“The posh hotel in Mayfair?” Tobi seems confused by this.

“That’s the one. Shall we walk?”

And so we stroll. Three brothers. Secrets revealed. Lives relived. I tell Tobi about my mother who died when I was born. My

father, who hated me for it. James at the St. James. My desperate wish to be alive in a time and place where I could love

freely. Oliver tells Tobi of his mother’s love. His cousin Brendan. Harvard. The Golden Rooster. A whole lost world that did

more than exist. A world that was alive .

And then: London.

Our golden years.

That time when we were happy.

For a time.

We tell him everything as we near Mayfair. Lily. Maud. Tuesdays at the Blitz. Brixton. Pearl’s shebeen. The uprising. Heaven.

Hell. Jack. Our escape.

We enter Claridge’s. We ride up the elevator next to an old man holding a cane. The lines on his face tell a story. I don’t

know its details yet. But I see the pain. The love. The regrets. He holds the elevator door open for us with his cane.

I’m reminded of Jack’s cane. The blade he threatened Archie with. Jack died not long after we escaped him in Heaven. Heart

attack. Full-page obituary in the New York Times .

Gushing praise for his leadership of the pharmaceutical company his father started.

Quotes from global leaders about the lives saved by Whitman & Whitman’s medicines.

No mention of his experiments to cure homosexuality.

His children took over after his death. Under their leadership, Whitman & Whitman has only grown more powerful.

Curing hair loss. Erectile dysfunction. Injections to stop wrinkles and to fill sagging skin.

Collagen and silicone. Opioids. Lawsuits.

The eternal dance of industry. In interviews, the Whitman heirs have promised to find the code to eternal youth “any day now.” But that day hasn’t come.

Yet. Despite their best efforts. Jack kept his promise in death.

His children have tried to find us. I’ve been followed by unmarked cars in Lagos and in Bangkok.

Narrowly escaped both times. We’ve been running

away from them for over forty years now.

Jack wasn’t the serial killer preying on London boys. The killer, Dennis Nilsen, was arrested in 1983. And Jack didn’t have

anything to do with AIDS, though his children do distribute HIV medicines. Perhaps if the police had cared about queers, Dennis

Nilsen wouldn’t have killed so many boys before he was caught. Perhaps if governments cared about queers, HIV could have been

contained before it spread. But we don’t live in that world. We live in a world where history seems to crash into itself at

every moment. A world where viruses and violence and love and community all coexist and always will.

“This is where it all started.” I stare at the fireplace. There are logs inside. I light it. The flames seem to bring me back.

Over a hundred years erased by the blaze.

My father’s voice. That’s where filth belongs. That’s where you belong.

My voice. You belong in hell!

My father’s voice. I already am in hell.

Tobi seems just as riveted by the flames as I am. He seems to see something in them. A new future. Eternal youth. The chance to live in a time where he can do more than exist. Where he can live free.

“I want everything you once wanted. I know there’s better times ahead. I’m so exhausted by the... the hate. The lack of

understanding. If it wasn’t for Lily...”

I speak gently. “It was worse for her. Lily and Poppy had to travel to Casablanca for their surgeries. Couldn’t find a doctor

in the NHS to help them. They were put through hell at the one gender identity clinic they found on Charing Cross.”

Tobi nods. “I know. Lily didn’t like boo-hoo backstories, but as she got older, the stories couldn’t help but come out. There

were nights she would ask me to stay in her bedroom with her. She was in pain by the end. The medicine she had to take seemed

to transport her to the past. I know what she went through to live her life. I know what Archie was subjected to. The conversion

clinic. The shock therapy. They almost lobotomized him before he escaped. She told me everything.”

“But she didn’t tell you about us?”

Tobi’s eyes blink in surprise. “Lily knew about you?”

Oliver nods. “Lily. Archie. Maud. And an old friend of ours from Boston. Those are the only people who knew our secret.”

The fire dies down. I grab the stoker and shift the wood. I use the iron rod to stoke the flames into wildness once more.

Oliver pulls out the single remaining page we have from the original Wilde manuscript of The Picture of Dorian Gray . Hands it to Tobi. “It’s yours.”

Tobi’s hands tremble as he grips the deteriorated paper. “This is—”

“The last page we have left.” Oliver puts a hand on Tobi’s shoulder. “Before you burn it, you should know that Lily, Archie, and Maud all had the chance.”

“Lily could— She could still be alive?”

“If that’s what she wanted.”

Tobi holds the paper to his chest. Breathes in the particular scent of aged paper. I can feel Lily’s presence. She’s with

us. She’s telling me to stop Tobi before it’s too late. She’s telling me she’s in a better place. That she wants Tobi to join

her someday. Wants me and Oliver to join her too.