Page 114 of String Boys

DROPPING SETHback at Bridgford and driving home was like ripping out his soul. Seth’s eyes were bright and shiny and red-rimmed as he got out of the car and warned Kelly soberly about driving safely. His voice—surprisingly husky anyway—was deep enough to rub on the ground. Maybe it was that look on his face, the quiet devastation there, that changed Kelly’s mind, made his determination waver.

Maybe it was the way Seth didn’t tell him again when he and Guthrie got into another fight at the Stomp in February, right before Valentine’s Day, his birthday, when Seth surprised him by taking the train to Sacramento and meeting him at his job with flowers.

Maybe it was how Seth had been working another gig—a chamber music gig with three women who had come to a performance and begged Seth to help them get their quartet off the ground by being a guest player—just so he could send money home to his dad, which ended up sending Lily and Lulu on their eighth-grade trip to Fort Bragg.

It didn’t matter, really, what it was. Kelly ended up giving in.

Seth graduated from Bridgford that June with Kelly and Craig in the audience. His graduation present from Craig and Kelly’s mom was a trip to Disneyland for the two of them—three days and three nights in Disneyland. Seth had known it was coming. He’d saved enough money to spoil the shit out of Kelly’s family, which was nice, and they got busy every night after the fireworks, which wasgreat.

But it couldn’t last, of course. After their vacation, Kelly helped him move straight to the dorms at the conservatory.

The trip to Italy was still on the table. The offer was a year of graduate school, playing with a symphony in Florence, and Kelly would be damned if Seth passed it up. But in the meantime, Seth had two years. Kelly had two years. They had two years to pray their life wouldn’t go to shit if Kelly went down to visit three weekends a month, staying in Seth’s single occupancy dorm room, learning to make love like it could happen regularly and not like it was Christmas for the body that only came along once every six months.

Maybe two years would do it. Maybe it would be enough. Maybe it would sate that hunger Kelly had inside for Seth’s touch, his smell—like bow rosin and the sweating wood of the instrument.

Maybe.

Maybe they could fill up on each other with regular visits so Seth wouldn’t be drained dry of Kelly and need somebody else by the time he was done with Italy.

Kelly would pray for that. He’d live for that. He’d hope for that. Because he wasn’t ready to walk away yet. Not in January, as he drove back from the best two weeks of his life, and not in June after Seth walked the stage.

And not that summer, when they found excuses, any excuses, to take the car or the train from the Bay and back and spend a night, or two, stretched out at Seth’s dorm, or on Seth’s bed at home, bodies touching, breath mingling, pretending they’d never have to part.

Matty got out of rehab in February.

In March, he got a job.

By the time Seth graduated from Bridgford and on to the conservatory, Matty was living in his own apartment—tiny, with a newly rehabbed Isela, and they were high on fucking religion again.

And neither of them was making any attempt to parent their daughter. They’d come see her, yes, hold her, coo over how big she was getting. They’d stay for dinner—which Linda cooked—and talk to the girls about religion and make sure Kelly knew he was still going to hell if he hadn’t renounced his homosexual ways. And then they’d leave without helping to clean up.

Chloe didn’t really know either of them. She’d rather talk to Seth on the phone, actually. In fact, Seth had taken to calling before her bedtime and playing children’s lullabies for her as she fell asleep.

When Matty held her on his lap, she frequently asked for “Set.”

Lily was the one who said, “Don’t mind her—it’s a cartoon character. It’s based on Egyptian mythology so, you know. Mummies. Egyptian gods. Sethmet, Osiris, Set—it’s fun.”

Kelly and Linda, who had been casually ignoring how she kept reaching for Kelly’s phone and saying, “Set! Set! Set!” had smiled and nodded, and Matty?

They weren’t sure whether he bought it or not.

Isela had stared at them with the simple gaze of a kitten and said that was nice, she’d have to watch it with her sometime. Lulu told her that Dora the Explorer was on instead, and conversation moved on.

But Matty—Matty looked at his daughter, puzzled, a sad little smile on his face, and Kelly actually felt a moment of sympathy for his brother.

This hadn’t been how they’d thought of having kids.

Kelly knew that when he and Seth talked about family, they talked about one like Kelly had—or even like Seth and his dad. They talked about laughter and warmth and knowing what your kid watched on television.

But as Matty held out his arms for Chloe to toddle into, he had the realization in his eyes—this wasn’t how he’d wanted his life to be.

Kelly could almost forgive him.

Almost.

One Friday night in early September, after Kelly and Linda had, with Craig’s help, dealt with back-to-school nights and soccer practices and, oh my God, the girls’ homework, Kelly threw his backpack over his shoulder, kissed his mom on the cheek, and shook Craig’s hand as he sat on the couch with Chloe in his lap and Agnes asleep against his shoulder. Craig had given Kelly a book to bring to Seth over the weekend—some science fiction thing that they both liked—and Kelly was glad to do it.

He hit the landing and rattled down the stairs, pulling in a sharp breath when he almost ran into Matty, leaning against the wall of the fourplex, finishing off a cigarette.