Page 101 of The Holy Grail

Putting the ‘fun’ in funeral

Malcom probably shouldn’t have been shocked to see so many people in the church for the funeral, but he was. It seemed like every lawyer in the state had come to pay their respects to Monroe, and they all seemed to have gotten their suits at the same place.

It was a sea of black.

Martin’s wife, Isabel, and their two daughters, Rachael and Chelsea, were there and met Jules and Evan for the first time.

It was obvious, when making introductions, that Martin didn’t know anything about Jules, therefore Monroe must not have ever mentioned her, even in passing, indicating he didn’t talk much about Malcom with Martin.

Malcom made the suggestion to wait until after the funeral to inform Martin of the relationship with Jules and Evan, mostly because of the timing, but also because telling Martin wasn’t a priority.

The service was long, with the priest rambling on for what seemed like an hour.

Malcom fidgeted the entire time, unable to stand being in the front pew, even with Beverly, Jules, and Evan with him.

The row behind them was occupied by Evangeline, Paige, and David, whose presence was appreciated, even if Malcom didn’t talk to them very much.

At the end of the service, everyone got to file past the open casket.

It was almost unnerving to see Monroe in a preserved state, and as Malcom was ‘viewing’ the body, he looked at the carefully made-up face and felt more than a hint of nausea.

He did take the time, however, to lean in and whisper, “You died before I could tell you to go fuck yourself, and that’s what I’m mourning today. ”

With no graveside service, the funeral attendees went straight to the reception afterward at Martin’s house, which was predictably grand, and large enough to accommodate several hundred people.

He’d hired caterers and waitstaff, plus had a fully stocked bar (which Malcom decided he was going to pay a visit to very shortly), and had arranged outdoor seating for possible overflow from the house.

Surrounded by high-priced lawyers, many of whom were colleagues, Martin was in his element, while Malcom was decidedly uncomfortable.

However, as one of Monroe’s sons, being sociable was expected.

It was a struggle, though, because not only was he not stricken with grief, it was actually upsetting to have everyone tell him what an amazing man Monroe was.

It was as if they were talking about a man Malcom had never met, when they said things like Monroe was ‘kind’, had a ‘wicked’ sense of humor, and he was ‘generous’, with both his time and money.

It started to really piss Malcom off that he’d never known that man.

After what seemed like the one hundredth person had extolled the virtues of the man who’d basically told his son being into men wasn’t an option, Malcom started to push back a little.

When one person commented on Monroe’s exemplary drive and dedication to the law, Malcom agreed, and after tilting his glass of scotch as if preparing to make a toast, replied, “He was so dedicated, our family trip to Disneyland got cancelled one year … and that same dedication kept us from ever going in the future.” Malcom then drained the glass before adding, “But our sacrifice was for the greater good, though, so …”

The person looked uncertain, not really knowing how to take that, because it was said neutrally, so Malcom continued doing this with other people, getting little digs in, when he could. It made the afternoon bearable.

When he reached the point where he couldn’t take another condolence from someone Malcom would never (hopefully) see again, he escaped to the library, which was basically a glorified den with a short stack of law books on the desk, making the ‘library’ classification a pretty big stretch.

As he paced around the room, he found himself engaging in a little impromptu verbal journaling, keeping his voice low to prevent anyone who might walk by in the hallway on their way to the bathroom, from hearing him through the door.

He had just settled into a pretty good groove, when the door opened, and Jules and Evan stepped into the room .

For a moment, Malcom could only admire Evan in his new suit, and Jules in her black cashmere dress, with her hair pulled back into a low ponytail.

“We’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Evan said, closing the door with a click. “This house is stupid big.”

“The pantry is about as big as the one in the Overlook Hotel, from The Shining ,” Jules noted.

“You looked for me in the pantry?” Malcom asked.

“Yeah.” She shrugged. “We were on a mission.”

Evan walked over and took one of Malcom’s hands. “How are you doing?”

“I could use another drink, but other than that, I’m doing great,” Malcom replied.

Evan took in the signs of intoxication—the slightly glazed eyes, the semi-exaggerated speech, and being a tad unsteady on his feet—and asked, “How many have you had?”

“Drinks? Three and a half. The last one I set down somewhere and lost track of it, so that one probably shouldn’t even be counted.”

Jules hugged Malcom from behind, resting her cheek against one of his shoulders. “How long do we have to stay?” she asked him.

“Probably a little longer,” he muttered. “Did Paige and David leave?”

“Yes.”

“I wanted to thank them for coming.”

“I thanked them for you, so no worries. Same with Evangeline and your mom.”

“Thank you. And after some more people leave, we can get out of here.”

“Hopefully the bar runs dry soon then, because I think most people are hanging around for the premium booze,” Evan said.

Malcom pressed his forehead to Evan’s. “Do you ever miss your father?”

Evan’s answer was quick. “No.”

“Then I won’t, either. I mean, I won’t miss mine , because obviously I wouldn’t miss yours.”

“I knew what you meant.” Evan reached up with his free hand to smooth some of Malcom’s hair, then rested it on his cheek, before leaning in to press a kiss to his lips.

Malcom made a soft noise in the back of his throat and returned the kiss, his free arm going around Evan’s back.

So caught up in the warmth of Evan at his front and Jules at his back, Malcom was slow to register the door to the library opening, until his brother’s voice broke through the little cocoon.

“What … is this?” Martin wanted to know, from the doorway. “What’s going on? ”

Gently disengaging himself from Evan and Jules, Malcom slowly turned to look at Martin, whose expression was a combination of shock, disbelief, and distaste.

“The three of us are in a relationship,” Malcom said, surprising himself by answering with such candor.

“The three of you are in a relationship,” Martin repeated, stepping forward.

“Yes. It’s a three-way, committed relationship.”

Martin pointed at Jules, then Evan. “You’re with both of them?”

“Yes.” Malcom pointed at himself, Jules, then Evan. “One, two, three … that’s the ‘three’ part in the three-way relationship.”

Martin stepped closer. “How long has this been going on?”

“Well … Jules and I have been together for almost seven months, and Evan joined us about three months ago, give or take. So, this—” he broke off to indicate the three of them, “—has been going on for … three months.”

“Did Dad know about this?”

“Yes and no.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means he knew about Jules—”

“He did?”

“Yes. Then he found out about Evan, but he didn’t know the three of us were together.”

“You were obviously too ashamed to tell him that.”

“I wasn’t ashamed, so fuck off with that.

I was … apprehensive … because I knew he wouldn’t understand or accept it, and I had a feeling that would be the end of our relationship.

I was right, because when he saw me with Evan at a restaurant one night, Monroe told me he wouldn’t ‘stand for it’,” Malcom spit out, using exaggerated air quotes.

“And if I didn’t make the ‘right decision’, Monroe would no longer ‘recognize’ me as his son.

” The last set of air quotes got cut off by Evan, who gently put a stop to it.

“Why are you referring to Dad as ‘Monroe’?”

“Because I stripped him of his ‘Dad’ title.” When Martin sort of frowned at that, Malcom continued. “Anyway, I unfortunately never got the chance to tell Monroe to go fuck himself for what he said to me that night.”

Martin’s eyes widened in shock. “You were seriously going to tell Dad to go fuck himself? ”

“Yes. It was one of the things I was working on with Lauren. She’s so amazing, by the way.”

“Who’s Lauren?”

“My therapist. You should go see her. She could probably fix you, too.”

Ignoring the suggestion he should go to therapy and get ‘fixed’, Martin decided to focus on his brother being in therapy. “You’re seeing a therapist?”

“Yes, because when your father is a complete asshole , and his affection for you depends on whether or not you’re completely straight, it kind of fucks you up. Which is why I was going to tell him to go fuck himself. So, feel free to contest the will if you want.”

Martin actually looked a little hurt by that. “I would never do that. Jesus.”

“Well, I wouldn’t blame you if you did. Monroe probably would have cut me out had he lived, and I’d gotten the opportunity to tell him to go fuck himself.”

There was a long pause and then Martin came over and took Malcom’s arm. “Why don’t we go outside and talk in private?”

“Outside—” Malcom broke off as he was pulled out onto the little balcony attached to the library, which overlooked the side yard, instead of the guests in the back.

Once they were away from Evan and Jules, and the French doors had been closed, Malcom said to Martin, “Seriously, you can contest the will if you want—”

“Quit talking about the will, for Christ’s sake. I want to talk about this three-way relationship, instead.”

“It’s actually called a ‘triad’.”