Beau, Lee, The Bomb Page 15

  So I get up. Leonie is still sleeping, as is Oscar. The Bomb jumps off the bed and yawns and wags and bows to me in a big stretch. I bow to her too. Do a couple of toe touches. Not as hard as it was! I do a few more. Like I said, I think running away is making me springy.

  I wander out to where I smell coffee. Beau and Frankie are sitting at the cluttered table in the cluttered kitchen with the picture of baby Beau and Gina Madonna, which they have taken out of the book and put in a big old ziplock bag.

  They are going on an errand, just the two of them, which I think is a great idea.

  “Good morning, sleepyhead.” Uncle Frank pours me some coffee and hands me cream.

  Yummy. Their coffee is as good as Seattle’s. I feel my batteries charging.

  “So whatcha doing today?” I stand at the window, which has a small but amazing view.

  “Well! I think after the picture extravaganza, we will go get some lunch and then maybe walk up the Coit Tower and look at the city. Then we will come home and I will soak in an Epsom salt bath for three or four days and try to recover.”

  I crack up.

  “Cool! Then in that case I think I will ask Leonie and The Bomb out for a walk. I want to walk the Embarcadero and maybe check out Chinatown if there is time.”

  “Sounds like you have a plan. If you need a map, ask Oscar. He can set you up on the computer or just draw you one on a piece of paper, how to get wherever from the apartment. If you can wait that long. I don’t know when he’ll be up. Poor thing couldn’t sleep last night.”

  Which I know. We sat up till past three a.m.

  “Just be careful if you are out after it gets dark, which is like four thirty in the afternoon, because some neighborhoods get pretty scary at night, okay?”

  “We won’t be out that late,” I tell him. I figure we’ll walk and eat and then come see if Oscar is awake. I don’t want him to feel like he is babysitting, but I do want to hang out if he’s up for it. I want to hear him talk some more.

  They leave. It gets quiet. It’s nice in the apartment with everybody else asleep and just me and The Bomb looking out the window. It’s not rainy, just sort of foggy and cool.

  Eventually Leonie gets up. She wanders in barefoot, blinded by sleep.

  “I smell coffee.”

  “Here, I saved you the rest. I figured you’d be up soon and want some.”

  “Thanks.” She takes the oversized mug and breathes it in, then looks around foggily.

  “Where is everybody?”

  “Beau and Uncle Frank are getting that picture made. Oscar is asleep, and here is your ever-lovin’ Bommy, right here.” The Bomb thumps her tail and gets up at the sound of her name, then kisses Leo’s hand. Her devoted subject.

  “What should we do today?” Leonie is amusing me. She is mostly still asleep. She sets down her coffee cup, scoops up The Bomb, and holds her in the rocking chair, which The Bomb is too big for. One of Bommy’s hind legs sticks out in an undignified right angle.

  “I’m going to post a picture of you two like that,” I threaten, laughing.

  “You have to take it first.” She smushes The Bomb back onto her lap, as her hind end is sort of sliding off. The Bomb tries to go along with it, but then gives up and hops off to lie down at her feet.

  “Well, I did take it. I have it here, in my mind’s eye,” I say.

  We sit and drink coffee as we prepare to seize the day.

  I read that the Embarcadero is this long, cool place to walk dogs, etc., so we head down California to Market to go look for it. It’s not half bad outside, at least by Seattle standards, though I see long drawn-out expressions of freezing misery on the San Franciscans’ faces as we pass. There are Christmas decorations blinking on all the streets. There’s a waving Santa with a sandwich board advertising half-price vitamins. He waves at us. We wave back. The Bomb doesn’t bark; she’s not much of a barker, but she frowns at him hard.

  It’s a fair walk, but The Bomb is pulling Leo and I’m keeping up with them so we move fairly rapidly. I’m out of breath by the time we stop.

  The Embarcadero is perfect for a walk. We meander along and pass under the Bay Bridge. The sun comes out briefly and then darts back under the cloud comforter. We examine the view from under the bridge. Everything has been tagged by graffiti.

  After some more brisk double-time, we find an awesome place called the Hi Dive. It looks like an old shack, which we like, so we decide to give it a try. The food is great. We get an extra side of scrambled eggs for The Bomb, and Leo gives it to her while we are still eating and she is waiting outside on the sidewalk. We all eat breakfast for lunch after which we unhitch The Bomb from the Hi Dive sign and continue our quest for knowledge.

  We end up walking all the way down to Pier 48, which is like two or three miles. The Embarcadero is real flat, and they offer to rent bikes periodically along the way.

  The bikes would be fun, but I’m still in my thrifty mode. I pretend not to see Leo’s “hey—I got an idea” face as we pass the rental kiosks.

  We continue our walk.

  After pausing on a nearby bridge, we decide to keep going for a little longer. We walk along and find a cute little park called China Basin where we sit and let The Bomb run around dragging her plastic-bag leash, chasing invisible squirrels and sticks.

  We flop down on a park bench and look around at the beauty of it all.

  “This is cool,” Leo observes. “I like San Francisco.”

  “Me too.” I close my eyes, and immediately my hand is brushed by something slobbery and rough. Bommy is sticking me with a stick. She wants to play fetch.

  So we play a slightly different game. This one is called “I sit and you fetch.” That is where I sit and she fetches. It works well with my present energy levels. After a while, I stop and lean back against the bench.

  “I’ve been thinking . . .” Leonie says. I groan and slide down the backrest in a heap.

  “What? You don’t even know what I’m going to say!” She elbows me a little.

  “You’re right. I just figured you were going to drone on about Ratskin.”

  “Oh. Well . . . I was. But not like you think. What I was going to say is I’m kind of thinking I’m not getting a very good deal out of this . . . thing . . . with him.” She looks at me like she’s discovered something terrible. And is being really disloyal by admitting it.

  Now, I can hear you thinking that I probably jumped up and down and yelled, “Duh! Duh! Duh!” at her, but I did not.

  She’s already feeling guilty. I don’t need to yell anything. I need to remember to breathe very calmly. I close my eyes like a priest at confession and lean my head back against the bench rest.

  “Go on,” I say like Jon Stewart.

  “I don’t know. I was just thinking how The Bomb goes along with whatever some other dog wants to do, and it’s so disgusting. It’s like that with him and me. He calls me, and I go to wherever he says, night time or pouring rain or whatever, but I can’t call him or ask him to meet me, ever. And it would be easy for him! He’s the one with a car! How is that fair? It’s not! It’s not fair! It sucks!” She is indignant.

  What?! I open my eyes and smile at her. Big. This is new.

  It’s a beginning.

  “Atta girl!” I mean it. “It sucks for real!” I sit up and hug her shoulders. “Yeah, baby!”

  By the time we head back, it’s starting to get dark, even though it’s barely past four in the afternoon. It’s around the winter solstice, so the days are their shortest. I’m embarrassed to admit I’m not exactly sure what day it is.

  Not Christmas—all I’m sure of is that.

  On the way back, I start to limp a little. My feet hurt. It didn’t seem like we walked very far at the time, but now it does. Eventually we turn off the Embarcadero and onto Market, then California—same route we came.

  When we buzz to get in, Oscar’s voice comes over the intercom.

  “Where did you go?”

  “For a wal
k.”

  “I figured that. Where?”

  “To, um, China Basin Park?”

  “Oh my lord, child! That’s about thirty miles!”

  I laugh.

  “So not! Can we come in—I mean, may we?”

  “Oh. Yeah. Sorry.” He buzzes us in.

  When we get upstairs, Oscar actually looks pleased to see us.

  “Oh, dears, I’m so glad you’re back! I didn’t know where you’d gone, and neither did Frank when I called him, and then neither of you answered when Beau gave me your numbers and, well, there are some pretty dodgy places around here and . . . So! I’m glad you’re back!”

  I look at Leonie. Why didn’t her phone ring?

  “I got mad and turned mine off, just in case you-know-who did call.” She shrugs. “Else I’d just talk to him. I know I would.”

  I’m so proud of her I’m speechless. Oscar continues.

  “Anyway, they should be back any minute, and I said I’d take us out tonight! How fun does that sound? San Francisco is known all over the world for its great food!”

  I’m stoked. Sign me up. Last night was awesome. I look at Leonie, who is smiling.

  We nod.

  “Yay!” She looks out the window. The dark is upon us. Just as Beau and Uncle Frank arrive.

  I’m totally looking forward to seeing Beau’s happy face after a long day with his favorite uncle, but when he comes in, neither of them look very thrilled. Beau’s face is red with temper or exercise; I can’t tell. Frank just looks aggrieved. Like he’d really like to figure out how to do something he’s been failing to accomplish all day.

  When we ask about the picture, they say it wouldn’t be ready before tomorrow, which is still really quick for this time of year. When we ask about the Coit Tower, they look away from each other before answering.

  “It was awesome!” Beau is trying to be enthusiastic.

  Leonie and I, and even Oscar, all look at each other. It’s totally obvious Beau and Frank had a disagreement or something during their day together. Maybe not a fight exactly, but a disturbance in the force for sure.

  “Did you see the view?” Oscar asks.

  “Yes, Oscar, we were up there. How could we not?” Frank can only be described as snippy.

  “Well, okay. I’m glad you had such a great time. Maybe you should go again tomorrow,” Oscar answers sarcastically.

  Frank just glares at him and stomps off into the bedroom. We hear the bath running.

  Oscar looks at Beau.

  “Well, that seemed to go well.” He arches his eyebrows at Beau over his reading glasses.

  “Omg! Whatever!” Beau flops down on the sofa.

  “Beau, what happened?” Leo and I say it almost in unison.

  “I asked him what he thought I should do about our stupid school and this gayness thing. It was useless! He was useless! All day he was like: ‘I don’t have the answers. How can I tell you what to do?’ And I’m just looking at him. I’m all, ‘Seriously? I come all the way here and you got nothing?’ ” Beau runs his hands through his hair so it looks like he’s been battling a strong wind.

  We are subdued. We thought Uncle Frank would know.

  Leo is first to speak.

  “Well, why not? Hasn’t he been gay a long time by now? He should know how it works.”

  Okay, so Beau and I are used to Leo saying randomness, but Oscar slowly turns his head and does a “take” on her. Then he looks at me. I just shake my head like, “It’s all good.” He turns back and nods at her.

  “I guess the problem with the ‘gayness thing’ is there isn’t just one way to be gay. There’s no figuring it out. There’s only coming out, and in that case, you can only be true to yourself. Remember—” He points to the long thin sign over the massive messy bookcase:

  This above all: to thine own self be true.

  He turns back to us, gesturing to it.

  “Do you have any idea how long it took me to understand how profound that is?”

  I don’t think I’ve ever thought much about it.

  “It is so important! To use your time here well! To learn who you are . . . and not squander it! Our time here is the only thing that limits us, when we’ve had such a lucky start!”

  We just look at him. Us? Lucky? He continues enthusiastically.

  “Yes! Think about it: We are healthy, well fed, wanted, surviving, first world, intelligent, and compassionate human beings! We are the stuff that stars are made of! We have the ability right now in this new millennium, to do almost anything we want, if we can focus and not just spin out bickering. Right?! That’s where we fail! If we can’t grow beyond our old-fashioned worn-out bigotries and get along, how do we expect to negotiate this brave new world?”

  We look at him thoughtfully. Then Beau shrugs in annoyance.

  “I still need advice! Look, I’m a kid! Someone needs to tell me something I don’t know!”

  “Fine then, here’s some advice: Figure it out! Harken to your better angels. You’re a big boy! What does your gut tell you?”

  “I don’t know! Nothing!”

  “Try harder. Reach down and feel your heart.”

  “Okay! My heart says find some place I can feel at home! Which I don’t have a clue how to do! I’m lost, okay? I can’t find my way home! That’s what my heart is screaming at me!” Beau looks like he feels like crying. He’s getting red again.

  “Good! That is a great start! Once you can identify the problem, you can begin to create the solution.”

  “Great! How? I’m trying! I need magic!”

  Oscar laughs a little snarkily.

  “Oh right, I forgot the magic! Lemme just grab you some of my fairy dust here.”

  “Fine! Get me some! I need it! If someone had an answer, I would be so glad.”

  “Well, lil’ snapper, let’s try then: Where do you like best, of the places you have lived so far?”

  “Nowhere.”

  “Very helpful. Where did you dislike the least?”

  Beau looks at us.

  “I guess Seattle. Before all the crap.”

  Leo goes, “Yay!” quietly. I smile too.

  Oscar looks at him, shrugs, and nods.

  “There you are. Go home.”

  Beau looks at him incredulously.

  “Are you kidding? Seattle sucks!”

  Oscar snorts.

  “Hee-hee! Sorry. I saw the punk band Fear open a show there once with that line.” He cackles again.

  “ ’Cuz it does.”

  “Yes, well, it certainly impressed the milling audience! Mr. Lee Ving immediately had their attention. They began throwing things at the band and spitting beer at him onstage . . . but I digress.”

  “So you’re saying go back there?”

  “I’m saying follow your heart! Stop thinking about being stuck in high school, which is going to be over in a nanosecond, and start to think about who you are going to be in your early adulthood, which will be upon you in another nanosecond, and then it too, will be gone one more nanosecond after that! Start to plan now to make a difference, because you are going to be at your peak very soon, but someday you will become tired.”

  We know that this is true, but we shrug. Too far away. Don’t care.

  Oscar looks at us in exasperation.

  “Do you know the worst thing about getting old, or at least older? I’ll tell you my opinion: It’s getting tired! I’m not there yet, but I’ve heard that this world, so interesting and sparkly, grows dull and the joke ceases to amuse. Then you are worn out and don’t care. Which is fine, as long as you have something to show and point to when you need it . . . that you can announce you have accomplished: a mission, a passion you have nurtured—be it children, books, music, science, whatever. Because then you can settle down and remember to enjoy yourself, y’know? I did a play back in the day, Auntie Mame, with exactly the line: ‘Life is a banquet and most poor suckers are starving to death!’ ”

  We look at each other. Beau rolls his
eyes at us. Very bad mood.

  Oscar stops his diatribe briefly to choose a bottle of wine from their wine rack.

  I’ve noticed he drinks a fair amount. I hope not too much. He seems just fine, though he does like to talk a lot. At least what he says is mostly interesting.

  I also like how Oscar throws in quotes from other people with his conversation. I don’t know who said what mostly, except the Shakespeare one, which I’m pretty sure is Hamlet, but I’m going to look them up. I can tell they are quotes because he strikes a pose when he says them. Holds up one ironic finger, like proclaiming “the beauty of it all.” He stops to go check on Frank.

  Uncle Frank is still in the tub. We hear a startled splash and muffled conversation.

  As it turns out, tonight we will go out to dinner with Uncle Oscar but not Uncle Frank.

  “Kids, you know what? I think let’s just us go. Uncle Frank was just snoring—sound asleep in the tub! I had to wake him up. Let’s get ready while I make sure he gets to bed, then out we’ll go, and we can talk about him all night!” He disappears.

  He cracks me up. We listen to the indistinct voices from the master bath and getting-out splashes. We can see Sylvester jump on their bed through the open bedroom door, then Oscar comes back out and closes it behind him. We put our coats on and prepare to leave.

  “He’s awake now, but he’ll be out like a light again in a second. Where all did you guys go today, that he’s so exhausted?” he asks Beau as we start down the stairs.

  “Shopping. Then all the way to the top of the Coit Tower. It was awesome up there! It was a little cloudy. Frank said it’s an even better view in the summer when it’s clear.”