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"Look at this," Henry said.
Sian looked over his shoulder. "What?"
"This. Look." He gestured with a battered envelope. It was dirty, fingerprinted, and smudged; he thought there was even a tyre track across it, and something round and hard was inside. It was addressed to Sean Astin.
"Open it."
"No way," Henry told her. "We need to get it to Sean."
"Christ, Henry. You're such a do-gooder. Take after your Uncle Sean, you do."
"Fuck you, Sian." She snatched at the envelope but Henry lifted it above his head.
"Fuck you." She stopped stretching after it and straightened her clothing. "No one would ever guess from your behaviour that you're the big brother." She walked out of the room. At the door, she paused, looked over her shoulder, and said, "Do what you want with the damn thing. But if that bastard left everything to Sean Astin, I'll spend the rest of my life contesting it."
Henry sighed and stared at the envelope. What would their dad have sent to Sean? In this ratty old envelope? He snapped it against his hand and then tucked it into his jacket pocket. Safe, he hoped, from his sister's curiosity.
Two days later, Henry reached Sean's daughter by phone. Trying not to shout across the miles to her, he explained, "Elizabeth, my father passed last week. He left an envelope for your dad."
"Dominic died? My God. I hadn't heard, but I hardly ever watch the news anymore. I can't believe it." There was a long pause, and Henry thought he might have been cut off. He was about to speak when she said, "I need to tell Daddy. He's not real well, Henry. In fact, well." She sighed heavily. "He kind of floats in and out it, if you know what I mean. More good days than bad, but not by much." Henry wasn't entire sure what she meant, but he uh-hummed obligingly. "Do you want to mail the envelope?"
For reasons Henry couldn't identify, he didn't. "Er, no. Can I come out? Bring it to him? I haven't seen him in more years than I can remember."
"Well, as I said, Daddy's not doing real well. He's living at the Frances Goldwyn Lodge, actually."
Henry wasn't sure what that was, but "Goldwyn" sounded like the movies to him. "I'm sorry to hear about your father," he finally said. "Is he well enough for me to see him?"
"Sure," Elizabeth said, but Henry didn't think she sounded at all sure. "Come on out, Henry. It would be great to see you again. Last time I saw you, you were a little boy. How old are you now? Thirty?"
"Twenty-seven. And my sister is twenty-four." Going on fourteen, he added silently.
"Wasn't she named after my dad?"
"Yes, well, in a way. Her name's Sian."
"That's right! And you were named after Henry Mortensen. Do you ever see him?"
"Yes, actually, I see Uncle Henry regularly. He was just here for the funeral."
"Oh, honey. I'm so sorry; I keep forgetting that Uncle Dom is gone." There was another long pause, and then she said, "I remember him best from when my sister died. He was wonderful." Her voice trailed off. Henry remembered when Alexandra had been killed; his dad had left immediately for America, much to Sian's displeasure, and hadn't returned for months.
"Can I ask you how old you are?" he said suddenly.
"Sure, honey. I'm fifty. Old enough to be your mom. So, you're coming out? Call me when you know your flight; I'll pick you up. You can stay with us."
"No, that's not necessary."
"Of course it's not. But I'd like that. Call me, okay?"
"Okay. Thank you, Elizabeth."
"You're welcome. And I'm sorry. Tell your mom and your sister how sorry I am to learn that Uncle Dom passed away."
Henry pressed "end" on his mobile, wondering what exactly he should tell his sister and his mum.
He pulled the envelope from its hiding place in his jacket and studied it. So much history between Dom and Sean. He knew little of it; his mother hadn't encouraged her husband to reminisce, and after they'd divorced, Henry and Sian had lived mostly with her, visiting their father between school and his work. Sometimes Mum had made Dad's life seem tawdry and unattractive. Secretly, Henry had admired his father; he was so different from his school friends' fathers.
When she was a little girl, Sian had adored their father but all that had changed when she'd gone to university. She had withdrawn from Henry as well, which had hurt him, and their relationship had never recovered. He didn't understand it, and the few times he'd tried to ask her, she'd been cutting and fled. Henry admitted to himself that she had grown into a person that he didn't really care for.
He'd asked his Uncle Henry about her just last year, after a particularly bad fight with her. "Something happened," was all he'd say. "Ask your father."
But Henry couldn't ask his father anymore. And Sian wouldn't talk about it. Just another mystery in his mysterious family.
He punched in his sister's number. "I'm going to LA, to take the envelope to Sean Astin. Come with me."
"I have a life here, Henry. I can't just flit off to other countries whenever I want."
"Sian, you certainly could come with me if you wanted."
"Perhaps I could. But I'm not." She fell silent for a few seconds. "Take care of yourself, Henry. America is a dangerous place."
Arriving at LAX, Henry had to agree with Sian; America looked dangerous to him. The airport was old and battered, as if they'd stopped repairing it after the latest round of bombing. Wires looped from the ceiling; insulation exploded from cracking seams in the walls. All the announcements were in Spanish, and armed guards strolled casually, sipping lattes as they clutched their machine guns. Weapons were still a relatively rare sight in England; Henry was taken aback enough that he clutched his carry-on even tighter and hoped he looked as innocuous as he really was.
After he'd been fingerprinted, searched, and permitted to leave the airport, he stepped out into the hot smoggy air. Elizabeth had wanted to pick him up and have him stay at her place, but he'd insisted on a hotel. He wanted some time alone. Now he just had to find the place.
The queue for taxis was long, and Henry was sweating by the time he climbed into one. "Santa Monica Hilton," he said into the speaker, and the taxi jerked forward, knocking him backwards. It was long, fast drive through massively clogged motorways, and Henry was sweating from nervousness as well as the heat by the time he was deposited at the hotel. Big rings of sweat had formed under his arms, his jacket was damp and wrinkled, and his feet felt swollen. He banged his shin pulling his carry-on out of the taxi.
"Mister Monaghan," the clerk checking him in said. "What a pleasure. You already have two messages waiting for you; would you like to take them here or in your room?"
"My room, thank you."
"Here's the key card. Do you need any help?"
"No. No, I'm fine."
"The elevators are behind you and to your right. I hope you enjoy your stay with us."
The room, Henry was pleased to discover, was as cold as a winter in Scotland, and he collapsed with relief onto the bed. "Bloody hell," he murmured to himself, and shut his eyes into sleep.
When he woke, he was freezing and hungry, it was dark out, and he felt guilty for not having called Elizabeth. He checked his messages; both were from her, so he punched her numbers into his cell as soon as he wiped the sleep from his eyes.
"Henry!" She was eating something crunchy. "I was getting worried. I'll pick you up tomorrow. I told Daddy everything. Well, as much as I could. There's no knowing how much he'll remember, so we may have to tell him again. Awful, isn't it? To have to keep breaking the news that one of his oldest friends is gone. Oh, shit, honey. I forgot we're talking about your dad."
"No, it's fine, Elizabeth. It is awful."
"Well, yeah. It is. Um, anyway. I'll pick you up around nine, if that's okay. Daddy's up in Woodland Hills, so it'll take a while to get there. Traffic is a fucking nightmare."
"Nine will be great. I'm looking forward to seeing you again."
"Me, too. I was trying to figure out how long it's been; you were just a little boy when I last saw you, so it's got to be fifteen or twenty years. Do you remember me at all?"
"Of course I do. It was my first visit to the States, and I was terrifically excited. I was nine, so it's been eighteen years. I remember so well because Dad had talked about the hobbits all my life. I was nervous about meeting Sean and Elijah."
"Yeah. Uncle Elijah." She sighed. "Daddy'll probably talk a lot about Elijah; just a heads up. A-a-a-anyway. I'll see you tomorrow. Sleep well."
"Thank you, Elizabeth. You, too."
"Oh, honey, I keep meaning to tell you -- please call me Lizzie, okay? The only time I was ever called Elizabeth was when I was in trouble."
He laughed. "Good night, Lizzie."
"Night, Henry."
Lizzie was waiting for him in the lobby when he stepped out of the lift. He recognised her as soon as he saw her, even though it had been nearly two decades since he'd seen her. For one thing, she took after her father quite strongly, particularly through her face. She was also what he could only describe as a big girl -- big boned, big breasted, and with what he knew Sian would call big hair.
But she was lovely, too, with Sean's warm brown eyes and sweet smile. Despite her size, Henry found her quite feminine, and when she hugged him, nearly knocking him off his feet, she smelled sweet and fresh, utterly unlike anything he'd encountered in Los Angeles thus far.
"Bienvenido!" she said when she finally released him. "My god, but you've grown. Let me look at you." She held him by the shoulders and stepped back, looking him up and down. "Don't have much of your dad in you. Just your eyes. Uncle Dom had the most beautiful grey eyes. I know everybody oohed and ahhed over Uncle Lij's big blues, but I always thought Uncle Dom's were prettier. And you've got his lashes, too. Dammit. Why do men always have long lashes, when I have to goop mascara on?"
Henry felt himself blushing and was at a loss, but Lizzie carried on, leading him out to her car. "You still use petrol?" he asked staring at it.
"Shit, yeah. You think Americans are gonna stop guzzling gas? You don't know us very well, do you." She opened the door for him; for a moment, he thought she wanted him to drive and was going to protest, but then he realised it was the passenger's side and obediently climbed in.
"I don't know much about Americans, actually. This is only my third visit."
"When were you last here?"
"When I was twenty, Dad brought me to New York for two weeks. He and Uncle Billy were in --"
"Rosencrantz and Guildenstern! I remember. Oh my god, they were fucking brilliant." She started the car and zoomed away, and once again Henry found himself knocked back into the seat. "They won Tonies for that, remember?"
"I have that Tony. Dad traveled so much that he left his awards with me."
"Cool. I saw them when they toured; they were in LA for a while. God, they were good together. Never saw such timing."
Henry smiled at her enthusiasm. He'd loved to watch Uncle Billy and his dad together, too; they really did have something special.
"So, listen. Daddy's having a pretty good day. I talked to him this morning, and I talked to the nurse that's on duty. He remembered that Uncle Dom has passed away, rest his soul, and that you were coming out for a visit."
Henry wasn't sure how to respond, so he remained silent, just nodding. Her words didn't reassure him; rather, his apprehension was increasing the closer they drew to the nursing home.
"Can I see the envelope?" Lizzie asked suddenly. Henry patted his jacket pocket nervously, then drew it out and showed it to her. She kept driving but glanced at it, biting her lip. Nearly a minute passed before she nodded and he put it back, straightening his jacket.
They drove the rest of the way in silence.
The nursing home or assisted living place, whatever it was, looked more like a luxury resort to Henry. He wished his own home were as attractive, though he would hate to have to care for the garden. The minute he stepped from Lizzie's car, he started to sweat again in the morning heat that shimmered up from the asphalt. "It's not far," she told him, stretching her back. "Daddy's waiting."
He followed her into the frigid air-conditioned lobby, where they signed in, Lizzie chatting cheerfully in rapid Spanish with the receptionist, and then out again, across a wide courtyard that looked vaguely Moorish, with red brick arches draped with brilliant flowers and fountains spurting in the glaring sunlight. "Nice, isn't it?" Lizzie commented. "We're lucky to have found this for him."
Eventually, they rounded a corner and Henry saw Sean. He was instantly recognizable despite his age. "He's only eighty," Lizzie murmured. "But he had that stroke a couples years ago."
"Dad was only seventy-five," Henry said. "But he lived a hard life."
"He lived a real life," Lizzie told him firmly. "I admired your dad." She grinned at him. "Had a terrible crush on him, in fact."
Henry burst out laughing, and Sean looked up, then raised a hand. "Dear God," he said, and his voice was the same, just a little huskier. "My boy, come here so I can look at you." Henry knelt next to his chair, and Sean put his hands on Henry's face. "You have your father's eyes," Sean said, and smiled, that same sweet smile that Henry remembered from when he was a little boy.
"I used to sit on your knee," he said. "When you visited us in London, remember? You and Dad would sit up late talking. I'd wake up and hear you." He stared at Sean's face. Although it had been so many years, he remembered those nights vividly. "One time, I got up and sat in your lap while you talked."
"I remember," Sean said, smiling fondly. "You fell asleep in my arms. Your dad wanted to put you back to bed, but I said no. I wanted to hold you. I knew how quickly you'd grow up; I'd already seen my girls vanish into adulthood. Oh, how quickly they left me."
Henry looked up at Lizzie, who smiled at him. "Daddy, I'm gonna run a couple of errands, okay? Henry will stay with you, and when I get back, we'll have lunch."
"You don't have to go," Henry protested, but she shook her head.
"No, I do. I really have some errands, plus I think you and Daddy should spend some time alone." She bent down and kissed her father. "Okay?"
"Okay, princess." He patted her face. "Come back soon. I miss you so much."
"Oh, Daddy." She put her arms around him; Henry looked away, wanting to give them some privacy, but Lizzie left almost immediately, and he was alone with Sean.
Uncle Sean. He studied him carefully, trying to match up the man before him with his memories, and with the images he'd seen in movies over the years. He was still a handsome man, though heavy, and he wheezed slightly even sitting still. "It's good to see you again," Henry finally said, and meant it.
"I'm sorry about your father." Henry nodded; he was, too. He missed his dad. He hadn't cried much yet. He expected that would come with time; he even longed for the release. He hoped not now, not here. "I miss him. I miss everyone." But then Sean covered his eyes with one hand, and Henry felt tears fill his own eyes. "Dom. Why didn't he call me when he got sick?"
"He wouldn't let us tell anyone. Well, Uncle Billy, but that's all."
"How is Billy? He didn't call me, either."
Henry shrugged. Billy was a mystery to him. His dad was so different when Billy was around; it was as though they merged and became someone else entirely. Henry had always been a little jealous of the way Billy captured his dad's attention. When he was much younger, he had shyly mentioned this to his Uncle Henry, who had laughed and tousled his hair. "Love is a mystery," was all he'd say.
"He's okay," Henry finally said. "He was with Dad at the end."
"I don't even know what Dom died of."
"Liver cancer."
"Shit. Short and painful."
Henry nodded; it had been that. But Billy had made sure Dom was as comfortable as possible. He had to smile, remembering them sharing a joint while his dad was propped up in the hospital bed Billy had set up for him in his flat in London. He'd made all the arrangements and no one had disputed his right to do so. Henry certainly found it easy to defer to Billy. Sian sulked, but even she knew how much their father loved Billy and had given way.
"How's your mother?"
"She's okay. I think his death hit her harder than she thought it would. My sister's staying with her. Um, Sean. Did Lizzie tell you that my dad left you a letter? I found it when I was cleaning out his desk." He pulled it from his jacket pocket and handed it to Sean. Sean stared at it for a long time, so long that Henry's knees grew tired of kneeling, and he realised he was sweating again. Sean finally took the envelope, so Henry stood up, his knees popping, and looked around for another chair.
"Over by the door, behind me," Sean said, still looking at the envelope.
When he returned carrying the molded plastic chair, Sean still hadn't opened the envelope. Henry took off his jacket and hung it over the back of the chair before sitting. Sean handed him the envelope.
"I don't see too well these days. Would you read it to me?"
"Sean, I don't know what's in here. It could be really personal."
"I'm sure it is. But who better than Dom's son? He loved you so much, Henry. He was certain he'd never have children. You and Sian were the light of his life."
"Billy was. I mean, I know my dad loved me, but Billy always came first." Henry was surprised as the passion in his voice. It was true; Billy always did come first. People should acknowledge that.
"Does that make you angry?"
"Not really. Some. Sometimes. When I was little and he and Billy would disappear for weeks at a time, it used to drive my mum crazy. She tried to be understanding, but." He shrugged. "I think that's why their marriage ended really."
Sean nodded. "I'm sure that was part of it." He sighed. "Open the envelope, Henry. Let's get this over before Lizzie comes back."
Henry looked again at the envelope in his hands. Definitely worse for wear after he'd carried it around. The paper was soft with age, the penciled writing smudged. "Sean Astin" it read. He looked up at Sean, who nodded expectantly, and carefully slipped his finger under the edge of the flap and slowly opened it.
Inside he found one of his dad's myriad bracelets, a silver one, with the Om carved into it in Tibetan. He handed it to Sean, who brought it to his mouth and kissed it. "Fuck," Sean whispered. "I remember this." He wiped his eyes. "Go on," he said.
Henry unfolded the letter. It was handwritten, in his dad's messy, nearly illegible scrawl, in green ink that had smeared a bit. "Dear Sean," he began, and cleared his throat. He could hear his dad's raspy voice in his head.
"It's okay," Sean said softly. "It's hard for me, too."
Henry nodded and started again, his voice a little stronger. "Dear Sean. Since you're reading this, I'm dead. Tell Billy that I'm coming back to haunt him. If Billy's gone, tell Viggo. And if Vig is gone, then I'm haunting you. Next time something weird happens, blame me."
"Poor Billy," Sean murmured. He slipped the bracelet onto his left wrist, and then wrapped his fingers around it. "I wish Dom would haunt me."
"I'm leaving this in my desk. If Henry finds it, he'll see it gets to you. I'm not sure what Sian will do if she finds it. Sian, if you're reading this letter, please take it to your namesake. I want him to hear what I have to say.
"I've loved you for nearly sixty years now, Seanie. Through fat times and thin, you've been more than a friend to me. Dearer than my brother in the end, and you know how much I love Matt. You already knew that, didn't you."
Sean nodded. "I did know that. I loved him, too. Such a sweet, honest man."
"You know it isn't your fault my marriage broke up, any more than it's my fault yours did. Shit happens, Sean. What happened between us was precious to me. I never stopped loving you, not for one minute. I never blamed you, but I think you blamed me.
"Forgive me, Sean, if I need forgiveness. I lost Lighe, and I nearly lost you. I'd give anything for the Fellowship to be reunited. Well, maybe in heaven, if there is a heaven. I know you think there is. But I think not. I think we'll be reincarnated, and I think we'll be together again in the next life. And that's what I dream of. Another chance to get it right, with you, with Lighe, and with Bills.
"I love you, Sean." Henry's voice broke and he had to stop a moment, embarrassed. He heard Sean wheezing, a fountain playing, and someone walking past them, their heels briskly clicking on the sidewalk. He took a deep breath. "I love you, Sean," he repeated. "I loved everything. Tell Henry. He deserves to know. And tell Lighe that I miss him, and that I love him, too, and that I want another chance. That I demand another chance.
"Be merry. Dom."
The two men sat in silence for several minutes. The fountain splashed, the sun beat down, and his dad was dead. Gone forever. Henry was all alone now. No wife, no children, just an angry sister and a disappointed mum. Henry folded the letter and slipped it back into its envelope, then handed it to Sean, who smiled at it and tucked it into his shirt pocket.
"How did Dom spell Elijah's name?"
"Lighe."
Sean snickered. "Your dad never could spell worth a damn. Couldn't believe he was the son of a teacher, and had been to college." Henry smiled. It was true; his father's spelling was famously bad. "What's the worst misspelled word in the letter?"
"Reincarnated. He forgot the 'i' and put two 't's in it."
"Rencarnatted. With his luck, he'll be rencarnatted instead of reincarnated. Wouldn't that piss him off."
"What happened, Sean? What did he want you to tell me?"
Sean sighed again, heavily. "Thank you, Dominic," he mumbled. "Let's go to my apartment, Henry. I need a drink."
"Lizzie?"
"Will find us. Help me up, will you?" He grunted deeply as he tried to push himself up; Henry grabbed his arm and pulled until Sean was standing, a bit wobbly. "It's this way."
They went in through a double glass door; like everyplace Henry had been indoors in LA, the corridor was freezing and he shivered as his sweat suddenly cooled. Sean's apartment was on the ground floor, a one-bedroom apartment with a balcony overlooking a fountain. The benches in the kitchen were oddly low, and Henry saw a wheelchair folded flat against a wall in the lounge,.
"This is nice," he said, looking about him.
"Small, but I like it. I spend most of my time outside, or playing chess. They show a lot of movies here, and take us to the theatre. It's a drive for Lizzie, of course, but she's a good girl. Comes once a week, regular as clockwork."
Henry studied the pictures on the wall. Many were paintings, including two he recognised by his dad. He smiled at them, their vibrant colours reminding him of his father's flat in London. Next to one was a photograph of the Rings cast, taken at one of the many premieres. His dad looked about Henry's age in it, beaming at the camera, one arm around Billy, the other around Elijah.
Henry was about to ask about Elijah when he realised that, in the photo, Sean was holding Ali. He stared at her. So pretty. About five or six, he judged, not that he knew much about children. Neither he nor Sian appeared to be parent material; they'd even joked about it, with the biting edge that Sian always had in her interactions with him these days.
"That's Ali," Sean said just behind him, and Henry jumped.
"I know. I never said, um, how sorry I am. It was a terrible thing."
"Yeah. Yes, it was. Dom said he didn't think he was to blame for my divorce, and he was right. Losing Ali did that. I went to grievance counseling for a long time, and learned that a lot of marriages break up when a child dies. Not that Ali was a child."
"How old was she?"
"Thirty-two. Thirty-two years old."
"I'm so sorry, Sean. She was a beautiful woman."
"Yes, she was. Took after her mother. Poor Lizzie looks more like me."
"Lizzie's gorgeous," Henry protested, and Sean beamed at him.
"Well, I think so. Have you met her daughter, Blessing?" Henry shook his head. "This is Blessing."
He pointed at yet another framed photograph, this time of Lizzie, a tall fair man, and a beautiful woman standing between them. "She's Sian's age almost exactly to the day. Dom and I were trading jokes about who would be born first." He smiled fondly at the picture.
"Where is she?"
"At the University of Chicago, studying linguistics. She's a prodigy. Lizzie blames Tolkien." Henry glanced at Sean in surprise. "Well, of course, I read it to her from the time she was a baby, and she loved the movies. She learned Elvish at an early age, and was furious that there wasn't more Dwarvish in the books. I'm not sure how many languages she speaks now."
Henry looked back at the photo, leaning closer to it. Lizzie looked the same as when she'd left to run her errands. "Blessing. What a pretty name."
"Isn't it? It's Hannah Wood's middle name, Lij's sister. Her first name is really Alexandra, but she's always refused to use it. And she is a blessing, so it fits."
Sean handed Henry a beer. "I know it isn't noon yet, but I can see you're hot, and if I'm gonna tell you this story, I need it. Sit down. Someplace close, so I can see you."
They settled onto two large recliners angled toward each other, one worn and well-used. Sean dropped heavily into it. "Lizzie calls this my nest; when I'm in the apartment, I'm usually here. Even sleep it in most nights; it's easier for me to sleep sitting up."
Henry rolled the beer bottle between his hands. As had happened so often since he'd arrived, he didn't know what to say, so he just nodded, hoping Sean could see him.
Sean fiddled with the silver bracelet on his wrist. "Remember all the shit your dad used to wear? Rings and bracelets and necklaces. He and Billy had lots of matching necklaces; used to crack me up. They were always setting off metal detectors and getting searched. Dom would pretend to be wildly ticklish. I was afraid he was gonna get shot by some over-zealous security guard, but people loved it. He could've smuggled anything in."
Henry felt a smile tug at his mouth. It was true. His dad had always been on, always performing. During Henry's adolescence, he'd been embarrassed by some of the things his dad would do, even as he was proud of his fame and talent and bravado. He had always taken courage from that, telling himself that if his dad could do it, he could, too.
"This is an odd question, but can I ask what clothes you buried him in?"
Henry took a long pull on the beer. "Cremated him," he said softly. "But Billy made sure he had on his jewelry, including a necklace that matched one Billy wore. He bought Dad the most expensive suit, ultra-fine wool, with a beautiful white silk shirt. And Pippin's scarf." He hesitated, and then added, "Uncle Billy painted Dad's fingernails, too, after he died."
"One thumb black, the other red," Sean guessed, and Henry nodded. He remembered looking at his dad's body, leaning down to kiss his still, cold lips. "How is Billy?"
"Not good." Privately, Henry didn't think Billy would last long without his best mate in the world. "Furious, more than anything." He looked up at Sean. "All this time I thought that Billy was the calm one, the calming influence on my dad. And maybe that was a little true, but now I think Dad fed off Billy's energy. With Dad gone, Billy's --" He stopped abruptly, not knowing how to describe this new and strange Billy, who'd been seized with wild energy, powered by anger at the loss of Dom.
"I know. I understand exactly how he feels. Fucker still hasn't called me, though. I'll call him soon. Maybe he'll come harass me for a while."
They sat in silence again, but Henry felt more relaxed inside. He leaned back into the recliner. "You were going to tell me?" he said softly.
"Yeah. This is hard, though, Henry." Sean bit his lip; Henry noticed that he and Lizzie had the same overbite. "Okay. I'm just going to say this and hope I don't offend you. But did you know your dad was bi? That he, uh, slept with guys?"
Henry felt himself blushing, but nodded. "I always assumed. I mean, he and Billy. And Elijah. And there were some others around I wondered about."
"Yeah, good. I mean, good that you already knew. Kids don't usually want to know much about their parents' sex lives, in my experience. God knows, I sure didn't."
Henry reflected on Sean's strange parentage and felt sympathy for him. "It's okay, Sean. Dad wasn't always the most discreet of men."
"Ha. That's putting it mildly. Well, a-a-a-anyway. Dom and I. Um. We were lovers, I guess you'd say, for a long time. Off and on, you know. Not like him and Billy, or him and Lij before. But still. It was serious, for us both." He exhaled deeply. "So now you know that I'm bi, too. Haven't come out to someone in decades. Doesn't get any easier with time."
My goodness, Henry thought, trying to school his face as he imagined Sean and Dad in bed together. What on earth did they do? Oh dear.
"See, about six or seven years ago, I was in London. It was just before my stroke; really, the last time I was able to travel alone. Fuck, getting old's the shits, Henry. Dom had the right idea. Just skip that stage of life entirely.
"And I'm trying to tell you what Dom wanted me to. So I'll just say it. We were at his flat in London, in bed, and Sian walked in on us. With her lover, for Christ's sake; I guess she thought her dad was away and they'd use the place. And it was pretty obvious that we weren't just napping, if you know what I mean. We'd reached a, uh, a critical juncture in the procedure. Dom was always wild in bed."
Henry felt his eyes widen at that. Not something that surprised him, but not something he was sure he wanted to know about his father, that he was wild in bed. And with Sean, this fat old man gasping for breath.
"Sian never told me," he said at last.
"Sian never forgave us," Sean said confidently. "She was humiliated. Her friend was embarrassed, but she was absolutely mortified. I never saw her again, but Dom told me she changed after that. Refused to see him, was short with him when they had to meet. He tried to talk to her many times, but she refused. Worse than a jealous wife, he told me.
"Course, Billy tried to patch things up between them, but she was pretty vicious to him, too. And of course, it was true -- Dom and Billy have been together longer than any of us. And Dom was kind of a slut -- oh, shit, I'm sorry. Not really a slut, honestly, that's not the right word, he was, he was adventurous, you know? Always pushing the limits. I loved him for it. I loved your dad, Henry. Goddammit, but I loved your dad."
To Henry's dismay, Sean began to cry. He rose and took the beer bottle from Sean, setting it down on the cluttered little table next to his chair. He awkwardly put his arms around Sean and held him, finally resting his head on Sean's shoulder.
"Do you hate me? Despise me? Are you disappointed in your dad?"
"No, no," Henry reassured him. "I didn't know and it is a bit of a surprise. But Dad was like that. Always a surprise." He passed Sean a box of tissues. "So are you."
"Yeah. Don't much look like someone Dom would take to bed, do I. But I was so flattered the first time, and, shit, but we had fun over the years."
Sean wiped his face and blew his nose. Henry sat back down, scratching his head in a gesture he recognised from his dad. Like a monkey, his mother used to say, but even as a little boy, he had heard the affection in her voice.
"Sean, can I ask you about Elijah? What happened there?"
Sean sighed and lay back, pushing a button in the arm of the chair so it slowly flattened. He rolled his head to one side to watch Henry. "You remember Lij? How long's it been?"
"I saw him in New York when Dad and Billy were doing Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. I'm pretty sure that was the last time."
"Almost ten years ago. He was living in New York before he moved to New Zealand, so that makes sense.
"What happened? I'm not real sure. I got Dom's side of it, or what he was willing to tell me. But Dom wasn't. Well, frankly Henry, your dad sometimes had a tendency to, uh, obfuscate."
"To tell some whoppers."
Sean smiled. "Yeah. To recreate reality in a more palatable form. He and Lij were serious when they were young. For a few years. But Lij was so young, too young, and he needed time to grow up. Then Dom and Billy. Well, that's not right. It was always Dom and Billy, but it got to be more. More serious, I guess. And Lij and I. Ah, shit. I was still married, you know, and faithful to my wife, except with Lij. Cause, Lij." He shook his head helplessly. "There's nobody like Elijah."
Sean paused for a few seconds, staring into space. "When Ali was killed," he said softly, "all the hobbits came out. One big hobbit pile, for months. Chris was such a mess; she was actually hospitalised for a while. Lizzie and Blessing took care of her, and the boys took care of me. God bless them.
"Lij and Dom -- they were good together. Good in a different way than Dom and Billy. More settled. Lij was always settled. Ian used to say he had a thousand year old soul, and I always thought that was true. He's a good, good man." Henry watched as Sean's face softened, and his sweet smile re-emerged as he reminisced. "Billy wasn't jealous, though. You mustn't think that. Our relationships were different." He rubbed his face. "Really different. They made me different, too. I was never the same after I met them.
"That used to bother me. Because they were gone, but I was still here, still in LA, still with Chris, still trying to live my old life, but everything was different. I was different. Dom was in London, Billy in Glasgow, Lij in New York, leading different lives, but I. Fuck, I missed them." He covered his face again, but to Henry's relief, didn't cry.
Henry realised that Sean still hadn't told him what had happened, but he wasn't sure how to ask again.
But Sean was right; they were different. Henry had known that about his dad all his life, that he wasn't like other men. Sometimes he'd been proud of that, sometimes embarrassed, but the knowledge had lodged itself deep in him. "That's why mum left him, isn't it," he said suddenly.
"I think so. It was just cumulative, over the years. But Henry, you must know how much Dom loved you, wanted you. My god, I couldn't believe it when he told me. He was nearly fifty when you were born. What a celebration that was. Did you know I was there? I held you when you were only a few minutes old. All of us did. Viggo, Henry, Orlando, Billy, Elijah -- we were all there, in London, at the hospital."
"Uncle Henry told me the story. He left right in the middle of a concert tour to be there. Dad had told him he was going to name me after him, and he felt he had to be there. He's my godfather, too."
"He always took that role very seriously," Sean smiled. "Henry's a very serious man. I think that's why Dom chose him. Plus he's closer to your age than any of us, and he thought that would be important, too."
"He's also very straight," Henry said, feeling a bit daring, but Sean just laughed.
"You're right; that played a part in it, too."
"And Sian's named after you."
Sean smiled brilliantly, and Henry caught sight of the young man he'd been. "I was so proud of that. Henry William and Sian Jordan. The next generation. And now Blessing, so a third generation." He shook his head, jowls bobbing around his smile. "Dom died happy," he said with certainty. "Don't be ashamed of your dad. He was an amazing man, and I was proud that he was my friend. That he invited me into his bed. He taught me to be better than I was, Henry. He really did."
After a brisk knock on the door, Lizzie opened it. "Used my key, Daddy; hope that's okay."
"Oh, princess, of course. Come in. You look overheated. Henry and I were having a beer. Would you like one?"
"How 'bout I take you boys someplace nice for lunch? I'll have a margarita, if you don't mind Mexican food. Henry?"
"A margarita sounds brilliant, Lizzie."
"Go to the bathroom, Daddy, then we'll leave."
She helped him up, and Henry offered an arm, too. They walked him to the bathroom, but he shooed them off. "I can still piss by myself," he said, but Henry didn't think he really minded their assistance.
When they were alone, she asked, "How was he?"
"Excellent. Sharp as a tack."
She nodded, looking pleased. "A good day, then. I'm glad. Thank you for coming all this way for him. It means a lot, to him, and to me."
"Oh, Lizzie, how could I not? I have wonderful memories of him, and I know how much my father loved him."
"And Daddy loved Uncle Dom. I've known that my entire life. All those men, they had something special. Unique, really. He'll be a while; why don't we sit down for a minute." She took her dad's big chair. "I never told you, but I've read all your novels."
"Well, there are only three of them."
"That's three more than I've written, and I've tried. Seriously. They're wonderful. Amazing insights into human behavior, and damn good stories as well. Daddy's read them, too. Well. listened to them. He has a lot of trouble reading these days. Macular degeneration."
"I'm sorry. He had me read the letter to him."
"Oh." She looked away, and Henry knew she'd never ask him about the contents. She had Sean's integrity; he could tell.
A toilet flushed, some water ran, and then the bathroom door opened. He and Lizzie rushed to help Sean, who said, "I've been thinking. I'd like to have a memorial service for Dom. Henry, would you mind? I can't really travel anymore, so it would have to be here. Do you think your mother would object? We'll talk to Billy first, of course. But maybe it would bring Elijah home, and some of the others. What do you think?"
Henry surprised himself by hugging Sean. "Dad would have loved it. I love it. Soon, okay? So I can be here for it."
Sean smiled sadly. "As soon as we can get it together. Lizzie?"
"It's a great idea, Daddy. I'll get on it right away. Blessing will want to be here for it, too."
"Now, someone promised me lunch and a margarita. And we can start planning."
Once Lizzie got an idea, Henry soon discovered, she threw herself into the task whole-heartedly. He had been assigned to call Billy; since it was eight hours ahead in Glasgow, he called first thing the next morning.
"Mah boy!" Billy's familiar voice came down the line. "What the fuck are you doin' in L-fuckin'-A? London too fuckin' cold for ya?"
"No, no. I, uh, well, needed to see Sean. Astin."
"How is the old fart?"
"He is well, considering. He has good days and bad, as we all do."
Silence from Billy, who finally said, "That's a fancy way of tellin' me he's failin', isn't it."
"Well, yes, rather. I'm sorry, Uncle Billy. He wants to have a memorial service, here in LA, for Dad. What do you think? Would you come out?"
"Don't you be uncling me, Henry. We're both too old for it now. Tell Seanie of course he can have his memorial service. I'll be out as soon as I can, in two or three days. Back with my tribe, before it's my turn to die."
"Billy! Please don't say that. Especially not right now."
"It's the truth, Henry. Now that Dom --" He stopped speaking abruptly, and Henry heard him sigh. "Your sister isn't with you?"
"No. I asked her to come, but she refused."
Billy changed the subject at that news, and began to describe a play he hoped to produce in Edinburgh, until at last both men fell awkwardly silent. Finally, Henry said, "Thank you, Billy. For everything."
"Oh, eh. We'll talk when I get to LA; I'm too hard of hearin' for phones these days. Give Sean a hug for me, and Lizzie, too."
Henry hung up relieved. He hadn't been certain how Billy would receive Sean's idea; after all, he hadn't called Sean since Dom had died. Henry called his sister as well and left a voicemail for her, asking her to come out. His mother refused, as he'd known she would; she had never been comfortable among the tribe, as Billy called them, but she asked him to let her pay for the flowers.
The doorbell rang, and Lizzie called out, "Henry! Would you get that, honey?"
He tucked away his mobile, and headed toward the front of the house. Lizzie lived in a large home, even though she was alone these days, but that meant there was lots of room for him, and he was enjoying the pool and jacuzzi. Very different from his flat in London, certainly. As exotic as LA should be, and he had been happy to check out of the hotel.
He heard the front door open and began to jog, wondering how it had been unlocked. He reached the hall and found a tall blonde young woman rolling in a bulky suitcase. "Um, hello," he said, shyly.
"You must be Henry," she said, and smiled. Instantly, he recognised her.
"And you must be Blessing." She put out her hand and he took it, then impulsively raised it to his lips. "Welcome home, Blessing."
She curtsied, and they laughed. "Thank you, Henry. Where's my mom?"
"Working in the garden. She didn't expect you until tonight."
"Caught an earlier flight. Just couldn't wait to get home. I'm so glad to finally meet you, Henry."
He smiled at her, a bit dazzled. "Um, yes. Rather, I'm glad to meet you, too." She laughed and squeezed his hand.
"Help me?"
"Yes, I would like that. I would like that very much."
The phone rang, and they jumped. Blessing picked up a receiver. "Hello? Grandpa! I'm home, just got here, just met Hank. Oh," she looked at Henry, "Grandpa, I think I'm in love." Henry felt his face suffuse with colour and he smiled helplessly at her. "He is? That's fabulous! Wait'll I tell Mom. I haven't seen her yet. She'll call you right back, okay? Okay. Love you, Grandpa. Big kisses."
She clicked "end" and looked up at Henry, smiling. "Elijah's coming, Henry. Grandpa's over the moon with pleasure. Mom will be, too. She always had such a crush on him. Those eyes, you know."
They started walking toward the back garden, their hands lightly brushing. "She told me that she had a crush on my dad."
"On all the hobbits. And Viggo. And Orlando. Aunt Ali was your dad's, though. He was her first love, she used to say. He was a very cool guy."
Henry laughed. "He was, wasn't he. I'm so glad you think so."
They stood together on the back patio, the brilliant sun blinding Henry, the deep greens and marvelously vibrant flowers flaming around him. "Dad would have loved this," he murmured. "He loved LA."
Blessing squeezed his hand and smiled sadly at him, then tugged and led him out onto the turf, into the blazing sunshine that fell like a blow to the head. I'm dazzled, he thought. My father's death has pushed me into another life, one I had no idea existed.
He watched as Blessing and Lizzie greeted each other, winding their long arms around each other and kissing fondly, each with matching brown eyes and heartening smile, Sean's eyes and smile, and thought of his own mother and sister. How different they were. This is what his father had longed for in creating his family. Henry hoped he hadn't been too disappointed, and then remembered Sean telling him how much his father had loved Sian and him. And he knew Sean was right; Dad had loved them. Loved them still, enough to send them off on this adventure. Henry decided to call Sian again and somehow persuade her to come out her, to forgive their father and Sean, to forgive herself and start anew.
Besides, he thought as Blessing and Lizzie turned to him, still smiling, Sian needs to meet Blessing.
He stepped forward and took Blessing's hand. "I think this occasion calls for champagne," he said, and the women laughed, big American laughs that rocked the garden and filled Henry's heart.
They turned and went into the house, laughing still.
Posted May 31, 2007