Something Beautiful (31 page)

"You don't need any of them," Gavin said. "You don't need anybody but me." Gavin draped himself over Dune's back and kissed his neck, and that didn't matter at all.

Chapter Eighteen

The phone call came early one March morning, before eight, and Dune lunged for the phone before it could wake Gavin. "Hello?" he whispered.

"Dune! It's Laird. Is Gavin there?"

"Yes." He looked at Gavin, who was frowning in his sleep. "But he's sleeping."

"Well, wake him up! I have news for him. He's an uncle!"

"Oh," Dune said and took the phone away from his ear. He touched Gavin's shoulder lightly, surprised at the lack of thrill he felt at the news.
Your friends just had a baby,
he thought,
you should at least try to feel happy for them.
He touched Gavin's shoulder again. "Gavin. Wake up. It's your brother."

Gavin grunted and opened his eyes, still frowning as he sat up and took the phone. "What," he said flatly and listened for a few minutes, rubbing his eyes. "What makes you think I'd want to do that?" He rolled his eyes and made a "talk talk talk" hand motion to Dune. "Call me again when the kid's more than a bologna loaf," he said and hung up the phone.

Dune said nothing, looking down at his hands, and Gavin said, "Oh, don't tell me you want to go see the kid."

"Yes, I do," Dune said as evenly as he could.

"You are so fucking sentimental. Who cares? She'll be around for the next eighteen years."

"They had a girl?" He looked at Gavin, who laughed.

"They had a girl. Another whining, smelly baby in the world. So fucking what. You have more important things to do."

Like what?
Dune thought, but figured that out when Gavin grabbed his face and began kissing him. "You don't need to go fawn over a baby," Gavin whispered to him and turned him onto his stomach. "What do you need kids for? You've got me."

A few days later Dune went to the Rigbys' bookstore to see if he could get any news about Tristan. Mrs. Rigby had pictures of a pink and wrinkly baby, and Tristan looking exhausted but triumphant, and Laird looking proud and overwhelmed.

"They're thinking of naming her Thomasina, after Laird's grandfather," she told Dune. "They're home now. I'd call before you visit -- those first few weeks are exhausting." She paused. "Tristan hoped to see you at the hospital."

"I couldn't get away," Dune said and tried not to read too much into the puzzled, hurt little grimace that crossed Mrs. Rigby's face.

He thought about calling Tristan to explain, but every time he picked up the phone something stopped him -- mostly a feeling of,
She's got plenty of friends and family to look after her, she doesn't need to hear from me.

***

"Mrs. Rigby said he looks terrible," Leo said bluntly over brunch one Sunday in late March. "And I know he's unhappy."

Micah had almost not accepted the weekly invitation, but he missed Leo -- and Stuart had scolded him, "Just because Dune hurt you doesn't mean you have to give up the rest of your friends, too." He was glad, now, that he'd come -- he'd missed everyone more than he'd realized, and things had been going on that he'd had no idea about.

Dune was in trouble. It was hard to put a finger on, Ocean said, but clearly it was Gavin's fault. "Something he's telling him, something he's convinced him of -- it's not our Dune."

"It's hardly even a shell of our Dune," Frances said softly, and Ocean squeezed her hand.

Stuart sipped his coffee and adding a bit of cream, said, "Gavin's not looking after him, and he's not looking after himself. We need to stage some sort of intervention."

"He's not doing drugs," Frances said, horrified.

"No," Stuart said, "but that may be next if he gets low enough."

"So what do we do?" Micah said quietly, clutching the champagne flute filled with cranberry juice. "How do we help him?"

"We get him away from Gavin," said Leo.

"How?" said Ocean. "Dune's a grown man. We can't pick him up and carry him away, and we can't appeal to reason if he won't talk to anyone."

"We convince him he needs to leave," Stuart said, and looked directly at Micah.

Micah dropped his eyes and drank his juice. "If he's not talking to any of you he won't talk to me."

"Have you talked to him lately?" Stuart said gently.

"No. I haven't wanted to. He didn't -- he doesn't --" He drank more juice.

"I think," Stuart said, "a man in his situation would find it far easier to listen to a friend than to his parents. Particularly a friend who cares for him so deeply."

Micah nodded without looking up. "But what do I say?"

"Tell him to come home," Frances said.

"Tell him we love him," said Ocean.

"Tell him you love him," said Leo softly.

Stuart said, "Tell him the truth."

"Okay," Micah said, and after they had eaten and the dishes were cleaned Micah drove to Russian Hill. He parked the car near Dune's building and sat for a few minutes, biting his thumbnail and wondering how the hell to go about this, and then closed his eyes and bowed his head a moment, thinking as hard as he could,
Help me help, Dune. Please. If I've ever done anything good in my life, this is it. Please. Help me.

He got out of the car, took the stairs to Dune's loft, and rang his buzzer. No one answered for five minutes, for nearly ten, and Micah was about to give up when the door opened to reveal a sleepy-looking Dune.

Sleepy and sick,
Micah thought; Dune's cheekbones stood out starkly in his face, the sheen was gone from his hair and the gold from his skin. A hank of hair hung over his face, obscuring one side. "Hey," Dune said softly, and almost sounded pleased to see him.

"Hi," Micah said and tried not to sound shocked. "Can I come in?"

"Oh -- yeah, okay." Dune stepped back to let him into the loft. "What are you doing here?"

"I just came from brunch at your dad's. Everybody's worried about you."

"Are they?" Dune said, his tone neutral, moving to the kitchen. He took out a bag of coffee beans from the pantry. "Coffee?"

"Yes, please. Are you alone?"

"He's asleep."

No need in asking which "he." Micah said, "All right. Okay. I've been sent as a delegate from everybody who cares about you to say that we miss you. We want you back. We love you."

Dune turned on the coffee grinder and watched the beans, expressionless. Micah climbed up onto a stool at the bar and watched him.

"Well?" he said when the grinder shut off.

Dune poured the grounds into the coffee maker, letting his hair fall in front of his face as he bent his head. "A delegate, huh?"

"Yes. A representative. And if this doesn't work we'll try an intervention, and if that doesn't work we're resorting to kidnapping."

"And if that doesn't work?" Dune said softly.

"Bribery with cookies? I don't know. We didn't plan ahead that far."

"Great," Dune muttered, and filled the water reservoir.

"We miss you."

"You mentioned that."

"Gavin's no good for you. He's cutting you off from your family and your friends. He's not taking care of you and he's certainly not inspiring you to look after yourself." The tumble of hair in front of Dune's face was worrying him, and Micah reached across the bar to push it back. Dune flinched and looked away, and Micah could see why once his hair was out of the way: Dune's left eye was bruised and there was a cut healing at the corner of his mouth. Micah dropped his hand. "And he's hitting you," he said in a voice he didn't bother to keep steady.

Dune combed his hair back in front of his face. "It's nothing. I fell."

"Oh, bullshit. Bull. Shit. He's hurting you and hiding you away and --"

"I tripped and fell down the stairs. I'm fine."

The bruise, the way Dune was holding himself so stiffly and moving without his usual grace -- Micah jumped off the stool and went to Dune and pulled up the pajama top without asking. Dune sighed and raised his arms, not bothering to cover the bruise across his ribs. Micah looked up at Dune, frowning. "Did he do this to you?"

"I fell," Dune said again, but didn't sound like he was trying to be convincing anymore.

Micah took a deep breath.
Screw turning the other cheek,
he thought, and said, "He's in there?" as he pointed to the bedroom and started walking toward it.

"Whatever you're thinking, stop it."

Micah said in a low voice, "I am stopping it," and threw open the bedroom door.

Gavin stirred and blinked at him. "What are you doing here?"

Micah crossed the room quickly, grabbed Gavin's T-shirt, and punched him hard in the nose. "Shit!" Gavin shouted, his hands flying to his nose as blood spurted over the dark green sheets.

"Does it make you feel like a man?" Micah roared at him. "Does it make you feel like a big, strong man?"

"What the fuck are you talking about, you little shit?" Gavin shouted back. "You broke my nose!"

"Good! Get up! Get up and get out!" He yanked back the sheets and threw the nearest shirt at Gavin. "Get out of here and never come back!"

"Dune!" Gavin shouted.

"I said get out!" Micah threw a pair of pants at Gavin. "Get dressed and get out!"

Blood still gushing down his face, Gavin fumbled into the shirt and pants. "This isn't over yet, asshole," he said thickly and pressed his bloody T-shirt to his nose. "Dune!"

Micah shoved him toward the front door. "You're not worthy of licking his boots," he told Gavin harshly and threw shoes and a jacket that looked like his at him, too. "Go away and never come back!"

"Dune!" Gavin shouted one more time, and then Micah slammed the door shut and locked it.

Micah turned around, panting, and saw Dune in the kitchen, whose eyes were wide and arms were crossed over his chest. Micah inhaled shakily, said, "I think I broke my hand," and began to weep.

Dune came to him and held him, kissed his forehead and whispered, "Shh, Micah. Shh."

"I'm no better than he is."

"No, baby, you're worth a thousand Gavins. A million."

"I've never hit anybody like that. My hand hurts."

"Let's get some ice on it," Dune said gently and drew him back to the kitchen. Micah struggled to regain control as Dune filled a dish towel with ice cubes and gently pressed it to his swelling knuckles. After a moment Dune said, "I've never seen anybody do anything like that."

Micah sniffled. "My dad -- there was a woman in our church who was really afraid of her husband, and when the husband wouldn't attend counseling my dad tried talking to them at their house. Dad brought me along -- I was about sixteen and I think he thought I'd be, I don't know, helpful somehow -- and the husband was, well. An ass. He backhanded the wife right in front of us and Dad -- wow, he lost his temper like I've never seen before. He picked the guy up and threw him out like he was a bouncer at last call. The family stayed with us for a while, and then she took the kids and lived with her parents, and we lost touch."

"Your dad's a good man," Dune said quietly.

"He's got his moments." He looked up at Dune. "Dunie." Dune met his gaze, solemn. "I thought if I didn't see you --" His voice started to shake again. "I thought if I didn't see you I'd stop wanting you -- and needing you -- and loving you." Dune pressed his lips together, his eyes full and dark. "But I didn't," Micah whispered. "I'm sorry."

Dune held Micah's face and kissed his forehead. "I have missed you so much," Dune whispered, and leaned their foreheads together.

"I've missed you, too," Micah said, and his eyes stung. "Come back to us, Dunie. We all miss you."

Dune looked at Micah a moment, then simply nodded and held onto Micah, burying his face in Micah's neck. It hit Micah then, how this mess had happened: somehow Gavin had convinced Dune his friends didn't want him anymore.