The Book of Samuel

CHAPTER SIX

Prelude to Battle

For Sam, the realization that his fathers were more than fathers wasn't sudden. Though he couldn't put a name to it, one day at age eight he realized that OD was a mathematician who happened to be his father. OD wasn't exactly distant, but he was often preoccupied. The realization unsettled Sam because of the contrast with how he saw his dad. Jerry was his father who also spent a lot of time making beautiful pieces of clay or metal. However, Sam felt that he was the center of Jerry's world.

Sam was replaying the latest conversation with OD at Stonehenge and the vague fear of a too-distant father had less of a hold now because OD had done something very difficult: he shared his past with his son.

The sudden jolt of being thrown forward against the seatbelt when Uncle North stopped suddenly for a pedestrian who had darted into the crosswalk against the light stopped his rumination, and he turned to look at Markie beside him. She was looking back at him with a small smile as they arrived at the drop-off point.

The music drowned conversation, and the floor of the club was already crowded when the contingent arrived. Markie grabbed Sam's hand as they moved through the entrance. Each of their little troupe was brash and shy in differing proportions. The quietest of them, JT was the boldest, the least constrained by worry about what others would think of him. Marshall, the most conventionally attractive, was the most concerned about revealing himself in an unguarded moment. The other two were somewhere between on the continuum.

Markie saw that Marshall's description was accurate. Many more boys than girls were on the floor. She glanced above to the catwalk where the DJs were programming dance- and electro-pop CDs and found her heart rate coming down because the scene was relaxed and friendly, and the place was brightly lighted.

JT waded into the crowd and soon was paired with a taller, slender, blond boy. Markie found herself pleased that JT didn't seem to have a problem dancing with a male partner. The girls she saw in the midst of the predominantly male crowd were dancing with boys and girls in about equal numbers.

She watched people reacting to Marshall; they reacted as she had at the beginning of the visit to Goldendale. Lights from battens suspended near the ceiling created a halo as they shown through his curly hair. Boys and girls stopped to look and then either set their sights on him or ruled themselves out because they thought they didn't have a chance.

JT and the blond boy had formed a group with another guy and three girls. None of them worried about how they looked to others or what their dancing implied. They just had fun even when they parodied grinding on one another. Everyone around them enjoyed the relative abandon of the dance floor.

JT looked over to Marshall and then whispered something to one of the boys in his group. The boy, in turn, pulled one of the girls to him and whispered in her ear. JT nodded to both of them, and the couple made its way to Marshall. The boy approached Marshall from behind and touched his shoulder. When Marshall turned, the boy, smiling, took his hand and inclined his head toward the dance floor in an invitation to dance. The boy shouted over the music, "Adam!"

Marshall thought the boy was probably fifteen or sixteen — no taller than Marshall, but less reedy, with short, dark hair and piercings along his right brow and both ears. He looked carefully at the boy, remembering why he was there, and nodded. "Marshall!" Marshall was a graceful and energetic dancer, and his dancing partner's eyes showed interest and curiosity.

Adam almost told Marshall that he was … beautiful … pretty … but then thought that this one might be tired of hearing things like that. The familiar excitation of brain and body took Marshall, and he felt quite comfortable until he sensed the girl. He was immediately aware that the girl was inserting herself into the dance he and Adam were doing, and he was almost immediately aware that she and Adam knew each other. Adam smiled at the girl and said to Marshall, "Eve!"

The girl was dark, both in complexion and hair color, curvy, and as attractive as Adam. Marshall's confusion was evident to Eve. As she and the boys formed a trio for the dance, she said, "You two look great together!"

Then the heavy percussion and synthesizers of the song ended, and a slower song began. This is weird, Marshall thought, wondering whom he would dance with now. He didn't like the prospect of choosing because the choice defined the dilemma that was producing some of his anxiety. The dilemma resolved itself when both Adam and Eve reached for him.

His mother and father had always told Marshall to trust his feelings, both of discomfort and of safety, while keeping his head about him. He had no feeling of discomfort in this situation despite his obvious doubt about whether or not Adam and Eve were their real names.

As couples around them swayed to the slower music, the three at first formed a little triangle, arms connecting them, on the floor and then a variety of sandwiches. When Marshall was between the other two, with Adam in front and Eve behind, he leaned his head back onto Eve's shoulder and, looking at the ceiling far above the floor, relaxed. Adam's hardness from top to bottom matching his own, and the feeling of Eve's breasts on his back were inseparable elements in the rightness he felt. He momentarily worried that the PDA police would interrupt them, but although people looked at them, no one commented or tried to break up the trio. Though he didn't think their dance overtly sexual, it certainly was at least subtly sexual.

Somewhere on the periphery of consciousness he thought that his partners must have done this before and somewhere just below consciousness, there was a recognition that three was a solution to his dilemma. He couldn't articulate the feeling yet, but the realization would become both comforting and bewildering.

When the song ended, Marshall regretted breaking physical contact with the others. Before the music cranked up again, Eve said quietly, "This suited you. You have no idea how special that makes you. Thanks for taking a bite of the apple."

Marshall nearly wore himself out dancing and smiling and feeling at home with Adam and Eve over the next couple of hours. JT had returned to Sam's and Markie's sides, happy to find them dancing together most of the time. Sam was about to suggest that they goose Marshall into dancing with some other people, but JT urged him to leave Marsh alone.

Marshall's happiness that night confirmed what JT and Vee had earlier speculated about the source of his dilemma — a dilemma about which Sam was completely unaware. In a family full of couples —heterosexual and gay — JT worried about how the family would handle Marsh's need for a triad, if that was his need.

When the time to leave came, Marshall exchanged contact information with Brian and Cassie, a.k.a. Adam and Eve. "If only you were a little older," Cassie whispered to Marshall. Brian told him, "Please, keep in touch. We really had fun dancing with you."

Marshall blushed at Cassie's comment and told Brian, "I will. I'm sure I'll have questions."

Outside, walking to where North would pick them up, Markie and Sam were holding hands. JT and Marshall walked behind them a little. "I started out with a boy, but I spent most of my time with girls," JT said to no one in particular.

"I danced with a couple of girls. I've never done that before. I had fun," Markie said to JT.

Sam added, "It's just nice that people are good with any combination. You get any data, Marsh?"

As they climbed into the Tribeca, Marsh said, "Yeah, I did." He didn't want to elaborate.

"Sounds like everyone had a good time," North said. "You do okay, Markie?"

"Sam and I danced a lot. It was good."

After winding down on the short trip back to the condo, four tired kids silently took the elevator to the top floor. When they were inside, Markie saw an older man she hadn't met. She judged he was probably Jim's age or maybe older. He was wiry, slender, and had thinning sandy hair. His face was all smile, and his eyes were full of light. The boys flew over and almost knocked the man over trying to hug him all at once. North introduced the man to Markie. "This is Frank Gerard, Markie." And then Markie to the man, "Frank, this is Sam's best friend, Markie."

In the midst of trying to remain upright, Gerard said to Markie. "I'm very happy to know you."

Markie knew right away that he was being honest. She thought that this was a man who enjoyed people. He didn't fit her notion of old men, but then neither did Sam's grandfather."

"You, too, Mr. Gerard."

"You should call me Frank. Otherwise, you'll never be able to get my attention."

Jonathan added, "Frank is a colleague of Jim's. They went to the same medical school — back when leeches were in vogue. Now, he's a gardener."

Frank scowled at Jonathan's ribbing. "Now you know why I like North better." He laughed. "I think you four should get some rest. I know that Vee is just waiting back there to grill you, Markie."

Markie had almost forgotten Vee, and she knew that Mr. Gerard — Frank — was right. Looking at her phone she saw that it was already tomorrow and hoped that they wouldn't leave too early for Goldendale. "See everyone in the morning." She walked back to the bedroom she was sharing with Vee and tried to enter quietly. Vee was in bed reading. The younger girl looked up.

"You survived."

"I had fun. I wonder if there are places like that in Pasadena."

"I'll bet Sam knows. So, not to be too blunt, but did my brother dance with anyone but you guys?"

"You should ask Marshall, but yes."

"Good night." Vee turned off the light on her nightstand and turned over. Markie went out to the bathroom and was asleep almost as she hit the bed.

#

After rising at a reasonable hour, if eight is a reasonable hour after being up until one, everyone walked to Fuller's on Broadway for breakfast. The summer morning in that brief part of the year when rain didn't bless Portland was bright and warm. Because no one was in a tearing hurry to get back to Goldendale, they didn't mind the wait at the diner. Markie loved the inside, with the long, snaking counter and no other seating. To get everyone in, they were seated as space opened, and the largest of their number to sit at any one place was three.

North and Jonathan gave everyone cash since Fuller's didn't take credit cards. Breakfast at Fuller's was old school and good, at least as far as the boys were concerned. Markie ended up with some French toast — too many carbs, but using homemade bread and a good maple syrup. She kept reminding herself: moderation, girl. She was thankful for the walk back, which let the heavier food settle.

They closed the condo and packed the car. Frank sat in the back row with Sam. Markie and Vee were in the rear middle row, and the other boys were in the row behind North and Jonathan. They crossed the Willamette and found their way to I-84 for the trip east and their home near Mt. Adams.

In the back row, Frank spent some time observing Sam, whom he had seen less of than other boys of Sam's generation. He knew that Sam had a greater burden than the others in figuring his parents out. He had previously formed the opinion that Sam was happy, socially adept, with a strong network of friends and acquaintances. He wondered, though, if trying to figure his Other Dad out didn't mentally exhaust the boy.

He felt sympathy for Sam's challenge. Frank, a professional, had never been able to predict Sam's father's course through life. Remembering the first few times he counseled Lucas at SMYRC, he had thought the boy might never be able to take care of himself.

Margaret Mead, for all her error, had been right that a village added value to childrearing. Lucas's village began with Tom and Jim, exceptional men on any account and exceptional gay men, as well. Two elders, Martin Juarez and Sam Marshall, had been key parts of Lucas's village. Frank was fond of Martin and detested Sam Marshall, but he had to admit that Marshall's effect on Lucas had been profound and mostly helpful, setting aside the financial windfall Lucas inherited. Frank felt that Lucas had developed excellent coping skills and had done exceptional work in his life, but he had the sense that Lucas was still psychologically injured in many ways.

Sam was deep in reflection when he heard, "Penny …"

He looked up at Frank, whom he knew to be one of the heroes of OD's life and whom he liked, "Pardon?"

"I was asking if you'd share what you were thinking."

Sam grimaced slightly, thinking for a few seconds, and then said, "Dreams."

"Well, you're not on a couch, but this will do. I have a deep interest in dreams and their use in our lives. If you're comfortable talking about them, I'd love to hear." He saw Sam draw a deep breath, as if the boy were about to exhale the explanation in a single breath.

"I see characters in stuff that Grampa wrote that I never read and was never published. How can that be? JG told me the people are representations of the five elements in Hindu myth. I've looked them up on the net, and I even have the colors right in the dreams. I don't see how I'd know that."

"Tell me the story of the dreams."

"We've all read Gyres, and somehow I end up with the time orb. I feel as if I've just gone through a door, and then one of the five-elements guys asks if I'm Kendall. I know where that part comes from. Uncle North was Kendall when Grampa first told the stories to him. Anyway, I try to explain that I'm not Kendall, but it's like they don't get it. They tell me that Kendall has a job to do, and then it's like they expect me to do it.

"So far all of them want me to keep some promise and repair a broken brotherhood. I have no idea how to do that. One of them told me I was a fool, but another one said I shouldn't really pay attention to that one. The thing is … I feel as if I have something important to do, and they're trying to get me to do it. The dreams end when I'm back in this gyre."

"Wow! Do the dreams wake you?"

"Oh, yeah. When I wake up, I'm usually sweating like one of the horses after a hard ride."

The car passed Troutdale and Cascade Locks, the coarse paving producing a loud drone as the tires pushed the car forward. Sam waited for Frank to say something, but Frank didn't.

Sam, of course, knew that Frank was a shrink and knew that he had helped OD a lot, but he hadn't spent much time with him. Sam liked the man. "So, what do you think? What do they mean?"

"I have no idea. You'll have to figure that out."

"I thought shrinks had a book that tells people what their dreams mean."

This one is more like his father than most people see. "Doesn't work like that. Sometimes cracking the code can take a long time."

Sam smiled. "You're not very helpful."

"Fair enough. Here's an observation or two. Do you know who Carl Jung was?"

"Yes. I mean I've heard about him. Collective unconsciousness, right? Dad told me about how he expressed some of Jung's ideas in his art."

"Right, but it's collective unconscious. When I work with people, I follow a perspective a lot like Jung's. He felt that all the people, and most of the objects in dreams, represent parts of the dreamer, and that if there's a job to do in a dream, the job belongs to the dreamer, both inside and outside the dream."

"But, I don't have brothers."

Frank looked to the front of the car where JT and Marshall were laughing and playing a game on one of their phones. "Really?"

"Oh. I suppose that's sort of true."

"I'm suggesting that the brothers in your dreams may be aspects of you, and that getting those aspects to live comfortably together might be a reasonable life's work."

"I'm not sure I get it, but I'll think about it."

"Here's the thing — for people without brain issues, dreams can be very helpful in solving problems. Maybe you're trying to help yourself rather than making things more difficult for yourself. Last advice: don't worry about the dreams too much."

"Thanks, I think."

Sam receded into reflection again, and Frank watched. Vee had overheard the conversation between snatches of conversation with Markie. She thought, Jung. I know what I have to read.

The rest of the eastward journey passed as these journeys usually did. Everyone in the car turned their attention to the landscape, and a little over an hour later they crossed the Columbia River and began the climb to Goldendale and what awaited them there.

#

While Vee and Markie spent the Sunday night at Jim's house with North and Annie, the boys were encamped at Turing House. After Jerry and Lucas were out of the way, one in his office contemplating the whiteboard and the other in bed reading, the boys discussed a potential campaign.

"Marshall, this won't work if you're not with us." JT was urging his cousin to cooperate or at least not to obstruct the plan.

"You know I think this is a bad idea."

Sam started on Marshall. "Okay, just help us a little. We'll do most of the work."

"You've seen the ads on those sites — a bunch of cock shots from guys looking to hook up."

Sam laughed and said as gently as he could, "No, I haven't, but you've obviously done some research."

"Oh, very cute, Sam."

"JT and I found one that's aimed more at dating and long-term relationships. It's called onegoodlove.com."

Marshall hesitated. "Let me see."

Sam quietly brought his MacBook downstairs and booted it. Marshall looked at the site's splash page, particularly the mosaic of faces next to the login section. "Doesn't look much different than the others to me."

JT told him in a very irritated tone, "Look at the FAQs. See?"

JT and Sam pointed Marshall to the question:

"You take a personality test so that you're matched with someone who's compatible."

"Let me guess. You're going to take the test for JG."

"No," JT answered with the confidence of adolescence, "We're going to take the test for him, and then we'll set up a meeting and get JG to come."

"Brilliant, JT. Who's going to want to come to Goldendale to meet a guy?"

Sam gave the sensible answer, at least from the adolescent point of view: "Are you crazy? JG's a catch. Our biggest problem is going to be picking someone from all the winners he'll attract."

His cousins' enthusiasm finally wore Marshall down. The scientific personality test was the clincher. Besides, he didn't want two straight guys selecting someone for his grandfather. "All right. I'm in."

#

In the morning, the boys were running around in their underwear, efficiently making breakfast for themselves and Sam's fathers. Jerry and Lucas were still abed, asleep, or at least the boys thought they were. A knock at the door stopped the preparations, and the boys looked at each other.

JT whispered, "Who could that be?"

Sam answered, "Only one way to find out." He walked over and opened the door, forgetting his lack of clothing and thinking that Vee and Markie might be there. When he opened the door, he found the young cop, the one OD had approached at the observatory. The man looked at him from head to toe, and he realized he was in his underwear and blushed. "Oh, sorry. We aren't dressed for company."

"Well, I'm not exactly company, and you're dressed fine for this time of the morning. Would you get your father — I mean Dr. Jansen?"

"I think he's still asleep. Can I help you?"

"No, I don't think you can. Let Dr. Jansen know I'm waiting in my car when he gets up."

"Come in, Jeff," Lucas said from the bottom of the staircase, and laughing, told the boys to get some clothes on.

As the boys ran upstairs, Sam shouted, "There's enough breakfast for … Jeff."

During breakfast, Jeff was reserved, and, for their part, the boys didn't ask the obvious questions. Lucas would have answered truthfully if they had asked.

When the boys were cleaning the kitchen, Jeff told Lucas, "I'm just fulfilling both your conditions. If you don't want to escort me, I'll just wander around for a bit and then head back to my hotel."

"Wander as much as you need to."

As Jeff was preparing to leave, Jerry came downstairs, and after kissing his husband, said, "Don't tell me. I missed breakfast."

Jeff smiled at the familiar intimacy, and before he ducked out the front door asked: "The visits have been canceled?"

"Postponed, except for the boy from the cancer center."

"When's he coming?"

"Tomorrow."

Chertov frowned, but said only, "I'd like to go with you to pick him up and see him safely here."

"My dad is getting him. I'll let him know you want to come along. You want to ride in the same car?"

"No, I'll follow in my van."

After the young agent left, Lucas told Jerry, "I'll make you breakfast before I tell Dad he's going to have an escort."

Chertov began his reconnaissance in the front yard. He was happy that only one driveway — and a long one at that — led to the house, and less happy that dirt roads paralleled the property on either side. Still, there was no cover for a sniper in front. The attack wouldn't happen there. Moving to the back of the house, he noted that the outbuildings could provide cover for a gunman, but farmhands were nearly always working around the buildings. If he were going to shoot, he would do so from one of the side roads, but farther out where a group of riders or a single rider on horseback would be an easy target.

Even these idiots would think about cover and escape. They fancied themselves soldiers and experts. Unfortunately for them, in Chertov they confronted the real thing, a baby-faced man who had killed in close-quarter battle and from long distance, not a gamer who thought that killing would be glorious fun. He walked the alfalfa fields behind the farmhouses, and in his mind the vegetation disappeared, and he saw clearly how the topography would join victim and assassin. In two hours he had identified the most likely location from which the attack would be launched. The question that vexed him was how many shooters would there be: one or two?

He would have to plan with the sheriff and the State Patrol for both possibilities. The timing of the attack was the greatest unknown. His partner and the local deputies were searching as they had time, but if they mounted a full-scale search, the quarry would disappear, and these people would remain hostages. Chertov's hope was that his partner, Kesh, would discover where the suspects were hiding and that he would be able to take them down. Now, at least, he felt confident that he knew where the idiots would try to mount the assault. After he concluded his assessment, he walked back to the front door and let Lucas know he was leaving.

Lucas told Jeff that he had talked with Jim and gave him the timetable for the trip to pick up Armin. "I appreciate what you're trying to do, Jeff."

"I dislike the use of fear as a weapon."

#

The Forester pulled up to Jim's house in the late morning followed by a white van, which with engine running, idled behind the Subaru as North, Annie, and their children walked out to the front porch. The ramp installed for Sam Marshall to the side of the walkway was ready. Jim unfolded his long frame from the small SUV and stretched, waving to the family. He walked in front of the Forester and around to the passenger door. He looked through the window for a moment before opening the door, and he helped a pale young man to stand beside him.

Marshall was intrigued when he looked at the boy, but not because he was overwhelmed by the pity that the rest his family was feeling. The boy was almost white in color, and his round, bald head sat atop such a slender foundation that Marshall wondered how the body could support it. More than any other impression, the roundness of the head and face, the flesh around the deep-blue eyes, which was dark and thus seeming sunken struck him; then the quiet smile rendered Marshall incapable of planning a response. He thought, He's almost a china doll.

Annie whispered to her son, "Go greet him, Marsh."

The van door opened, and Jeff Chertov stood without a jacket in the heat of the morning. Marshall immediately noticed the gun on the man's right hip and saw that the agent was scanning the front yard. He couldn't see the sub-machine gun with its mounted red-dot optic on the van's front seat. Instead of taking the porch steps, Marshall walked down the ramp. When he reached JG and Armin, he hugged his grandfather and then extended his hand to the boy. "I'm Marshall. Call me Marsh."

The boy looked up at Jim, who told him, "I think it's safe to touch Marshall, Armin."

The smooth, thin arm with the blue lines of veins clearly apparent under the pallor reached tentatively toward Marshall. Then, a whisper, "Armin."

Marshall found the eastern European accent exotic, and he was aware that simply touching another person outside the hospital was a pleasure for the boy. "I'll get your bag in a minute. Come, meet my sister and parents."

Armin slowly followed Sam up the ramp; he was happy that no one was making a big fuss over his pace and that no one was rushing to assist him. He hadn't been out of doors for a long time, and the heat helped him; he was always cold these days — and weary.

He knew that Jim was gay, and Jim had helped him talk to his mother and suggested that he not talk to his father about being gay. Something he sensed in Marshall caused Armin to wonder if the boy might be gay; maybe it was wishful thinking. By the time he got to the porch he was winded. The younger girl came up to him when he stopped on the level surface. She looked him over, and he didn't see one of the reactions he usually received.

"You'll do fine. I'm Annie-Violet, but everyone with a shred of decency calls me Vee. I won't shake your hand; Marsh is enough of a challenge to your immune system."

Had he the energy, Armin would have laughed as he saw Marshall glare at his sister. He had younger sisters, so he understood. "You are very funny, Vee."

As he met North and Annie, he looked between North and his son and nodded. Marshall ran back down the ramp and retrieved Armin's bag. As JG closed up the Forester, Marshall almost went over to Chertov, but he knew that the man wasn't here for social reasons and let him do his work. He and his grandfather went up to the house, taking the steps, in time to follow Armin and the others inside.

Inside, Annie told Armin, "You're going to be just another son and another brother while you're here. We didn't think you'd want to be running up and down the stairs all day, so we've made a sleeping area for you in the family room. We can close it off if you need to rest. The rest of the clan will be over to meet you later, and then you and the other kids can figure out what you'd like to do while you're here."

Calling her Annie as he had been instructed, Armin replied, "Thank you all. Just being out of the hospital makes me happy. Please, don't make a fuss. I'm not going to dry up and blow away."

Marshall took Armin's hand and led him to the family room, as North said, "Don't worry. You're just one of the pack."

Marshall let Armin sit and rest in the large leather chair in the family room. "I know you don't want to dwell on the cancer, but I want you to know I think it just sucks. Unless you want to talk about it, I'm not going to bring it up again, but I wouldn't mind listening if you need to talk about it. Is there anything in particular that you want to do while you're here?" Marshall asked.

Armin sat for a while, looking around the room and at Marshall, seeing something in him that lifted his inhibitions. Before Armin spoke, Marshall wondered if he had said the wrong thing.

"Very well, I'll play the 'C' card?"

Marshall face must have betrayed his surprise.

Armin's face alternated between a grin and tears, although he wasn't sobbing. The tears rolled down his swollen cheeks at odd intervals. "Are you gay?"

"Sort of. I think I can be attracted to boys and girls."

"What I'd like …," he hesitated, "what I'd like is having a boy just once hold me all night in bed."

To Marshall, this request was deeply moving — a request that were there more time might lead to something other than comfort.

#

After the rest of the family had come over to meet Armin and after they had left early in the evening, Marshall showed Armin the downstairs bathroom and asked, "Do you need any help?" Then his face burned as he thought about how the question must have sounded.

"I need to take a shower. Is that what you meant?"

Marshall saw that Armin was having a little joke at his expense. "No, but I would help with that if you wanted help."

"Thanks, but Jim already put my shower bench from the hospital in the tub."

"Okay then, I'm going to clean up upstairs, and then I'll join you in the family room."

In his own shower, Marshall tried to understand his reaction to Armin. The boy unsettled him, and he couldn't define the wellspring of his desire to make Armin's stay here perfect. Why did he ask to be held — by a boy? Marshall wondered if Armin had ever had sex or, because of his illness, if he could have sex.

Marshall knew he would be the boy to hold Armin all night, even though he wasn't fantasizing about sex with his new friend. He had no experience with infatuation or love or infatuation that led to love. A confused hormonal cascade was reacting to the upcoming night with Armin in a way that seemed to electrify his body and his mind. Most of all, he decided, he wanted to know Armin before he died, and he wanted Armin to have one wish fulfilled before he died.

After he washed his face, brushed his teeth, flossed, and pulled on shorts and a T-shirt, Marshall took the stairs back to the first floor. He found Armin, dressed in long, cotton sleeping pants and a long-sleeved, cotton T-shirt, downing a lot of pills. "You have to take that many pills every night?"

Armin looked up, and before he answered, Marshall saw that swallowing was an effort for him. After he choked the last pill down, he said with a little smile, "Not as many as I used to take."

Marshall took the visitor by his hand and led him to the family room, where a queen-size air mattress took the center of the floor. The windows, which at this time of year would usually be open, were closed. Marshall sat on the foot of the mattress and said, "I want to hold you tonight. I want to spend the night with you in bed."

Armin's smile was addictive. "I've never spent the night with anyone. This is what you do when you spend the night, no?"

"Yes. We listen to music and watch movies or just talk."

"Music and talk."

"What do you want to hear?"

"Impressionist, if you have any." He saw Marshall mulling a choice and thought maybe Marshall was like most American kids and listened only to rock or rap. "Debussy, Ravel, Satie?" he asked without much hope.

"How about Satie to start?"

"Perfect for talking, no?"

"Tomorrow I'll play one of his Gnossiennes on guitar for you."

Armin's smooth, round face was split by a broad smile, and Marshall could see the outline of what the boy's face might have looked like before he became ill. He put his iPhone in the speaker dock and started an album of Satie works by the group Danceries. The piano line was laconic and calming, but Marshall's heart wasn't calm.

Armin climbed under the covers, and Marshall lay on top of the covers, turning to face Armin who was on his back. Armin's hands were on his chest outside the light blanket, one atop the other. Marshall reached over to touch Armin's top hand. "I hope Vee's wrong, and I'm not going to get you sick."

"I don't care anymore. I've spent almost two years without touching other people, even my mother, except when she wears a gown, mask, and gloves. I know what Jim's decision to let me come here means and what it means that he'll let me touch you."

"What?"

"I can stop chemo, and I can just let it go."

Marshall couldn't think of anything to say. He knew what Armin's visit meant, too.

"So, you are how, bisexual?" Armin asked.

"I suppose, whatever that means."

"I thought you might be attracted to me. That's why I made my wish."

"I think I could be …"

Armin finished Marshall's sentence. "If we had enough time. No one else that I know of has ever thought of me that way."

"I can't explain the way I feel. I just … feel."

"Thanks for telling me."

Silence for a half-hour as the piano music played. Then, Armin said, "I'm so tired."

Marshall moved closer to Armin, and put his arm over the boy's chest and covered his side with his body so that his head was by the side of Armin's face. He just wanted to hold this weak boy up, to give him everything in life Marshall knew he would miss. He was worried that if he had a physical reaction to their closeness that Armin might feel his hard-on and tried to move away a little.

"Don't, please. Just hold me." Marshall kissed his cheek and listened to his breathing as Armin drifted into sleep.