Rhythm

by

John Terry Moore
 

CHAPTER 46

“Of course,” the Dean sighed, “there is no such thing as a perfect world.  This group has been visited by tragedy, and great personal sadness.  Two divorces and a shocking fatal accident.  But let’s not focus on negativity today, because as I hinted at earlier, I believe today’s gathering believe it or not, to be the most important in our history together, bar none.”  The President sat up in his seat, exchanging glances with Praveen.  Margaret never exaggerated about anything as close to her heart as this was; the rowing group and her life’s work.  Praveen read his mind, and the hand came across and interlocked with his fingers. 

“My friends,” the Dean went on, “we come now to an important presentation which is momentous, to say the least.  Then I suggest we break for lunch because I don’t think you will want to hear much more from me today.  I trust, however, that no one drives home tonight; because there will be so much to celebrate.  “Elizabeth and Claire,” she said softly, “over to you.”  Lance and Angelo smiled at each other, their kids draped around them.  Lance caught Patrick’s eye, who smiled back and nodded, obviously understanding.  Quickly, he passed Billy and Tommy over to Maurie and Will, then pulled Adam closer.  Adam looked confused, as he thought he would.  “What’s goin’ on?” he said.  “Just cuddle up to me,” Patrick grinned.  “You’ll need this,” he said, handing Adam a fresh handkerchief. 

“Why, have I got a bogey hanging out or something?” 

“No darling, but how about we swap places tonight?”  Adam forgot temporarily about the events about to play out in front of them.  Patrick always knew what he needed, sexually and in every other way in their life together.  Despite being a hard-working and focussed parent, business partner and international sporting icon, Patrick had always put him first, Adam realised.  And for the last few days he’d felt really sooky; ----- occasionally he tired of the macho image that came with the territory as a farmer and businessman, and Patrick sensed it.  They would put the kids down early and go to bed soon after themselves.  And Patrick would take over in the bedroom; making love to him, balancing out that other need he had, so their lovemaking and their life was totally fulfilling.  Patrick’s arm went around his shoulder and despite the warm day, Adam cuddled in next to him.  Darcy was also puzzled, and whispered to Jacob that ‘something was going on.’  Jacob was mystified also but not surprised.  The moment the Dean had mentioned that Elizabeth and Claire were about to do a ‘presentation’, his greatest suspicions were realised. 

“Stephen and Andrew,” he whispered to Darcy. 

“What?” Darcy said, even more confused.  Jacob looked across at Patrick and shrugged his shoulders; and Patrick laughed.  Adam and Darcy were probably the two most romantic souls in the whole group, but both were equally stupid when it came to identifying the same trait in others!  Still, Stephen and Andrew had always been seen around together, even when both of them had wives.  It was quite obvious they were the only parents the girls had ever known; so particularly since Andrew’s divorce, it was natural they should always be seen together.  As with Patrick and Jacob, Peter was usually faster on the uptake than Richard, but not this time.  Richard had sensed long ago that he and Stephen had many more similarities in their background than was first thought.  He pulled Peter even closer to him.  “It’s Stephen and Andrew, don’t cha reckon?” he said seriously.  “Jeez I hope so,” he said, replying to his own question.  “What a bastard of a life they’ve both had up ’til now.” 

The lights dimmed theatrically; and a soft spot light focussed on the Wu table. 

It was quite dark at the edge of the room; and Andrew frowned; there appeared to be some more people moving into the room, over against the far wall, just out of range of the lighting.  He realised this presentation thing had something to do with their table because Lizzie and Claire were involved.  ‘So nice of the Dean to pick them for her little show,’ he thought.  Elizabeth and Claire went around the table to their father, who handed them an envelope; a very large and colourful envelope.  Then they started giggling, running around the end of the table towards him, and he suddenly realised he was also to be involved in the presentation, whatever it was!  He felt two hundred pairs of eyes focussed on their table; little did he know that there was a monitor outside the room as well, for those who couldn’t be accommodated inside.  And he also failed to notice a second screen behind the Dean, who was still standing next to the podium. 

Lizzie and Claire ran up to him, each holding onto the envelope with grim determination.  “Daddy-mum,” they shouted.  “Dad said we have to give this to you.” 

“And you have to open it now,” Lizzie said, “while we wait.” 

“Then we have to tell dad what your answer is,” Claire said, finding more volume than was really necessary.  Andrew looked across the table at an impassive Stephen, a hint of a smile on his lips, but very serious, nonetheless.  He felt his throat constrict as his brain tried to process all the information.  But first he had to tell the girls how wonderful they were, how in front of all these people, they had kept their cool.  No doubt trained by their father, he grinned.  “I think you two are the most amazing little princesses,” he said, “and that’s pretty good stuff when there are so many other princesses around here on a day like today.  And queens.” 

His remarks found the spot and Maurie led the laughter.  “So open it daddy-mum,” said Lizzie, ever the practical one, the organised one.  Claire just climbed on his knee for a cuddle.  He sighed; “You’ll have to hop down possum,” he said, “so I can use both hands to open this thing.”  Finally, the stiff cardboard gave way, and he pulled the card out, with the short message in beautiful calligraphy.  The room watched as he dropped his head into his hands, gob smacked.  He looked up, and stared across the table at his partner.  “You’re a bugger, you know that, don’t you,” he smiled.  Stephen just grinned at him.  It was Claire that brought everyone back to earth again.  “Daddy-mum,” she pouted; “you’ve got to give dad an answer!”  There was a titter from the room which stopped as Andrew gathered the girls closer.  Speaking in a firm voice, he said “Well yes, tell dad the answer is yes, and that I would be most honoured.”  The girls just stood there as Stephen got to his feet.  “Dad,” they yelled together across the table, “daddy-mum said yes, and he’s mos’ honoured!” 

Andrew had always admired the way Stephen moved; for a big, solid fellow he could run like the wind; move so quickly.  And this was no exception.  He followed the same path the girls had taken; and ran around the end of the table.  To Andrew it seemed to all happen in slow motion; he was just getting to his feet when he arrived, a huge grin all over his face, lifting him fully upright then slipping his arms around him, the familiar and exciting scent of him, pressed up against him.  All he could see were the eyes, sparkling, and they lost themselves in each other, a long, lingering kiss in front of two hundred people!  Not that he cared, Andrew thought, this is just so good.  So this was a public declaration, in front of their closest and most loyal friends.  Most of whom had no idea that they were even a couple.  Stephen leaned back and smiled.  “Thank you for saying yes,” he said simply, and they cuddled again. 

“Thank you for asking me.” 

“Kiss for us too?” Claire enquired and she and Lizzie somehow flew into their arms, excited and understanding much more than most little girls because their father had told them what he intended to do.  And remarkably, they had kept the secret!  As had Linda, who was now walking over, and had also been a willing party.  The stunned silence suddenly came to an end.  Lance pumped the air with his fist.  “Yes,” he roared, “at last!”  Half-dragging and half-carrying their children, they ran over, embracing Stephen and Andrew as the place erupted.  The exuberance and the loyalty was just the same as twelve years ago, the Dean decided.  For once in his life Adam understood.  As did Darcy.  They all ran over; but the remainder of the crowd held back, without being asked, until Adam, Patrick and the Eight had all offered their congratulations first.  Andrew relaxed for minute, feeling, well, a little emotional.  A quiet voice he knew well came from the direction of the table where Linda was sitting.  “Uncle Sin,” he breathed, “and Harry!” 

“Your husband-to-be thought of everything,” Harry laughed, “we are so excited.  We followed you out here two days later.  It was a secret because he wanted everyone you both loved to all be here together.  On the one day.  There are some more people you know from Singapore here also, Andrew,” Sin smiled.  “Look over there.”  Stephen walked over with a worried look on his face.  “I hope you’re not upset,” he whispered in his ear.  “Stephen, they’re the kids grandparents and our business partners!  It’s the other part of the family, for Christ’s sake!  It’s never worried me that they’re your late wife’s parents!  We’ve all moved on from that years ago, as you know.  The reason I worked so hard in Singapore to reconcile the family, was to give Lizzie and Claire their grandparents back!  But what happened on the way through is that they’ve actually helped replace the family that I lost.  So I’m actually really chuffed they were committed enough to come all this way, just for us.” 

Eddie and Angela Chin stood there; embarrassment etched on their faces, despite the assurances of Sin, Harry and Linda.  Andrew walked over to them and shook their hands; their Asian reticence protecting them from closer scrutiny.  “Will you two please relax,” Andrew grinned.  “Thank you for coming all this way,” he smiled.  “I appreciate that so much.  Particularly when the last time you saw all these people was at your daughter’s funeral.  I can’t believe how you have been so very brave and very supportive of me to be here today.  But that simply reinforces what I feel for you both.  Because my own family was homophobic and my mother passed away before she could repair the emotional damage.  So you have become my parents, now, along with Linda.”  Eddie nodded his head vigorously, understanding.  “And you’ll have to do it all again shortly when we get married,” he laughed. 

“Pa!” screamed Claire from fifty metres away, returning from the buffet table where Angelo had taken them. 

“Other Gran,” shouted Lizzie, unladylike in her excitement.  Stephen came over and slipped his arm around his waist, watching their children innocently undo years of public shame and despair, preparing them all for what lay ahead. 

*****

The Dean wasn’t finished yet; she made that perfectly clear.  Everyone had eaten well; the buffet was resplendent and a few glasses of wine helped relax everyone.  And there was another diversion planned before the book launch resumed.  There was a roar of a diesel engine outside, and Patrick shepherded everyone towards the door.  A large four-wheel drive tractor was making its way towards the building, with a trailer hitched on behind.  Christmas was just a few weeks away so Adam and Patrick had decided there should be an early visit from Santa Claus, who was driving the tractor.  With a trailer load of presents for the kids.  “Look guys,” Patrick said to his sons, “Santa Claus!  I wonder if he’s got something for you two?”  But that was the least of their concerns. 

“He’s got our tractor,” Tommy said. 

“Yeah,” said Billy.  “Dad’ll tell him off, if he finds out!”  Adam pulled up outside and shut the engine down.  It was hot, the whiskers tickled, but the expression on the faces of his twin sons was priceless.  He began calling out the names of the children, one by one, as their parents brought them forward to receive their presents.  Finally Santa Claus called out, “Thomas Benson-Church and William Benson-Church.  Come on boys, Santa’s got a present for each of you.  Now Tommy, have you been a good boy this year?” asked Santa. 

“Yes, Mister Santa.” 

“And what about you, Billy?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Billy,” admonished Patrick.  “Say yes thank you Santa!” 

“Why’ve you got our tractor?” Tommy asked. 

“Yeah our dad’ll go mad,” Billy persisted. 

“Oh I did ask your dad and he said it was OK because I was helping out all these kids, and Christmas is nearly here.  He said I had to give your Patty-mum a kiss after I finished, what do you think?” 

“Piss off,” Billy said, scandalised. 

“Yeah, he’s a mongrel,” Tommy confirmed, dragging Patrick inside whilst the gathering held their sides and wiped their eyes.  ‘Ah,’ thought Margaret, watching the journalists.  ‘A bit of light relief, balances out the other stuff.  Nothing like kids to put everything back into perspective.  Anyone with issues with same-sex couples having children, should look at the kids themselves, these kids in particular.’ 

*****

It wasn’t Margaret Reeve who took over the podium as everyone settled back into their chairs.  It was her husband, Viktor.  He began by congratulating Stephen and Andrew, but chastised them for being so impatient.  The Dean stood next to him, looking smug.  “Only a few weeks more,” he said, “and I would have had breakfast in bed forever.”  Some of the family members wrinkled their bows, not understanding.  “Ten years ago at the Olympics, Margaret and I had a wager,” he explained.  “That all the rowing group were same-sex attracted, and that by 2030 they would be all in partnerships; ----- with each other!  She even named the couples correctly!  We were all flabbergasted at the time, but she’s achieved ten out of ten!”  There was laughter and applause for the Dean; and the journalists were speechless.  “If I won,” Viktor continued, “I was to get breakfast in bed, every day.  If she won, she was to get a case of Ballantine’s every New Year’s Day!  So here it is, dear,” he said, as Adam wheeled in a cardboard box on a furniture trolley.  “In advance so you can have a few toasts tonight.” 

There was much laughter, and more applause for the Dean.  She thanked everyone but she directed her thanks to the rowing group itself.  She became quite sentimental; that to have another wedding to attend was reward enough.  To have everyone well, focussed and happy was her real reward.

There was a montage of photographs and film clips running behind her; the last twelve years.  Whilst the only notable sporting achievement had been Adam and Patrick, The Eight had won a lot of races at a local level, and been tremendous participators in the process.  “But the real contribution of the group as a whole had been the example they all set out of the boat.  How they had stuck by each other through good and bad times; unprecedented loyalty. 

For the record,” she said, “and with Stephen and Andrew’s permission, I want to tell their story.  Because behind the celebration today there are some facts of life they want to share with you.  I know you’ve grasped many of the facts, but they appreciate there are some unanswered questions out there.  Because to them you are family and families do this sort of thing.  They want you to know why it this happened now and not years ago.  Why there are distinct similarities between themselves and Richard and Peter.”  Margaret Reeve told their story to a hushed room; skilfully weaving in the events of their individual lives, the background that caused so much pain in both cases down through the years.  How after Annette’s death they had become even closer, and how Andrew had always been a parent to Elizabeth and Claire.  And then after Andrew’s disastrous marriage breakdown and a temporary live-in arrangement with Stephen, how Andrew returned home and had entered therapy for some months.  “Some of us have it easy, don’t we?” she said.  “They both knew what they wanted but Andrew had to go on a little journey first.”  Adam and Darcy both wiped a tear away at the same time.  Then Jacob.  Richard looked so upset, and Peter cuddled him.  “In the front row are Cassie and Chris,” said Margaret, “Andrew’s partners in his business.  I think frankly that Cassie is in the wrong business.  She should be a marriage-broker!  Kept these two in touch, more or less, then arranged a meeting.  And it was lift-off, if you get my meaning,” she chortled.  Then she covered the extraordinary process brought about by Andrew in Singapore; the healing in the family, how the girls were reunited with their other grandparents and how the Chins and the Wu family were about to finally merge their business interests.  “That’s a familiar pattern in this group, and the sign of a partnership that’s really working,” she smiled.  “A pattern that has been present with each couple.  A gathering together of family resources so the generations blend together into a single unit.  I wish the remainder of the nation were similarly disposed, these lovely people set a stunning example to us all.”  She turned to the journalists and smiled generously.  They knew she was the worst enemy possible because she had the ear of the nation’s leaders.  And whilst she was too smart to come after them openly, it had been a long time since any of them had tried to call her bluff!   Back in 2020, before the Olympics, some smartasses looking for a story that wasn’t there, tried to discredit Adam and Patrick Benson-Church.  Not only did it rebound on them, but Adam and Patrick had eventually become the most newsworthy couple and the hottest property in the last twenty years!  And how she loved reminding them of the fact!  ‘The carrion’ she called them; ‘gorging on dead carcasses’ ---- feasting on figments of their imagination because they were too lazy to leave their comfortable desks and air conditioning, and do the research necessary to write a responsible piece of journalism!  “Are there any questions?” she purred at them. 

*****

Before they had a chance to answer, Michael Mitchell was on his feet.  With more salt than pepper in his hair these days, he was still a formidable presence in academia, and a respected international rowing administrator.  And the fatherly image that had so endeared him to so many undergraduates over the years, had continued to be a feature of his personality as he and Marian continued their activism in support of same-sex rights on an international scale.  A portion of his annual leave had always been spent overseas, usually in countries where the ICHP was already at work and where there was a need to protect young people against the combined scourge of religious delusion and the resultant homophobic attitudes.  Because the job was largely done in Australia, thanks in no small part to Adam, Patrick and The Eight.  And Tim O’Brien and Praveen before them.  Margaret Reeve loved Michael like a brother.  They would tease each other, play jokes on each other but were joined at the hip when it came to same-sex issues, and regarded themselves as ‘parents’ of the rowing group.  Margaret noticed, as they all grew older, that Michael grew even more passionate about this work; it had begun with his brother-in-law Neil’, now married to his partner James.  But Michael was speaking now, and Margaret had to blink her eyes bring herself back to the present and focus on Michael’s question.  “Sorry, Michael, what was your question?” 

“Margaret I simply asked, what about the coxswain?” 

“Coxswain?” said the Dean, wrinkling her brow and appearing uncharacteristically slow on the uptake for once.  She looked out across the group; and knew something was amiss.  She noticed some people behind where Michael was standing, but the damned lights were turned down so their identity was a mystery.  And suddenly she just knew Michael was winding her up!  “OK Michael, so the coxswain steers a racing shell, right?” 

“Right Margaret.  And who was The Eight’s coxswain all those years ago?” 

“Oh, Julian, of course, your son.” 

“Well done Margaret,” Michael smiled.  “And you will remember that Julian went to London to do his Masters Degree.”  The Dean just nodded.  “Well he’s back in Australia, Margaret,” he said smiling proudly.  Julian walked forward.  Still a small build, but he obviously had spent some time weight training, because his physique was extraordinary.  He literally bounced as he walked along, stopping just short of where the Dean was standing.  He stepped closer, pecking her on the cheek.  “Lovely to catch up again, madam,” he said.  He turned and smiled, not at his father, but at the figure behind Michael and to one side of him.  Julian beckoned with his finger, and a tall, lanky, very English-looking fellow walked over, pushing a mop of fair hair out of his eyes.  He took Julian’s hand shyly and they both smiled at the Dean.  “So Margaret, Julian has come home to settle down in Australia.  With his partner Paul.  And I’ve just checked with Stephen and Andrew; they will have the Benson-Church chapel in the morning, of the first Saturday in March, and Julian and Paul will have it in the afternoon.  So we can be sure that all our family are gathered together at once.  Because everyone in this room is the same family, isn’t it Margaret, your family and my family.”  The Dean held on to the edge of the podium, and the look on her face said it all.  “Margaret,” he continued, “this wasn’t originally planned because Marian and I didn’t know about any of this until a few days ago.  Julian is the best son anyone could have, and we have always been close.  But Marian and I didn’t even realise he was dating a man until they rang us from London!” 

The place erupted with mirth, and there was spontaneous applause.  It faded as Michael walked over to the Dean and pointed to the movie footage running behind the podium; taken at the row-past the day after graduation.  “You said at the time Margaret,” Michael smiled, “that The Eight had taken on the same rhythm that Adam and Patrick had perfected through their partnership.  And you remarked at how beautiful it was to watch.  Complete harmony.”  Michael turned and looked at the Dean, who was smiling again in her knowing way.  “It’s a compelling argument, Margaret, genetics versus environment.  But I like your mother’s practical ideas best, of growing people, no matter what age group, through example.  That’s what really happened here, wasn’t it.  Forget sexuality.  Forget genetic pathways.  Forget socio-economic models.  Just focus on people loving each other and the rest is simple.  That’s how Adam and Patrick fell into such a beautiful rhythm, because they fell in love with each other.  And everyone else followed. 

“Yes, my dear friend,” she replied, “just like Adam and Patrick, they all followed the rhythm of life.” 

THE END