Harry rapped his eagle head cane three times against the pitted table leg and with paternalistic glee said, “All right men, I have a surprise for you all.”
We had just finished another lavish Friday night dinner. Steven had grilled the ribeye steaks to medium rare perfection as always, accompanied with Peter’s roasted cauliflower and small signature pea shoot salad, and we were rounding out the meal with Harry’s favorite dessert, ice cream sundaes with homemade bourbon chocolate sauce.
“Boys, I’m not getting any younger,” declared Harry. Peter, William, Steven and Matthew raised a polite chorus of objections and Harry continued, “And I’ve thought long and hard about this and I want each of you to have something that is dear to me.”
“Oh God,” Matthew thought, “Let it be the Jasper Johns. I’ll sell it at Sotheby’s, buy a lot, build a house and have enough room for an office and a staff of eight; Matthew Jenkins Architect.”
Matthew looked around the dining room, with its stuffed to the gills bric-a-brac, some things worthless, some things worth millions and only items close at hand does the housekeeper bother to dust properly any more and thought, “What the hell, I’d be happy getting one those Goddamn need-to-wind every-fucking-day-of-the-week vintage Rolexes.”
Harry’s dead pharaoh’s hands loomed closer toward Matthew’s way. His pale boney fingers held out a clear plexiglass box, smaller than two soft-packs of cigarettes, filled with tiny white nautilus seashells.
With a proud declaration Harry said, “Matthew, here is my prized shell box. These shells I found when I was a young boy and they bought me such pleasure. I want you to have them now.”
Hiding his utter disbelief, Matthew searched quickly for words and energetically replied, “Thank you, Harry. This is much too special.”
Matthew thought, “If there isn’t a diamond in this thing or even a gift certificate to Starbucks, I am going to leave it under the sofa cushion in the front room with a nickel and a dime. “Oh that’s where it is! I was looking for it. Martha, thank you for finding it after all of these years!”
All the young men watched in masked horror as Harry doled out three goose feathers for Peter. “They were left on my pillow by Jenny, my favorite maid when I was eight.” And William graciously received a bag filled with smooth pond rocks and Steven hugged to his heart a dried leaf, frozen in death forever, in a small wooden frame.
With utter disbelief and disappointment Matthew ruminated on the situation, “What the fuck - Oh brother. It’s a toss-up, but Peter certainly deserves the Academy Award tonight that’s for sure, for those feathers.”
He politely pretended to listen to Harry while he reminisced about “when he went horseback riding with Jackie O,” and looked about the mid-century modern home filled like a full-packed Victorian-era closet before a garage sale.
Matthew thought, “I have to get out of this Norma Desmond dust catcher once and for all. If I stay here any longer I’ll probably do a William-Holden-either-way, by drinking too much to have a good time or land in a swimming pool Joe Gillis-style. What am I saying? I am getting the best clients through Harry, but I have to stand on my own two feet. I have to breakaway. I’m tossing these shells out of a moving car window tonight.”
“Matthew,” Harry asked, “Should our next trip be to China or Portugal?”
“Harry, I would love to visit China. So many new buildings to see, but what is the consensus?” Matthew thought, “Oh shit, I would love to go to China. After this trip I’ll just taper off.”
Matthew drifted back into his thoughts. “But who am to complain? How did we all get to here? Peter, Steven, William and I had all at one time been ‘a Harry’s boyfriend’ in our younger days and now we were like a fraternal order or more like a dysfunctional family. We aren’t even close and meet only for these Harry-events. Why do we stay? Our debt of gratitude was paid long ago. But it’s always the best to be the most fun group on a Mediterranean cruise and nothing can beat a dinner party with celebrities. We had each been so young when we had our turn, like lambs. And see how we have grown, Steven a set designer, Peter a first amendment lawyer, and William an orthopedic surgeon. Harry helped us with a little tuition and words of encouragement and those words we never got growing up.
But we did pay a price I suppose for the glamorous life. Peter brought around that cute Cambodian boy he was seeing. Harry took him upstairs before the main course. That poor boy must have thought he was going to be the next hot stuff boyfriend. Peter was sad and angry, but I’m sure he loved it when his former boyfriend came by the next day, expecting a graduation into a more upscale lifestyle, and he got to slam the door right into his face. "Tah-Tah! Not getting the keys here". We all have keys to the house. Sure it was sad for each of us to realize that we had been discarded for another, that’s life, but we endured without enmity, without jealously and that’s why, I suppose, we have been allowed to stay on all these years. But we all personally paid a price, too many and too embarrassing to mention.
The next morning the phone rang, William urgently whispered, “Matthew, were you coming to lunch today?”
“No, I was invited, but I have put myself on a deadline and I wasn’t planning on coming,” said Matthew.
After a quick puff off his Marlboro William replied, “Please come over as quickly as possible.”
Matthew didn’t ask why. If it was a burglar in the house, the butchest of the bunch was calling for immediate help. Or maybe the hot FedEx driver has been found in flagrante delicto. That’s interesting and a reason to hurry. “I’m leaving now.”
When Matthew arrived, the house seemed eerily still. There was no 70s disco blaring or NPR on the radio.
William said, “Mary, hold onto your cheese toast and brace yourself.”
Matthew followed William into the library, and there in a winged backed chair, sat Harry as stiff as a mannequin at Bendel’s.
“Holy shit!” said Matthew and as his eyes met Williams’s they looked at each other with a mixture of shock and excitement and at that very moment each knew what the other was thinking since they both were thinking the same thing at the same exact time as grins began to grow from ear to ear.
William blurted out, “I’ll call Peter and tell him to rent a U-haul. It’s 12 o’clock now, we only have until 7:00 pm to, “discover this at dinner”.
“No wait, you get Peter and I’ll phone Steven, they have to get the largest trucks available.” Matthew continued, “Is there a will?”
“Oh honey, you know there is probably a will and it is all going to some old-moneyed homophobe relative in some backwater yee haw land. Hello! I just got a bag of pond rocks. Let’s just take what we want and if its listed we can, ‘find it in the upstairs closet’ for them,” said William.
“But what about Martha? We have to fire her, like now, so that she won’t come snooping around,” exclaimed Matthew.
“You’re right, what if I phone her and say that she won’t be needed on Monday? And then phone her on Tuesday and let her know she won’t be needed on Wednesday. Phone her on Wednesday and tell her not to come for the rest of the week, but that she will get paid for the week anyway. I’ll do the same thing the following week and the next week if we have to and then we’ll let her know about Harry and that she won’t be needed any more and give her a fat check. Bye-bye! Sure we’ll let you know when the funeral is – not! If she knew he was in a state like this her whole family would be here hauling everything out,” said William.
“Yeah, bye-bye you-forgot-to-clean-this again,” said Matthew.
“Okay, and I have to find Harry’s cell phone and take it home with me and throw it in a pond or something so no one has her number. And we’ll change the locks today as a precaution so that Martha can’t come around and see what’s missing and introduce herself to the relatives,” said William.
William continued, “It’s Saturday, the people from the mortuary will come today and take Harry with them. We’ll give them a few numbers and they can inform the relatives. If Martha comes snooping around on Monday I’ll be here to halt her entry, but I don’t think she’ll come on an off day.”
Peter and Steven drove in two 24-foot long rental trucks, anything bigger would not have fit in anyone’s yard and they had decided to keep everything in the trucks until the will was read and then divide.
All manner of nice things were removed. It wasn’t hard to discern the good from the horribly bad. Lalique vases were wrapped in linen sheets. Chippendale and Hepplewhite, Eames and Rietveld furniture made the cut. Everything Ikea was on it's last legs, but were “ready for the relatives to take.” The only words uttered were, “Do you want this?” “Okay.” “Are you sure? I don’t think that it’s real.” And,“Do you think he put this in the will? Oh yeah, whatever.” “Let’s just take it.”
The only objection came when they found cash. They found $10,000 between the pages of Edmund White’s, “The Farewell Symphony”. But it was quickly resolved when Peter said that he would gladly give up the three white goose feathers that he received for a cut of $2500 and everyone followed suit to be a good sport.
When the trucks were full they looked around and saw for the first time how magnificent the house truly was. It looked perfect. One painting above the fireplace from S&H Green Stamps in the style of Rembrandt, a few knick-knacks here and there and it was an absolutely tasteful abode.
“Does anyone want a car?” asked Steven.
There were no takers for the Mini Cooper, that no one ever liked, or the Prius. It just wasn’t worth keeping in a garage or transferring ownership.
“I think we should take a vote,” said Matthew. “Only one of us should phone the mortuary and be here and I’m a terrible actor, I’ll mess up.”
As a good sport, William volunteered and they all decided that he should also be the only one to meet with the family since being a surgeon he could break into medical monotonous gibberish to avoid their inquiries.
It did turn out to be true, a few lucky relatives from out of town were willed the house and it’s contents, but since there wasn’t a list of contents they got what they got. The sale of the house itself made the front page of the Sunday real estate section and sold over the asking price so they were very happy.
And the men who laughed at his jokes and cared about him when he was alive were given the Mini Cooper, that no one really liked, and the Prius to sell and share the profits.
They had waited for the will to be read to finally divvy up the contents of the trucks. Some got more than others, but everyone got what they wanted, whoever wanted it more got it without a fuss so it truly was equally divided. And everyone gave William a little more for enduring the out-of-town relatives, “Oh no, I don’t have AIDS, but thank you very much for asking.” Wishing to retort, “I know you are stupid, but do you have to act so stupid? Don’t put your stupid on me.”
All of the men attended the funeral. The ceremony was open casket. Harry looked great, “so alive” in a Paul Smith suit.
And when no one was looking, Peter place three feathers, pond rocks, a dead leaf in a frame and seashells by his side to keep him company on his journey. Destination a toss-up.
And although they were never a close bunch before Harry’s death, they did not bid each other farewell after the haul was divided. Their circle of friendship grew to be more like fond brothers and they would meet every so often. Matthew realized that they did indeed enjoy each others company and they would open the meal with a toast made to Harry.