So Let Us Rejoice

It had been a quiet evening, and after my friend Micajah left, I became nostalgic. I poured myself a snifter of brandy—my second of the night, but who was counting?—took down one of my college yearbooks, and thumbed through the pages until I found the photo I was looking for—myself and my two best friends taken the Halloween of Ron’s and my sophomore year. No one called us the Three Musketeers, but that was what we’d pretty much been back then. Our names were beneath the photo: Leo Rossi, Ron Edgerly, Micajah Autry. Ron insisted on calling his boyfriend “Cage,” and Micajah tolerated it with his usual good humor, whereas I called him by his given name, although that was mostly to tease Ron. Ron stood between us in that photo, dressed in tennis whites. He’d been a good player back then, but he’d done it for his parents, not himself, and hadn’t picked up a racket in the years since we’d graduated, at least not during the time we’d all roomed together. I stood on Ron’s right. I was class president and captain of the debate team, and I wore a cardigan and dark-framed glasses, not that the glasses were necessary. I just liked the way they made me look—one of my girlfriends had told me they’d given me a soulful expression. Micajah stood on Ron’s left, his arm around his boyfriend. He wore a lab coat and a stethoscope; he wasn’t really a good deal older than us, only a couple of years, those years spent as a medic in the military. I took a sip of brandy and thought about the events of the past. * * * * Ron was a freshman attending Enoch Poor High School in Cambridge, Massachusetts when I met him, a freshman myself who had just transferred at the start of the school year. It didn’t seem likely we’d become friends; we were too different. My family, which consisted of Mom, myself, and my three sisters, had moved to Cambridge for Mom’s new job. There was no dad—dads. We each had a different one, but that didn’t matter since we did fine without them. Ron’s family was at the other end of the spectrum. There was a father and mother, Ron, and two older sisters. The Edgerlys were one of the wealthiest families in the state, but you’d never know it from the way Ron acted. He was quiet and shy, and maybe he latched onto me since I was the exact opposite, extroverted and gregarious, able to get any girl if I made the effort. Not that he needed me to attract girls. They flocked to him, drawn not only because of his wealth and personality, but because he treated them all well, and those he couldn’t date—there was only one of him after all—settled for me. I didn’t mind; those girls realized quickly they’d gotten a good deal, we enjoyed our time together, and then remained friends when we parted ways. We graduated, me as valedictorian and Ron as salutatorian, and went on to Harvard, where I majored in English and Linguistics, and he worked toward a degree in Economics and Finance. We shared a dorm room, and I noticed he draped a tie over the doorknob, indicating he was entertaining a young lady, less and less. Well, I was doing the same, since our studies took a lot out of us. We talked about it and assured ourselves we’d get back into the swing of things soon. And during our sophomore year, we did, although not quite in the way I’d imagined. He met and became fascinated with Micajah Autry, a medical student who dormed on the other side of campus. “He’s…he’s stunning, Leo. And he’s a senior!” I gave Ron a look. “You’re straight, aren’t you?” He, in turn, looked abashed. “I…uh…might have been wrong about that.” “Are you saying you’re bi?” “I guess. Look, Leo, you’ve got to keep this to yourself. If my parents ever found out…” “All right, I promise.” That was what best friend’s did, wasn’t it? “Great! Now I want you to meet Cage. I’ll call him and see when would be a good time.” “Cage?” “I like that so much better than Micajah, don’t you? I don’t know what his parents were thinking to give him a name like that. It’s so old-fashioned. And he’s a medical student.” Ron laughed, almost giddy. “My mother will be so happy. She’s always after my sisters to marry a doctor.” “Wait, marry?” “Just a figure of speech. When I tell Mom, maybe she won’t be too upset he’s a guy.” “Ron…” “And he’s gorgeous! He’s got this head of wavy light-brown hair and the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen.” “Bluer than mine?” I teased. I really was pleased he seemed so happy, even if he was simply bi-curious. “Oh, you.” He blushed, but I hadn’t seen him look this happy in all the time I’d known him. So he made reservations and we went to dinner, and I’d liked Micajah from the moment I met him, although it was strictly in a platonic manner, since, unlike Ron, I had no doubt about my s****l orientation. I loved women in all their many permutations. Micajah and I both came from the same social and financial strata—we were strictly on the low side of middle class—while Ron’s family had more money than God. He was a good guy, though, and never flaunted his wealth or connections. I never saw anyone as in love as Micajah was with Ron, and before long, they were a couple. I was happy for them, and truthfully, a little envious. I played the field, but the girls I dated never lasted longer than a few months at best, whereas my friends seemed in it for the long haul. After Ron and I got our master’s, we rented a house together with Micajah. Ron had his MBA and had taken a position in a prestigious brokerage firm in Boston, I worked on my doctorate, while Micajah, after doing rotations in emergency medicine and then general surgery, decided to specialize in cardiology. The next few years were busy and happy, although every once in a while I found myself wondering what it would be like to have a relationship comparable to theirs. However, it was only once in a while. Like a bee, I preferred flitting from flower to flower. But as time passed and Micajah became more and more involved in his specialty, the less he was at home. I could see Ron becoming despondent…almost retreating into his shell—a repetition of his occasional behavior in high school, so I decided to drop a word in Micajah’s ear. I found him in the kitchen nuking a cup of coffee from that morning. “Rough day?” He gave a tired smile and raised his mug to his lips, and I knew whatever challenges he’d faced, he’d overcome them, hopefully successfully. I hated like hell what I had to tell him, but it had to be done. I began speaking. “Ron’s becoming depressed.” “What?” “He’s questioning your commitment to him, to your relationship—” His eyes widened. “Are you serious?” “As a heart attack, man.” “Dammit.” He turned pale, and I caught the mug before it fell from his grip. “I can’t miss this seminar.” He was about to leave for Logan to catch his flight to Rochester, Minn. The Mayo Clinic was offering it, and it was important to his career. “Think about it, okay?” “I will. Thanks, Leo. You’re a real friend.” As it turned out, I wasn’t as much of a friend as I’d intended to be, not to either of them. I was working extra hours in order to finish my dissertation in preparation of defending it, so I was rarely at home and had no idea what was going on there. Two days before Micajah was supposed to come home, he called me. “I’m cutting short my stay here. Can you pick me up? I’ll be flying in to Logan at five.” “That’s great. I’ll be there.” “Thanks, Leo. And don’t tell Ron, okay? I’ve got something important to talk to him about, and I want to surprise him.” “You’ve got it, buddy.” Air travel being what it was, Micajah’s flight arrived forty-five minutes late, but that was okay. I’d been tracking it, and I was there in time to meet him. “So can you tell me what the surprise is?” I asked once I’d gotten his suitcase in the trunk and we’d both buckled up. I was hoping it would be a proposal. And I would get to be best man—whether to Ron or to Micajah made no difference. He looked serious. “I met someone at the seminar—” “You weren’t cheating on Ron, were you?” “What? Of course not! I’d never—why would you even think such a thing?” I put the car in drive and left the airport. “You said you met someone.” Why had my mind gone directly to that? “Another doctor.” “You can’t cheat with a doctor?” He bit back a laugh. “I’m sorry, I’d better explain. This doctor works in hospice, but he used to be a cardiologist.” “So you got to talking shop?” “In a manner of speaking. He was as driven back then as I am now, and between what we talked about and what you told me before I left, I came to the conclusion I’d better cut back or I’ll lose Ron.” “So that’s what you’re going to do?” “Yes. You know how Ron’s always wanted to vacation on the French Riviera? Well, I booked a flight for us while I was in Minnesota, and as soon as we get home, I plan to tell him we’re flying out next week. We’ll be spending a month there.” “I…you’re the best boyfriend, Micajah.” I risked a glance at him, sending him an approving grin. “I try.” He grinned back at me. “Do you think Ron will like it?” “I don’t doubt it for an instant.” I got my eyes on the road again. A month in France. But that was going to cost him a fortune, and I knew he’d been stashing away every dollar he could spare in hopes of opening his own practice. “I can’t apologize enough for having jumped to conclusions.” “Don’t worry about it. Is Ron home?” “He was when I left.” “You didn’t tell him I was coming home early, did you?” “No. I just told him I had some work I had to catch up on. I’ll leave you at the house and give you guys some quality together time.” I pulled up at the curb and pressed the button on the fob that opened the trunk, then waited for Micajah to gather up his suitcase and start up the front walk. I lowered the passenger window. “Micajah! Call me when it’s safe to come home.” My friend gave me an enthusiastic thumbs-up, then waved, unlocked the door, and entered the house. I put the car in drive and headed for the private college where I was working. I might as well not make a liar of myself. Just then my cell phone rang, and I recognized the ringtone for the young woman I was currently seeing. I touched the icon on the steering wheel. “Hi there, Alexa.” “Hello, Leo,” she cooed. “How’s my favorite linguist?” She didn’t give me the opportunity to respond. “I just made a pot of tomato sauce. Want to come by for some Italian?” “I’d love to.” The sauce would actually be from a jar and the pasta, whatever it was, most likely from the supermarket freezer, but she was fun and had a good heart for all her delusion she could cook Italian food for an Italian. “Will ten minutes be too soon?” “That’s perfect. It will give me just enough time to set the table, pour the wine, and whip up a salad. Ciao, handsome.” “Ciao, bella.” I touched the phone icon again, then flipped up the blinker and headed for Alexa’s second floor condo in Cambridge. She really was beautiful, but too many men let her blonde looks deceive them into thinking she was empty-headed. She was smart as a whip, on the fast track to becoming partner in the law firm she’d worked for since passing the bar. If I were the marrying kind, I’d have snapped her up in a second. The thing was, I wasn’t, and it seemed neither was she. So I’d have a good meal—I had no objection to Ragu and a*****e brand ravioli. And perhaps, afterward, Alexa and I could relax on her couch and see how many bases we could round while her radio played soft music in the background. * * * * Only as it turned out, I’d barely had time to give her a hello-gorgeous-kiss when Micajah called. “Buddy? What’s up?” I asked. He should be having wild, monkey s*x with Ron. “I’m sorry to bother you. I…I just wanted you to know I’m moving out.” “What? Micajah, what’s going on?” “I found Ron in bed with a…a woman.” Shit. “That couldn’t have been pretty.” “No.” His laugh was watery. “I’ll be right over.” I hung up before he could protest. “Babe, I have to go.” She rested her palm against my cheek. “All right. Will you be able to come back later?” “I don’t know, but don’t count on it. I can’t believe…” I shook my head. She kissed me and stepped back. “I’ll let it cool, then put it away. Come back when you can.” I caught her arms and pulled her into a deeper kiss. “Thank you.” But as it turned out, that was the last time I saw her. * * * * Micajah’s suitcase, which he’d apparently never had the opportunity to unpack, was at the front door. He stood beside it. “They’re in the kitchen.” He’d been studying the tiles on the floor, but now he glanced up at me. His eyes were shiny with unshed tears, and I felt my heart break. “Would you see my things are packed up and sent to the Bostonian Boston?” The hotel was on North Street in Boston. “Sure. Do you want me to drive you there?” “No. I’ve called for a cab. Thanks anyway, Leo.” He gripped my shoulder, sent a final glance toward Ron, who was lingering in the kitchen doorway, then left. “What the f**k did you do?” I demanded as I stalked toward him. Ron had the grace to look abashed. “You have to understand.” “I understand you’re breaking Micajah’s heart. You’ve been together for almost ten years.” He backed into the kitchen and sent a nervous glance toward the woman who was seated at our kitchen table, calmly drinking a cup of coffee. She might have been a stranger to Micajah, but I’d seen her before at an office party sponsored by Ron’s company. “Belinda, would you excuse us for a moment?” She rose from her chair with a lithe movement, gave me a look I’d have expected if I were a cockroach she’d found in the pantry, and sauntered out of the room. “All right, would you mind explaining this?” He ran a hand through his hair, distracted. “I tried to talk to you about it. Weren’t you listening to me?” I must have missed something. “Suppose you tell me again.” “My parents have been pressuring me to get married.” “That’s nothing new.” “No, you don’t understand. It’s become worse. I…I have to get married.” “You’re not pregnant, are you?” “No, what are you—” He narrowed his eyes. “Not funny, Rossi.” He would have thought so at one time. “Look.” I caught his arm and squeezed it gently. “Talk to me. You love Micajah.” “Why do you keep calling him something so old-fashioned?” “Because that’s his name?” Ron ground his teeth together. “I never liked it.: “Micajah never liked that you called him Cage.” “He never objected. Besides, it’s a good nickname.” “He never liked it,” I said again. “Never mind. Cage has been nothing but cold to me these past months. He’s…he’s probably seeing someone.” “He is.” Ron turned white. “I…I never believed—” “You, you i***t,” I interrupted him. “I…I wouldn’t mind seeing him after Belinda and I return from our honeymoon.” “You…you want Micajah to be your side piece?” “We’re all adults. I’ll talk to Cage. He’ll come around. You’ll see.” He had the gall to look hopeful, and I ground my teeth. “How did I never know you were like this? I always thought you were one of the good guys.” His face crumpled. “You don’t understand. Your family always accepted you without question, but only because you’re straight. My family would disown me. I’d never be permitted to see any of them—not my nieces or nephews or my sisters…” He gave a slight gasp. “Or my parents.” “So you’re going to marry this woman—” “Belinda. Her name is Belinda.” “—and break Micajah’s heart and your own.” He shrugged. I saw what his problem was. “You’re a chicken s**t,” I snarled at him. I’d just never realized it before. He’d hid it too well. I ignored his flinch and turned away. “Where are you going?” “I think we have some boxes in the cellar. I’ll bring them up and start packing Micajah’s things. Once I’m done, I’ll get started on mine.” “You’re…You aren’t leaving too, are you?” “Yeah.” “But—but why?” He really had to ask? I blew out a breath. “I don’t think your future wife is going to want me around.” “Why would you say that? Why would you think it?” “Because I’d be a reminder—to her as well as to you—of who you let walk out of your life.” He had no response to that; he stood there and let me leave without trying to stop me. Had I really hoped he’d try? * * * * I couldn’t bear to be in the same city—the same state—as Ron, not after what he’d done to our mutual friend—so when Micajah found the perfect place for his clinic on the outskirts of the university town of Mercerville, I sent my CV to Mercer U. and followed him. I dated sporadically, but none of the women could hold a candle to Alexa. I should have asked her to come with me, but I came up with one excuse after another why I hadn’t. “I’ll call her for you if you’re too chicken s**t to do it yourself,” Micajah said. I cringed to hear the same term I’d thrown at Ron used to address me. “Never mind. I’ve got rounds to make.” Micajah was still wrapped up in his work, as much as before Ron had thrown him over. There was no reason for him to cut back now. Oh, he saw any number of men over the years, but none of them were serious. Not until he ran into one of my students who was just leaving my office. Micajah began questioning me about the young man, one Dante ap Owen. I liked Dante and would have liked nothing better than to become his advisor. He’d spent enough time in Great Britain to have an accent, even though he was American. In addition, he could speak an amazing array of languages, and I’d wanted him for a project, but the plans fell through when his uncle refused to permit it. I probably could have worked around it, but he would be going on to medical school, so there wasn’t much point. And then came this evening, when Micajah had said, “Leo…What do you know about Gamma Gamma Gamma?”