Epilogue
SIX MONTHS LATER
Blake
Blake hunched over the cutting table in the upstairs sewing room, immersed in a paperback, sliding his ruler beneath each line as he read.
His textbook sat off to the side, forgotten for now.
He’d been taking a couple business classes at the community college, to get a taste of the college experience he’d missed out on as a younger man.
Although he loved learning and being more involved in the day-to-day operation of the club, Ethan had just self-published his collection of horror retellings and Blake couldn’t get enough. He’d been staying up late, devouring each tale, sneaking in reading time whenever he could.
He was nearing the climax of The Wolfman. Blake’s fingers tensed as the Wolfman’s hairy paw, claws dripping with blood, emerged from the dark, reaching for the intrepid protagonist…
A floorboard creaked in the common area, and Blake jumped. “Shit!” Then he laughed at himself, shaking his head. “Hi, William,” he said, glancing at the open door.
As they spent more time on the second floor, the eerie creaks and footsteps became a part of their daily lives. At first, Blake was on edge all the time, tense and jumpy at every small noise, constantly worried he was going to turn around and see some hideous apparition.
In bed one night, Ethan explained his theory that the sounds were a “residue” haunting, rather than a ghost with consciousness and intent.
It was probably the century-old echo of a firefighter returning to the station after putting out a spectral blaze.
That set Blake’s mind at ease, but it wasn’t until Ethan suggested the spirit might be William Baird looking for his beloved George that Blake relaxed and welcomed the spirit’s presence in the firehouse.
After another creak, Ethan appeared in the doorway. “It’s not William this time.” He held up a large, flat package. “This was just delivered.”
Ethan smiled as he walked over to the cutting table, casting a glance at the abandoned textbook. “I thought you were supposed to be studying.”
Blake ducked his head with a guilty grin. “I was… but I really wanted to see how the story ended.”
“Which one are you reading?”
“The Wolfman.”
Reflexively, Ethan rubbed his bicep. On New Year’s Eve, he’d gotten a tattoo of the Wolfman throwing his head back in a howl, silhouetted against the full moon.
It was an act of rebellion against his father’s rules and expectations, a way for Ethan to mark his commitment to living life on his own terms.
Blake joked that it was an act of quiet rebellion, since they both knew he’d never show the tattoo to Howard.
And yet, the ice between Ethan and his father was starting to thaw.
After their dustup on the morning of the grand opening, Howard was slowly coming around.
Blake had a standing invitation to Friday night family dinners now, and he, Ethan, and Howard had shared several nights in the downstairs study, sipping whiskey and chatting about business.
In his own unique, emotionally guarded way, Howard was accepting Blake as a son-in-law.
Ethan placed the parcel on the cutting table, carefully worked open the end, and slid out a bronze plaque.
Blake ran his fingers over the raised text with pride and relief.
It had taken months, and a couple additional hearings, but the Historic Preservation Committee had finally approved their petition.
The fire station was now a historic landmark, protected forever from demolition and redevelopment.
The building would always be there for the community to enjoy – long after Siren closed.
Maybe someday Blake’s spirit would walk its halls as well, singing and dancing in tear-away pants.
“It’s beautiful,” Blake murmured.
“Want me to read it?”
“No, I can do it.” Blake placed his ruler under the top line of text, sliding it down as he read.
“Engine Company No Nine, oh, um, Number Nine. San Francisco Fire Department, 1885 to 1943. In honor of the selfless heroes who safeguarded the Mission District during the fires that followed the earthquake of April 18, 1906.”
Blake set his ruler aside. “I can’t wait to hang it up.”
In the common area, soft footsteps approached the door and stopped.
“That’s William,” Ethan said with a chuckle.
Blake held up the plaque. “This one’s for you and your brothers, William.”
“We’ll hang it this weekend. But this afternoon you have an open mic to host.”
Blake set down the plaque with a final reverent brush of his fingers.
He went to where his guitar case was resting on his sewing table and popped its latches.
After lovingly lifting his guitar from its bed of burgundy velvet, he ducked his head under the strap and settled it on his shoulder.
His new strap, sporting a design of yellow and orange flames, had been a birthday gift from Ethan.
He couldn’t wait to show it off during his performance. “Let’s go.”
In the spring, Siren began hosting open mic events twice a month, as a way to bring people in on quiet afternoons before the main shows.
Word spread quickly, and now not only did the sign-up lists fill quickly, performers got to play to a full house.
Today would be Blake’s first time joining the lineup.
Enzo lit up when Blake stepped backstage. “Hi boss, the crowd is warmed up and ready for you.”
“Awesome. Have we had a lot of sign-ups?”
“Full roster as usual.” Enzo pointed to the checklist posted on the wall. He’d highlighted every other line, creating horizontal guidelines so Blake could read it more easily.
Blake smiled when he saw Zane’s name in the number two spot. Knowing one of the bar’s owners had its perks. Zane was on a small venue tour, promoting his new album, and jumped at every chance to perform at Siren. He now had a cadre of loyal fans who followed him from venue to venue.
Blake stepped onto the stage, waving, to enthusiastic applause from the audience. When he took his seat in front of the mic stand, the house lights dimmed and a spotlight switched on.
He adjusted the microphone to the proper level. “Hi everyone. Thanks for coming to our open mic here at Siren. It’s nice seeing some familiar faces. Well, it was nice, until the spotlight blinded me.”
Blake strummed a chord on his guitar. “The song I’d like to play for you tonight is one I haven’t performed in public yet, so I hope you like it.
It’s one I wrote for the man I love.” He scanned the audience until he found Ethan, sitting just outside the glare of the spotlight. “This is for you, Ethan.”
Locking eyes with his boyfriend, Blake played the intro to his song, a sentimental melody with a folksy, contemporary singer-songwriter vibe.
After a deep breath, he began to sing, his voice pouring out smooth as Irish whiskey, warmth lingering in every note.
This was more than a song. It was Blake’s love letter to Ethan.
A piece of his heart, handed to the man he could no longer imagine living without.
Ethan leaned forward in his chair, hands over his mouth, hanging on every word.
Blake’s inspiration was the story Ethan told him on their second date, about how Ethan’s father had reminded him they were always under the same stars.
As he played the chorus, Blake sang to Ethan that whenever they were apart, he could look to the sky and find Blake’s love for him shining in the light of the stars.
Scenes from that beautiful night in the park played in Blake’s mind like his own personal music video.
Eating Jujyfruits with Ethan as they watched the sunset.
Holding hands and listening to music. Lying side by side, heads touching, under the field of stars on Ethan’s phone.
Then afterwards, making love and holding each other in the dark, part of him knowing he’d found the man that was always meant for him.
While Blake sang the song’s tender bridge, a flash of movement in the audience caught his eye.
A man was weaving between the tables on his way to the stage.
Blake could only make out a vague silhouette because of the spotlight shining in his face, but as the man stepped closer, his features resolved.
Sandy-brown hair, receding at the temples, combed into a side part.
A neatly trimmed beard, streaked with patches of grey.
A strong, angular jawline, the same shape as Blake’s.
It was a man whose features were familiar – beloved even – but who was out of place.
Blake’s voice faltered, and his fingers stilled on the strings. He lifted his shoulder strap over his head and set his guitar down. Slowly descending the stairs from the stage, he stared in disbelief at the man standing before him. “Dad?”
Calvin Duffy wrung his hands, a diffident, uncertain look on his face. “Surprise.”
Blake raced toward his father and threw his arms around him, wrapping him in a tight embrace. His chest swelled with joy when his father squeezed him back. A smattering of applause rose from the crowd, mingled with murmured awws as hearts melted over the sweet, unexpected reunion.
Blake pulled back and wiped the tears from his eyes. He beckoned to Ethan, who was standing nearby with a smile on his face. “Dad, this is my boyfriend, Ethan.”
Cal wiped tears from his own eyes and sniffled. “We’ve met.”
“What?” Blake looked between his father and his boyfriend. “When?”
Ethan took Blake’s hand between his own.
“I hope I didn’t overstep. Calvin responded to the letter you wrote him for Christmas.
He sent a postcard to your mom’s house, and when she saw the news he had, she thought it would make a nice surprise.
So I reached out to your dad, and we planned a visit.
We picked tonight since you’d be performing your song. ”
“It was an awesome surprise. I’m so happy to see you,” Blake said, leaning in for another hug as Ethan’s words slowly sunk in. “Wait. What news?”
“I’ve been in contract negotiations with a new orchestra.”
“Another one in Germany?”
Cal shook his head. “LA.”
“You’re moving to California?”
“Yes, this fall. I’m just visiting for a couple weeks to look for a place to live and to spend time with you and Ethan.
I, um…” Cal stumbled over his words, and cleared his throat before continuing.
“I know it’s long overdue, and it might be too much to ask, but I’d love to be a bigger part of your life.
I want to get to know the man you’ve become. ”
“Really?” Blake asked, his voice small.
“I know it will take time to build trust, and to make up for lost ti––oof!”
Blake lunged at Cal and squeezed him as hard as he could. Mumbling into his neck, he said, “That’s all I ever wanted, Dad.”
Cal melted into his son’s embrace. “I’m so proud of you, son, and everything you’ve built here.”
“Come on, I’ll give you the grand tour,” Blake said, beckoning for his father to follow him. “Oh wait, do you want a drink first? We should have a drink. I’ve curated a menu of signature cocktails.”
“I could go for a cocktail. Lead the way.”
At the bar, Tenny finished up with a customer’s order and came over to shake Cal’s hand.
“Dad, this is my friend Tenny.”
“Nice meeting you, Mr. Larsen.”
“Oh, it’s Duffy, actually. Never mind, just call me Cal.”
Tenny smiled. “What’ll it be, Cal?”
Blake tapped the bar. “Let’s start with a round of Hose Handlers.”
Cal raised his eyebrows, his lips hooking into a playful smirk.
“It’s like a cucumber gimlet,” Tenny explained. “Very refreshing.”
“Sounds tasty. I’m in.”
Tenny lined up three rocks glasses on the bar and poured vodka into his shaker.
“Now, what’s this your mom tells me about a career making films of an adult persuasion?” Cal asked, amusement in his voice.
Blake chuckled. “Better make them doubles, Tenny.”
On the stage, Zane stepped into the spotlight, handing Blake’s guitar to Enzo. “Good evening, everyone. My name is Zane Evans. Before I get started with my set, let’s have a round of applause for Blake Larsen and his debut single ‘Under the Same Stars.’”
He took a seat and lifted his guitar strap over his head while the audience cheered and clapped. “It did come to a bit of an abrupt halt, though. I don’t want to leave anybody hanging, so in the interest of tying up loose ends…”
Zane played the bridge to Blake’s song. “I helped him arrange the song, so if I may be so bold.”
While Blake, Ethan, and Cal clinked their glasses together, celebrating the start of their next chapter, Zane brought Blake’s song to a close by singing his final chorus.
We’re under the same stars,
No matter where we are,
Don’t matter how far the miles stretch
They can’t keep us apart.
Whenever you’re missing me
Look to the sky,
We’re under the same stars
My love’s in their light.