Epilogue
Duncan
My brother was thrilled to have me living in his building, especially since he didn’t have to let me stay in his apartment for the rest of the year as he’d been prepared to offer.
We were close but not roommate close, something we’d both decided—and sworn on—when we were fifteen and still sharing one.
But he did like having me close enough to go to brunch on Sundays and to guilt into going to a few of his concerts.
Turned out, Ocean was a fan of classical music and actually had heard of Bob or Roberto as he used for a professional name.
I’d always thought that was funny, but when Ocean said it, he said it with respect.
And I didn’t hate classical music, at least not as much as when I was a kid and my brother practiced hours every day.
Often on pieces a bit beyond his abilities at any given time.
With the holidays coming up, we were invited to the city philharmonic’s Christmas concert featuring the piano stylings of Roberto—yes, not only did he add an O to his birth name, but he used only one name.
“I can’t believe we’ve got such great seats.” Ocean sounded far more like a rock music fan than someone going to watch hundreds of people dressed in formal black perform the Peanuts Schroeder version of “Jingle Bells.”
“Mm-hmm.” At least I had a suit to wear since we were invited to a formal after-party. Since when did orchestras have after-parties?
“Usually those seats are only for people who’ve been season ticket holders for three generations. I’m so lucky to have connections.”
“Yes, you are.” I straightened the wreath on the front window. “I hope we have everything for Christmas dinner. With both sets of our parents meeting each other for the first time, this week, we want it to go perfect.”
“Also, Roberto is coming.”
“Could you just call him Bob? He asked you to.”
“I know, but I’ve thought of him as Roberto ever since I bought his first CD. I didn’t know he lived in the building. He looks just like anyone else.”
“Because he is. He didn’t even change his socks the whole year he was fourteen.”
“The entire twelve months?”
“Well, it smelled like it. He’s just human.”
We teased back and forth while getting ready to go to the concert.
Ocean’s parents were local, but mine were in town for the concert and our Christmas dinner.
They were staying at Bob’s, but I was so excited for all of them to see the apartment.
To prepare a beautiful meal for them then gather near the fireplace, in the glow of the Christmas tree, and just spend time together.
Our seats were, as promised, the best in the house.
Six together for us and our parents, who we had introduced in the lobby.
We were on the floor, center, so close to the orchestra I could see the string that shredded on the violin.
The first few pieces were just the orchestra and a few guest singers, one of the pianos in shadow.
But then a spotlight landed on it and my brother was seated there.
A little trick, sneaking in while we were watching three ballerinas twirl to a piece from The Nutcracker.
My mom reached for my left hand. Ocean already had hold of my right.
“Son, do you think his arm is healed?”
“He says it is.”
“I’d hate to see him overdo it and ruin his career,” Dad muttered.
“I’m sure he won’t.” People were starting to stare. With both my hands occupied, I gestured with my chin to the stage. “Shhh. They are about to begin.”
Bob struck the first chords and then the rest of the instruments came into play, and we were swept into the music and the spirit of the holidays.
Sitting here with my family and Ocean’s, planning a beautiful dinner for all of them tomorrow in our lovely warm apartment, I had never felt so happy and content.
I’d always loved my family, but it had been a long time since I’d had a special person to call my own.
We were so happy together, rarely argued, and had a great time making up if we did.
We supported one another in everything, big or little.
Tonight, at home, when it was just the two of us, on the most romantic night of the year, well, I had a ring box in my pocket. I hoped he’d say yes.
Spoiler alert: he did.