The Danelaw
They exchanged numbers, but made no definitive plan. “If I do my due diligence and Google you,” Liko said, “am I going to find anything disturbing?”
“I don’t think so. But here’s a thought: What are you doing for May Day?”
In his entire life, Liko had never even acknowledged May Day. He ventured a guess. “Um, dancing around a pole?”
“I always throw a party. Come back down and observe me in my natural habitat. Meet my gang. You can tell a lot about someone from their friends. If we’re too weird or your gut throws a red flag, abandon ship.”
“I’ll think about it.”
Dane walked him to the foyer, where Liko slipped on his shoes and zipped his jacket. On the wall by the coat tree was a large framed map of the British Isles. The caption read England 866 in beautiful calligraphy.
“Ah, it’s my home turf,” Liko said, stepping closer. “Back in the day.”
England was hand drawn in pen and ink, with minuscule cross-hatching in the detail.
Kingdoms, cities and towns labeled in precise letters.
Mercia, Wessex, Northumbria. And lying between, washed in pale red, were the lands once under Norse or Danish control.
A sweeping arc of letters named them: The Danelaw.
The house elbowed Liko in the side. Get it?
“I’m getting the feeling no coincidences live here,” he said. “Danelaw.”
Dane smiled. “That’s me.”
“For real?”
“Danelaw Strong. Nice to meet you.”
“Great name.”
Dane gave a little nod, but let the compliment float away.
Liko hesitated, then said, “My real name is Henry. My mother teaches European history, with a specialty in the Victorian era. There was once a lesser prince called Henry of Battenberg, but the royal family called him Liko. Mum fancied the sound of it.”
“I do too. It’s midway between likeable and lucky.”
He is legit flirting with me, Liko thought.
He immediately sent the impulse to its room and grounded it for twenty-four hours.
“A clue for the road?” Dane said at the car door.
“Sure.”
“Jonathan Henshe is an anagram.”
“Of course it is.”
Dane smiled. “Now that’s a clue on a plate. The only one of those you’ll get. The rest you gotta work for.”
“Understood.”
“And hopefully, ye then deign to know me.”
“Dane and deign,” Liko said. “I actually figured that out last night.”
Dane’s eyes flicked to the sky as he grinned. “Oh, you figured that out but not the rest of it?”
“What do you mean?”
“Dude…” A laughing sigh. “You seriously don’t remember me.”
It wasn’t a question. The words were wistful almost to the point of sadness, though Dane kept smiling. A beam of sunlight broke through the clouds and hit his brown gaze. One eye dazzled topaz, full of depth and rippling gold. The other sucked the light in and gave back nothing.
And then Liko remembered.
Ye then deign to know me.
Not a boulder dropping on his head but a soft hand caressing his nape.
His mouth fell open as Dane’s face shifted into place within his memory. It stayed open as the rest of the game’s phrase unfolded to become names. Names Liko forgot he remembered.
“Wait,” he whispered, his memory whirling like a copper wind spinner. Wisteria hares turning back the clock. Back in time. To a party. Not long ago by the calendar, but another lifetime to Liko.
“My wife died,” said the man on the roof, minutes before the New Year. “Nomi.”
“Beautiful name,” Liko had murmured.
“She wasn’t my legal wife. Nomi was married to Ethan. I was their partner.”
“Wait,” Liko said again, begging the world to hold still because this was too much to take in.
Ye then deign to know me.
Ethan. Dane. To Nomi.
Liko’s pointed finger moved through thick air to press the center of Dane’s chest. Dane reared back just the tiniest bit, but held still.
“You’re the guy I met on New Year’s Eve,” Liko said.
Dane’s smile was pure delight. “Hi.”
“Holy shit.”
“Right?”
“Wait. No. You can’t be.”
“I am,” Dane said. “It’s me.”
“But you had blue eyes,” Liko said, talking more to himself now, his finger pushing a little, trying to pin down the memory. “Didn’t you? Yes. It’s the first thing I noticed. I remember seeing you and thinking, Goddamn, those eyes should be illegal. And… Wait…”
Dane only looked at him.
“Diane has the eyes I remember,” Liko said slowly. “Your eyes were in her…face?”
His mind clutched the insides of his skull, hanging on for dear life and crying, Pump the brakes, you moron.
Dane raised fingers to his left eye and made a pinching motion. He squeezed both lids shut, blinked a few times, then looked at Liko with one brown eye and one blue eye. In his pinched fingers was a brown-tinted contact lens.
A long staring moment passed between the men.
“Okay, this is a lot to take in,” Liko said.
“I know.”
Liko crossed his arms, brows pulled tight, and leaned back on his car door. “It is you, right? We met. New Year’s Eve. On the roof at Huff and Maisie’s house.”
“Yes.”
“We had a date. We were supposed to go back this year. Or last year, rather. I’d ask rude questions, we’d resolve further, then exchange names.”
Dane’s two-toned expression went even more gentle. “The Jensens had to cancel the party. And for obvious reasons, you wouldn’t have been there anyway.”
“Right. I was…losing my mind.”
“Which I totally understand. Because when we met, I was just finding my lost mind.”
Liko nodded, suspended in the magical moment. “Because your wife died. And your partner left you. I remember.”
I remember. Yes, I remember. The party. I looked at you and you at me. I felt something so intense, I introverted. Panicked.
Memory unfolded like origami, spilling little details.
I couldn’t get a bead on you. It was pissing me off. The Universe was pushing me to say hello. Instead, I went up to the roof to hide. But you found me there.
Holy shit, I remember.
“When did you realize it was me?” Liko asked.
“A few seconds after I opened the door last night. The beard threw me at first. And I think you’ve lost weight. I remember you bigger. And happier.”
“I did,” Liko said. “I was.”
“But then I saw your eyes.” Dane smiled. “See, I’m not the only one with an unforgettable stare.”
“Why didn’t you tell me right then?”
“Lots of reasons.” Dane put his hands in his pockets and exhaled. “You were already reeling from puzzle pieces coming together. You’d been crying. You were overwhelmed and exhausted. I figured it was fairer to give you space and not burden you with one more coincidental revelation.”
“I see.”
“Also, I was shocked to see you again, at this time and in this way. So shocked that I kind of panicked. I figured I’d tell you when you came back today, but when you told me about your son…
I felt horrible. And the stunt with Diane seemed so cheap.
Not cheap, but… Man, I don’t even know how to explain this. ”
“Use short words.”
Dane’s chin tilted. “That was one of your lines on New Year’s Eve.”
“I inherited it from my dad, but go on.”
“I don’t usually… Diane’s someone who mostly lives inside me. To parade her around like that was… I keep coming back to cheap. Cheap and stupid.”
“Then I’ll be cheap and stupid and ask are you a drag queen?”
Dane laughed now. “No.”
“Are you transitioning?”
“No. Not a drag queen. Not transitioning. I don’t have a multiple personality disorder. It might be a little early to play trust games, but will you trust me anyway? I will tell you, I promise. But not today. Definitely not in the driveway.”
We can take it back inside, Liko thought, feeling the air crackle between them. “Fair enough,” he said aloud. “One more question?”
“One. Make it good.”
“The painting over the fireplace. Is it you? I mean, were you the model for Gideon Perfect’s album cover?”
“Yes,” Dane said, cheerful and firm, as if pleased to finally be able to give a straight answer. “I’ll tell you that story, too.”