24. Abbot
ABBOT
Abbot can hear the low timbre of Ned’s voice as he reads Peggy a story, and the soft sounds of Dan and Cheryl moving around the kitchen.
He sits against the headboard of Ned’s bed, Baxter’s chin resting on his leg, his laptop open to the About page of the place Liesl wants go to tomorrow as he checks its open hours.
With Ned, she had insisted, so it’ll have to be after he’s done with work for the day.
Though then Peggy can come too and enjoy—he scans the website—arcade games, batting cages, and mini golf.
They can finish the day by making caramelkopfli together.
A different evening entirely from the one he just endured, and far better.
He wants—he doesn’t even know. A glass of wine. A cup of tea. To simply bang his head against the wall. A lobotomy, so he can erase the last few hours from his memory, and maybe take with them the preceding days as well.
He wants too the energy to go downstairs and enjoy good company, when instead he’s retreated on instinct and wrapped himself in solitude.
This was supposed to be his time with Liesl.
She could’ve landed and come to the Coppolas’ house for dinner, and he could have watched Dan joke with her and Cheryl fuss over her.
They could be driving back to Portland now as she berates his music choices and plays her own instead, the volume too high, the lyrics jarring.
It’s some measure of comfort that their father being here means she’s at a hotel with him, that she’ll be staying in Boston tomorrow, and that he gets tonight here with Ned, but the price of a horribly long dinner is steep.
When Ned comes in, Baxter’s tail thumps in welcome, and Abbot puts aside his computer. Ned pauses, then lays down next to Abbot on the bed. Abbot finds himself hesitating, though as Ned settles with his head near Abbot’s hip, he can’t resist the urge to run his fingers through Ned’s hair.
Ned pushes into the contact, his eyes closing. “You okay?”
“I’m glad dinner’s over with.”
“Me too. Baxter, you’re not supposed to be on the bed.”
Baxter’s tail thumps again and Ned sighs, reaching out to pat him.
“Medical dispensation?” Abbot offers.
“As long as he’s not bugging you. He’s staying the whole time Liesl’s here? Until next week?”
“Baxter?”
“Ha. No, your dad.”
“Yes, but I’m sure he’ll see colleagues while he’s in town and I don’t believe he’ll accompany us tomorrow evening to…” Abbot glances at his screen. “FunZone, Arcade and More.”
“Liesl has great taste. We went there all the time when we were little,” Ned says. “I should tell Pat to come.”
“Have you talked to him recently?” Abbot scratches lightly at Ned’s scalp.
Tonight was long and he’s tired, but being with Ned like this is nice.
It always is, and suddenly, fiercely, he misses the time they didn’t share last night.
Why couldn’t he have cheered up? Focused on being present with Ned, and not lingered in his own discontent?
“Hmm, that feels good. Not really. He’s in the middle of diagramming the frequency of Claire being in touch and trying to figure out what to read into it that she’s been a bit quieter the last few days.”
“Sounds like he could use a statistician.”
“Don’t encourage him. At the vet today, the guy said she was out sick, so I think she’s really just not doing great. She didn’t say anything when you two talked?”
“That her last boyfriend was rather subpar,” Abbot says, though no, she had said more than that.
It’s one thing to have fun and another entirely to build something together, she’d said, though when he tries to repeat that to Ned now, the words stick in his throat.
He pulls his hand back so he can shut his laptop and set it aside.
“I hope they work out.” If Ned noticed the beat of silence, he doesn’t say anything.
“Me too.”
“Hey.” Ned props up on his elbow. “When your dad asked to talk after dinner, he gave me these.” Ned reaches for his coat draped over his desk chair.
He pulls two boxes from the pocket and opens the first. A men’s watch sits inside, and Abbot recognizes it the same moment Ned says, “I guess it was your grandfather’s. ”
It’s been cleaned since the last time Abbot saw it, some of the nicks of age and wear fixed, and it gleams softly in the lamplight.
It’ll suit Ned, understated like some watches aren’t, and practical enough for everyday wear.
Abbot should have thought of getting him something similar, and he might have, had he really planned out a proposal.
Of course, his father just went ahead and did so, without bothering to inform Abbot.
He might have guessed. What will his father do next?
Buy that house they saw with Sandy without asking if Abbot cares for it?
Show up at Newbury at the beginning of the fall semester, having reviewed Abbot’s syllabuses and class rosters, ready to offer his feedback on the week’s reading?
He might, actually. The house, at least. Couch it as having purchased a place in Boston for him and Liesl to stay.
“Abbot?”
“It’s a Patek Philippe. Yes, it was my grandfather’s.”
“It has to cost more than my car. He just gave it to me. Just handed it over. And—and this too.” Ned opens the other box without warning and holds it out.
Quickly, Abbot sits up and nudges Baxter’s head off his leg. He’d really like to get up, though between the dog and Ned trapping him against the wall, it’s difficult.
“Abbot. Just give me a minute, okay?”
No, it’s not okay. Abbot’s stomach is crawling up into his throat. He should take Baxter out. Now. He reaches for Baxter’s collar.
Ned’s hand catches his. “Hon, I don’t think you’re alright.”
“I’m—”
“Fine? I keep thinking you just need time, but I’m not entirely sure more time is helping.”
Time. The tick of seconds slipping by, the minute hand dashing forward. Weeks, not months, the doctors had said.
“We do have to talk,” Ned says gently. “Because things are getting out of hand and we’re coming up against stuff we have to figure out. Your dad gave this to me for Peggy. Is that alright with you?”
“It’s his to give.”
“Yes, okay, but it’s yours and Liesl’s too.”
“Liesl has plenty of other items.” Of our mother’s, he doesn’t clarify. There’s other jewelry and favorite books and keepsakes and pictures and—
That envelope sits at his house. He can nearly feel its presence, like it’s followed him down to Boston.
“Is this something you want Peggy to have?” Ned asks.
“Yes. I said I’d get her something more,” Abbot says, speaking quickly so this can be over all the sooner. “This is convenient.”
“Convenient,” Ned echoes.
Ah. Yes. That sounds rather callous. “I just meant…” Abbot pauses. He’s not sure what he meant. That this saved him an errand, but it’s not like he was trying to avoid finding something for Peggy. “If she wants something else, I could get her that instead.”
“It’s not about that. It’s about if you want an important heirloom from your mom passed down into my family.”
“Of course it’s fine.”
“Is it? Cause I’ve been there. I spent a hell of a lot on a ring for Jen, and it’s not like I saw any of it back when we split up.
Which is okay. It was a gift. It’s hers.
But it’s now up to her what she does with it, if she still even has it.
For all I know, she sold it a good while ago and took herself on vacation or whatever.
I have no idea if Peggy will end up with it, if Jen wants her to, and what Peggy would do with it if she does get it.
But at least it wasn’t my mom’s or grandmother’s or anything like that, just out there in the world now. ”
There’s a spot in the paint on the wall.
An old mark where Ned likely had a poster hanging at some point, and when he took the tape off, it left a stain.
Jen’s ring. Abbot never thought about that.
He assumed she’d had an engagement ring, but he’s never wondered what it looked like or how Ned went about choosing it.
How Ned proposed, even. It was just something that happened to another Ned, a prior one Abbot didn’t know.
“Will you say something?” Ned asks softly. “Talk to me? Please?”
Abbot studies his hands. What can he possibly tell Ned? That he never wants to see that watch again? That it ought to go back to Geneva and stay there?
“It’s up to you,” Abbot finally manages.
“It’s really not,” Ned says. “This is a big deal, and I can’t just give or not give this to Peggy without knowing what you think, and if you’d want it back, or—”
“Why would I want it back?” He doesn’t want it in the first place. Give it to Peggy and she can put it on a stuffed dinosaur. Just as long as it’s out of this room and away from him.
“Abbot.”
“Do you want a ring?”
“I—what?”
“For this.” Abbot gestures between them. “This engagement.”
“I don’t know. It’s not like I’ve thought about it.”
“Do you have yours?”
Ned’s eyes dart to his desk. “My wedding ring?”
“Yes.”
“I—yeah.”
“Can I see it?”
Ned hesitates. No, Abbot expects him to say, but he gets up.
It’s in the top drawer, which Abbot has reached into a handful of times to find a pen, but apparently it’s at the back, because Ned spends a moment hunting for it. He draws out a little plastic bag and shakes it out, and there it is, a gold ring shining in his palm.
Abbot slowly reaches for it. It’s a bit scuffed, a sign it was worn every day.
Abbot remembers seeing the gold glitter on Ned’s left hand he’d used as a reminder to keep his thoughts off his incredibly handsome student who was clearly committed elsewhere.
He’d noticed it being gone too, though he hadn’t seen much of Ned in those days, only occasionally passing in the hallway and certainly not stopping to speak.
But one of those times, his hand had been bare, and Abbot couldn’t help but check again and again afterward to see if it was truly a pattern.