The General and the Elephant Clock of Al-Jazari (2 page)

“Is this camo research part of an art project?”

Billy sighed, gave an elaborate shrug. “Life, art, what’s the difference? I’m thinking about becoming a mime.”

“What, like one of those guys in black leotards who try to find their way out of an invisible box?”

“Yes, exactly!”

Gabriel was looking worried now, and John suspected the worry was mirrored on his own face. Gabriel pulled the brown hat off, rubbed Billy’s damp blond hair with the palm of his hand. “I like the new flat-top. What’s this about Abdullah coming?”

“He was talking to Kim on the phone when I came out here. I wanted to give them some privacy. Of course Kim still loves him, despite what happened. I mean, you always love your first, right? But he’s not sure if Abdullah….”

“What do you mean, his first? His first what?”

Billy’s mouth fell open, then he giggled behind his hand. Gabriel reached over, stroked John’s back the same way he’d just stroked Billy’s, a soothing touch. “Okay, now, let’s just stay calm.”

J
OHN
would have been the first to admit that he was having a bit of a problem letting Kim, his darling nephew, fly out of the nest. But he would also have explained, if he was questioned, that he knew his little bird better than anyone on the planet, and he had a very clear picture of the dangers that awaited a boy as clueless and big-hearted as Kim. He also thought that there was no one on the planet good enough for his baby.

Unless it was Abdullah al-Salim, the son of one of his oldest friends, a boy who had walked thirty miles across the Kuwaiti desert in the first days of a war, searching for John, to beg his help to save his father. Abdullah was a wildly talented cellist, a boy of great passion and beauty. No one was good enough for Abdullah.

But the thing neither of the boys realized was that it required a great deal of attention and care and selflessness to grow a mature relationship. And John would, in all honesty, have to admit that both boys were just the tiniest bit self-absorbed. Maybe someone who didn’t love them would call them immature, maybe even selfish.

“John, he’s twenty-three. He’s old enough to have sex. Shit, he’s old enough to do anything he wants.” Gabriel was pulling on a sweatshirt so they could go for a run. Evenings in New Mexico were chilly, even during summer. John took a moment to enjoy the sight of Gabriel’s fine chest and belly when he stretched his arms over his head. “I mean, how old were you when you lost your virginity?”

“I can’t remember.” Gabriel grinned at him. Okay, so he was lying, but he was not going to be distracted. “It must have been that Christmas Kim was seventeen. How old was Abdullah then, twenty? So what happened? What have they been doing since then? Why are they avoiding each other? Something must have happened.”

Gabriel pulled him over by a finger tucked in the waistband of his sweats. “And why, General Mitchel, do you think it’s any of our business?”

“The warrior-philosopher uses many tools to keep his kingdom safe. Information is the most critical of those tools.”

“I love you.” John looked up at him in surprise, and what he saw on Gabriel’s face caused him to pull him close and taste his warm, smiling mouth. The touch of his mouth, and something scattered and anxious in John’s heart quieted.

“I love you, too.”

J
OHN
and Gabriel had spent most of their lives as General John Mitchel and CW-5 Gabriel Sanchez, United States Army. Gabriel was the hotshot helo pilot everyone called the Horse-Lord, and John, General Mitchel, was the brainy strategist and high-ranking leader Gabriel was responsible for keeping safe. They were career army and dedicated to the work of defending the Constitution of the United States, keeping her lands and people safe. They had been lovers for years, but on the down-low, so they could continue to serve. John had given up the possibility of having a family. Gabriel had married, tried to make a family with a woman he could not love the way she deserved to be loved. Together, and after both had retired, they had taken a few shaky steps out of the closet, and were trying to make a life together, the life they should have been able to live all along. It was both easier and more complicated than they had anticipated.

They walked through the kitchen, newly painted and redecorated by Kim and Billy, and Gabriel stopped by the door to punch the blinking light on the answering machine. Martha’s voice, Gabriel’s soon to be ex-wife: “Gabriel, the tutor you hired for Juan has just resigned. It seems your son called him a faggot. He wants to speak with you. The tutor, I mean. Not your son.”

Gabriel stood as if frozen, staring blankly at the kitchen wall. There was a parade of funky little cars painted in shades of tangerine and aqua driving across the wall. John reached over, took Gabriel’s frozen finger off the answering machine. “Come on. Let’s run.”

They had a flat three-mile loop that was easy PT for two men used to the army’s disciplined exercise programs. They got home and walked through the backyard, and Gabriel sat on the wooden steps to the back porch. John went into the kitchen and came back with the gel cold pack. He kept it in the fridge for Gabriel’s knee. Gabriel put the cold pack around his leg with a couple of Velcro straps. “Thanks.”

It was the first thing he’d said since they’d listened to Martha’s message. John ran his hand over Gabriel’s head, down to the sweaty hot skin on the back of his neck. “You ready for supper? I’ll throw the steaks on the grill.”

“Yeah, I could eat,” Gabriel said. He turned on the step and smiled at John. “Thank you.”

“I’ll get dinner started. Take some time if you want.”

It had taken John a couple of weeks of them living together before he realized Gabriel needed some alone time in his day. Not much, sometimes only five minutes, but a few minutes alone, sitting on the back porch. John needed considerably more alone time, because the work he did required deep thinking and concentration. Gabriel used his alone time differently. John thought he was meditating, breathing, maybe, keeping his emotional life in balance.

John pushed open the kitchen door. The jury was still out on the new decorating. He had thought he was sending Kim and Billy out for an extra desk and bed, but that had somehow turned into a redo of the entire house. He had to admit the kitchen was cheerful. Kim and Billy had painted the kitchen walls bright cream enamel, then painted the trim in tangerine and aqua. The curtains were tangerine with cream polka dots, and there were little cars zooming all over the walls, hand-painted by a bunch of Kim and Billy’s artist friends. The new dining room table was Formica, with stainless silver legs, and the chairs were padded in aqua vinyl. Kim and Billy were very pleased with the kitchen. Gabriel liked it, as well, though he might have been just trying to get along. John was okay with the changes. The kitchen, he thought, was fine. It just didn’t look like
his
kitchen. It looked like the kitchen of a person who was considerably cooler than he was. The same could be said about the living room.

Kim was waiting for him to come in from his run, and he swooped down on John and wrapped his arms around his waist for a quick hug. “How’s my favorite uncle?”

John studied his face. “I’m fine. What’s happening with you?”

“Not too much.” Kim was head down into the fridge, looking for something to snack on that did not have a face or a mother. He’d explained to John this was his new criteria for healthy eating. “Can we talk about the couch?”

John crossed his arms over his chest. “So talk.”

Kim stood up and leaned back against the counter. “Okay, you have every right to be pissed off. You told me not to get a new couch, and I did anyway. I know I spent more money on the redecorating than you had planned. What I want to know is if you hate the couch for itself, or if you’re just mad at me for disregarding what you told me to do?”

John sighed. “The new couch is fine. I admit it’s not really what I would have picked out.” He walked over and stared gloomily into the room. The new couch which Kim had been forbidden to purchase was cream-colored Italian leather, a semicircle with a round ottoman that looked like a giant leather polka dot. It was very sleek and modern. He’d purchased some round maple tables in a pale golden finish to go with it, and the rugs on the floor were also round, in various sizes and shades of cream and pale gold. The whole thing looked very… Danish.

“The thing is, four men can easily sit on the couch at the same time, say to watch a movie together. Two men can lay down on this couch at the same time, like if you and the Horse-Lord wanted to lay down together and read books. It’s extremely comfortable, Uncle John. I just wish you would give it a chance.”

“Okay, I’m willing to give it a chance. And I admit it’s very comfortable. With the new rugs and the new tables it looks like winter, 1968, has come to Albuquerque. Peter Max in psychedelic white, not really my style, but I’m okay with it.”

“Peter Max? Winter?” Now Kim had his arms folded. “Holy shit! It’s not white. It’s cream! Big difference in tone and temperature. Okay, so tell me what you think would be the perfect couch. Maybe we can figure out how to meet in the middle.”

John thought a moment. “I suppose I’d like a couch that’s a little… browner. Maybe plaid would be good.”

“Okay, no plaid. I’m sorry, but no. A person would have to be deranged to buy a plaid couch. I will see what I can do about brown.” Kim looked around. “We could add some caramel accents, maybe a throw. I want you to like it.” He sounded young all of the sudden. “It’s really important to me that you like it. If you want, I can split the cost of the new couch with you.” He tried to hand John some cash. “I’ve got $275.00 as a down payment on my half.”

“I don’t want your money.” John stared at him. Kim was Korean, with eyes that always gave away what he was thinking. He was totally unable to keep a secret. John couldn’t help but notice the light in his face, like he was about to start laughing. “Wait a minute. Is this the money you made writing term papers for the students in my Political History seminar?” Kim was grinning now, and he shoved the cash back in his pocket. “Are you under the impression you’re too old to spank? Twenty-three isn’t too old.”

Kim was laughing now. “You don’t believe in spanking. Okay, let me and Billy see what we can come up with. Something browner.” He turned back to the garage. “What’s brown, anyway? Dirt? Gravy? Shit?”

“Wood, you knucklehead. Wood and chocolate bars and Gabriel’s hair, all brown. Oh, by the way. Are we expecting company?”

Kim stared at him, eyes narrowed. “Abdullah’s coming. How did you know?”

“Anything you want to tell me?”

“Nope. Not a thing! Later, Uncle J.” He slipped through the door out to the garage, where he and Billy had a studio apartment.
Slippery as an eel
, John thought. Something was definitely up.

M
ONDAY
morning the house was quiet, everyone off to their various schools and jobs, and John was making his weekly to-do list. He wrote haircut under Monday afternoon, because the feel of his hair creeping down the back of his neck was going to start driving him crazy if he didn’t deal with it pronto. One good thing about the army, he thought, not for the first time, was you didn’t have to waste good creative energy on non-issues like hairstyles or clothes. You just got the job done and moved on. Not like Kim, who collected pictures of his potential hairstyles and hung them up on his bulletin board for a couple of weeks while he was deciding on a change. He’d told John he was thinking of doing a “Patti Smith” with his black hair, whatever that meant. John had decided it was best not to get involved and to confine his role to support.

He walked out to the mailbox and collected the few remaining pieces of mail that didn’t come via e-mail, and when he lifted the magazine out of the box, he felt his stomach drop down to his shoes. Oh, no. Was it here already?
Out
magazine, and he and Gabriel were the cover feature. There was a picture of the two of them, with Gabriel looking dark and handsome in his flight suit, and the caption of the photo said: The General and the Horse-Lord: The Army Comes Out of the Closet.

The interview had been extremely difficult, at least for him, because he was not eager to talk about himself to the young reporter. Every word that he dragged out into the light seemed to be a betrayal of something he valued more than himself. He was careful to gauge the possible impact of his words, and he could see that the interviewer was working much harder than usual to get his story. The young man sent to do the interview was obviously expecting John to give the army a public spanking. He’d wanted juice, he’d wanted stories, nasty details. John doubted the boy could think his way out of a paper bag, and he’d very soon lost interest.

Gabriel had a difficult time with his interview as well, but he seemed relieved and happy to get it done. Gabriel wanted this, or John would never have consented to such an intrusive interview. It had been Kim’s idea, of course, but Gabriel wanted it too. He wanted to live in the light. He wanted their new life together, after a lifetime of hiding what they were to each other, to start out clean.