Little Merman: Chapter 4

Wade was a pleasant-faced man with thick curly dark hair and fine mobile lips. He was wearing a long wool coat which exuded expense. He glanced over Rhys and then Lider, both dressed in dungarees and heavy sweaters, and Rhys could swear he looked disappointed.

Rhys couldn’t imagine why. Because Rhys and Lider weren’t in their official garb? Had Wade wanted his meeting with his ex and his ex’s husband to be noticed? A ceremonial encounter in view of crowds?

Possibly. Wade had been like that. He’d objected to Rhys’s “smothering,” but he hadn’t objected to Rhys sporting a well-tailored suit and striding into important shindigs beside him.

I was like that too—only I was more about shock and awe than making a respectable and pleasing impression.

Everybody has to grow up at some point.

Rhys waited for the official at Customs to stamp Lider’s passport. Lider crossed through the gate and moved quickly out of pedestrian traffic. Lider was still somewhat doubtful of corporeals’ ability to move around objects. Rhys followed him closely.

They ended up near the West Grand Staircase at the bottom of shallow steps enclosed by marble banisters. The upper concourse was for show these days and not accessible. They weren’t blocking anyone’s path.

Wade stood opposite. He nodded to Lider who nodded back, his face entirely open, which meant, Rhys knew, that Lider was disconcerted.

Wade said, “I would have thought I merited an invitation to your wedding, Rhys.”

His tone was off-hand, conversational, but of course, that was Wade’s style: to make cutting remarks in a way that suggested perfect civility.

“It was a fortuitous accident,” Rhys said. “Archbishop Tennyson insisted we undergo a public ceremony. Acte gratuit,” he added, and Lider laughed.

And I hadn’t seen you, Wade, in over ten years, Rhys didn’t add.

He’d met with Wade shortly before he left for Mars. It was the second time they’d met since their break-up. Rhys had thought it right to say goodbye formally.

He hadn't thought about Wade much since, except as a cautionary tale, what not to do with Lider in their relationship.

Lider said in his husky tenor, “The ceremony was attended by our fellow travelers. Of course, we were already married by the time I achieved corporeality.”

Rhys fought a smile. Lider didn't sound defensive. He was using his calm “I’m dealing with an obnoxious parishioner” voice. But he might have been marking his territory. Rhys didn't mind.

“I’m happy for you,” Wade said to Rhys. “Marriage always was one of your goals.”

Rhys weighed his response. He had forgotten that Wade told people what they thought and felt and wanted without verification.

Marriage had been a goal for Rhys. Not because he or Wade got along all that well but because by the time he dated Wade, Rhys was desperate to make a relationship work, to get something right, to move forward in one area. He and Wade had similar ways of handling the world, similar ambitions. Rhys figured those similarities would be enough.

He gave up on marriage when he entered the priesthood. Celibate with Exceptions was a concession to reality, to Rhys’s fundamental character. If he’d still wanted to get married, he would have selected “Married Priest” in his initial application.

He hadn’t. He’d placed himself on a track towards becoming an archbishop, even a cardinal. He’d substituted one ambition for another. But then—

“Lider inspired me to revisit that goal,” Rhys said carefully.

He kept his voice even. Contradicting Wade directly never worked. But Rhys had never been able to go along with Wade’s assessments.

Except I did. I wanted to get married. I was willing to compromise. Wade ended things.

“I’m happy for you,” Wade said. “For finding a mate who satisfies your needs.”

Rhys felt Lider’s hand on his arm almost before he could draw breath. They'd both heard the implication. Wade was treating Lider like an optional extra, a blow-up doll, a thing.

Lider said gently, “We appreciate your good wishes. Is this meeting by happenstance?”

Human Lider

Wade focused on him then. They were of similar height, about 1.8 meters though Lider was slimmer—due to age, not just his Cubi nature. Cubi chose an age when they became corporeal. They then grew older naturally. But even after they arrived in the world as corporeal entities, they tended to appear more youthful than their peers. Human aging was difficult to replicate.

Not that Wade looked all that much older. Rejuvenation, Rhys guessed. But Lider was fresh and beautiful and slightly unworldly. And holy, even if he would refute the term.

I suppose it doesn’t say much for my non-petty side that I’m glad my husband is more physically appealing than my ex.

Wade said, “I'm on my way to New LaGuardia. I work in sales for Kloptik, the pharmaceutical company, you know.”

Not an answer to Lider’s question, and Lider slightly tilted his head.

“Ah,” Rhys said.

“I have a significant other of my own now.”

Rhys nodded. The conversation was becoming more and more inane, and he still couldn’t fathom why Wade was there, the guy who dumped him, though by that point, Rhys hadn’t wanted to stay together either.

“I've always been concerned about you, Rhys. But now I see you are well looked-after.”

The hand on Rhys’s arm flexed. Lider’s eyes glimmered. He was amused. His inherent kindliness kept him from smirking (Rhys was too bemused to smirk), but the smirk was there.

Holiness is not the same as naivety.

Lider said coyly, “Rhys sees to all my needs.”

For the first time, Wade looked disconcerted. Then he leaned in.

He said to Lider, “Rhys came to see me before he departed for Mars. Of course, it wasn’t right for us to start up again once the relationship terminated. I left room in his life for someone else. I think my train is about to depart. We’ll catch up later, yes?”

Wade left, not at a rush—he would never be so sloppy—but at a brisk stroll, one hand lifting to wave goodbye. He didn’t turn his head.

Rhys and Lider stood in the sunlight patterned by the grills across the long windows above the staircase. Squares glowed on the slick floor. They touched the shoes and furred feet of passing pedestrians.

Rhys said finally, “He’s gotten more practiced.”

“People do as they age," Lider said. “We learn to mimic ourselves. You realize, he must have known what train you were on.”

Yes, Rhys did realize that.

* * * 

Rhys and Lider left the station. Their first stop was an apartment near St. Patrick’s cathedral. They’d stored clothes and books and other items there before they headed north. They changed now, Rhys into his long cassock; Lider into a suit. Lider was a canon and wore the “uniform” when he helped Rhys conduct Mass. Otherwise, he deferred to Rhys's religious authority.

Because Lider carries his religious beliefs with him while mine are all assumed.

It turned out, their choice of professional dress was better than a way to keep an entitled and confident debutante in line. It was practically armor.

Phillala wasn’t alone.