“Syphilis?” John asked while twisting one end of his handlebar mustache. “Half the people on the playa have something. I’m sure it will be gone before then.”
Eduardo moved into the kitchen off the hallway to fix Patrick’s drink. “I was going to make Patrick a drink; I’ll make a round for everyone. Dwayne!”
Patrick continued. “No, not syphilis.” Good lord. “My niece and nephew, Maisie and Grant.”
“Oh, those poor children,” John said as Dwayne materialized in the doorway in hospital scrubs, presumably having just come from work （Patrick hoped; nurses presumably shouldn’t drink before they start their shift）。 JED was now fully present and accounted for.
“Those poor children?” Dwayne asked. “Patrick’s not that awful. I’m sure they’ll have a fine time on their visit.” He winked in Patrick’s direction.
John pressed his forehead against the palm of his hand in frustration. “Their mother just died? The whole reason Patrick went home? We got his mail?” He looked at Patrick apologetically. “We have your mail.”
Patrick often wondered how their needs were ever met in this arrangement. Any divisions in a threesome, like with his siblings, were usually two against one. It would be difficult, he imagined, to be in a relationship like this, and also the slightest bit emotionally frail. It was one of the reasons he admired them.
“Why I’m here,” Patrick said, and flipped through the stack of his mail on the entry table. He hadn’t missed much if the top few envelopes—bills mostly, and a few solicitations for money—were any indication.
“Oh, but stay. Can you stay?” Dwayne asked.
“We’re very sorry,” John said, placing a hand on Patrick’s shoulder.
He couldn’t deny the air-conditioning felt good （a few degrees colder than he kept his own house）， and while he had his issues with JED, it was already a refreshing change of pace to be around adults. Kids had so many questions. All the time. “For a few minutes.”
Eduardo shouted from the kitchen, “I’m making Aperol spritzes!” Patrick heard it in Grant’s voice—spwitzes—and smiled.
“The kids are with my housekeeper. I left them looking at videos on my iPad. Can you believe it? I have a sixty-five-inch television and they have no interest in watching it.”
“They’re not size queens like you,” John teased.
“Oh, leave them be,” Dwayne fussed. “I can’t imagine what they’re going through. Is your brother here, too?”
“Greg? He’s in Rancho Mirage.”
“He’s not staying with you?”
“Are you ready for this? He’s in rehab.”
“Rehab!” they chorused. Even Eduardo peered around the corner, his necklace clinking against the hutch. They had a tendency to do this, chime in together. It reminded Patrick of the Bobbsey Twins, books of his parents he read when he was young in which two sets of twins would always exclaim things in unison. He always thought that read remarkably false—that couldn’t actually happen with twins, could it?—but now he had a newfound appreciation.
“For what?” John asked.
“Pills. Since Sara’s diagnosis. Apparently, it’s how he made it through.”
“Pills? Come, come,” John motioned, beckoning him into the living room. Patrick looked at the décor; there wasn’t a knickknack or piece of folk art they didn’t love. On the side table was a collection of African carvings in varying sizes of warriors with huge, erect penises, and the house was full of macramé.
Patrick settled in the drab olive-green lounger covered in crushed velvet that he’d silently dubbed the Ike Turner Chair, then kicked off his sandals before resting his feet on an ottoman. “The whole family was shocked. We had no idea.”
Eduardo joined them in the living room with a tray of drinks, handing one to Patrick before John and Dwayne reached for the others. “John was an addict once.”
“Cocaine,” John admitted. “But I don’t think it was addiction so much as the seventies.”
“We only let him have the occasional drink.”
“That’s right, only four or five a day. Tops.” He winked.
“What was your sister-in-law’s name again?” Dwayne asked, taking a seat across from Patrick.
“She was more than my sister-in-law,” Patrick said, before realizing he didn’t want to share more. “Sara.”