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I was never gonna be a great musician, no matter what I thought when I was fifteen. So after years of school and six different bands and a good, honest try at Los Angeles, I was back in New York by thirty. I was working four days a week at a music store selling guitars and teaching kids how to play them. I was painfully single and still living with roommates. I was playing with a pretty decent band on the weekends, but we probably wouldn't go anywhere. Things were okay.
Then this guy walked in the store.
It was a slow day, so I was playing around in the empty store on a guitar I could never afford. I didn't even hear the bell on the door when the guy came in.
He looked . . . actually, it was pretty hard to tell his age. But whatever he was, he was gorgeous. I was sitting down, so I had to look up at him, and he smiled. He had a band shirt on, but I genuinely can’t remember what band it was. I immediately lost the ability to talk.
“Nick Drake, right?” he asked.
“What?”
“The song you were playing.”
“Oh. Yeah. Yes.”
“You sounded great.”
“It. . . thanks.” I looked down at the strings.
“I'm Apollo,” he said, as if that was a name people had. “What's yours?”
“Jacob,” I said. “What's yours? Wait.”
And somehow, after that terrible first impression, he decided to date me. He didn't even buy anything.
Dating Apollo was wonderful and infuriating. He was beautiful, effortlessly stylish, charismatic, fabulously wealthy, and yet somehow down-to-earth. He was also relentlessly vague about the details of his own life, to the point of suspicion.
I could handle the fits of melancholy that he refused to explain -- I've dated musicians. And actors. I get it. But a month in and I couldn't get a read on how old he was, where his money came from, or basically anything about him as a person. My roommates thought maybe he was in organized crime, or politics, which were basically the same thing anyway.
But god, he was so much fun. He knew everything about music, like everything. Any band I mentioned he'd not just heard of, he'd also listened to their entire discography, formed an opinion of it, and somehow knew a piece of trivia about its members. He bought me rare vinyls. He took me dancing. He gave me a succulent. I was a little bit in love.
One night I went with him to some art thing. A friend of his having a gallery opening, he said. I walked around and looked at the paintings, which were pretty cool, honest. I wasn't much of an art guy, but I liked how huge and colorful they were, and how the shapes didn't totally make sense until you looked at it for a minute and the picture seemed to form itself in your mind.
I shared this thought with Apollo, and he said, emphatically, “Ugh, yes, exactly. She's a genius. You have to meet her.”
He pulled me through the fancy people to a young woman with massive red hair and an air of disdain. She wore a bizarre dress that had zippers and patches and seemed to be two shirts sewn together.
“Rachel!” called Apollo.
She looked up and her face lost the vague disgust she'd been pointing at a man with a very expensive haircut.
“Apollo! You came!”
Apollo hugged her.
“Of course I came, my darling. I wouldn't miss it for anything.”
When they parted, Rachel's eyes fell on me.
“Hello,” she said with a little smile. “You seem nice. I'm Rachel.”
She extended a hand.
“Jacob,” I said, shaking it. “So you and Apollo, uh. . .?”
“We've worked together for years and years,” said Rachel, which seemed like a long time for someone I would have carded before selling her the drink she was holding.
“I'm so very proud of her,” said Apollo with emotion. Rachel rolled her eyes at him.
Rachel told me all about her pieces, how she mixes dreams and reality and paints them. See, that's a house that her friend really lives in, but she's turned it into the scene of a battle. That's her father's building being overrun by cows.
She was indeed a genius. She was funny and deeply talented with a paintbrush, and I told her so. She seemed pleased, but also like she was self-assured enough that she didn't need my compliments.
“So you and Apollo are a thing?” she asked me while Apollo was busy getting horrendously flirted with by a woman in a silvery dress.
“Well, unless Sequins over there has any success.”
Rachel glanced over her shoulder and analyzed the two of them.
“Nah, I don't think she will,” she said with certainty.
I asked Rachel how she knew Apollo, and she said they met through a mentorship program. I asked if he was a painter, and she said, “No, it's more just. . .” she waved a hand around. “A creative process thing. He sort of helps get my juices flowing? I don't know how to explain it. . .”
She glanced over at me while she searched for the words.
“Oh, gods,” she said. “That sounded terrible, didn't it. I just mean -- he's just a really experienced artist. He helps me with my art. That's it. It's not weird.”
“I'll take your word for it,” I said, perturbed.
Rachel excused herself, embarrassed. I interrupted Apollo and Sequins and told him I needed to be heading home. I worked in the morning. To my delighted surprise, he said he would drive me home.
In the car I asked, “Is Rachel a pagan?”
Apollo blinked.
“What?”
“When we were talking, she said, ‘Oh, gods’. Like, gods plural. The only other person I've heard say that was a Hellenist.”
Apollo was quiet for a moment, and then he said, “You know what, I've never asked her.”
A week later I ran into him totally by accident at a jazz show. A drummer buddy of mine started playing with this great band that had, according to him, the best sax player to come on the scene in years. I hadn't seen the guy in a while, so I showed up.
Man, that sax player didn't disappoint. I didn't even particularly like the sax, but the way that kid played that thing was unreal. I was totally transfixed by the stage when Apollo tapped me on the shoulder and said, “Hey.”
I spun around so fast I almost fell over, but Apollo caught my arm. He was smiling at me, which made me want to fall over again.
“Hey,” I said. The song had ended, and the kid was doing some banter on the mic.
“He's great, isn't he?” said Apollo.
I was confused for a second, but Apollo gestured with his chin towards the stage. Right. The show.
“He's amazing,” I said. “That's my buddy up there on the drums.”
It was a desperate, embarrassing attempt at impressing Apollo that obviously didn't work. The guy knew Tristan McLean.
That particular tidbit had fueled the Greek chorus of my roommates all week. He knew Tristan McLean, the guy who had lost all his money in shady deals? He was close with Rachel Dare, daughter of the real estate mogul? He had his hands in some nasty pies.
I got lost in the music and my own thoughts and the feeling of his hand on my waist for the rest of the show. There was a part of me that was really enjoying his whole mystery rich guy thing, but the roommates in my head reminded me that it wouldn't be very sexy if it turned out he made all his money in, like, oil or something.
After the show, Apollo pulled me confidently backstage. I tried to protest, because I wasn't actually that close with the drummer, but upon entering he shouted, “Austin!” and hugged the saxophone player. Okay.
They must have known each other, because the sax player just hugged him back instead yelling for help.
“You came!” said Austin, prodigy sax player who got a write up in the paper last week.
“Of course I came! You were wonderful.”
Austin smiled.
“I know,” he said. “Had them eating out of my hand during that last number.”
“Oh, like you were domesticating a wild animal,” agreed Apollo.
Austin glanced to where I was awkwardly loitering behind Apollo.
“You gonna introduce us?”
“Oh, how rude of me. Austin, this is my friend, Jacob. Jacob, this is my son, Austin.”
I was still recovering from the devastating blow of “friend” when I was knocked out by the wildly unforeseen “son”.
Austin didn't shake my hand, he just gave me a very cool and manly nod and a little once-over.
“Nice to meet you,” he said. “You look like maybe this guy forgot to mention he has kids.”
Kids, plural. Wasn't that nice.
“I didn't forget, Austin, I simply choose to keep my family life and my. . . other matters separate.”
Other matters. I was other matters.
“Oh, is that what we're calling it now?” said Austin. “Other matters?”
Apollo finally made eye contact with me, looking genuinely embarrassed and apologetic.
“Really, Jacob, I didn't mean anything by it.”
“Uh,” I said.
“He's such an idiot sometimes,” said Austin, not without affection. “One time he got so scared of a horse he pissed his pants.”
Apollo made an offended noise.
“Austin! You weren't even there for that!”
“No, but Grover told me about it.”
Apollo turned to me again.
“It really was a very dangerous situation. With the horse. I was in mortal danger.”
“Uh, sure,” I said. “Horses can be dangerous.”
Austin snorted.
“Anyways. Dad, I'm going to the afterparty. No offense, but don't come.”
Apollo sighed.
“Alright. I get it. But give me a hug, first.”
Austin complied, and Apollo said, “I'm proud of you.”
Apollo asked if he could walk me home. It was a bit of a long walk, but I figured he wanted to talk about the whole having kids thing, so I agreed. We were quiet at first, though the night around us was loud. Drunk people shouted happily over the music pulsing from the bars and clubs around us.
“I'm sorry I didn't tell you,” he said finally.
“Why didn't you?” I asked after a moment.
He fiddled with the buttons on his shirt.
“It's a bit. . . complicated. I wasn't a very good father to them until a few years ago. I was quite the, uh, playboy, I guess you could say, in my youth. I have several children as a result of that and I hardly had a hand in their upbringing.”
“So, you got in touch a few years ago?”
“Well, I'd met most of them before that,” he said. “But we weren't close. A few years ago I guess I had a bit of a life crisis. I realized what was really important. Reconnected with my kids. Started really paying attention to them. They've been very gracious with me. They're wonderful.”
I took that in for a moment before he continued.
“And I'm sorry about the, uh, ‘friend’ comment. I just didn't really want to say ‘lover' in front of my kid.”
I laughed, sincerely charmed.
“You could just say boyfriend, you know,” I responded without thinking. I was hit with a wave of embarrassment.
“Oh, could I?” said Apollo. He was smiling. I felt hot all over.
“If you want,” I replied.
“I think I do.”
When I told the roommates, they lost their minds. About the kid thing, not the boyfriend thing. They were aghast at the news and furious with me that I didn't get more details. What can I say? I got distracted.
I had a lot of dreams about Apollo. Sometimes he would show up and just play guitar for me, which I didn't even think was a fantasy of mine. One time he showed up dressed like a character from ‘300’, or something. He reached up and touched the crown of leaves on his head and said, “Goodness. I thought I’d decided to stop wearing these.” Then he looked at me and said, “Hello, Jacob,” and he was so radiantly beautiful that I woke up with tears in my eyes.
I told my roommates this. One said I was going insane, the other said I was clearly in love. Basically the same thing, anyway.
I invited Apollo to a hardcore show, and he actually hadn't heard of the band. I felt like I'd won something. It totally wasn't his scene, but he still somehow looked completely comfortable. It pissed me off a little.
I lost him in the mosh pit at some point and found him again chatting with a girl who didn't even look old enough to be there. I don't know what the look on my face was when I walked up to them, but it was enough to make the girl pull back and say, “What?”
“Jacob!” said Apollo.
“Hi,” I said.
“This is Jacob,” said Apollo. “Jacob, this is Thalia, my sister!”
The math struggled to make itself work in my head. She looked even younger than Austin.
“Half,” said Thalia. “Our dad's a whore.”
“Well, I had to get it from somewhere,” said Apollo. Thalia laughed and gave him a jovial slap. She had very aggressive makeup that made all her features stick out, so her laugh looked enormous.
“So, how'd you get roped into dating this freak?” asked Thalia.
“Uh, he asked me out,” I said. “I said yes.”
She shook her head.
“Rookie move.”
“Thalia, please,” said Apollo.
“What, you want me to lie to him?”
Apollo sighed.
“Have you any news of my dear sister, Thalia?”
“He means his other sister,” Thalia said, for my benefit. “His full sister. I work for her.”
Apollo had actually mentioned having a twin, one of the few pieces of information about his family that he had shared freely. He adored her, but didn't see her often. I thought their parents were a little corny for naming them Apollo and Artemis. Apollo had laughed when I said that, and he agreed that his father was tacky.
“She's good,” said Thalia. “Usual stuff. We got a new, uh, crew member last month. Picked her up in Alaska, she's awesome.”
Artemis’ job was totally unclear to me, but I had given up asking. I wasn't totally surprised that this teenager was working for her half-sister instead of going to high school. Apollo seemed to have been homeschooled, so maybe that was the norm in their family.
“Well, give her my love when you see her.”
“Sure thing.” Her pocket vibrated and she pulled out a Nokia. “Look, I've gotta scram, Reyna's bugging me. Shall I give her your love, too?”
“Oh, fuck off,” said Apollo, tone friendly. “Give her my friendship, how about that.”
“Sure,” said Thalia with a little smile. “Nice to meet you, Jacob. Good luck with this one.”
The rest of the show was pretty fun. Apollo wasn’t made for the mosh pit, but we had a couple drinks and made out in the parking lot. I certainly wasn’t complaining.
Apollo invited me over for dinner that weekend with some friends of his. I was relieved when I arrived and they were in their forties. I was worried that Apollo only hung out with teenagers.
Paul Blofis and Sally Jackson were a gorgeous, kind, extremely intelligent couple. I was deeply envious of their marriage. Apollo said they knew each other because their kids were all friends from summer camp. I was reminded of something Austin said after another show the week prior, that for years Apollo's only act of parental care was to send them all to a nice summer camp outside the city.
Sally's older kid was in college on the West Coast. They discussed him at length and with great affection. Paul and Sally had a daughter starting kindergarten, and photos were passed around of her darling cheeks. Paul managed to start a conversation with me about teaching, as if his full time teaching position compared to my part-time music instruction. I commended his attempt.
When we had all had a few glasses of wine, Sally said, “Oh, god, I worry about him so much.”
Paul put a hand on her shoulder. I had no idea how to respond. I had no children.
Apollo said, “Sally, you have done a wonderful job with him. You have done everything you could. I wish I had. . . I wish I had done as much as you have. Things would be different. I can't even begin. . .”
He rubbed at his face. Sally reached across the table and grabbed his hand. He squeezed it tight.
“I've made so many mistakes, Apollo,” she said.
“Oh, Sally, not nearly as many as I have.”
They both laughed sadly.
“You've done well these past few years,” she said.
“Your approval is more than I could hope for.”
“I mean it, Apollo.”
“I've got a lot to make up for.”
“Then keep up the good work.”
“Only four thousand more years of this and I'll be in the clear.”
Sally and Paul both snorted.
After they left, I touched his face and asked him if he was okay. He told me he got lost in the past sometimes. I wanted to ask him what past, what mistakes, but he kissed me and I lost the courage.
I slept over at Apollo's a lot because he had no roommates. Negative roommates, even, as he had a guest bedroom. He also had a really nice coffee maker and his fridge always had nice stuff in it. He made carrot muffins sometimes. I looked up his apartment on Zillow, once, and almost threw up. Almost two months in, and I still didn't know where he got the money. But, Jesus, the view was nice.
After waking up from a very restful sleep after a very active evening, I walked into Apollo's beautiful kitchen to a young man making a sandwich at the counter. I thanked God that I was wearing underwear, but unfortunately I was wearing Apollo's shirt, as well.
“Hello,” I said.
He gasped. His head whipped around and he pointed his butter knife at me, dropping some mayo on the tiles.
“Oh!” he said. “Hello.”
There was an uncomfortable moment of silence. His eyes dropped to my t-shirt, which was Apollo's t-shirt, which read, “The Beetles,” and had a picture of a bunch of bugs walking across Abbey Road. His eyebrows raised.
“So,” he said. “I'm his kid.”
“Oh my god,” I said.
“I take it you're the boyfriend?” he said.
“I am.”
He put his knife down and held out his hand to shake.
“Will,” he said.
“Jacob,” I replied. “How many of you are there?”
My mild desperation and terror might have bled into my voice. Will laughed.
“Six,” he said, with a wiggle of his hand.
“What's this mean?” I asked, mimicking his gesture.
“Well, Georgie's still unconfirmed, but she doesn't seem to care either way, so it might stay that way. And my dad was, like, a serious whore up until just a couple years ago. So who knows who else will pop up.”
“His sister said the same thing. Your aunt. That he was a whore.”
Will looked surprised.
“You met Artemis?”
“No, the half-sister. Thalia.”
“Huh,” he said. He leaned against the counter. “You know, I forget they're technically siblings? The age gap, you know? And I've never thought of her as my aunt, cause she's not that much older than me.”
“She's older than you?”
Will had to be at least eighteen, but Thalia looked like she'd barely finished ninth grade.
“Major baby face syndrome,” said Will.
“Right. Hey, you mind if I grab some of that coffee?”
“Yeah, no, go for it.”
Usually when I was over at Apollo's I pulled myself an espresso shot, stirred in some raw sugar, frothed some milk and then sprinkled cinnamon on top. Doing all that in front of his kid seemed like a nightmare, so I just poured myself a cup from the pot Will had clearly just made.
“Sorry,” he said. “I should have told him I was coming over. I forgot he was seeing someone.”
“Hey, he's your dad. You're not intruding.”
Will smiled at that and continued making sandwiches.
“Your dad mentioned that he had sort of a life crisis a while ago,” I started awkwardly. “And everyone's saying he used to be a slut and a terrible father before that. Can I ask what happened?”
Will finished up the sandwiches and thought that over as he started cutting crudites.
“I'm not gonna, like, go into the details,” he said. “But basically his dad cut him out of the family for a while. He had a really hard time. But he took the opportunity to reconnect with his kids. I really appreciate that.
“His dad got over it eventually, but their relationship still isn't great. He got an apartment with a guest bedroom so that any of us -- the kids -- could stay over if we wanted. He's really trying. You know, you're the first person he's dated since his whole crisis.”
I was absolutely dying for more details, but prying my boyfriend's son for gossip felt unbelievably crass. So I just asked what the sandwiches were for.
“Hanging out with my boyfriend today,” said Will. “Classes are done so we're doing a picnic. I don't have any food at my dorm, but if I don't bring anything he'll just get McDonald's. He has the worst diet I've ever seen. I can't believe he's made it this far.”
That made me smile. I asked Will about his program (first year of nursing school) and his dorms (fine, he was used to sharing a room) and his classes (the subject matter came easy to him, but school didn't) and his boyfriend (charmingly moody and poetically beautiful, according to him). We were discussing the merits and drawbacks of emo music when Apollo finally awoke.
“Is that Will Solace I hear?” he called from the other room.
Will replied, “Hi, Dad!” while I realized that I didn't know Apollo's last name. That was embarrassing. I'd have to sneak a peek at his driver's license while we were out sometime.
Apollo entered in a pair of linen pants, a purple floral kimono, and a green shirt that said, “My best friend went to Palm Springs and all I got was this dumb t-shirt”. He had a huge smile on his face as he pulled his son into a hug.
“I had no idea you were coming!”
“Sorry, I should have called.”
“No, come over whenever you'd like!”
“Well,” said Will. His eyes cut to me. “I don't know about that.”
“Ah, I see you've met the lovely Jacob.”
“Yeah, he's been telling me all sorts of embarrassing things about you,” I said.
Apollo rolled his eyes.
“Well, I wasn't before, but I will now. Dad, do you remember that Adele cover you did when you first got back?”
“Will, I was emotional.”
“He was crying too hard to hit the high notes.”
“How dare you make fun of me for that! I was going through a lot!”
“Well, it was still better than some of your performances before.”
Apollo sighed.
“I will admit that
my acoustic metal phase
was not my best work,” said Apollo, in an odd cadence.
“Enough, with the haikus!” said Will with a laugh. “You're not even doing them right! You know what, I gotta go, I'm gonna be late.”
Apollo laughed and kissed his son on the cheek.
“Have fun with your emo boy!”
“I will!”
“Love you!”
“Love you!”
Apollo and I were both smiling when we turned to each other.
“He's great, isn't he?” asked Apollo.
I nodded. Apollo sighed and looked at the door.
“I'm amazed every day that I made such kind people.”
The more I told my roommates the more distraught they got, but I was in too deep. I hung out with him almost every night, and when I didn’t I dreamed about him. I was obsessed.
Apollo invited me over again when Kayla drove into town. Her other dad, thank god, did not stay for dinner. She greeted me with a wave, a big duffel bag over her shoulder. Her hair was dyed purple, clashing violently with the ginger roots growing in.
“You're the boyfriend?” she asked. “Will and Austin told me about you. First boyfriend since he got normalified, bet he's nervous.”
Will and Austin came over as well. Will's boyfriend was supposedly coming later. Apollo and I made a salad while the kids caught up with each other, loudly. They threw around names and events that meant nothing to me, but I was happy to listen to them.
“So, Piper started dating this new girl, and she thought she was, like, you know, a normie, right?” said Kayla. “But then it turns out she's actually . . . from China.”
Will and Austin reacted strongly to this, although I had no idea why. Didn't they have a sister from China?
“Oh shit!” said Austin. “I don't even like thinking about that stuff. Feels like my brain is melting.”
“At least Dad is the same in New York and San Fran. Imagine if there were two of him? Like with Nico’s dad?”
This made no sense to me, but apparently Apollo got it.
“I don't like what you're implying,” he said. “But I agree. My dear sister is a bit of a drip on the West Coast. And don't even get me started on your grandfather.”
“Don't you think it's funny that it's the uptight ones in Cali and the chill ones in New York?” said Kayla. “Like, shouldn't it be the other way around?”
“We didn't really plan for the popularization of marijuana when we split up. Anyways, you guys can talk about this when you get back to camp. Have a conversation Jacob can understand, please.”
I was grateful and confused and unsettled.
Kayla told us all about the drama in her archery classes and her other dad's recent breakup.
“And like, thank fuck. That guy was so boring. But my dad's upset.”
Apollo stayed very quiet for that part of the conversation. As did I.
As we were putting food on the table, there was a knock at the door.
“That's gotta be Nico!” said Will.
He leapt up to let in his boyfriend. When the door opened, Apollo shrieked. There was the boyfriend, for sure -- skinny, black hair, shirt with some metal band on it, ripped skinny jeans. Beside him was a girl wearing clothes three sizes too big for her in bright, mismatched colors. Her glasses were purple, her shirt was orange, her pants were green, her shoes were blue, her hair was pink. All of her was slightly unkempt.
“Meg!” shouted Apollo. He ran forward and hugged her.
Will was busy hugging his boyfriend and Austin was busy stealing wine from the fridge, so I turned to Kayla.
“Oh, he didn't mention her? I guess she's hard to explain,” she said. “She's a friend of ours from camp. Sort of a long story, but basically, he helped her get away from her shitty stepdad, which convinced him to stop talking to his shitty dad. They're sort of, like, bonded forever now.”
“She's, like, fourteen.”
“Fifteen. But yeah. It's weird. Don't worry, they know.”
“You look weird,” Meg was saying to Apollo.
“You look weird,” he responded.
“No I don't.”
“Good comeback.”
“Like you can talk.”
“Yeah, I can. I’m talking right now.”
“You’re so dumb. Who’s this? Your boyfriend?”
They both looked over at me. I waved.
“Yes,” said Apollo, turning back to Meg. “That’s Jacob.”
“Do you know you’re dating a loser?” asked Meg.
“Um,” I said.
“Meg,” begged Apollo.
We had a very nice dinner where everyone tried very hard to talk about things that were comprehensible to me. Still, much of the conversation felt like it was being carried out in another language.
Austin went home to his mom’s after dinner. We set up the guest bed for Meg, the sofa bed for Kayla, and Will and Nico got sleeping bags on the living room floor. Apollo stayed up chatting with Meg in the kitchen, which everyone found normal. I didn’t. I listened at the bedroom door.
“So, are you gonna tell him?” asked Meg.
“I don’t know, Meg. It’s kind of a lot to take in. It’s only been a few months.”
“Yeah, but you liiiike him.”
“Oh, shut up McCaffrey.”
“You’ll freak him out either way, you know. If you don’t tell him, he’ll be weirded out.”
“Speaking from experience, here, Meg?”
“Whatever. I’m just saying.”
“I know. I know. I don’t know what to do.”
“Well, just don’t get him pregnant. We’ve got enough little you’s running around.”
Apollo laughed.
“Thanks, Meg. Tell my siblings that, maybe a lot of problems could be solved.”
“No, it’s just a you problem.”
“Yeah, okay.”
“I gotta go to bed, dude. But seriously. He’s gonna think you’re a total freak.”
“Is that worse than what he’s gonna think if I tell him the truth?”
“No clue. But at least you’ll be honest.”
“Thanks, Meg.”
“Night, Apollo.”
“Night.”
I quickly got into bed and tried to look casual when Apollo came in.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey,” I replied.
“You were listening, huh?”
I didn’t know how he knew, but I nodded. He sighed.
“I’ll tell you after I drop off the kids tomorrow, okay?” he said.
I nodded again. I didn't know how to feel, or if I would sleep at all that night. Apollo slid into the bed next to me and tentatively put his arm around me. He was warm and comfortable and I found myself drifting off more quickly than I expected. I dreamed of an ancient temple. I’d never seen it before, but it felt familiar.