COMING HOME
Chapter 2
Eric left, and returned to his hotel. He felt oddly dispirited. He had never really expected to find Horatio, and he was conscious he hadn't thought through what would happen if he did. He hadn't allowed for seven years of change, in both of them. He only hoped they would both relax over dinner. With a sigh, he stripped off and went to shower. As he washed, he thought over their conversation. He realised that Horatio had not only surprised him, but hurt him. He hadn't expected that he would virtually dismiss his past… That his fabled 'team' appeared to have meant very little to him. Logically, he told himself that Horatio had been alone, 'on the run', for seven years; that he'd probably developed a protective façade over anything he had once felt. But his harsh remarks had hurt…
He stepped out and towelled his hair. He accepted he'd surprised Horatio, shocked him, by appearing out of the blue. Had that caused an outpouring of truth? Or, on the contrary, was he saying what he had to discourage further contact? Whatever… it would all be over after tonight. Eric was scheduled to fly back to Miami the next day. He'd go home with Horatio's phone number. And very mixed feelings. He had so wanted a loving reunion…
He slowly dried himself, and selected something to wear. Realising he had an hour or so to kill, he lay down on the bed, locked his hands behind his head, and went on thinking. This was not the Horatio he remembered. The man he had just talked to seemed to care about nothing and no one. Had he really changed that much? Eric doubted it – the Horatio he had known cared about everything – his team, his victims… justice… though not himself. He had never cared much about himself. He took risks, with his physical well-being and with his career. What Eric had just experienced seemed to be a complete turnaround. Or an act…
Horatio was also in the shower. He stood under the hot water for a long time. He felt peculiarly unsettled, almost depressed. He had meant what he had said, that it was wonderful to see his brother-in-law. It was, almost overwhelmingly so, but it was the first time, in seven long years, that he'd been forced to confront his past. Probably it was a good thing, but he hadn't exactly been prepared for it, nor the feelings it aroused. He knew he'd been uncharacteristically blunt in some of the things he'd said. He'd seen the upset in Eric's face. He felt guilty, particularly as he hadn't even been that truthful. The ability to dismiss past relationships was something he'd developed, in order to maintain some sort of sanity, and to fend off any nosy inquiries. He hadn't meant to hurt Eric – he'd never do that willingly – but the shock of seeing him had been so great that he'd said things without any great thought of the effect his words might have. He was severely out of practice with personal conversations. He knew he'd have to try to put things right over dinner. The trouble was, he didn't want to remember. Didn't want to dwell on what he'd left behind. What he'd lost. He'd almost reached equilibrium, but seeing Eric again had shattered that.
"You're an idiot, pal," he told himself, aloud. "The one person who really cares about you." Or cared, once – and he'd been cruelly casual about the man's sister, his one-time wife; about Calleigh, whom Eric probably still cared for; about the 'team', which had meant so much to them all… once. "Why did you do that, eh?" Worse, was any of it actually true? He only knew he should have chosen his words more carefully.
In the back of his mind, he'd known for a while that he'd have to go back to Miami soon, if only temporarily. He still owned a condo there, one that he had been very fond of, but one which had been rented out for a long time. He wondered what state it was in; whether it could ever feel like 'home' again. Also, he had a storage unit full of the contents of that condo. Clothes – which would be seven years out of date – books, CDs… all sorts. It was costing him – he needed to go and empty it, one way or another. Maybe Eric's visit would spur him into action.
By eight o'clock Eric felt better. If the reunion hadn't met his expectations, at least he could draw a line under it. He met Horatio in the lobby of the hotel. They hadn't discussed where to eat, but both were dressed 'smart-casual', in accordance with New Orleans' relaxed dress code. Eric was struck again by how well Horatio looked – younger than his sixty-six years. Whatever else, being retired obviously suited him.
"Where are we going?"
Eric chuckled. "I was going to ask for your recommendation… Before that though – do you mind coming to meet someone?"
"I don't know… Who?"
"The guy who helped me find you. You'll like him." He could see the reluctance in Horatio's face, and added, "Just a quick visit, promise…"
Malachi was in his usual seat. He tipped his hat to Eric, then looked at Horatio. A smile spread over his wrinkled features. "You found him then…"
Eric smiled. "I did, thanks to you. Horatio… Malachi…"
They shook hands. "I'm glad. Your man here was breakin' his heart over you."
Eric felt himself flushing at the old man's turn of phrase, but Horatio smiled. "Really? Were you, Eric?"
"Well, not that bad…"
Malachi chuckled. "You say." He summoned the bar tender. "Get my friends here a drink."
Eric sipped his drink, watching Horatio and Malachi chatting amiably. After a while, he leant in and interrupted. "Where should I take him for dinner, Malachi?"
"I thought maybe Kelly's," Horatio added.
"No so good, man. It was, but it's got a new chef… Not always up to standard. Or so I heard."
They both looked expectantly at him.
Malachi pushed his hat back, and scratched his almost bald scalp, while he thought. "You a fisherman… You like eatin' 'em too?"
Horatio nodded.
"You should try The Old Fish Quay then. Ain't cheap…"
"That's all right," Eric said quickly.
"Ain't nuttin' to look at either… But you won't get better fish. So fresh you need to check it ain't still flappin'."
"I've never heard of it," Horatio said.
Malachi smiled, tapping the side of his nose. He gave them directions and they left.
It took some finding. After walking down a badly lit side street, which had Horatio muttering, 'I wish I'd got my gun…' and Eric agreeing, adding, 'Whatever is that old man thinking?', they were considering turning back, sure they had misunderstood.
"We must be near the river," Horatio said.
"Well, if it was a 'fish quay'… Hey, here it is…"
The restaurant had a plain frontage, its name on an unassuming door. They went in, and up some stairs. The place opened out, and delicious smells assailed their nostrils.
"Risk it?" Eric asked with a smile.
"Sure, why not?"
From what they could see, the patrons were an eclectic mix, but the tables and booths were so arranged as to give some privacy. The lights weren't over bright, and the music came, live, courtesy of a piano in the corner. Shutters on one side were pulled back, revealing a terrace, with the Mississippi rolling by outside. As they were shown to a table, they noticed that most diners were sharing vast platters of assorted seafood. Horatio noted shrimp, crabs, oysters, and strips of other unidentified fish.
He murmured to Eric, "Shall we have that?"
"Yeah. Looks good."
As they waited for their meal, Eric felt Horatio studying him.
"What?"
"I was just wishing I could start this afternoon's conversation again…"
"Oh?"
"Well… I said things… I upset you…"
Eric shrugged. "If that's how you felt. You don't owe me anything."
"Not true, brother… And neither were some of the things I said. I've… adopted this hard-ass exterior… It's the only way I could exist. And I found I couldn't drop it that easily."
Eric remained silent.
"Give me another chance?"
"Of course, but only if you tell me the truth – how you really feel about the past. Don't just say things to make me feel better."
"That's fair." Their meal was delivered to their table; plates, forks, dips and seasonings; and a huge array of seafood. "I hope you're hungry…"
They seemed tacitly to agree to eat first, talk later. They soon found out that Malachi's recommendation had been spot-on.
"You know?" Eric murmured, breaking a claw off a crab, "I can't think of anywhere in Miami that's this good."
Horatio, mouth full, nodded.
Finally, after making good inroads into the platter, Eric rinsed his fingers, and leant back in his chair. "God, I'm full!"
Horatio chuckled. "I've eaten too much. I'll be up all night." At Eric's raised eyebrows, he added, "Indigestion. Price of getting old."
"Good though."
The waiter came to clear the table. "Dessert, gentlemen?"
"Give us ten minutes…"
They relaxed, and Eric watched Horatio hesitate over starting to speak. "Go on… What did you really mean to say?" he prompted.
TBC
