Deleted Scenes: Isobel and Percival
There was just a ton of stuff in All the Birds in the Sky
that I had to cut, purely for length reasons. One of the things I was saddest
to lose was Isobel’s relationship. Isobel is the rocket scientist who befriends
Laurence when he’s a little kid—and in earlier drafts of the novel, we get to
know Isobel’s husband.
Spoilers ahead!
So later on in the book, the grown-up Laurence is living
with Isobel. But until pretty late in the editing process, it’s not just the
two of them—Percival, Isobel’s partner, is there too. Here’s some of the stuff I cut about the two
of them, just to make this book a little shorter….
Warning: There’s a wee bit of gay sex below, in case that bothers you.
Percival was home by the time they
returned with the burritos. He perched on the tip of the sofa in his stocking
feet, wearing a pinstripe jacket and skinny jeans. He was staring at some
silver-and-green drawings printed on shiny paper, but not like he was really
seeing them. As his curly hair had receded at the corners, Percival’s face had
gotten squarer, which actually suited him.
"Percival’s an architect,“
Laurence told Patricia while Isobel was pulling burritos out of the bag.
"He used to specialize in integrating vegetation into buildings, as a
natural water filtration system or ventilation or whatever. Nowadays, though,
he mostly works as a bio-artist, creating green installations for museums or
public spaces. The money is way better.”
"Don’t tell anyone,“
Percival said from the sofa, "but I don’t consider my work to be art at
all. I’m a traditionalist. I like a good painting or statue. I think art should
have a representational component. But if you pay me enough, I’ll pretend to be
an artist for a few hours.”
Laurence
went grocery shopping with Isobel and Percival. Isobel went into a tchotchke
store by herself, leaving Percival and Laurence on the sidewalk. “Hey,”
Percival said. “Just so you know, I’m moving out in a few days.”
"What?“
Laurence just stared at Isobel’s husband, who’d been around as long as Laurence
could remember, just sort of part of the furniture.
"Yeah,”
Percival put his hands in his tweedy pockets and put his shoulders way up.
“You’ve probably noticed that Isobel and I have been going through a rough
patch for a while now.” Actually, Laurence hadn’t noticed. Compared to
Laurence’s own parents, Isobel and Percival seemed pretty cordial. “We’ve
been trying to work through our shit. We’ve done a lot of couples therapy. And
it’s just not working, we both need a break.”
"So?“
Laurence had to twist himself into a weird shape to make eye contact with
Percival. "Man up, dude. You love her, you should fight for her. You don’t
just give up like this. What the hell? If everybody thought like you, the human
race would be long since extinct. Or we’d still be living in wattle-and-daub
lean-tos. You want life to be easy? It’s not going to be. It’s only going to
get harder and harder. For all of us. You want to survive and make a
difference, you pick a team and you stay on it. You find friends who’ve got
your back, and you stay close. You do not wuss out and go to…”
"Oslo,“
Percival said. "I’m going to Oslo.”
"Oslo.
You don’t do that. I thought you were better than this. I didn’t realize you
were a fucking quitter.“ Laurence was practically spitting. People in
Vegan fetishwear were staring at him, and Isobel was probably hiding inside the
store. "Seriously, I’m just…” Laurence flapped his arms, losing the
thread of his indignation. “I’m just disappointed in you. I thought better
of you, man. That’s all.” Percival walked away.
That
evening, Isobel and Laurence were watching TV, some sitcom. During a
commercial, Laurence told Isobel: “You’re better off without him. And I’m
here for you, you know that. Right?”
"Thanks.“
Isobel smiled, for the first time in ages. "That’s nice of you. Anyway, it
wasn’t Percival’s fault, it was mutual. We just both realized that this was not
going anywhere. And we’re at an age where our window to find the great love of
your life is an inch or two from closing. And just sticking with someone,
because you’ve learned what kind of sandwich they like, isn’t enough.”
"I’m
sorry I made a scene,“ Laurence said.
"I
think you freaked out Percival. He hates conflict.”
"I’ll
send him a card in Oslo,“ Laurence said.
Percival
ran his finger lightly along the dragonflies and mantises on Reginald’s
forearm. "How far up do these go?”
"My whole torso,
actually.“ Reginald realized this was the first time a man had touched him
in an age. "If you come back to my place, you can see for yourself.”
Later, when the two men were
intertwined naked, half under Reginald’s duvet and half on top of it, neither
of them knowing if this was an overnight or if Percival was going to be
leaving, Percival said: “Listen, you really should be prepared for the
worst. My ex-wife is the smartest person
I’ve ever met, and she’s sure there will be a lot more dominos falling. We
built the most complex economic system the world has ever seen, and we
overlooked major vulnerabilities in that complexity. And meanwhile, we were
messing with another complex system, the climate. The result of both of those
systemic failures will be so catastrophic, it makes my teeth ache to think
about.”
"So wait a minute.“
Percival propped himself up on one elbow. "You were married, to a woman?
How recently?”
"I can’t believe I just told
you the end is upon us, and you’re dwelling on the fact that I was in a
straight relationship.“
"My brain is too tiny to
encompass the apocalypse,” Reginald laughed, reaching for his stash of
medical marijuana. “The voyage of a person’s sexuality is just large
enough a mystery for me. Do you smoke?” They traded the one-hitter back
and forth, until the bed grew pungent. “Seriously. I want to hear about
it, if you don’t mind.”
"Isobel had her heart
broken,“ said Percival. "Not by me, but by rocketry. She believed
rockets would save the human race, and when her aerospace company failed, she
slowly became a person I couldn’t love any more, or maybe a person who couldn’t
love me any more. People so often are united by shared goals and ideals, it’s
hard to divide those things from the actual passion for each other.”
Reginald noticed Percival’s cock
ascending again, and thought that Percival’s parable about rockets and lost
love was oddly phallic. Aloud, Reginald said, “Perhaps the purest of all
loves is one that’s free of any ideals or shared philosophies. But that is also
the most boring of all loves.” He kissed Percival’s stubbly neck. Soon
they were groping and making out, and the one-hitter was left to smolder on the
nightstand. In the outside world, it was a wet, gloomy February. But inside
Reginald’s studio, it was the lusty month of May.
Top image: Ngader/Flickr
