by Jay Bell
Until one morning, when Tim woke to find a very large man standing over his bed.
“I don’t like the beard,” Marcello said. “Maybe when you’re older, but you’re too young and handsome for it now.”
“What are you doing here?” Tim said, pulling the covers up higher.
Marcello sat on the edge of the bed, Tim scooting over so one of his legs wouldn’t be crushed. “I need a favor. There’s a charity dinner tonight, and I’m short-staffed when it comes to waiters.”
“Fuck you,” Tim said. “I don’t need your money.”
Marcello looked over his shoulder at him, eyebrows raised. “I’m well aware of that. You would be doing me a favor, so I would owe you one in return. Having someone indebted to you is infinitely more valuable than money. You see, I can’t hire just anyone for this job. Even gay charities revolve around men, and beauty is more effective than crowbars at getting wallets to open.”
“Leave me alone.”
“This isn’t what Eric would want.”
Tim didn’t respond. Even hearing Eric’s name hurt too much.
“Seven o’clock, my house.” Marcello stood again. “If you aren’t there, I’ll bring the entire party here. Don’t think I won’t!”
Tim didn’t doubt it. Once Marcello was gone, he got out of bed and stomped and raged around the house. Then he took a long look in the mirror and saw a stranger. The beard was alien, his hair unruly, his complexion pale and bloodless. Marcello was right. This isn’t what Eric would want.
When he reported to Marcello’s house that night, the man of the hour wasn’t in sight. Instead, an Asian guy in charge of organizing the event had him dress in an outfit suited for a Chippendale’s dancer and informed him how the evening would work. Luckily it didn’t sound hard. Tim would only be handing out drinks, not serving food.
A speech in the main room was followed by applause. Tim sulked in the corner of the kitchen until the time came to bring out the champagne. Once in the midst of the party, he found he couldn’t maintain his foul mood, not while surrounded by so much life. Nearly six weeks alone in the house made the prospect of conversation enticing, and most of the men here were more interested in talking to him than getting a drink.
Marcello came over half an hour in, guiding him away from the crowd and to the side of the room. “Well, what do you think?”
Tim sighed. “You were right. I needed to get out of the house.”
“And shave.” Marcello smiled. “You look much better now. But I mean, what do you think of that?”
He pointed to one end of the room where a banner read The 1st Annual Eric Conroy Foundation Fundraiser.
Tim felt a lump in his throat. “What’s the foundation for?”
“To support the arts,” Marcello said with pride. “Mostly by funding underprivileged artists through scholarships. Eric always loved his art.”
And Tim loved the idea. “I’ll give everything Eric left to me.”
“No,” Marcello said with a chuckle. “The men here have plenty to spare. Eric wanted you to have what he gave you, not give it away. What he wanted most of all was for you to be happy. You’ve grieved, and you can keep grieving, but you also have to resume living. For Eric. For yourself. Understand?”
Tim nodded.
“Good. Now get back to work and make sure these men are all drunk and horny before I ask them for their hard-earned cash.”
Tim laughed as Marcello floated back into the crowd, graceful as a Zeppelin. All around voices were babbling, laughter filling the air. Life went on. Painful and treacherous as it may be, life went on.
__________
Part Three:
Austin, 2002
__________
Chapter Twenty-one
Ben.
Tim had dreamt of running into him countless times. Usually these fantasies were triggered by a visit home, especially around the holidays. Tim would go shopping, hit the mall, Walmart, or even the grocery store, and part of him would always be looking, just in case Ben was home visiting and needed to buy markers or whatever in the middle of the night.
One time Tim saw him, or so he thought, in the greeting card aisle. The person’s build was the same, the hair color right. Any other discrepancy in resemblance could be explained away by age. Tim browsed the cards, eyes never on the folded cardboard in his hand, until the other person had finally looked at him. And didn’t react. Not his Benjamin, then.
Outside these odd moments, Tim went on with his life, struggling through his last year of college and trying not to think about what the past had been or what the future held. So when he entered the coffee shop, annoyed by the loud espresso machines and bean grinders, his thoughts weren’t on the past at all. Instead he was looking forward to getting an Italian soda so he could return to the sunny weather outside. The clueless person in front of him was sounding out the words on the menu, so Tim glanced around in exasperation.
A pair of eyes darted away as he did so. Big expressive eyes that stood out against dark skin. Well, well! Allison Cross. Tim hadn’t seen her since the end of sophomore year. As always she looked good, if a little nervous, her attention locked stubbornly on the person she sat across from.
Blond hair, medium length, half covering the ears. His build was right too, but Tim didn’t need more evidence. If asked to paint those ears from memory, he couldn’t have. There was nothing significant about them, but seeing them now, even half obscured, got his neurons firing. Tim was already moving around the tables, feeling detached from the world, like in a dream. He could see the person’s profile now—the nose that curved upward ever so slightly at the tip, the brow cocked in an all-too-familiar “what the hell?” expression. Tim opened his mouth to speak the impossible.
“Benjamin?”
As soon as their eyes met, Tim felt light, as if the molecules in his body were separating and would soon dissipate, floating away in a happy cloud. Maybe this heady sensation caused him to reach out and place a hand on Ben’s shoulder. Even through the light blue T-shirt, Tim felt sparks—real, honest to goodness tingles.
Tim caught his breath. “It’s really you, isn’t it?”
Ben looked just as taken aback, mouth hanging open as he stared. Those lips, the pointy incisors, every detail was still so familiar. “Yeah,” came the answer.
They were together again. Finally. Already it felt so good. Except the feeling wasn’t mutual. Ben’s watery brown eyes turned hard as he jerked away his shoulder, breaking physical contact.
Damn.
“Man,” Tim breathed, grasping for a lifeline. “So are you just visiting or what?”
Ben’s jaw clenched. Tim could see a hint of afternoon stubble. That was new. He stared as Ben’s mouth formed words that puzzled him. “I’m enrolled here.”
“Since when? I thought you were in Chicago?” Tim looked at Allison for an explanation, but she focused on Ben, trying to explain everything in a meaningful expression.
“I’m guessing we go to the same school?” Ben asked her.
Allison pressed her lips together and nodded. “Yeah.”
“Jesus!” Tim took a seat. All these years and they had been so close without even knowing it.
“I have to go.” Ben stood, his chair scraping across the floor. He practically tripped over it on his way out the door.
Tim stared helplessly before turning a glare on Allison. “You should have told me!”
“Why?” Allison crossed her arms over her chest. “What would be the point? You might have pushed him away, but he made the decision to move on and never once said he regretted it.”
“Fine.” Tim watched through the window as Ben rushed off. “I know I fucked up, but things are different now.”
“Are they?”
He didn’t have time to answer her, not unless he wanted to risk another five-year separation. Maybe Tim should have searched for Ben in that time, and maybe Allison was right and there wasn’t a point. But now that Tim had seen Ben again, he
wasn’t going to let him get away without at least telling him one thing.
Tim was on his feet and out the door, leg muscles pushing hard against the concrete when he saw Ben was already halfway down the block. Not this time! Tim was running to him, not away. The world seemed to move in slow motion, as if no possible speed was fast enough to close the distance. Tim called his name, and eventually Ben halted, but he hung his head like it was the dumbest thing he’d ever done. The world sped up again, Ben just inches away from him now. Tim wanted to reach out and touch him but didn’t dare.
“Hey,” he tried.
Ben studied the ground. “What do you want?”
“I don’t know,” Tim admitted. “I just want to talk to you, I guess.”
After a barely perceptible shake of his head, Ben said, “I can’t.”
Can’t? Or won’t?
“I know you’re mad at me.” Tim lowered his head, trying to catch his eye, but Ben still wouldn’t look at him. This was bad! If he didn’t back off now, he would scare Ben away. But Tim couldn’t leave without a way of finding him again. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his cell phone. “Take this.”
Ben was so despondent Tim had to place the phone in his hand.
“I’ll call tonight, okay? We’re both in shock right now and need time to think, but I still want to talk to you. Cool?”
Ben nodded. Thank God, Allah, Santa Claus, or whoever was out there, because Ben nodded.
“All right. I’m going now.” Tim started to back away, but it was possible Ben would change his mind and throw away the phone. Then Tim would never see him again, so he decided to tell him the one thing he needed to say the most. “You were right, Benjamin.”
Ben raised his head, the line of his mouth relaxing. “About what?”
“About a lot of things.” They looked at each other for one eternal moment. “See you around!” Tim smiled at him, because if this was the end, Ben might as well know how he made him feel. Then he did one of the hardest things ever. He turned and walked away.
When Tim was sitting in his car again, he allowed himself a nervous laugh. Another chance. Was it possible? What in the world would he say when he called Ben tonight? What he needed was advice. Tim started the car, thinking of Eric before a dart of sorrow hit his heart. Fuck it. He wouldn’t let that stop him. Putting the car in drive, he headed across town to Austin Memorial Park where Eric was buried.
The grave was at the edge of the property, the last at the end of a row, shaded by trees. Tim came here sporadically, only sometimes feeling the need for extra closeness. As he parked his car, he was glad to see the wildflowers covering Eric’s grave were still thriving. The headstone could barely be seen beneath a floral wreath, which was just as well. Marcello had chosen the headstone, and although it was elegant, there wasn’t a grave in the world that Tim would describe as beautiful.
“I found him,” Tim said once he was sitting at the edge of the flowers. “I found Ben. Or he found me. Neither, I guess.” He laughed, picturing Eric’s patient expression. “I need to know what to do. I mean, I know what I want, but Ben didn’t seem happy to see me.”
He waited for comforting words he knew wouldn’t come, his thoughts wandering to the life he once shared with Eric. One fall day came to mind, when the weather was mild enough that he and Eric opened all the windows in the house. Then Gabriel had called, which was a rare occurrence. Eric went out on the back patio, staring into space or pacing occasionally as he spoke to him on the phone. Tim had sat nearby in the recreation room, pretending to read a magazine while listening as Eric laughed and chatted, mentioning names and places Tim wasn’t familiar with. The call had lasted nearly an hour, Eric smiling when he came back inside.
“I love that man,” he had said cheerfully.
“I don’t see how you can,” was Tim’s reply. “I mean, he left you for another person.”
“Ancient history. And besides, you never stop loving someone, no matter what happens. Do you still love Ben?”
“You know the answer to that.”
“And have you loved anyone since?”
That had given Tim pause. His relationship with Eric felt like love. But they were never intimate. Not physically.
Eric continued anyway. “Take it from an old man with a lot of experience. When you do fall in love again, you’ll still love Ben just as much. You might not think of him every day or yearn for him, but those feelings will still be there to catch you off guard. They never go away.”
Tim had been skeptical. “Tons of couples break up or get divorced.”
“Even love can’t stop people from becoming incompatible.”
Tim breathed in the scent of wildflowers, addressing the present once more. “I hope you were right. Ben and I are compatible now. I think. If he still loves me—” The thought was too huge to finish.
Tim allowed himself more time lost in thought, mulling it all over with Eric’s ghost. Then he stood, determined to make Benjamin Bentley love him again.
* * * * *
Had life existed before the Internet, a time when endless information wasn’t just a click of the mouse away? How else had people stalked their former flames, mapping a route to their houses in the middle of the night to peep in their windows? Tim hadn’t gone quite that far yet. He was leaning against his car and staring at dark windows, but from a respectable distance. Maybe Ben wasn’t at home.
Tim sighed, wishing he had more liquid courage coursing through his veins. Since his snowmobile accident, he was careful about drinking and driving, so he’d only indulged in one beer before coming here. While at the bar, he went over every possible outcome this night could have. Some were good. Most were bad.
Tired of wondering, Tim used the new phone he bought to call the one left with Ben. He watched the windows as it rang, waiting for one to light up. None of them did, even when the line clicked and Ben’s groggy voice answered.
“Hello?”
“Hey! Were you sleeping?”
Ben suddenly sounded much more alert. “No! I mean, yeah.”
“It’s only 11 p.m.,” Tim chided. “What sort of college boy are you?”
There was a heavy pause on the line. “Where were you?”
“Oh. I had a study group,” he lied, “and we went out for—”
“No. I mean, where were you?”
“What? You mean the last five years?” And there he goes, ladies and gentlemen! Benjamin Bentley, right out of the gate! “All right, uh, high school. Fuck. Senior year I went to Conroe High School instead.”
“Just to get away from me?”
“To get away from myself.” Tim paced in front of the duplex. All remained dark. Was this the wrong address? “Man, you aren’t going to make this easy, are you?”
“No.”
“Maybe doing this over the phone was a bad idea.” There! A light on the side of the house. Checking the street to make sure no one was watching, Tim walked toward it. “Can’t we meet up? Talk face to face?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
He reached the window and peeped in. Jackpot! Not only was Ben in bed, phone pressed between shoulder and ear as he flipped through some photos, but he was stark naked. Well, nearly. He had underwear on, but Tim could see enough to get his libido raging. Many a moon had passed since Tim had gotten laid, and the rush of hormones sent his courage meter hurtling up to the max.
“Why? Are you indecent?” The window was open, only a screen separating them. “Lying in your bed with nothing but your boxers on?”
Ben tensed and turned around.
“You’re still so damn scrawny!” Tim closed his phone. “But it suits you.”
Ben’s expression was pure disbelief. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Tim pressed his face against the screen. “Let me in before somebody calls the cops.”
“I should call them myself! How did you find me?”
“Looked up Allison in the phone book.” Another lie, but it sounded s
lightly less stalkerish. “C’mon, let me in.”
Ben flashed a hint of a smile before getting out of bed. Tim hurried around to the front door, like a dog desperate to get out of the rain. Except it was hot, humid, and sweaty out, which made him even hornier. When Ben opened the door, he was wearing a T-shirt. Unfortunately. Tim stepped close to him, but Ben placed a hand on his chest to hold him at bay and shook his head.
“You know what? This isn’t a good idea. Wait outside. I’ll get dressed and we can go for a walk.”
Tim shrugged and stepped back. The door closed. He took a deep breath, trying to summon his brain’s higher functions again. Ben wouldn’t let him off the hook unless he explained… well, everything. He strolled back to his car, wishing it was the old 3000GT, if only for the nostalgia factor. Still, a brand new Mazda Miata was easy on the eyes, and who didn’t love riding in a convertible? Tim leaned against the car, imaging Ben’s impressed response. Except when Ben came outside, he walked right past Tim and down the street.
“Same old Benjamin,” Tim said, hurrying to catch up. “Always knowing what you want and getting it.”
“Yeah, well, not everything’s the same.” Ben glanced over at him. “So how did Conroe High treat you?”
“Same shit, different school. Well, not completely the same. There was no you.”
The obvious flirtation was ignored. “What about girls?”
Tim fought down a grin. Ben was in for a big surprise if he thought girls were still in the picture. “Tried to avoid them. Just had a prom date senior year.”
“Krista Norman again?” Ben’s voice dripped with venom when he said her name. Eric would probably claim it proved underlying passion. Jealousy equals passion equals love—or something like that.
“No. Not Krista. I stopped seeing her shortly after we beat the crap out of Bryce.” That broke the ice. They both smiled at the memory, the space between them feeling a little warmer. “That was another reason to switch schools. I’m sure Bryce was aching for a rematch. They give you any more trouble?”
