Greeting Cards

by Tinnean

  Fred will be able to find out where Rick went! That wouldn’t be stalking, would it? I mean, I have no intention of following Rick to wherever he’s gone. And Ben could send him a card, just to let him know he’d moved—oh God, talk about stupidity! Rick was right when he teased Ben about having the IQ of a bunch of brussels sprouts. How could Rick get in touch with him if he didn’t know that Ben had moved?

  Ben refused to pay attention to the voice at the back of his mind that said Rick could have called him. Ben’s phone number hadn’t changed.

  Although Rick’s must have. Ben had tried to call once, but the man who had answered the phone told him no one named Rick was there.

  Okay, I’ll let him know where I am. And when he answers, I’ll know where he is and that he’s okay.

  THE address Fred gave him was in Wooster, another college town about a hundred miles from Greenedale. Ben found a card he thought wouldn’t make Rick barf all over his shoes, came up with a message that also wouldn’t make Rick toss his cookies, and mailed it at the post office, so it would get there soonest.

  He tore up Rick’s address as soon as he got home. The idea was to convince Rick to come home, not piss him off with a barrage of messages, and the last thing Ben wanted was to have temptation knocking on his door.

  And… if he had to, he could always rely on Fred to get him the address again.

  BEN was proud of himself. He didn’t start to haunt the mailbox until a week after he’d mailed the card to Rick.

  He didn’t really think Rick would answer him, but he hoped—oh God, how he hoped!—that after the months apart, Rick would have had time to realize that what they’d had was too good to throw away.

  If he were truthful with himself, he’d have to admit that Rick had actually been gone for longer than three months. Oh, his body had been there in the apartment they shared, but that was all.

  Hindsight was supposed to be twenty/twenty, but he still couldn’t pinpoint the moment when Rick had grown bored with him, with them.

  They’d been together since high school. Ben had known he didn’t have the smarts to get into college, not even DeKalb Community College, but that was okay. His dad and uncles were electricians, and they’d gotten him into the local union, which dealt with low voltage. He wired office buildings for multiline telephones and internet access and did occasional side jobs for private homes. His job entailed a lot more skill and knowledge than Rick and his friends gave him credit for.

  Ben didn’t resent the fact that he’d worked harder than Rick, taking those side jobs when he had to in order to cover the insurance on the sporty little car Rick drove. As a grad student who was working on his master’s degree, the only job Rick could get was as a teaching assistant; he just hadn’t had the time to work a job that paid more than minimum wage, which barely kept him in lunches at Burger King, never mind the Dockers and Nikes he favored.

  They’d both enjoyed going out clubbing on the weekend. When had they stopped doing fun things together?

  He must have been the world’s worst boyfriend not to see the extra hours he was putting in were damaging his relationship with Rick, but those hours were for them, to build up the savings account slated for the house they were going to buy together.

  In the PS in the note Rick had left, he’d said he was only withdrawing his share, which would have been about a quarter of what was in there. But Ben had been stunned to see how much the account had been depleted; apparently Rick considered his share to be a good deal more than he’d deposited.

  Not that Ben didn’t think Rick should have that money, if he needed it. Rick had had to put up with a lot from him toward the end. Ben would come home dirty and sweaty, and while Rick used to say he liked the way Ben smelled after a hard day’s work, in the months before he’d left, he’d push him away. “Take a shower,” he’d snap. “You smell like a tramp!”

  Which wasn’t fair, but Ben would go into the bathroom and get washed up.

  BY the second week after he’d mailed the card, Ben was becoming antsy. He’d race home from work and rifle through the mail, but there was nothing with the Wooster postmark.

  By the third week, his boss was getting ticked. “Jesus, Haggerty, would you get a grip?”

  “I just have to—” The certainty that Rick had answered him today was so strong that he had to go home to see what was in that day’s mail.

  His boss gave a helpless shrug. “All right, go.”

  “I’ll be right back! You won’t even have time to miss me!”

  “Doubtful,” the boss said, but Ben was out of there before the last syllable.

  Caravan Point was so large, it had its own mailperson who went from door to door, delivering the mail through the individual slots.

  Ben almost dropped his key twice, but he finally got it into the lock. He was careful turning it, because the last thing he wanted to do was break it off. Finally, he pushed open the door and stared avidly at the pile of mail on the floor.

  Bills, advertising flyers. Requests for political donations.

  Nothing. Not one fucking thing from Rick.

  He banged his head against the door frame.

  God, what was he doing to himself? Even though Rick had promised he was coming back to him, it had been three months… almost four now…. How much longer could he go on like this?

  Chapter 2

  JASON got the first card on St. Patrick’s Day. He recognized the Hallmark envelope—the gold crown on the back flap was a dead giveaway—and he had to smile. That was his big sister. She’d send a card at the drop of a hat, even now that she was married. He could count on one arriving for every known holiday, and some that weren’t well known, such as National Sisters Day, even though he was Jen’s brother. He especially liked the card she’d sent for Hug a GI Day earlier in the month, because he was gay, she knew it, and it didn’t matter to her.

  He’d come out to her when he was sixteen. God, he’d been so scared. “Jen… do you still love me?”

  “Jason Prescott, if you ever say anything so idiotic again, I’ll give you such a hit! I’ll love you forever. And so will the rest of our family!”

  And while it had taken his dad some time to get used to the idea—“Are you going to start dressing like Liza Minnelli now?”—he’d completely forgotten about it when Eddie, Jason’s twin, announced his girlfriend was pregnant and they were getting married. Of course she wasn’t and they weren’t, but it took the spotlight off Jason long enough for his dad to realize there were worse things in life than having a gay son. Especially since that gay son wouldn’t be making anyone pregnant.

  Smiling at the memory of that day and those cards, he brought this one in with the rest of the mail—bills, the latest issues of TV Guide and People, and an envelope he knew would contain address labels from a charity that wanted a donation. He set those aside, scrounged up the letter opener, and slit the flap of the envelope, curious to see what his sister had sent this time.

  Knowing Jen, he wouldn’t be surprised to find a card she’d saved from Halloween or Christmas, or even one wishing him a very merry un-birthday when it wasn’t his birthday. Just as on his actual birthday, he could look forward to a card saying something like “Happy Seventy-Fifth!” which was what she’d sent when he’d turned twenty-three a few months ago.

  Oh. Turned out it was none of the above. On the front was the saddest-eyed basset hound he’d ever seen. And the words that encircled it…. I miss you more than words can tell? Okay, Jason’s sister could be a little wacky. A couple of years ago, after he’d obtained his first master’s degree and announced he was pulling on his big boy pants and moving to a place of his own—which was only two miles away from home—she’d sent him a card that said “Make your birthday a spiritual occasion” with “birthday” crossed out and “moving away” neatly printed above it.

  This card, though, it appeared too… normal.

  Nothing was crossed out on this, so the kicker must be inside. It would either be some ridic
ulously saccharine printed sentiment or else something so inappropriate, it would take him weeks of dedicated hunting to find a card that would top it.

  He opened the card, startled to see it was all handwritten, and not in his sister’s elegant penmanship. This was a very neat, but obviously masculine hand, and he scanned it quickly.

  Hmm. This wasn’t from anyone he knew. It must have come to him by mistake, and it seemed to be from a guy whose girl had left him.

  Sweetheart, he read.

  First of all, Merry Christmas. I know it’s belated, but I hope you had a wonderful holiday. The next line had been covered with whiteout, and written over it was, Mine was fine.

  It’s been more than three months. I know you asked me to give you some space, but I can’t stand this silence between us any longer.

  I keep asking myself what I did to drive you to the point that you felt you had to leave—whatever it was, I regret it more than I can say. Please forgive me.

  Jason frowned. No man should grovel like that. Already he didn’t like this woman.

  I couldn’t stay in the apartment we shared for the past three and a half years, so I’ve moved to a condo at Caravan Point. I’m sure you remember it. We used to make fun of the old farts who lived there. Whoever thought I’d be one of them one day?

  I’m including my new address.

  An address label was stuck on the left side of the card. He lived in Greenedale, which was just a hundred or so miles west of Wooster, and his name was Ben Haggerty.

  Jason liked the name. It sounded rugged, like someone who worked with his hands. He’d always had a weakness for that kind of man, although he’d never dated one. They’d seemed so tough and competent, while he was just a perpetual student who was lucky if he could screw in a light bulb the right way.

  If Mr. Haggerty were younger—and not hopelessly in love with someone else—would he look twice at Jason?

  He sighed. There were only a few more lines, and he resumed reading.

  You said you’d come back to me, but when? I love you, sweetheart, and I miss you so much.

  Please write, if only to let me know you’re okay. It will be eight years in a few months, and that’s too long a time to throw away.

  Always,

  Ben

  Poor old guy. Jason felt sorry for him, especially considering how heartbroken he sounded even after three months.

  But eight years together. Wow. Jason had never been in love with anyone for longer than a week, but during those seven days his feelings had burned hot and high. Once it was over, though, and after another week or two to recover, he’d be back in the saddle.

  It was obvious that Mr. Haggerty was still pining for her.

  God, wouldn’t it be wonderful to have someone miss me to that degree? Jason thought. All his boyfriends either moved on or became just regular friends.

  How did this card wind up coming to him? He flipped over the envelope. It was his address, but the name was pretty much illegible. All he could make out were the first four letters of the last name: P-r-e-s. Ben—Mr. Haggerty must have used one of those roller ball pens. The ink could smear at times, especially if it got wet. And there was no return address. The person who sorted the mail could have thought it was for him.

  As for the address, maybe one of the numbers was transposed, or maybe it should have been East Walker Run, instead of East Walker Bend, which was his street.

  Slightly under the most recent postmark was one that was three months old. Poor old guy, Jason thought again. He’d been waiting all this time. Well, the least I can do is let him know the woman who left him isn’t ignoring him. She just hadn’t gotten his card.

  Jason trotted down to the lower level of his house, where a spare bedroom was actually his study. The desk took up a corner of the room, and he sat down in front of it and pulled out the right-hand drawer. He kept a variety of greeting cards in there and had one all picked out for his sister for Extraterrestrial Abduction Day—he’d have to get that in the mail today if he wanted her to receive it by the twentieth. He grinned as he looked through the cards. It had been a tossup between that and National Clam on the Half Shell Day for March 31, but he knew Jen would get a bigger kick out of the aliens.

  Now, what kind of card to choose for Mr. Haggerty? On the one hand, Jason’s parents had raised him to be respectful of his elders, and given that, Mr. Haggerty deserved something a little more serious. On the other hand, he needed something to raise his spirits. On the third hand—

  “Argh! I’m making myself crazy!”

  Eventually, Jason decided to go with a conservative “Thinking of you” card that happened to have four basset hound puppies in a Radio Flyer wagon. Then he sat there, tapping his pen against his front teeth, trying to come up with something that made sense.

  After a while, he began writing.

  Dear Mr. Haggerty,

  This afternoon, the card you sent to the woman you’re missing so much arrived in my mailbox. I don’t know how that happened—

  Well, he was pretty sure he did, but he was too polite to tell the old guy he might be losing it.

  —but there you have it.

  I’m writing to let you know this so you won’t think your sweetheart is deliberately ignoring you.

  He read it over a few times, but that seemed to encompass everything he wanted to say.

  Yours sincerely,

  Jason Prescott

  A sudden thought occurred to him, and he added a PS.

  I think the card was really sweet….

  No, he’d better not say that; it would come across as too gay, and straight men tended to get weirded out by stuff like that. He got the whiteout and once he’d covered the offending word, he wrote:

  …nice, and I’m sure your lady will think so too. Basset hounds are the best, aren’t they? My mom raises them, and one day she’s promised me one of the puppies. Anyway, I’m returning the card to you so you can send it to your lady again. I hope you won’t be offended if I tell you I think she was wrong not to have contacted you. I also hope she’ll come back to you. Oh, and I apologize for reading the card. I thought it was from my sister, who lives in Greenedale too. She’s the world’s biggest smart aleck, and before I realized it wasn’t, I was in the middle of it.

  Okay, he really needed to stop now. He’d been about to wish him a happy Submarine Day. If he did something like that, the old guy was going to think he was dealing with a total nut job.

  He scrawled Jason after the last word, and then rummaged around for an envelope large enough to hold both cards. It would be a good thing to get it in the mail as soon as possible. He addressed the envelope and slid the cards into it, put six stamps on the upper corner to be on the safe side, and finally, sealed it. Gathering up Jen’s card as well, he jogged up the stairs, grabbed his jacket, and headed out, intending to walk down to the post office, rather than drive.

  It was only after he dropped the cards into the mailbox that it occurred to him that the woman might have already returned to Mr. Haggerty. After all, it was six months now. Or maybe he’d sent her another card.

  Damn, I wish there was a way for me to find out. I’ve got his address…. No, that wouldn’t be cool.

  But he had the feeling he would continue to wonder about Ben Haggerty and his sweetheart for a long time to come.

  Chapter 3

  BEN had given up waiting for a card… a letter… something… anything from Rick. He’d realized he was only fooling himself on the day when he’d fought down the urge to leave work and go home to check the mail, thinking that lack of action would change his luck, that this time there would be an answer.

  But there hadn’t been, and he’d given up, although there were still days when he’d see what looked like a greeting card mixed in with the mail, and his heart would turn over. But those “cards” were simply advertising.

  It had been more than six months now. His boss and Annie, and even Fred Lancaster, were urging him to start dating again. He’d smi
le and agree with them, but the truth of the matter was, he’d never dated, and he didn’t know how.

  Back in high school, the girls had all treated him like a younger brother, even when he was older than them. And the boys… well, he just worked hard at not staring. That was probably what enhanced his reputation as being a dim bulb—he’d let his eyes go all unfocused, and that seemed to do the trick. Somehow he’d become the class mascot.

  Rick was one of the smartest kids in Eli Whitney High. He’d transferred in their junior year when his guardians moved to DeKalb. No one could understand why such upper-middle-class people would want to live in their little blue-collar town, and since they kept pretty much to themselves, no one ever found out why.

  It had surprised Ben that Rick would even say hello to him, given how his eyes tended to become even more glazed whenever Rick was around. But Rick not only said hello, he wanted to be friends with him.

  And then a funny thing had happened.

  “Uh… Ben?”

  “Yeah, Rick?” Ben was doing his unfocused eyes thing.

  “Would you do me a favor?”

  Ben’s eyes became so focused so fast, he thought for a minute they were going to fall out of his head and roll around on the floor. Was his fondest dream about to come true? Was Rick going to ask Ben to blow him?

  “I… uh… I’m having some trouble in shop. Would you mind helping me?”

  Ben? Tutor Rick? Well, it wasn’t as good as blowing him, but they’d be spending time together. “Sure, why not? Mr. Martini’ll open the room for me.” It had to be kept locked because of all the tools. Not only were they sharp, but they were expensive.

  “Cool beans! Let’s go!”

  That had been the best semester of Ben’s entire time in high school. That was, until the night of their senior prom.

  Of course Ben went stag, but he’d been surprised that Rick didn’t show up with a date. Rick didn’t have a problem finding a partner to dance with, and neither did Ben. He couldn’t help grinning a little at how Rick’s jaw dropped when he took to the floor with Carolyn Milner, the prettiest girl in the senior class. He might not be smart, but he could dance.