Timothy

by Greg Herren

  I gave her a weak smile.

  “I’m sorry I was just too tired last night to talk to you—but then again, it was probably for the best anyway. One can’t really talk about anything truly serious at a party.” She yawned again and leaped to her feet when Olivia rapped on the open door. She carried in another carafe of coffee and a cup for Joyce, which she set down on the desk next to my tray.

  “Shut the door, will you, Olivia?” I asked pleasantly.

  Joyce quickly gulped down a cup of coffee and moaned in pleasure.

  “I don’t know what there is to talk about,” I replied, pouring a second cup for myself. “Really, Joyce, everything’s fine.”

  “Carlo was being a jackass last night, and he needs to apologize to you, that much is for certain.” She sipped at her coffee and moaned again with pleasure. “My God, I wish my cook could make coffee half as good as Delia’s! If Carlo wasn’t my brother I’d steal her right out from under him.”

  “I’m fine, Joyce, really.” I ate a piece of toast and swallowed it down with some coffee. “I was kind of a wreck last night, I admit, but you know, it was a rough night for me. But I have it under control this morning, really. Last night I was ready to pack up and get out of here. But this morning it doesn’t seem nearly as hopeless as it did when I was caught up in all the emotions. I love Carlo, and I’m not giving up without a fight.”

  “I’m so glad to hear that,” she replied. “Carlo really does love you, Mouse. I haven’t seen him this happy in years. And as for Timothy—”

  I stopped her. “Joyce, thank you and I appreciate your concern—but I don’t want to talk about Timothy with anyone other than Carlo.” I took a deep breath. “All this time I’ve been too afraid to mention him or bring him up, but that’s been the wrong approach. We need to bring everything out into the open, talk about it, and then we can move on.”

  “But you’re all wrong—”

  “The party was lovely, Joyce.” I changed the subject firmly. “And thank you so much for taking charge the way you did. You did an excellent job.”

  “I—” She paused and looked at me, and held up her hands. “Okay, you win. But promise me you’ll talk to Carlo about it today—that you’re going to clear the air once and for all.”

  I smiled at her and raised my right hand, like I was swearing on a Bible to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. “Joyce, I solemnly swear to you that I am going to get everything straightened out with my husband.” I winked at her. “Now, can we change the subject?”

  She nodded and gave me a relieved smile. “I thought the party went extremely well, don’t you?”

  I nodded, and she stood up, yawning. “I think I’m going to go shower now, and see if I can get Frank up.” She smiled at me, and leaned down and kissed me on the cheek. “Seriously, Mouse, you ARE the best thing to HAPPEN to Spindrift in YEARS.”

  After she left, I finished my breakfast and changed into a yellow pullover shirt and a pair of jeans. I hugged Minette and took a deep breath. “Wish me luck, girl,” I whispered to her, “I’m going to go face down the dragon.”

  She wagged her tail happily.

  Olivia was in the hallway putting yellow roses into a vase when I walked out of my room. I took a deep breath and steeled my nerve. “Olivia, do you know where Carson is, by any chance?”

  She smiled. “I believe he’s in the east wing, sir.”

  “Thank you.” I replied and started to walk away. But after taking a few steps, I stopped and turned back to her. “Olivia, I want to thank you.”

  She looked puzzled. “Whatever for, sir?”

  “You’ve been wonderful ever since I came here,” I replied sincerely. “And you do an amazing job. I just wanted you to know I’ve noticed, and I deeply appreciate it.”

  She colored. “Th-thank you, sir.”

  I turned and walked away, heading for the east wing.

  I knew exactly where I’d find him, and I was right.

  He was in Timothy’s rooms.

  The door was open, and he was changing the linens on the bed. I stood in the doorway and watched as he spread the covers back over the bed and tucked the red velvet bedspread underneath the pillows. I stepped over the threshold and slammed the door shut behind me.

  He straightened up and turned to face me, raising an eyebrow. In his usual aloof, disdainful tone, he said, “Is there something you need, sir?”

  I’d never hated anyone so thoroughly in my life as I hated Carson in that instant. I remembered every rude thing he’d said to me, the contemptuous way he spoke to me, the disdain in his every glance. I’d put up with his horrible behavior for far too long. The costume was the last straw. I wanted nothing more than to slap that look right off his face and hurl invectives at him. Instead, I maintained my own composure. “Yes, Carson.” I walked over to the window and pulled the curtains back. I spun around and faced him, a big smile on my face. “I want this room emptied.”

  He paled, but his face was impassive. “Emptied, sir?”

  “Yes, emptied.” I walked over to the closet and threw the door open. “All these clothes—I want them bagged up and disposed of. Everything that was his—I want it all gone. I don’t care what you do with these things. Give them to some charity, drag it all outside and burn it—I don’t really care. But I want everything gone by Monday—and I am including the furniture in that. I want this room completely stripped down to bare bones—it’s time for these rooms to come back to life, and the sooner the better.”

  He stepped closer to me. “You might think you’re going to get rid of Mr. Timothy by getting rid of his things, but they’re just that—things.” He stroked the curtain hanging around the bed. “You’ll never get him out of Mr. Carlo’s heart, you know. This house—this room—will always be Mr. Timothy’s. You’ll never change that.”

  “Well, we’ll just see about that, won’t we?” I smiled brightly at him. “You seem to have forgotten something very important, Carson—Timothy’s dead. And all this—” I waved my hands around. “Keeping his rooms ready for him, like he’s going to walk back through the door at any minute? Dead means dead, Carson. He’s gone and he’s never coming back. And keeping the rooms like this is just sick.”

  He didn’t react. He just kept standing there and looking at me.

  “And by the way, I wanted to thank you for all your help with my costume for the ball.”

  He didn’t say anything.

  “You’ve hated me ever since I came here,” I went on. “You’ve undermined me, treated me with contempt, and what you did last night was unforgivable.”

  The reserve broke. “Of course I hate you!” he snapped. “Coming here, to Mr. Timothy’s house, trying to take his place. I won’t have it.” He walked over to the closet and got out a cashmere sweater. He held it to his face and smelled it. “You don’t know anything. Mr. Timothy was everything you aren’t. He was smart and funny and kind, stylish and—”

  “A whore.” I interrupted him. “He was nothing but a cheap little whore who couldn’t keep his pants up.”

  His eyes blazed. “And what of it?” he sneered. “Mr. Timothy didn’t care about any of those people. He thought it was fun to toy with them and their emotions. That idiot trainer, Taylor Hudson—he would come back from the studio after meeting one of them there, and he would laugh about how stupid they were, how easy it was to make them fall in love with him. It was all a game to him, and why shouldn’t he have some fun with his life?” His voice broke. “And then he died because I wasn’t here that day. I could have saved him had I been here. It wouldn’t have happened if I had just been here.”

  Despite everything I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him in his grief. “Carson—”

  “And then he brings you here. To Mr. Timothy’s house, like someone like you could ever take his place.”

  And my sympathy was gone in that instant.

  “You’re forgetting something, Carson,” I said, allowing myself a little smile.
>
  “What?”

  “This is Carlo’s house, not Timothy’s. And now it’s mine.” I paused at the door. “I want all of his clothes gone by the end of today and this furniture out of here by Monday afternoon—or you’re fired…and I’ll see to it you never work again.” I slammed the door behind me and walked down the hall.

  By the time I reached the grand staircase I was close to hyperventilating. I stood there for a few moments, taking deep breaths and trying to get my heart rate to slow down.

  That really wasn’t so hard, I thought as I felt myself returning to normal. You should have never put up with anything from him in the first place.

  There was a part of me that hoped he wouldn’t clean out the room, so I could fire him.

  As I walked down the stairs my confidence began rising again. I had done it, after all. And after Timothy’s rooms were cleared out, the studio would be next. I would use it as an office, where I would work on my writing once the demons were exorcised. If Carson didn’t like it, he could quit. I could run the house myself. I didn’t need Carson—we didn’t need him.

  And now I was going to make everything right with my marriage.

  Carlo was on the phone when I reached his office. He nodded to me as I entered and shut the door behind me. He looked pale.

  “Uh-huh……yes…of course, yes…I understand…yes.”

  He hung up the phone and looked at me, his face incredibly sad. “Well, that’s that.” He laughed bitterly. “It’s all over.” He shook his head. “I owe you an apology, Mouse. I was rather beastly to you last night, and I’m terribly sorry—you have no idea how sorry I am, Mouse. The last thing in the world I would ever want to do is hurt you—and all I’ve done, over and over again, is hurt you.”

  “I don’t mind, really.” I started to walk toward him, but the look on his face stopped me. “What is it, Carlo? What was that phone call? You don’t look well.”

  “I was stupid to think I could ever be happy again. I’m sorry, Mouse.”

  My heart dropped into my stomach. I opened my mouth but no words came out. I couldn’t think of anything to say. I felt the tears rising in my eyes. He didn’t love me, he wanted me to go. “Carlo—”

  “I knew it would eventually come back, these things always do.” He went on, pacing around the room. “It was always just a matter of time. I stayed away, thinking that would do the trick—but no, I couldn’t forget. Always I remembered, always. And I tried everything I could think of to make me forget. But nothing worked and then I met you.” He gave me a weak smile. “I thought—when I met you I thought we might be able to be happy together. You were sweet, such a sweet young boy so full of love with no one to give it to, and you made me smile, you made me forget for a time.”

  “Carlo, please.” I finally said, trying to keep the tears back. “We can still be happy.”

  “No, Mouse, we can’t.” He gestured to the phone. “You asked who that was. It was the sheriff calling me to tell me. The call I always knew would come, the sword of Damocles that’s been hanging over my head. You see, someone found him.”

  “Found who?”

  “Timothy.”

  I sat down hard in a chair, unable to believe what I was hearing. “Timothy?” I was having trouble breathing.

  “I always knew they would find him, you know.” He sighed. “I’m so sorry, Mouse, I never should have married you and involved you in all of this.”

  “I know you loved him—”

  “Loved him?” He stared at me in shock. “You aren’t listening to me, Mouse. A fisherman found him a few days ago—tangled in his nets. They only were able to identify him this morning.”

  “I—I don’t understand.” I gaped at him. “What are you talking about?”

  “I didn’t love Timothy, Mouse—I hated him. I hated him as much as any human being can hate another human. I’ve been such an incredible fool.” He rubbed his eyes. “A fisherman found him, Mouse, do you understand me? They found him, after all this time, like I always feared they would.”

  “I—”

  “I hated him, Mouse. I hated him, and I killed him. And now they’ve found his body.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  The room was silent.

  I was very aware of the sound of my breathing, the beating of my heart. Outside in the far distance I could hear a lawn mower engine starting with a dull roar. Behind us I could still hear the workers talking and shouting to each other, sometimes laughing, as they kept up their efforts to return the back lawn to a semblance of normalcy, what it had been before the ball. If not for these distant sounds it seemed like time had somehow come to a stop, that we were frozen somehow outside of time and space, forever just staring at each for an eternity. I remember noticing there was thin coating of dust on the end table next to my chair, and idly thinking I would need to speak to Juana about it, and that there was stubble on Carlo’s pale face.

  I sat there, not saying anything, not knowing what if anything I could say in response, even though I could see the agony of suspense on his own face in addition to the anguish in his eyes. I was in some sort of shock. All I could do was sit there in my chair, looking at him, my mouth open like a fool, unable to think or say anything.

  “How you must hate me now,” he said finally, his voice soft and sad, “although I can’t say that I blame you. But please, let me explain. May I at least tell you how it was for me, for the two of us in our marriage? Maybe then you can find some understanding—and maybe even some forgiveness—in your heart for me.”

  “Did you—did you ever love him?” I heard the words coming out of my mouth. My voice sounded hollow and distant, like I was speaking in another room.

  “Yes.” His face became grim. “My parents were always very supportive of my sexuality, Mouse. I told them the truth when I was a teenager, and while they were clearly disappointed I wouldn’t have any children, they also made it clear they loved me and would support me no matter what. They just wanted me to be happy—although I did wonder about that when they so clearly disapproved of Joyce’s first marriage.” He rubbed his eyes. “I dated, of course, but I never really felt anything for the men I was seeing. There was always an initial attraction that seemed to wane the better I got to know them. I was never into casual sex—I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it, of course, it’s just not for me.”

  “Of course,” I replied.

  “And I was always on my guard whenever someone showed interest in me. I know I’m not unattractive, but—” He sighed. “When you have money and social position, you never can be sure whether people are actually interested in you for yourself or for what you can do for them. Obviously, actors and dancers were always throwing themselves at me, hoping I’d use my influence to get them parts in shows I was financing—which I of course would never do.” He stood up and began pacing. “By the time I was in my thirties I had pretty much come to the conclusion I was destined to be alone for the rest of my life, that I would never find the kind of relationship I wanted, and I was fine with it, Mouse, really, I was. I wasn’t looking to get involved with anyone.” He walked over to the big window and put his hands on the sill, his back to me.

  “How awful for you,” I said, and I meant it. My heart went out to him. When I worked for Valerie, I’d learned very early on that many people thought that the best way to get to Valerie was through flattering me. As her assistant, I had access to her schedule and could slip someone in. They were stupid if they thought she ever listened to anything I had to say—Valerie always made up her own mind and never really listened to anyone else—but I never fooled myself that any of the minor celebrities who flattered me and sent me gifts and acted friendly actually cared anything about me. I was simply a means to an end.

  Awful as that was, that was business. I couldn’t imagine how much more awful it would feel never to be certain of anyone in your personal life.

  “I, of course, knew who Timothy Burke was—who didn’t in those days? His images were e
verywhere. He was one of the first male supermodels.” He turned and walked over to the sideboard, clunking a few pieces of ice into a glass before pouring whiskey over them. “I knew he was beautiful—who didn’t? But I’d never met him, never dreamed…” He took a drink from the whiskey and closed his eyes for a moment. “I’ll never forget the night I met him. It was here, at the Independence Ball.” He leaned against the sideboard, remembering. “He came with Dorothy Masters—she and her husband had an interest in the company he was modeling for.” His face twisted and he looked off into the distance. “He had the most amazing costume; he came as Apollo, Greek god of the sun and music. His entire body had been painted gold, and he had golden rays coming out from his head. He was wearing skimpy shorts painted the exact same shade of gold and covered in glitter. He had somehow mixed glitter into the body paint so his entire body sparkled in the light. Even his hair had been painted the same shade of gold. His body was just extraordinary…I had never seen anyone like him before—oh, don’t get me wrong, I’d dated and slept with plenty of men, plenty of beautiful men, but Timothy was different. He looked like Apollo come to life…my first look at him and my breath was taken away. I was spellbound, unable to take my eyes off him. And he was aware of his effect on me…he flirted with me…and I had to have him.”

  He polished off the glass of whiskey and poured himself another. “Looking back now, I can’t believe I was such a fool. I wasn’t thinking—all I could think about was Timothy. I couldn’t stop thinking about him after that night at the ball. I pursued him…was obsessed with him. I asked him out on dates, and he kept me at arm’s length, aloof and never giving me anything other than a chaste kiss on the cheek after the date was over. I was stupid enough to actually believe him when he said he wasn’t the kind of man who slept with everyone he met—I actually admired him for his integrity. He always talked about his religious upbringing in Florida, and how even though he’d abandoned his faith when he came out, he hadn’t abandoned his morality. He told me that he believed that casual sex was wrong, he would never do that unless he actually loved someone…was in a relationship. I bought him things—expensive gifts he would only accept if I understood his acceptance didn’t mean I was buying his love.” His voice turned bitter. “He was playing me. He was playing for keeps. The more he pushed me away, the more he denied me, the more I wanted him. I was such a damned fool. And as soon as Massachusetts legalized gay marriage, I asked him to marry me.”