by Jeff Erno
“It’s happened, Oliver. It’s already happened.”
“No! Benjy, that is not true. I love you, and for God’s sake, I don’t consider anything about you to be ‘baggage.’” Again, he reached out, urging Benjy to take his hand.
Instead, Benjy picked up his phone from the end table. “Right before you rang the buzzer, I was on my phone, on Facebook.” He tapped some buttons on his phone, pulling up the app. “Oliver, you apparently weren’t too devastated by our disagreement yesterday.” He held out his phone, handing it to Oliver.
He looked down at the image of Ethan and him, standing cheek to cheek. It had been posted to Oliver’s wall and apparently had appeared in Benjy’s newsfeed. Oliver had been tagged along with the date, time stamp, and location. His mouth dropped open when he read the caption. “My prospective love interest and soon-to-be boyfriend, Oliver Paxton.”
“What the fuck!”
“I’m not mad.” Benjy spoke in a calm, even voice, which sent a chill down Oliver’s spine. “I understand. Look at you two, what an adorable”—his voice cracked as he spoke the final word—“couple.”
“No, Benjy! It’s not like that. I have no interest in this guy whatsoever. You’ve got to believe me.”
Benjy sighed, tears now streaming down both cheeks. “Then you’re a fool. He’s obviously interested in you.”
“Ethan had no business posting this picture on my timeline. And this caption, it’s pure bullshit. He knows about you. I told him—more than once—I’m in a fucking relationship.”
Benjy rose from his chair and held out his hand to take back his phone. “Oliver, it’s over. It shouldn’t have continued as long as it did. I don’t want us to part ways angry at each other. I care about you, and I want you to be happy.”
“Then don’t do this!” Oliver’s voice rose three octaves as the hot tears flooded his eyes. “Please!”
Benjy stepped closer and reached out to brush his fingertips against Oliver’s hair. He leaned forward and kissed Oliver’s forehead, then removed the phone from his hand and stepped back. “I’ll always be grateful for everything you did for me. You saved my ass that day right after I’d started at work. You befriended me when I was friendless. You’ve been so patient, so understanding. And I love your mom and dad.”
“I don’t accept this!” Oliver rose from his seat and grabbed Benjy by the shoulders. “I haven’t stopped loving you. Benjy, you can’t do this. You can’t decide something like this for both of us. You’re not fucking baggage!”
Benjy reached up to place his palm gently against Oliver’s cheek. “I love you too, Oliver, which is why I’m letting you go.” He pulled away and walked across the room briskly, toward the hallway. “Let yourself out. I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”
“Benjy!”
Benjy turned one last time before entering the bedroom. “Call Ethan. He’s waiting.” He walked over the threshold of the bedroom and closed the door behind him.
Oliver crumpled to his knees, devastated.
Chapter Fifteen
OLIVER DIDN’T call Ethan, not right away. He remained on his knees in Benjy’s living room, crushed to the core, and cried for ten minutes. He debated marching down the hallway and camping out at Benjy’s bedroom door. He wanted to beat the door down, beg and plead for another chance.
It didn’t matter. Nothing he could do now would change what had happened. Benjy wasn’t going to relent. Oliver already knew how stubborn he was. It felt as if his shoes were filled with lead as he plodded back down the staircase and out to his car. When he got there and opened the door, the first thing he saw was Benjy’s book. He’d forgotten to take it with him, but he wasn’t about to go back and wait for Benjy to answer the buzzer.
He drove home, barely able to see the road ahead of him. None of this seemed real. It had to be a dream—a horrible nightmare. Maybe somehow he’d find a way to win Benjy back. Maybe Benjy would think about it and reconsider. Clinging to this thin shred of hope was the only thing that mitigated the dull ache in his chest that otherwise would surely have crippled him.
As he drove past Burger King, Wendy’s, Arby’s, and McDonald’s, he mustered every bit of willpower to avoid pulling in and commencing with a feeding frenzy. Oh, the comfort such delicious food would have provided, had he succumbed to the temptation. His mouth watered as he savored the imaginary taste of greasy fries, loaded burgers, and thick, creamy milk shakes.
What if he went home and waited a couple hours? Maybe he could write Benjy a letter, send it via email, explaining in detail what had transpired between Ethan and him. He hadn’t even asked the dude to take his picture. He’d just done it. And Oliver had certainly given him no indication whatsoever that he was interested in anything with him beyond friendship.
When he got home, he looked around his house. As usual, he needed to clean. He had laundry to do, a dishwasher to load. He should scrub his bathroom and vacuum his floors. Beyond that, he hadn’t even made his fucking bed. He never made the bed. What was the point? He was just going to mess it up again a few hours later. Why did he have so much energy and drive to work out, but couldn’t force himself to clean? Why was he able to play video games for hours on end but couldn’t take five minutes to make his bed?
Why were people so strange, so quirky? Benjy, so affable, to know him was to love him, yet he constantly feared the world hated him. The opportunity to be happy lay right there, right in his path. He need only claim it, but he wouldn’t. He spent all his energy fretting about everything, constantly worrying someone might do or say something to him that would crush him. In the process, he behaved as if he’d already been crushed.
Well, he had. Oliver couldn’t imagine the devastation Benjy must have experienced when his parents disowned him and kicked him out. He’d already faced hardship, a victim of abuse and repeated bullying at school. And in every way, he’d risen above the tragedy. He’d succeeded by finishing high school, acquiring a degree and a decent job. Why couldn’t he allow himself to enjoy the life he’d created for himself?
Oliver tried cleaning the kitchen, thinking that in some weird way it would be appropriate. Benjy would approve of his effort. But every time he bent over to place another dish in the dishwasher, he thought of Benjy, how spotless his apartment always was. Every time he tossed an item in the trash, wiped the counter, or cleaned the stovetop, he envisioned Benjy flitting around the kitchen, so comfortable within his element.
He didn’t get far in his cleaning efforts. After a half-assed attempt in the kitchen, he slogged back into the living room and collapsed on the sofa. He should fix himself a salad or warm up some soup. He wasn’t hungry, though. A few minutes ago, he’d fantasized about consuming the entire menu at McDonald’s, but now he didn’t think he could even force himself to eat.
He grabbed his laptop off the stand beside him and opened his email. He began typing a letter to Benjy, but after two sentences, he stopped. What more could he say than what he’d already said? What creative words could he craft in order to show Benjy this had all been a misunderstanding? How could he convince him, win him back?
He shook his head and slid the laptop onto the sofa cushion beside him. He loved Benjy, but he couldn’t force him to do something he didn’t want to do. He couldn’t magically change Benjy’s mind, no matter what arguments he used. Benjy had decided it was over. He’d dumped Oliver without so much as giving him a chance to defend himself. Benjy was the uncooperative, uncompromising, unforgiving one.
Oliver could go on blaming himself for accusing Benjy of acting crazy, but what purpose would that serve? It wouldn’t change anything. He’d already apologized, explained it was a poor choice of words. He’d already taken back what he said. Hadn’t he?
No, an email wouldn’t change anything. Getting on his hands and knees and begging wouldn’t. Nothing would change the situation. He picked up his phone, debating whether or not to call Amanda. His mom, maybe? He certainly didn’t want to talk to Ethan. In fact, he just might punch him in the
face the next time he saw him.
He sat on the couch by himself—no food, no TV, no computer. He just sat there as if paralyzed, completely numb, and listened to the silence. He wasn’t sure when he dozed off, but he awakened after dark, curled up on the sofa with his laptop on the floor beside him. He got up and stumbled to the bathroom, then grabbed a yogurt and bottled water from the refrigerator. He stood in the kitchen, staring at the digital clock on the stove. He couldn’t believe he’d slept all those hours, the entire day. It was now after eleven. He’d really fucked up his sleep pattern. How would he ever get back to sleep? He had to work in the morning, after all.
But after he finished his snack, he stumbled to the bedroom and collapsed on the bed. He had no problem falling back asleep, and he awoke seven hours later to the sound of his alarm.
OLIVER FACED Monday morning the same way he did any other Monday. He suppressed his anger and sadness, deciding not to think about the situation. He’d go about his routine as if everything were normal. He arrived at the gym a little after seven and pounded out a brutal, upper-body workout. As he finished up with a set of leverage chest presses, he felt the burn not only in his pectorals, but also in his triceps and shoulders. He released the air from his lungs, then took another deep breath at the exact moment Devon appeared beside him.
“Nice!” He placed his hand against Oliver’s shoulder. With his other hand, he reached around and patted Oliver’s chest. “You’re pumped, man.”
Oliver looked up into Devon’s face, unsure if he should be annoyed or flattered. Devon smiled, staring into his eyes. With their faces inches apart, Oliver immediately noticed the spicy scent of Devon’s sandalwood cologne. He certainly didn’t smell of man sweat like Oliver probably did himself. “You haven’t worked out yet?”
Devon removed his hand from Oliver’s chest, but lingered close, running the fingers of his other hand along Oliver’s shoulders. “Just starting.”
“That’s what I thought.” Oliver smiled. For the first time in several days, he felt a warmth within his chest, and not from the burn of his workout. Benjy had always ignited a warm, glowing feeling of contentment within him, especially when they were alone, intimate with each other. Why was he feeling this sensation with Devon? Maybe it resulted from his gentle touch, the cadence of his smooth voice, or even from that intoxicating, sexy smell of his cologne.
“I can’t believe Ethan posted that pic of you two yesterday.”
Surprised, Oliver widened his gaze. “How’d you know?”
“I saw it. I’m his friend on Facebook, and I saw what he posted. I sent you a friend invite, but you haven’t accepted.”
“Oh, sorry. I haven’t been back on Facebook, not since my boyfriend—my ex-boyfriend—found the picture.”
“What? No way. You’re not saying he dumped you or something? Not because of that?”
Oliver heaved a sigh. “Sort of. Well, not only that, but that didn’t help.”
“Man, I’m sorry to hear that. But you know what? You’re probably better off without a guy like that. He sounds like he was very controlling.”
Was he? Was Benjy just being overly possessive? No, Oliver knew better than that. This wasn’t about jealousy. Benjy’s decision to end their relationship hadn’t been rooted in selfishness. Insecurity, maybe, but nothing to do with his ego. In a weird sort of way, it might have been easier to accept had it been pure jealousy. “I haven’t seen or talked to Ethan.”
Devon leaned against the machine, tilting his head slightly as he spoke. “He never should have posted that comment with the picture, suggesting you two are a couple.”
“No shit.”
“That was very presumptive of him.”
“Or flattering, depending how you look at it.” Oliver turned to see Ethan on the other side of him. “I didn’t mean to assume anything. I guess it was just wishful thinking.”
“Ethan….” Oliver stared at him, unsure what to say. He should be angry. He should stand up and knock the guy’s block off. “How did you expect me to explain that comment to Benjy?”
Ethan moved closer, unconcerned by Devon’s presence, and placed his hand on Oliver’s other shoulder. “I overheard what you just said, that your boyfriend broke up with you. That’s pretty sad, man. But if he loved you, he wouldn’t freak out over an innocent picture.”
No, he freaked out because Oliver had been an asshole, had called him crazy. “I think he just wants me to be happy.”
“Exactly!” Devon and Ethan said in unison. They glared at each other, then Ethan continued. “And you didn’t seem too happy Saturday night. Dude, you’re torturing yourself over this guy.”
Oliver pushed himself up from his seat on the machine, stepping away from both of them. “Well, I gotta go get showered. I have work today.”
“Come down to the café tonight,” Devon suggested. “We’ll hang together.”
“I’ll be there,” Ethan added.
“I’ll think about it.” Without another word, he walked away, heading toward the staircase leading to the locker room. As he showered and got changed for work, he thought about what had just transpired. Had two hot guys just simultaneously hit on him? Were they…? No, no that was insane. Of course they weren’t vying for his attention. Of course they couldn’t be competing against each other for him. Could they?
He smiled as he buttoned his dress shirt.
WHEN HE arrived at the office, Oliver looked over his cubicle wall to find Benjy’s workstation empty. He looked at his phone, checking the time. Benjy was never late. He’d normally be at work already. Oliver hadn’t seen him in the breakroom or bathroom either.
A knot formed in his chest, and the dull ache he’d felt the day before, after Benjy dumped him, returned in full force. Then he looked closer at Benjy’s workstation, and the sinking, hollow feeling inside him seemed to expand. All of Benjy’s personal items had been removed from the cubicle. His mini calendar no longer hung on the cubicle wall. There was no cup holder, and his Star Wars mousepad had been replaced by one with a blue company logo. Someone had cleaned out the cubicle. Benjy had moved to a new work location, or he’d….
He caught the attention of a supervisor as she walked by. “Laura, what happened to Benjy?”
“Benjamin Erickson? He transferred. He’s still working with IT, but no longer in software programming. He’s now in claims. Upstairs.”
“Really? That was sudden.”
“The posting for the position’s been up for the past three weeks in the breakroom. Benjamin’s the only one who applied for it. He came in early this morning and requested that the transfer happen as soon as possible.”
Oliver sank into his seat, stunned.
Laura gave him a puzzled look. “He’s just upstairs. It’s not like he’s moved to the other side of the country.”
He turned away from her and stared at his computer monitor. “He might as well have,” he muttered under his breath. “He might as well have moved to Siberia.”
Chapter Sixteen
WHEN OLIVER walked through the rear entrance of the Rainbow Café, he immediately heard someone call his name. He looked across the room and saw Devon waving. Oliver smiled, waving back, then stopped at the counter to purchase a bottled water. As he made his way to the table where Devon was sitting, he hesitated, noticing Devon was not alone.
“Oliver!” Devon motioned for him to have a seat. “How cool you showed up.”
Oliver pulled out the chair and sat down, waiting for an introduction.
“I’m Ryan.” The young man sitting on the other side of Devon spoke. He seemed young, maybe even still a teenager, but he was cute, nonetheless. With his backward baseball cap, his clean-shaven face seemed boyish, maybe a little too perfect.
“I was just telling Ryan about you,” Devon added. “But I wasn’t sure you would show up.”
“Am I interrupting?”
“No, no! Not at all. Ryan goes to our gym too. Seems like most of the gay members know each other.
”
“Really?” Oliver had never seen the kid, and even if he had, he wouldn’t have suspected him to be gay. His all-American look sort of defied the gay stereotype.
“Not a morning person,” Ryan explained. “You’ll never see me there before midafternoon. In fact, I’m on my way there now.”
“That explains it—why I’ve never seen you, I mean. I only go in the mornings.”
“Well, if you ever decide to change things up, I wouldn’t mind spotting for a guy like you.” Ryan winked as Devon reached across the table to slap his arm.
“You’re fucking shameless!”
“You’re one to talk.” Ryan grinned, flashing a perfect row of pearly whites. He pushed himself up from the chair he’d been straddling. “Anyway, I better get going. You two have fun, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t.”
“That pretty much leaves us with a world of possibilities.” Devon winked.
Ryan laughed, then nodded to Oliver before he took off.
“Was that guy flirting with me?” Oliver felt his cheeks flush with warmth. He looked at Devon, embarrassed.
“Of course he was.” Devon laughed. “You better get used to it.”
Oliver had never experienced flirting like that, and now it had seemingly happened three times in the same day. Maybe it was just a thing with the gym bunnies, something they did to be funny. So far he hadn’t observed any of them getting fresh with one another, though. Instead, they seemed to just be hitting on him.
“I doubt I’ll ever get used to it. You saw what I looked like a few months ago, back when I first started working out. Before that, I was even heavier. I’d already lost over sixty pounds at that point.”
“Wow. You should be proud.”
“Thanks. But my point is, nobody—not one person my entire life—ever said I was attractive.”
Devon looked at him sympathetically. Pityingly.
“Well, that’s not exactly true. One person did. Only one.”
