Page 78 of Something Like Summer
“His name was Eric. He wasa friend of mine. He died late last year.”
“I’m sorry,” Ben said.“Still,” he added after a moment, “it’s a bit unusual. Inheritingmoney from a friend, I mean.”
“Is it?”
“Yeah. I mean, unless hewas your sugar daddy or something.” Ben gave an artificial laughthat didn’t convince either of them.
“I guess Allison hasfilled you in on the rumors, then?” Tim’s jaw clenched. “I guessthere’s no point in telling you what you already know. Eric wasrich, old, and gay. What else could it have been,right?”
“I don’t know,” Benreplied weakly, surprised at the sudden anger in Tim’svoice.
“Well, it’s all bullshit.People think the whole world revolves around sex and money, butthey’re wrong. Eric was a good person and one of the best friends Iever had. All he ever wanted was friendship.”
Ben didn’t know what tosay, but he was afraid he fit into the category of thesmall-minded. Some rich old guy wanted Tim around for company andnothing more? Had Eric been blind? Add money to the equation andthe whole thing stank.
“I didn’t mean topry.”
“Yeah, you did, but it’sokay.” Tim’s posture relaxed a little. “I just get tired of whatpeople say. They don’t know me. They take a couple of facts andwarp them into something they can feel superior about.”
“Yeah, that does suck. Sowhat’s the truth, then?”
“He was like a father tome. Like the way I always wish things had been with my real dad. Heknew everything about anything, was funny, and had the craziestideas. Talking to him was the greatest. That’s all we’d ever do. Hewas already pretty sick when I met him, so he couldn’t get outmore. We’d just sit there and talk for hours. Hell, I practicallybecame his nurse. It was the best time of my life. Well,second-best.”
Ben knew he shouldn’t ask,but he wanted to be sure. “So there was never sexinvolved?”
“No! Christ! Can’t gaypeople just be friends?”
“Sorry,” Ben apologized.“It’s just the money thing--”
“Yeah, well, what else washe supposed to do with it? He didn’t have any kids. Just a sister.She got most of the money. I got a small part, which really wasstill a tremendous amount. And the house, too. She didn’t want it,anyway.”
Ben exhaled, trying toimagine what he would do if he were suddenly wealthy. Tim seemedlost in thought the rest of the drive home. Ben too had much tothink about. Neglecting Samson and then hearing about Tim’s strangerelationship with Eric had taken some of the fairytale shine offtheir day. He found himself missing Jace and the simple life theyshared. If only he were coming home tonight.
The afternoon’s surrealismonly increased when he walked into Jace’s apartment with Tim. Hisex-boyfriend silently took in the apartment, examining the wallsand making his own judgments. Was he sizing up Jace and mentallyknocking him down? Did he feel intimidated or insecure? Did heever?
“Should I make ussomething to eat?” Ben asked after tending to Samson.
“No, let’s go out. It’llbe fun.”
“Yeah, all right,” Benagreed, eager to get Tim away from the apartment.
“Tell you what,” Tim saidonce they were back in his car. “Why don’t we avoid the crowds?We’ll go back to my place and I’ll cook for you.”
“Eh, I don’t know.” Bensaw the ruse to get him somewhere private.
“It’ll be cool,” Tim said,switching lanes. “You’ll like it there.”
“Said the spider to thefly,” Ben muttered.
* * * * *
Tim lived out in West LakeHills. The area was notoriously expensive or “rich bitch” as Ben’smother would say. Tim’s house was modern with rustic elements. Themain part of the home was a jumble of minimalistic cubes, but thecovered entrance was hewn from rough-cut wood and supported bytwisted iron columns. The window shutters were warped with age andreinforced with crisscrossing wire, as if the architect had createdthem with recycled chicken coops. Even more out of place was theseparate garage, as unremarkably middle class as possible. Maybethat was the architect’s intention. One touch of normality to putthe rest of the building’s eccentricities into context. The resultfelt like a tornado had swept up a cabin, a suburban home, and amuseum of modern art and dropped them jumbled together.
Tim parked his car in thedriveway and led the way to the door. The interior of the housecouldn’t have been more different than the cold exterior. Thickcolorful carpets were patterned across polished wooden floors.Oversized couches and chairs in warm, earthy colors filled therooms they walked through. In the living room, practicalbookshelves built low into the wall doubled as benches and were setin front of tall windows on either side of the fireplace. Themassive kitchen, their final destination, had all the trappings ofa professional restaurant, including two ranges and an indoorgrill. Ben sat at one of the bar stools at the kitchen’s island andstared.
“I gotta hit the john,”Tim said, slipping off his sneakers. “There’s anything you couldever want to drink in here. Feel free to poke around.”
“Thanks,” Bensaid.
