Page 111 of Something Like Forever
“Are youkidding?” Nathaniel breathed in and exhaled again, expressionoverwhelmed. “I literally have nothing of his. Mom didn’t keepanything besides some photos, so an old lighter and a carving hemade? Give me a choice between those things and a chest full ofgold, and I wouldn’t think twice. This is more valuable to me.Thank you.”
“You’rewelcome!” Ben said. “It’s a shame you didn’t have a chance to talkto Michelle when she was still here. She’s going to flip when shefinds out! Maybe she’ll have some memories to share. I wish I had afew so I could do more for you.”
“You’vedone enough,” Nathaniel said, still clutching his treasures as heturned toward the stairs. “This is more than I ever expected. Ican’t think of anything that would mean more to me. Not unless youknow where he’s buried.”
He said it like a joke,but Ben stopped in his tracks. “Victor doesn’t have a grave. Notexactly.”
Nathaniel turned around,wearing guarded hope. “If that’s a joke, I’m not angry, butpleasepleasedon’t mess with me on this.”
“I’mnot,” Ben said. “Victor was cremated. Jace scattered hisashes.”
“Did hesay where?”
“Yes.”His throat ached, but he forced the words out anyway. “The sameplace where I left Jace. I’ve never told anyone where. Not evenMichelle.”
Nathaniel swallowed. “Soyou can’t tell me.”
“No,”Ben said, weighing the pain in his heart and realizing that, on theother side of the scale, sat Nathaniel’s own. He couldn’t say whatVictor would have wanted, but it wasn’t hard to guess what Jacewould have done. The same thing he always did: whatever was mostgenerous and kind. “I can’t tell you, but I can showyou.”
ChapterSeventeen
Tim pushed aside the hotelcurtain, all of Tokyo spread out before him. That wasn’t right. Thethought was poetic, and even though the buildings and streetsstretched on as far as the eye could see, the view revealed just afraction of the massive city. He struggled to comprehend how somany lives could be out there—over thirteen million—all occurringalongside each other, each with their own dramas, failures, andvictories. He turned as Ben stirred. His husband was still in bed,scanning him with weary eyes before they shut again.
“Going?” Ben mumbled.Perhaps realizing this wasn’t a complete sentence, he tacked on,“Jogging?”
“Yeah.”Tim stooped to kiss him on the forehead. “Get up and take a showerso we can have breakfast together. Wake up the boystoo.”
“Nnnkay,” Bensaid.
Had he agreed? Or was thatsupposed to be a ‘not okay’? Tim supposed he would find out when hereturned. He just hoped this outing wasn’t as brief as theprevious. He rode the elevator down, feeling apprehensive. Usuallyhe looked forward to his runs like a junkie about to get a fix.That had changed yesterday, when after five minutes of jogging, hewas forced to stop and gulp in oxygen. He wasn’t sure why. His bestguess was the sea level, since he knew high altitudes meant thinnerair. Except when he had looked up the sea level, he discovered thatTokyo was a good three hundred feetlowerthan Austin. So that couldn’tbe the cause.
Today he was determined tooffset the previous day’s failure with a longer run. Last night heavoided alcohol and even sex, wanting to be as fully charged aspossible. He felt good. As he walked toward the park, he paid closeattention to his body. No aches or pains. He might be turning fortynext year, but he still felt like he was eighteen.
Tim took a long route tothe park. Twenty minutes of warmup was too much, but he needed theodds in his favor. After stretching next to a park bench, he slowlybegan his jog. The first few minutes were fine. As were the onesafter that, so he allowed himself to pick up the pace. No problem!He was on the verge of grinning triumphantly when his lungs felttight again. Just like yesterday. He pressed on, wondering if heneeded to break through a wall. But why? He wasn’t an amateur juststarting out. Tim had been running since he was a teenager! Therehad to be another explanation. Pollution? Maybe. Living outside ofAustin had spoiled him in that regard. And yet, he had no troublerunning during his initial visit a few years back. Tokyo hadn’tchanged that much. Was it the time of day? Tim had always been anight jogger, and itwasnighttime back in Austin, so his internal clockshouldn’t be upset with him.
He forced himself to presson, despite his need to gasp for breath. He could do this! When thetightness in his lungs became a sharp pain, he slowed long enoughto cough. It could be a cold or some other bug. And yet his nosewasn’t running and he felt fine when not exercising. Nothing addedup. Glaring at the world in general, he stopped and allowed himselfto catch his breath. Then he kept going, starting slow again andbuilding up to a moderate speed. The shortness of breath camequicker this time, as did the pain. He wouldn’t let it stop him.Maybe he hadn’t been taking good enough care of himself, or workingout as often as he should, or—
Tim stumbled off the path,a coughing fit forcing him to hunch over, his hands on his knees ashe struggled to breathe. He spit, trying to clear his airways, notonce but twice and a third time. Then he stared. The saliva on thegrass was tinged with red. Blood? Was he spitting up blood? He spitagain, more carefully this time. Red. He even moved back to thepavement, wanting to see his spit on the neutral gray. Lord onlyknew what the locals thought! He was a Westerner, huffing andspitting and making a scene like some sort of savage. The spit cameout of his mouth in a long string of dark mucus. Then it pooled onthe slab of concrete, undeniably red.
Okay, no more running!Panic mixed with the adrenaline he was already feeling. Tim soughtout the nearest bench, walking at a controlled pace and sitting.Then he waited for the pain to subside and for his lungs to startfunctioning normally. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, justthat it took more time than it should. He had spit blood onprevious jogs. Especially when younger and pushing himself toohard. But this hadn’t been a long run! He hadn’t sprinted at topspeed. Not even close! He should be fine. He wasn’t though. By thetime he finally rose, he had decided to seek help.
* * * * *
Tim returned to the hotel,walking slowly. He went upstairs and discovered the room empty.That meant Ben was probably downstairs eating. Grabbing his phone,he sent a text to Corey.
Can you meet us as soon aspossible?
We just walked into thelobby, came the reply.Should I come up?
No, Tim wrote back.Grab somebreakfast or something to drink. I’ll be down soon.
He took a shower,developing a plan as he stood under the hot spray. Then he threw ona comfortable T-shirt and jeans and went downstairs to thebreakfast buffet. He spotted a table of five people, conversationbecoming more animated as coffees were sipped and sugar enteredbloodstreams. Ben, Jason, William, Corey, and Kioshi. His concernsreceded as he filled a plate for himself and sat among people hecared for, but his worries didn’t disappear completely. As the mealwound down, he still felt the need to face his fears.
“What’s on the agenda fortoday?” Ben asked.
“I’dlike to visit the Meiji Shrine,” William said.
Jason looked confused. “Ithought we were going to that yoyo park?”
