Page 115 of Something Like Forever
Tim shrugged. “He’s cute,but he’s more like a little brother to me.”
“Are yousure?” Ben leaned against the desk. “You’re allowed to fantasizeabout anyone you want. There’s nothing wrong with that. Maybe Icould help. Should I dye my hair black?”
“No,” Tim said with achuckle. “I’m perfectly happy with the guy I married.”
“Thatdoesn’t mean we can’t roleplay.” Ben walked over to the bed andthrew himself onto his back. Propping himself up on his elbows, heput on a seductive expression worthy of the stage. Then he said,“You can kiss me if you want.”
Tim laughed. Then he rose,because he did want to kiss Ben. More than anything. He didn’t knowwhat the future held. Right now it was terrifying as hell, but italso made him appreciate the present and all the good things in it.None were more precious to him than the man stretched out in bed,whose lips were puckered and making exaggerated kissing noises. Timrose and turned his back to the laptop and questions that couldn’tbe answered yet. Then he leapt onto the bed, tickling ribs andgrinning at the resulting giggles, not stopping even when Benbegged for mercy.
* * * * *
“Thanks for the ride,” Timsaid, reaching for the door. “I’ll text when I need to be picked upagain.”
“Amoment, if you please,” Marcello said, looking from him to thebuilding they had stopped in front of. “What precisely are we doinghere?”
Tim was back in Texas. Thehoneymoon had gone great, despite the scare. He hadn’t ceasedworrying during the remainder of the trip, but the heightenedawareness of just how much he loved his family helped make the goodtimes that much better. As soon as he was back in Texas, he hadgone through a series of medical appointments and tests. The firsthad been a consultation, his doctor also concerned by what theX-ray revealed. Then he was sent for a CAT scan, whichrequiredanotherappointment with an oncologist, who was paid way too much totell him the obvious. He needed to have the tumor checked to findout if it was malignant or not. That brought him to today, where hewould be sedated and have a camera shoved down his throat. Kind of.He kept imagining the huge kind of camera used to film televisionshows, equipped with a robot arm and a little pair of scissors totake a tissue sample. This cartoonish vision helped take the edgeoff his fear, but not by much. Even the idea of a small tube beinginserted into his lungs was disturbing.
“Just some routine tests,”Tim said, answering the question at last.
“Allowme to make an observation,” Marcello replied. “That you didn’tdrive yourself here indicates that these tests are not routine, orat the very least, are more invasive than usual. It also strikes methat you could have hired a taxi instead.” He put the car in gearand pulled forward.
“What are you doing?” Timdemanded.
“Findinga place to park. Then I shall accompany you. That’s what you want,isn’t it?”
Tim opened his mouth toprotest, but as usual, Marcello was right. He needed emotionalsupport. Ben should be here, but Tim was still determined not toworry him without reason. “It’ll take hours,” he warned.
“Ialways have time for you,” Marcello replied. After he pulled thecar into a spot and shut it off, he looked over at him. “Now then,what are we facing?”
“Abronchoscopy.”
Marcello was silent. Thenhe nodded. “Let’s not keep the hospital staff waiting.”
Tim felt a surge ofaffection for the man, and as they walked across the parking lottogether, a little less afraid. Twenty minutes later, he wasn’tfeeling so grateful. “Would you stop?” he snarled. “Put the phonedown!”
“I do solove a hospital gown,” Marcello said, trying to get behind him totake a photo. “They can be more revealing than a slumber party gameof Truth or Dare.”
“You’rethe worst!” Tim said, clutching the gown shut and backing upagainst a wall.
“Will anesthetic beinvolved today?”
“Yes!”
Marcello lowered thecamera. “In that case, I shall bide my time. What you don’t knowcan’t hurt you.”
Tim breathed out andhopped up on the gurney that would wheel him to the procedure. “Ifthat was true, I wouldn’t be here.”
“Yes.” Marcello grewsomber. “You’re quite right. My apologies. When can we expect theresults?”
“I havean appointment the day after tomorrow.”
“With?”
Tim swallowed. “Theoncologist. I hate waiting.”
“As doI,” Marcello said, patting his hand and leaving itthere.
The nurse walked in then.She had clearly seen stranger sights than an older man with hishand on that of a younger man because she barely blinked. Insteadshe inserted an IV into Tim’s arm and had him gargle with liquidsto numb his mouth and throat. This concerned him because he didn’twant to be awake to feel anything at all.
