Page 9 of Something Like Forever
“I like how he left thebottle in there,” Tim said, holding up the champagne, “even thoughthe cork is gone and it’s empty.”
“Hecould fit four of this house into his own,” Ben said, shaking hishead. “Why would he need to come here when he alreadyhaseverything?”
“Probably likes goingthrough our underwear drawers,” Tim murmured. “Hey, there’s anidea! We’ll put champagne bottles in our underwear drawers and seehow long they last.”
“I’d rather not know,” Bensaid, filling the electric kettle to make tea.
Tim was still pokingaround in the refrigerator, looking unsatisfied. “We need freshstuff. I want to start juicing more. As in smoothies. We don’t getenough fruit.”
“Too easy,” Bensaid.
“Wanna hit thestore?”
“I was planning onunpacking and doing some laundry.”
“I’ll run then,” Tim said,shutting the fridge.
“Okay.” Ben made sure tokeep his tone neutral, even though he really liked the idea,because there was something he wanted to do. A thought had beennagging him for the last two weeks, but he needed to be alone forit. Probably. Tim was cool about everything these days, but Benwould feel a lot less silly without an audience.
He started the first loadof laundry, straining to hear over the sound of the washer filling.When the front door closed and the buzz of an engine faded away, hewent to peek out the entryway windows. No sign of Tim. Ben almostwished that the car would return, because now he felt nervous. Thenagain, how bad could this possibly go? Unless objects startedfloating around the room and smashing into things, but even thatwould be welcome, because at least he would be here.
Ben went upstairs to theoffice. Tim rarely used it, preferring to work in his studio, whichwas now a converted shed elsewhere on the property. That meant theoffice was mostly Ben’s. That’s not why the framed photo was keptthere. He wasn’t hiding it away, although he did move it out of thebedroom because it was awkward to be in the heat of the moment andlook over to see that face again. Too awkward, and at times, tootempting, but no fantasy could ever count as cheating. Not when itinvolved him.
Ben sat in the officechair and faced a framed photo on the desk. It showed a flightattendant looking debonair in his uniform. The man’s eyes shonewith pride, love, and everything else good that he hadembodied.
“Hello, Jace.” Ben chokedback tears and shook his head. “Sorry, I know you don’t like itwhen I cry. At least, I know you wouldn’t have liked it. Ugh. Thisis stupid.”
He looked away, but onlyfor a second. Then his attention returned to the photo and a fewsmall knickknacks he kept next to it. Reminders. One was thenametag Jace had worn while working, which by coincidence, sharedthe same name as his son. Jason. Later the airline had changedtheir policy and allowed Jace to use the name everyone called him,but Ben kept this one for sentimental reasons. Jace had beenwearing it when they met. Ben caressed the nametag with the tip ofa finger, looking next to the ceramic fortune cookie that Jace hadnever seen with living eyes, but that Ben had bought because italways made his heart fill with affection. Now was nodifferent.
“Sorry,”Ben said, addressing the photo again. “You know I don’t usually dothis. I just really need to tell you something, and I’m not surewhere else to go. I thought about flying out to Warrensburg but—”Ben shook his head to clear it. “I got married. Tim and I,obviously. I know you didn’t want me to be alone. You also wantedme to be happy, and I really am.” Ben wiped tears from his eyes. “Ican imagine how this looks, but I mean it. I’m doing really well,even though I wish you were still here. No idea how that wouldwork, but you always said that emotions didn’t have to make sense.I just want you to know that we’re still married.” Ben held up hisleft hand where he had been wearing the same ring for ten years.“Tim’s okay with that. He gets it. It makes me a bigamist, but Idon’t care. I love you. I willalwaysbe your husband. No matterwhat.”
Try as he might, hecouldn’t help sobbing a few times. Then he got himself undercontrol. Ben forced himself to think of the happy memories they hadmade together. Feeling better, he grabbed the framed photo, kissedit, and set it down again. Then he rose, walked to the door, andlooked back with his hand on the light switch. “I love you, Jace.If you’re out there, I hope you can feel that.”
He waited for ananswer—just in case—and when it didn’t come, he turned off thelight and went back downstairs to continue his life. And thelaundry.
* * * * *
Ben went to answer thedoor, hearing muffled thumps and a few choice cuss words. When heopened the door, Allison stood there looking disheveled. A leashwas twisted around her ankles and a squirming baby wiggled from onearm. Or a toddler, technically speaking, because Davis wasofficially mobile. Currently he was reaching for the dog atAllison’s feet, his hands opening and closing as he burbledsomething. He could speak, although Ben always wished the kid camewith subtitles because he never understood a word.
“Is he saying gimmie?” Benasked, “or live meat?”
“He’s saying he wants youto grab him before I fall over!”
“Oh sorry.” Ben tookDavis, who looked extremely offended by this and quickly workedhimself up into tears. “Uh…”
“He’s fine,” Allison said,twisting around until she was free of the leash. Then she brushedpast him. “Air conditioning!” she moaned. “Ours broke downyesterday.”
“Wow, that sucks,” he saidover the sound of wailing. “Can we switch?”
She handed him the leashand took Davis, walking with her son deeper into the house. Benshut the door, then squatted to set Chinchilla loose. The dogwagged her stubby tail, noticed Davis watching her, and fled. Benhad never seen her move so fast as she disappeared around acorner.
“I think she likes itbetter at Marcello’s place,” Allison said. “I know he was in Japan,but doesn’t he have—I don’t know—servants who could have taken careof her?”
“Blame Tim,” Ben said. “Hewanted her to be with someone she knows, so—” He winced, becausethe wailing continued. “Would orange juice help?”
“You could shove an entiredinner roll in there and it wouldn’t make a difference,” Allisonsaid. “Do you have a full-length mirror. He’s really into his ownreflection lately.”
“In our bedroom,” Bedsaid.
