Page 95 of Something Like Forever
Ben took the opportunityto say his goodbyes, which consisted of more tears, splutteredwords, and all the love leaking from his broken heart. Then heforced himself to walk away, needing to check on Tim. He didn’tfind him in the house, so he went out to the garage, where theshovel was kept when not in use. The door was still open and theshovel was there, but Tim wasn’t. Neither was his car.
“Shit,” Benhissed.
Then he broke into a run,sprinting down the long drive and hoping to catch the DodgeChallenger before it drove away. Too late. The car was gone and sowas Tim. Ben pulled out his phone. He didn’t want to call or text.Not while Tim was driving and upset. That would only make anaccident more likely. Ben opened the GPS tracker app instead,impatiently waiting while it promised to update the last knownlocation. When it finally did, Tim wasn’t far away. He was in WestLake Hills. Eric’s old house? Is that where he was going? Bencontinued to watch before it clicked. Another possibility was inthe same area. It was the weekend, meaning Marcello should be athome instead of at the studio. Acting on impulse, Ben called him,the voice that answered jovial.
“Youknow,” Marcello said, “whenever I see your name on the display, Iswear the sun comes out and the birds start tosing.”
“We lostChinchilla,” Ben said, not capable of pleasantries because it tookall his effort to speak without crying. “Tim took off. I think he’sheaded your way.”
“I see.”Marcello’s tone was serious now. “I’ll meet him at the front gateand keep you informed. Try not to worry. I’ll make sure he’s takencare of.”
“Thanks,” Ben said,emotion overwhelming his resolve. “Whatever he needs,okay?”
“Whatever you need as well,” Marcello replied. “Please don’thesitate to contact me.”
“Okay.Thank you.” That’s all Ben could manage. He too needed to grieve,so he hung up, went back inside, and lost himself in memories of agoofy dog who had been the light of their lives.
* * * * *
“He doesn’t deal well withdeath.”
Marcello stopped by thenext afternoon. No quips, no champagne, and no amusing anecdotes.He was grim and appeared exhausted. He accepted Ben’s offer of tea,and once the two mugs were steeping, they sat down together at thekitchen table.
“WhenEric died,” Marcello continued, “Tim was… stoic. I know some peoplefelt he was cold, but I had seen enough of him to know that wasn’ttrue. Tim didn’t cry at the funeral, at least not where anyonecould see him. He insisted on handling every tedious detailinvolved in laying Eric to rest, but between you and me, he wasincapable. I believe it took all of his willpower to hold hisemotions in check. I helped where I could, and quickly learned notto ask how he was feeling. If I did so, Tim would react with anger.It’s easier to grind our teeth at how unfair this world is and rageagainst invisible injustices rather than let the pain flow to oureyes. A reluctance to cry is the curse of every man. We are fools,only delaying the inevitable. Once Eric was buried and the funeralover, Tim retreated into the house they shared and didn’t come backout again. I checked in on him once and found him passed out nextto a bottle of morphine.”
“Morphine!” Ben repeated. He knew Tim had experimented withdrugs while dating Ryan but imagined him pressured into doing so,not because he sought relief.
“Tim is no junkie,” Marcello said, pickingup on his thoughts. “I believe he would have risked anything tostave off the pain he felt, and Eric’s leftover medicine—well,theyarecalled painkillers. Who could blame him for trying? Morphinewasn’t the only bottle he turned to. After enough of thisindulgence, I stepped in and forced him to face the world again.I’m afraid this pattern is repeating itself now. Without the drugs,mind you.”
“He’sbeen drinking,” Ben said, neither surprised nor judgmental. He wasglad for the update, since Tim hadn’t responded to any texts orattempts to call. “How is he now?”
Marcello grimaced. “Lastnight he drank himself unconscious. When he woke again, he was sickand then started drinking again. He’s sleeping it off now. Don’tworry. Nathaniel is in the next room, just in case Tim should wake.I know this sort of behavior isn’t favored by spousesbut—”
“Just make sure he doesn’tkill himself,” Ben said. “Or poison himself too much. Anddefinitely no drugs! Try to make him eat something and drink wateroccasionally. I know it won’t be easy, but please try.”
Marcello’s smile wasweary. “You are a testament to love. I’ve been told many times justhow selfless it can be, although I’m not sure I believed it untilthis moment.”
“Iunderstand what he’s going through. It’s hard to deal with thepain, so he’s doing so through a filter until he’s strong enough toface it sober.” Ben swallowed. “I just… Please don’t tell him Isaid this, but why can’t he do that here? With me? Because hethinks I wouldn’t let him drink that much?”
“Would you?”
Ben hesitated. He probablywouldn’t, only because he would worry for Tim’s wellbeing. Or maybeBen would have joined him. He wasn’t sure.
“Theissue, I believe,” Marcello continued, “is that Tim feels the needto be strong for you. Something he is entirely incapable of at themoment. I’m sure he is also aware of the migratory nature of pain,how love can be a pathway for hurt to travel along and reachothers. I have ached deeply while watching him suffer. The effectwould be tenfold for you. I suspect Tim would spare you suchunpleasantness.”
Ben wanted to argue thathe was willing to hurt for him—that it was a promise of theirmarriage—but he knew it wouldn’t be fair. Tim already had enough todeal with without feeling guilty. “Tell him that I love him andthat I understand.”
“You have my word that Iwill convey your message, and that I will return him safely toyou.”
Ben felt a surge ofgratitude. “Whenever someone dies, it always makes me want to tellthe other people in my life how I feel about them. I love you,Marcello. Tim does too. You’re part of our family.”
Marcello smiled. “And bothof you are not only a part of my family, but also pieces of myheart. I can see in your eyes where you would rather have me be. Ifyou don’t mind, I too feel the urge to check in on him.”
Ben nodded. He wished hecould be there instead, but there were few people he would entrustTim’s welfare to more than Marcello.
* * * * *
Tim woke up feeling likeHell had moved into his body and wasn’t concerned about thesecurity deposit. His stomach was empty and acidic, his headthrobbed, and his mouth was so dry that he expected to cough dust.What came next was worse. His mind caught up with his body,reminding him what real pain felt like. A hangover was nothingcompared to irrevocable loss. His little princess wasgone.
