Page 128 of Something Like Winter
“It’s work. It’s not supposed to be fun.” Tim remembered the
experience all too well. “When do you have to go back?”
“I don’t. I quit.”
This led to another argument, but by the end of it, Tim agreed to pay
Ryan’s tuition as long as he promised to attend classes. Even when the
school year started, Ryan still went out and partied most nights. Every
time he came home, he lashed out like Tim had done something wrong. “Some like their freedom,” Marcello advised when Tim stopped by.
“Others hold it against you. It sounds to me like you either need to live
his lifestyle or cut him loose. I speak from experience when I say you
should cut your losses now.”
But Tim didn’t agree. He had just turned twenty-five, not fifty, so the
next time Ryan planned to go out, Tim invited himself along. And
Marcello was right. Suddenly those angel eyes were shining again. They
hit the clubs together and danced, Stephen’s crew unsure at first, but
when they offered Tim a pill to “enhance his fun,” he took one look at
Ryan and his encouraging nod and swallowed the pill down with a swig
of beer.
When they got home that night, Tim’s head spinning in a million
different directions, there were no cruel barbs, no taunts. There was only
Ryan, pulling him into the bedroom with a smile so they could play his
favorite game.
* * * * *
Hell came every morning. No, not morning. Time had gone topsyturvy nearly a year ago. Dawn was for going to sleep, the afternoon for
waking up. Regardless of the hour, every time Tim woke, he felt like
hell. Usually hangovers were to blame. Those could be chased away by a
nice greasy meal. Other times Tim was strung out, which was
particularly bad, because the only cure was to tough it out or try to figure
out what they had been taking so he could get more.
In those hours when he was sober, he was always tired. Ryan seemed
immune to all of this, always ready for the next adventure. The nights
