Page 143 of Something Like Winter
“Yeah. Don’t let them give any money to the foundation,” Tim said. “I mean, a token amount is okay, but I know they struggle.”
Marcello nodded. “It’s hardly needed. Some very generous donations have already been made this year. Enough that we’ll be left with an excess, which is never ideal for a charity. No doubt there are artists who could use the money, but sorting through grant applications is timeconsuming, as is conducting the interviews.”
“Really? Sounds kind of fun, actually.”
“I have enough on my plate,” Marcello said dismissively.
Tim’s plate was still empty, except for hanging out with Ben and Jace occasionally. He was beginning to wonder if he was living vicariously through them.
“Besides,” Marcello continued, “you have no idea how desperate the applicants are to have anyone look at their art. I keep telling them to take a photo and put it online.”
Tim shook his head. “It’s never the same. Even the best photographer can’t capture the full spirit of a painting. Have you thought of doing more than just giving grants? What if you rented a gallery space for new artists to exhibit at?”
“The idea is nice, but again, finding time is an issue.”
“Not for—” Tim glanced at Marcello accusingly. “You’re totally playing me, aren’t you?”
The hint of a smile betrayed him. “Not at all,” Marcello said. “But if you should happen to know someone who is willing to work long hours for free, then be sure to send him my way.”
Tim stared at him. “I’ll think about it.”
“Good.” Marcello offered his arm and nodded toward the dance floor. “Now how about we give Ben and Jace a run for their money?” * * * * *
Hobbits fought a giant spider while elsewhere, elves and dwarves battled evil orcs. All of it was lost on Tim. He could only focus on the nearness of the body next to him, the warmth underneath the quilt that was just inches away. Forget magical golden rings. If there was one burden in the world impossible to bear, it was love.
Jace and Ben had invited him over for dinner. Of course Jace could cook. The meal was well prepared, the conversation pleasant and followed by the third and finalLord of the Ringsmovie on DVD. The extended edition ofReturn of the Kingwas apparently twelve million hours long, or so it felt. And Tim was grateful, especially when Ben stretched out on the couch, resting his head on Jace’s lap, and his feet— At first the bottom of those were flat against Tim’s outer thigh. After focusing on this contact for the longest time, remaining completely motionless, Tim moved his hand beneath the quilt, taking hold of one of Ben’s feet like they were holding hands.
Silly as it was, it meant everything to him that Ben didn’t pull away. Instead he wriggled his toes in response, sighing contently. Is this what Ben wanted, both his ex-boyfriend and his husband at once? Tim had never entertained the idea, but right now he would agree to anything because things were getting bad. Terribly bad. He and Ben found a lot of excuses like this, little ways of touching each other—goodbye hugs that went on a little too long, or playful shoves where hands brushed down the other’s body instead of pushing. They even snuck lunch together once without Jace.
No matter what they promised and how much they swore, they were slowly giving in to the gravitation between them. Tim had no doubt that Ben loved Jace, but Eric was right. Love wasn’t exclusive, nor did it expire, and if one of them didn’t act soon, there would be no turning back.
Except Tim didn’t want it to end. This time together had been nice, even if Ben wasn’t his. In a way, being friends meant getting to know him outside the pressure of a relationship. They had fun. Too much fun, maybe.
As for the movie, the damn ring finally ended up in the volcano, but even then Frodo was left haunted. There was no escaping this curse.
“I’ll get the dishes done,” Jace said as the credits rolled.
Ben sat up, pulling his foot away. “I’ll help.”
“Me three!” Tim offered.
“No, just relax,” Ben said. “We’ll have them done lickity split.”
“I’m buying you guys a dishwasher for Christmas,” Tim said. “It’s like Amish-land here. Who does dishes by hand?”
“Us po’ folks,” Jace said, leading his husband away.
Once they were out of sight, Tim groaned and fell over on his side. He stretched out on the couch and pulled the quilt up to his neck. All he could think was how nice doing dishes with Ben would be, both of them wearing brightly colored rubber gloves. Jace and Ben weren’t poor. They were richer than he would ever be.
Lickity split must have meant something different to them, because Tim was nearly nodding off by the time he heard footsteps padding across the carpet. He kept his eyes closed. Maybe Ben would wake him with a kiss. Whoever was in the room with him didn’t seem to be doing anything. Were they just standing there watching him?
“Is he asleep?” Jace’s voice said from farther away.
“Yeah.” Ben’s whisper came from just in front of the couch. “Let’s let him crash here.”
“Okay. Are you coming to bed?”
“I’ll be there in a second. I just want to lock up.”
