Page 71 of Something Like Winter
The woman was exasperated. “I don’t have to tell you that Eric is a stubborn old goat! That’ll keep him strong for a while, but he certainly won’t listen to me. Have you tried talking to him about chemo?”
“Chemo?” Tim repeated with dry lips.
“He can at least give it a try instead of throwing in the towel. I’ve seen it help people in his situation before.”
Tim nodded dumbly. “Cancer,” he managed to say.
“I know, dear. It’s horrible, isn’t it? Well, you stay strong and see if you can’t convince him, okay? Do you have my number? You can always call if you have questions or if you need someone to talk to.”
She reached across the space between their vehicles to hand him a business card. Tim took it and thanked her. Then he pulled into the driveway and stared at it.Lisa Ownby: Austin Heights Hospice Care.This couldn’t be right. Eric wasn’t sick. He was in great shape and full of life. Besides, he would have told Tim about something like this. Maybe they had only known each other for a month or two, but they were close. Weren’t they?
But Eric did have that cough he was always quick to dismiss. Tim knew all about keeping secrets, and the more he thought about it, the more the pieces fell into place. Marcello hadn’t been baiting Tim. He really had slipped up! And that hurt worse, because Marcello knew and Tim didn’t. Why would Eric trust a sleazebag like that instead of him? The thought angered him enough that he started the car so he could pull out and leave.
But he couldn’t. He was pissed and would tell Eric so.
Tim killed the engine and stormed to the front door, ringing the bell mercilessly. Then it opened and he saw Eric—appearing smaller and more fragile than usual against the light. Tim grabbed him into a hug.
“What in the world?” Eric said, voice strained. “Are you okay? Did things go badly with Marcello?”
“No,” Tim said, letting go. “I’m just hungry, is all.”
Eric’s gaze flickered over him with concern before he smiled. “You know I’m always good for a sandwich. Come in!”
Once in the kitchen, Tim watched Eric carefully, as if signs of his illness would be apparent now that he knew. But Eric seemed fine. Maybe that’s why he chose to hide it—because he could. Tim knew that game all too well. But it still hurt him that Marcello had Eric’s confidence and he didn’t.
“Do you trust me?” Tim asked.
Eric paused in the midst of buttering a slice of bread. “Of course!”
“I mean, I feel close to you. Like I can be open with you. I want you to feel the same way with me.”
Eric nodded, continuing his work in silence. Butter, lettuce, ham, cheese, mayo. Tim’s stomach growled in anticipation. He practically snatched the plate away from Eric when it was ready.
“He works his models hard, doesn’t he?” Eric looked him over. “I hope you weren’t put in any situations that made you uncomfortable.”
Tim shook his head while chewing.
“That’s good,” Eric said. “Marcello, for the bad impression he can make, is an absolute professional. He was one of Gabriel’s friends when we first met, and to be honest, I couldn’t stand him. I used to call him the Fat Man. You know, from the oldMaltese Falconmovie?”
Tim shrugged.
“Anyway, first impressions aren’t everything. Marcello might not embrace traditional ideas of romance and relationships, but he cares about people in his own way.” Eric leaned back against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ve known him for longer than you’ve been alive. Sometimes that much history alone can make you comfortable around a person.”
Comfortable enough to confide in him that you have a deadly disease. Tim broke eye contact and kept chewing. Truth be told, there were still plenty of things Eric didn’t know about him, little things that he preferred to keep to himself, like his painting. To anyone else, an interest like that wouldn’t be worth keeping secret, but Tim needed to because his art made him feel vulnerable. He could only imagine how cancer could make someone feel the same, but for very different reasons.
So Tim would pretend, if that’s what Eric wanted. But there were other things he needed to know, subjects he avoided to be polite. Marcello knowing Eric so well made Tim feel like he needed to catch up somehow.
“All that business with the fraternity—” Tim began, but he didn’t need to finish because Eric nodded.
“You want to know what really happened. Tell me, is that old gazebo still behind the fraternity house?”
Tim shook his head.
“I’m not surprised. It was practically falling down when I was your age. Anyway, there was someone in my life, another brother. We weren’t roommates like you and Travis are. That would have saved us a lot of trouble. Michael and I discovered each other anyway, and occasionally we managed to find private moments alone. Back then I was still willing to compromise. Those closest to me knew I was gay, as did my family, but it seemed prudent to keep a low profile.
“Michael and I were together for more than a year this way, and I have to admit our relationship being a secret made it all the more thrilling. Perhaps that’s why we became more and more daring. One evening, during a party at the fraternity house, we snuck out to the gazebo. The weather had been terrible, so everyone was staying in. Unfortunately, we got carried away and let down our guard. A young lady came outside and caught us in a compromising situation. Do you need me to—”
“No,” Tim said, his throat tight. “I can imagine.”
