Page 98 of Something Like Winter
“When’s that?”
“Tomorrow night.”
“So I have you to myself until then.” Tim glanced over at him. “We can do dinner tonight. We’ll feed the cat and then head out. My treat.”
“You don’t need to pay for everything,” Ben said. “I have money too, you know.”
“I can afford it.”
“How?”
That single word was loaded. Heavily. Come to think of it, Ben acted weird every time the topic of money came up. Tim’s stomach sank. He knew what people said about him at school. The rumors had started after he moved in with Eric. The following fall, the fraternity had sent their usual fund-raisers to the alumni, including Eric. Tim had answered the door, recognized one of the brothers, and told them they could go fuck themselves. The rumors had spread after that, lies that would explain Ben’s curious reactions.
“I inherited some money,” Tim said. “A lot, actually.”
“From who?”
“No one you would know,” Tim snapped. He regretted it and took a few steady breaths. “His name was Eric. He was a friend of mine. He died last year.”
“I’m sorry.” Ben paused. “Still, it’s a bit unusual. Inheriting money from a friend, I mean.”
“Is it?”
“Yeah. Unless he was your sugar daddy or something.”
Tim felt his temper rising. “I guess Allison has filled you in on the rumors, then?” Why did people have to be so stupid? Maybe the situation was unusual, but that didn’t give them the right to cast judgment. Especially on Eric. He was amazing and wouldn’t have needed to buy anyone. Ever. “I guess there’s no point in telling you what you already know. Eric was rich, old, and gay. What else could it have been, right?”
Ben looked guilty. “I don’t know.”
“Well, it’s bullshit! People think the whole world revolves around sex and money, but they’re wrong. Eric was a good person and one of the best friends I ever had. All he ever wanted was friendship.”
“I didn’t mean to pry.”
“Yeah, you did, but it’s okay.” Tim exhaled. “I just get tired of what people say. They don’t know me. They take a couple of facts and warp them into something they can feel superior about.”
“Yeah, that does suck.” The hum of tires on the freeway accompanied an awkward pause. “So what’s the truth, then?”
Complicated, to say the least. Tim explained the parts of it he could, how Eric was like the father he’d always wished for. How they could spend hours just being in each other’s company and talking. And how, at the end, Tim found himself playing a role he never expected to. That part was much too complicated to express, so he kept it simple. No details, no breakdown of those final days. Tim had been his nurse. Simple as that.
“So sex was never involved?”
“No! Christ! Can’t gay people just be friends?”
“Sorry. It’s just the money thing—”
The money. Sometimes Tim felt like burning it all just to shut people up. “Yeah, well, what else was Eric supposed to do with it? He didn’t have any kids. Just a sister. She got most of it. I got a small part, which was still a tremendous amount. And the house. She didn’t want it, anyway.”
His little outburst made the rest of the drive awkward. It only got worse for Tim when he followed Ben into Jace’s apartment. He wished it was a horrible dump, cluttered by empty beer cans and smelling like a dirty litter box. Instead it was respectable and comfortable. Samson was cute, a gray furball who Tim felt gave him knowing looks. As soon as the cat was fed, Tim was eager to get Ben away from there, luring him back to the car with promises of dinner. But he needed to step up his game if Jace was due back tomorrow, and that meant finding somewhere private.
“Why don’t we avoid the crowds? We’ll go back to my place and I’ll cook for you.”
Ben’s spidey sense must have tingled. “Eh, I don’t know.”
“It’ll be cool.” Tim switched lanes without waiting for permission. “You’ll like it there.” As he took the next exit, he wondered if that would be true. He couldn’t imagine anyone but him and Eric in that house; the idea of Ben being part of the scenery seemed somehow surreal. But he had to try.
* * * * *
Ben sat on one of the bar stools, glancing around at the large kitchen, unaware that Tim watched him from the doorway. In front of Ben, the countertop held little except decorative bottles of oil. And a container of dry cereal, which had a surprising number of memories surrounding it. Eric loved a bowl of cereal in the morning. Tim always found this amusing. Eric had been such a food connoisseur, but in the mornings he went for artificially colored and heavily sugared cereals, usually with marshmallows. He would always sit where Ben sat now, Tim on the next stool over, as they munched away together.
