After Ben (23 page)

MORGAN: You don’t really want to give me your personal information. At least your e-mail address is relatively anonymous. I could be a psycho, Theo.

THEO: You mean, I could be a psycho.

MORGAN: I’ve been wrong before. Let’s stick to chat.

So they did.

They talked every single day. It didn’t matter if Theo was at work; he stopped whatever he was doing the moment he felt his cell phone vibrate. Sometimes Morgan had a lot to say and couldn’t wait until the evening to talk with Theo. Sometimes he had nothing to say, only offering a “Hey” followed by silence. Theo wondered then if Morgan was missing his boyfriend—it was the one subject Morgan wouldn’t talk about. Theo chatted to himself when that happened, describing his interns’ blossoming love until Morgan’s mood improved.

Whatever the reason for the contact, Theo was happy to waste time with a virtual stranger. Sometimes he forgot what he was doing, finding himself seated in the cafeteria, on his own, with an untouched plate of dessert in front of him and no memory of getting it. Once, he burst out laughing at something so disgustingly dirty Morgan suggested, only to look up from his desk—cheeks pink, balls tingling—to find Evan grinning back at him.

Theo watched him whisper in Joel’s ear after he left the office, and the sight of the taller man’s eyelids closing as Evan started talking made Theo even happier. He described it later to Morgan.

MORGAN: Oh fuck yes! Someone breathing in my ear.

MORGAN: WANT. SO. BAD.

Theo stood at the bottom of the same ladder that his father had used his entire life to maintain their home, and remembered jerking off to the thought of kissing and touching while someone—Morgan?—whispered warmly in his ear.

Theo wanted too.

L
ATER
, Theo was glad that he hadn’t noticed the newly framed photograph on the living room mantelpiece sooner. It had been an almost perfect day at the lake house. If he’d noticed the photo any earlier, he might have found it hard to stay for dinner.

As it was, he had a better time with his parents than he recalled having in a long, long while. His mom settled with one of her huge jigsaw puzzles after dinner. They worked together in comfortable silence for a while, their search for straight edges only broken by the click of his dad’s camera shutter. Theo watched him focusing the camera carefully, using a tripod for once, and considered getting him a digital camera for Christmas. His photography had always been excellent. His dad’s eye for composition was really something special. Theo had neither the eye nor the patience to figure it out for himself.

“It’s all about the rule of threes, son,” his dad always said, explaining that a photo with interest in one third of the shot was much more effective than a photo crammed full of detail. Theo nodded, having no idea what his dad meant.

When Theo stood to stretch, using the fireplace mantle to balance, he saw the new photo and his breath caught—shock and surprise tightening like a vice around his chest—leaving him feeling winded.

His dad only ever used black and white film, and the effect captured the depth of Ben’s irises completely. He looked amazing—so familiar, so handsome, so full of life. His face filled the left third of the frame, and his eyes were looking to the side. He was half smiling. It was his “I’m thinking about kissing you” expression.

Theo touched one fingertip to Ben’s lips and gulped back a sob.

He wouldn’t cry.

No fucking way.

Not at his parents’ house.

Stumbling out to the kitchen, vaguely aware of his mom’s face, drawn and white with worry, Theo repeatedly splashed his face with cold water. When he was done with wiping his face dry, his dad was waiting for him, urging him to follow him up the stairs. Theo followed, even though he felt like getting in his car and driving home right away.

He gulped again.

Just a year ago, he would have pointed the car right at the fucking lake and kept on driving until the pain stopped. He’d spent the same weekend the year before in bed, ignoring the phone and the repeated fucking buzz, buzz, buzz from his front door. He trailed after his dad, remembering how he’d stumbled across the online debate forum after a completely miserable weekend and proceeded to spend the rest of the night lost in other people’s points of view. It had been almost like having half a conversation, and that was about all he could manage for a while.

His dad headed for Theo’s old bedroom, which looked like any other guestroom now. When he pulled open the closet, Theo saw that the internal walls were still papered with cowboys and bucking broncos. He sat on the bed while his dad pulled out album after album of his photographs. He spoke quietly as Theo flipped the pages.

“You know your mother is a little overwhelmed about us going to Italy.”

Theo nodded. He felt a little overwhelmed himself.

“I should have intervened much earlier, Theo.”

Theo shook his head. There was no point rehashing his mom’s reluctance to accept Ben. He’d never understand it—never—but they had to move on.

His dad’s voice got a little stronger. “I always admired the way that Ben never gave up trying. I guess I understand why we didn’t see him with you very often.” Theo sighed heavily, remembering all those meals, stilted with silence, while he imagined his mom thinking of different ways to phrase “You’re too old for my boy.”

“He seemed very fond of you, son.”

Fond.

That was one word for it, Theo guessed. He turned some more pages, almost smiling at photos of himself in the late 1970s with tragic haircuts. He did smile at pictures from the ’80s. He thought he looked so cool back then. “This was when I first figured out I was gay.” He pointed a picture out to his dad. He stood next to a boy he used to pal around with when he was young.

His dad expressed surprise. “You mean John and Sue’s boy is gay too? He’s married with four boys now, son.”

Theo snorted, then said, “We were on our way into Seattle, remember? You took us to the movie theater?” His dad nodded. “We watched
Risky Business
and I fell in love with Tom Cruise.” His dad burst into laughter. “Head over heels, Dad. It was terrible. I couldn’t sleep; I couldn’t eat. He was all I could think about.”

“Oh my God, Theo, is that why you watched
Top Gun
all the time? We thought you wanted to join the Air Force.”

“Well”—Theo nodded—“the thought did have its own appeal.”

“What are you boys so happy about?” his mother asked as she joined them.

Theo and his dad caught each other’s eye. They both laughed again before saying, “Nothing!” in unison.

She came and sat beside Theo, pulling an album onto her lap. Theo was a small child—maybe two years old—in these photos. He was in his mother’s arms in every single shot, fingers curled in the hair right behind her ear.

“She couldn’t put you down ever, Theo. You’d scream bloody murder.” Theo shrugged. Nodding, his dad nudged him in the side before adding, “Do you even remember your first day at school?” Theo shook his head. He really didn’t. “You screamed the place down. You did it every single day for a whole week.”

His mom made a tetchy sound before saying, “We were very close, that’s all. Lots of children cry when they start kindergarten.”

Theo paged through photos of his early years, wondering what Ben would have made of his mom’s perspective. Looking back, he considered if that was why Ben was so very tolerant of her obvious disapproval. Maybe he saw what Theo only now recognized in these old photos: His mother adored him. She shone with it. Theo had hated the way she clammed up around Ben, who used to rub the tension from his back later when they got home, saying, “She is your mother, baby. No one would be good enough.” He conveniently omitted mentioning his own mamma, waving them off from Milan, crying and smiling.

She opened another album. This one was much more recent. It amazed Theo how his dad had managed to take so many candid shots without being obvious. It was full of pictures of him and Ben—walking back up the dock, sitting in the kitchen shelling peas, warming their hands in front of the fire—average, everyday stuff. Considering that Ben had stopped coming to his parents’ home, apart from very rare occasions, years before, there were a lot of photos.

In one of them, Ben’s expression was stern, making him look his age. His mom trailed a finger across the bottom of the photo, sounding uncertain—wary—as she said, “I think this is how I always saw him.” Theo stiffened, suddenly choked with angry words—years’ worth, fucking years’ worth of words. His dad squeezed his knee, silently asking him to stay calm.

“But this is Ben, your Ben, right?” She turned the page. Ben’s eyes were merry, the creases at their corners feathering upward. “And here, also?” She flipped another page. Ben was turned toward Theo, who was engrossed in conversation. Ben’s expression was soft and loving, his eyes limpid.

“He loved you too, Theo.”

Theo nodded, then put his arm around his mom, tangling his fingers in the hair behind her ear.

His voice was hoarse. “Yeah.”

He slung his other arm around his dad.

“Yeah, he did.”

They looked through the rest of the photos together.

When he spoke to Morgan later, he explained that the hardest thing for him was leaving all those photos at his parents’ house.

MORGAN: You wanted to bring him home?

THEO: Yeah.

THEO: So much.

MORGAN: Why didn’t you?

THEO: Hanging on hurts more now than letting go.

MORGAN: You need to say good-bye.

THEO: I don’t know what I need anymore.

MORGAN: That’s okay, Theo. I do.

Chapter 13

M
AGGIE
was on a mission.

Theo recognized the signs: She was determined to talk to him about Morgan, ignoring all his attempts to keep their conversation professional.

“Yes, yes, I heard you the first five times, Theo. You aren’t going to tell me anything because,” she made air quotes before adding, “there’s nothing to tell.”

She walked around his desk, nudging at his chair with her knees until she wriggled herself between Theo and his paperwork. “Now, tell me everything.” Resisting Maggie was futile, Theo decided. Just as resisting Morgan was. He’d had a morning full of messages from the man.

MORGAN: What are you doing now?

MORGAN: And now?

No detail seemed too boring. Theo was starting to wonder if Morgan actually ever went to work himself.

MORGAN: I can work from bed. It’s very civilized. You should try it.

MORGAN: So… what are you doing now?

Between Morgan and Maggie, Theo’s day was completely unproductive. He left his phone on his desk, grabbed a folder of notes from a meeting, and took refuge in the archive room. Evan looked up, blinking, as he pushed the heavy door open. “Don’t mind me, Evan. I just need… um….” He looked around, then caught Evan’s smile and smiled back, shrugging. “I just need some peace.”

Evan rolled his eyes, making space at the counter for Theo’s folder of papers. As they read in comfortable silence, Theo couldn’t help noticing that Evan was working on something that he could complete at his desk. For a moment, his old concerns about David Daly’s son lapped around his ankles. “Is everything all right, Evan?” He gestured toward his work. “Can’t you do that at your desk?” He would be surprised, and a little sad, if Joel had reverted to his previous intense attention.

He watched as Evan reddened. The bright florescent light made his hair seem almost silver, and Theo was sitting close enough to notice that he had a faint spattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose. It was a shame, Theo thought, that there wasn’t a masculine word for pretty. Pink-faced Evan would suit it perfectly.

When the blond smiled up at him, his expression was almost embarrassed. “I can’t seem to concentrate.” He colored up a little more.

“Me either.”

Evan’s eyes fell to Theo’s tie, then lifted again as he said, “Yeah, I can tell.” When Theo protested that he couldn’t see anything wrong with his choice of clothes, Evan sighed, shaking his head.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” At Theo’s shrug, Evan added, “I’m helping out at Aiden’s store. You should come by and see me.” His fingers trailed up Theo’s tie as he shook his head, blond hair falling forward. “Maybe you could get your sight tested at the same time.”

Theo’s laugh masked the sound of the door opening behind him. Evan’s heightened flush was the only indicator that they had company. As he turned, Theo noticed Joel standing in the doorway, smoothing an uncharacteristic frown into equally un-Joel-like blankness.

“Evan, why don’t you go and use my desk? I won’t need it for a while.” Yeah, a little time with Joel might be a good idea, Theo figured, as Evan suddenly released his tie. The taller man looked away, jaw jutting, purposefully staring anywhere but at Evan.

Once he was gone, Joel huffed out a breath. Theo bowed his head over his notes, giving him some space. Ben had been so similar. If he had shit on his mind, he’d puff and blow, no matter how many times Theo asked what was wrong. Sometimes he used to lose his temper with Ben, demanding to know what the fuck was up.