Page 53 of Something Like Summer
As Ben watched him leave,he knew there was no longer any point in trying to stophim.
* * * * *
There remained onepossibility, one iota of hope in the form of a key. The idea keptBen awake at night, tormenting him with promises he knew wereimpossible, but still it whispered to him, urging him to try. Wherewords fail, only action can succeed.
One humid July night, Bendecided that he’d had enough. He had been staring at the red ledlight of the clock, unable to sleep. Tired of temptation, he threwoff the sheets, grabbing the key after he had dressed. Onceoutside, he walked the familiar path he had followed so many nightsbefore. He could have walked it with his eyes closed.
He tried to brush aside thefear welling up inside him as he used the key. Two months hadpassed. Would it still work? Was there an alarm system now? Thesmall click only worsened his feelings of anxiety. It might havebeen better if the key hadn’t worked. Now there was so much more toface.
Moonlight poured throughthe window in Tim’s room, allowing him to see that little hadchanged. He ignored the shape in bed and walked instead to thewindow. Ben looked up at the moon and said a silent prayer to itthat he might be strong enough, before staring down at the emptybackyard where everything had fallen apart. Ben listened to thesound of Tim’s breathing until he could resist no longer and wentto him, sitting on the corner of his bed.
He studied the curve ofTim’s shoulder, following the line down to a tan arm pressed tightagainst the white sheet. Ben’s heart ached. He wanted nothing morethan to reach out and touch his skin, to slip underneath the sheetsand wrap his arms around him. Together they would lay for alleternity, the world crumbling to dust around them, so that nothingcould ever stand in their way again.
Ben stood and Tim stirredin his sleep, rolling over onto his back. His face was hidden inshadow, but Ben could see enough to make him want to weep. He wasso handsome, so beautiful. Inside and out. Ben leaned forward,bringing his lips as close to Tim’s as possible without actuallykissing him.
Then Ben pulled away. As heleft he hung the key that Tim had given him on the doorknob. Heglanced one final time at the bed as he closed the door, and sawlight reflecting off Tim’s open eyes. Ben didn’t hesitate or stall.The moon had granted his request. He was strong as he shut the doorand walked out into the dark, lonely night.
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Part Two:
Chicago, 1999
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Chapter 16
Snow. Freezing,eye-stinging, finger-numbing snow. Had he ever really wished forsuch weather in Texas? The bottom five inches of Ben’s jeans weresoaking wet as he tromped through the damnable substance. TV hadgiven him a false impression of snow. Sure, it was beautiful whenit first started falling, the blanketed mounds inspiring warmChristmassy thoughts, but that was just the beginning. Thehoneymoon stage. It didn’t take long for Chicago’s infamous trafficto turn it all into ugly gray slush.
A warm glow from a coffeeshop window beckoned, promising warmth and dryness. Ben had neverdeveloped a taste for coffee, but surely there would be somethingelse in there he could drink. One of those weird Italian sodaswhere you could choose the flavor, or maybe a hot cocoa. He pausedon the sidewalk a moment before forcing himself onward to hisapartment. He had a date with Mason.
Of course it was Mason’sfault that he was running late. Last-minute Christmas shopping on ashoestring budget had taken most of the day. To even worry aboutbeing tardy was silly. Mason suffered from chronically latesyndrome, always an hour late if not more. That was the inspirationfor buying the pocket watch. This scheme had failed Ben’s motherthree years ago, but he had found the idea charming. The watch wassterling silver, suited his own tastes, and hadn’t been engraved.Even with Christmas just around the corner, Ben knew there was afair chance that he and Mason would no longer be anitem.
In the twenty days they hadbeen together, Mason had burned through three different jobs. WhenBen had first met him, Mason had been the punky bartender atMertyl’s, an out-of-the-way lesbian bar. Ben had instantly fallenfor his bad boy appeal. The colored hair, piercings, and poorlyrealized tattoos were in complete contrast to the preppy prettyboys or delicate artistic types on campus. Most students had atleast one of these rebellious elements, but there was somethinggenuinely trashy about Mason.
The job at the bar endedabruptly among rumors of money missing from the register. Nextthere was the construction job at an outlet mall, something Mason’sripcord muscles might be suited to, but this only lasted two days.Ben was never sure what had happened, although he suspected amarathon drug binge had gotten in the way. Mason was currentlyworking retail at a music store. At least he had been a few daysago when Ben had seen him last.
With a prayer of gratitudeto any god listening, Ben hurried into the minimal amount of warmthhis apartment building afforded. Apartment was a laughable term, asthe tiny living areas barely qualified as dorms and the slumlordowner knew it. Except for a few senior citizens and eccentrics, allten stories of the building were inhabited by students who didn’twant to live on campus. The concept had sounded so grown up to Benat the time, but the reality was far from glamorous.
Ben bit the tips of hisgloved fingers and pulled his hand free. He struggled with numbdigits to find the keys and unlock the door to his apartment. Thesmell of cigarette smoke greeted him as he entered. Mason was here.Ben called out, puzzling over the darkness of the apartment. WasMason sleeping?
Ben entered the living roomthat was barely big enough for a couch and flipped on a light.After a two-second delay, the light came on, revealing a blank spotin the corner. After a moment Ben realized that the twenty-two inchTV was missing. Fear tiptoed up his spine. He had been robbed! Thatwasn’t the frightening thought. The idea that the robber mightstill be lurking in the apartment was.
Ben went next to thecloset-sized kitchen to fetch the biggest, and only, cutting knifehe owned. Wielding it like a thief detector, he made a sweep of therooms. Considering the apartment’s size, this didn’t take long.Whoever had been there was gone, but had taken Ben’s TV andboombox. The six-pack of beer that Ben had begged a friend to buyearlier in the day was also missing from the fridge.
Ben didn’t need to playSherlock Holmes and examine the sole cigarette butt in the ashtray,but he did anyway. The familiar generic brand underlined Mason’sname in triplicate, which was overkill since it was alreadyhighlighted and accompanied by a row of exclamationpoints.
Oh, well, Ben mused, oneless present to wrap.
He threw himself on thecouch, too despondent to take off his winter jacket. The worst partwas yet to come. Ben could deal with the loss of his crappy TV orthe beat-up old boombox, but being single for the holidays wouldleave him free to entertain old ghosts that he would rather forget.Still, there were a few days left. Maybe that was enough time tofall in love with someone new.
Ben finally looked to theblinking red light that had been clamoring for his attention. Atleast Mason hadn’t stolen the answering machine. Hell, maybe hecalled to leave a drunken apology. Ben wouldn’t put it past him. Herose and jabbed at the machine, which beeped in protest beforeplaying its message.
“Ben?” The voice wasstrained. “It’s me.”
Allison? She sounded sodifferent that he could barely be sure it was her. Something waswrong.
“My dad. He’s--” There wassobbing, in the midst of which sounded like the words heart attack.“Please call me back. I love you.”
