Page 3 of Splintered
But this was Ben’s home, and before Evan was in his life, he’d decided he wanted to grow old in the house he grew up in, turn his memories over like soil that needed tilling, fill the walls with laughter and soccer cleats and grilled cheese and sunshine. He’d thought that future would include Evan and had started imagining Evan beside him as they cheered on a floppy-haired child tottering after a soccer ball, as they sneaked downstairs to hide Christmas presents while playing Santa, as they read bedtime stories and soothed sore throats and helped with homework. He’d moved Evan into his home three years ago because hecravedthat future with him. They’d even started to remodel the house. They had plans. Hopes. Dreams.
Those plans didn’t include Evan dropping a bombshell on him, wildly veering off course from the future they’d built together, crafting their dreams into one life.
Evan would be an amazing father. He was an amazing man. He’d been an amazing partner.
But.
What would die first? The dreams or their relationship?
Maybe this was the long, slow, terrible end.
Evan gripped the sides of the sink, his shoulders slumping as he stared into the drain, watching the water swirl away. “And what doyouwant, Ben?”
The house could answer that question. The bedrooms they’d talked about turning to nurseries. The walls waiting for family photographs, the love between them doubled, maybe tripled, made larger as they grew. As their love grew.
Fuck, helovedEvan, had fallen for him from that very first night and had held his breath through the first six months, hoping what they had would keep going, that it would deepen, mature from weeknight dinner dates and sex-filled sleepovers and weekend hikes and wine tasting to something richer, something long-lasting. He’d been bursting when Evan blurted out “I love you” first, kissing him under a streetlight after a show in the city, tugging him out of the way of the crowds on the sidewalk and kissing him like he couldn’t wait a moment longer. Like the words had to come out. Ben had embarrassed himself, telling Evan he loved him so much, had fallen in love with him too, thought about him every moment of every day, and just, God,lovedhim.
Evan had laughed and kissed him and then kissed him again.
He’d moved Evan in a month later. He wanted everything. He wanted Evan. He wanted to kiss him under streetlights and on the back porch and in the kitchen and in bed, cradling his face as they made love, cuddling on the couch as they ate pizza and binge-watched Netflix.
Ben turned away. The water in the sink continued to run.
* * *
He smelled burningtoast when he opened his eyes and heard Evan’s “Shit!” from the kitchen. He buried his head under his pillow and groaned.
He didn’t want to crawl out of bed. Didn’t want to pull back the covers and face the day. He’d been up most of the night, waiting, watching the silent doorway, one hand stretched out into the empty space beside him, Evan’s place in their bed cold and unused. Had Evan slept downstairs? On the couch?
The end was nigh, apparently.
What if this is the last day I see him? What if today is the end?
He didn’t know if he should hide in the bathroom and take an eternally long shower, or head downstairs and face the music. He never knew what to do, was always a half second too slow. He always waited, always tried to play it safe. Let Evan make the first move. Let Evan say he loved him first. Let Evan ask about moving in together.
Be more assertive, Evan used to tease.Tell me what you want.
I want you to stay here with me.I don’t want you to move.
The one time he’d stood his ground, everything had fallen apart.
Blasted apart, more like.
Safe would be hiding in the shower, letting the scalding water hide his tears, waiting in the bathroom as he took forever to shave and brush his teeth and style his hair until Evan stormed out to the garage.
Every day, Evan made the long trek into the city, driving to his office on Market and Embarcadero in the heart of San Francisco. He hadn’t thought Evan would want to make that commute, going from the East Bay into the city, but when he moved in, he said he loved it. Getting off the BART train and zoning out with his music and his podcasts up and down the 580 to the 80 and then over the Bay Bridge into the city. “It’s nice in the suburbs. So calm,” he’d said. “Peaceful. Like you.” And then he’d winked and kissed him, and they’d made love in the middle of Evan’s moving boxes stacked like a maze in the living room.
Nice. Peaceful. Calm. Synonyms for boring. How could he have ever believed he’d have kept a man like Evan Lombardi? City born, city bred, city life. He lived and breathed sales, could sell ice to Alaskans, water during a rainstorm. His talents had caught the eye of a mega company, one of those massive Fortune 100 behemoths, and they’d invited him to interview for a Vice President position in their global sales team in New York City. The pay was three times higher than his current salary, already four times higher than Ben’s teacher pay.
Soon, Ben was going to be nothing more than a blip in Evan’s history, a has-been, a smear in his memories of San Francisco and California. Would he remember Ben when he was one of the one percent, when he was a COO, a CEO, when he was part of the power elite?
Ben threw back the covers and struggled to sit up. His chest had caved in sometime in the night. Someone had taken an ice cream scoop to his guts, carved up his insides until he was a twisted mess. He could barely breathe, each inhale tight and thin.
If this was the last day, then damn it, he was going to see Evan. He wasn’t going to hide, play it safe.
Fuck, he still loved him. And that was the problem.What do you do when love isn’t the problem, but the world is?
He grabbed his robe and slipped it on, shuffled downstairs in his boxers and undershirt. He had to clutch his stomach on the landing at the top of the stairs.Don’t throw up.Overhead, an antique chandelier, amber stained glass and old bronze, hung in the dark shadows of the landing, spreading a dull glow through the upstairs. He kept it on most times. It was the only light that could reach up and down the cramped upstairs hall. Next on their renovation list had been updating the lighting. Evan wanted bucket lights and a smart system, programmable dimmers and baseboard nightlights.
