Page 42 of Splintered
He struggled to find his voice. “Mrs. Lombardi, I’m here about your son, Evan.”
Donna Lombardi’s smile dropped. Worry creased her painted face. Evan said she was retired, living a comfortable life of brunches with friends and church gatherings with his dad, William. And, answering her door on a Sunday afternoon, she was dressed in her church finest.
He’d waited for them, watching their car pull into the driveway of their quiet Mountain View home. Redwoods towered overhead, fog from the Bay curling through every mailbox that lined the street. He’d tried not to see ghosts in the haze, hands reaching for him, tried not to turn every pair of headlights into demon eyes that peered into his soul.
“What’s wrong with Evan?” Her voice trembled. “Are you… are you from the police?” She frowned, looking him up and down. He wasn’t wearing anything close to what a cop might wear. He’d grabbed jeans that hadn’t been washed and a hoodie from his closet floor.
It hit him like a freight train as she stared at the hoodie’s logo: St. Mary’s College. Evan’s college. His private school, only 2,500 students in all. “No, Mrs. Lombardi. I’m not from the police.”
“You’re a friend of Evan’s?” She made the leap from the hoodie, and she pulled open the door. “Please come in. Is he all right? Is something wrong? Is he hurt?” She fumbled in the doorway, staring him down, her hands running over themselves after she shut the front door behind him.
“Is there somewhere we can go to talk?” Ben’s hands shook and he shoved his uncasted hand in his pocket. Sweat slicked his skin.
He was about to destroy their entire world. Betray Evan, too. But they had to know. They were his family.
And they had to be the ones to make this decision.
Donna paled. Her lips trembled. She led him to the living room. “William!” she called, her voice straining over the vowels. “William, please come here quickly!” She had him sit. “Can I get you anything?”
“No, Mrs. Lombardi, thank you.” He perched on the edge of their leather sofa, his hands between his knees.
Evan drenched this home, practically haunted it. He was drowning in Evan, surrounded by his lover on all sides. Pictures of him on every wall, stretching from his childhood years with his gigantic smile and even bigger ears sticking out of his head. His teen years, gangly and awkward and with a mouth full of braces. High school, a little cooler, playing football and turning into the hunk of a man he was going to become. College and graduation, posing with his family as the years passed. On the coffee table in front of him, in a place of pride, there was a recent picture of Evan, his mom, and his dad all together, Evan’s arms around their shoulders.
He knew that suit. Knew that haircut on Evan, those lines in his face, that look in his eyes. That had been six months ago. Easter. Evan went to his parent’s house for brunch, leaving Ben in bed after a marathon morning of sweaty sex. Ben had slept until Evan returned, and when he did, Evan had stripped at the foot of the bed before diving back into the covers and making love to Ben for the rest of the afternoon.
Six months, only six months ago, life had been perfect.
An older man hurried into the living room, frowning as his gaze bounced between Ben on his couch and his wife, Donna, sitting on the edge of a wingback chair across from him. From where Ben was sitting, he could see the whites ringing Donna’s eyes, the panic in the set of her mouth. Evan looked the same when he tried to conceal his freakouts.
William was a serious man, Evan had always said, but that he’d had good memories with his father growing up.I was petrified of failing him, Evan said once.That I wouldn’t be what he wanted.
In the center of William’s house, in the center of this mausoleum to his son, Ben felt the crushing weight of expectation, the years of Evan’s childhood falling on him in one flick of William’s heavy gaze.
He’d never had to feel this before. When he was fifteen, his mom told him it was fine that he was gay. She’d known before he did, and when he’d questioned her why she thought he was gay, she’d laughed and told him she saw the way girls were invisible to him but he broke his neck checking out other boys when they were out and about. He’d never even noticed.
But he’d never had to hide.
“Mr. Lombardi.” He should get up. He should shake his hand.
If he stood, he’d fall to the ground. He’d collapse, he knew it.
“What’s going on?” William stood beside his wife, reaching down and grasping her hand as she reached for him. He seemed to take everything about Ben in at once, a three second assessment before staring as deeply into his eyes as Ben had ever felt.
They waited for him.
“I’m here about Evan. He’s—” He swallowed hard. “He’s sick. He’s not doing well. He’s in the hospital—”
“Oh my God,” Donna breathed. Her hand covered her mouth. Her jaw trembled.
“Sick with what?” William’s voice was gruff, strained. His mouth twisted, his lips a ragged line as he wrestled to keep something back.
“Cancer?” Donna whispered.
“They’re not sure what it is yet,” Ben said carefully.
“Oh God!” Donna’s eyes grew even wider. “Why hasn’t he told us himself? Is he in a coma?”
Fuck, this was harder than he thought it would be, and he thought this would be the worst thing he’d ever done after burying his own parents. Burying his lover’s parents, or burying their relationship at least, was just as horrible.
