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“Say what you will, but you are. You’re struggling to allow yourself to be loved, Hunt,” he said. “I’m not good at love either, but at least I’m willing to change. I’m willing to let the past go and be open to the idea of a new life. You are stuck here in a life that has left you behind.”
Ben walked to the kitchen for his truck keys. “It’s icy out there, Ben. Let me drive you home.”
“I’ll manage,” he said, grabbing his jacket from a hook on the back of the pantry door. “This is not normal, Hunt,” he began, motioning around the room. “The notes. The way you haveevery singleitem in this house lined up to perfection. You’re afraid you’ll move one of Mark’s items and then you’ll forget how he did things.”
“But he’s dead,” I whispered.
“And you’re not,” he reminded me. “And I’m not either.”
“What does that mean?” I asked, moving closer to him, trying to grab hold of him. Ben backed away. “You don’t know what it’s like when someone just up and dies on you,” I persisted.
“You’re right. I don’t,” he replied. “But Idoknow what it’s like being with someone who doesn’t truly see me other than as a sexual being. I’ve done that before. And you’re right. It’s not death, but it sure as hell feels like it.”
“But you ran from him,” I said. “You’re better here.”
“Wrong! I was forced to come here,” he argued. “And the sad truth is if I hadn’t been, I’d probably still be lying to myself and tolerating what Rocco did to me.”
His words cut like a knife. “You’d have stayed? With that man?”
“Yeah. Probably. I wouldn’t have ever known I deserved better, Hunt,” he said. “I wouldn’t have known that an entireother world and another life could exist out of that situation. I was stuck because I accepted my circumstances. Something you are apparently happy to do.”
“But he wasn’t gay,” I said. “He wasn’t giving you his true self,” I reminded him.
Ben glared at me, his shoulders dropping, until his silent accusation settled across my face. “See?” he asked. “Neither are you.”
With that, Ben walked out the door. I knew I should’ve run after him. I knew what he said was all true, and that I had been holding a bit of me back like I always did. But every fear I held close to my chest ruled my behavior. Was Ben actually another Charlie?
I turned and walked to the kitchen counter where I’d left my mug of coffee. I put it in the microwave and stepped to the fridge for some milk. A note read, ‘Check the expiration dates on dairy once a week.’
“Fuck!” I yelled, slamming my fist against the fridge. “Why?” I hollered. “Why the fuck am I like this?”
Bella jumped out of her bed and ran to the bedroom. The microwave chimed. Over and over, it chimed, taunting me. I grabbed the front edges of the machine and yanked it out of the enclosure it sat in, a full mug of coffee inside. The plug fought my attempt to toss it, so I simply dropped it on the floor.
“I hate you, Mark! You fucking died on me,” I raged. “You promised you’d be with me forever. You liar!”
I slid down the front of the kitchen counter, hunched over between the counter and the island across from it. My eyes were shut tight as I fought the unbearable grief that I’d erroneously believed had finally passed after more than two years.
I felt a cool and wet doggy nose on my forehead. Bella stood with her tail between her legs, worriedly staring at me. She didn’t know exactly why I was hurting, but she knew I was. Shenudged her way onto my lap. I pulled her close and buried my face in her winter coat.
“He promised he wouldn’t leave me alone,” I wept. “He promised.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO: Benedict
“We missed out on you completing your residency here, Dr. Hawthorne. But we’d love to offer you an Attending Physician position here at UCLA Medical Center,” Dr. Holland, the Chief of Medicine, said.
“I’m doing a year at my family’s clinic located in a small town in Montana currently,” I answered.
“Are both of your parents doctors and also work at the clinic?” he asked. “I don’t remember seeing their names on your original Curriculum Vitae as references.”
“The clinic is a third-generation facility in a town of a thousand people,” I said. “My parents are not doctors; a grandparent started the clinic. A family trust funds the facility, and to an extent, much of the townsfolk’s healthcare is supported through that trust.”
“That is remarkable, young man,” he stated. “And am I hearing you say that after working in a small community, you miss the big city?”
That was the million-dollar question. Did I miss New York? Did I still long to live and work in LA? Did I miss the crazy pace of a big city? Or the endless amounts of people scurrying about like mice in a maze?
Sure, I missed the excitement of a busy city. The great restaurants. Stuff being open around the clock was nice too. But the anonymity of being just a cog in a massive wheel ofnothingness had been numbing. Because of that, I’d been numb to my life. I felt more alive now in a small town.
“Truthfully, Dr. Holland. I’m not sure if I do miss a big city. But I did call to thank you for the offer letter and to let you know I am considering the job.”
