by Sam LaRose
Wednesday, Harriet brought him a stack of messages and the mail that contained the bill from his parents. Thursday, he started feeling anxious about the conversation he’d had with the doctor on Tuesday. He wasn’t sure he wanted a diagnosis. According to his basic web searching, an adult diagnosis of ADHD or autism was unusual anyway.
Friday, he realized he hadn’t seen anyone besides Harriet and his students, or even looked at his phone in four days. He’d spent every night that week at the house. He knew what he was avoiding. After class, he went to the Java Pub for coffee and to sketch. For himself, not for a commission. He wasn’t surprised when Jordan slipped into the booth across from him.
“Haven’t seen you around all week.” Jordan folded his hands on the table.
“I’ve been busy with commissions,” he told him. “Were you working on the bike today?”
Jordan nodded. “It’ll be done next month.”
“Good.”
“I talked to your Dad yesterday,” Jordan continued. “He asked how you were.”
“Great. Now he’s openly soliciting information from my friends.”
“I told him I didn’t know because I hadn’t seen you.”
Dylan closed his sketch book and took a sip of his cold coffee before looking at him. “If you’re getting around to telling me I’ve been a shitty person, I’m self-aware.”
“Are you going to meetings again?”
“No.”
“Are you going to?”
“No. Will you stop the questions now?”
“I have a few more. Did you call Travis?”
“I texted him to let him know why I was MIA.”
“And Benjamin?”
“What about Benjamin?”
Jordan leaned back into the booth, looking disappointed. “He’s thinking about leaving to go back to Montana. He can’t seem to find another job here.”
“That’s unfortunate.” Dylan stilled. “Have you been talking to him?”
“Not exactly. After I drove him home last week, I let him know when you got discharged. You’re still refusing to talk to him.”
“He has nothing to say that I want to hear.”
“What about Tyler?”
“What about Tyler?” A hazy memory of consciousness in the hospital resurfaced. His stomach dropped.
“He was at the hospital last week. Did anyone tell you that?”
Dylan shoved the sketchpad and pencil case into his messenger bag. “Tell me, is it socially expected to send thank you cards in that situation? I was unaware. How gauche of me.”
“I hate it when you start talking all posh,” Jordan quipped. “It makes you sound like an asshole.”
“I am an asshole. It’s my most defining personality characteristic at this point.” The strap of Dylan’s bag was pulled over his head and shoulder. He drank the last of his coffee. “I have work to get back to.”
When he’d returned to the house, to his studio, he stared at the painting he’d started. The commissioner sent him several photographs of their grandmother as a young woman. Per his instructions, he’d received a video of an older woman who had zero interest in being in front of her grandchild’s smart phone camera. It had been enough to ignite a spark and the painting was coming along nicely.
He looked up at the clock. Office hours were over for the week, but if he put it off until Monday, he wouldn’t go through with it. He picked up his phone.
“Dr. Miller, this is Dylan Montgomery. I’m sorry for leaving on Tuesday. I’d like to see you again, if you still have an appointment slot open.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
“What are you doing here?”
“You were the only person I could think of that wouldn’t judge me.”
Tyler winced as Greg laughed. The man stepped out of the doorway, ushering him inside of his apartment.
“You’re lucky I’m even here,” Greg informed him. “I was supposed to have a date tonight, but she cancelled.”
“She?” Tyler asked.
Greg nodded. “We met as single diners at that ramen place, down the street from the Lunchbox. There was a table shortage, so I invited her to share.”
“That was nice of you.” Tyler turned back toward Greg. “Why did she cancel?”
“She didn’t say and I didn’t ask. She was pretty and likable, but it wasn’t an instant connection. I’m not broken up about it.”
“You don’t seem to be.” Tyler stuffed his hands into his pockets.
“Why are you really here?” Greg pressed.
“Dylan ended up in the hospital after taking some ecstasy. Jordan saw him at the Java Pub, but otherwise he hasn’t been back to his apartment since he walked out last Saturday. I’m worried about him and I can’t do anything about it.”
“Your first instinct was to come see me?” Greg’s eyebrows furrowed. “I’m flattered, but confused.”
“I know where he is. Sort of. I’ve never been there,” Tyler began to ramble, mostly ignoring Greg. “His mentor died and left him a house. He’s been working out of it. Or, that’s what Jordan said. Everything I know is second hand. Dylan told me to stop, so I’m trying hard to do that.”
“Fuck, don’t cry.” Greg steered him into a chair and handed him a box of tissues. “Start from...cripes, I don’t even know where you can start from on this one. How about him telling you to stop? Stop what?”
“I can’t start there.” Tyler dabbed at his eyes and blew his nose. “You don’t know about the artwork.”
“The artwork?”
“After the band played our last show at the Rose Room in September,” Tyler began, “Dylan was working on an artistic response to me. A comic. To help him deal with his own feelings.” Tyler explained the situation, as best as he could; about the piece he’d found in the living room of Jack and Dylan’s apartment. Then, about the night that Dylan had given him the print and the pages of the unfinished comic. He even included sleeping with Simon, and concluded with the phone call he’d received from Jordan as Dylan was on his way to the hospital.
“That’s...a lot.” Greg perched on the edge of the couch across from him. “Do you feel better now? Telling me about it?”
“Why couldn’t I have just been in love with you?” Tyler asked. “We were great together. Why am I so stupid that I can’t let him go? It’s been years. He obviously wants nothing to do with me.”
“You’re not stupid. You’re,” Greg paused, picking his word choice carefully, “a romantic. After Heath, Dylan is the first guy you ever had feelings for. You thought he was the one. Sometimes that’s harder to get over than you expect.”
“Are you speaking from experience?”
“Tyler, I loved you,” Greg announced. “If you’d come to me crying like this, a week after our break-up, I would have taken you back in a heartbeat. With some time, I did get over the feelings I had for you. Which is just proof we weren’t meant to be more than friends. Right?”
Tyler nodded.
“So, what are you going to do about Dylan?”
“He’s been seeing another guy.”
“Oh. Is it serious?”
Tyler then explained the other set of events, or what he had surmised, that lead to Dylan’s hospitalization, ending with him punching Benjamin in the lobby. By the end of it, Greg had a hand pressed to his face, aghast.
“I need a drink.” He slapped his thighs as he stood up. “Do you want one?”
“You know I don’t drink,” Tyler reminded him.
“First time for everything,” Greg quipped. He went for his minibar; a rehabbed cart he’d picked up at a flea market. He poured himself a finger of scotch before turning back to Tyler. “You don’t know how Dylan feels about this guy?”
“Not from him,” Tyler answered. “It was a secretive thing. Even Jack and Jordan don’t know much about the guy.”
“I see.” Greg sucked in a terse breath after knocking back the Scotch. “Tyler, I can’t give you any advice about this.”
> “I didn’t come to ask for advice.”
“What did you come for then?”
“I don’t know. I thought talking to you, as someone from the outside, would give me a fresh perspective.”
“You still love this guy? After everything that’s happened? Everything that’s been said?”
“No offense,” Tyler began, “but he’s all I think about most days. He has been since our break-up. I never stopped worrying about him. You were right to think I kept something from you. I did.”
“Why are you worried about him?”
“Because he does stupid things. He has a warped idea of what being an adult is. I’m afraid he’s going to hurt himself and I’ll be—” He stopped himself from finishing the sentence.
“You’ll be what?”
“Nothing. It’s stupid.”
“Stop saying everything is stupid. Spit it out.”
“I’m afraid he’ll hurt himself and I’ll be alone again.”
“Alone?”
“Everyone else has someone. People. I don’t. After my parents died, it was just me and Rachel. I had Heath, but I pushed him away and encouraged him to spend time with other people. Dylan, though, he was separate from everything. He didn’t know everything about me. He wasn’t connected to anyone else. He was just mine.”
“That sounds a bit possessive.”
“I don’t mean it that way. It’s hard to explain. When I broke up with him, I expected it to be a break. He’d figure out his shit and come back. When he left, I forced myself to move on. I thought I had, when I found you.”
“But I wasn’t him.”
“No, you weren’t.”
“Now he’s back. You’re frustrated that he hasn’t given you the second chance.”
“I’m frustrated that he’s acting like we meant nothing to each other.”
“You’re very concerned with how you feel versus how he’s acting. What about how Dylan feels?”
“I don’t know how he feels. He admitted to me back in May that he missed me. Then, every time I tried to talk to him since, he shuts down before I get more out of him.”
“Even with one of your patented Real Talks?”
Tyler considered that for a moment. They hadn’t had a real Real Talk since that day in the studio.
“The only advice I’m going to give you,” Greg sat back down on the couch, “is that you should knock it off with the grand romantic gestures. Stop letting your feelings get in the way of having an actual conversation. Let him do the talking.”
“That’s easier said than done,” Tyler replied. “He won’t talk to me at all.”
“It’s been a week since the night in the hospital?”
“Nearly two.”
“Text him and tell him you wanted to know how he is. Do it every week until he responds. Either he’ll answer you or he’ll tell you to knock it off after a couple of tries.”
“Or he blocks my number.”
“That’s a possibility, but you’ll have tried.”
Tyler sniffed, shoving the tissues into his pocket. “Right. I should go.”
“Ty, you can come over any time,” Greg assured him. His face hardened slightly, as he frowned. “Well, next time call first.”
“I miss you too, you know. In a different way.”
“I am pretty great,” Greg gave him a confident grin.
Tyler returned a smirk. “You are great. You’re going to make someone very happy one day.”
“We’ll see.” Greg set his tumbler down on the coffee table. “Let me show you out.”
Tyler stepped out of Greg’s apartment building, onto the busy sidewalk. A crisp wind was picking up and the taste of an early snow in the air. He still wasn’t sure where to go, so he started walking. Somehow, he ended up at the last place he expected. The Greasy Spoon.
Chapter Thirty-Six
“You’re here.”
“I needed you to stop texting. This seemed the best way to go about it.”
Dylan pushed past Benjamin into the apartment. There were already boxes being packed. Goliath was perched at the top of his cat tree, cleaning his paws. He stopped, contemplating a greeting, then went back to his bath.
“He missed me,” Dylan quipped before turning back to the man that had opened the door. “You’re were going to just leave?”
Benjamin closed the door, moving toward the kitchen to put the island counter between them. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“Benjamin,” he snapped, “why are you packing?”
“I quit working for your parents. I’m having a hard time finding a job anywhere else with the benefits and pay that they were able to offer. I can’t stay without a paycheck.”
Dylan hummed, following him around the island. He didn’t care about the reasons. It sounded like running away, which was something he knew plenty about. He wasn’t sure what possessed him, other than his impulse control problem. His arms wrapped around Benjamin’s neck. Benjamin leaned into the kiss, surprised before he relaxed. He let Dylan push him into the counter edge.
“I’m sorry I didn’t hear you out,” Dylan spoke after taking a step back. “It would be a shame for the Montgomery’s to lose such a qualified member of their team.”
“Why do you say it like that?”
“I’ve been officially cut off,” Dylan told him. “Per my request. I’m afraid I can’t help you get your job back, but Mora could. She has an in with David after all.”
“Dylan, I can’t work for your parents again.”
“Why not?”
“What if they ask me to tail you again?”
“They might,” he acknowledged. “That’s why even though I just kissed you, I can’t ignore everything that happened.” He bit his lip, putting the island back between them. “I came over to let you give me the explanation you’re so hell-bent on giving me. It isn’t going to matter though.” He looked up at the older man. “Even if I could look past this gigantic breech of trust, I would always wonder how honest you were being with me.”
“If that’s how you feel, why did you kiss me?” Benjamin let out a confused laugh.
“You’re a good at it. I wondered if it would make up for the lying. It didn’t.”
“There isn’t anything I can say or do to make you give me another chance?”
“Benjamin, I never lied to you about anything. I liked hanging out with you. I liked getting to know your cat. If you’d kept your secret after I came back that night, I probably could have shoved my feelings down and been content with you. I would never have been happy. I love someone else and I always have. I was honest about that too.”
“I know. It doesn’t hurt less.”
“I’m sorry if I led you on and created unnecessary drama. It’s what I do,” Dylan confessed. “If you want to stay in New York, then you should contact David and get your job back. If you want to go back to Montana, then do that.”
“My parents could use the help, and...” he shrugged, “I don’t belong here.”
“You can belong anywhere if you put your mind to it.”
“I’m not so sure. I watched you and your friends for a while. I don’t have that kind of connection with anyone here. It’s hard to make friends with a job like that.”
“You have friends in Montana?”
Benjamin shook his head. “No, but I have family. That’s something worth going back for.”
“Promise me one thing,” Dylan requested. “Don’t let yourself get forced into a heteronormative relationship just because Montana is a barren wilderness devoid of anything fabulous.”
Benjamin laughed. “You have a really outdated view of Montana. Our nearest neighbors are lesbian ranchers, you know. There are about six-hundred acres between us, but they’re a nice family.”
“Glad to hear it.” Dylan stepped away from the counter to finally go pet Goliath. “Did Tyler really hit you the other night?”
“Yes. He better stick to being a musician. He has no power to his pu
nch.”
“Good to know.” Dylan reached up, rubbing Goliath’s ears. He cooed at the cat for a few minutes before he finally turned back to Benjamin. “I’m sorry I took advantage of you and your kindness. That wasn’t fair to you.”
“I knew what you were doing and I let you,” he countered. “I’m the only one who has anything to apologize for. I should have told you from the very beginning about my orders. My interpretation may have taken them too far. I would never have used our sexual relationship to try and control you. I hope you know that, and that I enjoyed our time together.”
“I did too.” Dylan pulled away from the cat. “Good luck back in Montana.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Let me know when you get settled.”
“You’ll answer my texts this time?”
“Yes,” he confirmed. “I’ll be requiring regular updates on this guy too.” He nodded toward Goliath. “Weekly pictures.”
Benjamin chuckled. “You’ll turn him into a diva if I have to shove a camera in his face that often.”
“He deserves the attention. He’s quite regal. You may have to start an Instagram for him.”
“Does this mean you no longer believe he’s a mutant?”
“He can be a mutant and regal,” Dylan argued. He gave him a soft smile. “I better go. It’s been a long day. I’ve been avoiding people lately. I need to be a better friend.”
“Thanks for coming over.” Benjamin offered him a hand. Dylan stared at it for a moment before pushing it aside. He wrapped his arms around his shoulders in a brief hug.
“If you get to Montana and it’s awful, you can always come back. By then, maybe it won’t be so awkward to put you on my own payroll, like I suggested to you before.”
“I’ll keep that option in my back pocket,” Benjamin confirmed. “Have a good rest of your night.”
“You too.” Dylan pressed a kiss to his cheek before stepping toward the door again. “Talk to you later.”
Dylan made his way back to his car. He hadn’t been driving often, so he figured it was time to take the new ride out of the garage. He contemplated where he wanted to go next. He was starving. The compression of angst, built up since the night in the hospital, meant that he hadn’t been eating, except what Harriet set out for him around lunchtime. He contemplated what he was closest too, and realized that for as long as he’d been back in the city, he still hadn’t gone to his favorite diner. He started up the engine of the Honda to make the drive uptown to the Greasy Spoon.