by Con Riley
Ben’s youngest brother had been a teen—a beautiful teen—when Theo and Ben first got together, and he had managed to part Theo from his cash so many times it became a family joke. Seeing his face—the image of his brother’s, as if Ben were still in his early thirties—on his PC screen the week before had only increased Theo’s determination to do the right thing by them all. Maggie needing to know where her baby was sealed the deal.
He’d been thinking about it pretty much constantly for the last week. Theo even wrote about it on the forum. Someone had started a thread about difficult family relationships. It seemed to be a perennial subject, perhaps made more compelling to members as the holidays approached. Theo could dig it. He’d struggled for years with trying to get through holidays without family tension. For the first few years, they had spent each Christmas morning with his parents. Ben was very supportive, understanding completely that Theo was the only child, so still the center of his parent’s orbit.
Theo couldn’t bear it. His dad always tried his best to keep the conversation going, but his mother couldn’t seem to move on from quiet watchfulness when it came to Ben, who overcompensated wildly. Theo felt that his mother had never known his Ben. She set him on edge, then he reinforced her impressions that he wasn’t suitable for her son.
They went away for the holidays after their third year together, and had done so every year since. He mentioned his experience in general terms on the forum, leaving out chunks of detail, only summarizing that sometimes you just had to cut your losses and concentrate on the people who accept who and what you love. His phone chimed the next morning while he was at work.
MORGAN: Who were you talking about?
THEO: My parents.
MORGAN: I’m sorry. Do they still feel the same way about your sexuality?
THEO: That wasn’t the issue. My mother never really accepted my partner. She was civil, but that was it. She never got to know him at all.
MORGAN: How is she now that he’s gone?
Theo was in a meeting. He stared fiercely at the PowerPoint presentation about management strategy which bordered on incomprehensible, his eyes blurring. He switched his cell phone off until he got back to the privacy of his office.
MORGAN: Ignore me. I’m too nosy.
THEO: That’s okay. I think she regrets the way she was. I don’t know. I’m pretty sure she does. I’ll never be able to forget, though. I wish I could.
Theo found himself wondering, yet again, how old Morgan was. They hadn’t shared any “real life” information that made them overly identifiable. That was just common sense on the Internet, especially as theirs was a local board, devoted to members from Seattle. They didn’t know where each other worked, or lived, or even what they looked like. All they had to go on were the opinions that they shared. You could build up a pretty good mental image from that information alone, Theo figured.
When Morgan offered advice regarding Theo’s mother, he guessed that he must be around the same age as Theo. He’d had that feeling many times before. The man had lived.
MORGAN: We all do stupid shit sometimes—shit that’s hard to back away from without losing face. Sometimes you keep doing the same things, over and over and over, knowing that they’re unhealthy and might even harm you, or harm your relationships.
MORGAN: Sometimes you end up believing things have to stay the same way, even if they hurt people that you care for.
Theo sat in his empty office, nodding. Yes, Morgan understood.
MORGAN: If she’s trying to express regret, maybe you should let her do that. It might help you both.
THEO: Yeah, I guess.
MORGAN: I know what’s best for you. Just accept it, Theo.
He thought about their conversation as he drove home from Maggie’s and then settled into bed, even though it was only just past 9 p.m. Taking a deep breath, Theo called his mother.
“Theo, darling! How are you? How is your back feeling? Are you managing at work?” He held the phone away from his ear.
“I’m good, Mom.” He listened while she filled him in on everything she and his dad had done since last seeing him. Then he listened to her describe a complete stranger’s recent hernia repair, and some plans that had been drawn up to build a resort on the other side of the lake. When she was done, Theo started to tell her what he intended to do. “Mom, I want you to listen, then think for a while and talk to Dad.” The silence at the other end of the line was almost as deafening as her initial greeting.
“Theo, are you all right?” Her voice wavered slightly. Sometimes his mother sounded positively elderly.
“I’m fine, Mom. I’m planning a trip. I wanted to give you some notice, that’s all.”
“Oh, I can easily water your plants, Theo. Don’t you usually get a neighbor to do that for you? You and Ben were always going away….” Her voice faded. It was true; he and Ben had regularly gone out of town.
“I don’t want you to water the plants, Mom.” He paused, drawing in a huge breath. “I’m taking Ben home. It’s time. I can’t make his mother wait any longer. I’d like it very much if you both came with me.”
“Oh, Theo.”
“Just think about it, Mom.” Theo closed his eyes, picturing Marco’s face on his PC screen as they Skyped the week before, whispering, wincing, reluctant to hurt Theo with his words. He only said what Theo already knew. His mamma needed her Ben home. She’d rest easier knowing where her firstborn was.
Theo understood.
“I don’t need to think about it, Theo. Of course we’ll come.”
He huffed, exhaling hugely, shakily. “Thanks, Mom.”
“Thank you for asking us. I’m not sure what I’ve done to deserve inclusion in your plans, but it’s the least I can do.”
Lying in the darkness, Theo guessed it was.
Chapter 11
LOOKING back, Theo found it difficult to pinpoint exactly when the rhythm of his days changed. It wasn’t that the passing weeks were particularly challenging or memorable. No, once the interns settled into their roles, workdays fell into a comfortable routine of meetings, appraisals, and charting just how far behind his department’s output was falling. Theo decided not to worry about that; the Head Office could figure out the reason for themselves. Instead he took the time to enjoy the somewhat voyeuristic pleasure of watching his interns play down their attraction to each other.
They made him smile every single day.
He was at the gym, focusing on his form with the casual assistance of another member who stepped in from time to time to spot him, when Theo decided things were getting easier.
Yeah, easier.
It wasn’t only the easing of his back pain that made getting through the days feel less of a battle, although he did feel so much better, thanks to Morgan’s interference. Sick of listening to Theo moan about his aches and pains, Morgan searched the Internet until he found a Seattle-based sports-injury specialist. He didn’t stop virtually harassing Theo until he scheduled an appointment.
All it took was one assessment of his decades-old injury for the specialist to prescribe a simple course of treatment.
MORGAN: So all you have to do is learn to stand differently?
THEO: Yes. Sorta.
MORGAN: How the hell HAVE you been standing?
THEO: The wrong way, apparently.
THEO: Thank you for finding him.
THEO: And for making me go.
MORGAN: Do you feel better?
THEO: So, so, so much better, thanks.
MORGAN: You know what I’m thinking right now.
THEO: Sigh.
MORGAN: Say it, Theo.
THEO: You know what’s best for me.
MORGAN: That’s right.
Yeah, life felt a little easier, and just a touch more stable, as if the emotional ground he stood upon had finally stopped tilting wildly. Getting through each day used to exhaust him, or would fool him into thinking that he was coping, until the moment he leaned forgetfully against his
door buzzer. Now he felt more at peace. He still woke from time to time, reaching for Ben, but just as often he rolled over, nudging his laptop awake, and started his morning with Morgan instead.
At the gym he took a turn spotting a huge guy who would have given Peter a run for his money, and counted reps while he thought about how different the last few weeks had been, even at the gym. For some reason, he didn’t find the greetings and attempts at conversation difficult to handle anymore; in fact, he wondered why he ever had. What was so bad about exchanging the time of day with people? It wasn’t exactly taxing to act like a normal human being.
Maybe, he considered, he’d been making life more difficult for himself, not less, by avoiding human contact.
Initially he needed to be alone; he saw that now very clearly. He’d been wiped out by a wave of loss that swept his feet out from under him and carried him, gasping and nearly drowning, into water so deep he thought he’d never make it back to dry land. Sometimes he hadn’t wanted to. Sinking seemed so much easier. All those blank-memory weekends without the structure of work to cling to had left him exhausted and barely treading water. The last weekend had been so different that Theo still felt dazed.
He blamed Morgan. The man was like a dog with a fucking bone when he decided to pursue a subject. Usually Theo enjoyed seeing him bite into a concept on their online forum. There was something almost thrilling about reading his words once he decided that he was right and the rest of the world was wrong. The way his mind worked was fascinating.
Theo sometimes wondered what gave his cyber-friend the confidence to take on all comers the way he did. The dude was absolutely fearless. He was persistent too. Once he discovered that Theo hadn’t socialized with old friends since losing Ben, Morgan wouldn’t stop arguing, debating, quarreling, and finally persuading until Theo gave up fighting.
MORGAN: E-mail is one thing, Theo, but face-to-face is where it’s at.
THEO: Maybe.
MORGAN: What’s the worst that can happen?
What was the worst that could happen, Theo found himself wondering. He guessed that seeing his and Ben’s old friends—still in relationships, still happy—would reinforce the fact that he was alone.
MORGAN: If you’re thinking they’ll just make you feel worse, you’re a fool.
MORGAN: A damn fool.
MORGAN: I can hear you thinking, Theo. You should quit that shit. You’re really not very good at it.
THEO: Stop bullying me.
MORGAN: It’s what I’m best at.
Theo didn’t believe that for a single second. No way was Morgan any different in real life than he was online. He’d learned through his long year of Internet observation that people revealed their inner selves soon enough. The only characteristics that Morgan had consistently revealed were his passionate advocacy for the underdog and his huge capacity for kindness. Morgan frequently waded into the middle of debates, often regarding subjects he had zero interest in, just to help out some poor newbie on the forum. He’d hide his assistance behind a barrage of sarcasm or ironic commentary, but all the same, he wouldn’t let the big kids bully the newbies, unless they persisted in stupidity.
He told Theo often that it wasn’t opposing viewpoints that offended him; it was the way some people refused to learn.
MORGAN: I know they’re wrong. You know they’re wrong. But until they’ve had a chance to get educated, I’m not going to hold it against them. Tease and taunt them? Fuck yes. Hold it against them? Nope.
THEO: Are you on drugs?
MORGAN: I’m high on life.
He was high on something all right. Before he’d had what he described to Theo as his time in the wilderness—that too-quiet period when he broke up with his boyfriend—Morgan’s commentary, on the forum at least, could seem scathing. Somehow he’d come back with a more relaxed view on life.
THEO: I’ll have some of whatever you’re on.
MORGAN: No fucking way.
THEO: A real friend would share their stash.
MORGAN: No, Theo, a real friend would e-mail you every single fucking week for a year, even while you acted like a reclusive dipshit.
Sometimes Theo regretted telling Morgan things. He never forgot a word. After Theo shared how bittersweet it was to make contact again with some people in his old friendship group, Morgan had questioned him relentlessly.
MORGAN: How come you’re so friendly to complete strangers on the Internet, but ignore your real friends?
THEO: That’s not what happened.
MORGAN: Oh, sorry, I must have misunderstood. I thought you said that they all tried to keep in touch. Some of them kept coming to your house, didn’t they?
THEO: Yes, but…. It wasn’t them; it was me.
MORGAN: Don’t ever say that, Theo. That’s as bad as, “We’re on a break.” Everyone knows those two sentences are lies. They’re always lies. Always.
THEO: It was me. I couldn’t cope.
MORGAN: Well you can cope now, so get busy.
THEO: There are times that I hate you—you and your pesky logic.
MORGAN: There are times I picture you naked. We all have our crosses to bear.
THEO: You picture me naked?
MORGAN: What can I say? I’ve always had a thing for overweight, hairless men with prosthetic limbs and an eye patch.
ON SATURDAY, Theo found himself standing opposite the coffee shop where he’d agreed to meet his friends. His feet were rooted to the ground, unable to take the next step after he saw his old friend Robyn’s red hair from all the way across the street. He had known this wouldn’t be easy, but as that wave momentarily threatened to overwhelm him again, he briefly cursed Morgan as a meddler and himself a fool for listening to him. It was funny how life played out. Robyn had been a relative newcomer to their circle of Seattle friends. His acceptance into the group had come about slowly—something which Theo felt a little badly about.
He had known Robyn’s partner, Chris, for nearly ten years. Theo remembered reaching for the last copy of a book at the same time as Chris in a local store, where they spent the next five minutes trying to make each other take it while the other refused. Eventually Theo paid for the book, wrote his home phone number on the flyleaf, then dropped it into Chris’s bag of purchases. Ben picked up Chris’s call later and invited him to watch a game, understanding instinctively that Theo would only give out their number to someone interesting. Chris arrived with his partner, an attractive French-Canadian called Yves. They became friends quickly, sharing a love of eating out and endless conversation.
Chris used to tease Theo relentlessly about the way his eyes would lose focus whenever Yves spoke. It was true. There was something about his accent that made Theo melt. Ben would pretend to lose his temper, thickening his own accent until it was 90 percent husky Milanese and 10 percent pure sex. They had some amazing fucks after evenings spent with Theo staring dreamily at Yves while Ben smoldered.
Yeah, it had all been fun until Yves got so sick. He wasn’t the first of their group to pass away. Ben and Theo had lost friends in San Francisco who were much older, as well as one of Ben’s Italian childhood friends. Theo guessed that it wasn’t so much Yves’s death that divided the group, but the way Chris seemed to hook up so quickly with Robyn afterward. Yves had been gone for just a few months, after seven years with Chris, when Robyn took his place. That’s how it seemed to the remaining friends, anyway. Ben was philosophical about the awkward and uncomfortable situation.
“It’s not for us to judge, baby. Chris has suffered, no? Let him have his pleasure. Surely he must have had many days where pleasure seemed impossible. Yves took a long time to die—too long. It is right that Chris celebrates life for a while. I’m happy for him.”
Maybe that was the difference between sudden loss and protracted illness. Theo talked it through with Robyn and Chris while they shared a couch toward the back of the busy, noise-filled coffee shop. They welcomed him back into their lives with open arms. Theo had apologized imme
diately. Not for avoiding them for so long—that was something he hadn’t been able to help—but for being a little on the slow side to accept Robyn as Chris’s new partner.
Robyn’s face reddened before he reached over for Theo’s hand, saying he’d already forgotten about that time. He and Chris had been together for three years now. He understood that it must have been a difficult adjustment for the others at first, but Ben had always made him feel very welcome.
“That’s because you don’t have a French accent, babe,” Chris said with a laugh, and Robyn pretended to slap him upside the head.
“I may sound American, but even if I’d come crashing into your group of friends with a perfect Parisian accent, I know some people still would have left me out of things.” He smiled somewhat sadly before continuing. “I get it. I always got it. I just didn’t let that stop me from being there for Chris. When it’s right, it’s right.”
“Is it right for you yet, Theo?” Chris asked, his face creased with sympathy. Theo shook his head, then shrugged.
“No, I…. No, it’s not right yet. I met someone, but….” A little girl ran past, chased by her sister, both wearing dresses of periwinkle blue, reminding Theo of Peter’s intense eyes. “I met someone, but I’m not there yet. I’m not ready. I think my body is, but my head’s still not in the game.”
“I hear you,” Chris agreed with him. “My head was in the game long before my body. But that was probably because I had so long to loosen my grip on Yves before he left. I’d made mental space—I had to—after all those months of going home alone while he was in hospital, then at the hospice. It was the mental company I missed so badly. You know, simple conversations about the news, or what was for dinner, or even someone to tell me when I was being a maudlin dick.”
Robyn nodded. “I’m a world-class maudlin-dickery spotter.”
They all smiled.
“I guess I have all the mental stimulation I can handle right now.” Theo told them about the changes at the office, the interns, and Morgan. Maybe he spoke about Morgan a little too much.