Something Like Winter (52 page)

“
I’m sorry.” Ben stood
before him, not bothering to sit. This would be a short visit. “I
wish we could just be friends.”

“
No, you don’t.” Tim
managed a brave smile. “That’s the problem, isn’t it?”

“
Yeah.”

Tim took a deep breath.
“You think we would have made it? Say we never had the cops chasing
us that night, that we kept on going. Do you think we’d still be
together?”

Ben thought about it, maybe
considering the possibilities that could have been, but instead of
answering he swallowed and said, “I have to go.”

Desperation stole over Tim.
He wouldn’t be able to breathe if Ben walked away. “I don’t know
what I’ll do without you, Benjamin. I don’t have anything
left.”

“
That’s not true. You have
plenty.”

“
Did I tell you that I came
out to my parents?”

“
No.”

“
Yeah. They weren’t
thrilled. If they were distant before—” Tim shook his
head.

“
They’ll get over it. And
if they don’t, then they can fuck themselves.”

Tim smiled at this
resurgence of Ben’s teenage attitude. That’s probably what he would
have said if Tim had come out way back then. His parents would have
flipped out, and Tim would have come sulking to Ben, only for him
to say those very words.
They can fuck
themselves.
Then their relationship would
have continued, no worse for the wear. If only Tim could have
understood that back then.

“
Don’t go back to Ryan,”
Ben said. “You don’t need him. Or me. Or anyone else, for that
matter.”

Tim shook his head. “I’ve
always needed you.”

“
You might want us, but you
don’t need us. You said I bring out the best in you, but all those
wonderful things were already there, even before I came along. Live
for yourself, Tim. Decorate the house with your paintings. Don’t
hide them away. Don’t hide yourself away, either. There’s a whole
world out there waiting to see you. The real you.” Ben fumbled with
his car keys, already turning to leave, but first his eyes poured
over Tim with sorrow. “You’re so beautiful, and I don’t just mean
your face or your body.”

“
Don’t go,” Tim
pleaded.

Ben shook his head and
walked away, slowly. Tim could leap to his feet, could spin him
around and kiss him and tell him he had to stay. And maybe Ben
would for the night, or maybe even a day or two. But eventually he
would remember Jace, and his heart would break with what he had
done. So Tim remained seated and watched Ben open his car door,
pausing with his hand on the doorframe.

“
Until next time?” Ben
said.

Tim laughed, wiping away
the tears in his eyes. “Until next time.”

__________

Part Five:

Austin, 2008

__________

Chapter
Thirty-three

So much of attraction
depended on balance. Not too skinny, not too fat. Not too young,
not too old. Everyone had a different definition of the porridge
that was
juuust
right.
Tim was currently trying to
find the perfect balance of scent. Cologne should be strong enough
to be noticed, but not strong enough to make the eyes water. How
many sprays was that exactly? Two? Three?

The balancing game
continued. Stylishly messy hair sounded easy, but was found only in
a narrow range between careless and completely crazy. And of course
the old battle between overdressed and too casual waged on. Tim had
opted for a dress shirt to go with his jeans before deciding this
was trying too hard. Anything could happen when his guest arrived.
Of course if the news was bad, all of this was
superficial.

Giving up on his
appearance, Tim walked through the house, Chinchilla following
dutifully behind as he inspected everything. Kitchen counters
cleared? Check. Scented candles in the living room lit? Check. Big
fat guy sipping champagne on the couch? Check.… God damn it! Not
now!

“
What are you doing here?”
Tim demanded.

“
I keep showing up,”
Marcello said, “and you keep asking why. Thus our dance goes
on.”

“
Seriously,” Tim said,
wiping a ring of condensation off the coffee table. “This isn’t the
best time.”

Marcello’s crow’s feet
crinkled. “I haven’t seen you this nervous in quite some time. He
must be quite the looker. What’s the lucky guy’s name?”

“
Allison,” Tim
huffed.

Marcello stuck out his
bottom lip and shrugged. “Always try new things, I
suppose.”

“
It’s not a date. You
remember Allison. You met her at that grill party a few years
ago.”

“
Grill party?”

“
Yeah. Afterwards you said
you’d been to children’s birthday parties with more
debauchery.”

“
It’s true!” Marcello
chuckled. “I remember now. She’s the pretty black woman who sang
with Ben. Why is she coming over?”

“
I wish I knew. She called
me yesterday and said she wanted to talk in person.”

“
Probably needs money,”
Marcello said, pantomiming a yawn.

“
I don’t think so.” Tim
felt his pulse pick up. “I bet it has something to do with Ben.
Anyway, I need you out of here. Go on! You can take the bottle with
you.”

“
There’s something I wanted
to talk to you about,” Marcello said. “I’ll make it quick. You know
we have the gallery opening in two weeks.”

It had taken ages to find
an available downtown spot with all the right elements. Location,
parking, lighting, wall space—and most of all—price. Finally, Tim
had found someone sympathetic to their cause. The Eric Conroy
Foundation would have its gallery, but it wasn’t opening as soon as
Marcello thought.

“
Four weeks,” Tim
corrected.

“
Ah, but the space will be
ready in two, and it would be a shame to let it go to waste just
because that Belgium artist is on holiday.”

Tim checked his watch
pointedly.

Marcello continued
unabashed. “You’re supposed to point out that we have nothing to
exhibit. Well, I was thinking that painting you did of Eric would
be a perfect piece to hang in the gallery.”

Tim stared at him. “It’s in
my bedroom.”

“
It doesn’t have to
be.”

“
No, I mean, how the hell
did you see that painting? Do you snoop around my bedroom when I’m
not home?”

“
What else am I supposed to
do with my free time?” Marcello said. “You have a gift, Tim. Eric
raved about your talent, and the few paintings you’ve allowed me to
see left me thoroughly impressed.”

Tim’s face flushed.
“Thanks, but I’m still changing the locks on the doors.”

“
I’ll find an open window,”
Marcello assured him. “Anyway, instead of boring empty walls, why
not exhibit your best paintings? You’ve worked hard for the
foundation. Treat yourself.”

“
It’s a little
self-indulgent,” Tim said.

“
You’ve worked hard,”
Marcello repeated. “And it would make Eric proud.”

And Ben, if he ever found
out. “I’ll think about it. Now get out of here, you old
windbag.”

“
Old?” Marcello said as if
offended, but he smiled and took his leave.

Tim was watching Marcello
drive away when Allison arrived. Her hair style might be different
and her clothes more respectable, but the expressive eyes and wide
smile made her instantly recognizable. She sized him up on her way
up the walk, nodding in approval.

“
You look good!”

“
Thanks.” Tim grinned. “You
too.”

“
No, I mean really good!
Last time you were so frumpy and scruffy.”

“
Thanks,” Tim said a little
more firmly. “I’ve been working out. Uh, come on in.”

He led her to the living
room, desperate to confront her in the hallway and demand to know
if Ben was all right. Once seated, she mercifully turned down the
offer of a drink, and Tim could hold back no longer.

“
How is he?”

Allison did one of those
slow, bobbing nods, like she wasn’t quite sure of the right answer.
“He’s fine.” Then she sighed. “Can’t we do small talk
first?”

“
You’re killing me,” Tim
said, taking a seat himself.

“
Okay.” Allison took a deep
breath. “Jace passed away.”

“
What? How?”

“
Aneurysm.” Suddenly
Allison looked much older. “We had a bad scare but they caught it
in time. He made it through one surgery and things were looking
hopeful—” She shook her head, unable to continue.

Tim’s stomach sank. “I’m
sorry. Ben must be in terrible shape.”

“
He’s doing better,”
Allison said. “It’s been a couple of years now.”

“
Since Jace
died?”

Allison nodded.

Tim felt dizzy trying to
consider all the implications. “Why didn’t you tell me
sooner?”

“
I didn’t want you to…
Never mind, it’s not important.”

“
What? Say it.”

Allison looked at him
squarely. “I didn’t want you to think it was
convenient.”

“
It’s not convenient.” Tim
felt his temper rising. “When it happens to you, when someone you
love is suddenly taken away, it’s never convenient. When Eric
died—” Tim shook his head. “Part of you dies along with them.
That’s what it feels like.”

“
Sorry,” Allison said. “I
didn’t mean it like that.”

Tim sighed. “It’s okay. I’m
not upset at you. I just hate thinking of what Ben must have gone
through—is still going through.”

“
He’s doing better.”
Allison bit her lower lip before continuing. “These days when you
mention Jace, he smiles. I think he’s over the grieving as much as
anyone can be. But he’s lonely. I know he is. All he does is
work.”

Tim could
relate.

“
He never goes out or talks
about meeting anyone.” Allison raised her eyes. “Except you.
Sometimes he still talks about you.”

“
I’m here,” Tim said
without hesitation. “If he needs a shoulder to cry on, I’m always
here.”

“
He’s done enough crying
for a lifetime,” Allison said. “Do you still love him? I mean
really
really
love
him.”

Tim didn’t hesitate. “More
than anyone in my entire life.”

Allison nodded. “Then maybe
you should get me that drink. We have a lot to discuss.”

* * * * *

The Eric Conroy Gallery,
located on Second Street, was the ideal space for exhibiting art.
Long narrow rooms—barely more than hallways—lined three sides of a
big space perfect for sculpture or installations. The previous
tenant had used the biggest room to sell designer shoes and the
narrow rooms for inventory. The layout would have been a nightmare
for most other retail stores. Tim had discovered the location after
the shoe store went bust, but the rent was too expensive, so he
turned it down. After half a year on the market, the owner called,
eager for Tim to take the property at a reduced price.

With weeks of renovation
complete, the former shoe store had been transformed into the
perfect blank canvas. Neutral white walls and track lighting
guaranteed the art would pop. They even pulled up the cheap
carpeting and brought the wooden floors underneath back to life.
Tim had worked alongside the contractors, leaving nothing to
chance.

So when Marcello suggested
not letting that extra week or two go to waste, Tim would have
agreed simply to show the public how beautiful the gallery turned
out, even if his paintings weren’t on display. But Allison thought
it had romantic potential.

Romantic!
What a cheesy, stupid word. Tim scarcely believed
romance could be part of his life again. As opening day neared, he
began to have serious doubts. Not about his own feelings. He wanted
to see Ben again more than anything. But he was scared of what
losing a spouse could do to a person. Maybe Ben would look right
through him, thinking only of Jace.

Tim was willing to risk it
one more time. Hell, he’d try a million more times, if that’s what
it took. He worked hard at making his first exhibition the right
place for them to meet again. He was opening his life to the world,
so he didn’t choose just his best work. He chose paintings from
every stage of his life, even childhood. This meant putting some
very humble pieces on display. Somehow this felt more honest and
less pompous.

Tim managed most aspects of
the Eric Conroy Foundation now, but publicity for the gallery
opening he left to Marcello and his expertise. Aside from begging
him not to use shirtless cocktail waiters, Tim had complete faith
in his abilities.

The big night came all too
soon. The gallery preparations were enough to occupy his time, but
Tim had also been busy finishing a new painting. He barely
completed it in time to hand over to Allison. Now it was all up to
her, because Tim found himself waiting in a near-empty gallery as
the sun began to set. Opening night. What would people think? Would
they sneer at his art, turn up their noses and walk away? Even
worse, what if they laughed at his efforts? Or didn’t show
up?