Winter Oranges (33 page)

It seemed Dylan hadn’t heard about either the extended hospital stay or the suspected diagnosis. He called twice to check on Jason and to report that he’d been offered another short-term part on a TV show. Jason was a bit relieved to know that Dylan would be stuck in Hollywood for a while.

Linda Casteel called on the first day of December. Jason’s heart lurched into high gear when he saw her name, hoping she’d have something useful to tell him. He put the phone on speaker so Ben could hear her too.

“I’m afraid I don’t have good news,” she said.

His heart fell. “Let me have it.”

“I haven’t been able to find much of anything. I have birth records for Sarah and Ben, and a death certificate for the mother. I found evidence that their father sold the plantation after the war ended, but the trail goes cold there. I haven’t found documentation of a marriage or a death for any of them.”

“What about Sarah’s fiancé?”

“He was killed in the Battle of Memphis in June 1862. He was listed as unmarried at that time.”

“They must have decided to wait until after the war to get married,” Ben said. “And then he died.”

“Maybe she married somebody else,” Jason said to Ben, but of course it was Linda who answered.

“It’s certainly possible, but I haven’t found anything yet.”

“Is that it, then?” Jason asked. “End of the line?”

“Not at all. Just a stumbling block. I’ll keep looking. I’ll broaden my search a bit. I’ll also keep tracing your lineage until I find an overlap. That’ll help.”

“So there is hope?”

“Absolutely,” she said. “But I have no idea how long it will take. It could be months. Maybe even as much as a couple of years.”

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” Ben said.

Jason disagreed, but as frustrating as it was, his only option was to wait.

The first week of December brought snow and icicles, and classic holiday movies Ben remembered but Jason had never seen. They spent evenings cuddled on the couch, but Jason’s mind was rarely on their on-screen entertainment. Instead, he found himself thinking about the future, dreaming of everything he and Ben could have, if only Ben were free. To this end, Jason spent the first few weeks testing the limits of the globe, despite Ben’s protests. It was the logical first step and therefore a necessary risk, in Jason’s mind at least. Still, he had no desire to end up back in the emergency room so he proceeded with caution. His first step was to begin entering the globe under controlled circumstances. He’d set the alarm on his phone before allowing himself to fall asleep with the globe in his hand.

Five minutes wasn’t long enough. Neither was ten. Fifteen to twenty minutes gave him just enough time to enter and spend a minute or two with Ben before being roused. This, combined with a bit of research, led him to the conclusion that he didn’t enter the globe until he reached stage three of non-REM sleep. Whether or not getting all the way to REM made any difference in the overall process he didn’t know and didn’t dare test, since it would have meant straying a lot closer to the two-hour mark. As it was, one twenty-minute nap a day left him groggy for an hour or two, but didn’t create any significant pain or discomfort upon waking.

Ben didn’t approve. When they were on Jason’s side of the globe, they continued as usual—going for walks, watching TV, and expanding on their “practice”­—but inside the globe, Ben refused to interact with Jason at all. He worried Jason would get distracted and stay too long, and so he’d sit on the couch with one of his blank books and do his best to give Jason the silent treatment.

Jason took it as just one more challenge presented by the globe.

Once he’d determined how long he could stay, he began experimenting with whether he could bring anything out with him. If one were to believe
A Nightmare on Elm Street
, Jason needed only to have Ben in his arms when he awoke to bring him out, but he already knew that didn’t work with Ben. It didn’t take long to prove it didn’t work with anything from the globe, either. No matter what he held in his hands when his alarm went off—whether a piece of Ben’s clothing or one of his books or a handful of pseudo snow—it was never there once he woke up.

Next, he began experimenting with what he could take in. He always appeared in the globe wearing whatever clothes he’d worn falling asleep. Once, he stripped naked in Ben’s cabin—he was a bit disappointed when this wasn’t enough to dissuade Ben from ignoring him—but when his alarm went off, he woke in his bed with all his clothes still on his body. Ben reported that the clothing on his floor had disappeared along with Jason.

Knowing he could take his clothes in, he assumed it’d be easy to take other things as well, but it wasn’t. He tried stashing things in his pockets to no avail. They were always gone once he reached Ben’s cabin. It drove him crazy. It made no sense at all. How could the globe distinguish clothing from any other item? It made absolutely no sense, but being incensed over the irrationality of it made no difference. Nothing he did changed the results. He tried putting a Life Saver in his mouth before he fell asleep, hoping as he did that he didn’t end up choking on it. The Life Saver didn’t make it into the globe, but the candy trick proved beneficial. Ben could smell it, and once he did, he couldn’t stop himself from tasting it too. And unlike the orange juice, the flavor seemed to last, presumably because back in the real world, the Life Saver hadn’t yet dissolved.

That meant Ben kissed him for a long, long time.

“What is that flavor?” he asked when he finally pulled away. “I can’t figure it out.”

Jason was thrilled something as simple as a bit of candy had forced Ben not only to stop ignoring him, but to kiss him too. He was tempted to see how far Ben’s sudden acceptance would take him, but he knew his alarm would be waking him soon. “I think it’s supposed to be pineapple.”

“What other flavors are there?”

“Orange, watermelon, cherry—”

“Cherry!” Ben said, clapping his hands. “Bring me cherry next time!”

It was a request Jason couldn’t refuse.

But the Life Saver did more than end Ben’s glowering disapproval of Jason’s experiments. It proved that the only things he could take in were intangibles, namely tastes and odors. He tried dousing himself with aftershave before his nap a few days later. Not only did the scent travel inside with him, Ben reported it lingered long after Jason had left.

It wasn’t all fun though, and by mid-December, Jason was becoming frustrated with the entire process. Other than learning that Ben liked Life Savers, he had little to show for his many naps. And although the headaches hadn’t returned, he couldn’t shake the suspicion that he was doing some kind of damage by entering the globe so frequently. What if every minute inside weakened a blood vessel in his brain? And what would happen to Ben if Jason died? Nobody else knew he existed. Jason knew Ben’s mental state was as risk, and if he needed any further evidence of this, he needed seek no farther than Ben himself.

Ben had grown more accepting of Jason’s naps. He still didn’t allow more than a kiss or two, for fear Jason would linger too long, but to some extent, he’d even begun anticipating Jason’s visits, wondering what new flavor or scent Jason would bring him, but it came at a cost. Jason couldn’t put his finger on it. Ben put up a good front, laughing and smiling as he had before, but Jason sensed an underlying fragility that was new. He quickly shut Jason down anytime he started to talk about their future. More and more often, Ben asked Jason to take the globe outside so he could wander through the woods. Sometimes he let Jason accompany him. Other times, he insisted on going alone.

A few days before Christmas, Jason took Ben to town to buy a tree, hoping it would cheer him up. He wrapped the globe in bubble wrap and stuck it in a gift bag. He took the added precaution of sticking his Bluetooth earpiece in his ear so he wouldn’t look like he was talking to himself, and they walked side by side through the rows of cut evergreens.

“Tell me about your Christmases,” Jason said. He’d realized after Thanksgiving that his knowledge of
nineteenth-century holidays was sorely lacking. “Did people have Christmas trees back then?”

“Most people did.”

“Including you?”

“Yes. We didn’t have store-bought decorations though.”

“What did you use?”

“Ribbon, string, little pieces of lace. Candles.”

“Wasn’t that a fire hazard?”

“Probably. Sometimes we’d string popcorn, and once we strung berries, but it was a mess.”

“And you had gifts, I assume.”

“Sure, although not as many. My dad usually gave us candy. Toffee and peppermint.”

“They make peppermint Life Savers.”

Ben’s eyes lit up. “Does that mean you’ll bring me peppermint for Christmas?”

“Maybe,” Jason said.

They both knew he meant yes.

Jason woke December twenty-second to find Ben staring out the bedroom window. Normally the sun would have been shining in, washing away the top half of Ben’s image, but not this time. The sky was overcast and gray, and Ben’s expression was equally gloomy.

“Hey,” Jason said gently as he grabbed the globe to wind the music box.

Ben turned, trying to force a smile, but Jason knew it wasn’t sincere. “You’re awake.”

“I am. Is everything okay?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I think you’re lying. Something’s been bothering you lately.”

Ben’s smile fell. “It’s nothing.”

“Why won’t you tell me?”

Ben bit his lip, but his only answer was another question. “Will you take me outside?”

“Anything.”

Jason took the globe out right away, setting it on the veranda steps so Ben could wander through the front lawn. It was too cold to be out in his pajama pants though, so Jason went back inside and got dressed while his coffee brewed. He put on his coat and shoved his cell phone into his pocket—if Ben wanted to walk by himself, Jason would at least be able to check his email and browse the web. When he went back out, he found Ben sitting on the wooden steps of the veranda. Jason sank down next to him, coffee cup in his hands.

“Tell me what’s wrong.” Ben shook his head without meeting his eyes, and Jason set his coffee aside in order to wind the music box. “Talk to me.”

“It’s nothing. I’m just in a bit of a punk right now—”

“I think you mean a ‘funk.’”

Ben sighed, sounding utterly defeated. “A funk, then. And I know I shouldn’t be. These last couple of months have been the greatest days of my life, but I can’t stop thinking . . .” His voice wavered, and he stopped, biting his lip.

“Can’t stop thinking what?”

“It nothing. I’m being selfish.”

“Stop telling me it’s nothing. It’s clearly something.”

Ben took a deep breath—or appeared to, although it reminded Jason of the fact that Ben didn’t actually breathe. “I keep thinking about how unfair this all is, and how you have a life, and you’ve put it on hold for me, but I can’t expect you to do that forever. And someday you’ll get tired of me—”

“I won’t.”

“You will. Don’t you see? You have a job, and I know you deny it, but it’s
you
, Jason. It’s your whole life. You’re so gifted, and deep down, I know you love it. I know you’ll never be happy without acting. And no matter what else happens, whether you go back to acting or not, you’re going to keep on living. You’re going to keep on aging. You’re going to meet somebody else—somebody real—and fall in love and get married, and you’ll grow old with that person and die, and I’ll still be here. Except the best days will be gone. No matter how good they are now, no matter how grateful I am to have them, I’ll never top this. I’ll never get to have anything like this again—”

“Wait. Stop. You’re going way too fast. None of that’s true—”

“It is. Oh God, Jason, don’t you see? I’ve been so happy, and I want to keep being happy, but I’m so afraid—”

Brrrring
.

“Shit!” Jason swore, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket. “Worst timing ever.” And then, seeing the hurt expression on Ben’s face, “I don’t have to answer.”

“Who is it?” Ben asked.

Jason glanced at his phone, and his heart sank. “Dylan.” And he had a feeling he knew why his friend was calling.