By the end of the week Jace had returned to them. He knew who they were and remembered what had happened. He also complained of pain and how loud everything was. Another side effect. They had to whisper when around him, otherwise they sounded like they were shouting.
“I’m sorry about all of this.”
This was the first coherent sentence Jace said to him. Ben wept while covering his face in kisses.
* * * * *
The ducks snapped up the bread greedily, occasionally bickering with each other and trying to steal more than their share. For Ben and Jace this was a game as they tried to ensure that every duck received its fair portion. Sitting cross-legged on the dock, they were benevolent judges, casting torn bread to the meeker ducks in the back and refusing those who behaved too aggressively.
Renting the lakeside cabin had been a gift from Ben’s parents to celebrate Jace’s graduation from six weeks of physical therapy. He was doing great, too. Physically he had made a near full recovery. Occasionally his left hand gave him trouble but it was manageable, although he still tended to tire easily.
Mentally things were a bit harder. He often had short-term memory loss, would forget what he was going to say or what he had been doing. On good days he could laugh about it, but his medical crisis had brought out a new side to Jace. Ben had noticed it during his rehabilitation, how impatient Jace would become, even losing his temper on a few occasions. His usual self-assured calmness was gone.
Noise was still a problem, too. Occasionally he developed a strong sensitivity. Predicting when it would happen was difficult, but when it did he would shut himself in a quiet room and could only be addressed in a whisper.
“I’d like to go back to work again,” Jace said, tossing the last chunk of bread to a duck brave enough to come onto the dock.
“You will eventually.”
“Not if I can’t remember safety procedures, or what drink someone ordered.” Jace frowned. “And not before the other surgeries.”
A MRI had revealed two other aneurysms, not yet ruptured, that would have to be removed. The doctors wanted to give Jace a few months between surgeries to make sure he recovered from each. The plan was sensible, but Ben could understand how it made Jace feel like a ticking time bomb.
“I’m just glad to finally have you home so much,” Ben said, leaning on his arm. “Nearly losing you was a pretty hefty price, but I’m willing to reap the rewards now.”
Jace smiled and pulled him closer. “Maybe I can get a job at one of the check-in counters. Lifting luggage would be good physical therapy and the computer does the rest.”
“Stop talking about work, you jerk! I’m trying to have a romantic moment here.”
Jace laughed. Together they watched the ducks slowly lose interest and swim away.
* * * * *
“Come here.”
Ben looked up from his script. Jace was standing there, his hand held out to him.
“Come to bed with me.”
“We just got up,” Ben said, checking his watch.
“Come.”
Ben took his hand and followed. He understood what this was about. There were only a few days until Jace’s next surgery, and they both had been tense all week. Jace had lost his temper a few times, nothing major, but for him even the slightest bit of anger was a transgression.
“We’re okay,” Ben assured him as he sat on the bed. Samson blinked at them sleepily, before continuing his nap.
“No, we’re not,” Jace said. He wouldn’t let go of Ben’s hand. He pulled him down, wrapping Ben’s arm tightly around himself so they were pressed together.
“What’s going on?” Ben asked. He could feel Jace’s heart thudding against his arm.
“My head hurts,” Jace swallowed back tears. “Just like last time.”
Ben tried to get up but Jace wouldn’t release him.
“Just stay with me,” Jace pleaded. “It was a miracle I made it last time. I’m not going to again.”
“You don’t know that!” Ben pleaded.
“You know the statistics as well as I do.”
Only fifty percent survive an aneurysm. Of those only another fifty percent survive the surgery, and the chances of making a full recovery without complications were even slimmer. Ben had repeated those facts in his head over and over again. He could only imagine how often Jace had.
“Please, I don’t want us to argue, not now, and I don’t want to die in a hospital.”
“Jace.”
“Please do this for me. I love you, Ben.”
Ben held him and kissed him, and told him a hundred times how much he loved him. He didn’t stop, even when Jace’s breath became ragged. He held him until his body ached with discomfort and his stomach grumbled with hunger, long after Jace had stopped breathing. When the last of the light had left the room, Ben took Samson and shut the door behind him.
* * * * *
That the sun still rose the next morning was incredibly unjust. Someone good had died. People still woke up, had breakfast, went to work, and it was wrong. Flower petals still opened in the sun’s early light, and animals still grazed the day away, their minds untroubled. Someone good had died and the world had the audacity to move on.
Ben refused to. He no longer ate, and when he drank it wasn’t to give his body nutrition. He didn’t read, he didn’t watch TV, he didn’t entertain himself. He didn’t work, shower, or clean the house. The only task he allowed himself was making the necessary arrangements for Jace’s body, and even that was quickly taken over by Allison when she discovered the state he was in.
Ben knew he would die of a broken heart long before the funeral. If he didn’t, he would find another way to be with Jace again, no matter how extreme. Ben had never given much thought to the afterlife, but now it was his obsession. If he could get there, they could be reunited.
Three days after Jace’s death, Ben realized he hadn’t fed Samson. Everything had been forgotten in his grief, but the cat’s yowling could no longer be ignored. He wavered uncertainly before opening the can of cat food. What was to become of Samson? Who would take care of him after Ben was gone? Someone would, surely, but what if he was unwanted or mistreated? Jace had loved Samson more than anything and wouldn’t want to see him with strangers. What was Ben going to do, kill the cat before he killed himself?
Samson began meowing desperately as Ben tried to make up his mind. The cat had been aloof and unhappy the last couple of days, but obviously he still wanted to eat. Ben opened the can, his mouth watering at the smell. Hunger hit him hard, causing his stomach to cramp and his head to swim. He scooped the food out onto a plate on the floor before opening the cupboard and grabbing a loaf of white bread.
He shoved a piece into his mouth. The flavor was exquisite. After seventy-two hours of not eating, he thought the spongy slice of bread a meal fit for a king. Ben didn’t think about what he had done until he swallowed. He, like the rest of the world, had decided to go on, and the thought made him cry.
Ben promised himself to never stop hurting, to never let the pain leave him. He would ache inside and out, just as much as he did today, never letting it fade. He would never allow anyone to believe he was okay. Time would never heal his wounds. More than anything, he promised himself he would never love again.
__________
Epilogue:
Austin, 2008