Page 117 of Something Like Forever

“If you have any otherquestions, you can call me,” Dr. Staples said.

Tim nodded numbly.Marcello had done most of the talking, but he thanked the doctorfor her help, scheduled another appointment at the front desk, andwas led outside. Marcello’s hand remained on Tim’s back to guidehim. As soon as they were on the sidewalk, the hand moved up to hisshoulder and was joined by another, the grip firm as Tim faced theman.

“Youwon’t fight this alone,” Marcello said, gaze intent. “No expenseshall be spared! Whatever you need, you shall have. You’re my bestfriend. I won’t lose you!”

“You’remy best friend too,” Tim said, chin trembling. Then he was pulledinto an embrace, the shoulder he cried against soft. The worst wasyet to come. As much as he was freaking out, what he really dreadedwas having to tell Ben.

* * * * *

The house was dark whenBen arrived home. He set down his things, switching on lights untilhe noticed a candle burning on the patio. Funny how fire could beeither romantic or ruinous, depending on the amount. A little wenta long way, because he loved when they would leave the lights offand snuggle up in a cozy setting together. The patio was one suchplace, especially lately, with the memory of the wedding still sorecent.

Ben turned off the lightsagain and went outside. Tim was seated in one of the deck chairs. Abottle of wine sat on the small table next to him, an unused glassawaiting Ben. Near this were three bottles of beer, all but one ofthem open already.

“Sorry,” Tim said,twisting around to look at him. “I got a head start.”

Ben hesitated. No smile.That was unusual. “Is everything okay?”

“Have adrink with me,” Tim said, taking the bottle to pour a glass. “Sitdown. Tell me how rehearsals went.”

Ben noticed it was hisfavorite wine. Of the reds, at least. He ignored the empty chair,plopping down on Tim’s lap instead. This earned him a smile andhelped put him at ease. He was still worried, but if Tim hadsomething he needed to say, he would in his own time. “I like thenew play. It’s a sung-through!”

Tim chuckled. “Awhat?”

“Thatmeans it’s all singing. No dialog. I’m not sure about some of thepeople Brian cast, since one definitely doesn’t have vocaltraining, but— Oh!” He was handed a glass of wine. “Cheers,baby!”

“Cheers,” Tim said,clinking his bottle against Ben’s glass. A swig finished it off, sothe third bottle was opened. “Keep going. I love listening to youtalk.”

“I’m probably hurting yourlegs,” he said, starting to rise.

Tim grabbed his arm.“You’re fine. Keep going. Please.”

That gave Ben pause, butit hadn’t been long since Chinchilla’s death. The wedding and tripto Tokyo made it seem more distant than it actually was. Now theyhad time to pause and reflect again. Deciding that’s why Tim wasfeeling down, Ben talked more about his night, focusing on thefunny parts to make him laugh. Ben’s glass was soon empty. “Tell meabout your day,” he said, watching Tim carefully tilt the bottle topour him a refill.

“I sawthe doctor this morning,” Tim said.

“Really? Did you have anappointment? I must have forgotten.”

“Youdidn’t,” Tim said. “And it was more like a procedure. And a seriesof doctors.”

Ben stood. “What? Are youokay?”

“Ididn’t want you to worry,” Tim said, shaking his head. “I stoppedrunning when we were in Tokyo because it was hard to breathe, andwhile I was there, I had Corey take me to the hospitalso—”

“Tim!” Benpleaded.

Silver eyes met his, anapology reflected in them. “I have cancer, Benjamin.”

“No,”Ben said firmly, as if this was something irresponsible that hecould talk his spouse out of doing, like drinking too much or skydiving. “Who told you? Some doctor in Japan? You probably didn’teven understand them right!”

Tim rose and seemedcompletely lost. His bottom lip was trapped beneath his teeth, hishands came up and fell to his sides again. Then he spun away, tearsin his eyes, and Ben knew it was serious. Tim didn’t cry. Not if hecould help it. Ben moved toward him and placed a palm on Tim’sback. This caused him to whip around and clutch Ben with so muchdesperation that it hurt, but the pain was nothing compared to thefear filling his stomach.

“What kind of cancer? Howserious?”

Tim let go, forcing aneutral expression. “I’m going to be okay. I’ll fight.”

“You said it had somethingto do with your breathing. Lung cancer?”

Tim nodded. “There’s atumor in my lower right lobe.”