So Weeps the Willow - 11. Discovery - Chapter 1

Discovery – Chapter 1

Ben Miller banged the side of the computer, not to get the Outlook program working, but to punish it for letting another one of his goddamned ex’s emails through. He’d blocked Romer’s various pleas for at least a month now. He’d even stopped the teenager’s as well. Didn’t matter. Romer somehow managed to cheat the blocking software and Clay was too much of a child of the Internet for Ben’s efforts to do much good. The teen, Clay, routinely sent emails that drove him bonkers. He was horrible, well, not really. Infuriating.

Ben stroked the moustache he’d grown. He hated it, but knowing Rush would hate it more made it a ‘win’. Anything that drove the former Bureau of Criminal Apprehension, BCA agent, crazy, felt better. Ben vibrated thinking of Minnesota’s state version of the FBI as the ultimate problem, but it wasn’t just that. Rush was the problem, the idiot, and thinking of him eased the pain. It was a vindication of sorts. Romer chose Clay over him. He made his fucking bed. Lie. Down. In. it.

The woman in the cubicle across from Ben made a squawking noise, causing him to wince. Madeline was a slim, wiry, dark haired vixen who was now gesticulating wildly, yacking on a phone call. His earpieces blessedly kept her noises from him. No doubt, Madeline was upset at the most recent man in her life. She was pathetic, yet didn’t know it. She considered herself the perfect catch, and if a man didn’t treat her accordingly, he was dead to her.

Madeline had been a painful object lesson to him.

That didn’t change how cheated he felt and how—

The phone rang.

“Ben Miller, Assistant District Attorney’s office,” he said, quickly answering the phone after only one ring.

Ben listened to the requests made, jotted down a few notes, and then replied as was socially appropriate. He hung up and quickly accessed first one database, then another. He did this without thinking. Updating the court docket was the next stop on his list of tasks to perform.

Yet there in a second screen were those messages; calling to him. They weren’t going away. He never should have checked his personal account at work. It only poked at him, and drew him in.

The emails notices were still in bold, meaning they were unopened and therefore unread. One re: line read, Ben, we need to talk and the other said, Please, I beg you, call him. Ben tried to ignore them, quickly and efficiently performing his work, those routine requested tasks. However, it was beginning to eat at him like drain cleaner on a clump of hair. The words weren’t what got to him. It was the fact the two idiots wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. He told them he was done. His ex had made his choice. He chose the teen. Not him.

Ben wiped a bit of moisture from his cheek. His left eye had sprung a leak. His right was threatening the same. Why was he such a fucking dupe? Why did he let them affect, or fucking infect him, like this? God, it was infuriating. So much so, he couldn’t stop it.

He clicked on the email from a Uhrs.Morre@yahoo.com. It was Rush, mixing up his name to both bypass the blocks, yet give him a hint at who was sending the missive. Quickly, Ben started to read it.

“Ben,

Please, don’t stop reading. I didn’t choose Clay over you. I love you. I need you. I’m sorry I made a promise to him despite what you said. I am in hell right now. You have to believe me. You know me. I did what was right and it was not…”

The paralegal deleted the email. His finger was about to delete the other email as well. He moved his mouse preparing to perform a right click, select delete, and yet he paused.

“Do you wanna go for lunch? I’m absolutely starving,” Madeline said from the opening to his cube. “Last night I worked my ass off. I had a sensible dinner of veggies and some poached fish. Today I need sushi. Are you in?”

Ben’s finger slipped as he turned. “I brought something with me. Sorry. Maybe next time.”

“Are you sure? That new Japanese place looks A-May-Zing!”

“Next time, I swear,” Ben said, smiling at her.

The woman’s long straight dark hair swung as she shook her head. “Okay, I’m going to hold you to that.” A red talon wagged at him; the fingernail sparkled in the fluorescent lighting.

“Later,” Ben called as she disappeared. “Fuck’n scary bitch,” he mumbled under his breath. Ben looked back at the computer and the other email had opened. He started reading and couldn’t tear his eyes away.

“Ben,

I fucked up. I ruined Rush’s life. I’ve ruined your life. I’m done. I’m a fuck up. Leave it to me to find a dad who cares about me and I screw it all up. He’s miserable. I can’t watch it any longer. All he does is mope around, talk about you, and act like he doesn’t care. I’m not as stupid as you think I am.

I know you don’t trust me. Fine, I get that. I do believe Rush is good and cares for me, AS A SON!!!! He doesn’t love me like he does you. Believe me, he’s as annoying as shit pretending he’s all ‘I don’t need the little bitch’ and then sneaks off to email you his pathetic little notes. I read it a few minutes ago. Christ, what a ridiculous email.

I’ll prove I read it. He wrote, “I didn’t choose Clay over you. I love you. I need you. I’m sorry I made a promise to him despite what you said. I am in hell right now. You have to believe me.”

What a loser! You two are clearly made for each other. You are so proud you can ignore him. He is so proud he fakes he doesn’t care about you, and writes notes like this. What a couple of morons.

So, here’s the deal. I’m leaving on the next bus. My bio dad moved to south Florida. I’m hopping on a bus and going to stay with him. He’s a loser too, like you guys, but at least he’s a boring straight loser and not a pair of queer drama queens like the pair of goddamned idiots you people are. Fuck, I may actually grow a pair of balls if I live with a drunk like my dad and not a couple of fainting pansies like the both of you.

So, fuck off, Ben. I hope you are as miserable as you’re making Rush. Like I said, I can’t think of two people who love being depressed apart more than being happy together. I’m outta here.

Say goodbye, Gracie.

Clay

P.S. Yeah he makes me watch those awful old movies with him. Yuck.

Ben tried to get the two messages, so different from one another, out of his head. Clay’s was straight forward, brusque and to the point. He and Rush were idiots for not talking it out. Rush’s email was so, well, as Clay put it, pathetic. Rush sounded like he was desperate. Clay sounded almost pissed, like he was disgusted by two grown men who refused to resolve their issues.

Ben decided to listen to a podcast on his phone and eat his lunch. Hopefully the distraction would empty his mind of his former lover’s presence, still lurking in the shadows of his mind. He had to get Rush out of his system, somehow.

He pulled his tightly wrapped sandwich out of the mini-fridge under his desk. Unwrapping it carefully, he plugged in his ear buds and found an episode he’d been saving. It was by a historian who had written and narrated twenty-minute essays on new findings in different subjects. This one was highly recommended, talking about the history of Edgar Allan Poe’s published works including a short explanation of the book of poetry, Tamerlane. There were discussions of the impact of Poe’s work. It was a fascinating subject.

Ben started listening and bit into the sandwich. It was honey roasted turkey with cranberry relish on focaccia bread with a thin layer of horseradish cream and a slice of spicy pepper jack cheese. The tangy, sweet of the relish brought a flood of memories into his head.

Rush had given him this relish. He’d spent some time with the Wisconsin version of the BCA and brought back this condiment. When Ben had been making dinner one night at Rush’s house, he saw the jar and commented on it. Rush told him to take it home. The detective laughed and remarked he’d never use it.

It was delicious. Ben remembered that night. Rush had been especially cagy, which was odd. Ever since the Barbed Wire Heart mystery had been solved and Rush had been fired from the BCA, he had been more relaxed and contented. Nothing seemed to bother him much. This was BEFORE Clay during the short window when they had been so happy; Ben couldn’t stop the feeling of warmth from the memory. It was an ideal time, and it seemed to poison all his thoughts with its sappy sweetness.

Rush asked him to move in. Ben had refused, of course, they’d only been dating a few weeks at that point. Rush seemed so disappointed from Ben’s response. His demeanor became despondent and restive at the same time. Ben realized he had to make him understand. Finally, Ben had grabbed Rush’s arm and pulled him down next to him. He needed to explain. Ben remembered as Rush had laid his head on Ben’s shoulder, he could feel the dampness of the man’s tears through the thin cloth of his shirt.

“We need more time. I need more time. I’m not very impetuous, Rush. I’m a careful person who can’t jump into a long-term commitment. I’m sorry, but you know me.”

Rush didn’t answer at first. It was surprising the big, tough cop had such a soft side. “I miss you when you go home.” That was all the answer the former detective gave in his smallest, most humble voice.

Ben could still feel how his heart broke over that simple declaration. He lifted Rush’s face by his chin and looked into his eyes, deeply, seeing the hurt, the pain glinting from them. He’d said, “Don’t worry. We’ll get there. Of that, I have no doubt.” Then Ben kissed Rush. At first his lips didn’t respond, and then a flicker of lust seemed to arc between them. It had been a pretty amazing night.

Ben had been wrong. They didn’t ‘get there’ as he predicted. Their trip to Boy River had been only a few weeks later. Rush had made a promise to Clay and that changed everything. Ben was so jealous. He felt betrayed, even though it was a completely different kind of relationship. Rush was like Clay’s mentor or father or something. Yet, part of Ben felt left out. It seemed like, fuck it, like Rush had picked someone over him.

Which was crazy, and now thinking about it, Ben felt the creeping flush of shame come over him. Rush and Ben had been boyfriends. Clay wasn’t a threat to that. Clay’s disgusted tone began to pierce his thoughts. Without thinking, Ben turned off the podcast he’d ignored from the first sentence and opened up the emails again. He read Clay’s again, and shook his head, angry with himself.

Then he read Rush’s all the way through this time. The ending was especially poignant.

“…and we can grow together, love together, and share our lives, like we are supposed to. I’m sorry I messed it all up, but please, reconsider and pick me. I want to be the last one you ever pick for your side. I love you Ben and I always will.”

The last one he’d ever pick.

God, that hit Ben so hard he had to remember to breath. What had he done?

***

Ben stood at the apartment door and waited to knock. He was summoning his courage, but also repressing the embarrassment of his stupidity and obstinacy. Just as he lifted his fist, the door opened. The face, quite young and with a smattering of pimples, first recoiled, then smiled. It was Clay and he looked surprised.

“You came!” he shouted, jumping up and down. Given how tall he was the gangly teen’s motion looked comical. Ben snorted with amusement.

“Is Rush home?”

“If he wasn’t, I’d get him here in a flash. Rush, your pig-headed boy toy is here!” Clay called back over his shoulder.

Ben stopped laughing and turned red. “I’m hardly his boy—“

“Oh my God, you came,” Rush bellowed, running down the entryway to the door. Clay barely stepped out of the way before the man picked up Ben and swirled him in the hallway. “You came, finally. You’re here.”

Ben smacked Rush’s back as the bear hug pressed the air from his lungs. “Yes, I’m here, now put me down. You’re hurting me.” But he was laughing and happy. Feeling Rush’s arms around him had been like an elixir, an instant medicine that eased his feeling of shame and apprehension.

“Come in,” Rush said, leaning over.

They kissed and behind them they heard Clay say, “Get a room already.”

***

For a moment after opening his eyes, Ben thought the previous night had been a dream. The popcorn ceiling was just like his at home. He moved a leg, and the twisted sheet around it told a different story. Looking over at the pillow next to him, he saw the indent and breathing in, he took in the scent of the man he loved. The one he’d picked at last, the last one he’d ever pick.

There were rustlings and a water faucet turned on briefly, and then off. A door opened and from within, Rush emerged, his mischievous, smug grin plastered across his face. Ben knew he was smiling in the same way. Last night was like they’d never been apart.

“Are you ready for some breakfast? I’ve got a batch of waffles and some bacon on my mind. How does that sound?”

“Yeah, and coffee,” Ben answered. After sighing, he turned on his side, “Rush?”

“Huh?” Rush responded, sitting down next to him. Tracing his lips, he leaned over and kissed Ben softly.

“Thanks for last night.”

“Thank you. When I heard Clay call out, I felt like I won the lottery. I was afraid I’d lost you forever.”

Ben kissed the other man’s hand. “I was an idiot. I’m glad Clay wrote what he did. He was right.”

“What?” Rush asked, leaning away. “Clay wrote you?”

Nodding, Ben said, “Clay sent an email yesterday too. It came right after yours. He said he was moving to Florida to his dad.”

Rush shook his head and grunted disapprovingly. “Not on my watch he isn’t. That’s not why you--?”

“No,” Ben answered quickly. “Of course not. I hope Clay doesn’t think that’s the reason.”

“Knock, knock!” they heard at the door. It opened. “I hope you’re decent because I don’t like looking at old saggy dudes in the buff.”

“Come in,” Rush said, tiredly. The teen bounced in and grinned at them.

“Say, Rush, I need some new headphones, some noise cancelling ones. Mine don’t block enough of the moaning and yelling.”

“Shut up,” Rush said, rubbing his face. He sneaked a smirk at Ben though.

Clay laughed and sat on the foot of the bed. “Do we get breakfast this morning? I’m starving.”

“In a minute,“ Rush said. “First, did you tell Ben you were leaving for your dad’s?”

“I may have offered that option,” Clay said solemnly. “I was sick of hearing you whine about how much you missed him. It was sad.”

“You’re not leaving,” Rush ordered, wagging a finger in the teen’s direction. “Your therapy is going well. You’re making friends in school. You have wrestling.”

“I don’t want you to leave, Clay.” Ben said, and he sounded resigned.

Clay and Rush both looked at him in surprise. They both clearly didn’t expect him to participate in this discussion.

“Clay, this is your home. I hope Rush and me can make it work, but I’m not here because you said you’re moving.” Ben sat up and folded his arms across his chest, showing resolve. “Your email was a wakeup call to me. However, this is your home and I want to be in your life as well as Rush’s if you’ll let me.” How long had that offer sat there in his mind, waiting to be said? It sounded right as he said it. Ben wanted this, whatever it was.

“Really?” Clay asked, brightening considerable more. He was bouncing on the edge of the bed now. The teen practically bristled with energy. “I really like you, Ben. I felt bad that you didn’t seem to like me much.”

“I’ve always liked you,” Ben answered. “I finally pulled my head outta my ass and discovered I want to be part of your lives, both of you.”

The teen didn’t blink.

“Good. Now, let’s get some breakfast ‘cause I’m meeting Jeff at the gym in forty-five and I’m starving.” Clay jumped off the edge of the bed, and raced out of the room in a flash. Rush sighed, and leaned over for another kiss.

“I think you better make breakfast and get that boy off to the gym,” Ben said. “Maybe we can have our own post-prandial workout with him gone.”

Rush was up and tugging on sweatpants. After pulling a t-shirt over his head, Rush said, “No need for a shower yet. Your toothbrush is still where you left it. Bacon will be ready in ten minutes.”

Ben laid back as Rush walked out the door with purpose.

***

After breakfast, Clay left in his friend’s car and Rush sat back taking another drink of his coffee. “What are your plans today?”

“It’s Saturday, so I don’t have anything except some shopping and laundry. How about you?”

“I need to check my messages and my email. Otherwise, I don’t have any jobs right now.”

Ben lifted his juice glass and asked, “How is the agency going?”

“It’s fine. I’m mostly serving papers on people. I have a few skip traces here and there, finding people who want to be missing. There has only been one shadow job, otherwise it’s spotty work.”

“Are you doing okay, you know, financially?”

“Boy, you don’t waste time,” Rush chuckled. “You come back last night and already this morning you’re busting my balls about work.”

“You know that’s not what I mean.” Ben drank the rest of his OJ and set down the empty glass. “This detective agency job was kind of a joint effort, you know, before. I hope it’s working for you.”

“Actually, I’m doing quite well. I have three law firms using me for some pretty easy, but lucrative stuff. It’s not sexy, interesting work. It’s finding people who don’t want to be found and serving papers to people who don’t want to be served. I had hoped to get some more exciting detective work, but I should have known better. Even exciting detective work is mostly boring. When you tail a subject, most of it is sitting in your car watching a door that stays closed or people picking up their dry cleaning. It’s not exactly like the movies.”

Ben mused for a moment. “I feel like I talked you into this. Maybe a corporate job would have been better for you.”

“Naw,“ Rush said, scratching his chest. “I get to set my hours around Clay’s schedule. I can work when I want and it does pay the bills.”

“That’s good, “ Ben said. “I mean, I’m glad it’s working out.”

“Yeah, now about that exercise regimen you mentioned,” Rush said, leaning forward and placing his chin on his hand. “Wanna work off some breakfast?”

Ben did. But first, he went to the bathroom. After finding a scissors, he clipped off the facial hair. That accomplished, he lathered up, and used a disposable razor from a drawer. He shaved off the last shadow of his moustache. In a way, he was removing something far more important. Ben realized with his last swipe, he was presenting his naked face, vulnerable and bald, to the world, and to Rush. Especially to the quirky man who he happened to dream of every night.

As Ben shaved, he heard Clay’s radio play. At first it was just words, sounds and a lovely melody. Then, something more leaked into him, invading his head.

“Police are reporting an accident near the uptown area of Minneapolis. A male victim has been found dead of carbon monoxide poisoning. Officials report this is an ongoing investigation.”

Ben continued to shave the whiskers from his upper lip. Who died now? He snorted and shook his head. It wouldn’t affect him, God willing.

***

Text messages harvested by law enforcement officials. The identifying information was redacted pending a criminal investigation and released for civil discovery purposes. The following exchange between two phones, and has been translated into full sentences for research purposes. Such information will be released following an official report and/or charges and prosecution of any crimes or infractions which may have been committed.

10:13 pm: Are you doing okay?

10:17 pm: I’m fine, why?

11:19 pm: Do you feel bad about it?

11:21 pm: What are you talking about?

11:31 pm: I worry about you. He was a good guy.

11:34 pm: He was just someone to hang out with.

11:37 pm: You really cared for him. His death has affected you deeply. That’s okay.

12:02 am: No, it didn’t.

12:13 am: At one time, he was someone I loved. That changed. He was just somebody I knew. After what he did, he deserves it. What makes you think it really matters?

12:18 am: He was special. He was, special, to you. Can’t you admit it?

12:23 am: He was, um, what you said. Am I sorry he’s dead? Of course. He didn’t deserve to…it makes me sad. It fucking kills me.

12:33 am: He meant something to you. I could see it when I watched you interact. The guy mattered, regardless of what happened.

12:35 am: You only say that because he’s connected to you.

12:37 am: Connected? What does that mean?

12:39 am: Fuck you. Fuck you, you goddamned piece of shit. I can’t take this anymore. I know what happened. Fucking-A. 1:47 am: I know what you did.

6:53 am: I’m not going to say anything to anyone else. Obviously, no one would ever think you had anything to do with his death. Let’s just say, I’m not going to ‘rock the boat’, but consider this. If cops start thinking things are odd or if there are questions, I’m going to talk to you again. I won’t be part of this. You did it, and I know it. So, fuck you. Remember that.

7:52 am: Be cool.