Who You Are to Me - 2. Chapter 2

I waved goodbye to my secretary as the elevator doors closed. On the ride down to the parking garage I let my mind skim over the events of the past several months. The morning after that disastrous discovery I’d called my boss and asked for a private meeting. He’d agreed and behind the closed door of his office I told him just enough about my situation for him to recognize my plea for a transfer. DC was the obvious choice, since I spent so much time there anyway, and by the end of the week I was moving into a furnished condo owned by the company I worked for. I’d been given the use of a company car, causing me to finally give in and sell my own vehicle. Work and obligatory social events kept me busy – and forgetful.

It was only at night that my ghosts haunted me. The ‘what ifs’ and ‘might haves’ tumbled around my head like socks in a dryer until I drifted off to sleep. I knew I loved John, but I hadn’t realized how deep that love went. At first I was angry with myself, accusing my ego of being bruised because my standard of living had gone down a few notches. I knew now that that wasn’t true. Material possessions never meant that much to me. No, it was being with John, hearing his laughter, feeling his touch – that was what I missed. The rest was just window dressing.

Back at the condo – even after all this time I still couldn’t bring myself to call it ‘home’ – I checked my messages, returned emails and fixed a light salad for supper. I’d lost weight since I left Pittsburgh and my appetite had never really returned to its former glory. I was… what did they call it? ‘Pining’. Such a stupid word, but that’s what it was. I was pining after a life – a man – I could no longer have. Some days I didn’t know what kept me going.

The six-month anniversary of my separation from John loomed on the horizon. I’d hoped and prayed for the first few weeks that John would change his mind and call me, telling me he’d thrown out the guy he’d been with that day and that he wanted me back. I’d have done it in a heartbeat. My pride would’ve been forced into my pockets and I would’ve driven – no, crawled back home if he’d asked me to. I kept my cell phone charged and handy all the time. I’d glance at the screen so often people would ask me if I was expecting a call. At first I’d tell them I hoped so. After a couple of weeks however, I’d sigh, shove it back in my pocket and shake my head. John didn’t want me anymore.

As the date approached yet again, I was finding it harder and harder to get to sleep at night. Once again I was watching my cell phone, hoping against hope that it would ring. I had another one with a DC number, but the Pittsburgh one I never got rid of. The bill was paid promptly and completely every month. Sometimes I’d forget to eat, but I never forgot that.

I showered, slipped into a pair of boxers and a t-shirt and popped a sleeping pill into my mouth, washing it down with a sip of water. As I trudged to the bed, I once again checked to make sure the phone was on, fully charged and receiving a clear signal. I set it on edge on the bedside table so I could see it immediately when I woke, slid between the cool sheets and dropped off to sleep.

~*~

Something was nagging at me, teasing me out of my subconscious state into the predawn hours of the morning. As I forced one eye open to check the time I instantly came to full alert. The phone was ringing! I grabbed for it, knocking it over in haste and spent a few precious, panicky seconds trying to locate it in the dark. At last I grabbed it, hit the button and breathlessly answered “John?”

There was a brief pause and then a vaguely familiar voice countered with “Cameron?”

“Who is this? Where’s John?” My sleep-muddled mind couldn’t identify the caller. “Who is this?” I repeated.

“It’s Randolph.” Those two words froze me into immobility. “Cameron, you need to come home.”

My heart began to pound. “Randolph, where’s John? Does he know you’re calling me?”

Another pause and then he replied “No, he doesn’t. He told me not to call.”

“What happened?”

“I can’t explain it now – it’ll take too long. Come home. He needs you.”

I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me. “I’m on my way.” I disconnected, switched on the bedside lamp and scrambled to untangle myself from the bedclothes. John needs me… John needs me… the words repeated over and over in my head like a religious chant.

Twenty minutes later I was speeding down the freeway to Dulles airport. My fear of flying was overridden by my need to get to John as soon as humanly possible. I knew from experience that there would be flights to Pittsburgh even at this early hour and, although Reagan airport was closer, flights from Dulles would be non-stop and take half the time. I felt a moment of panic as I approached the ticket counter, but I immediately squashed it back down. I didn’t have time for childish phobias.

As I waited for my flight to board, I called my office and left a message for my secretary, explaining that there had been a family emergency and I’d had to leave. I told her to reschedule anything I had for today and that I’d call her later on when I knew more. As I hung up a smooth feminine voice announced my flight. I picked up the small carryall I’d brought, powered off the phone and strode to the boarding gate.

An hour and twenty minutes later I emerged into the weak early morning sunlight of Pittsburgh. I drew in a deep lungful of air, smiled briefly and then headed for the rental agency. As I drove the familiar streets I marveled at how nothing – and everything – had changed while I was gone. I then let my thoughts turn inwards to the problem that was waiting for me back home.

Home! I never thought I’d see it again. The beautiful red brick house with its pristine white columns, the wide expanse of carefully manicured lawns. I could picture it as clearly as if I’d only been gone a day. What had happened? Why did Randolph defy John and phone me? For the first time since I left the condo I began to worry. What if John threw me out when I got there? What if his new lover did? What if, in a fit of pique, John fired Randolph for going against his wishes? I would help him find another job, of that I was certain. My boss was always rambling on about the manservant his father had had when he was younger and how you couldn’t hire people like that nowadays. Randolph would suit him fine. He was the personification of a ‘gentleman’s gentleman’.

I turned the last corner and the house came into view. It was one of only three on this street due to the massive size of the lots. Ours – John’s – was, by far, the largest. The street ended in a cul-de-sac and the whole end of it was all John’s property. I drove up the sweeping lane that curved in front of the house, pulled up in front of the steps and parked. It was abruptly so quiet I could hear a faint ticking noise as the motor cooled. A sense of foreboding swept over me and I shivered, suddenly uncertain.

My attention was drawn by the slowly opening front door. I half expected the new ‘me’ to emerge and tell me to get off his property, but it didn’t happen. Instead, Randolph stepped through the gap and motioned to me with his hands. I slid out of the car, grabbed my bag from the back seat and made my way up the steps. “Randolph, what-“ I began but he interrupted me.

“I’ll explain later,” he said, ushering me inside. “Come on.” He took my bag, dropping it just inside the front door and hurried me to the staircase. “He’s in his room,” he said, pushing the small of my back gently. “Go on.”

I balked. “What if he doesn’t want to see me?” I asked. “What if he throws me out – like last time?” My fear and anxiety bubbled to the surface. “Randolph, I couldn’t bear it if he threw me out again.”

“He won’t. Not this time. Hurry.”

I allowed myself to be pushed up the stairs and down the hallway to our – their – room. Randolph moved ahead of me and opened the door, urging me to enter. What I saw stole my breath and made me sick to my stomach, all at once.

John was there alright. At least a pale, fragile shell of his former self was. My beautiful lover was lying in the middle of our bed, the sheets drawn up to his chest, wires and tubes tethering his frail body to earth. I turned to Randolph in agony. “What happened to him?”

“Cancer,” Randolph whispered, his eyes never leaving the form on the bed. “He doesn’t have much time.”

“Did he ask for me? I have to know.”

He hesitated and then shook his head slowly. “He hasn’t said much of anything lately, Cameron,” he replied. “But I knew you’d want to be here.”

I blinked back tears. “Will he know I’m here?”

“I don’t know,” he whispered. “Does it matter?”

Instead of replying I moved to the side of the bed. His thick salt-and-pepper hair was almost completely gone. His broad shoulders now seemed unable to bear any weight at all and the sculpted chest I’d so loved to trace with my fingers after we’d made love was hollow – sunken. Tears rolled down my face. “Oh, John,” I murmured. “What did you do?”

I knew, suddenly, what had really happened all those months ago. John knew he was dying and had driven me away the only way he knew how – by betraying me. Anything else wouldn’t have been enough. If it hadn’t been for Randolph, I wouldn’t have known until it had been announced in the newspapers. John was something of a societal celebrity and his passing would not have gone unobserved.

“He didn’t want you to see him like this,” Randolph said quietly next to my shoulder. “He wanted you to hate him for what he did or, at the very least, to remember him the way he was before.”

I dropped to my knees by the bed, unwilling to disturb him, and took his left hand in my own. “You damn fool,” I whispered. “You stupid, ignorant, lovely fool.” I pressed his fingers against my cheek. “You told me we were in this life together,” I went on. “That doesn’t stop just because your part is shorter than mine.”

He didn’t move. His chest rose and fell slowly. I willed his eyes to open but nothing happened. Climbing to my feet, I spoke to Randolph as I toed off my shoes, my eyes never leaving John’s face. “You can go back downstairs now,” I said. “I’ll call you when…” I swallowed. “I’ll call you, okay?”

Randolph patted my shoulder awkwardly and went out. I waited until I heard the door close and then began stripping off my clothes. Careful not to disturb any of the lines, I lifted the blanket and crawled underneath, cuddling up against his frail body. “It’s okay, my love,” I murmured as I placed kisses on his shoulder. “I’m here now, with you, where I belong.” I gently placed my hand on his chest, wincing as my fingertips trailed over pronounced bone. “You’re not alone anymore.”