Who You Are to Me - 3. Chapter 3

By the time the doctor arrived I was dressed again, seated in the armchair next to the bed. I watched numbly as the tubes were removed and the wires disconnected. When he was done, the doctor laid frail hands on the still chest and pulled the sheet up over his face. If I could’ve moved I would have curled up in a ball and howled. As it was, I had no tears left to shed. Months of perceived betrayal and then the shock of finding out the truth had drained me. I couldn’t cry anymore.

“It’s over, Cameron,” the older man said kindly, resting his hand on my shoulder. “He’s not in pain anymore.” I nodded, my eyes still on the draped figure on the bed. “Come away now, son,” he went on. “You’ve done all you could.”

He pulled me gently to my feet and led me from the room and I let him do it. John wasn’t there anymore, not really. I knew that. In a way his attempt at deceiving me, painful as it was, made this easier to bear. To me, John was gone months ago. Even as I lay beside his thin frame I knew he wasn’t there anymore. If I thought about it, I could force down the painful memory of his rejection, now that I knew what his motives were. It wasn’t me, I thought selfishly. It was never me. I could bring back memories of picnics and cruises and holidays and lovemaking in the moonlight… and it was all true. That last bit was like a bad dream.

I fell asleep on the leather sofa in the study. Randolph woke me some time later to let me know the men from the funeral home had come and gone, and that John’s lawyer had arrived. Once I was done freshening up I could meet him in the drawing room. He had some things to discuss with me.

Instead, I went into the foyer, grabbed my bag and headed up the stairs to the guest room. I showered, brushed my teeth, dressed in clean clothes and went down to reintroduce myself. I’d only met John’s lawyer on one other occasion and although I remembered him I didn’t think he’d be able to say the same.

It turned out that I was wrong. He did remember me, rising from his seat to grip my hand warmly and offer his condolences. Randolph appeared with a tray of coffee and set it down on a low table before discreetly exiting the room. We reminisced for a while, each relating different memories of John, and then he settled down to the task he’d originally come to complete.

John left everything to me. The lawyer confessed that he’d tried to talk him into changing his will after hearing of our breakup, but John would have none of it. His relatives were few and independently wealthy, so he didn’t expect anyone to contest it. A few of the paintings in the house had been left to cousins or sisters, as well as his mother’s jewelry, but everything else had been willed to me. Randolph was to continue working for me, if he so desired, but if he chose not to John had set aside a tidy sum to live off of. He’d thought of everything, apparently. The only thing he hadn’t foreseen was my return to Pittsburgh.

Disclosure of the will so early was unusual, he explained, but since it was so straightforward, and he couldn’t be sure I wouldn’t go back to DC in the morning, he’d wanted to tell me about it right away. He apologized profusely for the timing, stating he thought this way was best. I waved a hand, dismissing the perceived insult. “I don’t imagine it’d have been any easier to wait,” I replied.

There was one thing John hadn’t taken care of, he went on. During his last months when he’d gotten his affairs in order, John had made all the arrangements for his funeral, down to the last detail – except one. He wanted to be buried next to his family, but he’d refused to say what he wanted written for his epitaph. That, the lawyer said, John wanted me to do.

I nodded. “I’ll need to think about it,” I replied.

He stood, shook my hand, offered more condolences and then left. I sat alone in the gathering darkness, my mind numb. John’s decision was a risky one. What if I’d been furious at his infidelity? What if I’d ordered a bitter phrase carved into the monument for all the world to see? As I mulled this over I realized I never would have done that and John knew it. If nothing else, I would’ve told the inscriber to put his name and two dates on it. He trusted me.

Night had descended completely by the time the door to the drawing room opened again. Randolph stepped inside, cleared his throat to announce his presence and then moved to switch on one of the low table lights. I looked up at him as he reached for the tray. “Randolph,” I began slowly. “Please… sit down.” He lowered himself into the chair the lawyer had been using. I studied him for a moment. I’d always thought of him as cold – aloof. His actions today had proved me wrong in more ways than one.

I leaned forward and rested my elbows on my knees. “Thank you for calling me,” I began. “You don’t know how much that means-“ My voice caught in my throat. “How much it means to me,” I managed at last.

“I do know,” he replied quietly. “I know how much you loved each other.” I nodded. “I told him not to do it, you know,” Randolph went on. “I remembered how you were when he brought you home and I… I was afraid it would be too much for you.”

“It very nearly was,” I whispered.

Randolph shook his head. “He didn’t think so. He told me you were so much stronger now – that you’d be able to handle it and move on. I wasn’t as sure.” He hung his head. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” I smiled slightly. “I wasn’t sure, either. There were a couple of times… I didn’t give up, you know. I always thought someday… someday he’d call and tell me to come home.”

“And would you have?”

“In a heartbeat.” I shook my head. “Maybe if he hadn’t been so… strange, that last day… I might’ve given him up completely. Or not.” I sighed and leaned back against the cushions. “I couldn’t stop loving him, no matter what he did.”

Randolph relaxed his posture a little. “He didn’t think you would, really.”

“No?”

“He told me so, one night not long after…” He let his words trail away. After a moment he continued “He said he was having second thoughts.”

I sat upright. “Why didn’t he call me then?”

Randolph shrugged. “Pride, stubbornness… Like I said before, he wanted you to remember him as he was.”

“In the arms of another man.”

He surprised me by chuckling. “That poor boy didn’t know what hit him.”

I smiled back. “Who was he?”

“Just some delivery boy. John arranged it beforehand so he’d be here when you got home.” He sighed. “A stupid idea.”

We fell into a comfortable silence, remembering. Several minutes later I spoke. “He left you money.” Randolph looked up. “You don’t have to work anymore.”

“Where will I live?”

“Here… anywhere, really. You could retire to Aruba if you liked.”

He thought that over. “I have a sister in Arizona.” He met my eyes again. “What about the house? Will you stay?”

I looked around at the polished wood and comfortable furniture. There was a lifetime of memories contained in these walls. Could I sell it? Could I live in it? I didn’t know and said so. “I think, for now, I’ll just close it up for a while. That kind of decision can wait, can’t it?”

He nodded. “Best made another time, when the wounds heal,” he agreed. “When do you have to go back?”

The question brought another to mind – what of the inscription? “Definitely not until after the… service,” I replied. “I still have to contact the funeral home about the epitaph.”

“Do you know what he would’ve wanted?”

I shook my head. I should have known John would have told Randolph about his decision. “I’ll figure it out, though,” I said. “There’s time yet.”

“A little.” He got to his feet. “I’m going to clean this up and then head to bed,” he said, picking up the tray. “Shall I wake you in the morning?”

“Please.” I stood as well. “I have to call my office in the morning – let them know what I’m doing.”

“Good night, then.”

When he was gone, I moved to the far corner of the room where the bar was situated. Grabbing the whiskey and a glass, I returned to my seat to think. Almost half of the liquor was gone by the time I finally fell asleep stretched out on the sofa.

Sunlight flooded the room when I opened my eyes again, to Randolph’s gentle touch. “Good morning,” he said softly. “Would you like some aspirin?”

I shook my head and sat up. “I’m alright,” I said. “Coffee would be good, though.” He nodded and left the room while I pulled out my cell phone – the DC one. I dialed and waited for my secretary to pick up. After a brief outline of events, a minute or so of her offering her sympathies and my expression of gratitude, I asked her to tell my boss I wouldn’t be back for a few days. She assured me everything was well in hand and we said our good-byes.

The next call I made was to the funeral home. The papers the lawyer had left detailed which business was handling all the details and I was soon speaking to the director. “Everything’s been taken care of according to his wishes,” the man explained. “Except…”

“The epitaph,” I interrupted. “I know.”

When I walked out of the drawing room twenty minutes later, Randolph was on his way in, carrying another tray. “Breakfast,” he said simply.

“Join me.”

We headed back to the kitchen and sat at the table there, sharing a meal and more memories. His eyes began to twinkle as he recalled the days after I’d arrived, telling me how John would steal into the guest room in the middle of the night ‘just to make sure I hadn’t run off’. “He was in love with you then,” Randolph said. “Although he wouldn’t admit it for months.”

“He was afraid,” I replied, picking apart a piece of toast. “Afraid of our difference in ages. It never mattered to me.”

He nodded. “He realized that eventually,” he said. “Thirteen years is a pretty big gap.”

“There was no gap,” I said. “Not to me.”

“He figured that out.”

~*~

We stood together by his grave, Randolph and I. The funeral was two days ago and we were about to go our separate ways. Neither one of us knew if we’d see the other again, so we met for one last time near where the man we’d both loved lay at rest.

“You’ll have to let me know how you’re doing from time to time,” I said, staring at the strips of sod that had yet to blend in with the surrounding grass. “Phone or something.”

“I will.” He looked at me. “Don’t be upset if I forget, though.”

I smiled back. “I’ll phone you, then.”

“Do that.”

We stared at the monument for a while, a soft breeze rustling the leaves of a nearby oak and playing with our hair. “He was the best,” I said at last.

“He was.” Randolph nodded. “There will be another, you know. You’re still young.”

I looked up at the clouds sliding across the clear blue sky. “Even if there isn’t,” I replied. “I’ll still consider myself lucky to have had what we did.”

Randolph turned to me and shook my hand. “Take care of yourself,” he said. “I’ll be thinking about you.”

“I’ll be thinking about you, too.” I pulled him in for a hug. “Tell your sister I said to look after you.”

“I will.”

I watched as he strode away to the waiting taxi that was to take him to the airport and Arizona. When he was gone, I looked down at the marble headstone. “I’ll be back,” I promised. “Someday. Maybe not alone – I don’t know yet – but I will be back.” A tear trickled down my cheek. The last one. “I’ll love you forever, John.” I lifted my hand, kissed my fingertips and laid them on the cool stone. “Goodbye, my love.” I turned and made my way back to my rental car.

As I started the engine I smiled at the thought of what he would’ve said about the inscription I’d chosen. He would’ve been pleased, I was positive of that. Randolph had agreed. I looked over to where the marker stood and visualized the words, too far away to actually see: