14,000 Days of Virtue - 1. Chapter 1

Now you’re telling me

You’re not nostalgic.

Then give me another word for it.

You who are so good with words

And at keeping things vague.

~

We’re all unreliable narrators of our lives.

Any truth is, after all, a matter of perspective.

13,211

“There you are,” Arthur said. His eyes lit up as I drew near. Their twinkling never failed to lift my spirits, and I offered a wide smile in return, then took Arthur’s hand and pressed it between my palms.

“Here I am. Sorry for being late.”

“You’re not late.” We left words behind then, continuing our conversation in our usual unspoken way. With a press of his fingers to my palm, a surreptitious slide of his thumb along my knuckles. “You’re the one with a schedule to keep, not me.”

I sank into the chair beside him, and, helplessly, lifted a hand to cup his lightly bearded cheek. “How are you today?”

“You mean what do I remember?”

“No, that’s not--”

“It’s a good day, Sid.” Arthur lifted my fingers from his face and pressed a kiss to my palm. My heart stuttered. Staggering, that such a small gesture could still punch me in the gut.

“I’m glad to hear it,” I replied.

We sat like that until a ruckus at the back of the room pulled us apart. Almost against my will, I glanced over. One of the nurses, Katie, comforted a crying woman, whispering calming words in her ear. I averted my eyes at her distress. No one else bothered to give the scene any attention.

“I was hoping you’d make it in time to see this,” Arthur said. He nodded to the television at the front of the lounge. Several other residents were clustered in the chairs around it, some watching. Some not.

It took me less than three seconds to identify it. “St Elmo’s Fire?” I snorted. “That takes me back.”

“Doesn’t it? There’s a shot or two of fraternity row. They allude it’s Georgetown. Cinematic license, I suppose.”

I nodded. It wasn’t, of course. Georgetown. I recalled those scenes from the movie, and they’d all been shot at our alma mater, the University of Maryland.

“I remember the first time I saw it, our fraternity row. All lit up.”

“You were all lit up, as I recall.”

Arthur laughed deeply, smacking a hand on his thigh. Ran a hand over his bald head. A few other patients looked over at his outburst. Most didn’t. “Not at first. You were the one who got me drunk.”

I pointed at myself, all innocence.

“And I know why,” he said.

“You do now.” He hadn’t then. Hadn’t the faintest clue, I was sure. Arthur had stolen my heart that night with his clean-cut, inside-the-beltway magnetism, ancient sense of humor, and childish love of fun. His innocent touches had turned distinctly less brotherly as the beer flowed that night, which is why I’d kept pushing it into his hand. Youthful selfishness, but I’ve never regretted it.

~~

“Hey. Hey!” Sidney turned toward the voice, walking slowly backward as the other boy jogged up to him. “You headed to the row, man?”

Weren’t they all? First night on campus. No classes until Monday. Who wasn’t headed to the row for a night of revelry? Although Sidney, a freshman, had to make the walk from his quad of highrises, through the hub of campus, and across Route 1 to get there. “Yeah.”

“Me too.” The boy slowed to a walk as he reached Sidney’s side. “I saw you earlier at orientation. You’re in Ellicott, right?”

Sidney nodded. “Eighth floor.”

“Hi, eighth floor. I’m fifth floor. But my friends call me Arthur.”

“Funny,” Sidney said, meaning it.

“And you are?” The boy ducked in front of him, arresting Sidney’s forward progress, then grinned openly. “We can’t be party buddies if I don’t know your real name. Please tell me it isn’t really eighth floor.”

“Sidney.” They’d stopped under a streetlamp. He swallowed at the vision Arthur made in the pale yellow glow and shivered despite the late August heat.

“Hi Sid. Let’s go. I’ll keep an eye on you if you keep an eye on me, okay? Still not sure I can find my way back to the dorm without a map, so I’m counting on you not to leave me stranded. We can use the buddy system to stumble home to bed.”

Throwaway words, Sidney knew. But it would be okay to pretend otherwise, at least until later. “Sure. Just don’t puke on me.”

“You say the sexiest things.” Arthur grabbed his arm as the stoplight turned, and they jogged across the road onto the manicured grass of the row. “You’ve got a deal, eighth floor. Promise I’ll be good.”

~~

“I was good,” Arthur said, chuckling.

“About the drinking, perhaps. I’ll give you that.”

Arthur’s mirth knew no limits. His shoulders shook with silent laughter, and he cocked his head while stroking his beard thoughtfully.

“You look like Sean Connery when you do that,” I said, chin in hand.

“You always say that.”

“Because it’s always true.”

Arthur leaned close, slipping his hand onto my knee. “I was a good boy that night. You didn’t say I couldn’t kiss you.”

In fact, I hadn’t. I’d simply assumed Arthur, who’d mentioned a serious girlfriend at the beginning of the evening, wouldn’t be interested. So much for assumptions.

“You remember?” Arthur’s sly smile flipped my insides, as usual.

“Of course.”

I also remembered, but wouldn’t voice, what came after those kisses: the fear, the denials and the tears. Eyes sharp, Arthur hummed thoughtfully. He reached for me and I reached back. We clasped hands. “Best friend. Love of my life,” Arthur said. “I told you that night that I’d figure it out. Appearances, expectations and family be damned. I promised you I would.”

“Yes, you did,” I whispered.

13,351

“I had a dream last night,” Arthur said.

“About what?” I watched as Arthur skimmed his chess piece across the board, and I smiled behind my hand. “Rook to bishop four? Really?”

Arthur ignored my jab. “Spring break. Senior year.”

“Fort Lauderdale,” I said.

“The night nurse tells me that’s not the place to go anymore.”

I considered my answer. “Times change. I think lots of kids go to Disney these days. Or Mexico.” Arthur’s expression of exaggerated distaste drew a chuckle. “That’s what I hear anyway.” I moved my queen into position. “Check.”

Arthur mock glared. “You’re supposed to let the Alzheimer’s patient win, you know.”

“Nobody told me those rules. Besides, you’d never forgive me if I let you win.” I looked up, surprised to see Arthur’s eyes glistening. “Arthur?”

He made no further moves, simply stared out the mullioned window beside our table. I’d lost him, I thought. But he refocused a moment later. “Tony came on that trip too? And Meredith and Kimmy?”

They had. Jealous suddenly, I didn’t want to admit it. “Yes.”

“But we left them at the hotel the night we stole the milk crates.” He turned, and when our gazes locked, I saw only lucidity.

“Yes,” I said with a laugh “That was all us.”

~~

“What exactly do you plan to do with them?” Sidney eyed the plastic milk crates stacked behind the restaurant. “There’s barely enough room in your car for all of us and the luggage. No way we’ll get them back to Maryland. Can’t we just snatch some from the Burger King down the road from our apartment?”

“Those aren’t blue. And they don’t have a dolphin on them.” Arthur winked. “No worries, gorgeous. I have a plan.”

“Which… you’re going to share with me.”

“Eventually.” Arthur grabbed Sindey’s hand and pulled, guiding them behind the stucco wall that surrounded the dumpster area. “Come here first, though.”

Sidney went. He always went, and it was several minutes before the milk crates got any more attention.

When Arthur finally lifted his head from Sidney’s shoulder and sighed, they snuck to the end of the wall and stole a glance around the corner. Cars passed every few seconds, circling the drive-through. Sidney shook his head. “This is reckless.”

“It’s like you don’t even know me.”

“And if we get caught? There goes your distinguished career in law.”

“Nah. It’s cool,” Arthur assured him. “My dad told me to get ‘all this crap’ out of my system before school ended.”

“Your dad’s a prick.”

Arthur’s half-hearted nod broke Sidney a bit. Until Arthur smiled over his shoulder. “He puts up with your sorry ass, though, and your bullshit English degree.”

True.

Arthur flipped his baseball cap around and hunkered down, ready to spring. “Cover me. I’m going in.”

Sidney snorted. “Oh, okay, Rambo. I got you.”

Arthur tipped forward, laughing softly, then stood, spun and got in Sidney’s space. “Yes you do, Mr. Keane,” he whispered. Then he was gone, sprinting across the blacktop to the back door of the restaurant.

The first crate he tried to snatch stuck like glue to the one beneath it. Another tug brought the whole pile down with a crash, and then Arthur was running toward him, a crate in each hand and one turned upside down on his head. “Coming in hot,” he yelled.

“Fuck.” Sidney turned and dashed back to the car, jumped behind the wheel and gunned the engine. Hysterical laughter bubbled up his throat before Arthur had even hit the back bumper, stopping only to toss his booty into the backseat before diving in beside Sidney.

“Go, Sundance!” He whooped.

It was difficult to drive while blinking through tears of laughter. Arthur kept trying to shush him, but that only made it worse. “Fucking stop,” Arthur said, wheezing. “I’m gonna piss myself.”

Impossible. Sidney only went about two hundred yards before careening into a strip mall and banging into a wheelstop. They collapsed into each other, tipping quickly from chortles into full blown hysterics. He’d never laughed so hard as he had that night.

~~

“I kept my tort law collection in those crates for years,” Arthur said softly.

“I know.” The chessboard sat forgotten. I pushed it aside in order to draw our chairs close.

Arthur reached for my hand. “I wonder what happened to those things.”

I didn’t answer, and he didn’t ask again. Content, we watched November snow fall through the tall windows.

13,498

Katie met me in the hall outside the lounge. “Judge Prescott’s still in bed, Mr. Keane.”

“Bad night?” She’d implied as much with her words and tone. Her nod confirmed it.

“Nightmares,” she said. “The one about you, I think.”

I knew it well, as it had reared its ugly head at least once a month for thirty years or so. More often recently. “I’ll just go to his room then?”

She nodded her permission. I found Arthur curled on his side, not asleep, eyes vacant. He twitched when I laid my hand on his shoulder. “I’m here, Arthur.”

Moisture formed in the corner of Arthur’s eye. A single tear broke free, rolled over the bridge of his nose and down his cheek. “I’m so sorry, Sid.”

His double bed left plenty of room for me. I curled up behind him. Slung an arm over his chest. “No apologies necessary. It was just an argument. Everyone has them.”

“But what I did...”

I hummed into his neck. Told him with touches that it didn’t matter. Not anymore.

“I hurt you,” he persisted.

I wasn’t succeeding in calming him the usual way. Propping myself on my elbow, I pulled him onto his back. Made him meet my eyes. “We hurt each other plenty over the years, Arthur. Yet here I am. Don’t dwell on such things.” We don’t have the time for it, I didn’t say. “Remember our rule about fighting,” I told him instead.

“We should do it naked?”

I swallowed a pang of pain. “That. And never go to bed angry with each other.”

I waited, hopeful, for the light of recognition to ignite in his eyes. Was rewarded a moment later. He pasted on a tentative smile. “We were rather good at making up, weren’t we?” he asked.

It wasn’t rhetorical, so I confirmed his words. “We were.”

“Tell me.”

~~

“Jesus, Sidney. What’s the big deal? It’s one fucking night.”

One night. “The big deal is that it’s been ‘one night’ a dozen times since the start of summer. What’s your dad’s problem with me?”

Voice exasperated and bitter, Arthur replied, “You know.”

Adrift, heartbroken, Sidney waved him off. “Go on then. Have fun at your fancy family dinner.”

Arthur didn’t walk away. “You have every right to be pissed. I’m sorry.”

Not sorry enough to go against his father. Sidney shrugged. “Whatever.” He didn’t say goodbye when Arthur left.

Sidney let the apartment go dark as the sun set. The light from the television was adequate to get him from the living room to the kitchen and back. When the beer ran out, he stretched out on the couch, balled up one of Arthur’s sweatshirts for a pillow, and closed his eyes. Sleep didn’t come. His lungs wouldn’t completely fill.

Arthur returned at midnight. Sober, if his quiet, coordinated entrance was any judge. “I’m back,” he said, standing over the couch. “I know you’re awake.”

“How?” Sidney asked in the dark.

“‘Cause we never go to bed angry with each other.”

Sidney rolled to his back. Opened his eyes. Caught his breath at the picture of Arthur in his suit, resplendent in the flickering light from the tv, though his tie was yanked askew. The despair in his eyes twisted Sidney’s heart. He didn’t want to ask what had put it there. He suspected he knew.

Arthur drew no closer. “I don’t deserve you, Sid.”

Maybe not. It didn’t matter. Sidney held his hand out. “I hate fighting with you. Wanna make up?”

Arthur swallowed twice. Said gruffly, “Yeah.”

“Come on then.” Sidney wiggled his fingers and finally finally drew a deep breath when Arthur’s weight settled on top of him.

~~

The story didn’t have its normal soothing effect. Arthur drew a trembling breath. “I’m such a coward, Sid. What I did that night. It was unforgivable.”

“You mean throwing me off the couch?” I asked.

My ploy worked. Some of the tension drained from Arthur’s body, unlocking the muscles beneath my hand. He barked a laugh. “You fell.”

“I was pushed.”

With a chuckle, Arthur said, “I don’t remember you complaining.”

“I don’t remember that either.”

13,663

“Look here,” Arthur said, waving the book in my face. “Katie gave it to me this morning. Said it just came out today.”

I caught his arm before he hurt himself. Or me. He was still a vigorous man physically and had lost track of how to temper that strength of late. “Yes, it did. I brought you a copy, actually, so you can give that one back to Katie.”

I reached into my satchel to retrieve it. Arthur received it reverently, as he did with every book of mine that I had laid in his hands over the years. “Oh, Sidney.”

The forlorn tone caught me off guard. “What is it?”

“I assume you told me you had a book coming out. But I--” He sagged in his chair. “I forgot.”

“It’s fine, Arthur. We’ve talked about that.”

He didn’t agree or disagree, which I considered a victory of sorts. He stroked the dust jacket for some time, fingers tracing the lines of brush script. “The newest Electric Universe novel. Well done on the cover art. Is it Samuel’s design?”

I would never understand this disease, which could swallow every detail of a person’s most intimate relationship, but left other facts, such as the name of my usual cover artist, unscathed. A quadrillion neural pathways in the brain. A billion ways to lose one’s mind.

“It was Samuel,” I said. “He holds the contract for Electric Universe.”

“Yes, of course,” Arthur whispered. He pulled the frayed tendrils of his dignity around him and pushed straighter in his seat. “Twelfth in the series. Amazing. Ah, Sidney, you should be having a party. Not sitting here with me.” He opened the book. Fanned the pages.

“Don’t want a party,” I said. “Sharing release day with you is the only celebration I need.”

“Not enough fanfare, in my opinion. Do you remember how we commemorated your contract for Fates’ Apprentice?”

“Yes. Well,” I amended, “partly. Had too much to drink to clearly recall the last part. Thanks for that, by the way. I couldn’t look at champagne for five years.”

Arthur hooted.

~~

Sidney lasted five minutes before he rose to pace again. Arthur made no comment, just shook his head and studied the case file laid across his lap. “Try not to give yourself a stroke, Sidney.”

“Thought you were here for moral support.”

Arthur dropped his chin and stared at Sidney over the rims of his glasses. Fond, patient and --to Sidney’s chagrin -- amused. “That statement wasn’t supportive?”

“Glad you find all this funny.”

Arthur sighed and gave up on the case. Set the deposition aside, rose and came to stand behind Sidney at the window. Together, they admired the cityscape. “You’ve already won.” Arthur stepped up behind him and bracketed Sidney in his arms. “Whatever happens with the auction, you’ve won. A publisher wants your book. Hell, three publishers want your book. You’ve arrived. Better, you’ve arrived with a healthy advance.”

“We don’t know that yet.”

“We sorta do,” Arthur said, lips at Sidney’s neck.

Someone knocked, three taps, business-like, and Arthur said, “About time,” and stepped away to answer it. Sidney eyed the rolling table that arrived courtesy of room service, as well as the silver bucket atop it.

“What’s that?”

“Celebratory refreshments.” Arthur examined the label, then twisted the foil off the bottle. “My best friend sold his first book today. This is for him. Because,” he continued, popping the cork and decanting the liquid into two flutes, “he deserves a proper celebration.” He brought the two glasses forward, presenting one to Sidney. “With the person who loves him.”

Emotion closed Sidney’s throat. He nodded. Accepted the champagne. “I feel badly I took you away from court. I know this is the case that will make or break your partnership with the firm.”

“Nothing was keeping me away from you today. This,” Arthur tipped their glasses together, “is the only partnership that matters to me.”

Sidney’s cellular phone rang then. He and Arthur both regarded the shiny Motorola MicroTEC, Sidney with trepidation and Arthur with a smile. “I predict at least one million dollars,” Arthur said.

“You’re insane,” Sidney muttered.

“If I’m right, you help me finish this bottle as well as the two others I ordered.”

“And if you’re wrong?”

“You help me finish this bottle as well as the two others I ordered.”

Sidney’s tension unraveled on a peal of laughter.

“1.1 million,” his agent said when Sidney picked up the call. Arthur pumped a fist in the air, filled the bathroom sink from the icemaker in the hallway and chilled the two additional bottles.

~~

We’d gravitated toward each other during the retelling. Arthur pressed his fingers into my leg. Squeezed them around my knee. “I’m so proud of you, Sid. You have a gift. I’ve always been awed and humbled by it.” He held out the book in a trembling hand. “Will you sign it for me?”

“Of course.” I’d expected the request and pulled a pen from my jacket pocket. “What would you like it to say?”

Shifting forward, he murmured, “I want it to say, ‘To the only man I’ve ever loved.’”

Well, that would be easy enough to pen. If my hand would stop shaking. “I can do that.”

13,719

“Sidney.” Arthur gestured me close. I leaned in. “The nurse called me Judge Prescott,” he said.

“You were a judge. A damn fine one.”

Arthur stroked his chin. “Was I?”

Yesterday, he had recalled the broad strokes that had been his career, if not the details. Some parts of that life were still with him, hidden nuggets of gold in his memory. But I had no idea what this day would bring. He glanced at the ring encircling his left pinkie finger -- platinum gold with inlaid rose quartz -- then at the matching band I wore. “I presided over a wedding once,” he mused. “Didn’t I?”

I would have preferred a discussion on his more famous cases. This particular subject had the potential to veer dangerously, but I nodded. “More than one.”

He snapped his fingers. Pointed at me. “Tony and Kimmy’s.”

I nodded again, smiling. His joy at this simple recollection was infectious.

“They were so beautiful together. How are they?”

I’d mastered my knee-jerk responses over time. When I told him they were well, he believed me. Bringing their bitter divorce into the conversation had the potential to derail Arthur’s mental clarity for the rest of the day, plus I had no desire to relive the drama myself.

“And Meredith,” Arthur said. “I married her as well.”

The phrasing made forcing a smile more difficult, but I managed. “You didn’t preside over Mer’s wedding.”

“But I was there,” Arthur told me firmly. “I do remember that.”

“Yes. We both were.”

“Ha!” He clapped his hands together. “I’m doing so well today. Shall we have a game of chess?”

“Whatever you want,” I said. I pulled the board over from the next table and began placing the pieces. White for Arthur; I always gave him the advantage. Black for myself. “Just go easy on me.”

“Stop humoring the dementia patient, Sid. You could beat me easily these days.”

I waved off his claim. “Not a chance. Your long game is better than ever.”

Arthur made a show of dismissing my words, but I could tell they pleased him. “It always was my keenest skill.”

~~

“Tavern on the Green is pretentious,” Sidney said as he sat.

Arthur gestured the waiter forward. “You can afford pretentious, Sidney. We both can. Enjoy the day. It’s special, after all.”

“Special?” Sidney checked his pocket for his cell phone. Gave the menu a distracted glance. “I only have an hour, by the way.”

“Actually, you have more than that.”

It was the tone -- no-nonsense and a tad angry -- not the words, that had Sidney sitting back. “Are you mad at me?”

“Not really.”

A vague and unconvincing answer. “I’m sorry, Arthur. Things have been insane lately.”

“So much so that you forgot the date.”

Sidney opened his mouth to refute it. Closed it a moment later. “Fuck.”

Arthur laughed under his breath. Accepted a lowball glass from the waiter, twirled the ice ball in its amber liquid, and handed it across the table. “Happy birthday.”

Abashed, Sidney accepted the whisky and tilted his head back. Studied the yellow and white embossed ceiling. “Thank you.” He arched a brow when Arthur pushed a slim white envelope toward him. A perfect match to the pristine tablecloth, it had escaped Sidney’s notice until then. “What’s this?”

“Plane tickets.” Arthur’s drink sloshed precariously when he set it firmly on the table. “We’re taking a vacation.”

“I can’t. The tour--”

“Has been postponed.”

Derailed, Sidney took a sip of his Glenfiddich.

“In fact, your schedule is clear for the next five days. As is mine.”

Really? That was more impressive than retooling an entire book tour. “Your docket?”

“Clear, as I said.”

“And your other commitments?”

“Clear.” Arthur smoothed his tie. An uncharacteristically nervous gesture. He looked to expect more questions, but Sidney denied him. Sipped his drink and waited. Finally, Arthur gave in. “We’re going to St. Croix, you and I. Fishing. Diving. Sailing. Food, drink and revelry.” His loafer-clad foot tapped Sidney’s calf under the table. “You’ve been working much too hard. You deserve this.”

The logistics of shifting the anthill of activity that was Sidney’s upcoming book tour must have taken Arthur weeks or maneuvering, if not longer. “How did you manage all of this?”

“Well.” Arthur stroked his tie again. “Some very old wine. A promise here and there. And prodigious use of the Ben Franklin effect.”

“How long has this been in the works?”

“Does it matter?”

Feeling warm, Sidney let the evasion slide. The whisky was doing its job quite well, as he was sure Arthur had intended. “Why do you keep petting your tie?”

Arthur burst out laughing. And actually blushed. Sidney laughed along until Arthur reached beneath his lapel and extracted a small box from his coat pocket. “Happy birthday, Sid,” he said.

Of all the things Sidney expected to find inside, two matching rings hadn’t been among them. Speechless, heart tripping, he examined the twin platinum bands, inlaid with pale pink stones.

“Rose quartz,” Arthur said gruffly after several seconds of silence. He only continued after Sidney met his gaze. “To remind us of the true essence of love.”

“It won’t be legal,” Sidney whispered.

“Fuck the law.” Arthur plucked the slightly larger ring from the box, slid it onto the pinkie of his left hand. Then did the same for Sidney. “It needs a good fucking every once in a while, if you want my opinion.” He linked their fingers so the rings glittered side by side. “Now go home and pack.”

13,833

“He’s been agitated today, Mr. Keane.”

Agitated. Katie-speak for enthusiastically aroused, and truly, a nurse in a facility such as this should be more accustomed, if not comfortable, with their patients’ occasional hypersexual behavior.

“I’ll see if I can settle him,” I said.

Curious, how her smile straddled thankful and astute -- a talent honed from years of innuendo, though I wasn’t insinuating anything irregular. The staff would look the other way, regardless of how I handled the situation. Money purchased such luxuries.

I’d arrived to find Arthur in such a state before. That first time… remembering it still did funny things to my equilibrium. I wasn’t a man much surprised by human behavior at my age, but Arthur’s whispers and wandering hands had turned my worldly sophistication on its ear that day.

I prepared myself for a repeat performance and wasn’t shocked to find Arthur abed, sheet kicked off, light sheen of sweat across his chest and brow, and obvious arousal thoroughly on display through his thin cotton pajama bottoms.

“Finally,” Arthur said. “I’ve been waiting all morning.”

“So I see.”

“Bastard.” He grasped my fingers and pulled. “Come here. No, first close the door.”

That wouldn’t be happening. But I obeyed the first directive, heart rate quickening. It was useless to tell myself I’d risen above such desires. The scene in front of me, and my reaction to it, proved that. Arthur’s sly grin meant he’d noticed. “Climb on,” he murmured, folding his hands beneath his head and arching his hips.

I chose the bedside chair instead. “You always were a shameless exhibitionist.”

“Bullshit.”

I ducked my head to hide my smile. Arthur would often utter more profanities during these episodes than in the three previous months combined. “It isn’t bullshit.”

“Calling me a cocktease?”

Only ever in my head.

“Close the door, Sid,” Arthur whispered. He patted the mattress next to him.

Helpless to resist, I did. Then, with ironclad control, reclaimed the chair.

Arthur pouted. “Is that how it’s going to be today?”

“Arthur--”

“Then just watch, love. You can do that, can’t you?”

Semantics. Words and their implications. My craft and career. Arthur could make me hate them sometimes.

“Arthur--”

“Please, Sid.” Arthur ran his hands over his chest. “It will feel so much better if you watch.”

Powerless to look away, helpless to deny him, I nodded.

13,912

“Here.” Arthur pointed to the newspaper. “An article on my disability.”

That got my attention. “You’ve never called it that before.”

“Haven’t I? I don’t remember.”

I rolled my eyes.

“They say,” Arthur continued, “loneliness is a risk factor for early onset dementia.”

How on earth “they” could prove such a thing was beyond me, but it made sense. The significance of Arthur’s words caught up to me a moment later. I lifted my eyes from the manuscript I was editing and found him watching me. I had no desire to expand on the conversation, but he clearly wanted me to. My heart stuttered enough to bring on a moment of dizziness. “Have you been lonely, Arthur?”

He leaned toward me, crinkling The Times in his lap. Made sure he had my attention. “Never with you at my side.”

I blew out a breath.

“Though I’ve been jealous of your rabid fans on more than one occasion.”

“Nonsense.”

“No, I’m quite serious. The tabloids like to link you with the pretty boys.”

His tone wavered with… uncertainty. I couldn’t stand it. “Arthur.” I removed the newspaper from his lap and linked our hands. “There’s only ever been you. Just you.”

I predicted his next question, but not the uncharacteristic vehemence in his tone. “Do you swear, Sid?”

I could, with complete honesty. “Yes. I swear.”

14,000

I rarely found him out of bed anymore. This was the typical progression of his disease and raging against it was useless. I was a realist, but that didn’t mean I accepted the situation gracefully. Not even a little bit. I’d demonstrated enough felicitous compliance for two lifetimes.

I clasped Arthur’s hand when he reached out, cheeks blotchy. “We have to go right now,” he said.

I soothed him with gentle touches. “Why?”

“Sidney’s been in an accident.”

It’d been some time since this particular specter had materialized. “I’m fine, Arthur. I’m right here.”

“No. He’s hurt. Very badly. They said so on the phone. I have to go now!” He struggled against my hold.

Katie poked her head in at his outburst. I waved her away. “That was a long time ago, Arthur. I’m fine. I’m right here.”

I winced when his grip tightened. His physical strength hadn’t waned in the slightest these past few years. “I need to see him. Tell him what he means to me.”

I bowed my head. “You did tell me. You already did.”

~~

Sidney didn’t remember the accident. Only the aftermath. Shouting, sirens, overwhelming cold. Later: somber voices, a constant beeping and pervasive thirst. And pain. Pain everywhere.

“I’m here, baby.”

Sidney frowned. Arthur hadn’t called him that in twenty years. Since college. He cracked an eye and light speared in like a lightning bolt. Whimpering, he closed it again.

“There you are.”

Kisses. On his forehead, his cheeks, his fingers. Stop, he thought.

“If you want me to stop, make me.”

It had nothing to do with what Sidney wanted. He beamed that thought to Arthur, to no avail this time. The light, peppering kisses continued. “Come back to me, Sid. Please. You have to. I love you, and I can’t live without you.”

Denying Arthur’s desires had never been his strong suit. “Won’t leave,” Sidney rasped.

“Better fucking not.” Arthur’s voice echoed in his ear. His breath wafted over Sidney’s neck, and his grip on Sidney’s hand was brutal. “Ever. We clear on that, eighth floor?”

“Loud and,” Sidney replied.

~~

Katie had appeared at some point during the retelling, syringe in hand. I imagine she’d heard these confessions before, more than once, and I waved off her quiet apology at the intrusion.

The injection went smoothly. Arthur’s eyes stayed on me the whole time.

“Sorry to have to do that, Mr. Keane. I know you drove all this way.”

“It’s fine, Katie. We can’t have him hurting himself. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Sidney?” Arthur reached to stroke my cheek.

“Share a memory with him,” Katie said quietly at my back. “That always seems to bring him back. When you do it, he always comes back.”

“Because he has magic,” Arthur said, surprising us both. Eyes droopy with medication, he gave me a lopsided smile. “And a talisman.” At his prompting, I linked our pinkies, the platinum bands clinking softly together. “Will you tell me a story, Sid?”

“Always.”

“Good. Good.” He untangled our fingers. Laid his hand across his chest. Closed his eyes. “Do you remember when we stole the milk crates?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me that one.”

14,000

“Oh. Sidney.”

Even after forty years, her voice sent a zing of emotion to my toes. It wasn’t hatred. Not anymore. Nor resentment. Even that poison had metabolized, burned away into a thousand tiny regrets. At one time, the wave of not-hate and not-resentment would have left me exhausted, standing at a crossroads. Stranded in a perverse fight or flight response, even though there hadn’t been much to fight for. Rather, there hadn’t been a battle worth waging that I could win. No, and I’d tried. But drawing blood, even the proverbial kind, was a young man’s sport.

I was not a young man.

At her antipathetic greeting, I paused in the act of donning my jacket, then finished shrugging it on before turning. The drab garment rested comfortably on my frame, tattered at the cuffs, and wrinkled. Not my best look, but the one that Arthur responded to most strongly. “Meredith.” I swept my hair back, freeing it from where it had snagged under the coat’s collar. “He’s sleeping at the moment.”

“Hmm.” Her gaze passed over me with the usual aloofness. Her cream Chanel suit, while impeccably tailored, had a fine layer of white cat hair across the front of the skirt and one nude pump carried a clump of mud on the heel.The sight had my lips quirking, but I said nothing. I wasn’t petty. “Well, I’m merely here to sign some papers,” Meredith said. “I’ll look in on him afterwards. Perhaps he’ll be awake then.”

I strangled the protective urge to tell her to fuck off. She was, after all, Arthur’s wife.

Katie approached from behind the nurse’s station, clipboard in hand, and handed it to Meredith. “Here you are, Mrs. Prescott. Just the usual. These will be good through the month of May.” Her gaze, devoid of its typical carefree lightness, fell to me as Meredith scribbled her signature. I looked away as pity slid across her expression.

Meredith crossed the last T and handed the sheaf of documents back. “Doesn’t it get old, Sidney?” she asked as she opened her purse to drop the gold fountain pen into its depths. “Making this drive every single day? What is it? Three hours roundtrip?”

“Four,” I clarified.

“And for what?” She sighed, the escaping breath deflating her perfect posture. “Does he even recognize you?”

Yes, I thought, then clutched that truth close to my heart.

“Because he only ever sees me as some nice visitor, and has for some two years now.” She sniffed at the admission. I said nothing.

“Mr. Keane makes Judge Prescott laugh, Mrs. Prescott,” Katie offered. I smiled softly at her, and she nodded back. “He makes Judge Prescott smile and laugh quite a lot.”

A balm to hear, though I suspected the admission might bring Meredith’s claws out. It did.

Her cackle juxtaposed harshly with her elegant facade.“Smile? Laugh? Well, forgive me, but that is very difficult to believe. Those are two things Arthur did with frightening irregularity.” She dismissed Katie, and I braced myself. “Four hours,” Meredith continued once the young girl had walked away. “Honestly, where do you find the time?”

“I make the time,” I said.

“But why do you bother?”

“Why do I bother what?”

Meredith raised a limp, diamond-clad hand in the air as if to ward off a stray insect. “I know what happens during these visits. I’m not blind or an idiot, Sid.”

“I’ve never thought you were.”

“No, I know. And to be fair, Arthur didn’t either. Which didn’t stop him from pining for you in plain sight for our entire marriage.”

“It wasn’t in plain sight.”

“It was to me.”

I had nothing to add that wouldn’t be hurtful on all sides.

She sighed. “He talks about you when I visit, you know, as though I’m some stranger off the street. Regales me, you might say. I suspect you encourage that behavior with those stories you tell him. Do you even remember which parts are real and which aren’t after all these years?”

I shrugged, belatedly understanding it was the response she was waiting for.

“Arthur has never been unfaithful to me,” she stated.

She spoke of this fact as if I were ignorant of it.

“Do you deny it?” she asked when I didn’t answer.

“I don’t deny it.” He hadn’t been, because I’d never allowed it. Not once vows had been taken.

“So don’t encourage these fairy tales he’s spinning in his mind,” she whispered. “They never happened.”

“Meredith.” I inhaled deeply, slung my hands into my pockets and rocked back on my heels. “At this stage of the game, if he believes they happened…” I used my thumb to rub the platinum ring on my pinkie, “then they happened.”

“Isn’t that rather self-indulgent of you?”

I nodded. “It is.” Reaching out, I gripped her fingers in mine. She frowned but didn’t pull away. “You and I have managed to coexist as something resembling friends since day one. Why do we have to put that to the side now?”

“You know why.”

I supposed I did. “This makes him happy, Mer.”

Her smile drew tight enough to etch a maze of lines at the corners of her mouth. “But it’s not real.”

“It’s real to him. So why can’t you let him have it? Especially now.” I dared to step forward, squeezed my fingers around hers. “Don’t you love him?”

Of course she answered with her own question. One to which she already knew the answer. I wasn’t sure why she continued to torture herself with it, time and time again. “Do you, still, Sidney? Love him?”

“You know I do.”

She snatched her hand away and clutched it around her purse. “Why? What did he ever give you? Nothing. Your life is a house of cards, built from these stories you whisper in his ear. How can that possibly be healthy?”

I shrugged again. My health was secondary in this regard. I dropped my hand and gave her a cordial nod. “Goodbye, Meredith.”

Slow, even paces carried me to my car, and I didn’t rush to unlock it or climb inside. Unhurried, but with purpose, I started the engine and coasted down the long tree-lined driveway of the facility. I resisted any backward furtive glances to check whether Meredith was watching from the curb of the portico. To do so would be an admission of discomfiture, and I would admit to no such thing.

Whatever niggles of doubt rattled in my brain in the dead of night were absent in the light of day. Especially a day such as this, where the sun blazed round and hot and the saturated blue sky shimmered like a wet oil painting. Days like this birthed possibility, not tragedy. I pulled off at my usual place: the river overlook right before the throughway, and sat, listening to the car’s engine tick.

I fingered the ring on my pinkie wistfully. Tears, just a few this afternoon, rolled across my cheek and into my beard. I didn’t bother to brush them away, and they left a slight tickle in their wake.

Tomorrow, I would remind Arthur about our trip to St. Croix. How we’d overindulged on rum punch on the boat to Buck Island, and how, after that, we’d sat on the sand by the water when the rest of the tourists had taken shelter from the usual afternoon storm. I’d remind him how we watched the dolphins breaching in the turquoise water. And how I’d kissed him over and over again in the rain.

***