When Love Takes Over Ch. 05

"I'm so sorry. So sorry."

I started crying on the phone. "I don't know what to do...Ruby's gone...I'm alone...I don't know what to do" I continued sobbing.

"Shhh," he whispered. "It will be okay in the end, I promise. You'll get through this. You always do. You're the strongest person I know."

"Not this time."

"Yes, this time. I promise," he said. And after all that had happened, I still believed him.

"I'll be there tomorrow as soon as I can," he said and paused. "If that's okay with you."

"You don't have to."

"I want to. It's the least I can do. I want to help you and," again a pause, "he's the closest thing to a father I have."

I hadn't thought of that. HIs father had died when he was an infant, and his mother, if not quite disowning Reed when she learned he was gay, made it quite clear that she had no real interest in pursuing a relationship with a "deviant" son. So when my dad and stepmother, if not exactly overjoyed with a gay son and a yankee "son-in-law," were at least polite and hospitable when we visited for holidays and special occasions, he had been touched.

My father, in fact, had come to like Reed quite a bit, and Ruby never failed to inquire how my "friend" was doing whenever we talked on the phone.

"That would be nice," I said. And I almost meant it.

"Is there anything you need. Anything you want me to bring you?" I almost automatically said "No." But there was something I wanted, something I regretted leaving behind, though it hurt to admit it. My pride was almost too strong, but after witnessing how fragile life really was, I decided, for once in my life to tell pride to go fuck itself.

"Yes, actually there is. I..." I couldn't quite say it.

"Okay," he said. "What?" The silence stretched.

"You know the picture I kept on my night stand. Please bring me that." God, that was hard.

"Of course. I know which one you mean." He voice was thick with emotion. "Brandon...I'm so sorry. So.."

"I've got to go. I'll see you tomorrow."

Needless to say, I didn't sleep that night.

It was another endless day sitting at the hospital. Dad had, over the past couple of weeks, had a steady stream of visitors, but not today. Today, it was just me, Dad who kept drifting in and out of consciousness, and lots of bad basic cable. Nothing to keep me from thinking about losing Dad and Reed and wondering what I had done to piss off the gods. I felt terrible for worrying, even just a little bit, about something as unimportant as my ex when my father was dying. I was also conscious that I looked like complete shit.

I had quit shaving...with a long commute to and from the hospital to the farm, the last thing I wanted to do was worry about shaving. The same for cutting my hair, already in desperate need of a haircut when I left New Orleans, it was out of control. Between the beard and the hair hanging down in my eyes, I looked like I was getting ready to audition for the traveling musical version of fucking Duck Dynasty.

Plus, a couple of weeks of convenience food and hospital snacks meant that my small spare tire was becoming a massive inner tube. Oh well, at least I still have my sparkling personality, I thought sourly. I had gotten a text from Reed letting me know he was close, so I was on edge waiting for him, trying to determine how to approach him: gracious? haughty? angry? coldly polite? Of course all my plans went out the window.

The minute the door opened and I heard his tentative "Brandon?" I had launched myself across the room and into his arms, sobbing hysterically on his shoulder. He managed to put down the orchid and the small bag he was carrying and then wrapped me into his arms, whispering calm words into my ears until I had cried myself out. Eventually, I came to, and stepped back, frantically searching for tissue to wipe my eyes (and snotty nose).

"I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't mean to do that."

"There's nothing to be sorry for."

After repairing as much of the ravages of crying as I could with a box of off brand tissue, I managed to actually look at Reed. Well, that's good I thought. At least I'm not the only one who looks like shit.

Of course, Reed's version of looking like shit meant he had lost weight, not gained it, and the resulting hollows under his cheekbones meant he looked even more like a model. Still, his clothing hung distressingly off his frame, and his eyes were deeply shadowed. He turned to my dad. I saw Reed wince at his wasted form.

He leaned over to talk to Dad, who grasped Reed's hand in one of his own feeble ones. Tears welled in Reed's eyes as he kissed Dad on the forehead. Immediately after, Dad closed his eyes and drifted off into his drugged sleep.

Reed came to me and enfolded me into his arms again. I stayed there for a bit, enjoying the warmth and smell of him, but after a few minutes, pulled away.

"He'll be asleep for a while. Let's go for a walk. I know... we can go walk around campus for a bit. It's break so it will be empty."

We didn't talk during the short car ride, and once we got to campus, conversation was light. I had shown him around before of course, but he patiently listened to my college tales again. We were sitting in one of the concrete benches in the Quad, enjoying the beautiful old oaks. It was winter, but still warm, and the sun was bright.

"I hate to bring this up now," he said, looking genuinely troubled, " but I need to talk to you about the house. There's a serious offer."

"It's yours. Do what you want with it.

"I didn't mean it when I said that. I want to give you a percentage of the sale. It's only fair."

"Reed," I said firmly, "I mean what I just said. Do what you want."

"We can talk about the actual house sale later. It's really the contents I need to talk to you about. I just want to know what you want. The buyers actually want to buy a lot of things, like the window treatments and the dining table; I know you don't care about those, but I want to make sure you have anything you want. I know you can't deal with it now; I'll have it put in storage till you're ready. I've taken some things for my condo," he looked embarrassed at the mention of the condo, "but again, if you want any of them or the art, just let me know."

"Honestly Reed, I don't care what you do with any of it."

"I didn't think you did." He looked a little sad as he said it. "But I didn't want to make any decisions without at least asking you."

"I appreciate it." I meant it. But then I couldn't help myself. "Did you give John a chance to pick out what he wanted?"

"John?" He said in a questioning voice. Before I could scream, "Yes, John. You know, John, the home wrecking whore you fucked for six months? That John," Reed said, "That's over. There is no John."

I didn't know what to say. After that was silence and awkwardness. He insisted we stop on the way back for "a decent meal." When we got back to the hospital, he kissed Dad again and whispered some quiet words in his ear. The awkwardness of the afternoon was gone, and we sat together again in companionable silence for a while. Dad even perked up again as the afternoon turned into evening, and he and Reed had a real talk. Finally, Reed got up to go, and gave me a last hug.

"Do you want me to stay?" he said, eyes searching mine. "Give me the word and I will."

"No," I said. "Go...but thank you." He looked at me a long time and then leaned forward. I braced for a kiss, trying to decide if I wanted it or not, but he bypassed my lips and kissed me gently on the forehead. "I'll be thinking about you," he said and then he left.

I sat in silence for a long time, listening to Dad's light snores. Realizing the lateness, I gathered my things to leave for the day, and saw the bag Reed had brought. I opened it and pulled out the picture of us in our happiest days. Looking at it still hurt, but not in the same sharp way. I then noticed there was a box in the bottom of the bag. I pulled it out, curious, and opened it. It was my watch; the crystal had been replaced, and it had been completely refurbished, the bracelet polished and shining like new. I turned it over to read the inscription I knew so well. It had been changed. It now read: I still love you. R.