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Phillip watched him for a moment. Then, “I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t do that to you, buddy.”
“Okay.”
“David?”
He was exhausted. “Yeah.”
“Can you stay with me? Here?”
David didn’t dare ask if he meant now or forever, already nodding even before Phillip finished his question. “Yes. Anything. Yes.”
His face was sore, his eyes felt like they had sand in them. And he was rooted where he stood as Phillip moved toward the bed, stepping around him. He pulled back the comforter, bumping into David, who took a step back.
Phillip climbed into the bed on the right side, and David knew what his next step was, knew what was to be expected of him, but he couldn’t make himself move. He couldn’t find the strength to take those last little steps.
He watched as Phillip sniffled, pulling the comforter up to his chest, leaning back against the pillow, ring resting on his chest. A long few seconds ticked by before Phillip looked up at him and asked, “Are you coming to bed?”
Please don’t let this be a dream, he thought.
He walked around the bed to his side.
He pulled back the comforter.
He got in.
He breathed.
He lived.
He ached.
He died a little death as he sank into the mattress, because it was so good, it felt so good and he never wanted to move again. He hoped Phillip wouldn’t make him. Granted, nothing had been resolved and everything was still up in the air, but he hoped Phillip would just let him stay here, in their bed, so he could sleep and pretend, at least for a little while, that everything was okay.
He turned on his side facing Phillip.
Phillip did the same.
They were twentysomethings again, in their shirts and underwear, asking about aliens and colors and Snap! with waffles.
They were thirtysomething again, in sleep pants and tank tops, and she was there too, and she was reading them a story out of one of her books, about a happy bunny named Mr. Fluff.
They were fortysomething again, in shorts and shirts, and she was between them, wiping her eyes, telling them she didn’t know why she was so upset about what that stupid girl had said about her, they weren’t even friends.
They were older men now, David reaching out and holding Phillip’s secret ring so that it scraped against David’s own. They didn’t speak for the longest time, and David thought maybe it was his turn to talk first. That he should be the one to say what needed to be said. He was scared. He thought maybe it was the scariest thing he’d ever done. But Phillip had still worn his ring, so David thought he could be brave too.
He said, “I feel guilty. Every time I smile. Not that I do it that much anymore. But I do. Feel guilty.”
Phillip narrowed his eyes a little. “Why?”
“Because,” David said, voice breaking. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Because, I think… it’s… A couple of months ago, I got an e-mail. It was from—you know what? I don’t even remember who it was from. It—that doesn’t matter. I was reading it, and there was something stupid in it, and I laughed. I laughed, and after, I thought it might have been the worst thing I’d ever done. That I was just spitting on her and her mem
ory. Because I was laughing.” He took a deep breath and let it out slow. Phillip’s hand covered his that held the rings, holding it tightly. “She was gone, and here I was, sitting in front of a computer, laughing at an e-mail I’d gotten. Like it was nothing. Like she was nothing.”
“That’s not—”
“Just—let me. Let me finish, okay?”
Phillip nodded, blinking rapidly. He sniffled again.
