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Ben’s navigation buzzed in his hand at the intersection. He glanced at it and it told him to left. Steeling himself, Ben lifted his head and pulled back his hood enough to see where he was. Not that he recognized anything in the neighborhood, and even if he did, the wind was whipping snow around so hard that despite the blue sky overhead, it felt like it was snowing. The intersection had a light, so he pushed the pedestrian button, even though he wasn’t positive they actually worked. When the walk signal was active, Ben lowered his head against the wind and blowing snow and crossed the street.
Then there was a screech of tires and the shock of having been hit by something and lastly the pain of his head hitting the icy street. Dammit! He’d just been hit by a car.
Ben was suddenly furious. He’d done everything right. He’d been the better person time and time again. He’d never hurt anyone, at least that he was aware of. There was just that one thing his mother and her church couldn’t forgive, that one thing that would send him to hell sure as Sunday, and he’d giventhatup, too, leaving the man who’d become the center of his whole world because that had been the right thing to do. Ben hadn’t jaywalked or crossed against a light. He’d done every single thing he had any control over right and he’d still found himself hit by a damn car.
He wanted to stand up and pound on the person’s hood in anger and frustration. The only problem was that when he tried to sit up everything hurt and his vision got all funny. First there were things swimming in front of his eyes, then everything went gray. There might be something wrong with his head.
Ben heard a man say, “Are you okay, buddy?”
He tried to answer but his mouth wouldn’t make any sound and his head hurt so much and it was a relief, frankly when his body gave up entirely everything went black.
30
Simon Fights with His Mother
Wednesday, December 20
Simon’s study
The Gold Coast
Simon dressed angrily then stomped down to his study. Or at least he stomped as much as anyone could while barefoot. He threw open the door and there was his mother, sitting by the fire, looking like she’d swallowed a lemon.
“I don’t suppose you’d like to tell me what you’ve been up to,” his mother said.
“Is that supposed to be a question?” Simon knew it sounded childish, but his mother always did this to him. She reduced him to age eight with just one look and he wasthat boywho couldn’t hold it in class and needed his mother to deliver him dry pants.
She rolled her eyes and looked aggrieved. “Simon Christopher, since when have you taken up with a man? Who is this man? Where did you meet him? Why has it been over four decades and you still won’t come out to your mother? Am I that much of a monster? Has this been going on foryearswithout my knowledge? Do you haveanyideahow humiliating it is to hear about your son’s sexuality from Mandy Parker, of all people? I don’t evenlikeher and she knows it so ofcourseshe had to tell me in front ofeveryonein the spa while I was taking a mud bath so I couldn’t evenmove!Of course I had to fly back immediately. I’d have gotten nothing from you over the phone.”
“This is none of your business, Mother. I don’t need to run my social life by you. I haven’t had to do so in thirty years.”
“You never hadto before. You dated such nice women, but they never went anywhere and I always wondered… but that’s neither here nor there. The point is that I had to learn all of this fromMandy Parkerand not my own son!”
Simon fell into a delicate chair near hers, making it groan worryingly.
“Be careful of the furniture, Simon! That chair is Chippendale!”
He threw his head back and looked at the ceiling. “I met Ben very recently.” He wondered how little information he could give his mother and get away with.
“And who are his people?”
“What are you, a Vanderbilt? Your great-grandfather made his fortune slaughtering buffalo for their hides. And on Father’s side, great-great-grandfather Prince ran a mine in West Virginia that employed small children. That’s nothing to be proud of.”
His mother sniffed. “Well, the Vanderbilts aren’t that special. Simon, just how much do you know about this young man? Is he even of age? Please tell me you haven’t been preying on children.”
Simon stopped looking at the ceiling long enough to glare at his mother. “He’s twenty-eight.”
“That’s still twenty years younger than you. You could be his father!”
Since Simon hadn’t lost his virginity until age twenty-two, that was an unlikely prospect, but he kept that to himself and instead said, “Don’t be ridiculous, Mother.”
“Don’t take that tone of voice with me,” she snapped back. “I’m yourmother.”
“You barged into my private rooms less than an hour ago. I think I’m entitled to take any sort of tone I want.”
His mother hmphed. “How long have you been gay?”
“How long have you been homophobic?” Simon snapped back.
