7
Ben unlocks the apartment door and steps back to let Bart race through ahead of them. The Labrador goes straight to his basket and pulls out squeaky toys, throwing them around the living room and pouncing on them when they land. His tail sends a pile of magazines flying as he noses in the bean bags to unearth the rawhide bone he must have hidden there before they left and he flops down to gnaw on it.
“God what a dork.” Ben kicks his shoes off, he flicks through the mail, tosses it on the bench, and opens the fridge door. “Barely in the door and he’s got all his toys out, made a mess, and found something to eat.”
Alex grins and begins pulling clothes from the weekend bag, bundling them into the washing machine.
“Yeah you two must be kindred spirits,” he says.
“You calling me a dog?”
“I’m not the one obsessed with toys and food.”
“Whatever,” Ben hunts for the take out cards in a drawer. “Obviously, you have a type since you love both of us. Thai or Pizza?”
“Yeah, overgrown puppies who can’t pick up after themselves. If you leave your shoes there, he’s going to eat them. Pizza.”
Ben dials the number for pizza, rolls his eyes when Alex calls out to him from the bedroom not to forget the capers – has he ever forgotten the capers? – and kicks his shoes into the bottom of the cupboard. Shuts the door and orders the pizza. He hears the toilet flush and Alex reappears, dressed in sweats and a faded tee-shirt.
“What does it say about you that I find you hot, even in sweats?” Ben ask as he peers in the fridge.
“I suspect it says more about you than it does me,” Alex retorts. “Why are you in the fridge again? You just ordered pizza.”
“You wouldn’t let me stop for chicken, I’m hungry.” He pulls out a carton of milk, sniffs it, grimaces and tosses it in the trash. “We better do a supermarket run later.”
“Feed Bart, that will distract you.”
Muttering under his breath about how Alex is trying to starve him, Ben gets the kibble out and fills Bart’s bowl. Before he can finish, Bart is sliding across the floor and snapping at the pieces as they fall from the bag. As he puts the bag away, the doorbell sounds and Alex goes to get the pizza; Ben grabs the last two bottles of beer from the fridge and joins him in the living room. His mouth waters at the smell of hot, melted cheese and onion. When Bart pushes past him and tries to snuffle in the box, Alex grabs his collar with one hand, his rawhide bone with the other, and drags him out to the balcony, leaving the door open just enough to be able to talk to him through and for several minutes, they eat in silence. Ben picks up a third slice and shifts around so he’s lying on his back with his head in Alex’s lap. He nibbles on the pointed end of the pizza.
“You’re going to choke doing that.” Alex points out.
“Not the first time you’ve said that when I’ve had my head in your lap.” Ben grins when Alex flicks his ear with a pizza greasy finger. “Besides at least I’d die in one of my favorite places.”
“Oh my god, will you knock it off?”
Ben’s smile fades and he rests his pizza on his chest.
“How did you do it?” he asks.
“Do what?”
“Keep it together all those years. On your own. With your parents and everything?”
Alex swallows a mouthful of beer.
“Well, there was Matt,” he says.
“Come on, you know what I mean. Matt didn’t know the whole story so you were on your own. How did you cope with it all?”
Alex puts his bottle down and pushes his hair back off his face.
“Ben, you know how I coped. I pushed it down as far as I could, so I didn’t have to cope with it and I made sure nobody could get close enough to make me cope with it.”
“Until I came along.”
“Yeah, until you came along and dragged me kicking and screaming out of my hole. I’m not exactly an example to follow when it comes to coping.”
Ben picks up his pizza again and thinks about this for a moment.
“Okay maybe it’s more accurate to say you’re a good example of surviving rather than coping but that’s just semantics.” He wipes his fingers on Alex’s sweats, smiles when Alex smacks his hand and scolds him. “I feel like I’m going crazy. Every time I see her, it feels like there’s a little less of her. Whenever I see her number come up on my phone I’m sure it’s going to be someone saying something’s happened. And last night … I don’t know… I just felt like I wanted to find a hole somewhere and crawl in it and then never have to deal with it. Any of it.”
Alex nods and says he’s familiar with the feeling.
“It feels as though nothing I do or say is going to be right. And I’m just so damned angry. Some days I just want it to be over, you know and then I feel so bad because that isn’t what I want. I don’t want her to die, I just …”
“Those are normal feelings, sweetheart." Alex's voice is gentle. "There are no rules for how to react or deal with any of this. Cancer is all kinds of fucked up and you have every right to feel the way you feel. I know how I’d feel if it was Matt or Claire,” tilts Ben’s face so he’s looking up at him, “and I know what it would do to me if it was you.”
“You called me sweetheart.” Ben’s smile is sad as he reaches up to tug on a strand of hair. “Is it bad that I deal with it all by nailing your ass?”
“I think it’s worse that you refer to sex with your husband as nailing his ass,” Alex says with a grin. Ben shrugs. “We all deal with stress in different ways. I run. You have sex. It’s a distraction like any other.”
“I like my distraction better than yours.”
“Long as it’s with me, so do I.”
“Only ever with you, baby.” Ben turns on his side and nuzzles Alex’s navel. “You know, I’m feeling kind of stressed now.”
“Uh huh,” Alex shakes his head “what a surprise.”
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