Greeting Cards

  Chapter 1

  IT was almost ten p.m. when Ben Haggerty stepped out of the elevator, and he had to lean against the wall, needing a minute to dredge up the energy it would take to complete the final steps to his home. He’d been on the job since five in the morning, and he was wiped out.

  Twenty feet away was the door to the apartment he shared with his boyfriend; he could do this.

  He drew a breath, pushed off from the wall, and moved down the corridor in more of a shuffle than a walk. Even if Rick had something heating in the Crock-Pot, Ben didn’t think he’d be able to eat a bite.

  He and Rick had been lovers since just before high school graduation, seven years ago. For two years, they’d kept their relationship a secret. It hadn’t been too difficult, even though their hometown of DeKalb was so small that everyone knew everyone’s business.

  No one had known, though. Ben was in the apprenticeship program the local electrician’s union offered, so he lived with his family. And since Rick was in the community college, he stayed with the couple who had become his guardians after his parents were killed in a car accident when he was ten.

  Unfortunately, once Rick transferred to Howe College for the final two years of his degree, things had gotten a little hinky. Ben had never been comfortable with talking dirty on the phone, especially the home phone, and his worst fears were realized one evening when his cell phone was charging, and his mom picked up the extension and overheard a conversation with Rick.

  “I’m taking my shorts off, Ben,” Rick was saying. “Do you see how hard I am for you? Lick the precome off my dick. You know you want to….”

  A gasp warned Ben, but before he could say anything to Rick, his mother had cried, “Benjamin Haggerty, what are you doing? Who are you talking to?”

  “Oh, hello, Mrs. Haggerty. It’s Richard Preston. May I finish my conversation with Ben?”

  There had been no way to lie his way out of it after that, not that he’d wanted to.

  He knew his parents loved him, but they’d given him an ultimatum—give up Rick or get out. So he’d gotten out, realizing too late that he’d left behind his cell phone.

  Rick was pleased, though. Ben could tell when he called him from the payphone outside the DeKalb public library. “You’ve got the perfect excuse to leave that one-horse town and move to Greenedale with me now,” Rick said, and went on and on about the college town and how much more it had to offer than DeKalb. “And I found a small apartment off campus that will suit the two of us down to the ground.”

  “But….”

  “Of course, if you’d rather stay in DeKalb, I’ll just have to find another roommate.” Rick sounded so mournful.

  “No!”

  “You’ll come, then?”

  “All right, Rick.” Ben forced a smile, even though Rick couldn’t see him. After all, Rick had been without his parents for the past ten years. Ben could give up his own parents for him. But maybe one day….

  He bought a ticket to Greenedale, and Rick met him at the bus depot.

  “You’ll love the apartment. It’s got two bedrooms.” Rick led Ben into the men’s room, crowded him against the stall, and nuzzled his neck. “God, I’ve missed this. But remember, the extra bedroom is just to keep the nosy neighbors from suspecting we’re gay. We’ll be sleeping together.”

  “Sure, Rick. Whatever you say.” He began to warm to the subject. “We’ll be here for…. How long will we be here?”

  “I’ll graduate in a year and a half, and I can get my master’s in physiological chemistry here in three years, so figure four and a half years.”

  “You always were the smart one, Rick.”

  “Maybe I’ll even get my doctorate here, as well.”

  “That’d be great. And I’ve got my union card, so I’ll be able to get a job anywhere.” And as soon as he had a spare minute, he’d replace his cell phone.

  “Yes. Now, come on. I want to give you a tour of our place.” He gave Ben’s dick a squeeze. “And we can finish this there.”

  GOD, they’d been so in love then, they hadn’t been able to keep their hands off each other. Not to say they weren’t in love now…. Jesus, he was so exhausted he wasn’t making any sense. Rick was busy with his thesis, and Ben was working as much overtime as he could get, saving up for a house of their own.

  He could just see it—a white, split-level ranch with green trim; the broad lawn with mature oaks and willows, and a white picket fence. As for the inside, since it would be just him and Rick, the number of bedrooms was immaterial, although if they should ever decide to adopt….

  Of course Rick wasn’t ready for that yet, not the house or the kids or even the floppy-eared dog Ben dreamed of, but that was okay. They still needed about ten thousand dollars more for a decent down payment, and while his paycheck was going to be a hefty one this week, the insurance for both their cars was coming due, as well as the rent.

  Still, he should be able to put something into their savings account.

  Ben fumbled with the key, and it took him a full minute to get it into the lock and push the door open.

  “Hi, Rick. Sorry I had to work so late tonight.” For the past eight weeks, he hadn’t even been able to make bagpipe practice. He’d been piping with the local American Legion band since he’d moved to Greenedale, and he loved it, but because of all the overtime he’d been putting in, the fall parade season had been a wash. “You know there’s no saying ‘no’ to the boss when he….” The heavy silence in the apartment struck him. “Rick? Sweetheart?”

  The kitchen was dark, and so was the bedroom, but the light in the living room/dining room was set to dim. He’d wired the dimmer switch when they’d first moved in, unable to resist showing off his ability, especially since that wasn’t the type of wiring he usually did.

  Ben had always thought Rick was proud of what he did, just as he was proud of Rick, but a few months ago, out of a clear blue sky, Rick’d said, “Blue-collar workers are so low-class.”

  The words whispered in Ben’s brain. No matter how hard he tried to dismiss them, they kept coming back, even though he knew Rick had just been overtired and stressed from the students he had to teach and the research he had to do. He hadn’t meant them. So Ben intended to make Rick see that maybe he worked a blue-collar job, maybe he came from a middle-class union family, but his talents were just as valuable as Rick’s.

  He unbuckled his tool belt and left it where it fell. Rick would be unhappy about that, but Ben would face his irritation later.

  He flipped on the light switch in the bedroom. The bed was neatly made. Rick never made the bed. Not that Ben minded. A genius of his lover’s magnitude didn’t have time for mundane things like tidying their apartment.

  So why had he done it today?

  Ben left their bedroom. The bathroom door was closed, and he knocked and waited a few seconds. Rick didn’t like it when anyone came into the bathroom while he was using it. When there was no answer, Ben peeked in.

  Rick wasn’t there, and all the products he used had been put away.

  This wasn’t like Rick at all. The only time he would do that was when they were expecting company. Had Rick…? Ben couldn’t remember him saying anything about needing to be home early because they were entertaining.

  Ben opened the vanity under the sink. “Oh.” The hair products hadn’t been put away; they were gone. The shelf was bare.

  He rushed back into the bedroom and flung open the closet door. The side of the closet where Rick kept his suits and shirts was empty. Opening the dresser drawers revealed more of the same.

  There’s no need to panic, he told himself. So what if Rick’s clothing isn’t where it usually is? He probably just had a last-minute seminar or something he needed to attend. That had happe
ned frequently in the past year. Rick had probably left a note.

  And of course Ben would find it. He just had to keep looking.

  The kitchen was spick-and-span. The Crock-Pot was in the appliance garage; obviously Rick hadn’t planned to make him dinner.

  Okay, so no note on the counter or the table in the breakfast nook. That left the second bedroom, which they used as a computer room. Although lately, whenever Rick had friends over, he’d pat the Murphy bed in the wall and tell them this was Ben’s room.

  More than once, they’d quarreled over Rick making it sound like they were nothing more than roommates. “What do you care what those cocksuckers think of our living arrangements?” Ben had demanded the last time it came up.

  “I really hate when you use language like that. Look, Haggerty. I could lose everything if our ‘living arrangements’ came out. My scholarship, my position as Dr. Putnam’s teaching assistant… everything.”

  Ben knew Rick was pissed when he used his last name, and he’d do whatever needed to be done to keep his lover from being unhappy.

  “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I just don’t like them looking down on me.”

  “They don’t, Benjie my Ben.”

  Ben loved Rick, so he didn’t mutter, “You could have fooled me.”

  Rick threaded his fingers through Ben’s hair, something else he loved. “Keep in mind you’re a pretty talented cocksucker yourself.” And Rick had dragged him off to their bedroom to let him prove it.

  THE computer room was as tidy as the rest of the apartment. Rick’s laptop wasn’t there, but a white square of paper was. His exhaustion forgotten, Ben crossed to the desk, picked up the message, and unfolded it.

  Benjie my Ben, I’m sorry to do this to you, but duty calls, and I have to go. Things aren’t the same between us—let’s face it; they haven’t been for a very long time—

  What was he talking about? They’d made love last night… the night before? Ben squeezed the bridge of his nose. He’d been working such crazy hours, he’d lost track, but it was this week, he was certain, and it had been as good as always.

  —and it’s distracting me from my work. Dr. Putnam has noticed it, and he’s the one who suggested it might be a good idea if I find other living arrangements. I’m transferring to another university. Dr. Putnam teaches there also. I’ll finish my thesis at this university and then prepare the topic of the dissertation for my doctorate. It will only be temporary, Ben, I promise, but I need this time away, so please don’t try to find me.

  Hugs,

  Rick

  Hugs? Hugs? Who did he think Ben was, some online friend? What had happened to “love”? What had happened to seven years together?

  There was a PS, but Ben didn’t have the heart to read it. More depressed than he’d been since he’d left his family in DeKalb, he muttered, “I need a drink!”

  Although that might not be a good idea, since he was almost staggering by the time he reached the kitchen and opened the fridge, staring into it stupidly for a moment. Where had the six-pack of Yuengling gone? He was positive he hadn’t drunk it. He’d been so tired when he’d come home from work this past week and a half that he’d barely stayed awake along enough to shower, eat dinner, and hit the sheets.

  In spite of his exhaustion, Ben took inventory of the contents of the fridge—a container of 2 percent milk on one shelf, half a loaf of rye bread on another, the package of sliced bologna for his lunch in the meat tray. He’d picked it up from the supermarket deli this past weekend.

  Was this what Rick expected him to have for dinner?

  God, he needed that drink! He went to the pantry, but the bottle of Johnnie Walker Black that should have been there was gone.

  The recycling wouldn’t get picked up until the beginning of next week. He opened the cabinet under the sink and pulled out the bin they chucked their bottles and cans in.

  That’s where all the Yuengling went to!

  And the whiskey bottle. But mixed in with them were a number of empty Michelob bottles. Neither Rick nor he drank Michelob.

  “Oh, Rick!” he groaned. “Who’d you have here?”

  Of course there was no answer.

  He picked up the whiskey bottle and gave it a shake. Not even a single drop left.

  No whiskey. No beer. No lover. Goddammit, what was he supposed to do?

  He dropped the empty bottle into the recycling bin, took out the rye bread and bologna, and made a sandwich.

  THAT was early in September. By the middle of October, Ben couldn’t stand their apartment. It had become cold and dark and lonely. Well, no, not really cold and dark—it just felt that way with Rick gone—but it was lonely.

  Ben couldn’t stay there anymore. He started checking out the rentals in the Greenedale Daily News during his lunch hour, and when that didn’t turn up anything, he decided to check with Annie, the office manager for Acme Electric, the company his local had sent him to work for.

  When he’d first started at the small shop a few years ago, Annie had tried to hook him up with any of her single girlfriends. He’d finally had to tell her he was gay, and she’d taken the news good-naturedly and tried to set him up with her single gay friends.

  He walked into the office just as she snarled into the phone, “Well, you just better fucking find the money you owe us!” She slammed the phone down, muttering, “Who does he think he’s screwing with?” She looked up, saw Ben, and smiled. “Hi, Ben. I’m telling you, you just can’t give some people an inch.”

  “I guess not.” He’d heard Annie swear before—the office managers for all the other companies were scared of her—and it didn’t surprise him.

  “What’s going on?” she asked.

  “I need a new place to stay.”

  “You know, Caravan Point has a condo up for sale. It’s nice, it’s not expensive—”

  “Why?”

  She continued as if she hadn’t heard him. “—and it’s fully furnished.”

  “It’s also filled with old people.” He wouldn’t say “farts” in front of Annie. She was a nice woman, even if she did swear worse than any construction workers he knew.

  “No more than any other place.”

  “But why is it so cheap?”

  “Not cheap. Inexpensive.”

  “Okay, but why?”

  “The… uh… previous owner—”

  “I knew it. He dropped dead in the bedroom!”

  “Nothing like that.”

  “In the bathroom, then, while he was on the john!”

  “Silly. It’s just the economy.”

  He and Rick had planned to buy a house, but each time he found something he thought was perfect, Rick would point out one wrong thing after another. “You don’t want to spend all that money and then not be happy, do you?” he’d ask, and of course Ben would have to agree with him. Rick was so smart….

  He had to stop thinking about what he and Rick were going to do. “I’ll think about it,” he told Annie.

  But the apartment got him down to the point where he did more than think about the condo. He went to see it.

  Annie was right. It was nice, nicer than he expected. Two bedrooms, two baths, with an open floor plan. In spite of how he and Rick had made fun of Caravan Point and its older residents—well, at twenty, anyone older than thirty was an old fart; now, at twenty-five, not so much—he found he liked it. The amenities were better than he’d expected—a fitness room, a pool, even its own restaurant, and the furniture that came with the condo suited him. While masculine, it didn’t scream I’m gay, but you’d never guess because this place looks so butch!

  There was no one to tell him that if he bought this condo, he’d wind up with buyer’s remorse, so he went ahead and put in a bid. Considering the way his luck had been running since September, he almost expected the inspection to turn up all sorts of deficiencies, but other than updating the lighting fixtures, the place was in excellent shape.

  By the beginning of November, it was his.
/>
  “JESUS, this is the worst Christmas I’ve ever spent!” Ben sent a quick glance heavenward. “Sorry, God.”

  Holiday lights were up everywhere, but instead of filling him with the joy of the season, they just depressed him.

  He was all alone. Before this, he and Rick had been together, and before that, Ben had been with his own family—which he’d given up for Rick.

  Oh, he got some Christmas cards—one from his boss, one from Annie, a few from the people he worked with, even one from his insurance agent. But how could he put up the tree that Rick wouldn’t be there to decorate with him? How could he go to the Hallmark store to buy new ornaments, something they’d done together every year?

  Ben admired a suit in the window of Brooks Brothers, but why bother to go in? There was no Rick to buy it for.

  He watched the families strolling along the thoroughfare, window-shopping, going into the stores to let their kids sit on Santa’s lap, ice skating and having hot cocoa afterward.

  Skating was one of the things Ben was good at, but since Rick didn’t really care to skate, they didn’t do it often. This December, Ben had no desire at all to take to the ice.

  He bought a turkey breast and made himself a nice dinner with all the trimmings, but it didn’t matter. It tasted like cardboard.

  “YOU can’t string together two solid thoughts,” Rick had said at dinner one evening, about a month before he’d left. Of course he’d just been teasing.

  “It never bothered you before,” Ben murmured. He’d always liked to say he was in the top eighty percent of their class—if he made fun of himself first, no one else could.

  “How can I bring you to any faculty functions?”

  “Are you ashamed of me, Rick?”

  Rick had flushed. “No.” But his eyes hadn’t met Ben’s.

  “As soon as the overtime stops, I’ll go back to school.”

  Only he hadn’t had the opportunity to do that, because Rick had left.

  And all right, maybe he wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, but he had friends who were.

  Fred Lancaster, the guy who ran the computer lab at Howe College, owed him big time for getting the lab rewired way before the deadline, and on top of that, he liked Ben.