The Tin Box (26 page)

“I….” William found himself at a loss for words. “Do you think someone would publish it? And would people buy it?”

“I dunno. But you drew me in right away and I have a few publishing connections. And Jesus, William, don’t you think people need to know about this?” Chet waved his arms. “All of this.”

William spoke slowly. “Yes. I think they do.”

“Good. Hey, look. I gotta head north. But you have my card. Let me get your number and we can chat as soon as I get home. That’ll be, um, two weeks from now. I know a couple of publishers—I have a couple of books out already—so I’ll feel this out with them.”

William walked to the gate and waited for Chet to drive his Volvo off the property. Chet paused the car as he passed. “I am really glad we met, William. Looking forward to talking with you about the book. Meantime, keep reading those files, okay?”

They shook hands before Chet rolled away. William locked the gate and hurried back to the main building.

A
S
THE
evening fell, William felt more excited about the potential book project than he’d felt about… well, almost anything. Anything but Colby. Certainly more excited than he was about his dissertation. His research was sound. He’d get a few publications out of it, which would be helpful when he applied for academic jobs and when he went up for tenure. Other researchers would read his work, cite it. But it wouldn’t
touch
anyone.

God, he so wished he had someone he could talk to. He wished he could sit on the couch with a beer in his hand and a friend at his side, babbling at length about how he’d choose which patients to write about, and what he would say, and how he’d go about getting permission from families when necessary, and the impact he hoped the hypothetical book might have. He could share his vision for the book: a way to return some dignity to the patients and to pay tribute to the strength of men like Bill.

Of course, there was nobody to talk to. He’d felt Colby’s absence acutely every single day since May. He’d now been missing him for a much longer time than they’d been friendly. Tonight, though, it seemed worse than ever.

“Suck it up,” William said out loud, then decided he had a couple of calls to make if he wanted this book thing to work out.

A
FEW
days into September, William’s phone rang. He startled slightly and then swore. He was in the midst of packing a few things for tomorrow’s day-trip to the university. Tomorrow afternoon he’d be defending his dissertation. His nerves might have been just a bit on edge.

He didn’t even glance at the screen before answering and was a little snippy when he spoke. “What!”

“Hi, William.”

“Colby.” William’s heart raced. “Sorry. Didn’t realize it was you.”

“Oh. Well, hello.”

“Hey.”

Who knew silences could be so awkward, even over the phone?

Finally, Colby cleared his throat. “You have, um, mail. Lawyer stuff. I didn’t know if you needed it right away.”

And with those words, William’s hope crashed and burned. He tried to keep his voice steady. “Is it okay if I come now and get it? I’ll be gone tomorrow.”

Colby made a small noise, then cleared his throat again. “Um, yeah. Of course. That’s my job.”

“Right. Assistant postmaster.”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll be there soon.”

It took him twenty minutes to get there. It would have been less, but he spent a ridiculous amount of time standing in front of the armoire, deciding what to wear. In the end he growled at himself and drove there as is: sandals, khaki shorts, plain white tee.

Colby, on the other hand—in a red-and-yellow-striped tank top and blue shorts—looked as bright as an exotic bird. The bleached streaks were back in his hair. He’d pierced his right ear, too, and was wearing a sparkly stud. He stood behind the postal counter, greeting William with a tentative smile.

“Hey, William.”

“Will.”

Colby’s smile grew. “Will. You look really good. I like your hair like that.”

William ran his fingers through it. “It’s too long. I haven’t found a local barber and—”

“It looks good. And you’ve been working out.”

“Um, yeah.” William shifted self-consciously. “A little. It fills the time.”

“I know.”

Colby turned to the mail cubbies. When he faced William again, he was holding an envelope. William took it and glanced at the return address. Lisa’s lawyers. He opened the envelope and removed the papers, then scanned them quickly.

“Everything okay?” Colby asked after a minute or so.

“Final divorce decree. I guess I’m officially single.”

“Oh. Well, congrats. It’s good timing to be moving back to civilization then.”

William looked up from the papers to Colby. “Huh?”

“Now you can date freely, no legal tangles to worry about. I can… I can give you the name of a couple of clubs in the city, if you want. Places you might like.” Colby sighed and he looked down at scarred counter. “Or not.”

“But I’m not… I’m not moving back.”

Colby’s head shot up. “You said you’re going tomorrow.”

“Just for the day. I’m defending my dissertation. I’ll be back here by nighttime.”

Was that relief on Colby’s face? “But I thought…. You told me you’d be done here by fall. Something about an assistantship.”

“I turned down the assistantship. I have… I have this really exciting project I’m working on here instead. A book! We already have a publishing contract and everything. Chet knows some people and we were able to find a publisher really quickly.” He couldn’t help gushing a little with excitement. “Jan—she’s with the trust that runs the hospital—she says I can stay as long as I want, which is great. She’s pretty psyched about the book too, actually. So I still have free rent and they’re paying me enough to live off of. In fact, they’re paying me extra because I’m helping them catalog the patient files for their archives. I figure hunting for a professorship can wait another year or so. Plus, Chet thinks maybe we can make a few dollars off the book. The publisher’s giving us an advance!”

Colby waited until the deluge of words was over. “Chet?”

“My partner. He’s a photographer. His work is amazing.”

“Ah. Well, congratulations. I’m glad you found each other.”

“He’s straight,” William blurted. When Colby’s eyebrows rose, William added, “We’re not lovers. Not that kind of partners. We’re just working together.”

Again, a quick flash of something flew across Colby’s face. “Well, the book sounds really cool.”

“It is. It will be. Um… maybe we could have lunch sometime and I can tell you about it.”

“Maybe.”

William wanted to say more. He wanted to tell Colby how much he’d missed him, how much he yearned for his company. He wanted to say that he hadn’t touched another man. He’d been to the Stockyard only that time in July, and then he’d fled. William wanted Colby to know that he’d realized nobody else could fill that place in his heart.

Hell, he wanted to fall onto his knees and beg Colby to have him, to keep him, to love him. He would have done it if he thought it would have done any good.

Instead, he nodded and slipped the divorce papers back into the envelope. “Well, thanks.”

“No problem.”

“I’ll, uh, see you later.”

“Good luck on the defense, Will.”

F
ALL
was officially a week away, but William was still sweating, still cursing his car’s lack of air conditioning. He had his window down as he drove to Mariposa, which meant that hot, dusty air was blowing in his face, making his eyes feel gritty. He swore under his breath as yet another tourist blew past him going twenty miles over the speed limit, spewing exhaust and road debris in her wake. The highway patrol really ought to crack down. Of course, he thought that every time he drove to Mariposa.

This time, he didn’t have lunch at the Java Joint. The food was good, but he was a little tired of it. Instead, he tried the Chinese place a few blocks away; he hadn’t eaten Chinese in ages. The food was okay, he concluded; not up to Bay Area standards, but acceptable. Plus, it was air-conditioned.

Over time he’d come to view Frank’s Grab’em as a magic place, always seeming to have what he needed. There was never much selection—when he went looking for boxer briefs, the store carried exactly one style and color in his size. But then, who needed tons of selection, so long as you found what you needed? William was very satisfied with his blue underwear.

Today his goal was a window air conditioner. Yes, it was late in the season for a purchase like that. But the temperatures had been over one hundred the past two days, and he couldn’t stand one more day of swelter. Besides, he could use it again next summer.

As he’d expected, there was one model of air conditioner on the shelf at Frank’s. He wrestled it into his cart with a grunt. And then, because he was there anyway, he shopped a little more. He picked up some groceries, a three-pack of athletic socks, and a bottle of wine. Today was his birthday. The air conditioner was his present to himself and the wine would be his celebration.

He got carded when he paid. The girl at the cash register noticed his birthday on his driver’s license and sweetly wished him a good day. She probably thought thirty-three was ancient.

He shoved his purchases into his car, turned the radio to his favorite country station, and headed home.

Just before he reached beautiful downtown Jelley’s Valley, another vehicle came rushing up so close behind him that it was nearly in his back seat. He swore and moved slightly onto the shoulder, encouraging the asshole to pass. He especially hated it when people sped through town, because he knew kids crossed the highway on their way to and from school. The oversized pickup gunned past him in a blare of engine noise and pounding music.

“He probably has a teeny-tiny dick,” William muttered.

A couple hundred yards before the cutoff to the hospital, he saw a bicycle on the edge of the road. It was on its side, the front wheel still spinning. Among the brown vegetation nearby, he spied a splash of color he recognized as a human being.

“Fuck!” William immediately pulled onto the shoulder and turned off the engine. Slamming his door shut, he sprinted to the downed bicyclist. But even before he reached the motionless man, he saw the bright stripes of bleached hair.

“Colby! Colby!”

In his panic, everything became oddly dreamy and slowed down. William threw himself to his knees beside Colby, who lay facedown, and reached for his shoulder. At the touch, Colby moved his head slightly, blinking up at him. “Will?” he moaned.

“Don’t move! Don’t move! I’m calling 911.” He’d left his phone in the car.

“Don’t.” For an injured man, Colby moved surprisingly fast, grabbing William’s hand before he could stand. “I’m okay.”

“But you’re—”

Colby groaned and rolled onto his back. “I’m not hurt. I skinned my knees and saw the blood—” His face twisted. He scrambled quickly onto all fours before vomiting into the weeds. William knelt helplessly, rubbing Colby’s dirty, sweaty back. Colby was wearing his dance whore shirt.

After retching for several minutes, Colby tried to stand. William helped him up. “Colby, I don’t think you should—”

“I’m
fine
. I just fainted.” He sighed, started to glance down at his knees, and then quickly looked away. “Haven’t done that in a while. Makes me feel like an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot. You got in a bike accident. Did that speeding fuckwad hit you?”

Colby blinked at the swearing and then grinned slightly. “Fuckwad, huh? No. He just zoomed so close I panicked and swerved. Lost control of the bike.”

“I told you to wear a helmet!”

Colby’s grin widened. “And that would have helped me how? It’s my knees that suffered.”

“But you could easily have hit your head! And then—” William took a calming breath. “You might need that head, occasionally.”

“Now and then.”

William was still supporting a good portion of Colby’s weight. Colby’s knees were a bloody, filthy mess and he still looked shaky. “Are you sure you don’t want me to call 911?”

“The ambulance will come from Mariposa, which takes forever, and I don’t need a rescue crew. Just a cleanup. Could you give me and my bike a ride home?”

“Yeah, sure, I—oh, I can’t. My car’s full of stuff.” William thought quickly. “Look. I’ll hide your bike behind those bushes so it won’t be visible from the road. Then I’ll take you to my place. I have a first aid kit, and I’m guessing you’re not going to want to deal with those injuries yourself.”

“Uh… no. I can’t even—” William helped steady him as he bent to dry heave. Then Colby stood up again and leaned against William’s chest. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’ll fix you up a little and empty the car. We can stop for the bike on our way back into town.”

Colby nodded. His knees must have hurt like hell, and William nearly had to carry him back to the road. He helped Colby into the passenger seat and then, on impulse, peeled off his own shirt and laid it gently across Colby’s lap, so that Colby wouldn’t risk seeing the wounds. Colby smiled up at him gratefully. “I’m ruining your shirt.”