IN THAT first week, Conrad became a fixture in Aiden and Daniel’s home. The time living with him transpired like an awkward storm cloud pushing over the mountains. An additional gnawing expectation materialized.
Dimness replaced the sharp flashes in Daniel’s ebony eyes, but what alarmed Aiden most was Daniel’s avoiding Conrad. Each morning he insisted on leaving early for his shop and returning home close to seven, saying he needed to finish backlogged projects. Aiden understood Daniel wanted to divorce himself from the drama played out at their nascent home. Aiden discovered that whenever Daniel had little control over a situation, he’d rather disappear than feel the emasculating effects of helplessness.
Again on Sunday, Daniel worked several hours in his garage workshop. Aiden explained to Conrad that spring was Daniel’s busiest season. Despite Daniel’s apathy, Aiden concentrated on Conrad’s wants and needs. With no television, Conrad spent much of his time watching shared files or movies on his laptop, usually while in the living area, under Aiden’s nose. They spent little time apart.
On Monday Aiden carted him to the cancer clinic for a third time. Aiden never knew which days Conrad was to undergo radiation until the night before and one time the morning of.
Like the first two times, Conrad insisted Aiden drop him off. Aiden understood his need for privacy. He spent an hour at the public library working on his article until Conrad texted him. As usual, Conrad was waiting for him outside on the bench.
At home Conrad complained of backaches and stomach cramps, but he was able to sit on the easy chair and waste time on his laptop. Aiden was glad he had his article to keep him busy while Conrad sighed and shifted on Daniel’s favorite chair. Conrad found a good friend in Ranger. Later in the afternoon, they played outdoors for a half hour and when they came in, Conrad gave Ranger a treat from his special cupboard.
Conrad appeared healthier Wednesday night when Nick showed for dinner. That time it was Aiden who invited their good neighbor.
Nick, a welcome distraction for them, brought cheer to a growing gloominess in the quiet home. Perhaps he charmed Conrad more. After they ate, Nick and Conrad convened on the sofa with their shoulders near touching and talked about Michigan and life in the nation’s capital.
Nick’s lazy Oklahoma accent deepened the more he chatted with Conrad. Cleaning the dinner dishes, Aiden and Daniel glanced at each other and shrugged.
“I’ve got great news,” Nick said once Aiden and Daniel joined them in the living space. “My wonderful friend from Albany Ridge is finally coming for a visit. He’ll be here next week. He has business in the Flathead Valley. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him.”
“Why don’t you both come over for dinner while he’s here,” Aiden said. “Anytime is good.”
“Sounds like an excellent plan. I’ll make sure of letting Farzad know. I’m sure he’d enjoy meeting you. He’ll be staying at a hotel in town. Refused my offer to put him up, although I have more than ample room.” Nick looked past them and out the darkened dining window toward where his lonely ranch sat hidden behind the line of trees straddling the road. “Said he wanted to be closer to his work. He was always a private man.”
That makes two of you, Aiden wanted to say. Instead, he offered Nick more coffee. They spoke the rest of the night about the coming spring, Daniel’s orders for furniture, a little about Aiden’s article on strip mining. Unlike last time, they avoided talk of Conrad’s illness.
Conrad was the first to see Nick to the door when he announced he needed to leave. Nick patted Conrad’s shoulder. “You take care of yourself, young man. See you soon.”
“Bye, Nick.” Conrad waved after him.
Later that night in bed, Aiden said, “I’m glad Conrad and Nick are becoming good friends. For both of them.”
“Maybe you can see if Nick wants to spend more time with Conrad.”
Aiden gaped at Daniel. “But you said no playing matchmaker.”
“Matchmaker?” Daniel snickered. “I’m thinking more of filling Conrad’s free time. From what I’ve seen he has plenty of it. Too much. Besides, I have doubts of your assumption Nick Pfeifer is like us.”
“But Nick knows we’re gay,” Aiden ventured to say. “And clearly he doesn’t mind. None of the other neighbors have talked with us much here. Surely they know we’re a couple.”
Daniel squirmed under the bedcovers. “Even Nick says that they don’t talk to him much.”
“See, that’s what I mean. We’re all the same to them. Nick’s probably gay.”
Daniel furrowed his forehead. “Then why wouldn’t he tell us?”
“He’s private, like you said. We never told him about us in so many words, have we?”
“People here are more reclusive. That’s why they move here. It was that way when we lived closer to the Swan Range. But none of that matters.” Daniel made a sweeping motion with his right hand. “I still can’t imagine spending my time doing nothing. If we are to care for Conrad, then we should encourage him to spend time outside of the home with others. And Nick must want more company. He can’t always come over here. He’s lonely.”
The word “lonely” flopped from Daniel’s mouth like an egg falling from slippery fingers. Blatant truths were often so real there could be no shying away from them. Daniel, like Aiden, did not like to equivocate. He might avoid a subject but once he fixated on one, he did not fabricate nonsense. He was raised in a culture where such thinking was considered phony. Nick was one of the loneliest men Aiden ever came across, and he accepted there was no point in whitewashing Daniel’s insight.
The old glint returned to Daniel’s eyes, and Aiden knew exactly what he was thinking. There were many topics uncomfortable for Daniel to broach, even in front of Aiden, but his eyes, like deep ponds, never lied. Wouldn’t Daniel, growing up gay on an Amish farm, know more about loneliness than any of them?
“Sometimes loneliness makes us seek more of it,” Daniel said, his coffee-colored eyes wide, “as if we’re ashamed what others will think if they learned the truth.”
Aiden laid his head on Daniel’s broad shoulder. “Nick doesn’t strike me as someone who worries much about what others think about him. That’s what’s so baffling. He should be surrounded by friends. He’s so outgoing, but he hides so much too. I’m glad his friend from school will be visiting.”
“Nick has many secrets,” Daniel surprised Aiden by admitting. “The Amish aren’t the only people who feel uncomfortable talking about their private lives.”
Aiden shifted his eyes to get a good look at Daniel. He noted his reddening cheeks above his beard. “Maybe in the mountains,” Aiden said, “in places like Montana, people are more at peace with who they are with no need for shouting to the world. Maybe that’s why they seem so secretive.”
Daniel’s cheeks darkened further. “I figure that might be true. Meanwhile, best get some sleep.” He reached up and switched off the light. “Our days have gotten longer with Conrad here, don’t you think? Much longer than what the spring alone has brought.”
IN THE middle of the night, Daniel awoke to a strange stirring down the hall. He sat up and turned on the table lamp. Aiden was not in bed. He checked for a light under the bathroom door. Empty. The alarm clock read half past two. Soon after, Aiden, his face drawn and sleepy, slumped into the room. He mumbled for Daniel to switch off the light and hunkered under the covers without any more words.
Daniel ogled his dark form, waiting for him to explain.
“He’s sick,” Aiden said to the murkiness with a grainy voice. “I probably shouldn’t have allowed him to stay up so late with Nick.”
Daniel stared at him. “Did he throw up?”
He sensed Aiden nodding. “The worst of it was over before I got there. He’s sleeping now. He looked so healthy and full of energy before bed. I guess that’s how lymphoma treatments work. One minute you’re fine, the next….”
“We don’t need to take him to the hospital?”
“Of course not.”
“Did you wear the gloves?”
“I took all the precautions.”
“Maybe we can hire an at-home nurse. Even the Amish sometimes use them when absolutely necessary.”
“There’s no need for that. I’ll care for him.”
“I worry about you.” Daniel’s voice fell to a raspy tone. “I don’t want you to get sick too. You read the brochures. If you expose yourself to cancer drugs and radiation, you can increase your resistance to any cancer drug if you… if you were to ever get cancer in the future.”
“People treat cancer patients every day, they don’t all fall ill,” Aiden murmured into his pillow. “You don’t have to worry. But I can’t help but think, Daniel, what if… in the worst-case scenario… what if he dies here. What if we’re his hospice care and the last people he’ll interact with?”
“Maybe we should speak to his doctors. I feel we should know more.”
The sheets rustled, and Aiden cuddled closer. “What else is there to know? He’s here, and we have to help him.”
“And for how long will that be?”
Aiden breathed. “I have no clue.”
Daniel felt Aiden lift his head, and in the murky shadows, he could see his molten amber eyes. “I don’t like that he’s sick or watching him growing weaker, Daniel.” His head fell warm against Daniel’s chest and his breath tickled Daniel’s flesh. “But he does need us, both of us.”
Aiden fell quiet, and Daniel stroked Aiden’s back while his words vibrated deep inside his gut. “Figure he’s the type that might need someone to help him even if he didn’t have a life-threatening illness,” Daniel whispered toward the ceiling, hoping perhaps someone more potent than the both of them heard his sober words.