SEBASTIAN OPENED his eyes and the light had changed, signaling late afternoon. He’d fallen asleep again, dreaming of Frank. He sighed. The album had fallen to the floor. He leaned over to pick it up, and the room spun.
“Oh my,” he muttered as he slid forward from the chair. He put out his hand to break his fall, and a sharp pain sent stars exploding behind his eyes. He crumpled into a heap on the Chinese carpet. Lying on his belly, his face turned to the side, he could see that under his dining table needed to be dusted. There were cobwebs.
He’d have to talk to his cleaning woman.
“Old fool, thinking about cleaning when you’re lying on the floor. You really are frightfully gay.” He began to push himself up, but his wrist screamed in pain, and he fell back.
“I’ve fallen and I can’t get up. How fitting.” He sighed.
This time he rolled to the side, gathered his legs under him, and cradled his hurt wrist against his body. He used his good arm to push himself up to a sitting position.
Panting, he took a break. That had been hard work, but he felt less helpless.
He reached for the chair to steady him, not looking forward to heaving himself up on it. In fact, doubting he could do it at all.
Someone knocked on the back door. That’s right, Matt was due back. He almost laughed in relief, but then groaned with the realization that the boys, as he liked to call them, would fuss over him even worse than they already did.
No choice. “Come in, Matt.” He tried not to sound desperate.
Matt opened the french door from the patio and stepped inside. “Sebastian, are you ready for our next session?” He gazed around the room and then spotted Sebastian.
“Sebastian!” He rushed to his side and knelt. “Are you all right? What happened?”
He swept Sebastian into his arms, then lifted him as if he weighed nothing more than a five-pound bag of rice. Sebastian wrapped his good arm around Matt’s neck, and they headed to the bedroom.
“Oh my, you are strong!” Sebastian chuckled. “I haven’t had a handsome young man carry me to my bed in ages, lamb. I quite like it. We should do this more often.”
Matt’s face twisted in a wry grin as he laid him down carefully on top of the comforter. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to get Lane.”
“I’m fine, really, no need.” Sebastian tried to wave him off, but he knew that determined look in Matt’s eyes. “No need to upset Lane.” Lane would be worse. He knew that from experience. Lane was fiercely protective of him and had been even before they rode out Katrina together.
Matt disappeared. Sebastian felt his wrist, tried to move it, but the pain shot through him again, and he whimpered. A bad sprain, that’s all. He’d get Lane to wrap it up, and it’d be as good as new in no time.
Lane burst through the bedroom door. “Sebastian!” He halted, exhaled, and then calmly approached the bed. Sitting on the edge, he took Sebastian’s good hand in his and took his pulse.
“Strong, if a little fast.” Lane spoke to Matt as if Sebastian wasn’t there.
“Well, your heart would be all atwitter if you’d had a handsome young man carry you to your bed. Brought back old times, dearest.” Sebastian winked.
Lane rolled his eyes. “Let’s see that wrist.”
“No.” Sebastian clutched it to him even tighter. “It’s fine. Merely a sprain.”
“A sprain, huh?” Lane reached out and ran his hand over the now-swollen wrist. “Does this hurt?”
Sebastian blinked back the tears that sprang to his eyes at the gentle touch.
“Sebastian, let me see it.” Lane’s look brooked no refusal.
Sebastian held out his hand for Lane to inspect.
“I think it’s broken,” Lane said to Matt, who hovered nearby.
“I’ll get the car.” Matt was gone before Sebastian could say a word.
“No. No arguments. We’re going to the doctor’s. This wrist is broken, and you’re going to have to get it set and a cast put on it.”
“But….” Sebastian floundered. He was thankful he had Matt and Lane, but this made him feel every one of his seventysomething years. And he didn’t like feeling old. He fell back against the pillows.
“How did this happen?” Lane asked as he replaced Sebastian’s elaborately embroidered Chinese house slippers with a pair of socks and slipped deck shoes over them.
“I was sitting in the chair napping. I had dropped something, leaned over to pick it up, and fell out of the chair.”
“Did you get dizzy?” Lane frowned.
“Yes, when I reached down. The room took a spin, and I went with it.”
“You put your hand out to break your fall, right?” Now Lane had him sitting up, pulling off his smoking jacket, and replacing it with a cardigan.
Sebastian pushed Lane’s hands away. “Will you stop that? I can dress myself.”
Lane straightened. “Of course.”
A horn sounded. “That’s Matt. Come on, let’s go see the doctor and get that arm fixed.”
He helped Sebastian to stand and held out his arm for Sebastian to loop his through. Together they went to the car, with Lane locking up once he’d strapped Sebastian into the front seat. He trotted to the back seat, got in, and the car pulled away.
SEBASTIAN SAT in the examination room on the high paper-draped table and stared at all the posters on the walls. They were quite disturbing, really. Dissected eyeballs, open bellies showing all the organs crammed into them, even a poster explaining all about prostate trouble, complete with a well-drawn penis.
“At least I got the room with the good posters.” He pointed to the penis.
Lane looked up from the chair he sat in and smiled. “I asked for this one special.”
“Thank you. I haven’t seen one of those in ages. Forgotten what they looked like.” Sebastian winked.
“Oh, I doubt you’d ever forget.” Matt winked back. He stood against the wall. The tiny room was filled with men. The combined aftershaves were almost overpowering.
Sebastian hated going to see his doctor—only saw him once a year for his check-up—but there was no way out of this visit.
The doctor knocked and came in. “I have the X-rays. Bad news, it’s broken. Good news, it was a clean break, and with the cast should be good in about six weeks.” He smiled at Sebastian. “I’ll just get this cast on you, and you can go.”
He opened a cabinet and searched through dozens of plastic casts. “These will allow you to bathe with them on so you don’t need to worry about getting them wet.”
“Are those the only choices for casts?” Sebastian eyed the selection. “I want the dark blue one.” He pointed with his good hand.
“What, not the pink one?” Matt teased.
“Dear boy, I’m gay but discreet.” Sebastian cocked a gray eyebrow at him.
“Blue it is. Dashing, just like you, Sebastian.” Giving a playful wink, the doctor applied the cast with a minimal amount of pain, for which Sebastian was grateful.
After fitting Sebastian with a sling, he said, “I’m also writing a prescription for a painkiller, and one for blood pressure medicine. Your pressure isn’t high; it’s actually a little low. Probably why you got so dizzy. This should help with that.” He tore off the prescription and held it out to Lane.
“Thanks. We’ll get it filled today.” Lane nodded to him. “Can I speak with you, Doctor? Privately?”
Sebastian rolled his eyes. “No secrets, dear boy. Anything you want to ask my doctor, you can ask right here.” He wouldn’t be treated like an old man, not even by the ones who loved him.
Lane nodded. “You’re right, Sebastian.” He turned to the doctor. “Listen, you know Sebastian lives alone, although we are in the back building. We’re there every day to check on him, but I work and Matt’s got his work too. Sebastian is getting shaky, and I’m worried he might need someone there all the time.”
“All the time? In my home?” Sebastian reared back and glared at Lane. “I know you care, dear boy, but I’m not an invalid. I can still do for myself.” Fear crept into his chest, making it tight and sending his heart pounding. The one thing he feared was not to be at home when he passed. He wouldn’t be like Frank, dying in some hospital, hooked up to monitors, all dignity lost. “I don’t want anyone. I don’t need them.”
The doctor smiled. “I agree with Sebastian. I don’t think it’s time for that yet. It may come, but we’re not there.”
Lane frowned.
“I know you’re concerned, but I believe with the proper medications, you’re going to live for quite a while longer. Especially with these two fellows looking after you.”
Sebastian exhaled and stood, his arm in a sling. “I want to go home now.”
Matt pushed off the wall and held out his arm. “Let’s go. How about we stop for a milkshake on the way home?” He took the proffered arm and they left the office, Lane trailing behind.
“I’m not a child, Matt. I don’t need to be coddled.” Sebastian sniffed. “But a strawberry shake wouldn’t be bad. And maybe a burger? We could go to the drive-through while Lane gets the prescription filled.” He might be old, but he still had an appetite.
The boys laughed and got him settled in the car. Sebastian leaned his head back and closed his eyes.
It hadn’t been his time yet. In a way, he’d been disappointed. He didn’t want his life to end, but he’d comforted himself for years knowing that when he did pass, Frank would be there waiting for him. Welcoming him to a place where they could be together forever.
Just like Frank had promised.
“FOREVER. YOU promised forever,” Sebastian whispered. He had a tight grip on Frank’s hand, the one without the IV, and touched his lips to the back of it. Frank’s skin had yellowed, a sign of his failing liver.
Frank smiled at him from behind the oxygen mask. “We will be together, in a better place than this, beloved.” The words were labored, hard to hear, but Sebastian understood them.
“Yes. I promise.”
“Promise me you’ll go on. You won’t shut yourself off.” Frank squeezed his hand. “I know you, dearest. You’ll pine away, and you’re far too beautiful to waste away.”
“I promise.” At that moment he’d promise anything to make Frank happy, but he had no idea how he’d continue. Not without Frank. “It’s just so unfair.”
“Nonsense. There is no fair in life. Certainly not with this disease.”
Sebastian couldn’t hold back the tears. “I’d give anything to take your place. We both know this should’ve been me. By all rights I should be the one dying—” His words cut off as he choked back a sob.
“Shh. There, there.” Frank ran his hand through Sebastian’s now silvering hair. “It’s what it is. We live; we die. Some of us sooner than others.”
“I don’t care.” His voice had a distinctly whiny tone. “I can’t do this without you, Frank. I can’t keep living. I don’t know how. I’m not that strong.”
“Of course you do. There is great strength inside you, always has been. It’s one of the things I love the most about you.” Frank traced his finger over Sebastian’s cheek. “Promise me.”
“No.” Sebastian shook his head. “No.”
“Promise me you’ll carry on. Find someone else, even. Stay open to life’s possibilities. You’re still young.”
“Young? I’m fifty-two, Frank, and an old queen. Who’d want me?”
“Me. I’d want you no matter how old or queenly you were.”
Sebastian sobbed and held on.
“Please, beloved, I can’t leave without knowing you’ll be all right.”
When Sebastian’s tears subsided, he wiped his face on the sheets and nodded. “I promise.”
“Good. That’s better.” Frank exhaled, his frail chest rising and falling with the effort, struggling just to breathe.
A nurse came in, checked the monitors, and gave Frank and Sebastian a smile before leaving.
“It’s late and you should go.” Frank patted Sebastian’s arm.
“No, not tonight. I’m staying. They’ll have to toss me out.” Sebastian sat up. Frank had been worsening, and the doctors had pulled Sebastian aside two days ago to tell him it might not be long now.
“Suit yourself.” Frank tried to shrug, but his thin shoulders barely moved. The vital, big man he’d been had been reduced to flesh and bones as the cancer ate away at him.
Sebastian settled back in the chair, his hand still touching Frank’s, refusing to break contact with his lover.
“Remember the time we spent the summer at Gulf Shores?” Frank asked, his voice dreamy and far away.
“Yes. You woke me up early one morning and we went skinny-dipping in the ocean.”
“The crab? Do you remember?”
“Yes, the little bastard bit me on the toe.” Sebastian nodded.
“Language,” Frank warned, his voice fading.
Sebastian nodded again, trying to find his voice, afraid if he opened his mouth, only wailing would come out. He wanted to wail, to tear his clothes, to smash the room up, to rage against everything and everybody for taking Frank from him.
“I love you.” Frank’s whisper was like tissue paper crinkling. “Forever.”
“And I love you. Forever,” Sebastian replied.
Frank’s grip grew slack as his eyes closed. The monitor’s beep slowed. Sebastian closed his eyes tight, then opened them, fixed on Frank’s face. He stood and removed Frank’s oxygen mask, then leaned over and kissed him.
Barely warm, dry lips.
Sebastian climbed into the narrow bed and pulled Frank into his arms. When Frank took his last breath, Sebastian kissed him and let him go. Frank was free at last, free of the pain he’d suffered.
“Forever, beloved.”