Disposable Teens, chapter thirteen
At school, he wondered if anyone could tell. If they really were looking at him oddly, perhaps due to some unconscious change in his demeanour, or if his anxiousness had merely caused him to imagine it.
He waited after last period for Ray to come to the library. Waited until after Lucy had left, waited until the rest of the faculty had left. Waited until the janitor came and told him they were about to lock the doors. When he reached the parking lot, there wasn’t a single car left.
As he walked home, he contemplated taking a detour to the Vecchio house. The family would be back by now; their plane had been due at O’Hare that afternoon and the sheer number of them would warrant two taxis to take them and their luggage home. He could welcome them back, ask about their trip. But then, he’d probably be in the way. They’d have a lot of unpacking to do, and with the exception of Francesca, no doubt they’d find his unexpected presence a hindrance.
Instead, he waited until the next day to see Ray. And the next. By Thursday morning he was feeling a dreadful sense of déjà vu. He wondered if it was worth going to F-block himself to find out where Ray was.
It took him until Friday afternoon to work up the courage to do just that.
Ray was in his office. Two other teachers were busy in one of the small classrooms; the classroom door was open, as was the door to Ray’s office. When he walked in, Ray looked up, his eyes wide. Surprise? Worry? Ben found he couldn’t tell.
“Benny.” Ray hesitated in the middle of closing his briefcase, and Ben found he had no idea what it was he wanted to say.
“Hi, Ray.” He clasped his hands behind his back, then, when he realised it looked as if he was waiting for Ray to make the first move, settled for slipping them into his pockets. “How’ve you been?”
“Good.” Ray swallowed, then seemed to remember what he was doing and snapped his briefcase closed.
“Your family? Did they enjoy their trip?”
“Uh, yeah. Haven’t stopped talking about it all week.”
As Ray tidied up his desk, Ben could hear the distant conversation of the two teachers in the next room.
Eventually there was nothing left for Ray to clear away.
“This isn’t going to work, is it?” he asked, his gaze dropping to Ray’s briefcase. Ray pulled on his jacket, straightened his tie.
“I don’t see how it can.” Ray’s voice was hushed and, he hoped, a little sad. “I got my family to worry about. My career. Things’ve been going really good for me this past year. I haven’t done anything to screw up this job, but you’d be surprised the reasons they can find to fire a teacher.”
The unspoken intimation wasn’t meant to be hurtful, but to Ben it still felt like something was wrenching mercilessly at his insides. He risked a glance upwards, but Ray wasn’t looking at him.
“As simple as that, then?”
Part of him was urging him to fight, telling him there were plenty of reasons he could give for Ray to reconsider. But he remembered the last time he’d been faced with such a big decision. He hadn’t hesitated then, though he probably should have. Now, hesitation seemed so obvious. Rushing in wasn’t always a good idea.
“Best way.”
The briefcase he’d been staring at was snatched up. He blinked, a little startled. Ray stepped around the desk and walked past him, pausing a moment in the doorway.
“Look, Benny… I thought maybe I could do this, but…” He sighed. “Okay, so I’m a coward. Just the way it is. Don’t waste your time. I’m…It’s not worth it.”
Ray’s shoes made very little sound as he disappeared down the hallway.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The cold air that hit him when he stepped off the train caught him completely off-guard. It wasn’t the damp chill of a wet Chicago morning, but the bone-deep freeze of a land that saw little of the sun. His intention was to stay in town only long enough to stock up on supplies before hiking out to his father’s cabin, but finding his tolerance to the cold so diminished left him sorely tempted to stay overnight at the guest house by the train station.
Dismissing the thought as a product of self-indulgent melancholy, he shouldered his pack and set out in the direction of Foster’s General Store. He was pleased to discover that he still knew exactly how to get there, and the familiarity of the storefront and the layout of the shelves inside brought a sense of reassuring comfort.
Mr Foster was in front of the counter when he walked inside, a clipboard in hand, counting cans on a shelf. He glanced up at the sound of the bell that hung over the door, face lighting up in recognition when he saw Ben.
“Constable Fraser! Isn’t this a pleasant surprise. I had no idea you’d be passing through town.” He set his clipboard down on the counter and came over to shake Ben‘s hand, smiling widely.
“Good to see you,” he replied, managing a smile of his own. “Although I’m afraid it’s no longer ‘Constable Fraser’.”
Mr Foster scowled.
“You know, we heard about that but I couldn’t believe it. Lizzie said she’d seen on the news about that sergeant, that Gerrard fellow, and what he did.” As he talked, Mr Foster began collecting cans from the shelves, lining them up on the counter without question. Ben could see he was choosing the items he expected Ben had come for. “Anyone who brought him in ought to have been given a medal, not shipped out to foreign parts.” He said it with the sneer of townsfolk who thought anywhere that couldn’t be reached on foot in a day was ‘foreign’. “How did you find the States? You survived, obviously. Illinois, wasn’t it?”
“Chicago, yes.” Ben added a couple of items to the counter. “It was…an experience, certainly.”
“You going back there? Or you back home for good?”
Ben paused, hand half outstretched towards a bag of flour.
“I don’t expect I’ll be returning to Chicago.”
Mr Foster beamed.
“You know, it’s funny I should see you today of all days.” Satisfied that he had picked out everything Ben should need, he moved behind the counter to start ringing up Ben’s purchases.
“Why is that?”
“Well, it was only a couple of days ago there was someone in here asking after you.” Surprised, Ben stepped up to the counter, waiting expectantly for further explanation. “Yeah. Fellow ‘bout your age, maybe a little older. Long hair, kinda scruffy.”
The description didn’t ring any bells with Ben; he said as much to Mr Foster.
“Maybe it was someone who knew your father,” Mr Foster suggested with a shrug.
Ben paid for his supplies and stowed them carefully into his pack as Mr Foster updated him on town business and the weather forecast for the next few days. When Ben moved towards the payphone by the door, Mr Foster insisted that he come into the back to use his own telephone. After checking that Dief was fine and could be collected in a few days, he stayed long enough for a hot drink and a chat with Lizzie Foster before politely insisting that he had to set out immediately if he wanted to make his father’s cabin before it got too dark.
All during the hike, he racked his brain, trying to place the description Mr Foster had given of the man who’d been asking after him. He could only conclude that it had been an acquaintance of his father’s. The only people he knew locally would have known he was living in the states, and other than leaving a forwarding address with Vice Principal Young, no one in Chicago knew where he would be headed.
Young had been surprised by the receipt of his resignation letter, and surprised Ben with his sincere disappointment.
“The library’s changed for the better since you got here, Benton,” Young had told him the last time Ben had seen him. “It’s not the only thing around here that’s benefited.” Young didn’t mention Ray, and Ben couldn’t be entirely certain that that was what he’d meant.
Unlike the teachers, he wasn’t contractually bound to finish out the semester, and he’d been able to give a week’s notice. That gave him sufficient time to clear out his apartment, make arrangements for Diefenbaker and say goodbye to his neighbours, and he’d caught a plane the Saturday after he’d finished at school.
The grey sky was just beginning to grow dark when he arrived at the cabin. He paused by the post that marked the long path up to the cabin’s front door. The feeling wasn’t ‘home’ exactly; there were probably a dozen places he’d called home at some time or another, and he hadn’t really lived there with his father, just stayed occasionally when he was in the area, but there was a feeling of familiarity. Not any eerie kind of déjà vu; just a sense of knowing where everything was, of what to expect. It was comforting in its own strange way.
At this time of year, there wasn’t a full covering of snow, and the worn path to the cabin was clearly visible. But by the post, where a drift had not completely melted away, Ben could make out the edge of an imprint; a heavy boot, quite large. He knelt beside it to take a better look. It hadn’t been made by someone walking past. Someone had been standing there for quite a while.
He kept his guard up as he walked slowly up to the cabin, and even the sight of the undisturbed snow around the steps didn’t reassure him. He unpacked with the disturbing feeling that he wasn’t alone, even though there was obviously no one in the cabin or even anywhere near it.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Ben slept straight through the night, half a day’s hike enough to wear him out now. He’d have to work on remedying that. Of course, there was plenty of time for that now. As soon as he’d collected Dief, he would have to make sure they both worked hard to restore their fitness to their pre-Chicago levels. In the meantime, the cabin needed some work. It had been left empty for far too long. The maintenance would be enough exercise for the time being.
Once the bed was made and he’d dressed and eaten breakfast, he set to cutting timber. By lunchtime he’d built up a decent log pile and set aside enough wood for basic repairs. After lunch he repaired and reinforced the shutters on the windows, astounded that some of them had lasted through the winter, then set about giving the stove a thorough clean, scouring away the soot that would reduce its efficiency and make it more difficult to keep a fire going. He built up a new fire and cooked dinner, eating at the table where he was able to look outside at the darkening sky.
He’d almost finished eating when a noise from outside caused him to set down his fork and step outside.
There was no one there. Foolish of him to expect to see another human being out here, of course. Although he was certain it had been an engine he’d heard, there wasn’t a sign of a car or anything else. Wishful thinking, most likely. But he should have known better than to expect someone to come looking for him.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It happened again the next morning. Not an engine this time. A shout. It caught him by surprise, so that he couldn’t be sure afterwards if it really had been a woman’s voice like he’d first assumed. This time he didn’t go dashing outside straight away. Instead he sidled up to the window and peered out, scanning the path and then the tree-line for movement.
Nothing. No indication at all that anyone was out there.
He briefly contemplated going to look properly, then dismissed the thought. If anyone from town wanted him, they’d come up to the cabin. There was the chance, of course, that one of Gerrard’s associates had heard he had returned to Canada, but it was such a remote chance, and since Ben had never listed his father’s cabin as his own place of residence, the chance of them tracking him here was even more remote.
There was enough to do around the cabin and the barn that he could establish a routine over the next couple of days, and when all the major repairs were complete he hiked into town to make enquiries about getting a team of dogs to replace the one his father had kept. They’d been re-homed before his relocation to Chicago; training a new team would keep him occupied for some time. He would enjoy the distraction.
While in town, he also asked (as discretely as he could) if anyone else had asked after him lately. Mr Foster told him no, and the other townsfolk he spoke to confirmed that there had been no strangers passing through the town in the past few days.
He tried to put the thought out of his mind when he returned to the cabin, and for a while at least he lost the feeling that he was being watched. He made it to bed that night a little more reassured, as though he was once again comfortable alone. Strange how he could miss the sound of neighbours on the other side of a wall, of Mr Mustafi’s radio or Mrs Krezjapolou’s wailing grandson.
For a moment he thought that the sound of an engine outside was merely a part of his reminiscences. It took the slam of a vehicle door to rouse him fully from near-sleep. He quickly climbed out of the bed and pulled on his boots, pulled a sweater on over his union suit, then after a brief moment of indecision, grabbed his father’s rifle. It wasn’t loaded, but he hoped that the threat of it would suffice.
He didn’t look out of the window; the glow from the stove would provide enough light to make his face clear to whoever was outside. Instead he stood by the door, readying himself. The sharp rap on the door still made him jump a little. He raised the rifle before he opened the door.
“Oh, great. You’re the one who walks out without even a goodbye - how come I’m the one with a gun pointing at him?”
“Ray?”
He lowered the rifle, but was too stunned to move.
“You gonna let me in? Or is making me freeze to death some kinda punishment?”
Ben forced himself to stand to one side, allowing Ray enough room to step inside the cabin. He was dressed in a bright snowsuit, the kind designed for skiing vacations rather than every day life the Territories, with an oversized hat lined with faux-fur and expensive-looking boots. Ben wasn’t sure whether to laugh at the sight of him or feel pleased that Ray had spent so much money preparing to come see him.
He closed the door after Ray, then crossed the room to stow the rifle away and light the kerosene lamp and move it to the table. Ray stood by the fire, stamping his feet in an obvious effort to warm up. Immediately Ben thought of several interesting ways to warm him up; he squashed those thoughts down quickly.
Eventually Ray stopped moving and watched Ben expectantly, hands jammed into the pockets of his insulated trousers.
“Would it be redundant to ask how you are?” Ben folded his arms, his hands tucked under the sleeves of his warm Arran sweater.
“Depends what you expect me to say,” Ray answered, his voice sharp and unforgiving. “You want me to complain about the journey? About how I’m freezing my ass off right now? ‘Cause I can do that.” He seemed to just now realise that he still wore his hat, and yanked it off, rubbing at his hair. “You want me to yell at you for taking off and not telling me? You want me to call you a heartless son of a bitch for thinking I wouldn’t care? Or you want me to say I’m sorry and I screwed up? ‘Cause we both know that you know exactly what I’m gonna do.
Ben’s eyes widened in surprise.
“I don’t know what I should expect from you, Ray.”
Ray snorted in apparent disbelief.
“Oh? I think you know exactly what to expect. You give me that big-eyed, poor me look and I drop everything for you. You put that voice on and I can’t get my pants off quick enough. And the one time I try and follow my instincts, you take off into the wilderness without bothering to say goodbye so I gotta come running after you.”
Annoyed, Ben began to cross the room towards him, only stopping when he realised he had no idea what he’d do when he reached Ray. He threw up his hands in frustration.
“If you think I ever tried to manipulate you - “
“You might not call it manipulation,” Ray interrupted, “but you did a pretty good job of it. You got me trained real good, Benny.”
“I never set out to seduce you.”
“But it worked out pretty good for you anyway, right? You ring your bell and I’m drooling like your damn wolf.”
“You think this is what I want? Hiding away in empty houses and lying to everyone just to be near you?” He turned away, covered his mouth with one hand, exhaled deeply and tried to gather his thoughts. His head hurt a little from the stress of struggling to contain himself.
“Benny, don’t try and guilt-trip me here.”
“Guilt-trip you?”
“And don’t pull that Canadian innocence routine either.” Ray’s voice was raised to near-shouting now. For a moment Ben prepared to tell him to keep the noise down, remembering just in time that there were no longer any neighbours to disturb. “You know that’s how it would have been if we wanted to keep things - if we wanted to…you know, stay…” He waved his hands in some vague gesture. “Together.”
“I never asked you to hide, Ray.” He kept his voice deliberately low, hoping to counter Ray’s volume and maybe calm him a little. It worked, in a way; Ray sagged visibly and dropped his head.
“You know how difficult things would be if people knew.” When Ben didn’t answer, Ray looked up again. “Oh, come on. You telling me that those people down that town wouldn’t treat you like a leper if they thought you were up here fucking some guy?”
He tried not wince at Ray’s crudity, tried not to point out that the word he’d chosen was so inaccurate a description.
“My instincts weren’t telling me to hide.” He knew his words sounded trite, that he hadn’t been subjected to the same social pressures as Ray.
“Benny, we work with kids. Do you know what they’d be saying about us if anyone’d found out about us?”
He faltered; Ray had never voiced that particular fear before.
Upon seeing his shock, Ray’s expression softened a little.
“The world expects certain things when you work with kids. You can have a sex-life, as long as it’s a straight one and you’re married. Gay teachers are like gay priests. People talk.”
He wanted, more than anything, to agree with Ray, but there was one nagging thought at the back of his mind that still refused to give in. It was probably suicidal, would surely drive Ray out the door and all the way back to Chicago, but it demanded a voice.
“I do know what that’s like, Ray. Believe it or not, I spent a great portion of my life assuming that I had to live up to other people’s expectations. And then I was faced with an opportunity to do what would have made me happy rather than what I was expected to do.” He found himself suddenly aching inside at the memory, the experience that he hadn’t had to think about in so long. He drew a deep breath and it caught in his throat. “In the end, I did what was right, and not what I wanted. And I regretted it.”
Ray looked like he didn’t entirely believe him, but he didn’t try to contradict Ben.
“As soon as it was done, I wished I hadn’t done it. And afterwards, I wondered what my life would have been like.” He wrapped his arms around himself, trying not to give in to self-pity. “I don’t want - Ray, I can’t do that again.”
Although he was standing just a few feet away, it felt as though Ray were miles away. He remembered standing in the janitor’s closet at school, Ray almost literally falling into his arms, the satisfying sensation of holding Ray against him. Funny that feeling like that seemed more impossible when Ray was so near.
Ray scrubbed the flat of his hand over his hair, mussing it even more than his hat had already done.
“You keep doing this to me, Benny.” He didn’t ask for explanation, but Ray provided anyway. “You know exactly what to do or say to make me wanna - “ Ray sighed abruptly, made another uncertain gesture. In his defence, Ben raised both hands in apology, assuring Ray that he meant no harm. Slumping his shoulders in defeat, Ray shook his head. “I can’t do this now. I’ve been travelling all day. I’m exhausted.”
“You’re right.” He turned away, opened the trunk at the foot of the bed and pulled out his bedroll and a heavy blanket. “I realise it looks a little Spartan, but the bed is quite comfortable.”
“Benny, I’m not gonna make you give up your bed.” Ray made to take the blanket from him; without thinking, Ben turned away to stop him. “Jeez, Benny. I showed up without warning, didn’t think to bring a sleeping bag. You think I’m selfish enough I’ll kick you out of your own bed?”
Ben pursed his lips, fixed Ray with a wry look.
“No, I think you’ll let me be a gracious host.” He crossed the room and began, slowly and deliberately, to lay out the bedroll and blanket close to the stove. When he was done, he looked back up at Ray.
“Benny, if I weren’t so tired I’d kill you.”
He settled himself in the blankets, then allowed himself to listen as Ray fought his way out of his expensive snowsuit and climbed into bed. The ancient springs groaned a little, but then Ray sighed, presumably at its warmth.
For some time he listened to the crackle of the fire and to Ray’s steady, deep breaths. He hoped that the sounds would be enough to lull him to sleep, but it seemed that his mind just could not slow down enough to allow him that comfort. Soon he found himself turning restlessly under the blankets, wondering if he really had been half-asleep when Ray had arrived.
“Benny.” Ray’s voice was muffled; Ben could picture him huddled deep under the blankets, protecting himself against the cold. “Would you quit sighing and just get yourself over here?”
He turned himself so that he could see the bed. Sure enough, Ray had the blankets bunched up high behind his head, but he had shuffled right back against the wall, leaving enough room beside him for Ben to recognise the invitation.
“Uh, Ray, I’m not sure that’s - “
Ray cut him off with a sigh of his own.
“I already told you, I’m too tired to talk. Don’t think I can manage anything else. Or are you telling me you can’t control yourself? Is that it?”
Grateful that the cabin interior was too dark for Ray to see his reddening face, Ben paused only a moment before pushing himself up to his knees and then his feet. He brought the extra blanket with him and spread it out over Ray before climbing in beside him. He tried not to lay too close to Ray, but Ray stretched over to tuck the blankets around him, letting his arm rest around Ben’s waist. Ray mumbled something that sounded like his name, but it was lost in the creaking of bedsprings and the assorted snuffles and grunts as Ray settled himself in to sleep. Laying next to Ray didn’t help sleep to come any quicker, but Ben found that the wait was much more tolerable.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
He waited after last period for Ray to come to the library. Waited until after Lucy had left, waited until the rest of the faculty had left. Waited until the janitor came and told him they were about to lock the doors. When he reached the parking lot, there wasn’t a single car left.
As he walked home, he contemplated taking a detour to the Vecchio house. The family would be back by now; their plane had been due at O’Hare that afternoon and the sheer number of them would warrant two taxis to take them and their luggage home. He could welcome them back, ask about their trip. But then, he’d probably be in the way. They’d have a lot of unpacking to do, and with the exception of Francesca, no doubt they’d find his unexpected presence a hindrance.
Instead, he waited until the next day to see Ray. And the next. By Thursday morning he was feeling a dreadful sense of déjà vu. He wondered if it was worth going to F-block himself to find out where Ray was.
It took him until Friday afternoon to work up the courage to do just that.
Ray was in his office. Two other teachers were busy in one of the small classrooms; the classroom door was open, as was the door to Ray’s office. When he walked in, Ray looked up, his eyes wide. Surprise? Worry? Ben found he couldn’t tell.
“Benny.” Ray hesitated in the middle of closing his briefcase, and Ben found he had no idea what it was he wanted to say.
“Hi, Ray.” He clasped his hands behind his back, then, when he realised it looked as if he was waiting for Ray to make the first move, settled for slipping them into his pockets. “How’ve you been?”
“Good.” Ray swallowed, then seemed to remember what he was doing and snapped his briefcase closed.
“Your family? Did they enjoy their trip?”
“Uh, yeah. Haven’t stopped talking about it all week.”
As Ray tidied up his desk, Ben could hear the distant conversation of the two teachers in the next room.
Eventually there was nothing left for Ray to clear away.
“This isn’t going to work, is it?” he asked, his gaze dropping to Ray’s briefcase. Ray pulled on his jacket, straightened his tie.
“I don’t see how it can.” Ray’s voice was hushed and, he hoped, a little sad. “I got my family to worry about. My career. Things’ve been going really good for me this past year. I haven’t done anything to screw up this job, but you’d be surprised the reasons they can find to fire a teacher.”
The unspoken intimation wasn’t meant to be hurtful, but to Ben it still felt like something was wrenching mercilessly at his insides. He risked a glance upwards, but Ray wasn’t looking at him.
“As simple as that, then?”
Part of him was urging him to fight, telling him there were plenty of reasons he could give for Ray to reconsider. But he remembered the last time he’d been faced with such a big decision. He hadn’t hesitated then, though he probably should have. Now, hesitation seemed so obvious. Rushing in wasn’t always a good idea.
“Best way.”
The briefcase he’d been staring at was snatched up. He blinked, a little startled. Ray stepped around the desk and walked past him, pausing a moment in the doorway.
“Look, Benny… I thought maybe I could do this, but…” He sighed. “Okay, so I’m a coward. Just the way it is. Don’t waste your time. I’m…It’s not worth it.”
Ray’s shoes made very little sound as he disappeared down the hallway.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The cold air that hit him when he stepped off the train caught him completely off-guard. It wasn’t the damp chill of a wet Chicago morning, but the bone-deep freeze of a land that saw little of the sun. His intention was to stay in town only long enough to stock up on supplies before hiking out to his father’s cabin, but finding his tolerance to the cold so diminished left him sorely tempted to stay overnight at the guest house by the train station.
Dismissing the thought as a product of self-indulgent melancholy, he shouldered his pack and set out in the direction of Foster’s General Store. He was pleased to discover that he still knew exactly how to get there, and the familiarity of the storefront and the layout of the shelves inside brought a sense of reassuring comfort.
Mr Foster was in front of the counter when he walked inside, a clipboard in hand, counting cans on a shelf. He glanced up at the sound of the bell that hung over the door, face lighting up in recognition when he saw Ben.
“Constable Fraser! Isn’t this a pleasant surprise. I had no idea you’d be passing through town.” He set his clipboard down on the counter and came over to shake Ben‘s hand, smiling widely.
“Good to see you,” he replied, managing a smile of his own. “Although I’m afraid it’s no longer ‘Constable Fraser’.”
Mr Foster scowled.
“You know, we heard about that but I couldn’t believe it. Lizzie said she’d seen on the news about that sergeant, that Gerrard fellow, and what he did.” As he talked, Mr Foster began collecting cans from the shelves, lining them up on the counter without question. Ben could see he was choosing the items he expected Ben had come for. “Anyone who brought him in ought to have been given a medal, not shipped out to foreign parts.” He said it with the sneer of townsfolk who thought anywhere that couldn’t be reached on foot in a day was ‘foreign’. “How did you find the States? You survived, obviously. Illinois, wasn’t it?”
“Chicago, yes.” Ben added a couple of items to the counter. “It was…an experience, certainly.”
“You going back there? Or you back home for good?”
Ben paused, hand half outstretched towards a bag of flour.
“I don’t expect I’ll be returning to Chicago.”
Mr Foster beamed.
“You know, it’s funny I should see you today of all days.” Satisfied that he had picked out everything Ben should need, he moved behind the counter to start ringing up Ben’s purchases.
“Why is that?”
“Well, it was only a couple of days ago there was someone in here asking after you.” Surprised, Ben stepped up to the counter, waiting expectantly for further explanation. “Yeah. Fellow ‘bout your age, maybe a little older. Long hair, kinda scruffy.”
The description didn’t ring any bells with Ben; he said as much to Mr Foster.
“Maybe it was someone who knew your father,” Mr Foster suggested with a shrug.
Ben paid for his supplies and stowed them carefully into his pack as Mr Foster updated him on town business and the weather forecast for the next few days. When Ben moved towards the payphone by the door, Mr Foster insisted that he come into the back to use his own telephone. After checking that Dief was fine and could be collected in a few days, he stayed long enough for a hot drink and a chat with Lizzie Foster before politely insisting that he had to set out immediately if he wanted to make his father’s cabin before it got too dark.
All during the hike, he racked his brain, trying to place the description Mr Foster had given of the man who’d been asking after him. He could only conclude that it had been an acquaintance of his father’s. The only people he knew locally would have known he was living in the states, and other than leaving a forwarding address with Vice Principal Young, no one in Chicago knew where he would be headed.
Young had been surprised by the receipt of his resignation letter, and surprised Ben with his sincere disappointment.
“The library’s changed for the better since you got here, Benton,” Young had told him the last time Ben had seen him. “It’s not the only thing around here that’s benefited.” Young didn’t mention Ray, and Ben couldn’t be entirely certain that that was what he’d meant.
Unlike the teachers, he wasn’t contractually bound to finish out the semester, and he’d been able to give a week’s notice. That gave him sufficient time to clear out his apartment, make arrangements for Diefenbaker and say goodbye to his neighbours, and he’d caught a plane the Saturday after he’d finished at school.
The grey sky was just beginning to grow dark when he arrived at the cabin. He paused by the post that marked the long path up to the cabin’s front door. The feeling wasn’t ‘home’ exactly; there were probably a dozen places he’d called home at some time or another, and he hadn’t really lived there with his father, just stayed occasionally when he was in the area, but there was a feeling of familiarity. Not any eerie kind of déjà vu; just a sense of knowing where everything was, of what to expect. It was comforting in its own strange way.
At this time of year, there wasn’t a full covering of snow, and the worn path to the cabin was clearly visible. But by the post, where a drift had not completely melted away, Ben could make out the edge of an imprint; a heavy boot, quite large. He knelt beside it to take a better look. It hadn’t been made by someone walking past. Someone had been standing there for quite a while.
He kept his guard up as he walked slowly up to the cabin, and even the sight of the undisturbed snow around the steps didn’t reassure him. He unpacked with the disturbing feeling that he wasn’t alone, even though there was obviously no one in the cabin or even anywhere near it.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Ben slept straight through the night, half a day’s hike enough to wear him out now. He’d have to work on remedying that. Of course, there was plenty of time for that now. As soon as he’d collected Dief, he would have to make sure they both worked hard to restore their fitness to their pre-Chicago levels. In the meantime, the cabin needed some work. It had been left empty for far too long. The maintenance would be enough exercise for the time being.
Once the bed was made and he’d dressed and eaten breakfast, he set to cutting timber. By lunchtime he’d built up a decent log pile and set aside enough wood for basic repairs. After lunch he repaired and reinforced the shutters on the windows, astounded that some of them had lasted through the winter, then set about giving the stove a thorough clean, scouring away the soot that would reduce its efficiency and make it more difficult to keep a fire going. He built up a new fire and cooked dinner, eating at the table where he was able to look outside at the darkening sky.
He’d almost finished eating when a noise from outside caused him to set down his fork and step outside.
There was no one there. Foolish of him to expect to see another human being out here, of course. Although he was certain it had been an engine he’d heard, there wasn’t a sign of a car or anything else. Wishful thinking, most likely. But he should have known better than to expect someone to come looking for him.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It happened again the next morning. Not an engine this time. A shout. It caught him by surprise, so that he couldn’t be sure afterwards if it really had been a woman’s voice like he’d first assumed. This time he didn’t go dashing outside straight away. Instead he sidled up to the window and peered out, scanning the path and then the tree-line for movement.
Nothing. No indication at all that anyone was out there.
He briefly contemplated going to look properly, then dismissed the thought. If anyone from town wanted him, they’d come up to the cabin. There was the chance, of course, that one of Gerrard’s associates had heard he had returned to Canada, but it was such a remote chance, and since Ben had never listed his father’s cabin as his own place of residence, the chance of them tracking him here was even more remote.
There was enough to do around the cabin and the barn that he could establish a routine over the next couple of days, and when all the major repairs were complete he hiked into town to make enquiries about getting a team of dogs to replace the one his father had kept. They’d been re-homed before his relocation to Chicago; training a new team would keep him occupied for some time. He would enjoy the distraction.
While in town, he also asked (as discretely as he could) if anyone else had asked after him lately. Mr Foster told him no, and the other townsfolk he spoke to confirmed that there had been no strangers passing through the town in the past few days.
He tried to put the thought out of his mind when he returned to the cabin, and for a while at least he lost the feeling that he was being watched. He made it to bed that night a little more reassured, as though he was once again comfortable alone. Strange how he could miss the sound of neighbours on the other side of a wall, of Mr Mustafi’s radio or Mrs Krezjapolou’s wailing grandson.
For a moment he thought that the sound of an engine outside was merely a part of his reminiscences. It took the slam of a vehicle door to rouse him fully from near-sleep. He quickly climbed out of the bed and pulled on his boots, pulled a sweater on over his union suit, then after a brief moment of indecision, grabbed his father’s rifle. It wasn’t loaded, but he hoped that the threat of it would suffice.
He didn’t look out of the window; the glow from the stove would provide enough light to make his face clear to whoever was outside. Instead he stood by the door, readying himself. The sharp rap on the door still made him jump a little. He raised the rifle before he opened the door.
“Oh, great. You’re the one who walks out without even a goodbye - how come I’m the one with a gun pointing at him?”
“Ray?”
He lowered the rifle, but was too stunned to move.
“You gonna let me in? Or is making me freeze to death some kinda punishment?”
Ben forced himself to stand to one side, allowing Ray enough room to step inside the cabin. He was dressed in a bright snowsuit, the kind designed for skiing vacations rather than every day life the Territories, with an oversized hat lined with faux-fur and expensive-looking boots. Ben wasn’t sure whether to laugh at the sight of him or feel pleased that Ray had spent so much money preparing to come see him.
He closed the door after Ray, then crossed the room to stow the rifle away and light the kerosene lamp and move it to the table. Ray stood by the fire, stamping his feet in an obvious effort to warm up. Immediately Ben thought of several interesting ways to warm him up; he squashed those thoughts down quickly.
Eventually Ray stopped moving and watched Ben expectantly, hands jammed into the pockets of his insulated trousers.
“Would it be redundant to ask how you are?” Ben folded his arms, his hands tucked under the sleeves of his warm Arran sweater.
“Depends what you expect me to say,” Ray answered, his voice sharp and unforgiving. “You want me to complain about the journey? About how I’m freezing my ass off right now? ‘Cause I can do that.” He seemed to just now realise that he still wore his hat, and yanked it off, rubbing at his hair. “You want me to yell at you for taking off and not telling me? You want me to call you a heartless son of a bitch for thinking I wouldn’t care? Or you want me to say I’m sorry and I screwed up? ‘Cause we both know that you know exactly what I’m gonna do.
Ben’s eyes widened in surprise.
“I don’t know what I should expect from you, Ray.”
Ray snorted in apparent disbelief.
“Oh? I think you know exactly what to expect. You give me that big-eyed, poor me look and I drop everything for you. You put that voice on and I can’t get my pants off quick enough. And the one time I try and follow my instincts, you take off into the wilderness without bothering to say goodbye so I gotta come running after you.”
Annoyed, Ben began to cross the room towards him, only stopping when he realised he had no idea what he’d do when he reached Ray. He threw up his hands in frustration.
“If you think I ever tried to manipulate you - “
“You might not call it manipulation,” Ray interrupted, “but you did a pretty good job of it. You got me trained real good, Benny.”
“I never set out to seduce you.”
“But it worked out pretty good for you anyway, right? You ring your bell and I’m drooling like your damn wolf.”
“You think this is what I want? Hiding away in empty houses and lying to everyone just to be near you?” He turned away, covered his mouth with one hand, exhaled deeply and tried to gather his thoughts. His head hurt a little from the stress of struggling to contain himself.
“Benny, don’t try and guilt-trip me here.”
“Guilt-trip you?”
“And don’t pull that Canadian innocence routine either.” Ray’s voice was raised to near-shouting now. For a moment Ben prepared to tell him to keep the noise down, remembering just in time that there were no longer any neighbours to disturb. “You know that’s how it would have been if we wanted to keep things - if we wanted to…you know, stay…” He waved his hands in some vague gesture. “Together.”
“I never asked you to hide, Ray.” He kept his voice deliberately low, hoping to counter Ray’s volume and maybe calm him a little. It worked, in a way; Ray sagged visibly and dropped his head.
“You know how difficult things would be if people knew.” When Ben didn’t answer, Ray looked up again. “Oh, come on. You telling me that those people down that town wouldn’t treat you like a leper if they thought you were up here fucking some guy?”
He tried not wince at Ray’s crudity, tried not to point out that the word he’d chosen was so inaccurate a description.
“My instincts weren’t telling me to hide.” He knew his words sounded trite, that he hadn’t been subjected to the same social pressures as Ray.
“Benny, we work with kids. Do you know what they’d be saying about us if anyone’d found out about us?”
He faltered; Ray had never voiced that particular fear before.
Upon seeing his shock, Ray’s expression softened a little.
“The world expects certain things when you work with kids. You can have a sex-life, as long as it’s a straight one and you’re married. Gay teachers are like gay priests. People talk.”
He wanted, more than anything, to agree with Ray, but there was one nagging thought at the back of his mind that still refused to give in. It was probably suicidal, would surely drive Ray out the door and all the way back to Chicago, but it demanded a voice.
“I do know what that’s like, Ray. Believe it or not, I spent a great portion of my life assuming that I had to live up to other people’s expectations. And then I was faced with an opportunity to do what would have made me happy rather than what I was expected to do.” He found himself suddenly aching inside at the memory, the experience that he hadn’t had to think about in so long. He drew a deep breath and it caught in his throat. “In the end, I did what was right, and not what I wanted. And I regretted it.”
Ray looked like he didn’t entirely believe him, but he didn’t try to contradict Ben.
“As soon as it was done, I wished I hadn’t done it. And afterwards, I wondered what my life would have been like.” He wrapped his arms around himself, trying not to give in to self-pity. “I don’t want - Ray, I can’t do that again.”
Although he was standing just a few feet away, it felt as though Ray were miles away. He remembered standing in the janitor’s closet at school, Ray almost literally falling into his arms, the satisfying sensation of holding Ray against him. Funny that feeling like that seemed more impossible when Ray was so near.
Ray scrubbed the flat of his hand over his hair, mussing it even more than his hat had already done.
“You keep doing this to me, Benny.” He didn’t ask for explanation, but Ray provided anyway. “You know exactly what to do or say to make me wanna - “ Ray sighed abruptly, made another uncertain gesture. In his defence, Ben raised both hands in apology, assuring Ray that he meant no harm. Slumping his shoulders in defeat, Ray shook his head. “I can’t do this now. I’ve been travelling all day. I’m exhausted.”
“You’re right.” He turned away, opened the trunk at the foot of the bed and pulled out his bedroll and a heavy blanket. “I realise it looks a little Spartan, but the bed is quite comfortable.”
“Benny, I’m not gonna make you give up your bed.” Ray made to take the blanket from him; without thinking, Ben turned away to stop him. “Jeez, Benny. I showed up without warning, didn’t think to bring a sleeping bag. You think I’m selfish enough I’ll kick you out of your own bed?”
Ben pursed his lips, fixed Ray with a wry look.
“No, I think you’ll let me be a gracious host.” He crossed the room and began, slowly and deliberately, to lay out the bedroll and blanket close to the stove. When he was done, he looked back up at Ray.
“Benny, if I weren’t so tired I’d kill you.”
He settled himself in the blankets, then allowed himself to listen as Ray fought his way out of his expensive snowsuit and climbed into bed. The ancient springs groaned a little, but then Ray sighed, presumably at its warmth.
For some time he listened to the crackle of the fire and to Ray’s steady, deep breaths. He hoped that the sounds would be enough to lull him to sleep, but it seemed that his mind just could not slow down enough to allow him that comfort. Soon he found himself turning restlessly under the blankets, wondering if he really had been half-asleep when Ray had arrived.
“Benny.” Ray’s voice was muffled; Ben could picture him huddled deep under the blankets, protecting himself against the cold. “Would you quit sighing and just get yourself over here?”
He turned himself so that he could see the bed. Sure enough, Ray had the blankets bunched up high behind his head, but he had shuffled right back against the wall, leaving enough room beside him for Ben to recognise the invitation.
“Uh, Ray, I’m not sure that’s - “
Ray cut him off with a sigh of his own.
“I already told you, I’m too tired to talk. Don’t think I can manage anything else. Or are you telling me you can’t control yourself? Is that it?”
Grateful that the cabin interior was too dark for Ray to see his reddening face, Ben paused only a moment before pushing himself up to his knees and then his feet. He brought the extra blanket with him and spread it out over Ray before climbing in beside him. He tried not to lay too close to Ray, but Ray stretched over to tuck the blankets around him, letting his arm rest around Ben’s waist. Ray mumbled something that sounded like his name, but it was lost in the creaking of bedsprings and the assorted snuffles and grunts as Ray settled himself in to sleep. Laying next to Ray didn’t help sleep to come any quicker, but Ben found that the wait was much more tolerable.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~