Zinger

Our first night on the coast, we had two rooms. But, that was futile. Kurt and Kyle would not leave our room, so they slept with us in our bed. We all slept on our left sides . . . Teddy, me, Kurt, Kyle. My arms were long enough that I reached around both Kurt and Kyle.

The next day, we cancelled the Ks' room. There was no reason to waste the money; Kurt and Kyle were definitely staying with us. It was not the honeymoon I expected (Teddy and I were never alone), but it was the honeymoon I needed.

We stayed on the coast for two weeks. As our trip was coming to an end, I noticed that Teddy seemed thinner. I asked him about it.

"Are you losing weight?"

"No, why?"

"When I put my head on your chest, you seem thinner. I think you are losing weight."

It was a harmless observation. Five months later, I was alarmed. Teddy was thinner than I ever remembered, even though I knew he was working out daily. I addressed it at Thanksgiving, a holiday for which Mathew and Mark deigned to grace us with their presence.

It was Thanksgiving Eve, and Teddy and I had just made furtive love. We were coming down, and my head was on his chest. As I looked down him, he seemed skinny. Too skinny.

"Teddy, you are too thin."

"I can't keep weight on. I eat and work out and just get thinner."

"That's not right."

"I know."

"You need to go to the doctor."

"I know, but I'm scared."

"There's no reason to be."

I would turn out to be very wrong.

Matthew and Mark were borderline tolerable during their visit. It was clear Kurt and Kyle reveled in their presence. And, it was clear their father loved having them home, and they loved being with him. It was equally clear they did not enjoy me, and I did not enjoy them. In fact, I thought they were dicks. I'm sure they thought the same of me.

We dropped Matthew and Mark at Midway on Sunday. With their grumpiness toward me absent from the house, we had a great Sunday night. Kurt and Kyle were talkative at dinner, and we played Risk after. It had been my favorite game as a child, and I had taught the Ks to enjoy world domination.

Once the Ks were settled in their rooms, Teddy and I settled into ours. I could tell he was horny. While I was brushing my teeth, he pulled my boxers down and started licking my ass. When I leaned over to spit, he started rimming me. When I had had as much as I could take, I turned around and pulled Teddy to his feet. I sucked his nipples as I undid the tie on the scrubs he was wearing, freeing his now rock hard dick. My tongue followed his path to paradise. I licked the precum from his piss slit and took him in my mouth. I took him to the base and started milking him. I could feel him getting close, but he stopped me and pulled me up. He kissed me and led me to our bed. Once there, he worked us into a 69 and we started sucking each other in rhythm. We had not done this in ages, but we were still good at it. We came at the same time, filling each other's mouths. We both swallowed, but neither of us pulled off the other. We went soft in each other's mouths. I was almost asleep when I heard Teddy say "come up here." I did. He kissed me goodnight, and I fell asleep with my face in his chest.

The next morning, Teddy fucked me missionary style before the Ks banged on our door to rouse us. It was familiar, but still fantastic. We stared into each others eyes the entire time. Right after he came, he pulled out and took me in his mouth. I filled his throat almost immediately.

Teddy unlocked the door, slipped back into his scrubs, and tossed my boxers to me. The Ks predictably joined us in bed a few minutes later. They climbed in bed with us almost every morning, even if only long enough for us to say the Serenity Prayer as a group.

Once we got the Ks off to school, I went with Teddy to our doctor. We jointly discussed his weight loss. Then, Teddy surprised my by mentioning recurring back pain I had never heard about before.

We were there way longer than I expected. I had a feeling of foreboding when we left. They had run test after test after test. They had not said anything remotely optimistic. They seemed to be cushioning us, at least in retrospect. I think they knew what was coming and tried very hard not to alarm us until they were sure.

They called us back in later that week, and we heard words no one should ever hear in the same sentence . . . cancer . . . pancreas . . . advanced. Pancreatic cancer is awful. When they find it early-which almost never happens-the victim has little chance. When they find it late-as they had with Teddy-the victim has no chance.

Our once bright future was now not bright at all. It was dark, clouded and shrouded by Teddy's unavoidable and imminent death.

We tried to shield the Ks, but we could not. They were smart and perceptive and incisive and knew the mood on Hastings had changed dramatically. But, we did not know how to tell them. They had lost one parent to cancer, and now they were going to lose another to the same dreaded disease.

With no good option, we decided to be as direct as we could. Of course, they were afraid and they cried. Once they knew, the three of us cried and cried and cried together, shielding their father whenever we could but overwhelming each other with our shared grief.

We did not try to shield Matthew and Mark. We brought them into the loop immediately. Like the Ks, they were shattered. The truth was revealed; they were happy to be rebels so long as their rebellion bore little or no consequence. Their tone and attitude changed immediately.

The six of us had a somber, joyless Christmas. But, the break brought us all closer together. Matthew and Mark moved past their resentment of me and enjoyed their father and brothers.

Teddy wanted things to stay as normal as they could. I did not. I convinced him not to send M&M back to New Hampshire for the Spring semester. I thought they should spend whatever time their father had left with him.

I also took a leave of absence from the bench. I'd have been a useless judge in any event, my heart and mind wandering elsewhere when I should have been focused on the litigants and the issues before me.

We spent our days together, pretending through games of Monopoly and Risk and Trivial Pursuit that we were not engaged in a long, sad good-bye.

Teddy did not last long. He wasted, his body leaving us long before his mind.

He died in our house in February. It was the middle of the night, so I was the only one with him.

I was curled up beside him in bed. He was emaciated. He was no longer Teddy.

I held his bony body. I told him I loved him more than I had ever loved anyone or anything. I cried into his neck.

I felt his labored breathing. I felt his last labored breath.

I held him. He was gone, but I held him. He was dead, but I held him.

Our life together was over, but I held him.

Part Sixteen

I had to tell his boys. I probably should have told them when it happened, but I could not. I wanted that experience all to myself. I was selfish.

I pulled away from what was Teddy and got dressed. I put on his scrubs and my red tank. Then, I went into M&M's room. It was empty.

I went into the Ks' room. The four of them were camped out on the floor, between the beds. It was a beautiful sight-four brothers who loved each other deeply-and I had to shatter it with terrible news.

I decided to play it slow. I crawled into the foursome. I sat with my back against the bed. Kurt and Kyle stirred and put their heads in my lap. I stroked their hair.

Matthew was the first to wake up. He sat up and looked at me and knew. He cried, and I did, too. Matthew shook Mark awake. Matthew's tears betrayed what had happened. Mark sat up, buried his face in Matthew's shoulder, and started to sob.

Kurt and Kyle woke up. I pulled them into me.

I choked out "your dad's gone" between my own sobs. Kurt and Kyle cried into my shoulders. Matthew and Mark moved toward us and buried themselves in their brothers. I wrapped my arms around as much of them as I could. We were united in our grief. We cried until we could not cry any more. Then, we just huddled silently, not wanting the reality of Teddy's death to register as it would when we broke our huddle and started dealing with what we wanted to pretend had not happened.

* * * * *

With all of the notice, Teddy left little for us to do. We cremated his body and planned to fulfill his wish of being sprinkled in the ocean of Ogunquit. We had a small gathering for our friends and for Teddy's brother and sister and their families.

Teddy's sister brought notes from him for each of us. As was typical of Teddy, the notes were brief and pointed. Teddy was not a writer. Mine said only "Thank you for the second chance. Please take care of our boys. They need you." "Our" was only three letters, but those three letters were so important to me.

The boys' was a joint note. It said only "You were the best part of my life. I am sorry to leave you. Please take care of Kevin. He needs you."

Teddy's estate bound us together even more than his death had, as he left me a substantial lump sum and a trust that paid an annual income to me and then vested in the boys when I died. The annual income was multiples of what I earned as a judge.

I worked with Matthew to plan a life after Teddy for the five of us. I figured the only way Matthew and I would peacefully co-exist was if we were partners, and he did not feel like I was trying to parent him or to replace either of his lost parents.

I figured right. Matthew and I had long talks about Kurt and Kyle and what they would need from me, him, and Mark moving forward. They had lost a lot in their brief lives, and I insisted to Matthew that they could not and should not endure a schism between the most important people left for them, namely me and the M's. Matthew agreed. The last brick fell.

I told Matthew I thought I should resign my judgeship. I also told him I thought we should leave our house and Evanston. I wanted a fresh start in a new place where the hint of Teddy did not lurk in every corner, reminding us all of what we had loved and lost.

I did not know where to go. It was liberating to be able to go anywhere, but it was also overwhelming. I like options, but too many options can be paralyzing.

Kurt offered the best solution. He wanted to go to Costa Rica, as he had read that Costa Ricans were the happiest people in the world. And, he thought we needed to be in the easiest place there was to be happy. So, Costa Rica it was. We used Rosetta Stone and a private tutor to learn Spanish and made some scouting trips. We settled on Makanda, in the rain forest above Quepos.

We bought a beautiful house with a pool and prepared to move. Before we did, we went to Maine for a weekend to say a final good-bye to Teddy. We each had a share of his ashes, and we each said good-bye in our own way. The boys flung their shares high into the breeze and watched them disperse quickly. I sprinkled mine into the waves and watched them slowly drift away.

It had been hardest telling Thom we were leaving. With Teddy gone, he was my longest friend, having been with me for law school at Northwestern, where he now taught Antitrust and other classes. We had tried being together once, early on. But, it had not been right, at least not for me. I was still young and had not moved past Teddy, and we had not tried again when Teddy receded over the years. We were best friends, but that was it.

Thom had been a rock through Teddy's illness and death. I had to be strong for the boys and Teddy, but I could be weak with Thom. I cried into his ear too many nights when we both should have been asleep and not on our mobiles. He was a great listener, and he knew not to offer the usual pablum about it all being alright that folks tend to offer in tragic times when they do not know what else to say.

Thom was angry when I told him we were leaving. Oddly so. Still, he helped me ship our lives from Evanston to Makanda, and he accompanied us to the airport when we left. We both cried at security when we had to part. In 18 months, my life had transformed: I had gone from a single, professional man living alone in downtown Chicago to a wealthy "father" of four living in a foreign land.

*****

We settled relatively easily into life in Makanda. Of course, money makes a transition like that far simpler than it would otherwise be.

The boys decided they all wanted to go to the same school. We found a private one that catered to expats. It was pretty far from our home, but I trusted Matthew's and Mark's driving skills, even over the winding Costa Rican roads.

I thought we would be too busy to get lonely, but I was wrong. While I enjoyed the boys very much, I longed for adult company, especially when the boys were in school.

I invited Thom for Christmas. After various fits and starts, he ended up coming from December 3 (his last exam was December 2) to December 23. That way, we'd get a long visit, but he'd still be in Nashville with his parents for Christmas.

Thom's arrival finally brought some familiarity to my life. It was like finding an old sweater.

His first night, Thom fell asleep outside in a chaise. I thought of leaving him there overnight, but I feared it would startle him to wake up outside in the middle of the night. I ushered him to the guest room. While I was tucking him in, he asked me to stay with him until he was back asleep. I crawled into bed next to him, and he put his head against my shoulder. I woke up like that hours later, still in my jeans and fleece pullover. I looked over at Thom. His blonde hair had partied while we slept, and he had drooled on his pillow. Still, he was adorable, his sleeping, placid face innocent and untroubled.

I slid my arm out from under him and headed to my room. I did not want the boys to find us in the same bed, innocent or not.

Thom's visit raced by. We slept and read and ate and drank and took long walks and even longer naps. It is amazing how much time doing nothing can take.

I was sad to see him go. To my surprise, so were the boys. Thom had always made friends easily, and he was no different with the boys.

Christmas Eve, Matthew and I were the last two up. We were silently wrapping gifts and drinking wine together. Matthew broke the silence.

"Did you and Thom sleep together while he was here?"

I was stunned by the question. And, I was not sure it was any of his business, But, I also knew there were only two answers to that question: "no" and everything else, all of which would be interpreted as "yes."

"No."

"Why not?"

"We're not like that with each other?"

"Were you ever?"

"A long time ago. Briefly. But not really."

"What happened?"

"We were young, and I was still pining for your father. I spent most of my youth-including all of college and law school-waiting, hoping, praying for your father and closing myself to others because they were not him."

The silence returned. Matthew broke it again.

"We think you should."

"Should what? And, who is 'we'?"

"Sleep with Thom. All of us. We talked about it. We like Thom, and he likes us. And, it's clear he likes you. You should like him."

"He does not like me like that."

"Yes, he does."

I talked to Thom later that night. As we were every year, we were on the phone when Christmas Eve turned to Christmas Day, at least in Thom's time zone. I relayed the odd conversation with Matthew from earlier that night.

"They're right," Thom said. "I do like you . . . . like that."

I was caught off-guard. "Since when?"

"Since forever."

"Why didn't you ever say anything?"

"I did. We dated. But, you were looking backward to Teddy, not forward with me. Or with anyone else for that matter. So, it didn't work. Then, we settled into a great friendship. I was certain it would develop into more at some point, but you wouldn't let it. There was just no room for anyone else, and I wanted a lover, not a fuck buddy. I settled for a friend. A great friend."

"Gosh, Thom, I never knew."

"Of course you didn't. I was not going to give you that kind of power. Or, that kind of burden. It would have gotten in the way."

As we often did, we stayed on the phone, listening to each other breathe. I fell asleep. Thom woke me up, "Merry Christmas, Kevin. I love you."

"Merry Christmas to you, Thommy. I love you, too."

The boys and I had a joyous Christmas on the public beach near the national park. The beach was packed. The people-especially the children-were joyful. So were we.

I thought of Teddy a lot throughout the day. But, I also thought of Thom, reviewing our years of friendship through the hindsight of the conversation of the night before.

In February, we had a simple ceremony to mark the anniversary of Teddy's death. I had asked each boy to choose their favorite picture of their father, and I had them matted and framed together in birth order, one copy for each of them (and one for myself, although I did not tell them that). For the top picture, Matthew chose a picture of Teddy alone, looking away from the camera, deep in thought. It was essential Teddy.

For the second picture, Mark chose one of Teddy, him, and Matthew from the trip that took them away to school. They were all leaning against the car and posed the same way, like hoodlums in the modern day.

For the third and fourth pictures, Kurt and Kyle wanted to choose pictures of the four of us from the wedding. But, I convinced them to choose something else, afraid the wedding pictures would make M&M regretful for choosing to skip it. So, Kurt chose a picture I had taken of him and his dad as Teddy snapped a selfie of the two of them. It was a beautiful, whimsical picture.

And, Kyle chose a picture of Teddy and me from our trip to the Amalfi coast. It was not a great picture, but I think Kyle wanted me represented in the collection.

Once they opened their "gifts," I had each boy write down their favorite memories of their father, fold the papers on which they were written neatly into an envelope, and tape their envelope to the back of their gifts for safekeeping. I explained that, years from now, they would discover the memory envelope-maybe when unpacking a box or when moving to a new house-open it, and be reminded of their father. And, they would smile, reminded of what was and what should have been.

We had learned a lot in the year since Teddy died. We had learned that grief does not end, it just changes. We had learned that grief was not a place, but a process. We had learned that, while we'd have given anything to have Teddy with us, we were better people-toward each other and toward others-for having experienced and survived his death. And, we had learned that we needed each other. A lot.

*****

I invited Thom down for his Spring Break. We did not discuss whether the invitation was for more than a visit, and I was not sure if it was or it wasn't. I cautioned the boys against thinking it was more than a visit, but-of course-their imaginations galloped ahead of the facts.

When Thom arrived, Kyle took his bag to my room, not to the guest room. When I told him to move it, Matthew smiled and said "Let's wait and see."

Thom and I were the last ones up, again outside in the lounge chairs. I raised the subject.

"Kyle put your things in my room."

"What do you think about that?"

"Seems aggressive."

"We can share a bed without anything happening. We have gobs of times over the years."

"I know. But, those times, there was not even a possibility of something happening. So, the situation was not fraught."

"Thanks."

"You know what I mean."

"Yes, I have known for 25 years."

"About that, why didn't you make your desires more clear."

"I couldn't compete with the possibility of Teddy. A ghost is one thing. A ghost can't return and spoil things. But, a possibility is quite another. A possibility can crash the party at any time."