“Um, well…” Sam fingered his napkin, unable to meet Henry’s eyes.
“Holy shit. You haven’t told him, have you? What were you going to do, have him find you dead in the bed one day, or never come home like his father? You’re acting like a fucking selfish asshole, Sam; I don’t know you anymore.”
“I don’t know me either.” Sam swallowed hard. “I’m scared, Henry. I don’t want to die.”
The anger drained from Henry’s face, replaced with a compassionate certitude. “I know. But don’t give up the best thing to ever happen to you when Zach can only help you. Go home and tell him now. That’s what being a life partner is.”
Henry finished his coffee and stood. “I told Heather I wouldn’t be long; I don’t like leaving her alone; she’s been having little pains, which is normal in the early stages, but still…”
“I’m sorry she’ll have to miss the wedding.”
“Uh, who said that? She’s determined to be there if I have to carry her.”
Which Sam knew Henry would do, to the ends of the earth. He’d do anything for her. Like he would for Zach. Henry was right: he needed to tell Zach everything. Now.
“Thanks, Henry. I’m going to go home and talk to Zach.”
Henry smiled. “Good. Let me know how it goes.”
Sam gave him a tight, grim little smile.
*
“Zach, you home?”But even as Sam called out into the apartment, he knew Zach wasn’t there. He probably had more last-minute wedding stuff to do, Sam thought, tossing his coat over the sofa and kicking off his shoes. Sam was a terrible groom. All he wanted was to get married, have a kick-ass party, and go home and make love to Zach all night long. Settling back into the sofa pillows, he absently rubbed his chest.
Provided he could still do that, of course. Zach had brushed off his inability to get hard that night, yet he couldn’t dismiss something so major, so easily. He wasn’t eighty for Christ’s sake; he’d just turned forty-two. His chest hurt, and with a guilty start he remembered he’d forgotten to pick up the new prescription from the drugstore. After he and Zach had their talk whenever Zach got home, he’d go.
Right now though, he should take the pill he had. Henry was right. He was being a schmuck by not following the doctor’s orders. Zach wouldn’t leave him because of this heart issue, and as long as he took care of himself, he’d be fine.
Satisfied that he’d finally made the right choices for once, Sam got up and got a bottle of water from the refrigerator to take his medicine. He fished the pill bottle out of his coat pocket and placed it on the kitchen counter, next to a bunch of papers. Afraid he’d get them wet, Sam picked them up to move them out of the way when he spotted the words “Contract of Sale” on the top of one. Shuffling through the pages, he came upon more official documents entitled, Deed, Closing Statement, Title Insurance…
With growing confusion, Sam returned back to the top document. He walked back into the living room and sat on the sofa, and read through them more carefully, in total disbelief as to what he was looking at. At the sound of keys jangling in the lock, he stood and waited, silent as a watchman.
Zach burst in through the front door and raced to the kitchen, skidding to a stop when he saw Sam standing.
“Oh, hey, I didn’t know you were home.”
Sam said nothing, but by now, after living with Zach all these months, he knew the telltale signs of Zach’s nervousness. One hand played with the rim of his glasses, adjusting them several times before he set them securely on the bridge of his nose, while the other hand swept through his hair. Zach’s gaze zeroed in on the empty kitchen counter, returning to Sam and the sheaf of papers in his hand.
The joyful smile on Zach’s face faded, replaced by an almost fearful look.
“Um. Did you look through them?”
Without answering, Sam closed the distance between them in three long strides. “Tell me what I’m reading here isn’t real, or that it’s nothing. Tell me you didn’t pay three million dollars for a house in Quogue.”
“I can explain. Let’s sit—”
“Sit?” His heart thundered in his chest, but Sam paid it no mind; for the first time in their relationship he was livid with Zach. “You mean it’s true? You bought a house—a housewithout telling me, and paid three fucking million dollars for it, and you want to sit and talk about it?” Ignoring the pain tightening his chest, he laughed. “I don’t fucking believe this.”
“I did it because we always talked about buying a house.”
“Yeah, we did. We. Us.” It was one of his dreams,theirdreams. “I thought it was one of the things we’d do together after we got married. Not something you’d sneak off behind my back and do.” He rubbed his chest, the pain coming in sharp, bright bursts. He needed one of those other pills, for when the pain intensified, but they were in his night-table drawer.
“I didn’t sneak off.” Zach paced the room. “I wanted it as a surprise for you. So after the wedding I could take you there and show it to you.”
“Show me what? The houseyoubought. For three million dollars? Jesus Christ, I can’t afford something like that on my retirement pension, you know that.” He took deep breaths, hoping to quiet the staccato beat of his heart. It hurt so much, but Sam wasn’t sure if it was from his medical issue or Zach’s betrayal.
“No, I did it because I knew how much you wanted it. It’s my way of giving us our dream. It’s such a perfect house; I know you’ll love it,” Zach pleaded with him, but Sam didn’t want to hear.
