35. Ofelia #2
“A couple?” He gives me a skeptical look. “Lars? Not really one for couple life, is he? In fact,” he says rather pointedly, “isn’t a trip to Miami the code Mickey and his friends use for getting laid as much as possible?”
It’s a measure of how upset my father is that he’d mention anything of the kind to me, of all people.
“Since Mickey’s romantic life is no business of mine,” I say tautly, “I wouldn’t fucking know. I’ll let Benny know you send your best wishes, shall I?” Returning his icy glare, I stalk off toward the elevator, aware that Dimitry is following close behind.
Because of course he is.
I’d forgotten just how suffocated I feel under my father’s “care.”
“He’s just worried,” Dimitry begins, as the elevator doors close behind us.
“Don’t bother trying to make excuses for him.” I punch the button for the ICU floor hard enough to almost break the damn thing. “You’ve made them all before, anyway.”
“Fair enough.” I can see him watching me out of the corner of my eye. “But you have to admit, Alexei doesn’t help his case, Ofelia. He should have at least been here when we arrived—”
“You don’t know a fucking thing about it,” I snap as the elevator halts and the doors open. “None of you do.”
“Then maybe you should start explaining it to us.” He falls into step beside me as I follow the signs to the waiting area. “Instead of acting exactly like your damn father and keeping it all inside.”
I come to an abrupt halt just outside the swinging doors. Through the window cut into them I can see Benny, sitting alone on a plastic chair, his head in his hands. Every inch of him emanates so much grief and defeat that all I can think of is being with him.
“Can you see my friend in there?” I tilt my head at Benny’s forlorn figure, and Dimitry nods, his face tightening.
“Right now,” I say furiously, “he is the only thing that matters to me. Him and the man currently fighting for his life on an operating table, who is not only one of my dearest friends, but Alexei’s closest in the world.
Imagine if it was Papa lying on that table. Or Abby.”
Dimitry pales, and I nod.
“Now imagine that you believe it’s your fault they are on that table.”
He physically tenses.
“Exactly,” I say coldly. “So before you start asking why Alexei didn’t show up for the family reunion, maybe instead start asking the question that won’t fucking leave me alone: how will Alexei ever forgive himself if Lars doesn’t wake up?
Then follow that question to the next logical but far more terrifying one. ”
I glare at Dimitry, too sad and angry to moderate my tone.
“What will Alexei do—or rather, what won’t he do—to avenge Lars’s death? And finally,” I say, staring at Benny’s bent head with my heart aching, “ask yourself this: what chance do I have of ever getting Alexei back when all this is done?”
I turn back to find Dimitry staring at me, his face stark.
“When you’re done contemplating all those questions,” I say quietly, “feel free to go and share them with my father. I’d love to hear any answers either of you might have. Because I have to tell you, Dimitry—right now, I can’t answer a single fucking one of them.”
I push through the doors, leaving him staring in my wake.
To my relief, he doesn’t try to follow me.
Benny’s head snaps up as I come into the waiting area, and he half rises from his chair. “Oh.” He sits back down heavily again. “I thought it was someone with news.”
“I’m sorry.” I sit down beside him and hand him the bottle of water I took from the car. “There hasn’t been any news, then, I take it?”
“Not really.” He shakes his head helplessly.
“A few hours ago the surgeon came out and told Alexei and me that it was beyond his abilities. He said there was a neurosurgeon in Rome, Dr. Moretti, who specializes in this kind of complicated surgery, but that she was currently in theater and they couldn’t get ahold of her.
” Benny gives me a faint attempt at a smile.
“Your fiancé wasn’t about to accept that, as you can imagine, so he got on the phone.
I have no idea how he did it or what it cost him, but less than two hours later this Dr. Moretti arrived.
She’s been in the operating room ever since, and apparently she will be there for several more hours.
Nobody is giving us any idea what the outcome might be.
Alexei said that’s likely because they don’t fucking know. ”
I can’t help but notice that there’s no trace of Benny’s customary acerbic tone when he talks about Alexei. I desperately want to ask if he knows where Alexei is, but I’m also horribly aware that my relationship problems are the last thing he’s focused on right now.
“He left to go and meet Mak,” Benny says dryly, watching me.
“I don’t know where, before you ask. For what it’s worth, I did tell him he should see you.
He said he couldn’t. His actual words were, I can’t.
” He mimics Alexei with a brief flash of his old camp style.
“Very Pirate Boy. Dramatic, with no hint of explanation.” He gives me the ghost of a smile.
“To be fair, he was fucked-up. Badly.” His smile fades.
“So badly I couldn’t even hate the prick,” he says quietly. “And believe me, I wanted to.”
“I’m glad he got the surgeon here, at least.” I take his hand. “How are you doing?”
Benny stares at the floor. “Not great.” He glances briefly at me.
“I didn’t even know Lars’s parents’ number to call them,” he says quietly.
“Do you know how that made me feel? I’ve spent almost every night in Lars’s bed for months now, and I don’t even know his parents’ first names, let alone their number to call.
Until Alexei turned up with all his bratva macho shit, the receptionist wouldn’t even tell me if he was alive or dead.
What does that say about our relationship? ”
I squeeze his hand. “I think it says you have a very normal twenty-first century relationship, Benny, whether straight, gay, or otherwise. And if you’ve spent that many nights in Lars’s bed, you’re definitely the most significant romantic relationship he’s ever had.
So what if you don’t know his parents’ names?
” I cast my eyes skyward in a poor attempt at humor.
“Believe me, there’s a lot to be said for leaving parents right out of a relationship, if you ask me. ”
“Ha.” He dashes tears away from his eyes. “Lars always said the same thing. Alexei managed to track them down eventually, somewhere way off the Australian coast on a boat of some sort.”
“They’re marine biologists,” I explain. “They were always off on research trips when Lars was young. It’s why he spent so many holidays with Alexei back when they were at boarding school.”
“Yeah.” Benny gives a humorless laugh I don’t quite understand. “That’s why.”
“Where’s Lourdes?” I look around. “I thought she’d be in here with you.”
He shakes his head. “I haven’t seen her.”
I feel the first prickling of alarm. “She came down ahead of me, with Jack. I hope nothing has happened—”
“Oh, for Chrissakes.” Benny rubs a hand over his face, looking half amused, half irritated. “She still hasn’t told you, has she? No,” he answers his own question. “She wouldn’t have wanted to upset you.”
“Told me what?”
He tilts his head toward the elevator. “If you go two floors down and visit your brother, I’m sure you’ll find Lourdes.
Oh, dear lord,” he says in exasperation when I look confused.
“Why do you think Lourdes was on that yacht, Ofelia? Because she fancied hanging out with two gay boys having a torrid affair?”
I stare at him. “Wait,” I say slowly. “Do you mean that Lourdes—and Mickey—”
But I don’t need to finish the sentence before the pieces start falling into place:
All the sudden recitals in London—that she didn’t want me to come to.
Her eyes shining after my performance in Granada: “Mickey! Tell your sister how amazing she was . . .”
The way she looked at him when we fought back on the yacht, her soft touch on his arm as she murmured, “Cuidado . . .”
Of course, Lourdes and Mickey.
I’ve just been too damn blind and self-involved to see it.
Benny slow claps, giving me an extremely sardonic look.
“I hate to think how long that would have taken. Lars and I had money on it, actually—” He cuts off abruptly and slumps forward, face in his hands, all trace of humor gone.
“What the fuck am I going to do,” he says brokenly, “if he doesn’t make it?
How can I finally have met the love of my life—only to lose him, just like that? ”
I put my arm around his shoulders. At first he tenses under my touch, but I leave my arm where it is, and eventually he drops his head and begins to cry.