The Last Handful of Clover - Book 2: Gifts Both Light and Dark

2.36 The Gorilla Always Wins

June 14, 1:07 am

As Howard lay awake in his cell, waiting and fearing Justin's arrival, Billy was sitting with Richard in Keith's bedroom.

On the way there, Richard hadn't spoken another word, and Billy was worried. The pair had jogged down State Street and then turned up South Temple, heading toward the Avenues. It was dark, and the streets were curiously deserted. Billy had kept two paces behind Richard, intuitively feeling that the man needed space to think. But he also hoped that Richard would turn around and say something to him, even if it was to rage at him for keeping him away from Keith for so long. But the walk was in silence, and Richard didn't even turn around to check if the other ghost was behind him. Billy had the feeling that the man really didn't care, one way or another. All he cared about was getting back to his husband and trying to avoid thinking about all the revelations Billy had been pouring into his brain for the last thirty-six hours.

It would be enough to break most men's spirits, Billy thought. It's no wonder he's needing some time to process it all.

But Billy also couldn't deny that Richard's mood, and the waves of emotions that were rolling off of him, were frightening. It was very possible that the man was near breaking, and if he did break and refused to help, then there would be very little hope for any of them. It would be even worse if his sanity snapped—and that felt like a real possibility.

Billy had followed Richard into the house and up the stairs to the bedroom, where they found Keith Woo asleep. Even in the dark Billy could see that Richard's husband was sleeping fitfully. His right hand was extended onto the pillow next to him, and it was alternately opening and closing, as if he kept expecting a hand to be there to grasp, and was surprised each time that it wasn't.

Without a word, Richard sat next to his lover, making himself as comfortable as he could on the hard surface. He leaned back on the bed's headboard and gently put his hand into Keith's.

To Billy's amazement, Keith's hand seemed to grip Richard's, even though it was impossible that the sleeping man could feel anything at all. He heard Keith take in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then he rested more easily. His breathing became slow and steady.

For the next several hours, Richard sat in silence. Billy made himself as comfortable as he could on the bench at the foot of the bed, where he could turn his head to look at Richard and Keith from time to time. But mostly he just looked out the window at the branches of the tree, illuminated in the yellow glow of the street lamp.

It wasn't until the red numbers on the bedside clock clicked over to 4:00 am, that Billy decided it was time to speak.

"Richard, you're scaring me. Are you okay?"

The man didn't respond, and in the gloom, it was impossible to tell if he had even heard Billy speak.

"Ever since we left Justin, you've been sinking into a deeper and darker place. I need to know if you're still here with me."

"Are you asking if I'm still among the living?" Richard said, but his voice was so quiet that Billy could barely hear him.

"I guess it's encouraging that you can make a joke," Billy said.

Richard was quiet for a long time, and the sense of despair that Billy felt emanating from his place against the headboard was enough to make him look away.

"Tell me what you're feeling, Richard. If you don't tell me, I can't help you."

"What makes you think, in your wildest dreams, that you could help me?" Richard said. His voice was flat, but at least he was speaking more forcefully.