“How long have you been staring at me?” Ellen murmured, her eyes barely open.

“I don’t know. An hour or so.”

“Geez Louise. Turn on the television.”

“I’d rather watch you.”

She rolled over, tucking the sheet under her arms. “I bet my breath is atrocious.”

“Like sweet lotus flowers,” he said, leaning forward to give her a kiss. “Ambrosia. Nectar of the gods.”

“You only think that because you have a vivid imagination.”

“I only think that because I love you.”

Her eyes sparkled. “And when did you decide that?”

Ben inched forward, throwing his leg over her hips. “The first moment I laid eyes on you.”

“Oh, right.”

“True.”

“In that little coffee shop on Yonge?”

“Where you played guitar and wore that punk leather skirt. Fabulous.”

“And you thought right then and there you were going to have me?”

“I thought right then and there that you would probably never let me anywhere near you. But I had to try.”

“I’m glad you did.”

He leaned forward again, and this time the kiss lasted for a long, mutually stimulating minute. After their lips parted, Ellen suddenly coughed, a deep throaty cough that grew in size till she was racked by the strain. It was at least a minute before she was able to stop.

“Are you all right?” Ben asked, his forehead creased with concern.

“Fine, fine,” she assured him. “Just swallowed wrong or something. So what’s our plan for the day? Shopping at Eaton? Movie at the Bloor? Maybe the Harbourfront?”

“I’d rather stay in bed with you.”

“Even you might run out of steam after a while, lover boy.”

“We can just cuddle. I don’t care. Just so we’re together.”

Her forehead crinkled. “Man, you really are in love, aren’t you? Is there anything I can do to help?”

He nodded. “Marry me.”

She looked at him for a long time. “Peanut butter and jelly!”

“The traditional responses are yes or no.”

She giggled. “Peanut butter and jelly.”

“What the heck is that supposed to mean?”

Under the covers, she wrapped her arms around him and squeezed tight. “You and me, kid. Because we’re so much better together than apart. And now that we’ve been stuck together, we can never be entirely separated.”

By seven-thirty, the sun was setting. Everyone had eaten and returned to the playing fields. Loving and Jones had started with one-on-one basketball, but it had somehow degenerated into dodgeball. Loving was creaming Jones, which brought Paula no end of merriment.

Christina gazed across the stone picnic table at Ben. He seemed tired, but not unhappy. Most of the hostility she had seen these past few weeks was gone, and thank God for that. Perhaps it was finally time…

“Fun having a family, isn’t it?” Christina said, as she and Ben watched from the shade of the pavilion.

“If they were my family,” Ben groused, “I’d hang myself.”

“They are, you know.”

“If they’re our family, what does that make us?”

A question he almost immediately regretted verbalizing. It hung in the air like a crystalline balloon, fragile, but refusing to go away.

“Thank you for talking to Ellen.”

He shrugged. “No big.”

“I’ll bet.” She paused a moment. “She has another son, right? Her own child.”

“David. Thirteen.”

“That’ll be a comfort. Once Johnny starts doing his time.”

“I would imagine.”

“So… that means David was born just after-”

“I wouldn’t know anything about it.”

“Mmm.” She looked at him for a long moment. “I liked Ellen. I can see why she meant so much to you.”

Ben looked away, out at the horizon. “I thought I knew her. Stupid. Truth is that no matter what you do, how much time you spend, you can never know another person.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“It’s true. I thought I knew Ellen. Mike thought he knew Agent Swift. Tony Barovick thought he knew Shelly. You think you know someone and you put your trust in them and-pow! They betray you.”

“Not always,” Christina said firmly. “It doesn’t have to be that way.”

“Easy to say.”

“Look at me,” she said, gently turning his head until he faced her. “I would never betray you. And you would never do anything to hurt me. I know that. I know it.”

A silence fell, one that threatened to become oppressive. Christina snapped her fingers, shattering the silence. “I almost forgot. I have something for you.” She pulled a small tape player out of the picnic basket and turned it on.

“Is that Rachmaninoff?” Ben asked. “ ‘Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini.’ I love that piece.” He peered at her strangely. “I didn’t think anyone knew.”

Foolish boy. Mothers know everything. But I’m taking credit. “I thought it seemed like something you’d enjoy.”

“Heck of a good guess.”

“Well, we have worked together for a good while now, Mr. Kincaid.” She eyed him carefully. “I know you pretty darn well.”

“I guess so.” Christina wished she were telepathic; she’d give anything to know what was buzzing in that little brain of his.

“I’ve been a real horse’s ass, haven’t I?” he said.

“Not at all. Extenuating circumstances.”

“I know I have. I was awful.”

“You were just you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.”

“Like there’s something wrong with just me?”

“Apparently not.” She reached across the table and took his hand. “I’m still here, aren’t I?”

He put his other hand on hers. “I think I’m ready. To take the next step.”

She peered back at him. “You mean-beyond Scrabble?”

“If-it’s okay with you.”

“Ben Kincaid, it is so, so, so okay with me.”

Their heads drew closer together…

And a basketball slammed into Ben’s forehead.

“Hey, heads up!” Jones shouted. “What’s with you two? Weren’t you watching?”

Ben looked at Christina. Christina looked at Ben.

They kissed.

53

Just came in for a few minutes to jot down my thoughts. Wish I could be more upbeat about things, but there’s no denying that this has been a tough week.

It started with Roger. After all we’ve shared, as long as we’ve been together, it looks as if our relationship may be coming to an end. I suppose in the cosmic scale of things it isn’t that big a deal. More lovers fall apart than stay together. But I can’t get over the feeling of loss, the sense that I’m giving up some part of me that I can never regain. It hurts in a way that nothing has ever hurt me before.

I’m very concerned about what’s been going down at the bar. Remote Control has been my baby from the get-go, but I have the sense that it’s slipping away from me, that outside forces are stealing my progeny. I don’t know what to do about it. Word on the street is that an undercover cop is watching the place. Why? I’d like to think it was the hate crime those hoods perpetrated on Brian Meadows, but I know that incident isn’t even a blip on the law enforcement radar. I adore Shelly and she knows it. I would never want her to be hurt. Why does life always have to be so hard?

There were two frat boys sitting at a table together tonight. They knew I was gay and were determined to give me grief about it. One of them seemed truly mean, almost psychotic mean. For a split second, I wondered if we were going to have a repeat of what happened to Brian. Fortunately, as soon as I backed away, they went back to swilling their overpriced Mexican beer.

The easiest thing would be to hate those two frat boys. Easiest thing in the world. But somehow I can’t bring myself to do it. I don’t know what made them the way they are, but I know in my heart that given half a chance, both of them would be capable of doing great things, wonderful things, of doing great good in the world. No one is born to be a villain. I believe that everyone-even those two-in their heart of hearts wants to be good. Wants to do good.