“Oh my dear,” Jeannie said softly. “I’m so sorry. If I had known, I wouldn’t have suggested this.”
“How could you possibly know?” Seth replied.
“Perhaps you should skip this one,” Andrew advised. “There will be a different movie tomorrow, and we can try this again. No harm, no foul.”
“No.”
“Why are you being stubborn,” Bryce muttered angrily. “Are you hell-bent on ruining the rest of this trip?”
“Stop being melodramatic,” Seth said. “That’s my job.”
Bryce sat down with a huff, ripped open the plastic bag covering his blanket, and shook it out with a loud snap. He was pissed and would have been a lot more forceful with Seth if not for Andrew and Jeannie looking stricken by this sudden development. He folded his arms across his chest and braced himself for the next two hours.
The film turned out to be a little different than what he’d expected. There were no violins or tortured death scenes, and the slow plunge into a world where Hawking was trapped within a body that had stopped functioning was handled delicately and honestly. Bryce felt extreme admiration for Jane, the woman who’d pulled Hawking out of his depression after he’d been diagnosed, and married him knowing the man supposedly had about two years to live. She was intent on providing the best two years of his life, and her willingness to overlook the physical gave the physicist and cosmologist a reason to go on living. They managed to have a family of three—sex is an automatic response, Hawking quipped when asked by his best friend—and he was able to continue on with his research, which was really his raison d’être, love and devotion notwithstanding.
For some reason, the man surpassed the two years he’d been allotted by the medical community and continued to live against all odds. There was no rational explanation for his longevity, unless one considered sheer determination as the guiding force. Ironically, the unexpected length of his life and the many sacrifices taken to give him some semblance of a normal home had finally worn Jane down. After twenty-five years of marriage, they divorced when she fell in love with one of Stephen’s caregivers.
What Bryce took away from the movie was respect for Jane and a better understanding of Mark’s decision to end his life. Even if he had lived longer than most, like Hawking, he would have condemned Seth to a life riddled with challenges. His writing would have undoubtedly been affected, with his career put on hold or wiped out altogether. Mark knew his man well enough to know what he could and couldn’t endure, and after Bryce immersed himself in Jane’s life for two hours, he could honestly say that Seth’s creative soul would have suffocated as surely as Mark’s body deteriorated. Privately, he’d been disappointed by Mark’s decision and had thought less of his buddy following his sudden death. Thanks to the power of cinema, Bryce was able to comprehend the scope of the disease, and he finally forgave his friend for abandoning Seth with no warning.
Before the credits finished rolling, Seth was out of his chair. He walked away without saying a word, but Bryce could see the fresh tears on his cheeks and the haunted look in his eyes.
“Is he going to be okay?” Jeannie asked.
“I hope so,” Bryce replied.
“Go after him,” she urged. “He needs to understand his partner’s decision was out of his hands.”
“He blames himself,” Bryce admitted. “From the beginning, Seth has always maintained he was too self-absorbed to catch on to the subtle signals Mark was sending his way. That’s what’s been bothering him the most, and the fact that Mark didn’t trust him enough to share his fears.”
“I don’t know Seth,” Jeannie said evenly, “and I certainly have no idea what Mark was like, but I do know a little bit about life-and-death decisions. Please ask Seth to keep an open mind until we get a chance to talk.”
“Okay.” Bryce stared at Jeannie. Her face mirrored Seth’s—wounded and forlorn—but her eyes were dry. He should have pumped her for answers, but he was too worried about Seth. “Let me go and find him.”
“Take him in your arms and love him, Bryce. Call me a meddling old fool if you must, but there’s no denying you care for the man.”
“I do.” Bryce nodded. “I’m not sure when it happened. We’ve only been close for a short time.”
“A wise woman once told me that sometimes it’s not a matter of time; it’s being with the right person at the right time that makes the difference.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, Jeannie. Thank you.”
“Good luck.”
“I’ll need it.”
Bryce took the elevator down to their floor, hoping Seth had decided to bury himself under a mound of blankets and have a good cry. In a sense, it would be cathartic to let it all out. He could scream and beat on Bryce’s chest and use him as a punching bag to take out his anger and frustration. That kind of reaction Bryce could deal with. It was the silent grieving he couldn’t stand.
He pushed the door in and found an empty room. Alarmed, he walked out and paused in the hallway, trying to put himself in Seth’s shoes. Would he want to be in a crowd in this frame of mind or alone? Bryce decided to try the public areas first. He walked through the casino on his way to one of the many bars scattered throughout the ship. No sign of Seth.
He tried the karaoke bar next, not real hopeful, but worth a shot. No Seth.
He began searching in earnest, growing more and more concerned when he couldn’t find Seth. He tried Club Fusion, Outrigger Bar, Calypso Bar, Blackbeard’s Bar, Tradewinds Bar, and Morgan’s Bar. Nothing. Next he attacked the lounges, hoping the quieter atmosphere would appeal to someone who was in despair, because at this point, Bryce was convinced Seth was having a total meltdown.
He almost sobbed in relief when he walked into the Churchill Lounge and found Seth sitting by himself in a tufted blue velvet chair facing a window. There was nothing to see but his reflection in the glass and the occasional splash of water from an errant wave. Not a single ship was in their close proximity; therefore, no pinpoints of light were in the far distance. In Bryce’s opinion, the endless dark vista reflected Seth’s desolate mood.
“Hey,” Bryce said softly so as not to startle Seth.
Seth turned slowly and looked up at Bryce. He gave him a woebegone smile, and Bryce let out the breath he’d been holding. “Do you mind if I join you?”
“Not at all. I’m sorry for running off,” Seth said. “I couldn’t face anyone after the movie.”
“I don’t blame you,” Bryce said. “Talk about getting the rug pulled out from under your feet. What a shock.”
“Yeah, it was definitely not my idea of a good time, but I’m glad I sat through it.”
“Do you mean that?”
Seth nodded. He pointed at his iPad, which sat on the table beside an empty whiskey tumbler. “I googled the film to get more information. Apparently, it was created and inspired by Jane’s 2007 memoir
Traveling to Infinity: My Life with Stephen
, which was a revised version of her original book published in 1999,
Music to Move the Stars
. I plan to read it and form my own opinions, but supposedly she gives a more accurate, negative view of their life together. That woman went through hell.”
“I believe it.”
“From the bits and pieces I’ve read on different sites, Hawking is a difficult and demanding man, and not because of his disease. He’s brilliant, no doubt of that, but his ego is quite formidable, and the more accolades he receives, the larger it gets. At one point, Jane likened him to an emperor, expecting the world to be at his beck and call. She has quite a sense of humor.”
“Probably the only thing that saved her sanity.”
“No doubt,” Seth said. He raised his hand and pointed at the empty glass, signaling for a refill.
“So other than learning about the great Stephen Hawking, did this film give you a little more insight into Mark’s dilemma?”
“Yes and no. I would like to think I have the same will and determination that drove Jane to bolster Hawking when he most needed it, but at the same time, I’m convinced Mark was aware of my limitations. He knew I’d never make it past the first few months. I would have lost my mind seeing him suffering like that.”
“So he did you a favor, Seth.”
“In sparing me, yes, but my quixotic side can’t forgive him for taking away my right to prove I could have been his hero and nurse him to the end.”
“Perhaps he didn’t want you to see him as a mere shell of a man. Mark took great pride in his accomplishments, and one of those was providing for you. He loved the fact that you could be a full-time writer because he earned enough to cover the lean months. Taking that away would have added to his fears for your future.”
“Why didn’t he let me weigh in on the decision? As his spouse, I had every right.”
“Maybe he didn’t want to be persuaded, Seth. I know I’d put a gun in my mouth if I had to face the same fate.”
“Jesus, Bryce.”
“It’s the truth. I refuse to become anybody’s ball and chain. No matter how deeply you love someone, it’s unrealistic to expect such dogged devotion. Give yourself a break, Seth.”
“I’m working on it,” Seth said vaguely.
“Are you ready to call it a night? We have another early morning start tomorrow.”
Seth picked up the newly filled tumbler and drained it in a few gulps. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to sleep after this.”
“Let’s give it a shot, okay? Maybe we can have another nightcap in our cabin. That’ll push you over the edge.”
Seth nodded and, picking up his iPad, stood to go. Bryce pulled him close, trying to provide the support and comfort Seth needed without being overbearing. He had to give him space to work this out in his head, which was a little muddled right now. Not surprising considering the info dump he’d unwittingly experienced in the last few hours and the whiskey he’d been pounding while doing research. Next time anyone invited them to see a movie on deck, Bryce would research the motherfucker to death.
“POUR ME
a drink,” Seth said the minute they walked into their cabin.
Bryce opened the mini-fridge and stared at the contents. “Are you sticking to whiskey, or will a beer work?”
“A beer will do.”
Bryce decided to have a nightcap as well, and while he was reaching for the longnecks, Seth was pulling aside the curtains, revealing the glass door to their private veranda. He lifted the latch and slid the door open, letting in a gust of cold air as well as the unmistakable sound of waves splashing against the ship as it made its way up the coast of Ireland.
“What are you doing?” Bryce asked, trying to sound casual despite the rising panic in his chest. He didn’t know why, but the idea of Seth standing out on an open balcony in his current frame of mind with only a waist-high barrier and railing preventing him from falling overboard scared him to death.
“Smelling the ocean,” Seth said casually.
“Aren’t you cold?” Bryce asked, joining Seth and handing him his bottle. “It’s kind of nippy.”
Seth snorted. “Since when do Chicagoans shy away from a little cold?”
“Since we’re not dressed for the occasion. Do you want me to grab your windbreaker?” Bryce noticed with growing alarm that Seth was leaning over the railing. He pulled him back roughly. “What in the hell are you up to?”
“Just checking out the view.”
“It’s dark as fuck out there. You can’t see shit.”
“I can imagine it,” Seth said. “I’m good at conjuring up anything I want: mermaids, sea monsters, Neptune himself. It’s a talent.”
“Why don’t you picture your ass sitting on the sofa looking sexy instead of out here freezing to death? Let’s go back inside,” Bryce hollered so he could be heard above the rising wind.
Seth didn’t budge, continuing to stare down at the churning waves. “If I jumped, do you think I would die the instant I hit the water?”
Fearing the worst, Bryce wrapped Seth in his arms and forcibly dragged him back inside. He slid the door shut, latched it, and drew the curtains to block out the view.
“What’s the matter with you?” Seth asked reasonably. “I wasn’t going to throw myself over the railing. It was a rhetorical question.”
“You and your fucking questions.”
Seth took a long pull off his drink, leaned back on the couch, and closed his eyes. “Leave the door open a crack, please. I like the sound of the waves.”
“No,” Bryce said. “Maybe another time.”
Seth opened his eyes and looked up at Bryce, who was staring down at him with concern. “Stop worrying, my friend. I’ve researched drowning for a novel, and I know it’s a horrible way to die.”
“How many drinks have you had?”
“Not enough,” Seth said in disgust. “Not nearly enough.”
“Get up.”
“Why?”
“It’s time for bed.”
“Do you think Mark knows you and I have been having sex?”
“For God’s sake,” Bryce muttered.
Seth stood and practically fell into Bryce’s arms. They were close enough in height to peer into each other’s eyes without straining. Seth was a little glassy-eyed from the booze, and he was a bit unsteady on his feet, but he was regarding Bryce with the same trust and tenderness he’d shown before the movie, which was a relief. Bryce would have cried foul if Seth turned on him for some random film he hadn’t heard of before tonight.
“It’s embarrassing how much I want you when I should be grieving for him,” Seth said pensively. “I’m no better than all your hookups on Grindr.”
“You’re nothing like those guys,” Bryce said gently.
“Maybe Mark planned this all along?”
“Babe, he had no idea I’d be traveling with you.”
Do you think he’s hot? Would you date him if he were single?
A sudden flashback of that day at the gym when Mark had thrown out the unexpected questions came to mind. Had he guessed they’d gravitate toward each other when he disappeared from the scene? It was at once creepy and encouraging that he had the man’s endorsement, albeit posthumously.
“If Mark would just give me a sign that he’s okay with this, I wouldn’t feel so damn guilty.”
“The worst guilt is to accept an unearned guilt,” Bryce quoted Ayn Rand. He’d read her books back in college, and her objectivist philosophy had made quite the impression as he struggled to come to terms with his parents’ disappointment over his orientation. There was no reason to feel guilty over something out of his control. He hadn’t consciously chosen to be gay to spite or embarrass them, and he didn’t have a faulty gene as they’d repeatedly implied. When he finally accepted Rand’s theory that man is a heroic being with his own happiness as the moral purpose of his life, productive achievement as his noblest activity, and reason as his absolute, life got a lot easier.