Three Weeks
 

“Three weeks.” Worry put a rasp in Casey’s voice and Billy looked up, only to quickly look away again. There were textbooks and notes spread across the kitchen table but he hadn’t absorbed a single word.
 
Zeke stood silently beside the refrigerator taking whatever Casey handed him and setting it on the counter. There was a carton of eggs and an array of vegetables – Casey must be making omelets.
 
Billy turned a page in his text and copied a sentence into his notebook just to give himself time to think. Had it really only been three weeks?
 
It had been his night to cook and Zeke had spent most of the meal teasing him about his culinary daring; Billy had baked prepackaged Salisbury steaks, potatoes and carrots. Casey giggled and made plate sculptures, stealing the last of the carrots to finish off his masterwork before devouring the whole thing.
 
The food was gone, but they lingered at the table, enjoying a rare evening free of part-time jobs and homework deadlines. Zeke was attempting an impression of his history professor when the phone rang.
 
None of their friends or family ever called the landline, so Billy reached over and grabbed it, expecting a sales call or political survey. It took him a moment to understand what he was hearing.
 
“How?” was the only word he managed, his body sagging against the counter as he listened to his uncle. It wasn’t a long conversation; there weren’t many facts. Billy didn’t remember what he said after that – ‘I’m sorry’, ‘thank you for calling’. None of it was adequate. He held on to the receiver after the call ended until Zeke took it out of his hand.
 
“Jack, my cousin. He was shot today. Killed. He was leaving for work and someone shot him.”
 
“Billy,” Casey reached for him but Billy shied away. He looked at both of his lovers before taking a step back. They watched him, tense and unhappy.
 
“We hadn’t spoken. Not for a while. He had a new job and I, well... We hadn’t been close for a long time. But when we were kids…”
 
Billy accepted their comfort then, let Zeke guide him to the sofa and let them sit next to him, surrounding him with love and support. He slept well that night and felt guilty for it the next morning.
 
And now, three weeks later, a hard knot of grief was still sitting in his chest and his lovers were worried. The concern only made Billy feel worse as he tried to focus on his homework. Zeke and Casey had gone out of their way to be attentive, but even that didn’t seem to be enough.
 
There were still no answers from the police, no understanding of why Jack was dead, or why the shooter had then killed himself. This wasn’t a movie, and there would be no tidy resolution.
 
Billy had been driving to work yesterday, stuck at a stoplight and thinking about dinner when he remembered the weekend he and Jack had spent camping out in Jack’s backyard. Billy had been seven and twelve-year-old Jack had seemed like the most amazing person on the planet – teaching Billy how to pitch a tent and make a campfire. Everything they cooked was half-raw or burnt and they both ended up with poison ivy rash, but Billy couldn’t wait to go camping again.
 
The light turned green and Billy started driving, surprised to realize that tears were blurring his vision. He wiped them away quickly and pressed the feeling down, hard. It was the only time in three weeks that he’d even been close to crying.
 
Billy sighed and closed his book, giving up even the pretense of studying. Casey was haphazardly chopping vegetables while Zeke filled a pan with sausage patties. Zeke was humming softly, something that might have been the Star Wars theme if it had been on-key. Casey put down the knife and plucked two slices of green pepper off the side of the cutting board. He bumped against Zeke on purpose and fed him a pepper slice, taking up the tune, only marginally more in-tune. He bounced over to Billy and waved the pepper at him, pulling it back at the last second and taking a tiny bite before shoving it at Billy’s mouth.
 
Billy chewed the pepper loudly, mouth partly open because it would annoy Casey. It earned him Casey’s well-practiced look of disgust and a sharp laugh from Zeke. Casey increased the volume and terribleness of his tune, draping himself over Billy’s back and humming loudly into his ear.
 
Zeke covered the sausages and joined them, dropping into a chair beside Billy and adding his own, out of sync and still off-key humming to Casey’s. Definitely the Star Wars theme.
 
Well then… Billy started humming too, making it the worst rendition of the three. He leaned back, resting his head against Casey’s chest, and twisting to put his legs up on Zeke’s lap. The kitchen was warm and the scent of cooking sausages and crisp pepper filled the air. The knot in his chest wasn’t gone, but it loosened a little, and Billy was grateful.
 
::end::
 

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