Sometimes when one has bad news to bestow on another, especially knowing that this news will hurt them, it takes time to gather the courage to say it. I hope that is not the case for my seniors, but it was certainly the case for Ted. Today, however, he managed to make the call that he has been dreading.
Cole answered cheerfully, and in his voice Ted heard—or imagined he heard—the same gladness that Ted feels when he talks to Cole. It made it harder to bring up the reason for his call, but I was there to steady him, and so it was not long into the conversation before he turned serious.
“So I have to tell you something, Cole,” he said.
Cole could hear the tremor in his voice, and he was silent, waiting.
Ted took another breath, pressing the phone against his cheek. He was on his porch again, watching the sun set, but this time there was no Elaine listening behind him. Only me, and he did not know I was there with him.
“I’m…I’m starting to—” He stopped, assembling the words in his mind until he could speak them calmly. “I have feelings for you, Cole. More than I should have. More than I thought I would.”
Cole did not respond. I wasn’t certain if that was out of astonishment, or dismay, or pleasure, or simply that he was waiting to hear more. I considered going to find out, but I didn’t feel that I could leave Ted, or he might lose his courage.
“The night we met…” A small smile softened Ted’s mouth for a moment. “That was amazing, and I’ve remembered it so many times since then. And once we got back in touch—you’ve been such a good friend to me, with such good advice and such kindness. You make me believe in love again, and I’m so grateful for that.”
There was silence, but for the calls of a bird down by the shore, and the water lapping gently against the underside of the dock.
“But?” Cole said quietly.
Ted sighed, long and slow. “But,” he agreed, “I’m building something with Elaine. So are you, with Ian, I hope. And I don’t want to risk either of those things. So I’m going to have to cool it with calling you for a while.”
Cole was silent again. This time I thought I could hear pain in that silence.
“Love is all about taking risks, Ted,” he said finally.
This simple statement, though it admitted nothing, seemed to Ted to be a protest, an implication that his feelings are not unrequited. His heart sped up for a moment, and in that moment he dreamed vividly of forgetting it all, of driving that moment to a place where he could see Cole, touch him, see his eyes and read his lips.
But I reminded him of all the things he has been considering carefully since he saw Elaine last, and the heaviness returned to him. “Maybe,” he allowed. “And if there comes a time when we’re both free, I’d like to take those risks with you. But I care about Elaine, too, and I owe it to her to give us a real chance.”
It was the right thing to do, although I hated to weigh down the wings of that beautiful dream. I put my own wing around Ted for comfort.
Now it was Cole’s turn to sigh. “You’re a good man, Ted Hudson,” he said with rue in his voice—but also, I think, a smile. “Elaine’s a lucky girl. All right, I understand. But do me a favor—get back in touch with me in a couple of weeks and let me know how it’s going. I certainly hope we can at least still be friends?”
“I’d like that,” Ted said, relieved by and admiring of Cole’s acceptance. “And I will be back in touch, I promise. Thank you, Cole.”
“Good luck to you, my friend,” Cole said, and his voice made the last word an endearment. It was very bittersweet for Ted to hang up the phone, to cut off that voice, at least for now.
“It was the right thing to do,” I reminded him. “And you are a good man. But this does not mean you are alone. Really, you are doing this so that you won’t be—to protect what you have now.”
That thought made him smile again, and he picked up the phone once more. Elaine picked up on the first ring.