“Yeah.” He released a long, heavy sigh. “I can’t talk about it much.”

“That’s okay.”

They listened to the alarm clock ticking on Tate’s desk; soft music drifted in from the back of the suite, sounded like gospel.

“I brought this girl Britt back with me last night and then I didn’t want her here. I’m such a shit sometimes.”

Maybe it was a warning not to presume too much. But it was too late for that anyway; the contact with Ben’s mass, the physical closeness, had broken apart Ronny’s shell, taken him back into the feelings he had tried to lose, wrecked his calm. Ronny said, “I wish I knew what to say.”

“Guess you gave up on me, right? I haven’t talked to you in so long.”

“Didn’t know what was going on.”

“Lost it a little bit,” he said.

“When did you get the news?”

“Right after Thanksgiving she went to a doctor. Got worried after that. You won’t believe the mess I’m in. Barely got through exams. Three incompletes.”

So it was help with schoolwork Ben needed. That was the first thought, the bitter one. But the feeling was different from that. He wanted it to be different. Ben laid his hand on Ronny’s arm for a moment. “I’m fucking up again,” he said.

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“I just want somebody to talk to. I know I can talk to you.”

“You don’t want to tell me what’s wrong with your mom though?”

“I will. What about you? You doing okay?”

“Sure. Glad to be back at school.”

He closed his eyes, the lashes looked wet, and Ronny felt so much of it, the hurt and pain flowing through Ben’s body, a trembling vibration running through him, as if all that was holding him still was the weight of grief. “For some reason you settle me down a little. You know it?”

“No. But I’m glad if it’s true.”

After a while Ben said, tone slightly altered, “I know what you want, Ronny. But I just don’t know what to do about it.”

“Jesus, Ben.” Running a hand through his own hair.

“Don’t try to talk to me about it, okay? I just wanted to say.”

Thumping, thumping in Ronny’s chest. “Okay.”

“My mom has cancer in the gallbladder thing,” he said.

“Does she? Crap. Crap.”

“I know.”

“Is it? Crap. I’ll just shut up.”

“She’s not bad sick yet. They’re figuring out how to treat her. She had an appointment Friday for some kind of test, over at Duke. Finds out more Monday.”

“What are they going to do?”

“Radiation, like. And then the chemotherapy stuff. We don’t know how long yet.”

Speaking the words aloud released Ben, and he changed position, put an arm over his head. Ronny shifted a bit, reduced the contact between them, took a deep breath. Turmoil inside him, same as inside Ben, he supposed, but for different reasons. He felt raw, as if he were gaping open, exposed. It should have been fearful but it was something else.