I watch from the stands as the two men skate around, playing against each other. Mark Smithbauer gestures for Fraser to come closer and says something low and private, causing Benny to laugh. Mark throws me a glance, then skates away. I feel my chest go tight, but I ignore it. I don't like what it's telling me, what it says about me. Were they talking about me? Now, I know I've gone paranoid. Still, there's a nagging I can't let go of.
Ah, who am I kidding? I'm starting to think those thought you don't even like to admit to yourself. I'm jealous of the guy. I know it. It's not just the easy connection I see between them or the way he's made Benny smile and laugh more times than I can remember. It's the fact they talk. They talk all the bleepin' time, like two clucking chickens ready to lay eggs, for crying out loud! It's like they're joined at the damned hip or something.
I mean, sure, Benny and I talk. Oh yeah, we talk about such exciting things as some dumb case I'm working on or how he could avoid Frannie. And just look at Mark. Great smile, great hair, a chest that's got the girls drooling. I lay my head in my hands and I think to myself: 'what the *Hell* is wrong with you, Vecchio?! This is the first person Benny can really talk to, one of the few he can open up around and tell what he's thinking. Benny's been through a lot in his life. He finally finds someone and here you act like a brat! Grow up!'
Hrmph. Sounds like Pop talking. Speaking of growing up rough, I didn't exactly have it easy. So sue me if I don't wanna' harp on it. Or the tons of problems I could blather on about. But, I don't. So I talk instead about sports, the Riv, work, Dief, the suits I manage to get a good deal on - what's the big deal?(especially since *you* help ruin them!) Sure, I complain, but not everyone can be as understanding as a Mountie, for Christ's sake! Besides, I thought you understood I'm just like that.
Yeah...you see where that macho/silent-type shit has got you, right, Vecchio? Your best friend feels he can't even talk to you like he can to a stranger he hasn't seen in over fifteen years. No wonder the guy thinks he can't come to me. It tugs at something deep in me and I feel like crying. Holy shit! I can't handle it, so I shrug it off. Too close, it's just too close...
I asked him if he wanted to go get Chinese tonight. That's it, Ray, invite him out when he's fully aware he *could* be reminiscing moose calls, tracking bison or something fun like that with Mr. Great Smile. Of course he didn't want to go. Yeah, I can *really* see the allure there, Benny, but what I don't get is why, these days, I seem to only be worth conversations *I* start. I try to talk to you and all I get are half sentences as a reply. I find myself trying to find things to talk about I think you might like. Still, you don't...I don't know. I let out a big sigh. I know I shouldn't blame Fraser. Here he's going through so much and all I can think about is myself and how he treats me when Mark is around. Or isn't around, for that matter.
I guess Chicago can be pretty boring to a couple of guys from the "Land Of The Beautiful And The Home Of The Nice". Hell yeah, I know I'm being selfish! I know it ain't pretty. It may be the truth, but I don't have to like it. I should be glad Mr. Hair and Chest is there for him. And I am. I really am. But what I want to know is why does it rip at my guts knowing Mark is spending the night at Benny's? Do I really want to know the answer to that?
END(?)