“Why are you here?” The one friend folded his arms, frowning.
“I just wanted to talk to David’s boyfriend. I cared about David, and I wanted to say how sorry I am.”
The two friends exchanged glances.
David’s boyfriend nodded, sniffling. “Thank you, that’s very nice of you. I’m Ryan Safir.”
“Allie Garvey,” Allie repeated, and if he recognized the name, it didn’t show. “You have my deepest condolences.”
He nodded. “You knew David from Amherst?”
“No, Bakerton High School. We lived in the same development.”
“So you go way back.” Ryan forced a sad smile, and Allie could see that he was in agony.
“Ryan, do you think we could talk a minute, alone?”
“Okay,” Ryan answered, glancing at his friends. “Do you guys mind?”
“Not at all. We’ll be in the car.”
“Thanks.” Ryan nodded, and his friends left.
Allie tried to think of what she could say without showing her hand. She didn’t want to upset Ryan any further. “I don’t know where to start. I just—I’m so sorry about what happened. I was so sad to hear this. David was such a wonderful guy.”
“He really was.”
“I’m sure this is so much for you to deal with, this loss. He was so young, and so interested in life, in books, in tennis, and well, I was really crazy about him,” Allie found herself saying. She hadn’t planned it, but the words were coming out with a force of their own. “David was my first crush, really, my first love.”
“Funny, mine, too.” Ryan laughed, but it came out like a sob.
“Can I just ask—I mean, how long did you know him for?”
“About three years. We were lovers that long. We met in a bar. I know, it’s a cliché.”
Allie smiled, liking him, and Ryan didn’t need encouragement to continue.
“I live in the West Village, and I knew he was married, living in Williamsburg, so I guess I knew what I was getting into. I hoped he would leave her, but when she got pregnant, he didn’t want to do that to his son. He knew it was a boy.”
“Oh, that’s so sad.”
“And I knew his troubles would return, and they did.”
Allie paused. “What troubles, if I can ask? I mean, we lost touch, but I always thought about him.”
“He was an artist at heart. Such a good writer. But it was hard.” Ryan wiped his eyes, leaving a pinkish streak. His skin was fair, but his eyes and hair were dark. “David had a really good heart and he struggled, he really struggled, so hard.”
Gently, Allie asked, “How?”
Ryan hesitated. “Oh, I guess he wouldn’t mind, he wasn’t private about it. He struggled with depression, and he had a drinking problem, and he’d been to rehab twice but he relapsed both times. He started missing meetings, and last week, it got really bad, so I guess I really wasn’t surprised when, you know, he did it. I think it was his way of telling the truth, finally.”
“How so?”
“I have a studio in upstate New York, in the country. It’s beautiful up there, along the Hudson, that’s where we would go.” Ryan smiled, but it vanished quickly, too fragile to stay long. “He would tell his wife he had an assignment out of town, because he did so much travel writing, and he got hired by the chamber of commerce up there, to write about the area. So it worked out.” Ryan swallowed hard. “I had to run out to a client’s that night—I’m a graphic designer—and when I came home, I found him. He did it at my place. Our place.”
“Oh my, that must’ve been horrible.” Allie touched his arm, and Ryan seemed to steady in her grasp.
“It was. It was horrible, horrible. It was the most horrible thing I’ll ever see, in my whole life.” Ryan looked away, taking a deep breath. “And the fact of it, at first I thought, like, what is this about? Is he angry at me? Why did he do this here?” Ryan rubbed at his forehead. “And then I was like, maybe he’s trying to save his wife from seeing it. But in the end, I think he wanted to make a statement about us. That we were together, this was our place, and there was no hiding it anymore. No lies anymore.”
“I can see that,” Allie said softly, giving his arm a squeeze.
“I didn’t want to disrupt his life. I wanted him to live the way he wanted to live. I knew he would find his own truth when