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Returning home to a beautiful apartment after a long day of an honest living, Tom Ripley never thought he’d see the day. Years on years of dingy apartments that provided just a little more comfort than a wet box had him unaccustomed to looking forward to returning home. Taking off his dress shoes and suit jacket Tom took a moment to appreciate the little routine he’d built for himself. Nothing too extravagant, Tom was classy enough to know where to be modest and where to shell out. The apartment was just reserved enough to appear to be on a single man's salary but the grand piano, statue bust, little details to allude to his newfound wealth.
The Greenleaf fortune would have been more than enough to support him for the rest of his days. If he were a little more authentically Dickie, maybe he would have spent his days meandering by the sea, doing nothing and answering to no one. He thought on it too, upon landing in Greece he spent a week lounging around until he got his first check from the Greenleaf estate. The little scribbled signature made him sick and he got right to the job hunt. The working life suits him too well anyway, and with the help of Peter’s recommendation and some embellishing of his resume, Tom’s found himself a position as a pianist for a theater company. Taking up all his nights was a small price to pay to enjoy the finest talent Greece has to offer in a lovely playhouse every night. It’s the stuff of dreams, all the finest scammers could never make this happen, only Tom Ripley could con his way into honest living and someone else’s trust fund.
He’d commiserate a little longer on the things he’s done to get this life, maybe enjoy a little more good old fashioned emotional turmoil. But just as he settled in for a night of quiet thought and maybe some nightmares, the phone rang. Tom would be embarrassed to admit he nearly jumped from where he was standing, not in surprise at how late the phone call was, this was the thrill of the other part of his new routine. He had been at the phone on the first ring, but he lets another one go through, simply to appear more busy than he is, and then picks up, he knows exactly who it is anyway.
“Hello Peter” He’s smiling so hard he worries it can be heard on the other line, and a soft chuckle reassures him.
“Hello Tom, have I gotten so predictable already?” It's been maybe six months since Tom and Peter arrived in Greece. Since Tom admitted most of the truth to Peter, at least enough to keep him in their cabin for the rest of the trip. A wave of guilt washes over him when he thinks of all he’s still withholding, he’s had enough waves for a lifetime. But the honesty Tom’s found himself practicing in Peter's presence is more than he thinks he may have in his entire life. There’s a comfort to letting someone really know you, or as much of you as they can know, and Peter’s working hard to descend the basement stairs.
After their initial arrival in Greece, Peter was content to let Tom share his apartment for the duration of their stay. But living off of another person made Tom nauseous, so Peter and Tom got to work on developing Tom’s career. Peter couldn’t be prouder, as he so often says, watching Tom stand on his own two feet. It made Tom feel like a kid when he said it but it’s true, he’d never had a life as sturdy as this one. And with Tom and Peter working evening hours, it’s become a routine that Peter will ring Tom shortly after work most weekends, and enjoy each other's company. Initially it was sheer excitement after each performance, both wanting to know every detail of the other night, planning to meet for lunch or dinner as soon as possible and share the success. Not unlike two children, far too excited to spill each detail to wait until the next day. But now it was a simple longing to hear the comfort of the others' voices after a long day at work.
“Well the oddest thing happened in the orchestra today and I thought I just needed to share with you” Peter chimes on the other end. Lovely nothings, how are yous, the quiet language of love danced through the conversation. “And I know you’re off tomorrow. I was wondering if you’d be interested in going to the gallery with me, there’s an exhibit I know you’d like to see. It’s guided by a colleague of mine who studies classics, lots of musical artifacts from the ancients. She is a delight-, Oh! and it's not far from the cafe we like.” Peter continues on, really trying to sell Tom on the premise of the exhibit, as if Tom would have ever said no. Tom wouldn’t say no if Peter asked him to climb Mount Olympus. But it felt so nice, not to have to chase after someone. He knew how wanted he was from the ring of the telephone, and trips to the seaside, and tearful admissions that he’s less than who he said he was, and tearful reassurances that he was more than enough.
“Well that sounds like a date then, I’ll meet you around ten? Yes I’ll be up by then that was once. Well if you weren’t all the way down the block I wouldn’t have any travel time now would I? Alright, take care, I love you” The last part always came out a bit meek from Tom’s mouth. He’ll never know just how long it will take to shake the fear it won’t be returned. But ever his safety net Peter’s voice rings clear over the phone “I love you too, good night”. Peace in his mind, peace in his heart Tom prepares to lay his head down and dream about the morning ahead of him. Bless the telephone.