A gay story: Failing Upward Ch. 15 Author note: Thanks to everyone for all the feedback. I’m sorry this story isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but this story is hard to categorize since it blends sci fi, fantasy and romance. If it’s not for you, pass it by. Since the premise is about the process of finding out that Wes is jumping universes, saying this upfront uncovers a major plot device in the story.
If you find the story too difficult to follow at this point, wait until it’s completely posted, then read it in its entirety. I’m post one chapter per week and have only five more chapters to post after this until the end.
Thanks,
el
————–
Rotten food, paper towels, junk mail. All frozen. Shit. What was this? Last week’s chicken? Ruined my appetite. Bona Petite my ass. I felt like a homeless man, digging around in the two garbage cans by the back door covertly scavenging for my old jeans and shirt. It was the sand. It had to be. I opened the bag and emptied it on the ground before me. I dug around on my hands and knees searching. Sand, sand, I had to have the sand. At least it was cold enough that it didn’t stink, but my fingers turned to stiff ice sickles digging around. In the second can my numb fingers finally found my clothes in the very bottom trash-bag. I reached into the front pocket of my soiled old jeans and brought out a handful of sand, as white and sparkling as the snow around me, then put it back. The front and back pockets of my jeans had more than enough sand for my purposes. I tried not to dwell on where my clothes had been as I carefully rolled them up and put the trash back.
I crept through the mudroom door and slipped into the kitchen. I washed my hands first. My cold hands burned as the warm water poured over them. I dried them on a towel hooked to the cabinet and then began my quest. Now, trying to find the zip-lock baggies to put the sand in was next to impossible in this kitchen. There was more than twenty old wooden drawers every one of them stuck. By some miracle, I caught the silverware drawer before it fell to the floor. With each squeak, I tensed and looked up– certain I’d see Glenda come around the kitchen counter and ask what the hell I was doing in her kitchen. I found the baggies in the side of the linen drawer. I pulled one out tucked it in my pocket then ducked through the dining room, down the ante room and up the stairs. I needed sanctuary. I had to think. Could I do this? Could I get our lives back?
I had until Wednesday. I’d go to work tomorrow… maybe. At the least I should stop in and see Mr. Keller. At least as far as I knew my job at the flower shop was still there.
I went to the wastebasket by my desk and meticulously emptied the sand out of my pockets into the baggie. I sat cross-legged, leaning over the basket, careful not to spill any evidence on the floor. I felt kinda like a bad boy– like I was filling a baggie with some contraband substance and trying to keep it from my parents. My fingers were still stiff, cold, and shaky. I couldn’t get the fucking bag to seal. I tried again. Shit. I placed it between my legs and blew on my hands to warm them. There. At last… Yellow and blue do make green.
I held up the bag; it swung lazily like a pendulum, and the light from the old lamp on my desk made the sand sparkle hypnotically. So much trouble from something so simple. I drew myself up off the floor then I threw my old clothes under my bed. I put the baggie in my underwear drawer under my socks like a teenager hiding his stash from his mom.
I felt out-of-sync– like an old clock wound down, ticking off each second slower and slower. My arms and legs felt detached. The house was still.
I took my twelve-string Alvarez out of the guitar case and curled up on the cushions in the old bay window. I pressed my spine into the frame and ran one finger down the sheer curtains. Pulling them aside, I gazed down into the frozen garden below. It was easier for me to think playing my guitar. I turned back to my twelve-string. Memories of my lover’s bite on the very cushions I sat on now filled me. My head banging against the frame of this same window. I remembered the thorny vines below, and they haunted me. I closed my eyes; they waited, dormant and lonely below in the cold garden. I could feel their song through the strings. As my thumb caressed the smooth maple neck of my guitar, I connected with the other me– he was me. That Wes and I the same. The realization vibrated through me with the strings, our thoughts and our passions in tune. We both wanted the same things. Sid. The roses. Our old lives back. And the garden… the garden wanted us– called to us. I scratched my wrist where the thorn hid beneath my skin– where it hid beneath the other Wes’s skin as well. My face became hot, and my eyes misted. Christ. My cock was hard. How long had it been since we’d been down there?
Too long. It had been too long since we’d been down there.
I wanted to go outside to the garden, but I moved away from the window onto my bed instead. It was cold and hollow outside. Going there would solve nothing just fill a void. As I thought of Sid and moved my fingers over the frets, my head finally cleared. Wednesday I would try to go back to my universe, to my Sid, and if it didn’t work, I made up my mind that I would never try to slip into another reality again. It was too painful moving in and out of other lives.
I wondered what I’d be going back to… I worried about Sid. My uncle and Trent told me how hard it would be for Sid to deal with his new immortality and all that went with it. Not being able feel pain– that would be the hardest. Sometimes I thought it would be better if my brand of immortality granted me the gift of no pain, but I knew life would be flat. I thought about what my Sid gave up by taking the serum.
If I stayed here, the Sid in this time might make the same choice as my Sid had. I couldn’t stop myself from loving this Sid, but I could stop myself from making this Sid immortal.
Then there was Shackleton off destroying my life in another universe.
My mind whirled. I decided I’d wash the rest away the rest of the day one chord at a time.
——————
Tuesday morning there was no hiding. I hoped I could sneak out and avoid Glenda’s third-degree, but no such luck. I had Les’s car keys in hand when she caught me at the door.
She corralled me by pulling my coat and dragging me to the table. In a bathrobe and slippers, her hair was piled on top of her head, face freshly scrubbed, glowing.
“Get out in the kitchen and eat something! I’m making pancakes.”
I surrendered and sat down and watched her leaning over in her blue terrycloth bathrobe, testing the griddle with a drop of cold water. It popped and fizzled.
“Ready,” she said, pouring the batter then pointing to the counter. “Coffee’s ready, too. Have some.”
I got up, took a mug out of the cupboard and poured a steaming cup. I scratched my palm then hunted for the sugar.
I sat back down with a black cup of coffee.
“You must be desperate to avoid me if you’re sneaking off without a cup of coffee,” she observed, lifting the edge of one pancake, peeking underneath. “You can’t skirt this forever. You have to talk about it sometime.”
Not sure exactly what she was referring to, I shrugged and feigned indifference. I figured she was probably referring to my ordeal with Shackleton, but better to not jump to any conclusions– like maybe she knew I had the hots for Sid (m-m-m Sid, nice round ass, soft eyes, strong hands and those incredible flecks of freckles sprinkled across his shoulders– god I needed HIM!).
Then again, maybe she was just fishing for information and suspected that I’m not really Wes or–
“I know there’s nothing I can say– I can’t imagine what it must have been like being buried like that,” she said, systematically flipping over the pancakes one-by-one. “Or what happened with that man, Shackleton. You’ve been keeping too much to yourself, locked up in your room. I’m worried for you, Wes. Your body is here, but you’re still not with us. I keep looking for our Wes and every moment or two I’ll see him and then the sparkle dancing in your eyes fades. I want to see your eyes sparkle all the time again–”
“I don’t think that’s going to happen.”
She flopped each pancake off the griddle onto a red Fiesta platter. She set it on the table next to the syrup. I stared down at my reflection in my sunny yellow plate. Nope, no sparkle today.
“I don’t remember…” I said, the bright colored dinner plates not doing much for my appetite or appearance.
She stepped behind my chair then placed her hands on my shoulders, massaging my neck with her thumbs.
“I don’t believe you. Les buys it, but I don’t. You’ve always been one to avoid what’s unpleasant.”
I choked on my coffee– now that was the understatement of the year! “Unpleasant? Fuck!”
She pinched my side.
“Ouch!”
She wagged her finger at me then plopped pancakes on my plate and smothered them in syrup.
“Maybe it’s cool to swear like that around your friends, but not in front of me,” she scolded. “Wes?”
“Sorry.”
“You do remember,” she said firmly.
“Some,” I admitted, taking a small bite. “But not all.”
“What do you remember?”
“I’m not certain how long I was there, but I do remember being buried. I remember Shackleton throwing sand on me– the grit in my mouth. He wouldn’t talk to me just shoveling more and more sand on top of me. I remember not being able to move and how I itched. That sand was like little pieces of fiberglass rubbing through me. You know how wonderful it feels to be able to scratch now?” I automatically scratched my head, my arms, the top of my legs. “All I could do was dream and think. After awhile, I couldn’t tell what was a dream, my imagination from reality. I didn’t hope anymore.”
She put her arms around me and hugged me tight.
“I think I have some idea what it’s like to be insane,” I said, resting my head back against her robe, closing my eyes. Then I heard someone else behind me, and my skin sparked in pinpricks, and my eyes flew open; I spun to see my uncle listening intently. I don’t know how long he’d been standing there, or how much he’d heard. I sensed it wasn’t long. He smiled sadly at me then walked to the table and quietly sat down across from me.
“What about before?” he asked. “What do you recall?”
“With Shackleton? I don’t remember. Nothing at all. To tell you the truth, I don’t think I want to remember what happened, or what he did to me so please don’t make me try to remember…”
I swished my coffee around in my cup, struggling not to cry. I frowned down, and the sunny yellow plate mocked me. Glenda pulled up a chair and sat down next to me, her knees touching mine. With that simple touch, I felt her kindness more keenly than her soft words.
“I know what he did to me,” my uncle began, “and I hoped you were spared that but this loss of memory…”
“We don’t want to force this on you,” she said. “Maybe it’s best you don’t remember, but we want to know where he kept you. All these years and we’ve never found where Shackleton lives– where he hides. If you know, your uncle would end all this forever. He’d never bother any of us again.”
I had a good idea how he would end it. Pretty similar to Glenda’s solution before– only a bit more permanent and grisly. Not a comforting thought especially when I pondered that same fate could be mine by Shackleton’s hand– or worse it could be the fate of someone I loved.
I hesitated. I knew where he’d taken me before– to the Community, but this was a different time and place. Shackleton took the other Wes somewhere. I doubted he took me to somewhere sterile like the Community. This was all so confusing, not knowing where my life began here.
“I don’t know where,” I said honestly. “My guess is somewhere near where he buried me.”
“We’ve searched for years there. How he can keep where he hides a secret, I don’t know.”
With no one to stop Shackleton, he probably preformed horrific acts on me. Judging from my condition before Shackleton buried me and my past experience with Shackleton, I thought my uncle’s suspicions were right. I just didn’t want to think about the hell Wes in my universe was living through now. That Wes knew where Shackleton took me. All the more reason for me to try to switch back. If we could, then he could tell Uncle Dan and then maybe they could stop Shackleton– at least in one universe.
Maybe I should try to remember. What if I could never go back?
“I don’t know. It’s all a blank, but I have nightmares. I’m not sure what is real anymore.”
Glenda reached out, thumb brushing a tear off my cheek. Transfused in the touch was love and protection. No malice. As her finger left, I still felt it there, a calming reminder.
“Wes, look at me,” he ordered, and I raised my eyes to his. I felt them pierce through me. “Tell me. Who are you?”
“I was Wesley Grant. I hope I still am.”
He reached over and grabbed my hand and in one instant I knew what he knew– that I wasn’t his Wes. I stared into his eyes. We understood each other.
“I need to go see Mr. Keller. I need to go to the greenhouse. I have to see that some things haven’t changed,” I admitted.
Glenda frowned, looking from me to my uncle. She studied both our faces. She knew some silent words had passed between us. She just didn’t know what.
“Eat,” she said, pointing at my pancakes. She hesitated, deciding what was the best action to take. “It’s time for me to wake your brother.” Glenda started for the door, tightening the belt of her bathrobe, then turned.
Uncle Dan waited for her to leave the kitchen, then asked: “Is there anything else you need to tell me?”
“Yes, but–” I concentrated on my plate. “I don’t know where to begin.”
“Go visit Mr. Keller, but when you get home tonight we’ll talk, just you and I.”
I nodded, and then he left me alone in the old kitchen to finish my pancakes and think.
——————
The sign on the front of the store said “Help Wanted.” I had to admit I was a little pissed that they’d try to replace me at the flower shop. I’d always figured I was pretty indispensable. I sucked it up and opened the door. Probably needed to hire two people to replace me. I’d thought about calling first to let Mr. Keller know I was coming in– maybe if I had Mr. Keller might have taken down that stupid sign. Mr. Keller was standing at the front counter on the phone when I walked up the steps. He turned as he heard the door ring.
His face glowed when he saw me. Change jingled in his pocket with his free hand and with the other he cupped the phone. I’d never seen him get off the phone so fast. Next I knew I was in this crushing bear hug my legs swinging around and around as he spun me. I felt his belly jiggle as he laughed. His smock smelled of Cuban cigars and Sea Breeze. He set me down with a kiss on the cheek. Guess I didn’t have to worry about any stupid Help Wanted sign.
Alan walked up the steps from the back greenhouse.
“About time you decided to show up…” he whined, throwing me an empty watering can. “Make yourself useful and give the plants on the front room floor a drink.”
I caught the can then set it down then leaped into Alan’s arms and planted a sloppy kiss on his lips.
“Hi to you too!” I winked.
I’d never seen Alan blush before.
It was almost like being home.
——————-
I wasn’t in much of a hurry to get home and talk to Uncle Dan so I took my time getting home. I drove by my old house, which was still intact and untouched by fire. Obviously it never was my house– I could just make out colorful red and blue swing-set over the six-foot privacy fence surrounding the yard. A tri-cycle was left haphazardly in the driveway, ready to be crushed by the white mini-van parked in front of it. The lawn had yellow patches.
Next I drove by Lynn’s apartment. It looked the same– a familiar old Ford truck was parked in her driveway instead of her white Intrepid. The curtains were replaced by shades in the front window. Alan came out the door and went to his truck.
As for my parent’s house– it wasn’t there. Nothing remained. A modular home stood in its place all symmetrical and plastic with pointed corners and neat square juniper shrubs lining the drive.
I hadn’t wanted to know what life was like for Wes here, but I’d skirted around the painful memory of my family. They were still gone, Mom, Dad and Karen. Our family home erased. I lived with my aunt and uncle now.
This ride down memory lane made my stomach churn and my throat tighten. Nothing felt real. None of this. What I sought was the familiar; what I found was foreign. For a few fleeting moments at work, I felt myself. Now, it was washed with the uncanny feeling that I didn’t belong in my own skin.
I thought about tomorrow night and what I hoped would happen on stage and prayed that bit of sand would work.
Soon I found the car driving itself down Sid’s street. His Cutlass was there, not a speck of salt on it all clean and waxed, chrome glinting in the setting sun. I smiled and hummed. That was the Sid I knew– his car was a polished and shiny extension of his psyche. I drove around the block on autopilot, finding myself back where I came from and romancing thoughts of Sid with his hands between my legs with me sprawled out in those comfy white vinyl backseat of his. Mechanically I pulled into his drive way. I could have called my turning the steering wheel happenstance; I knew better. I sat in Les’s car for the longest time, swearing under my breath for even being in Sid’s driveway. I still felt sick to my stomach, but I didn’t leave, cursing my weakness. I could blame the pain in the pit of my gut on reliving the past or maybe on skipping lunch or maybe even on those pancakes this morning. I pressed my forehead against the steering-wheel then decided to punctuate my idiocy with a bit of self-loathing, banging my forehead against the wheel chanting, ‘stupid, stupid, stupid’ when suddenly the god damned car alarm malfunctioned. I sat up and fumbled for the keys in the ignition to turn the thing off. Can’t find the button… fucking fabulous, I thought.
Why am I even trying? I should just go see Sid. I threw my hands up in the air and gave in. I grabbed the handle and started to open the door when the alarm turned itself off. Quickly my brain reminded my dick what a fatal mistake it might be for me to get out of the car. But it was too late– as I slammed the door and put the car into reverse, Sid sauntered out.
He knocked on the driver’s window, and I jumped. I had hoped I could back the car out and pretend I hadn’t seen him. Now I was screwed. Or maybe he was screwed. I smiled to myself. Screw, screw, screw. Not an unpleasant thought. So I put the car in park, left it running and rolled down the window. I tried to look cool. I kinda slid my body closer to the window, flopped one wrist over the steering wheel while I adjusted the rearview mirror with my other hand, checking myself in it. My unavailing nonchalant ‘I could give a fuck’ aura wasn’t cutting it.
“Are you going to come in or not?” he asked, and I turned my head and looked at him: The rich gold of the setting sun caught Sid’s eyes. God, they looked perfect. I looked back up into the rearview mirror. Not smart. Not smart to look in his eyes. Sid cleared his throat and my eyes slid back in his direction. His hands were shoved deep in his pockets, and he bounced up and down to keep warm.
“Well? Are you getting out?” he repeated. I could see the breath puff out of his mouth. Great lips. Why did he have to look so damned handsome in that old stained suede jacket?
“Not!” I blurted. “Not! Not getting out!”
My heart hammered clear up to my throat. I ached to feel something real. Sid was my touchstone, my center. I knew I had the power to make or break that same heart that was clamoring inside my chest. But I had to do what was best for Sid’s heart too.
“Hm-m, you sound sure, but you don’t act sure. Better come in.”
I could do this. He smiled at me and I smiled back. I turned off the car.
I opened the car door and got out, looking over my shoulder. That’s when I noticed the white SUV parked across the street. Fuck, it looked like Shackleton with some other guy I didn’t recognize. Probably some minion. That’s what I got for becoming so distracted with Sid. I kicked myself silently for becoming too comfortable and believing Shackleton would actually leave me to travel off to some time or place away from here. I took another quick look. No, it was him or some other version of him watching me, watching us from across the street.
I wasn’t sure whether to get Sid back into the car and drive off or follow Sid back into the house and call for help. I decided to pretend I didn’t see Shackleton and make for the house.
I couldn’t follow Sid into his house quickly enough.
“What’s wrong?” Sid asked, as I nudged him the rest of the way through the door. “What’s this all about?” I shut the door behind me.
“Shackleton is outside,” I said under my breath as I threw the deadbolt, “I just noticed him when I got out of the car. Hurry, give me your phone…”
I calmed myself and turned to watch Sid. He rushed over to the coffee table and grabbed the phone. As he walked back to me, the phone rang in his hand and he froze. His shoulder tightened then relaxed as he looked at the caller id.
“It’s home… it’s your uncle,” he said, handing me the cordless.
A familiar voice croaked “Hello?” Shit, I was so happy to hear Les’s voice I wanted to kiss him.
“Yes?! Thank you,” I half shouted. “Les, get Uncle Daniel on the phone right now! Shackleton is here. He’s outside Sid’s house–”
“Fuck!” Les shouted. “I knew something was wrong– I knew it!” The phone clattered as Les dropped the phone. I waited. Then I heard a dial tone.
“Disconnected,” I said, throwing the phone on the couch. “Doesn’t matter. They’ll be on their way in a moment. Until then, let’s hope Shackleton and his friend aren’t wise to us and try to break in.”
Sid had moved and stood flush against the wall, straining through his picture window’s blinds to see the front door. I stepped next to him to look; a man in a dark trench coat stood with his back to the front door, watching the street. I could hear Sid whispering instructions into his cell phone when I heard glass breaking and a loud thump from the bedroom.
“They’re in the house,” he whispered into the phone. “And the doors are blocked.”
Sid pulled me away from the window when I heard the frame from the backdoor groan and splinter just as Shackleton came out of the bedroom. Blood pounded in my ears and everything slowed.
Trent broke through the back door.
“Shit.” I sure as hell wasn’t sticking around with Sid to find out whose side Trent was on in this universe. With a crash, I flung Sid’s old rocking chair out the picture window as Shackleton raced across the room. Trent tackled him as I smashed my hand against a glass claw hanging down, then yanked Sid out the window behind me, trying my best to defect the glass from Sid. We rolled out the window, over the juniper bushes below and into a dirty snow bank. The momentum left us both on our knees in the melting snow. My keys were still in my hand but now they were soaked in my blood. A large shard of glass stuck out between two of my fingers. I was numb. Sid pulled me up to my feet. Our friend who was the door was on top of us, and he swung at Sid, catching him on the chin. Sid barely flinched. The air was quiet around us. I could hear Sid taking a deep breath then his arm came up. Sid slammed a solid punch in the guy’s gut, bending him forward. As out attacker straightened his frame, Sid quickly hit him in the jaw. He spat out his blood on his sleeve then reached inside his coat and came at us again. Great, I thought, A fucking switch blade. To make matters worse, I watched in slow motion as the front door opened and Shackleton appeared. He came down the steps and made a straight line to us.
I shoved Sid toward the car, then turned and hit the man looming over me in the eye with everything I had. I felt the sickening crunch of the glass grinding against my bone and his as I turned my fist. He screamed, dropping to his knees with the blade still clutched in one hand while the other clawed at his face. He made a wild jab with his knife just grazing my arm as I sped off to the car.
Shackleton was behind me, as I jumped in. Sid was already inside. He hit the automatic door lock the moment I was inside. Sid made our get away like in some old gangster movie, tires burning rubber as we high-tailed in reverse then spun out fish tailing forward down the quiet little suburban street.
“Shit, sorry about the window,” I said, swearing as I ripped the glass out of my hand. “How much do you think it will cost to replace it?” I felt Sid’s eyes studying me. I looked over at him, rolled down the window and flicked the glass out it.
“Don’t know– never jumped through it before this…” he answered. looking behind us. He wiped the blood out his eyes where it trickled from a cut Sid had on his forehead. Other than that he looked unscratched from where I sat. The gash didn’t look too deep, but probably would need stitches. Pretty lucky that was all that happened back there.
He checked behind us again then began to laugh.
“What’s so funny?” I asked.
“All this,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “God, all the trouble you went through for Shackleton to not know about me, and he still knew. He’s known for a hell of a long time. I actually talked to the son-of-a-bitch months ago before you disappeared. I noticed him watching the house, and I confronted him. He told me he was a private investigator watching the neighbor’s house. Said the husband hired him to find out if his wife was going out on him. Man am I gullible.”
“I guess Trent must know too,” I said.
“Trent? You mean that guy you said helped you before?” he asked.
“Yeah, and I’m glad he was watching today. That was him that came through the back door and tried to stop Shackleton. Hope he’s ok. You know the guy has been pretty much a pain in the ass in each universe, but he’s true to what he believes in each. I can’t help but like him. He came through for us here.”
I wiped the blood from my hand revealing a neat scar underneath.
“God, that’s amazing. Wish I healed like that,” he said, pointing to his forehead.
“No you don’t,” I sighed. I patted his knee then gave him a sad smile.
“I guess not.”
I watched the road ahead. I could have lectured him on why he didn’t want to be like me, but I was too tired and too over-wrought to explain the cost of becoming immortal.
I saw Sid turn around and look again. “He’s not following us.”
“Of course not– he doesn’t have to. He knows exactly where we’re going.”
“How are you going to explain me? Hey,” he said, pointing in the other lane. “Isn’t that your Uncle Dan?”
He honked the horn as the car sped past us. Sid slowed and looked into the rearview mirror. I turned to see the break lights come on.
“Uncle Dan already knows who I am. But he doesn’t know about us. At least I don’t think he does. Not sure what I should tell him about that.” Sid slowed the car as Uncle Dan pulled around and pulled next to our car. “Maybe I’ll tell him the truth,” I said quietly.
My uncle rolled down his window, and Sid did the same.
“You ok?” Uncle Dan asked.
I nodded back. “Fine. We’re both fine, but Sid will need some stitches I think…”
“Meet you back at home. We’ll take care of your friend there. I’ll follow you.”
Sid rolled the window back up and turned to me.
“The truth, and what would that be?” he asked me.
“What ever my heart tells me…”
Instead of being tough I let it all out.
I could do that in front of him. If he wasn’t driving I would have grabbed and clutched and thrown my face blubbering into his jacket. Yeah, tough me. Instead I used the back of my own hand to wipe my snot and tears. Not very absorbent.
What I really needed was reassurance. Holding him would probably give me that back. Instead he held me. He leaned into me, his arm enveloped me and he kissed my neck then rested his forehead against my temple while I silently cried. I began to feel that spark and light inside me again. I needed him. Warmth spread, and for a change it wasn’t just my hormones in overdrive. After I had a good cry, I told him that I would love him in any universe. I told him what to expect from his Wes when he returned to him. I told him that if his Wes never returned, I would be here.
For him.
I told him I would yell I love him from my aunt and uncle’s roof top. Then I put my arm around him while he cried.
————————–
Uncle Dan’s car was parked in the back. I was surprised but thankful to see my uncle beat us home. We wouldn’t have to face Glenda’s wrath alone.
She stood on the porch, waiting. Sid and I sat in the car as it idled for a few minutes in the driveway. He grimaced then reached over for my hand, and I leaned into him as he turned off the car. The cut on his forehead looked nasty. His eyelids fluttered as my finger tips lightly traced the cut.
“Better?” I asked. Sid bit his lip and nodded– then he looked into the rearview mirror, lightly touching his forehead, wiping away the blood. His own finger traced the clean scar where the gash once was. He looked at me confused.
“How?”
“I don’t know, I just do it,” I answered.
“This is amazing. You didn’t tell me you could heal people. Just think of the money you could rake in as televangelist.”
“Well, it’s not something that I want to become common knowledge. It’s one of those abilities the Community and Shackleton covet. I wouldn’t normally do it, but I don’t think you’re going to get to a doctor any time soon.”
He squeezed my hand and then feigned a cough. “Can you get rid of a cold?”
I blushed thinking about touching his chest. I laughed then looked toward the porch.
“Well, not today,” I said, nodding to Glenda. “I guess we should get out and get this over with…”
We walked up to the house like two inmates on death row. She fixedly stared at me then Sid. I glared right back at her. She scowled down at Sid’s forehead as I climbed up the front stairs, two steps ahead of him. It seemed to me she should act more concerned than pissed off. Christ– we were both covered in blood. I looked into her face. Her lips and brow were an unforgiving line. I knew she’d witnessed everything in the car– that was kinda the point of my little exhibition when I healed him. I figured it would save time if she knew what Sid meant to me, that he knew what I was, what we are, besides he had needed attention. He was in pain. As I brushed past her, my hand intentionally came in contact with hers, hoping to get some insight into what she was thinking with some of my psychic sense. Maybe I could pass on a bit of what I was thinking to her. Most times my powers came and went like so much wind, but this time they worked– like 2000 volts I saw into her. She knew. And she didn’t like what she saw.
Well fuck, this wasn’t going to be pleasant.
As I walked into the house, I felt something was off. I’ve heard of times when people know something just isn’t right– like moments before a car accident or some natural disaster. I’ve had some of those moments recently, too. As I listened to the old grandfather clock tic-tocking, I felt the universe miss– like it was out of sync. I balled my right hand into a fist. I felt my finger tingling where I’d touched her hand. I was unsure and afraid of what to say. I wasn’t at all positive that she wasn’t a threat to Sid.
As she followed us into the living room, I got that familiar ache behind my eyes. Tension headache number 2,012. Finding out that I wasn’t the ‘Wes’ she thought I was didn’t make her too happy either. She already figured that bit of the puzzle out at breakfast this morning. Those pancakes were made with love for someone else named Wes, not me. I knew she was afraid of Shackleton. But it was Sid whom she feared most right now. I knew it wasn’t going to be easy convincing her that Sid could be trusted without becoming one of them. She hated the idea of bringing a mortal, no matter how noble, into their inner circle.
I was glad to see my uncle in the living room. I hoped he was on our side. He sat cross legged on the old couch, his rumpled gray suit coat strewn over the arm of the sofa.
I collected my nerves and pulled Sid’s hand, leading him to the piano bench, intentionally divorcing us from them. The legs of the bench scraped against the hardwood floor, reverberating in the hollow room. We both sat down. The bench was hard and unforgiving. Sid was at a loss, his hands fumbling for something to do. I shoved my hands between my legs. He looked to me for a sign– some help I was. I didn’t know what to do, so I grabbed his hand.
Glenda’s eyes turned to ice as she stared at our clasped hands. Not the right move on my part.
My voice came out squeaky. “So you know. I’m sorry. I can’t help what I feel.” I felt like a kid.
“Feel? Can’t help what you feel? Control yourself,” she paced the room. “You must or all is lost. Plotting out all the possible ramifications for each action you may take– that is the way. Shackleton seeks pain for a reason. Feeling makes us weak. He would make us all feel as you do. Bring us down. Break us as he did you. He may have the secret now. You do not have to act on what you feel. Think! Separate yourself! Feeling causes pain. Chaos. It destroys.”
She stopped pacing and stopped, facing us. I couldn’t believe she had everything so wrong. She thought Shackleton wanted my ability to feel pain so he could use it against immortals. No. He wanted it for himself.
Her eyes narrowed on Sid. “And you!” she hissed. “What are you? What kind of spell do you cast that causes such desire, such pain, such chaos?”
Sid opened his mouth to speak, but I cleared my throat and found my voice instead: “You’re wrong. Sid is not the cause. Neither is pain. Feeling doesn’t have to destroy. You’ve forgotten what it’s like. Pain can be a blessing. It is what kept me alive all that time when I was buried alive. I didn’t age, didn’t break down. Shackleton took nothing from me but time and blood. He never touched my mind or heart. My thoughts were my own, my heart is my own. He took nothing important from me. Nothing that mattered. Look at Shackleton. It’s easy for him to inflict pain. He feels nothing. In his twisted way, he’s living through others’ pain. He doesn’t want to give pain away. He doesn’t want to shove it on you. He wants it for himself.”
“How do you know this? Did he tell you?” asked my uncle.
“I experience it…”
“I think it’s pretty evident,” Sid interrupted. “Tormenting others is just a plus for him; it’s not his goal. He wants power. He wants what Wes can do. Move from one universe to the next.”
“You!” Glenda exclaimed. “What do you know about any of this?”
“I know he’s a power hungry manic,” he answered. “I know Shackleton’s insane.”
“Why did you bring him into all this?” she asked me. “Why did you?”
“I ask myself that all the time. Do you think I want to put someone I love in this kind of peril? Shackleton knows about him. He knows Wes loves him. He knows I love him.”
“So he’s using him against you? That’s just perfect! This needs to end. End it now with him.”
“I can’t and neither can your Wes… I love him.”
“Love?” she spat. “That is the source of all weakness.”
“You say you love me. Do you think that is a weakness?”
“Yes. My only weakness is that I love. You, Les, my brother… It is the only source of pain I feel.”
“You should feel it. How can you truly love if you don’t know pain?”
“Enough of this,” my uncle interrupted, turning to me. “You seem to think you know what Shackleton wanted from you. Tell us if you know.”
“I’m not sure. But Sid’s right; he is crazy. The insane aren’t run by logic. He thinks he knows what he wants, but he doesn’t. He thinks he wants to be a god: travel through universes; feel passion and pain; he wants it all. He wants control. He believes my blood carries the answer. I don’t know if it does.”
“I suppose you think he wants love, too.” Glenda spat at me.
“Ultimately, he does– but he doesn’t know it.” I squeezed Sid’s hand. “He’s searching for it– but you can’t find something when you don’t know what you’re looking for.”
She looked at Sid.
“What are we to do with him?” she asked me.
“Nothing. Leave him alone. What threat is he to any of you? The only threat he holds is in your mind.”
“And when you leave, and our Wes comes back to us, do you expect us to just ignore him?”
“His name is Sid, and no, I don’t expect you to ignore him– I expect you to embrace him.”
“You expect too much.”
“Mom used to tell me that I should set my expectations high,” I said.
“Your mom expected so much of others she ended up dead.”
I was dumbfounded. What did she know about my life? My parents? She could never take that verbal slap in the face back.
“You don’t know what I came from. You don’t know who I am. I hope I can return to my universe or time– Wes in this time won’t let you touch him either. Hurt him and you hurt us. Harm him– now or in the future– we’ll all find out exactly how much power I hold. I don’t think you want to know. You think love is your weakness, but it’s not mine. Love is the source of my strength.”
——————-
We came to a compromise. Sid and I slept in separate rooms. I’d keep my distance for now. I was satisfied Glenda would leave Sid alone. What went unsaid was making Sid like us. I didn’t want to bring it up in front of Sid. He didn’t need to know this was even an ‘option’– not in this universe.
The night before, I knew Sid would be safe in the room next to me. Uncle Dan stayed downstairs, talking with Glenda late into the night. I stole downstairs and talked to them both– without Sid.
As I got ready for my night’s performance, I patted the baggie in my front pocket. This had to work. I’d flatted out the sand in the bag and crammed it into my leather jeans and practiced reaching into my pocket with my guitar in my hand. The leather pants were kind of tight, but I could manage to get my hand down in them fine.
Then I did the Coach Davis pep talk in the bathroom mirror. I yelled so loud at myself, Les knocked at my door to see what was wrong. Then I impersonated my high school chem teacher, Mr. Dammarest, giving his pre AP exam pump up. Being nervous and hyped was good.
Les and I left late to go to the Road House. I’d be nice to see the place again when it wasn’t a charred heap like it was in my universe. We left late because I was nervous. I wanted to see the place again, I wanted to set up, get ready, prepare myself– but I spent half my time talking to myself in the mirror, trying to get into the right state of mind. How the fuck does anyone gets into the right state of mind to jump universes?
Sitting in the car mindlessly watching the houses go past as Les drove, all I could think of was how much I wanted Sid, but he rode with my uncle. The last hours we’d been kept separated. I believed putting space between us was best. I didn’t trust myself with the roses so close and Sid so near. Keeping him at a distance was my uncle’s and my way to appease Aunt Glenda. I felt like I was in withdrawal with him so near. My stomach lurched. My hands shook. Christ, when I saw him I broke out into a sweat. I kept blaming the fucking roses. I hoped denying my fix would work to my advantage. Yeah, being edgy will take me back to my Sid. I was terrified tonight would work, and I was terrified it wouldn’t.
Les hummed the theme song to Gilligan’s Island as he made a detour, turning into McDonald’s. I counted the greasy smudges on the take-out window as he paid for his number three value meal. I didn’t get anything. My stomach was churning enough already without a Big Mac and coke. My legs were jumping like I was wired with caffeine. Les pulled out onto Michigan Avenue, and I pushed down on my knees to stop them from bouncing when he nailed the brakes, and I heard our tires screeching. The car in the far lane stopped the same time we did. My arms didn’t react in time– my nose smacking the dash board.
“What the fuck?” I hissed, holding my nose. “That’s what I get for not putting on my seatbelt.”
“Had to slam on the brakes–” Les said, chewing on a fry. “Damn cat just crossed our path.” He reached for another limp fry then pointed to the black cat skittering off the side of the road. He looked at me sideways. “You ok? How’s your nose?”
“Yeah, I’m fine, but I bit my fucking tongue, too.”
“Probably tastes better than this quarter pounder with cheese.”
I wasn’t one to believe in bad omens, but that fucking black cat had me nervous. Shit.
The rest of the ride was uneventful, just old country side roads littered with potholes. We pulled into the back lot of the Road House and started to unload our equipment from Les’s back seat when Les looked down at me and laughed.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“You better rearrange that bulge,” Les pointed to my crotch. “People will think we’re in love…”
I blushed as I looked down. Damn tight leather pants gave everything away.
“Shit,” I said, jumping around. “It’s the sand–”
“Ha– that’s a new one,” Les grinned.
“No seriously, it’s the baggie with sand in it.” I squirmed around, trying to shift the contents of my pocket.
I heard Lynn’s squeal too late. My body lurched forward as she jumped on my back, wrapping her arms around my throat like a boa constrictor. I dropped my guitar case.
“Fuck Lynn, you’re choking me!”
She mussed my hair before letting me go and giving me a noisy kiss on the cheek.
“Can’t wait to hear you play again, baby.”
“Yeah, I can’t wait to play either.” I smiled wide and giggled. She was a beautiful sight. Tight white linen skirt with sling backs. All bounces and bubbles with her hair perfect, lips bright. I thought she looked like she’d burst any moment from excitement. She teetered, beaming beside me.
“You look great,” I said. “Special occasion?”
“Well of course it is!” she said, hitting me hard in the shoulder making me drop my guitar for the second time. “You’re playing– you nimrod!”
Damn that hurt. I massaged my shoulder and picked my case back up.
Lynn followed us through the back door, chattering animatedly the whole while. I tried to pay attention to what she said, but I was too distracted. She was so much, wah, wah, wah.
He was already there. I walked in and saw him. Sid leaned against the wall to the right of the stage, talking to Jimbo.
He hadn’t noticed me yet. Sid laughed at Jimbo. I sighed. Christ, Sid looked handsome. Flannel shirt, slow smile and faded jeans. His smile became mine as he turned to me. I waved him over, and I wasn’t sure why. I just wanted him near.
Uncle Dan sat at the front table with a glass of beer in his hand watching. He didn’t approve, but at this point, I didn’t give a shit. Aunt Glenda hadn’t come. She didn’t like smoke or drunks. I could tell by the way he was watching, she’d expect a detailed report from him when he got home. Uncle Dan. I’d never get used to calling him my that. He just didn’t look like anyone’s uncle to me… not mine for sure.
I bent down and opened my case. My palms were itchy and sweaty.
“Help me?” I asked.
“Sure,” Sid answered, raising his eyebrow as he looked down, “but first explain why your face is flushed and smeared with lipstick, and why you’ve got a raging hard-on.”
I wiped my cheek, sputtering.
“Fuck, I… Lynn… I mean… she kissed me… I mean… Oh, fuck!” I felt my face getting hotter and hotter. “It’s not me– it’s sand in my pocket. Damn. Want to see?!”
“No, that’s quite alright. I’ve seen enough,” he said, waving his hands in front of his eyes.
“Hey, you’re enjoying this!”
“Yeah, well, you’re so damn cute when you’re flustered.”
Sid helped set up. My stomach did somersaults and hand springs every time he brushed my arm or leg. Cripes.
——————
The first set went by fast. I joked and jumped around on stage. Les, Uncle Dan and Sid never took their eyes off me, waiting for my transformation. I did well at first. Songs I didn’t know, I faked. I couldn’t keep it up though. By the second set, I was so anxious, I started forgetting a lot of the lyrics and riffs I did know. I wasn’t sure if it was me or being watched every second like I was going to disappear in a cloud of smoke. As the set ended and we walked to the side of the stage, Les pulled me aside.
“You alright?” Les asked.
“You can take a break this set,” Smith suggested, tinkering with his earring. “Get yourself together. No pressure.You’re still not yourself.”
I shook my head and said, “No, I want to play. I have to…”
Shit, not myself, Smith didn’t know how close he was. John rubbed my back, working out the tension between my shoulders, “You’ll get over the first night back jitters before we finish.”
I threw back three gulps of water and poured some over my head. Fuck it was hot in here tonight.
I shook the water out of my hair as I stepped out with the guys to play again. My fan club cheered me on as I picked up my guitar. Lynn, the leader, bounced wildly– waving, blowing kisses, and grinning at me. The sand had shifted again into a big bulge. I felt like that heavy metal rocker who shoves a sock down their pants to impress the ladies. What’s his name? Axl Rose?
I was wired. Sweat dripped off my nose and my hands were slick from both the heat of this close, hot place and raw nerves. By the time we neared the end of the third set, I felt confident. Les belted out the first words to “It’s the End of the World as We Know It,” and I nodded at Sid, sitting with a strained smile on his face. The dance floor filled in seconds, blocking Sid’s table from my view. There wasn’t a space left on the floor by the time Les got to the second verse. I noticed the entire band was in their own little worlds. Les was immersed in the story of the song– eyes closed, fingers effortlessly gliding on his Fender. Smith smiled lazily, watching Les. Jimbo winked at his new significant other, who sat watching us at the side of the stage. John strained his eyes looking through the nuts to butts, searching for that special someone to take home after the show. Someone long on legs but short on brains. And me– I listened to Les’s perfect vocals, and in the back of my mind I decided it was time.
The place smelled of sweat, beer and cheap cigarettes while Les sang:
The other night I dreamt of knives, continental Drift divide. Mountains sit in a line, Leonard Bernstein. Leonid Brezhnev, Lenny Bruce and Lester Bangs. Birthday party, cheesecake, jelly bean, boom! You Symbiotic, patriotic, slam book neck, right? right
And I stepped up beside him and sang into the mic, my face pressed into his, our voices melding:
It’s the end of the world as we know it It’s the end of the world as we know it It’s the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine…
The hairs on my arms stood on end as I took a shaky step back, counting one, two, three.
I closed my eyes and whispered the only thing that would come to me, “There’s no place like home.” My right hand dropped from the guitar. I open and closed my fist. Silly, honest, pain churned in my gut as I hiccupped nervously, then stretched the leather of my pocket with the fingers on my right hand, reaching, reaching, reaching in. I heard my harem fan club in front of the stage howl as I groped deeper in my pocket. I knew Les’s eyes were on me. I felt the bag. Nothing like feeling myself up in front of the crowd.
The clapping hands, stomping feet faded. I struggled to open the seal on the baggie. I slipped one finger, unlocking one corner, reaching into the sand. Behind my eyes, I saw it glitter or imagined I did. It clung to my damp fingers, becoming a part of me. I couldn’t smell the cigarettes or the beer or the sweat anymore. Instead, the room smelled like ozone after a storm. Then I heard Sid to my right calling my name. I opened my eyes, and I wasn’t in Kansas anymore.
I was in Pontiac.
With a jolt I saw an ocean of bodies, swaying in front of me. My eyes adjusted. The sparks of light from the sand turned to hundreds of lighters flickering. They were everywhere– high, low, thrust up into the seats like twinkling stars in the night. The last notes from the song still lingered in the stadium, and the rhythmic applause vibrated the floor of our stage. I was frozen.
It worked. I was back.
Smith turned to me, frowning, then raised an eye bow wondering what the hell was wrong with me. John and Jimbo looked to me, and I realized they expected me to speak– do something. Les stepped next to me, linking his arm through mine where my hand was in still snug in my pocket. My face was hot. Les pulled me forward, hugging me next to him. The chanting, my name and the band’s name, the syllables expanded like ripples. I listened for the one voice I wanted to hear. My head turned slowly to the right when I heard it. Sid stood by amps.
Dressed in a suit and tie.
Hands in this pockets.
Jingling his change.
Smiling.
For me.
He knew. He knew it was me.
I laughed and cried, hugging Les. Then I turned to the crowd. I waited my whole life to play in front of an audience this size in this place. I’d been here so many times, and dreamed of standing in this spot on stage. Playing the Silverdome. Shit. And I missed the whole show. Waving my candy apple red Gibson above my head like a flag, I heard Les shout above the crowd.
The stadium quieted.
“You win!” he hollered. “One More Song,” and the place erupted. He cupped his hand to my ear and yelled into it, “Good to have you back.”
He pinched my cheek, then took one step back.
“You’re on!” he nodded.
I panicked.
“But what are we playing?” I yelled back.
“What are you crazy? You’re playing ‘One More Song’… ” he waved, bowed, then stepped back beside Smith. Leaving me. Center stage. Alone.
For the rest of my life, I will never forget that split second of terror.
I blew on my fingers then wiped the sand off on the front of my legs. I smiled at Sid, then I struck the first chord. I sang the words to this song I’d written for him. Only for him.
My soul gave the best performance of my life.
——————
Afterward. Cosmic. Surreal. I was hustled backstage, through the corridors, out the back entrance, into the tour bus. No Sid. He’d disappeared. Smith and Les were already curled up together in the back. I sat in the seat in front of them.
“Might as well relax,” Les whispered to me. “It’ll be a few minutes.”
I leaned my back against the window, threw my legs across the seat and waited, watching the front of the bus.
“Where do we go from here?” I asked.
“Off to the hotel. We’re staying at the Hilton. I think it’s near here…”
“Near here?” Smith mumbled, opening an eye and looking at Les. “It’s fucking across the street.”
I rubbed my pocket and tried to get comfortable as possible.
“Throw me one of your pillows,” I said, looking to the front of the bus again. “This window is hard.”
“Mmm, need something soft to lean into?” Smith said. “Sid’ll be here in a few. He’s just making sure everything’s in order for tomorrow night.”
I nodded. But I still watched the front of the bus, waiting.
Sid was loosening his tie as he came up the steps, his soulful hazel eyes meeting mine. Smith nudged my shoulder and laughed but my eyes never left Sid’s as I swung my legs off the seat and watched him walk down the aisle.
He stood in front of me, chin quivering twice as he sat down. He pressed his lips together tight, composing himself. His eyes smiled. When he touched my arm, it was all over with. I wrapped my arms around him and squeezed him so tight he groaned.
“Geeze,” said Smith, “you think you hadn’t seen him for months or something…”
Sid and I both looked at him and laughed. The bus started to move.
—————————-
I fidgeted, standing in the corner. The elevator doors at the Hilton whooshed shut, and it lurched up.
“How safe is this thing?” I asked, pressing my hand flat to the wall and looking up at the ceiling. Not that someone invincible should worry, but shit, it might be painful falling five stories.
“This is a four star hotel. I’m sure it’s safe. Want to test it?” He gave me a wicked smile and punched his finger into the red button labeled ’emergency only.’ The elevator lurched again– this time to a stop. He slammed his body into me, thighs inching mine apart, toes mashing into my instep and cheek pressing hard into my forehead.
“God, I’ve waited for this…” he moaned, his mouth covering mine. His tasted like cinnamon Life-Savers.
Time stopped. I could feel every inch of him– and I mean every inch– as he ground me into the corner. I whimpered as he took his mouth from mine. I pulled on his tie with one hand to bring him in tighter, closer. “I’ve always wanted to fuck on an elevator…” he whispered into my ear then licked it, sending heat straight from my earlobe to my cock. He teeth tugged on my ear as his hard cock rubbed into my growing erection. “Sorry we don’t have enough time for that.” I yanked his tie again as he broke contact; his nose bumped into mine. “We’ll have to wait until I get in you in the room for me to do you proper.”
“Fuck–” I moaned, watching him lick his bottom lip. Then he kneeled in front on me, grabbing my hips, rocking me forward so that I had to throw my arms out against the sides of the elevator to brace myself. His hands slid up my calves then pressed on up my legs, caressing my inner thighs, cupping my balls. My legs buckled as he absently brushed my cock and reached for the zipper on my leather pants.
“This will have to do,” he said.
I thought I’d come right there.
“Jesus–” He pulled my cock out, already hard and anxious to feel the inside of his mouth. I looked at the top of his sandy head, his eyelashes fluttered. I could see his nose twitching. God I’d missed this view.
I leaned back into the corner as I felt the sloppy, slick grip of his mouth. His teeth scraped lightly against the head of my dick. His head jerked a bit as we both heard voices above us. He knew he didn’t have much time to tease me. He grabbed my ass and thrust me hard into his mouth, hitting the back of his throat. With quick, hard thrusts, he made it his goal to make me come fast. His mouth was urgent. The voices from above became louder. I looked down and saw those perfect lips around my cock and that was it for me. My thighs tensed.
I came in his mouth as the elevator jerked up.
I think it was evident what we were doing in the elevator. Sid was wiping his satisfied grin and my come off his mouth when the door opened. I barely had time to put my dick back in my pants and zip them. I knew the moment I saw my uncle’s face go from a look of concern to annoyed that he was pissed.
Sid hustled me off down the hall to our room. I didn’t look back once.