《Something Like Autumn 》by Jay Bell
内容简介：
Love can appear unexpectedly: a chance meeting at a friend's wedding, the arrival of a handsome new co-worker... or while being robbed at a convenience store.
For some, love seems an impossible dream. Growing up gay in small-town Missouri, Jace Holden thought his chance would never come. When he meets Victor--a wild soul and fellow outsider--his chances of finding love go from bleak to a very uncertain maybe. Bracing his heart, Jace chases after his desire, hoping for a warm hand to hold his tight.
Something Like Autumn tells the story of Jace's life before the events of Something Like Summer, while also revisiting his time with Benjamin Bentley.
Part One:
Missouri, 1990
Chapter One
My name is Jace Holden, and today is the day I die. Words have
always come easy for me, which makes it strange that I struggle with
them now. Knowing that my time is coming to an end, there’s so much I
want to say. Mom, Dad, I want you to know that this isn’t your fault.
You’ve always given me everything I needed, and I always felt loved, but
you don’t know who I am. I hid the truth from you. I’m sorry for that and
for what I’m about to do… have done, by the time you read this. But you
need to understand that it’s better for me to die now when, as odd as it
might seem, I am still happy. I think about the future all the time, when
you’ve both passed away and my sister has a family of her own. And you
better, Michelle! You fall in love, have a slew of kids, and never look
back. That’s what I want, but I also know this means I’ll end up on my
own. I’ll get old, and sick, and die alone, because that’s what happens to
people like me. All I want is someone to love, someone who will love me
back. I don’t understand why that person has to be another man. I can’t
explain that to you, but I’m sure you’ll agree this is an impossible
dream. So I’m leaving now, while I still have a wonderful family that
loves me and will forgive me for anything, even for being selfish. Or for
being gay. I’m just sorry I couldn’t tell you in person.
Jace wiped his nose on his jacket sleeve, folded up the note, and
placed it inside the plastic baggie. He probably should have double-
bagged it, since the letter would have to survive being submerged in
water, but at least the baggie had a trusty Ziploc seal. Yellow and blue
make green! After some deliberation, Jace decided the note was safest in
the front pocket of his jeans, shoved it in there, and turned his attention
to the Blackwater River.
As a kid, Jace had imagined he could hop into the river, be swept out
of this podunk Missouri town and up to Canada where his grandparents
lived. Later, when a drunken hobo had fallen off this very bridge, Jace
had learned that the river could take a person to a completely different
destination. Whether that was Heaven or Hell he wasn’t certain, but he
was determined to find out. Placing his hand on the wrought-iron rail,
which felt cold in the late October air, Jace considered the waters below.
How would this kill him, exactly? Didn’t Olympic divers jump from
these same heights? Maybe he should have chugged his father’s whisky,
got himself nice and drunk like the bum who had died here years ago.
Jace’s eyes scanned the river, the waters swollen by a week’s worth
of storms, and wondered if the hobo’s body was still there, lurking
beneath the surface. The bobbing light of a night fisher in the distance
caught his eye. Jace pictured the fishing hook snagging waterlogged
flesh. He was sure about doing this, wasn’t he? Jace reached for the letter
again before stopping himself. He’d read it enough times to have it
memorized. And to know that what he’d written was right. There was no
future for a person like him. He knew everyone in this town, more or
less, and not once had he heard of an old gay couple enjoying retirement
together or elderly lesbians celebrating their fiftieth anniversary. Such
things simply didn’t happen. Not on TV. Not in real life. So Jace had
spent quite a long time trying to figure out what did happen to gay
people, turning to history for answers.
Oscar Wilde’s biography had given him hope. For all its
imperfections, the relationship Oscar had with Bosie did resemble love,
but Jace concluded those feelings were one-sided at best. Oscar Wilde
had died a broken man, far from home, and with no family or a lover at
his bedside. Walt Whitman passed away under the care of his
housekeeper, not a loving husband. Emperor Hadrian’s lover Antinous
had drowned in the Nile, either by accident or on purpose. Jace had
thought long and hard about that one, wondering if even being loved was
enough to avoid this fate. By the end of his days, Hadrian had tried to
take his own life many times. Was he chasing after Antinous?
Each gay biography Jace had read told him he wasn’t alone—the
homosexuality often only alluded to, hidden between the lines. Jace had
initially reveled in each discovery. Eventually, all he did was despair.
History proved he wasn’t the only gay person, but it also assured him
that he would die alone.
As he was about to do now. If only someone were with him, some
shy and handsome guy from his school, gripping his hand tightly. Their
forbidden love would drive them to take this plunge together to the one
place where society couldn’t tear them apart. But as Jace glanced beyond
the lonely bridge, all he saw was a dusty gravel road and his car parked
to one side of it, windshield partially obscured by fallen leaves. If he
stood out here deliberating any longer, he would freeze to death.
Jace laughed, remembering this was his goal. It was time to go.
Seventeen years of a happy life was much better than decades and
decades spent searching for the impossible, yearning for what he
couldn’t have, growing older, sadder, and more bitter with every passing
year. Like Antinous, Jace would let the waters take him while he was
still young. He believed Antinous did so because love was too painful.
What Antinous didn’t know was that living without love could hurt even
more. Clenching his jaw, Jace placed two flat palms on the rail and
swung his legs over.
Gravity did the rest.
Air whipped around his clothing as Jace plunged toward the water
much too quickly for his life to flash before his eyes. There wouldn’t
have been much worthy of seeing anyway: hanging out in the backyard
with his sister on long summer nights, laughing and acting up so much
that it irritated their parents. Or his father trying to get him interested in
cars, Jace covertly yawning when his father ducked beneath the hood to
examine the engine. Or his mother and her endless cats that would
appear from out of nowhere when she clicked her tongue, eager for food,
games, or affection. No, Jace’s life hadn’t been all that interesting, but in
its own boring way, it had been wonderful.
Fuck.
Regret hit Jace the same time the water did. His body had tumbled
sideways in the air, giving him newfound respect for those Olympic
divers. The river felt solid when Jace smacked into it, forcing the air
from his lungs in one painful wheeze. When he tried to breathe again,
water poured in, not air. Jace panicked, kicking desperately and waving
his arms, hoping to move toward the surface but no longer knowing
which way was up. The ache in his lungs intensified into agony. He had
thought drowning would be painless and peaceful, the chilled river water
luring him into a gentle sleep. Instead his insides felt searing hot.
Jace’s head broke the surface. Desperate to gulp air into his lungs, he
opened his mouth, heaving out water in a never-ending supply. Finally
he coughed. Before he could take a proper breath, his head bobbed under
again. Feeling weakened from the cold and lack of air, he fought to keep
his head above water. When he did manage to take in air, it was only in
tiny gasps. Ears buzzing and limbs stiffening from cold, he turned his
face upward to an overcast sky. It would have been nice to see the stars
again, one last time.
The buzzing in Jace’s ears grew painfully loud, snarling before
ceasing entirely. Then something clamped onto his shoulder. A hand?
Maybe. He couldn’t feel much of anything now, that numbness he had
dreamt of finally taking over. Only when he was spun around did he
understand. The side of a boat filled his vision; over the edge of it a
heavily wrinkled face twisted up with effort.
“Raise your arms. Come on now! I can’t do this alone!”
“Help!” Jace squeaked, his lungs tighter than ever. “Help me!”
“Give me your goddamned hand!”
Jace’s brain kicked in. Even though it made him bob dangerously, he
stopped paddling with one of his arms just long enough to thrust it in the
air. The old man grabbed his wrist, then his forearm as he pulled.
Grunting with effort, he managed to get Jace’s arm over the boat so he
was hanging on at the elbow.
“Now the other one.”
The process was repeated, and soon Jace was draped over the boat’s
edge. A new surge of adrenaline shot through him as he scrambled in an
attempt to climb aboard, making the little fishing vessel rock.
“Easy!” the old man shouted. “You’ll tip the whole damn boat! Stop
your squirming and just breathe.”
Jace tried to calm down despite feeling like he was freezing to death.
He locked wide eyes with the old man, trying to communicate his
desperation. But he couldn’t speak. The old man was right. He needed to
breathe.
“Okay. Good. Okay.” The old man rubbed the white scruff on his
chin, looking between Jace and the deck. “I’m too old to haul you out.
When you’re ready, I want you to work your way to the back of the boat.
Slowly.”
Jace started right away. He feared that if he didn’t, his arms would
give out and he’d slip back into the river. Bit by bit, he inched his way to
the rear of the boat. The entire time, the old man moved with him,
walking on his knees and keeping a hand on Jace’s jacket collar.
“That’s it. You’ll have an easier time getting in from back here.
Think you can step onto the motor?”
The idea sounded dangerous, but silence meant the engine wasn’t
running. Jace kicked his leg up a few times until he felt it hit the motor.
Then, pulling himself up with his last ounce of strength, he managed to
get his foot on top. The water pulled at his clothes as he strained, like the
river didn’t want to give up the sacrifice it had been offered. Finally, just
when he thought he’d never be free, Jace toppled over the edge of the
boat and—embarrassingly—fell onto the old man.
There was some grumbled swearing until Jace rolled to the side, but
he was too exhausted to apologize. Instead he curled up on his side—
gasping, coughing, and shaking. Then the motor kicked into life, buzzing
them down the river. The breeze made Jace wince. Just when he thought
he couldn’t get any colder!
Their trip was mercifully short. He felt the boat’s prow slide onto
earth and forced himself to sit up, eager to get back on land. The old man
was sitting just behind him, hand resting on the motor’s tiller. “Think
you can climb out on your own?”
Jace nodded.
“Go ahead then. That’s my place just over there. We’ll get you inside
and warmed up.”
Jace glanced at the shore, seeing a recreational vehicle parked not far
away. Once he stumbled onto land, he made straight for the RV, not
looking back until he was at the door. He felt desperate to get inside.
“Move over,” the old man said so he could unlock the door, cursing a
bit under his breath.
Jace took a good look at him for the first time. He wasn’t a tall man,
probably five foot eight at best. Of course a lot of people looked short to
Jace ever since he had shot up to six foot two. The old man had a
prominent beer belly and a head of thinning white hair. Despite having
just saved his life, he didn’t look particularly friendly. Right now he was
jerking his thumb, signaling Jace to get inside.
The interior had the old-man smell that filled his grandpa’s
workshop, spiced with a touch of fish from the small kitchen corner. In
the light of a single lamp, Jace couldn’t see much that wasn’t practical. A
table for dining was covered in newspapers, a half-finished crossword
puzzle on top. A small couch curved around this table. Farther back was
a bed, the two doors near it probably opening into closets or a toilet.
“What’s your name?” the old man asked, shutting the door behind
him.
Jace turned toward him but didn’t answer. Now that he no longer
feared for his life, he was starting to wonder how much trouble he was
in.
“Mine’s Bernard,” the old man said, thrusting out a hand. “Most
people call me Bernie, which I hate.”
Jace took his hand and shook it, but still didn’t say a word. After a
few quick pumps, Bernard pulled away. “Jesus, boy! You’re freezing!
Strip off your clothes. You won’t get any warmer wearing those. You
can heat up in the shower.”
A hot shower? Jace didn’t need encouraging. He took off his jacket
and held it awkwardly, water dripping on the floor. Now that he noticed,
he was getting water all over the place.
“Sorry,” he said, teeth chattering.
“It’s fine.” Bernard took Jace’s jacket and laid it across the table, the
newspapers turning dark as they drank in the water. “Just throw it all
here. The shower’s right behind you. Towels are in there too.”
With that, Bernard turned around and took a great interest in the
ceiling. Jace kept shooting glances in his direction as he struggled to get
off his shoes, then his jeans, but Bernard might as well have been a
statue. When Jace was down to his underwear, he opened the door
behind him and stepped inside.
The little room was barely bigger than a porta-potty, complete with
toilet. At first he thought he chose the wrong door, but then he noticed
the showerhead on the wall and the drain in the floor. There was also a
sink and mirror to one side. Jace caught sight of himself. His blondish-
