them to very whistley versions of a few Christmas carols.
They stayed until the very last minute of visiting hours, and as
evening approached, Jace could feel Victor getting desperate for the
breakthrough he was dreaming of. Jace hoped for it too—anything small,
even just Mrs. Hemingway getting Victor’s name right. In the end, their
Christmas miracle didn’t happen. After dinner, they left his mother
smiling at the door to her room.
“You’re such wonderful people,” she said. “Truly wonderful!”
Victor hesitated. Jace imagined he was probably hoping for a hug.
Victor’s mother shook his hand and patted them both on the shoulder
when she said goodbye. That would have to do.
“I’m sorry,” Jace said when they were back out in the crisp night air.
“Nah,” Victor said with a hollow smile. “You showed me she can
still be happy. That’s all that matters. I want her to feel good.”
Jace knew much more than that mattered, but he felt relieved when
Victor’s fingers intertwined with his own before pulling him close.
“And she’s right,” Victor said. “You are truly wonderful.”
“So are you,” Jace said, giving Victor the hug his mother no longer
could. “Merry Christmas.”
* * * * *
Staying wasn’t an option. As the holidays wound down, Victor made
sure to drive this point home, but he didn’t need to push much. Jace had
expected this, understood how things would be. But he promised to
return a couple of weeks later.
Life back in Texas returned to normal: answering phones, typing
letters, and running errands by day. His free time was spent clipping
coupons and finding free things to do, like exploring the city by foot or
hitting the library for something new to read. He wanted every spare
penny going toward his next trip to Missouri.
On the Friday he planned to start the drive north, he was leaving
work to run an errand when his car’s engine wouldn’t start. There was no
indication as to why. No grinding or chugging. Jace turned the key and
nothing happened. Suspecting his battery was dead, he got a jump-start
from a coworker, but even that didn’t help. After staring at the engine
and not knowing what to do, he called a tow truck. Hours later at the
shop, he was given the bad news. He didn’t understand half of it, but he
took the list of needed repairs to a payphone and called his dad.
“Do you think I should even bother?” he asked. “Wouldn’t it make
more sense to get a new car?”
“It’s twelve years old,” his father said, “and they sure as hell don’t
build them like they used to. My Thunderbird went through—”
“Dad,” Jace said impatiently.
“No, you’re right. At this point, you either need to plan on fixing
things as they break down, or you need to finance a new car. Do you
think you can handle a car payment every month?”
Jace could barely handle groceries. “No.”
“I see. Have them make the repairs for now and start saving. Maybe
your mother and I can help a little bit when you have enough for a down
payment.”
Not the news Jace wanted to hear. He didn’t expect his parents to
buy him a new car, but he had hoped his dad knew some clever way out
of the situation he hadn’t considered. The worst, of course, was the
money he’d saved for his trip being eaten up by the repairs. Those would
take a few days, so Jace was trapped no matter what.
Once back at his apartment, he tried calling Victor, not surprised that
the number had been disconnected. Then he called Greg, who said he
hadn’t seen Victor lately. Jace left a message with him anyway. After
thinking it over, he called Bernie’s in the hopes Bernard was there. He
was in luck.
“Victor was coming in regular at the start of the year,” Bernard said.
“The last few days he’s been missing in action again. I always have to
schedule someone else to be here, because I never know if he’ll show.”
“You don’t have to put up with that,” Jace said, quickly adding, “but
I’m glad you do.”
“Yeah, I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night either. He’ll show up
again. When he does, I’ll give him your message. Sorry to hear about
your car. You need a loan?”
“Jesus, Bernard! You’re too nice! How is it that you’re not broke?”
Bernard’s laugh crackled over the receiver. “I’d be a whole lot richer
if I was mean, wouldn’t I?”
“Yes. And thanks, but I’ll be all right.”
“Okay. When you do make it up here, you stop in and see me.
Maybe I can take a look at your car and avert the next crisis.”
Jace wished he could push the piece of junk up there right now. Or
push it into a lake. After thanking Bernard, he hung up, mentally
tightened his belt, and went to the classifieds to look for a second job.
* * * * *
Three more weeks passed before Jace was able to make the trip. In
the interim, he called Bernard and Greg a few times as a way of checking
up on Victor. Greg still hadn’t seen him. Bernard had, but it was
becoming less and less common. Jace tried to put a positive spin on this.
Maybe Victor was spending too much time with his mother, or had
cooked up some new scheme for his life. Maybe Star was wining and
dining him, still trying to win his heart completely.
When Jace cruised into Warrensburg, he felt relieved that he
wouldn’t have to wonder anymore. Parking in front of Victor’s house
and trotting up to the door, he felt a race of nervousness, excitement, and
need. No doubt about it. He’d fallen for Victor again, heavier and harder
than ever before. When he saw the envelope taped to the front door, his
nervousness edged ahead of his other feelings.
‘Hemingway’ was written across the white paper, so Jace ignored it
and knocked on the door. He continued to stare at the envelope while he
waited for an answer. When it didn’t come, curiosity got the better of
him. The envelope was only folded shut, not glued, allowing him to read
the letter inside. He scanned it once, then read it again more carefully. He
returned the letter to the envelope and sighed.
Rent was long overdue. Jace always assumed Mrs. Hemingway
owned this house. That obviously wasn’t the case. If rent wasn’t paid in a
couple more weeks, Victor would be evicted. Jace knocked again and
then tried the doorknob. It turned under his hand.
Letting himself in, he breathed in stale air tainted with cigarette
smoke. The house was dark, the curtains pulled. He didn’t know Victor
was there until he spoke.
“Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in.”
Jace flinched. When Victor came toward him, he felt oddly
threatened. Even in the dark he could see that Victor’s beard had
returned. Jace moved away to open the curtains and let in the dwindling
light. Then he turned to consider Victor again.
He looked like shit. The assessment was harsh but accurate. The
beard didn’t hide the sunken cheeks or the pale clammy skin, or that the
shine had gone from his long dark hair. “Are you okay?” Jace asked.
“You look… sick.”
“I’m fine,” Victor said, waving a hand.
Jace couldn’t pull his eyes away, the feeling of unease still not
having left him. Luckily, Samson came bounding into the room. Already
he was bigger. Jace reached down to pet him. Even the cat looked
malnourished.
“Hungry?” Jace said to him, but then looked up to Victor, who
shrugged.
“I’ve been fasting,” he said.
“Right, well, time to break that fast.”
Jace moved toward the kitchen, opening curtains and blinds on the
way, or switching on lamps. He found food in the cupboard, only a
partial relief since most were things he had bought last time. From the
backpack he had slung over one shoulder, he took out the presents he had
brought with him—cans of food for Samson and a six-pack of beer for
him and Victor to share.
“Oh, nice.” Victor said, coming up next to him at the counter. He
didn’t smell very good. When’s the last time he’d taken a shower?
“Feed the cat first,” Jace snapped when Victor reached for a beer.
Then he busied himself with boiling water, staring at the macaroni
and cheese instructions when he didn’t have anything else to do. He
felt… angry? Disappointed? Disgusted? He found he couldn’t settle on
just one thing. When Jace had found Victor like this last time, it had felt
good bringing him back from the edge. Not that he’d been happy to see
Victor down in the dumps, but at least it allowed Jace a way to show his
affection by helping. By the time he’d left, Victor had been smiling
again. Now, in barely more than a month, Victor had reverted to that
same miserable condition. Maybe worse.
Still, what could he do? Sighing, Jace turned around to face the
kitchen. Samson was licking a plate clean. Victor leaned against the
refrigerator, watching him.
“How’s your mother doing?” Jace asked.
Victor considered the question. “I’m sure she’s fine.”
“You haven’t been going to see her?”
Victor went to the beer, taking one but then raising his eyebrows, as
if seeking permission. Jace nodded.
Victor cracked open the can and took a swig. “There’s no point in
going to see her if she doesn’t know who I am.”
Anger rose in Jace’s chest again, so he turned away to finish making
the meal. When the food was done, he served most of it on one plate.
Jace had left his appetite at the door.
“I’m not hungry,” Victor said.
“Eat,” Jace insisted.
They sat on opposite ends of the table, like monarchs trapped in a
cold marriage. While Victor ate, Jace studied him. He felt like shouting,
but kept reminding himself that it wouldn’t make a difference. Not with
Victor. But he couldn’t just sit there and pretend like nothing was wrong.
“What are you doing?” he asked. “Bernard said you haven’t been
showing up at work much. Did you see the letter taped to your door?”
“Another one?” Victor asked with disinterest.
“You’ve gotten this notice before?”
Victor gave a single nod. “This makes three.”
“That’s serious!” Jace said. He wasn’t sure, but he thought there was
some law about three notices. Regardless, it was clear from the most
recent letter that they wanted money soon or else. “I can’t afford to pay
this.”
Victor snorted. “I didn’t ask you to. Do you think I want to live
here?”
“No,” Jace said with a huff. “No doubt you’d like to be out in the
woods somewhere, but it’s still winter. You need somewhere to stay, at
least until then.”
“I’ll be fine,” Victor said with his typical self-assurance.
“You don’t look fine,” Jace mumbled.
Samson hopped up on the table, sniffing Victor’s plate before
padding to Jace. Petting him, Jace felt the pronounced ribs on his side.
From the cats his mother had over the years, he knew this wasn’t normal.
“Look,” Jace said, his temper rising, “it’s one thing if you don’t want
to take care of yourself, but at least feed the goddamn cat!”
“I’ve been trying to.”
“How? By doing what?”
Instead of replying, Victor crossed his arms over his chest and leaned
back in the chair.
Jace couldn’t do this. Not again. “I have to go see my family,” he
said. “I’ll come back tomorrow. If you love me, please get your shit
together before then.”
Before Victor could respond, Jace was on his feet and heading for
the door. Once he was in his car he felt like screaming. Instead he looked
back at Victor’s house, hoping to see him standing at the door and
showing remorse. But he wasn’t there, nor was his silhouette in any of
the windows.
* * * * *
Jace found his mother cooking in the kitchen. The house was clean,
if a little chaotic, but at least it was full of light and noise and life. He felt
a pang of regret for snapping at Victor, imagining how dark and dingy
this house would become without his parents in it. Then again, he’d still
try to make them proud by living the best life he could.
After giving his mother a desperate hug that made her giggle, he
asked where the rest of his family was.
“Your father is out running an errand. The other two are downstairs.”
Other two? Jace went down to the family room to find Michelle and
Greg watching a movie together. As usual, Greg was talking over the
explosions and car chases. When they saw Jace, they stood up and turned
off the TV.
“What are you doing here?” Jace asked.
“I heard you’d be in town today.” Greg looked bashful as he said
this. Jace didn’t even know he was capable of that.
“So you’re forcing my sister to watch one of your horrible movies?”
He turned to Michelle. “Or are you trying to steal away my best friend?”
Michelle and Greg laughed. A lot. This gave Jace pause, but his
mind kept returning to Victor. Just thinking of him so disheveled and
unhealthy made Jace’s heart ache and his head hurt.
“Listen,” he said. “I don’t think I’m going to be good company
tonight. Why don’t you guys watch your movie? I think I’ll go lie
down.”
“Okay,” Greg said. “Are you sure? We don’t have to watch the
flick.”
“It’s not the movie,” Michelle said, studying him. “Are you okay?”
“Don’t psychoanalyze me,” Jace said. His sister was majoring in
psychology, which would suit her well, but he didn’t want to be part of
her studies. “I’ll be fine. I just need some quiet.”
Jace left them looking puzzled and went to his room. Once there, he
shut the door. Little remained of his previous life. The bed and the rest of
the furniture were still there. The desk was now covered with his father’s
papers. The posters and childish things had been cleared away, but the
room still gave shape to memories. Victor, sleeping next to him in bed.
Or standing at the open window, sneaking a cigarette in the middle of the
night by exhaling through the screen. He had been so amazing then, so
impossible and unguessable. Now…
Jace couldn’t bear to think of it. Past or present, he didn’t want any
part of it. His sister and his best friend were a few floors down, and he
was ignoring them just because his ex-boyfriend was a mess? Forget
that! He wasn’t going to mope around his room, doing an imitation of
Victor. Returning downstairs again, Jace found Greg and Michelle
