Any Given Lifetime

by Leta Blake

  She studied Neil’s face as he stared with a slightly open mouth at the flat-screen mounted on the wall. “He looks sad,” Neil said, and there was worry making his already gruff little voice sound even gruffer. “I don’t want him to be sad.”

  Alice knew who was on the screen without looking. Joshua Stouder, a man close to her age, from Scottsville, Kentucky. Neil had only been five or so the first time they saw Joshua Stouder on the national news, discussing some kind of medical research his foundation was funding. He claimed it had the potential to change traumatic-injury treatments forever. It involved the use of tiny robots called nanites. Alice didn’t really understand the details, or care to for that matter, but little Neil had stood up, abandoning his blocks. He’d pointed at the screen on the wall and said, “That’s Joshua,” in a voice containing more awe than she’d ever heard him display. He’d always been a child who seemed to find everyday miracles not only to be old hat, but really kind of annoying.

  At the time, she’d been startled and even found it amusing. Neil had talked of someone named Joshua for a long time. In fact, one of the first things he’d ever informed her of, when he was only about thirteen months old, was, “I want Joshua.” She’d asked him who Joshua was, and he’d stared at her like she was stupid and shrugged his tiny shoulders in a gesture that was spookily old on a baby.

  As he’d continued to tell her about Joshua, usually in off-hand comments, and sometimes with a mournful sigh and an announcement that he missed Joshua, she’d become worried that this imaginary friend of his might not be so imaginary. But she hadn’t been able to fathom where Neil might be seeing a man of that description. She was home with him during the day and kept a close eye on him when they went out. Still, she’d had a neighbor come over and add locks to Neil’s bedroom windows, just in case. Her paranoia had grown that out of control. What if someone was messing with her son? She’d worried about that endlessly, even though Neil had just glared at her in annoyance when she asked him if Joshua ever visited him when she wasn’t in the room, or came in through his windows at night.

  But when she’d looked toward the screen that day when Neil was five, she’d been shocked to see a man named Joshua Stouder who did look remarkably like the person Neil had told her about. A quick internet search brought up even more evidence that was too accurate to be a simple coincidence. Not to mention, the scariest thing of all: Joshua Stouder had been involved with a nanite researcher at Vanderbilt University, a man named Neil Russell. A man who, photographs revealed, more than a little resembled her own little Neil. It was spooky, and she’d barely slept that night, she was so freaked out.

  The next day, she’d asked her friend Marie, a fellow military wife, “Do you believe in reincarnation?”

  Marie had laughed and said, “Yeah, and tarot cards, and astrology. Oh, and also I can tell the future by the marks on my toilet paper after I wipe my butt.”

  Alice had never mentioned reincarnation to anyone after that. Still, the thought lingered. Especially because it unnerved Alice how Neil talked about Joshua as though he knew him. And some of the other things he said—things about medicine, Boston, and nanites—couldn’t be explained, but it was all information that research told her Dr. Neil Russell would have known a lot about.

  Now, Alice watched Joshua on the screen again. This was the fourth time in as many days he’d been shown on the news. He wasn’t talking, though, just sitting in a courtroom looking alternately sad and angry. His arms were crossed over his chest, and his gaze rarely left the back of the defendant’s head. One Beau Allen of Bowling Green, Kentucky, who was on trial for sabotaging a Stouder Lumber truck, causing a highway accident that had killed one woman and left her husband paralyzed.

  The reporters stated that Mr. Joshua Stouder was in attendance in hopes of convincing the judge to refuse to accept the defendant’s plea bargain. A dark-eyed reporter with glasses said, “Mr. Joshua Stouder is on record saying that Mr. Allen is a dangerous, unstable man who was let go from Stouder Lumber a month before the truck was sabotaged, allowing the logs to roll free onto the road. He does not believe that Mr. Allen is reformed and, should he be released, would continue to be a risk to society.”

  Alice hoped that Joshua’s testimony would take place in the judge’s quarters, or else Neil would insist that they save it to the computer so that he could watch it over and over. She had practically memorized the interview Joshua had given to a show called Louisville Now about the Neil Russell Foundation and its research into nanites. It was a simple little piece, but Neil had watched it at least a hundred times, and Alice had nearly lost her mind.

  Neil had discovered the interview through some search protocols he’d installed on the computer to notify him when Joshua Stouder appeared in print, on film, or anywhere online. Jim would have killed her for letting Neil use the computer at all, but she couldn’t stop Neil from being who he was, and so she just tried to minimize the damage. Neil was so dang smart, though, that ‘the damage’ was surprisingly nonexistent.

  Alice tried to comply with most of Jim’s wishes with regard to Neil. She felt like she owed him that much for stepping in after Marshall’s death, providing a home and income for her, and being a father for Marshall’s son. And Jim clearly felt that she did owe him given how often he’d brought all that up in their arguments over the last six years.

  He’d accused her of pretty awful things and a lot of ulterior motives whenever he’d been drinking. But the truth was she’d married him in desperation, and he’d married her out of some misplaced desire to be the hero. He hadn’t been able to save Marshall from the IED, but he’d saved Marshall’s girlfriend and baby from poverty. His motivations had been good. His execution less so. And the reality was they weren’t a good fit as a family.

  She’d told Jim that once when Neil had been three years old, and it hadn’t been a pretty scene. She was still humiliated to think that the neighbors had probably overheard the way he yelled at her, the things he’d said.

  Especially about Neil.

  Neil had been a strange child from the beginning. He was never chubby or darling, but always kind of scrawny and somehow indignant about everything, as though he was furious that he’d even been born into the world. Sometimes Alice felt guilty about that, even though she didn’t know why. It wasn’t like she’d give him up for anything, but it’d always seemed so clear to her that he had somewhere else he’d rather be. Though, given that he was a kid, Alice had no idea where that was.

  Then he’d been…well, precocious wasn’t even the word for it. He’d spoken his first sentence at barely one year, and he never went back after that, sounding like a strange, abrasive little professor trapped inside the body of a tiny child. It unnerved most people and infuriated Jim. “Tell that kid to shut the hell up!” he’d told her one night. “I don’t need a fucking brat lecturing me.”

  She hadn’t known what to do. There was no way she could ever ask Neil to be anything other than what he was, but Jim had hated being humiliated by a child. And of course, that was the way he saw it, which was just ridiculous, but there it was. She was relieved when Jim was deployed again and dreaded each of his returns.

  She still felt the cold hand of panic grip her whenever she remembered Jim’s last two-week visit home. He’d punched a hole in the wall and grabbed her arm a lot harder than she wanted to admit, all because six-year-old Neil had taken apart the new touchscreen mobile device that Jim’s mother had bought them for Christmas. Neil had managed to pry it open and was investigating the circuits when Jim walked in and found him.

  “Do you have any idea how much this cost?” he’d yelled.

  Neil had stared up at him, his tiny face unwavering. “I can fix it.” He’d sounded so certain, calm, yet totally irritated with Jim.

  “Alice!” Jim had screamed. “Look at what your son’s done!”

  Alice had tried to placate him, saying, “Just give it to him, Jim. He can put it back together.”

  “Put it back toge
ther? He’s ruined it.”

  Then Jim had grabbed Alice’s arm and jerked her. She’d seen Neil stand up out of the corner of her eye, and she’d shaken her head at him. He’d stared at her with unblinking, intense eyes and looked like he might step forward at any moment. That was the last thing she wanted.

  “Fuck!” Jim had yelled, and punched the wall, leaving a hole behind. He’d stomped out of the house, taking the touchscreen mobile with him.

  “Idiot,” Neil had assessed in his little gruff voice. “I was going to fix it.”

  Alice had burst into tears, which seemed to freak Neil out. He’d walked over to her, his bony little legs sticking out of his shorts and his hand outstretched. She’d wiped at her face and said, “Don’t, Neil. Just don’t.”

  He’d seemed to understand and dropped his hand, looking down at his socked feet and shaking his head, like he was still sure that Jim was an idiot, and Alice had to agree.

  That was six months ago, and unless something changed, Alice was worried how they would manage when Jim returned for good. She’d spent more than one long night wondering if she might be able to find a way to make it on her own. Single motherhood would be hard, no doubt about that, especially with a child like Neil—he didn’t look like a six-year-old, or talk like a six-year-old, or act like a six-year-old—but it had to be better than fearing for their safety.

  After Marshall died…well, Jim had said everything she wanted to hear. He’d been full of promises of happiness and a home for her and the baby. Alice still thought Jim had meant every word of it, too. But then Neil had been born, and he wasn’t what Jim had expected in a son. Unfortunately, Jim wasn’t the kind of man who could deal with that.

  Alice knew that someday soon, they’d have to go.

  The news show left the Stouder Lumber case behind and moved on to discuss some brands of infant formula that had been recalled due to bacteria.

  Neil turned to her, his blue eyes focused on her face. His expression was intense, focused, the way it always was whenever he started thinking about Joshua. Suddenly, he smiled. “Joshua’s mother had brown hair, too,” Neil said, leaning against Alice’s shoulder to touch her hair with his small fingers. “I never met her. But I know she was different from you. She preached to him about gay being a sin. I’m glad you’re not like that.”

  Alice smiled sadly and kissed his forehead. “Being gay is beautiful. All love is beautiful,” she assured him.

  Neil nodded, his lips in a thin line. “Love sucks, actually.” Then he kissed her cheek and said, “But you’re okay. I like you.”

  Well, if that wasn’t high praise from her son, then she didn’t know what was. And even though she knew it wasn’t the kisses and endless ‘I love yous’ she’d imagined throughout her pregnancy, Neil’s approval was good enough for her.

  A week later Marie showed up at their house with the twins in tow, crying her eyes out. Neil didn’t like Marcus or Meredith, even though they were the same age, because they wanted to throw balls or pretend to be things and people they were not, which as Neil had declared to Alice, were stupid games and, more importantly, a waste of time. The only reason he ever agreed to go to their house at all was to play with their dog, Rocco, a stinky old hound whom Neil adored. It was unfortunate that Alice was allergic to dogs and cats because she thought Neil could have benefited from having one around, since he found human friends so hard to come by.

  Alice tried to shoo Neil away from the kitchen table where he was working on a small robot made from a few old scavenged cell phones and a remote control or two, as well as some Legos she’d scored from Goodwill for only a dollar. She told him to go play with Marie’s kids, but he peered grimly at Marcus and Meredith, and shot Alice a look, before turning resolutely back to his work.

  Alice sighed, brushed her hair out of her eyes, and sent Marcus and Meredith in to watch cartoons in the other room while she made a pot of coffee for Marie, who was crying too hard to speak.

  “Is it Danny?” Alice asked softly. She knew all too well how it felt to get bad news.

  Marie shook her head, blew her nose loudly into a paper towel, and said, “No. My mom.”

  Neil sighed heavily, as though Marie was annoying him by sitting at his table, and Alice lightly slapped the back of his head in warning as she passed by to deliver Marie her coffee.

  “It’s that mass in her chest,” Marie warbled.

  “Cancer?” Alice asked.

  Marie snuffled. “No, it’s a tumor, really big, they say. But probably not cancer. Thank God. But still—”

  Neil looked up then, interest in his eyes. “Where’s it located?”

  Marie glanced his way, surprised to be addressed by Neil. Alice couldn’t blame her. Neil usually ignored Marie at all costs.

  “I—I—don’t know,” she said and started to cry again.

  Neil clucked his tongue. “Location, location, location. Important in real estate and tumors.” Then he turned back to his robot while Marie stared at him aghast and confused. After a moment, Neil added, “Not cancer, huh? If you’re gonna have a big mass in your chest, it’s always best if it’s not cancer. One day, nanites will go in and destroy cancers before they can grow.” He paused, frowned, and then said as if it somehow cost him, “I’m sorry that day didn’t come sooner.”

  That was the closest to empathy Alice had ever heard Neil give to anyone other than her or Joshua. The fact that her son had an opinion about the location of tumors qualified as creepier-than-average behavior, and she found that, as usual, she had no idea what to say. Marie wiped her nose and stared at him. Neither of them asked what they were really thinking: “Where did you even come from?”

  She wasn’t sure either of them truly wanted to know.

  September 2018—Scottsville, Kentucky

  Joshua pulled off the road on his way out of Scottsville Square to investigate a new bike shop that had opened alongside the highway. Joshua wouldn’t call himself much of a cyclist, but he’d been considering purchasing a new one to get to and from the lumber offices on days when it wasn’t too muggy or too cold. It seemed like the progressive, green thing to do, and it wasn’t like he couldn’t use the exercise. Besides, he hadn’t known that a new shop was opening, and he was curious about who was behind it.

  The store was small, but the front room was very neat, with rows of shiny bicycles of all sizes and colors lined up, ready to be tried out. Joshua stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked around, looking at the merchandise, trying to decide if he preferred the racing models to the touring bikes with little baskets on the front. Gay, maybe. But so was he.

  “Can I help you?”

  Joshua blinked. “Lee? What are you doing here?”

  Lee wiped his hands on a dirty cloth and grinned. “I own the place.” He motioned around. “Like what you see?”

  Joshua looked him up and down. Lee wore a pair of jeans and a tight, long-sleeved cotton shirt, straining over his biceps. Even with the scars twisting up the side of his neck, Joshua had to admit to himself, yet again, Lee was handsome.

  Joshua swallowed. “Yeah, I…uh….” He scratched behind his left ear a little nervously and looked away, turning his focus on the yellow bike with the white basket. He pretended to examine it. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  Joshua hadn’t counted on ever seeing Lee again after that day in Earl G. Dumplin’s diner. He’d thought about him a few times, though. He’d considered emailing even but had never been able to come up with a pretense on which to ‘check in.’ It didn’t seem like it was appropriate to contact the skin recipient of his dead lover to say, “Hey, you’re really good looking and seem nice, smart, and like a genuinely decent person. Want to hang out?”

  After six years, Joshua wasn’t in mourning anymore, and he was not dead—definitely not dead—and he did have a libido. A thriving one that he was tired of trying to ignore. Scottsville wasn’t a great location for picking up other gay men, and he’d never been the type of guy to find the idea o
f Grindr appealing. That still hadn’t changed. Nor was he going to drive down to Nashville or over to Bowling Green for some random hookup. So the fact that Lee played a role in the fantasies that filled his mind in the showers some mornings ever since they’d met said a lot about how much he’d liked the man. But who knew if Lee was even gay?

  Lee put his hands on the handlebars of a small kiddie bike, leaning forward in a way that showed off how nicely his shoulders connected to his chest and neck. Joshua didn’t know what it was about the posture, but it made his stomach curl with lust, and he felt his cheeks heating up.

  “When I was here last summer to meet you, I kinda liked the place. Small town. Simple living.” He looked directly at Joshua with a bit of meaning in his eyes and a smile that was decidedly suggestive somehow. Joshua’s stomach fluttered. “Nice people,” Lee went on. “I’ve been looking to start my life over somewhere, and this seemed like the perfect spot.”

  Perfect. Scottsville was far from perfect, but warmth bloomed in him over Lee’s appreciation of the town’s potential.

  A few minutes later, Joshua looked at a green-and-blue touring bike with a brown basket—still gay like him, but less aggressively so—and listened to Lee talk about the care and upkeep of such a bike. Eventually, heart in his throat, he interrupted the shop-talk to ask, “You said you wanted to start your life over… Why’s that?”

  Lee went quiet, and then he slipped his hand into his dark hair and shook it out, like he was freeing some part of himself.

  “That was invasive,” Joshua said. “I’m sorry.”

  Lee shrugged, swung a leg over the bike Joshua was considering, and sat down. “I don’t mind. You shared a lot with me when I met you last time. I consider us friends, and friends are free to ask questions.” He smiled, and the tilt of his lips made Joshua’s heart ache. “Too many memories.”

  Joshua swallowed hard. “I know what that’s like.” It was why he’d never gone back to Nashville, wasn’t it?

  Lee smiled again, his full lips stretching to reveal his white, straight teeth. “You know how it is. I knew you’d get it.”