The Many and the One

by Donald Wells

  Jason will try to deny it, but thanks to me you have proof.

  Incidentally, I noticed she looks a little something like your new friend Simone. Hmm, fascinating, that could be a whole other story.

  Let me know how it goes when you confront him. I only wish I could be there to see it. Call me if you need consoling, you know I’m good at that.

  Sorry,

  Derek

  The girl in the pictures is dark and petite, and beautiful. In one photo, Jason’s head lies between her breasts while her hands caress his body. In another photo, they sit talking like a pair of old friends—or new lovers.

  This can’t be what it looks like.

  Lindsay places the pictures back in the envelope. She flings the envelope at Boomer the Bear. It opens and the photos seep onto the floor like poison leaking from a bottle.

  She reaches for the phone. “Simone can you come over, please?”

  “What’s wrong Lindsay? You sound strange.”

  When she next speaks, Lindsay holds back tears.

  “I need another set of eyes, and a friend.”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  * * *

  When Simone arrives, Lindsay rushes her upstairs. They sit on the bed and Lindsay reaches under her pillow and brings out the envelope. Simone takes it from her as if it might explode, it already has.

  She reads the note carefully, saying “Sick,” at a couple of the passages; next, she slowly examines the photos one by one. She then hands the envelope back to Lindsay.

  “I don’t think they’re fake, but they’re not what they look like.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She’s touching him, but he’s not touching her.”

  “So?”

  “Lindsay, Jason’s a toucher, when he’s around you he hardly goes a minute without holding your hand or caressing you. If Jason liked her, like that, he’d be touching her.”

  “Unless it’s just sex,” Lindsay says, about to cry.

  “Stop it! You know Jason, would he do this? Would he cheat on you?”

  Lindsay, shocked by Simone’s passion, yells back, “No!”

  “There’s your answer, and about these pictures, consider the source.”

  Lindsay stares at the envelope and in a fit of anger she rips it in half and tosses the pieces into the wastebasket next to her bed.

  “Bravo girl, and if you get any more love notes from your ex, you know what to do.”

  Simone then pantomimes ripping up an envelope and tossing it away.

  Lindsay hugs her friend. “Thank you Simone.”

  There will be no more poison envelopes, one was enough.

  * * *

  Jason and Paul are helping Adam build a cottage next to the cabin. They’re placing in the cardboard tubes that will later be filled with concrete and become the building’s corner supports.

  It’s tiring work and it’s only day one. When it gets dark they’ll move inside, the cabin needs re-staining before the first renters arrive in May.

  Paul is getting paid, while Jason works for free, it’s the penalty for getting caught slipping out at Thanksgiving. Adam also let Jason know that he thought he was too old to be sneaking around like a kid and shocked him by giving him a key to the cabin.

  Jason told Lindsay he would call when he got back home if it wasn’t too late. She told him it couldn’t be too late and to call.

  At 10:37 p.m. Lindsay’s phone rings.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi honey, I hope I didn’t wake you.”

  “Hi, how was work at the cabin?”

  “My dad’s a slave driver, but the harder I work the more he can rest, ya know.”

  Silence

  “Honey? Lindsay are you still there?”

  “I’m still here.”

  “Oh, I thought I lost you.”

  “No, I’m still here.”

  “Did your parents get off to their retreat?”

  “Yes, they left this morning.”

  “A marriage retreat on St. Valentine’s Day, there’s a joke there somewhere.”

  “Un huh,”

  “So what did you do today honey, anything fun?”

  “No.” Unless you think it’s fun for me to look at pictures of you with another girl.

  “Listen, we’re starting a little later tomorrow, dad’s driving Mom and Angie to my Aunt Mary’s and then he’s going to meet Paul and me at the cabin, but I’ll be back by six, all right?”

  “Okay,”

  “Honey are you all right? You sound funny.”

  He didn’t do anything. Stop worrying about those pictures.

  “I’m tired that’s all.”

  “Okay honey, I’ll let you go to sleep, I could use some myself.”

  “Okay Jason.”

  “You’re sure nothing’s wrong?”

  “I’m fine, just tired.”

  “Oh, listen, Paul’s picking me up at nine. I’ll call you before I leave all right?”

  “Okay,”

  “I love you Lindsay.”

  Along with how many other girls? Stop it, it’s not true! “I love you too, Jason.” I really do.

  “Goodnight.” Jason says.

  “Goodnight.”

  Lindsay doesn’t fall asleep for hours, and then dreams of dark-haired girls.

  * * *

  She wakes pondering the pictures. Lindsay takes the taped together photos from her bedside drawer, the ones she’d dug out of the wastebasket, and looks at them yet again.

  He can explain this. I’ve got to see him. Jason said Paul would be picking him up at nine. It’s 6:58. That gives me nearly two hours if I hurry.

  After giving her hair a quick brush, and her teeth the same, she rushes out to see Jason.

  * * *

  Upon awakening, Jason thinks, It can’t be nine o’clock already.

  He’d just fallen asleep again after getting up to say goodbye to his family and taking a swig from a carton of orange juice, now someone’s ringing the doorbell. He hollers, “Coming!” as he throws on his robe.

  Jason opens the front door and hears his heart sing. “Lindsay!” He picks her up, kicking the door shut as he turns with her in his arms. As he sets her down, he kisses her.

  “Oh God, I missed you yesterday honey.”

  “Whoa, that was quite a ride. I missed you too.” Lindsay says.

  “You sounded so odd last night, I almost came over there.”

  “I’m sorry, I was just tired, everything’s normal.” While saying this, she pushes the pictures down deep into her jacket pocket.

  “Did you eat yet? Mom always has something in the fridge.”

  “No, I just woke up and rushed over to see you, I haven’t even bathed yet.”

  “Me neither.” Jason says.

  They look at each other and smile.

  “It would be a shame to waste water with separate showers.”

  Lindsay nods. “I’m a big believer in conservation.”

  “I’ll wash your back if you wash mine?”

  “I’ve always found you to be more interested in my front.”

  “Same here,” Jason says.

  Lindsay laughs, while thinking, This man would never hurt me, ever.

  “Honey?”

  “Yes?” Lindsay answers.

  “Happy St. Valentine’s Day, I love you.”

  “I love you too Jason, with all my heart.”

  * * *

  They drag themselves from the shower, freshly scrubbed and smelling of soap, to lie naked in bed, resting amid the silence of satiety. Lindsay gently floats the fingertips of her left hand in random swirling patterns through the soft mat of Jason’s chest hair. His left arm is around her shoulders while his right arm rests behind his head, their legs lie entwined.

  “Boomer?”

  “Yes my love?”

  “Don’t fall asleep. Paul will be here in twenty minutes.”

  Jason raises his head and looks into her eyes, smiling. “You mean
we’ve got twenty minutes?” And now the smile turns libidinous.

  “Jason! After the two times in the shower?”

  “If you’re going to lie beside me naked, there are going to be consequences.”

  Lindsay looks down along his body. “I can see that.”

  “God I hope Paul’s late.”

  Lindsay kisses him. “Me too,”

  * * *

  Paul is late, and it’s a good thing. Jason is still dressing when they hear the horn blow outside.

  Lindsay lies in his bed, naked, watching him. “Are you sure it’s okay I stay here after you’re gone, with nobody home?”

  “Sure, just don’t steal the good china.”

  More horn blowing,

  Jason grabs his jacket. “I’ve really got to go.”

  “Remember I’m making dinner, so come by when you’re done.”

  “It could be as late as seven o’clock, okay?”

  BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

  “Go, before he leaves you.”

  Jason sprints out the door. “I love you.”

  “I love you too Boomer.” Lindsay yells to him. She then sighs. Such a great morning,

  She had been all ready to thrust the pictures in his face when he opened the door, ready to demand an explanation. But when his face lit up and he spun her around at the sheer joy of seeing her, she knew there was no need.

  Feeling odd at being in his parents’ house alone, she gets dressed. She looks around Jason’s room and sees her own face and form in dozens of sketches and paintings, both hanging and stacked, amongst the easels and paint tubes. Then she notices the bright red case leaning against the leg of a table.

  What’s that?

  Lindsay sees written across its top, Charcoal Pencils and Paper in raised letters. She opens the case and sees the twelve different colored pencils in their slots beside the four charcoal ones. Next, she takes out the pad and flips the cover to look at the first sheet of paper.

  The face and form of Rita Milano look back at her in all her green-eyed beauty. The dark-haired, petite, Rita Milano, drawn by her Jason, her Boomer, Lindsay feels a darkness rise up inside her and a despair that collapses her to the floor, weeping.

  She leaves Jason’s home some time later, clutching the drawing that tipped the scales in favor of fear, and she is still crying.

  She finds herself opening her front door with no memory of having driven home and drops onto the sofa where she looks at the face of the woman she believes destroyed her happiness.

  Why her?

  Why anyone?

  What didn’t I do?

  How was I so wrong about him, so horribly wrong?

  She feels a bulge against her side and reaches down to push the annoyance away, then, she realizes it’s the pictures.

  She compares them to the drawing.

  I can’t tell what color her eyes are in the pictures, but it must be the same girl, unless he’s got two of the little sluts running around. God how I hate him! But her heart, her stupid traitorous heart screams from within, NO! YOU LOVE HIM!

  Lindsay rises on legs weak from emotional drainage.

  Thirsty, why am I so thirsty? Is it the tears? How many tears to cry until you die of dehydration? I may find out.

  She staggers to the kitchen for water against tears and spies a better solution, the magnum of champagne for tonight’s dinner, tonight’s St. Valentine’s Day dinner.

  With the champagne in hand, she returns to the living room and sits on the sofa, with the drawing and the pictures scattered on the coffee table.

  She opens the bottle and gulps her first swallows. It is 10:14 a.m. and she has not eaten since the previous day.

  She just keeps looking at the drawing, the pictures.

  At 1:22 p.m. the doorbell rings.

  As Lindsay stands, she knocks over the champagne bottle; it spills the remainder of its contents across the coffee table and onto the drawing pad.

  “Damn it!”

  While attempting to mop up the mess with a wad of tissues, she smears the charcoal drawing virtually beyond recognition.

  The doorbell chimes again.

  Lindsay weaves her way to the door in a strangely spinning room. She reaches for the doorknob and after missing it, slides to the floor, rising on numb legs, she tries again.

  The door opens, revealing Derek’s smiling face.

  “Lindsay, I thought this might be a good time to come by.”

  Lindsay’s legs betray her and she falls on Derek heavily, her body pressing against him.

  Derek holds her in his arms.

  This seems to be a very good time.

  7

  Derek enters and locks the door. He guides Lindsay over to the sofa where she falls back upon it in a limp heap.

  “Hello, is anyone else at home?” No one answers. “Lindsay we seem to be alone.”

  Lindsay mutters. “What?”

  Derek smiles down at her. He then notices the empty champagne bottle and the pictures scattered on the coffee table.

  “I see you’ve received my package.”

  “So dizzy…” Lindsay mumbles. Derek sits next to her; she turns and looks at him, blinking. “What do you want?”

  “I want you.”

  “You want me? You mean you want to have sex. Jason said he loved me, but all he really wanted was sex.”

  “He cheated on you Lindsay. You’ve got to pay him back.”

  “Pay him back, how?”

  Derek kisses her. Surprised and inebriated, Lindsay does nothing. He kisses her for long moments, as his hands caress her. Next, he stands and points to the pictures on the coffee table.

  “He could be with her right now, he doesn’t love you.”

  Lindsay’s eyes narrow to slits as she looks at the photos.

  Derek starts toward the stairs, pulling Lindsay along by the hand. She follows, but at the foot of the steps she stops walking and shakes her head.

  “No, I can’t sleep with you. I love Jason.”

  “Jason’s fucking that girl, forget him, and come back to me.”

  “No, I love him. Jason’s only… experimenting.”

  Lindsay yanks her hand from Derek and wobbles back toward the sofa.

  Derek follows after her. “You would take him back after he cheated on you?”

  Lindsay begins to cry. “I love him. I can’t live without him. Oh, the room’s spinning, I gotta sit down.”

  Lindsay drops back onto the sofa and closes her teary eyes.

  Derek sits in a chair and reaches into his jacket. He brings out a small, round, glass bottle. After spinning off the cap, he distributes cocaine onto the back of his left hand.

  When he sniffs in the powder in a loud snort, Lindsay opens her eyes and looks at him.

  “Derek no drugs, I always hated your drugs.”

  “A little coke never hurt anybody.” Derek says. “You should take a hit; it’ll balance out the alcohol. Wait, I’ve got something better.” Derek brings out a plastic prescription bottle. “Pinkies, I took one of these yesterday and I’m still feeling it.”

  Lindsay looks down at the photos on the coffee table. “Are there more pictures?”

  “No, and it’s a damn shame too. The good stuff happened before I got my camera ready.”

  “Good stuff?”

  “They were kissing when I first saw them, and laughing about something—or someone.”

  Lindsay reaches for the champagne bottle and finds it empty. “Damn.” She then lies back on the sofa and closes her eyes.

  Derek stares at her while tightly grasping the bottle of pills; next, he goes into the kitchen and grabs a beer from the refrigerator.

  After extracting two of the pink pills, he mashes them between a pair of spoons and guides the crushed pharmaceutical into the beer bottle. He then returns to Lindsay, and after waking her, hands her the bottle.

  “Here, drink up.”

  She says, “Thanks, so thirsty,” and begins drinking.

  Derek begin
s pacing, as the cocaine rushes through his system.

  “What did Jason say about the pictures? I bet he denied it all.”

  “I haven’t shown them to him yet.”

  “He’ll try and lie his way out of it, he’ll probably blame me, you’ll see.”

  “He can’t blame you for the—” Lindsay looks at the art pad; the drawing of Rita is a smeared mess.

  “Lindsay, I’ve got a big future ahead of me. I’m going to be President someday.”

  “That’s nice Der—burp—Derek.”

  “I, I need you Lindsay, come back to me and I’ll buy you things, anything you want.”

  Lindsay says, “I don’t want your money.” and takes another long swallow.

  Derek stops pacing and caresses Lindsay’s cheek.

  “What do you want?”

  “I just want someone to love me, I thought Jason… oh Jason.”

  Derek resumes his pacing, but faster now, back and forth behind Lindsay.

  “I make one little mistake and you leave me. You started fucking Jason and flaunting it in my face.”

  Lindsay’s beer bottle slides from her hand and hits the floor. “I feel funny, weird.”

  “I cheat and you leave me. Jason cheats and you want him back, you hypocritical bitch.”

  Lindsay lies down on the sofa. “I wanna sleep… so tired.”

  “Jason, prick! He fucks my girlfriend and then pushes me around on Christmas Eve.”

  “Bed, I just wanna go to—”

  “You want to go to bed? Let’s go.” Derek lifts Lindsay up. Her eyes are half open and her head is lolled back. He carries her upstairs to her bedroom. As he enters the room he stops dead, startled, for a moment, he nearly mistook Boomer the Bear for a person.

  “What the…? It’s a goddamn Trojan bear.”

  He lays Lindsay on top of the unmade bed and stares at her.

  “You were mine till Jason came along. I would’ve talked you into giving me a second chance. I would’ve fucking married you and given you the damn White House.”

  Lindsay is in a fog, between the alcohol and the drug now speeding through her system.

  “Why Jason?” She moans.

  “Jason,” Derek spits, like an obscenity. He gazes at Lindsay as he undresses. “You’re so beautiful Number 29.” After folding his clothes neatly, he places them atop of Boomer the Bear’s honey pot and turns to pat Lindsay. “I’ve got my own honey pot right here.”