by Riley Parks
Evan should have been elated as he exited the prison door and relieved when he saw Amy standing by the gate, but he was anything but. He’d left his heart behind in his small cell and the ghost ache in his chest was painful.
If he was on the inside, he’d be serving Jackson some inedible food, passing him a note, gazing into his eyes. Instead his boyfriend was in there without him. For twenty-eight days Evan wouldn’t get to see Jackson’s wonderful face, kiss his pouty lips, feel his hard body; a punishment significantly more brutal than the two years he spent in prison.
“Hey,” Amy said, a half grin on her face as she hugged Evan. “You look good. Healthy.”
“Thanks. Feel good, minus you know.” He sniffed and gestured back to the building. “Left someone kinda important in there.”
“One month,” Amy reminded him, digging into her purse to pull out an envelope and cell phone. “Jack has the number. He’s going to call you whenever he gets to use the phone, so keep the ringer on.” She handed Evan the envelope and he peeked inside. “There’s $1,000 in there.”
“It’s…wow. Thanks,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief.
“I mean, it’s not my money. Thank Jackson,” she said with a shrug. “It should be enough for you to get a room at an extended-stay place that gives you breakfast.” She paused to study Evan’s face. “Just don’t use it on drugs. You’ll break his fucking heart.”
Typically guilt didn’t work on him. The idea of somebody putting their feelings in his hands and expecting a certain outcome was downright abhorrent, but he found it impossible to disregard his boyfriend’s emotions. The thought of disappointing or hurting Jackson was harrowing. It was something he planned to avoid doing at any cost. “I won’t. I’m done with that shit,” he assured her, hoping it was a promise he was able to keep.
She nodded. “You have any idea of where you guys are going to go when he gets out?”
“Yeah, um, this place in Arizona. It’s called Flagstaff.” Evan looked down at his boot, not able to face her when asking a question that made him feel so vulnerable. “Do you think he really wants to go? I mean, he says he does, but I worry that he’ll change his mind. That we’ll get there and he’ll want to come home or some shit.”
She laughed lightly. “Jackson doesn’t do anything that he doesn’t want to do, and for you,” she paused, “he’d do anything.”
“But I want him to want to, you know. Not do it because he thinks he’ll lose me, or whatever. I’d never leave him.”
“As much as it sucks for me, I think this is what’s best for him. I really believe it’s what he wants, too. He worries about me, I know that, but being thousands of miles away from here and never looking back… He wants that,” she promised. “Are you going to stay around here until the twelfth?”
Evan nodded, slipping the money and phone into his backpack. “Yeah, going to lay low, take hot showers, and eat shitty food that doesn’t taste shitty.”
“Sounds like a plan. I’ll see you back here on the twelfth then. If you need anything else, you know my number.”
“Three one two-two six seven-three one four two,” Evan rattled off with a smirk.
“Good,” Amy stated, pulling him in for a hug. “Don’t hesitate to use it.”
He hugged her back, thinking how strange it was that he felt close to her. Maybe it was because she was, in many ways, an extension of Jackson or that she never judged Evan even when she should have. She’d accepted him when he wasn’t worthy of acceptance, something his family had never been able to do. And for that, he was grateful.
They parted ways with Amy making her way to the L and Evan heading toward the small town center a few miles away from the prison. He decided there wasn’t much use in going farther because the closer he got to the South Side, the more chance he’d have of running into somebody he wanted to avoid.
He checked into a little shithole motel that charged him twenty-nine dollars a day, had a McDonald’s across the street and a convenience store down the block. After paying for twenty-eight days upfront, he headed toward the golden arches and made love to a quarter pounder with cheese. It tasted really fucking good, but he figured it would’ve been even better if Jackson was sitting across from him. When Evan was done, he went to the store to buy toiletries, a notebook, and pencils. Though paper and pencil weren’t his medium, it was better than nothing.
As soon as he opened the door to his room, his new cell phone began to ring. He picked it up as quickly as possible and threw the rest of his crap onto his bed. “Jackson?”
“You have a collect call from an inmate at Metropolitan Correctional Center. Please press one to accept the call.”
Evan pressed with all his heart.
“Jack?” Evan repeated once the line clicked over.
“Hey,” Jackson muttered, his tone more sullen than usual. He sounded a million miles away even though he was down the road. Evan tried to imagine where he was standing, thinking of the gray wall in front of him and the men in orange jumpsuits on either side. He never thought he’d long for the inside of a prison, but found that being on the outside felt like being locked down when his boyfriend wasn’t with him.
“You a’ight?”
“Still in prison, so I’ve been better,” Jack said with a wry laugh. He let out a labored sigh and spoke more softly into the phone. “Missing your goofy face.”
“Miss you too,” Evan replied sadly, picking the lint off the nearly threadbare comforter. “Wish we had the same amount of time.”
“Don’t do anything stupid and get your crazy ass thrown back in here,” Jackson warned. “Just chill the fuck out and don’t get into trouble.”
“I’m good,” Evan assured. “Just going to lie around, watch TV, draw, and eat McDonald’s.”
“Don’t bring up McDonald’s,” Jackson groaned.
“Sorry.” He thought of the disgusting food he’d been serving the day before and immediately regretted bringing up something even half edible to Jackson.
“Where are you?”
“At a piece-of-shit motel a few miles from the prison.”
“And you’re going to lay low, right?”
“Jackson,” Evan said with an exasperated sigh, “I’m not going to fuck this up, a’ight? I want out of here. I’m not going to do anything to jeopardize that. Believe me.”
“Just want this bullshit over with,” Jackson admitted.
“I do too.”
“Only got a few more minutes, but,” he paused, “tell me more about it.”
“About what?”
“Where we’re going,” he prompted.
Evan smiled, glad to hear the hopefulness and excitement in his boyfriend’s voice. He’d been able to share only the same few facts every time Jackson had asked, but he hadn’t seemed to mind the repetition. “It’s the largest city in Northern Arizona, but it’s kind of outdoorsy with like mountains and forests and shit.”
“Never seen either of those,” Jackson stated, just as he always had when they had the conversation.
“Yeah, me either. It’s hot in the summer and cold in the winter. It snows and stuff but not as much as here.”
“Don’t sound bad.”
“Nah, I think it will be pretty nice. It’s got a good art scene, but we can get an apartment for way cheaper than we could in some of the places in California that are known to be creative or whatever,” Evan reminded Jack. “And there’s a university there, you know, so there’s a lot of shit going on.”
Jackson let out a labored sigh. “I can’t fucking wait, baby.”
“I can’t either. Twenty-eight days, Jack. Twenty-eight days and we’ll be on our way.”
“Twenty-eight days,” Jackson repeated.
X
There was no avoiding the fact that looking forward to something made his time in prison move impossibly slower than it had when he was in the drudges of his sentence. Jackson felt like he lived a year every day and hated that the only time the minutes flew by
was when he was on the phone with Evan.
His boyfriend had proved to be down for him in ways Jack had never expected. He never missed one of his calls and spent most of his time checking shit out on the motel’s computer so he could share something new or interesting about Flagstaff. The little details made it easier for Jackson’s mind to escape the confines of the prison walls and daydream of what the future would hold.
As much as Jackson loved hearing about Evan’s research, he loved the lucidness in his voice even more. Evan promised him that he was remaining clean, and his coherence acted as confirmation. Jackson had had a taste of what Evan was like when he wasn’t inebriated, but never for long stretches of time. The prospect of a sober Evan excited Jack as much as the move.
Twenty-eight days after Evan had made this trek, Jackson walked down the hallway to the exterior doors, holding the items he’d arrived with twenty-six months earlier in his trembling hands. Anticipation was sparking through him like a live wire and he couldn’t wait to get the fuck outside. The guard made some corny joke that Jackson barely comprehended, his mind too jumbled with the buzz of emotions. When the guard opened the door and gestured for Jackson to exit, he squinted into the sun, attempting to distinguish the figures in front of him.
A choked declaration of his name filled the air as strong arms wrapped around him. Dropping his shit, Jackson placed his palms on Evan’s cheeks and accepted the kiss that Evan pressed onto Jack’s lips in front of Amy and the guard. They kissed as if they were desperate to make up for twenty-six lost months and two decades of closeted years. They stayed connected until they were breathless, pulling back only when they needed to take in air.
Evan’s arm remained around Jackson’s waist as Amy pulled her brother in for a hug. “Here’s your jacket,” she said, handing him a coat so he wasn’t left standing in his summer attire. He wasn’t sure if it was the cold or adrenaline that had him feeling so goddamn shaky, but he was glad for the warmth either way.
“Thanks,” he said with a grin, looking at his sister for what was sure to be the last time in a while.
“Nah. I’m the one that’s supposed to thank you,” she tsked, embracing him again. “Don’t worry about me, okay? I’ll be fine.” Jackson nodded as she handed him his duffel back. “It’s got everything you asked for plus your bank cards.”
“You sure you’re going to be all right?”
“Positive,” she assured him. “Just get the fuck out of here before I start to cry like a bitch, okay?”
X
Amy watched as her brother and his boyfriend walked away hand in hand, bags slung over their shoulders, smiling lips stealing kisses as they made their way toward their forever.
They didn’t look back.
EPILOGUE
Evan never had a concept of time. He wasn’t sure if it was the chemicals he’d altered his body with that had caused him to live exclusively in the moment or if it was a consequence of a life he never found particularly worth living. Loving Jackson had altered so much, but the most jarring change had been an increased awareness of how fleeting an hour was, how fast a week could pass, and that even May had only thirty-one short days. It was strange how the years in prison had crawled by, forcing him to move like molasses through each day and wish the months away, while the year after had raced past him at a neck-breaking pace, full of moments he was unable to grasp on to even though he had desperately tried. Any amount of time with Jackson wasn’t enough, each hour ephemeral.
“What’re you thinking about?” his boyfriend asked, snapping him out of his thoughts and bringing him back to the present, another moment he wouldn’t be able to keep.
“Painting,” Evan replied, smiling at Jack before turning his attention back to the grouping of evergreen trees that stood proudly across from the balcony of their townhouse.
Jackson laughed and tapped the ash off his cigarette. “That ain’t new. What about it?”
“I think it’s the only way to freeze time.” Evan paused and shook his head. “You paint a moment and all of a sudden it’s yours. You can revisit it whenever you want.”
Jack nodded and grinned at Evan when he caught his eyes.
“What?” Evan questioned, mirroring the look of amusement that was on his boyfriend’s face.
“Like when you get like this,” Jackson stated. “All philosophical and shit. Like you know what you’re doing matters.”
“Matters to me at least,” Evan said, clarifying his statement when he saw Jackson bite his lip and lift his eyebrows. “And to you. It matters to you, too.”
“And the motherfucker that bought your painting two days ago. Bet it matters to him, right?” Jack reminded him. “He liked it enough to pay for it and hang it in his house, so it probably does.”
“To him too,” Evan agreed, shaking his head in disbelief. “Still can’t believe I sold one.”
“Your first one,” Jackson corrected. “First of many.” He dropped his cigarette into the ashtray and patted his lap. “C’mere.”
Evan obliged, climbing onto Jack, his legs straddled on either side of Jackson’s hips, lips pressed against lips, stolen morning minutes before the start of their busy day. “I love you,” Evan whispered as Jackson raked his fingers through Evan’s hair and pulled him back in again for another kiss.
“Really fucking proud of you, man,” Jackson told him, blue eyes earnest and full of emotion.
“Only paid for a month’s rent, not that big of a deal,” Evan said with a shrug.
“It’s ain’t about that and you know it,” Jackson chided. “Going to have to get used to me complimenting you for something other than the way you fuck, Evan.”
Evan rolled his eyes and laughed. “Don’t act like that’s not your favorite talent.”
“Shut up.” Jackson grinned when Evan leaned back in. Their tongues tangled languidly as they continued to push back their responsibilities. When the alarm on Jackson’s cell phone chimed, they knew there was no more avoiding the inevitable. “Going to be late for class.”
“My businessman,” Evan flirted, grasping the fabric of Jackson’s t-shirt in his fist and biting his lower lip. “Fucking hot-ass businessman.”
“It’s one class that I get for being a fucking slave to the university,” Jackson replied with a laugh.
“But you clean that cafeteria like a stud,” Evan teased, giving his boyfriend a peck.
“You wouldn’t believe how entitled these motherfuckers are. They leave their trays on the table,” Jack groused with a sigh. “I want to punch them in their fucking snot faces.”
“Know how you feel,” Evan sympathized, thinking of how snobbish the clientele at the gallery was, turning up their noses when he came through with the broom. He was thankful for the small corner Grant gave him to display his work, but cleaning the space wasn’t Evan’s dream.
Jackson always told Evan that it was a small step toward the greater good, and Evan did his best to remind his boyfriend of the same. “Going to be late tonight. First Friday Art Walk.”
Jackson nodded. “Yeah, I was thinking of coming by.”
“You were?” Evan felt light. “Thought it wasn’t your scene.”
“You’ll be there, so I’ll make it my scene,” Jackson said matter-of-factly.
“Bet all the free drinks and food got nothing to do with it, huh?” Evan teased, nibbling on one of his favorite spots, Jackson’s pouty lower lip.
“Not a thing,” Jack deadpanned, unable to keep a straight face. “I’ll see you after my shift, all right?” He spanked Evan’s ass so he’d stand up.
“I’ll walk out with you,” Evan offered, following Jackson through the house. They grabbed their backpacks and locked the front door behind them. Pulling Jackson in for another kiss before he headed in the opposite direction, Evan said, “Ten hours.”
“Ten hours,” Jackson assured him, patting his cheek and looking softly into his eyes. “I’ll call you after class and on my break, all right?”
Evan no
dded wondering when he’d become so fucking codependent. He figured it was around the same time he started to feel like time was slipping away from them, no matter how hard he tried to hold on to it. “When we get home tonight I’m going to paint you.”
“I like your other stuff though,” Jackson chided, a pink hue crawling across his cheeks, ever the shy model.
“I like today.” Evan sighed. “Going to hold on to it.”
Jackson slotted his mouth against Evan’s for one last kiss and then turned to head to the bus stop.
“That ass tho,” Evan called with a grin, earning middle fingers and a laugh from his boyfriend.
Ten hours.
Six hundred minutes.
Thirty-six thousand seconds until he saw the love of his life.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Riley has always loved to write, believing that life has the possibility to be its most beautiful when it’s portrayed on the pages of a book. Feeling the need to create and liberate in the midst of the political landscape, Riley writes novels that focus on LGBTQ protagonists, wanting to honor a community that deserves better representation depicting lives, loves and triumphs in all facets of fiction.
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