by Alan Conway
Lauren says she's moved to town. She's living with her cousin who's a freshman at the university down here. She's excited, but she's even more excited about a job interview tomorrow (hopefully not in telecommunications). I wish her luck then she shows me the new purse she got. It's made of pink seat belts. It's ridiculous looking, but I don't tell her that. What am I, an asshole?
Brian doesn't say much while we're on the road. At first, I think he might be mad at me for some reason, then I see his face in the rearview and relief washes over me because he's grinning. Grinning like a fucking idiot. Love this guy.
I'm blindfolded once we get to Brian's apartment. They carefully walk me up the stairs and it's excruciating because I can feel my ribs pop and grind. It doesn't really hurt that much, but the sound of it is enough to make me nauseous. I hear the door open and I step inside. I kick off my flip-flops and feel the plush, cool carpet beneath my feet. They walk me across the living room, down the hall, and into the spare bedroom where Brian has a small office. When he rips the blindfold off my face, I see it's no longer an office at all. His desk and bookcase are gone. I'm looking at all my stuff – my bed, my posters, TV, gaming console, stereo – from my old room, except it's neat and organized. Brian must have gone over there and brought it all over here.
But why?
Brian stands there looking at me, smiling with his arms crossed, pleased. “You can rearrange it however you like. Lauren and I finished decorating last night. We tried not to rush it, but it looks all right, I think.”
My brain tells my head to nod, but I'm not sure if it does. Lauren puts an arm around me and lays her head on my shoulder and I suddenly feel like crying. Don't do it. Don't you fucking do it.
I do though. I can't help it. I don't just cry but I sob like a little bitch.
I say, “Dude, I can't stay here. There's no way I can afford the rent on this place.”
Brian shrugs. “Who said anything about you paying anything?”
“No, no, I can't let you do that. I mean this is great, really fucking great. I just… Wait, what about the house Larry was renting?”
“That's been taken care of. You're not responsible for it. So, what do you think? Want to be my roommate?”
“Just say yes, hon,” Lauren whispers.
I do want to live here. I think about it more and I know it would be incredible. Me and Brian, roommates. We'll have so much fun. We'll go do things, watch movies, listen to music, but we'll still be boring and that's okay. Boring people are still interesting to each other.
“I'll help out though,” I say finally. “I'll get a job. I promise I will.”
“That's fine,” Brian says. “I think that'd be great for you anyway. But as long as you're here, you won't have to worry about anything.”
I nod and say thank you. Hell, I even say it again before the waterworks turn back on. I don't think I've ever been more grateful in my life.
But there are more surprises. Brian pushes open the closet door and there's my clothes.
“I resisted the urge to toss some of your threadbare stuff,” Brian says.
“That's good, because they're comfortable,” I say then slide open the closet door some more. There are my shoes and a wire caddy with my socks, underwear, and towels inside – all of them neatly folded. Hanging above them is a row of super nice shirts and jeans.
“You left some of your expensive clothes in here, Brian.”
“Those are yours.”
“What? You're shittin me.”
“I shit you not,” Brian says. “I went ahead and removed the tags so you wouldn't bust my chops about the price.”
I take a shirt off a hanger and hold it up to my chest. Oh yeah, this is definitely me. I check the size: Medium. Perfect. Then I check the inside label on the jeans. Also perfect. It says these are made of–
“Selvedge denim,” I read. “What the fuck is that?”
Brian just laughs.
Brian
Before Lauren agreed to help me out with Damon's room, she had asked me if I foresaw this situation becoming a problem in the future. I had said it doesn't matter. Damon needed somewhere to go and he had no money. Besides, I want him here.
I've taken the day off to spend time with Damon and to get him settled in. It doesn't take long. We make some adjustments to his room and go out for groceries.
I'm in the spice aisle when Mom calls. We use to be very close until I told her about myself – came out, whatever you want to call it. We make small talk, that's about all we do anymore. She wants me to come visit this weekend. I say I will. I tell her Damon has moved in with me but nothing more. She likes him. Mom always says Damon could show me how to find a girl so she can have some grandchildren. Or that I need to ask Lauren out, which leads to how Lauren and I would make such a great couple and would have beautiful babies. Mom's agenda has always been very clear, which leaves me with nothing but guilt for not being able to give her what she wants.
Damon drops some frozen pizzas into the shopping cart. I shake my head. He shrugs. I say goodbye to Mom and push on, forgetting the oregano. I have to go back and get it before we leave the store, leading me through the books and magazines. I pluck copies of National Geographic and Science of Tomorrow from the shelf and write them off as impulse buys without feeling too ashamed of burning ten bucks.
I start dinner – chicken fettucini with a garlic cream sauce. Damon puts his pizza in the oven. I don't make a big deal out of it because he's very picky and doesn't like homemade meals. Maybe he'll eat some of it to humor me.
He does.
He wants to watch football, but I don't know anything about it and don't care. But that's what we watch. I might as well be watching a Portuguese soap opera.
“Tell me,” Damon says, “how can you be from the south and not like football?”
“My parents never watched it and I was never into sports.”
“I remember you played baseball. Do you ever watch it on TV?”
I shake my head. "The only reason I even played in fourth grade was because of Mom.”
“She made you, didn't she?”
“Yep. Well it went something like this. She asks me if I want to play baseball. I say no, of course, then she says I think you will.”
Damon laughs hysterically at this.
“The same thing happened with the cub scouts.”
“You were in the scouts?”
“Yeah, same reason,” I say, joining in the laughter. “I didn’t want to join, but Mom said I think you will, Brian. And the same thing happened with swimming lessons, which I failed, by the way.”
“How did fail swimming lesson?”
“I wouldn't go under without holding my nose.”
“Then I would have failed, too,” Damon says. “I can't do it either.”
“Really?”
“Oh yeah, man. I don't even like getting in the ocean. I went once on my senior trip. If I can't see what's in the water, I'm not getting in it.”
My eyes are getting heavy. Too much food consumed too quickly, I guess. I hand Damon the remote and say goodnight. While I'm in bed reading Science of Tomorrow, I read about all the latest discoveries and technological breakthroughs around the globe.
One particular article catches my eye and nearly stops my heart. I read it carefully from start to finish. Then I read it again.
And again.
I turn out the light and lie there listening to the muffed voice of the sports announcer squawking on the TV in the living room.
My mind races, sifting through that article in my head. I think about the doctors, the scientists, and these three special individuals involved in this radical and controversial experiment.
I allow myself to drift off and think about it no more.
But I will think of it again. Someday.
C H A P T E R T H R E E
THE IMPOSSIBLE
Lauren
Today, I start training at local pathology lab called PathCheck. They made me an
offer and I took it without even thinking. I'm now a glorified data entry clerk, entering patient information and biopsy results into a computer. And to top it off, I don't have to deal with the public. Score.
Brian and I exchange emails from work. He says things are going well at home, and he's heading back to River City for the weekend. I tell him to send his mother my love.
Damon is also going but driving separately. I guess he'll be staying with one of his aunts.
Later, he calls me from the road and we catch up on all that's been going on. He looks for work during the day then he and Brian go to the gym together once Brian gets home. He says there's not much else going on, but I can tell something's on his mind.
“Lauren, has Brian said anything to you about…having any kind of…feelings for me?”
There it is. “It's no secret, hon.”
“Check this shit out,” he says, clearing his throat. “Before Larry put me in the hospital – don't you tell anyone this, okay?”
I say I won't. I'm all ears for details.
“Before all that, I stayed at Brian's and woke up next to him.”
“What?” I nearly scream it.
“Wait, wait, nothing happened, okay?” He goes on. “Brian passed out so I put him in his bed, and I planned to sleep on the couch but said fuck it and I guess I just crashed next to him.”
“Why are you trying to justify it? That doesn't seem odd at all.”
“Well,” he says, “what I did the next morning is what's so fucked up.”
I tell him to go on. I'm giddy! This is great!
“I kissed him.”
“You WHAT?! You–”
“Not on the mouth! Jesus, I swear you're getting the wrong idea already.”
“So…” Oh go ahead, Lauren. Say it. “How was it?”
He laughs some. “I don't know what came over me. I just felt… That's fuckin crazy, isn't it?”
“I don't know what to say,” I whisper. “That's incredible, Damon!”
“Well, I'll tell you right now that won't be happening again. He and I are friends. Friends don't sleep with each other and they sure as hell don't fuckin kiss each other. I just hope he didn't get the wrong idea and that's the reason why he moved me in with him.”
“Just let it be,” I say. “Go visit your folks and try to have a good time. Call me later.”
He says all right and we hang up. At least his gears are turning.
And good things are in the works.
Brian
I get into River City before noon. I'm relieved to see the house where I grew up, something so familiar and wonderful I can't wait to step inside. When I do, I'm hit with a powerful aroma of cooking meats and vegetables – pot roast. My favorite.
My mother is the most excellent cook living on this planet. Her delicious dishes are something I often miss while staring into my empty refrigerator. It's hard to cook for one person. I can cook a decent meal, don't get me wrong, but unless there are others to wolf it down, I'm stuck eating the same thing for a week. I bend down and wrap my arms around her because she's a good foot shorter than I am.
“How are you?” Mom asks.
“Great. Smells good in here.”
“Are you eating?”
“What?”
“You look thin. Are you eating well? Do you have money?”
I laugh and say, “I'm fine, Mother. And yes, I have money. I've been working for some time now.”
“But I know how you like to spend money.”
“Do you even know me? I'm a tightwad.”
She shrugs without humor, taking the roast out of the oven. I've been here five minutes and I'm already uncomfortable.
“Buddy boy,” Paul says, waking up from his nap on the couch. Unlike Damon, I lucked out with a cooler stepfather – although he enjoys the hell out of picking on me, but it's all in good fun. “Heard you got a new roommate.”
“Yeah, you remember Damon,” I say.
“Dark hair? The ladies’ man?”
“That's him.” I chuckle a bit but neither of them know why and that's fine. The joke is all mine.
I take my bag up to my old room and as I ascend the stairs, a lifetime of memories flood through me. Games of Monopoly, sleepovers, parties, toys scattered across the second floor hallway, my sisters (stepsisters actually) chasing me up and down these steps. I open the door to the room where I lived as a boy and then as a young man. The ghostly fragrance of moments passed, life lived without a care in the world. I sit on the bed for a long time just thinking, breathing. I use the bathroom and go back downstairs to shoot the bull with Mom and Paul.
I hear them whispering. They stop once they see me. Mom asks me to take a look at her computer. She's been trying to create an invitation for a party she's hosting for friends and can't get the program to print it correctly. I fix it within minutes and take my place at the bar while Mother delivers her feast.
I check my phone. No messages. I put it next to my plate and dig in without waiting.
“Talked to your dad in a while?” Mom asks.
“Not really,” I say. My dad's a good man. A simple man, but a hard worker and smarter than anyone I know. I should visit him more often.
“You should go see him while you're down here,” Mom says. “I'm sure Nick would love to see you.”
Nick is my seven-year-old half-brother. He was born a couple years after my father married a quiet but lovely woman named Alice. My dad and I use to spend a lot of time together when he was single, but that was a long time ago. And since then, there are a lot of things I discovered about myself that would probably destroy what small relationship we still have if he ever knew.
And that kind of secret is very hard to keep.
Damon
I get on the horn once I roll into town. I call up some of the old friends from high school and plan a little shindig in back of my aunt's place. We build a bonfire and Roger Eakes brings a keg. Only four people show up, but it's enough for a party. But it's not quite a party yet. I get a boom-box from the shed and plug it in. Still not a party.
Others come by, but they don't stay long. Then Tyler Dorsey shows up with some chicks.
Now it's a party.
But wait. What's that? Is that guilt? Amber Childress and Laura Peters rock their way over to me. Why does this feel so threatening?
“Hello, ladies,” I say, finishing my beer. “Where've you been hiding?”
“You're the one who left us, Mr. Loveless,” Amber says. I fucked her once in the back of my car on some back road out in Cullman County. Or maybe that was with Laura. I can't remember.
I make sure they each have a sweaty cup of panty-dropping brew before throwing on a new CD. Something to make these bitches grind.
You might be wondering why I didn't invite Brian, and the answer is simple – this isn't his scene. But there might be another reason why I don't want him here.
Brian's ghost whispers in my ear I'm jealous of them.
Amber puts a hand on my back, my ears tingle.
“I heard about what happened to you, Damon,” Amber says. “If you need someone to talk to, I'm here for you.” I know she doesn't mean it. She wants something from me. I won't lie. I want something from her, too.
“Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now” blasts through the stereo, echoing across the trees and into the night. I get this sick feeling and have to go inside. I splash water on my face and stare at myself in the bathroom mirror. The scar is healing up nicely, but I wonder if there are other scars I can't see, scars that might take longer to repair.
I try not to think about it.
Before I even make it to the back door, Heather Meeks stops me.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I say, backing up.
“I heard you were in town. I just wanted to see how you were.”
“Really.” I push past her but she grabs my arm. “You need to get out of here,” I say, ripping my arm away, making sure she sees the fire in my eyes. “I have nothing t
o say to you.”
“But I have something to say to you. Just listen, please. It's important.”
“No. No, I can't. Can't do it right now, Heather. Just go. Go away. Now.”
I don't even say goodbye to everyone. I disappear. I drive the back roads looking for peace. I do this for hours. I finally pull off Highway 7 and park near the Sand Mountain Church. I recline my seat and try to think of absolutely nothing. My breath is the only thing I hear.
I'm so fucking confused. So many thoughts and feelings rolling around in my head, my heart. I haven't been this fucked up emotionally since… Well, since me and Heather were together, which ended really fucking badly. Getting over that took way too long.
But things have been better since I've closed myself off. Right?
I'm not so sure. It's like a part of me is reviving because I have let someone in. Just a little, but I have. And I didn't even know it was happening.
Brian
I'm ready for the best sleep of my life. I haven't slept in this room in many years, and I right now I'm snuggled up in total darkness with childlike innocence.
Then my mind starts to wander.
Life has been no picnic, but it has been without regret. I would not be who I am had certain events not transpired. My life force reaches out to another, one certainly wakeful at this hour, controller in hand, lost on the battlefield in some video game. I thank God for my family and friends, and for that one soul I long to entwine with my own. Gaelic culture calls it the anam cara, or soul friend.
Love has been challenging, fooling me with disguises and clever tricks, but I have not been without it for a moment's time. I am loved and deeply grateful. The one I wish to give my love has not been as receptive as I had hoped, but he loves me in the capacity in which he is able.
I miss him now. My thoughts turn to him frequently, and a smile escapes me without hesitation. I have no shame for my feelings, only shame for the situation that separates us.
My consciousness starts to give way to a joyous dream world when my phone beeps. It startles me into wakefulness and now I'm pissed. I'm so close. Just breathe and relax and–
