“How do you know?” Jacob asked.
“I was there when you were born,” Celia said. “You came out of me. I’d know if there were two of you. Your father would, too.”
“Oh,” Jacob said.
A few moments passed before Celia stole a look at Jacob again.
“Why?” Celia asked.
“I saw a boy who looked just like me,” Jacob said. “I think he lives in Cheesman Park.”
“Did this boy steal your money?” Celia asked.
“No,” Jacob said with a hard shake of his head. “No way.”
They fell silent. When Sam Lipson came home, Celia launched into the whole story about how Jacob had money to buy his brand-new red scooter and Celia had let him have a day off school to buy the scooter on his own because he promised he was adult enough to handle it, and now Jacob was now home without the scooter or his jacket or his sweater, and Jacob was not talking about how the money or his jacket or his sweater disappeared. Sam looked at Jacob before taking Celia into their bedroom. For what felt like forever, the hamburger and tomato food-like dinner bubbled on the stove and Celia and Sam’s voices murmured in the background. Sam came out of the bedroom and waved to Jacob to come with him. Celia went back to scowling at the hamburger and tomatoes.
Sam put his arm around Jacob, and they went into the garage. Sitting across from his honest, hardworking father, Jacob was unable to keep the story to himself. Jacob spilled his guts about the boy who looked just like Jacob and was bleeding really bad and the cab driver and the hospital and his sweater and jacket and — what his mother didn’t know — that he’d given the boy his hand-knit hat and gloves. Sam listened to the entire thing without comment. When it was over, Sam hugged Jacob tight. Jacob sobbed into his father’s chest. When Jacob was done, Sam set him on his feet.
“You’re still grounded,” Sam said. “We must experience the consequences of our actions, even if our hearts and actions are in the right place.”
“I understand,” Jacob said. “Are you going to tell Mom?”
“Why didn’t you?” Sam asked.
“It didn’t feel right,” Jacob said.
“It doesn’t feel right to me, either,” Sam said. “How much did this boy look like you?”
“Same hair and eyes,” Jacob said. “He’s shorter than me and skinner. He looks kind of sick.”
Biting the inside of his bottom lip, Sam gave Jacob a sincere nod.
“Can we help him?” Jacob dared to ask.
“God willing,” Sam said.
From inside the house, Celia screamed: “Oh, my God! Oh, my God!” over and over again. Sam gave Jacob the “Your mother needs me” look and left the garage. Jacob followed his father inside.
“We got the contract!” Celia yelled and danced around the kitchen. “We got the contract! We got the contract!”
Celia was so loud that Valerie came out to see what was going on. The hamburger and tomatoes dinner-like concoction began to burn on the stove.
“The one for DIA?” Sam asked.
“A woman-owned company, Lipson Construction was awarded the contract for water, sewer, and roads for Denver’s new airport,” Celia read off a letter.
Inside Jacob, Blane watched the family celebrate.
After a moment, the world spun again. Around and around and around he went.
“Hey, asshole!” Jacob’s voice came from behind him.
Blane was standing on the edge of the road in Cheesman Park. He’d been living on the streets that last year or so. The group-home leader had learned that Blane had gotten HIV from the evangelical foster father. There was no room for an HIV positive kid, even if the group home leader received six-hundred dollars a month for him. Blane was able to support himself by working in the park. He just had to be careful not to spread the virus. Really careful.
“Hey!” Jacob said. “I’m taking to you.”
He spun Blane around. Blane was still wearing the sweater and jacket Jacob had given him all those years ago.
“I don’t appreciate being called a fag!” Jacob said.
He pushed Blane’s chest. They were fourteen or fifteen now. Jacob was big, muscular, and strong, while Blane looked like a skeleton.
“Then stop being one,” Blane said with a smirk.
Blane was high from the heroin “bump” he’d just injected. He was completely out of reasons to care about much of anything, especially this spoiled rich kid.
“Everyone thinks I’m gay because you’re out here every day,” Jacob said.
He pushed Blane’s chest again. A car slowed down, and the passenger window rolled down. A man wearing a gold wedding ring leaned over.
“How much for a twosome?” the man asked.
“Fuck off, granddad,” Jacob yelled at the man.
The man flipped them off and drove away. Jacob pushed Blane one more time and stomped away. Not an hour later, a tall blonde woman appeared out of nowhere. Blane was sitting under an evergreen smoking crack. The woman didn’t say a word to him. She grabbed him by the arm and stuffed him into a silver Mercedes Benz.
His mind began to spin again. Around and around and around and around his mind went until it jerked to a halt.
Blane was standing in the kitchen of the loft apartment he shared with Enrique Sierra. He was in the middle of making his signature dish — seared ginger-scallops over a bed of steamed asparagus and his special rice. A bottle of stupidly expensive red wine was breathing in a quiet corner of the kitchen and a loaf of sourdough bread was on its second rise in the oven.
Despite himself, present-day Blane felt a wave of nostalgia for this life. He was a head chef at an overpriced restaurant. He was living with a man who was not just gorgeous, but smart and funny, too. Present-day Blane also knew that Enrique was a mere two hours away from hearing from one of Blane’s oldest friends that Blane had been a prostitute. Blane was three days away from learning that Enrique had cheated on him for their entire three-and-a-half year relationship and that Blane now had Hepatitis C, care of one of Enrique’s one-night stands. Blane was four days away from Enrique destroying this perfect life by telling everyone, including his boss and, for good measure, the owner of the restaurant, that Blane was HIV-positive and Hepatitis C-positive. Blane was less than a week away from being out on the streets, again.
At this moment, Blane was deliciously happy, confident, and in love.
“I think it’s kind of hot that you have a near-identical twin,” Enrique said. He picked up an iced shrimp and dipped it into sauce. He made an appreciative sound. “I love that sauce. Someday I’m going to paint it on you.”
Blane grinned at the idea and went back to work.
“You won’t like him,” Blane said. “He’s very spoiled. He grew up with this amazing family who supported his every whim. He just got back from college in Maine — totally paid for by his parents, of course. No student loans for precious Jacob. He never had to work for a thing in his entire life. And his parents are fantastic. His mother was this amazing woman. There were thousands of people, like ten thousand, at her funeral.”
“Didn’t his mom take you in when you were homeless?” Enrique asked.
“Sure,” Blane said. “She took me into their Crestmoor mansion. I was her project. Let’s get this poor homeless boy off drugs. It was . . . weird.”
“Don’t you think you’re being a little harsh?” Enrique asked.
“Harsh?” Blane asked. “I was there to suit her enormous ego! And Jacob, well, you’d just have to meet him to know what an asshole he is.”
Enrique nodded, and the doorbell rang. The party took off from there.
Blane mind began to spin again. He replayed the scene in Enrique’s and his apartment over and over again. Each time he remembered this instance, he stabbed himself in the heart. How could he have been such a jerk? Shame and self-loathing spun around and around and around in his mind, until it tossed him head first into the factual memory from the kitchen of the apartment Blane had shared with E
nrique.
Blane was standing in the kitchen of the loft apartment he had shared with Enrique Sierra. He was in the middle of making his signature dish — seared ginger-scallops over a bed of steamed asparagus. His signature orzo bubbled on the stove. A bottle of stupidly expensive red wine was breathing in a quiet corner of the kitchen and a loaf of sourdough bread was on its second rise in the oven. At this moment, Blane was deliciously happy.
“I think it’s kind of hot that you have a near-identical twin,” Enrique said. He picked up an iced shrimp and dipped it into sauce. He made an appreciative sound. “You think he’d ever join us?”
“No,” Blane said with a laugh. “He is very, very straight.”
“Even if I painted him with this sauce?” Enrique asked.
Blane grinned at the idea and went back to work.
“I just think it would be fun to be surrounded by you and your look-a-like.” Enrique wiggled his eyebrows.
The memory of Jacob confronting him in Cheesman Park flashed in front of Blane’s eyes. He blushed and focused on his work.
“I can see by your reaction that you would like that, too,” Enrique said.
“You won’t like him,” Blane said, trying to put Enrique off. He knew that, once Enrique had picked up an idea, he could have a singular focus. “He just got back from college in Maine. He’s kind of . . . spoiled mountain man now.”
“Didn’t his mom take you in when you were homeless?” Enrique asked.
“She did,” Blane said.
“Wouldn’t that make it better?” Enrique said. “Hey, I’ll even let him . . .
The doorbell rang.
“We are not done talking about this,” Enrique said. “Under every straight man lives a gay man wanting to come out. I’m sure this is true for your precious Jacob.”
The doorbell rang a second time. Enrique gave Blane a smoky look and went to answer the door.
Two hours later, Enrique found out that Blane had prostituted himself in Cheesman. He’d been so angry that he’d left the apartment with two of his friends, who’d invited him for a threesome.
Three days later, Blane found out from his HIV doctor that he’d developed Hepatitis C of the same genetic makeup as Enrique’s. Since Enrique was pouting at his friends’ house, Blane had gone to Enrique’s work, where he witnessed with his own eyes Enrique being unfaithful to their relationship. When he confronted Enrique, he’d learned the entire truth. Reeling from the news, Blane had gone to the downtown Denver Pubic Library to read about Hepatitis C. By the time he’d returned to the apartment, his clothing was strewn all over their lawn. He’d been fired from his job, and a repo man was waiting to take his car.
Too shocked to do anything else, Blane just stood in front of their home
Chapter Four Hundred and Eight
He had been standing in front of his loft for a while when a rumbling old Bronco pulled up behind him. Turning, Blane saw Jacob in the driver’s seat. Jacob jumped out of the driver’s seat and jogged to Blane’s side.
“You want any of this . . . stuff?” Jacob asked.
Not capable of speech, Blane shook his head.
“Looks like he kept anything of value, anyway,” Jacob said. “I’ll get some guys to come by and clean this up so you don’t get a ticket.”
“He took my car,” Blane said. “The one your mom bought for me when I graduated Chef’s school.”
“That’s going to be a mess to sort out,” Jacob said with a laugh. He looked deep into Blane’s eyes. “Do you really care about the car?”
In that moment, he saw that Jacob truly got him.
“Get me out of here,” Blane whispered. “I can’t move.”
Jacob smiled. As he had when they were eight years old, Jacob put his arm around Blane. Jacob guided Blane into the passenger seat of the Bronco. Slamming the door, Jacob went around to the driver’s seat. They drove to a very dilapidated Castle, where Delphie helped Blane into the building. Together, they put Blane into Jacob’s bed in his recently remodeled basement bedroom. They stayed with Blane while he sobbed, threw up, and writhed with pain.
Every time Blane turned on his phone, he learned another piece of horrible news. The life he’d worked day and night to create out of the misery of his past was now in flames. Terrified that he’d kill himself, neither Jacob nor Delphie dared to leave Blane’s side. When Blane was able to sleep, Delphie stayed with him so that Jacob could attempt to sort out the mess with Enrique.
Two months to the day after Blane had been hurled from his life, he was sitting down at a desk outside Jacob’s office. He hadn’t cried all day in three days. Jacob passed his desk and absent mindedly dropped a catalogue for the School of Chinese Medicine onto Blane’s desk. Blane opened the cover of the catalog and knew he’d found the place to start over.
He still cried all day some days. Slowly but surely, with Jacob and Delphie’s help, he took the first steps toward a new life.
Present-day Blane seethed with shame and self-loathing. The factual memory served only to enhance his feelings of unworthiness.
Why had Jacob ever helped him? Why had Celia ever bothered with scumbag Blane?
Blane’s shame was so overwhelming that he struggled to breathe. If he weren’t in the middle of trying to save Jacob’s life, he’d surely have gone to that very basement bedroom and done what he should have done all those years ago — hanged himself. He swore to himself that he would kill himself the moment he had a chance.
Shame swirled around him. Inside this wall of shame, Blane’s self-loathing began to deconstruct his entire life. He was deep into the reasons Heather was better off without him, when a Colorado Mountain Rabbit hopped through the shame wall. Blane was so surprised that he looked up.
The rabbit hopped onto Blane’s lap and began to groom himself. Surprised, Blane gawked at the rabbit. With one paw folding over his ear, the rabbit peeked up at Blane. Seeing that Blane was looking at him, the rabbit seemed to grin.
Blane blinked as he remembered all of the rabbits he’d known. He’d fed a family of rabbits when he’d lived in Cheesman Park. His best friend had a pet rabbit in the group home. Every time he was in the mountains with Jacob, he saw scores of rabbits. They would hop right up to Blane while they scattered in fear when Jacob was around. Blane held his hand over the rabbit, and it seemed to nod. His self-loathing forgotten, Blane pet the rabbit.
The deck outside of the medical offices disappeared, and Blane was sitting in the meadow tucked between Holy Cross Mountain and the high reaches of Middle Mountain. The meadow was accessible only on foot. Only few people ever bothered to come here every year. It was beautiful, peaceful, and sheer heaven on earth to Blane. He and Jacob used to spend a week here at least twice a summer. Now that they were busy with their own families, they had squeezed in only a long weekend last summer and hoped to do the same this year.
The rabbit seemed content to sit on Blane’s lap. Blane picked some wild dandelions and fed the rabbit the leaves. As he’d thought no less than a hundred times before, Blane felt like he could live in this valley for the rest of his life. The rabbit in his lap stiffened.
A fox slunk out of the forest. The gorgeous, red-furred creature stuck his nose up into the air and took a few sniffs. The fox crossed the meadow in front of him. Blane was instinctively drawn to the fox. The creature stopped on the edge of the meadow and began cleaning himself. Blane was completely enraptured by the fox. The fox spied Blane — the animal looked the man deep in his eyes. Entranced, Blane watched the fox with pure love.
Blane was about to get up from where he’d been sitting when the rabbit bit Blane hard on the leg. Blane shouted with pain and looked down at the rabbit. The animal in his lap seemed to be pointing. Blane looked up to see that the fox was reaching out toward them with its mouth open. Blane gasped and jerked back, just in time to save the rabbit.
A battered mountain lion sprang out of the forest after the fox. The mountain lion roared and gnashed his teeth in the direction of th
e fox. Before Blane could even respond, the mountain lion had chased the fox across the meadow and back into the dark woods. Blane and the bunny panted with relief.
When the mountain lion returned, Blane stiffened, but the rabbit in his lap didn’t seem frightened. The mountain lion strode across the meadow to where Blane and his rabbit were sitting. The rabbit stood up on his haunches, and the mountain lion licked the side of the rabbit’s face. Blane gawked at the mountain lion.
The mountain lion gave Blane the “I’ve got this” grin that Jacob often gave, and Blane laughed out loud. An enormous crow appeared and cawed in such a way that the entire meadow shook. The fox had reappeared at the edge of the meadow. With a laugh on the wind, the mountain lion was racing across the meadow. The crow met him in the middle of the field, and they took off after the fox.
Blane could not blame the fox for being a fox any more than he could blame Enrique for being himself.
Blane couldn’t blame himself for translating his fear and trauma into shame and self-loathing. That was his dream, his insanity.
Across the meadow, he saw the mountain lion laugh at him for a moment before running straight at Blane. The rabbit in Blane’s lap didn’t move. Instead, the rabbit looked up at Blane as if to say, “Watch this.” The mountain lion ran full speed at Blane. About a foot from where Blane was sitting, the mountain lion smacked into a barrier. With a scream of pain, the mountain lion fell onto his back in the meadow. He ran at the barrier again.
“Isn’t that good?” Blane asked.
The more the mountain lion ran into the barrier, the more beat up the mountain lion became, until Blane was weeping with empathy for the mountain lion.
“Stop!” Blane yelled. “Please stop! I’ll do anything! Please stop!”
The rabbit looked up at Blane with a smile. Before Blane could react, the rabbit had climbed up Blane’s arms and was standing on his head. The rabbit scratched around the top of Blane’s head until the rabbit jumped down onto Blane’s lap. The bunny was holding a black object with what looked like black smoke swirling around it. Without saying another word, the rabbit hopped to the mountain lion. The mountain lion bent down, and the rabbit hopped onto his back. As he watched, the mountain lion, with the enormous crow flying overhead, trotted out of the meadow.
Olney Springs Page 23
