The waters of the red sky drenched Jack in crimson, as he let his face be covered. He enjoyed feeling the wetness on his skin; a reminder that he was alive, and that things could be worse. The face of a woman kept nagging at the back of his head, but he quickly clamped his mind shut. He couldn’t look at her for long. He didn’t know why, but something about her was unknowable. Or perhaps he shouldn’t know her. No matter what, he kept his mind closed so he didn’t have to think about what she meant to him.
“You gonna stay there long?” Asked a voice behind him.
“Just a bit more.” Replied Jack.
Those two strangers, Jack and the voice behind him, stood in silence as the blood reigned.
“Think its acid? I heard that could turn rain red.” Said the stranger.
“I don’t think so. It tastes like iron, I don’t think that’s what LSD tastes like.” replied Jack.
“No, not LSD, acid, like acidic. Opposite of base?”
“Oh. Well acid tastes sour then; this is irony.”
“Can’t be blood though, can it? That doesn’t make any sense.”
Jack looked at the stranger for the first time. His eyes met the stranger, and he felt his heart skip for a moment. He knew him, but he didn’t know from where. He felt as though he should trust him, though.
“What about this world makes sense?” Asked Jack.
The stranger smiled, “you make sense.”
Jack was confused. What did he mean? Thought Jack. Come to think of it, he makes sense too.
“Come on, Jacks, I’m cold! Let’s go back to my place.” said the stranger.
“Your place?”
“The stairs are broken in yours! Besides, mine’s nicer! We haven’t had a good night together in a while. I want tonight to be good.” said the stranger.
Jack was even more confused. Why did this stranger know about my stairs? Why was he acting like I knew him? Yet perplexingly, Jack trusted the stranger implicitly, as if he had known him all his life. What was his name? Thought Jack.
“Oh, okay.” Said Jack.
The stranger’s face sank, as he sighed, “you don’t remember me again.”
“I feel like I should. I feel like I love you.” Jack said.
The stranger smiled, a smile that warmed Jack’s soul.
“You do know me. And I love you, too, Jack. Now let’s go to my place, I’ll explain more there.” Said the stranger, before he continued, “isn’t blood supposed to be warm? The rain’s cold.”
Jack shrugged. He was right, blood was generally warm.
“What’s your name?” Asked Jack.
“I’m Adam. Nice to meet you again, Jacks.” Said the stranger named Adam.
“Nice to meet you, too. Can you take me to your house? I’m getting cold, and I don’t know how to get there.”
“Gladly, come with me.” Adam held out his hand. Jack took it. It made him feel good to hold Adam’s hand. It was so soft.
As they walked, Jack couldn’t keep his eyes of Adam. The contours of his face, the light stubble on his jaw, his wind-swept hair. The leather of his jacket. His firm, yet soft hands. Those gentle brown eyes of his. His plump lips. He wanted to kiss them. He couldn’t explain his feelings, but looking at Adam was like looking at the part of his life he had been missing all these years. Like it hadn’t been complete until he looked at Adam. Jack didn’t even know he was gay, but when looking at Adam, he realized there was no doubt. He took a peek behind Adam. It was amazing. He blushed at the thought of what was in the front. He had never felt a sexual feeling in all the days he could remember, but in looking at Adam, he felt the sexual desire of 10 life times. But in feeling these urges, they were inseparable from the love that he felt. The sex and the love, intertwined together like Jack had never considered. He realized it wasn’t just the perverse and unnatural sex paired with the gentle and beautiful love, they were one in the same. Adam was all that and more. In that moment, memories came rushing back. A chance encounter in the snow, trips to the supermarket, nights together in bed, passionate embrace, sex, love, life, everything, all in a matter of moments, as if he were facing his death. Only in looking to his right, he saw life instead. A meaning to his existence that he had thus far been unaware of. Or perhaps ignored. Adam wasn’t just some man who he happened to love, this was his man. His love. The time he spent alone now felt all the more lonely, as he realized that those were the days that he didn’t have his Adam. Why don’t I just live with him? Jack thought.
“Why don’t I just live with you?” Jack said, thinking he was only thinking.
“We used to. Then you just vanished one day. And when you came back, you said you had your own place, and I didn’t want to force you back.” Replied Adam.
"I want to live with you again.” Jack said.
“I’m so happy to hear that!” Adam replied, “To be honest, I knew you would say that. You’ve been saying it for days now. I hope you remember this time.”
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” Said Jack.
“Me neither. I’m worried. I’m glad to have you, though. I don’t care what’s wrong with your head, I’m still glad to be here.” Adam said, squeezing Jack’s hand tighter.
“I love you so much. Its all coming back, I’m remembering everything. At least a little bit. Not everything, though. Can we watch a movie?” Jack asked.
“Sure! Which movie do you--”
“No Country for Old Men.” Jack said, cutting him off.
“Oh, sure. That’s not what you usually say. I hope that’s a good sign.”
“What do I usually say?”
“Titanic. It was your sister’s favorite movie.”
I have a sister? Jack thought.
“And what is No Country for Old Men to me?”
“My favorite movie.”
“Oh. Good sign, right? I wanna watch your favorite movie now. Maybe I’m gonna stay this time.”
“I hope so. I’m scared to hope, but I still do.” Adam said, as they approached a slightly-less run down apartment than Jack’s.
“Here we are! Do you remember which unit is ours?”
“No idea.”
“Apartment 12. Let’s go, baby.” Adam said, giving Jack a quick peck on the lips. Jack’s lips itched for more. He bit down, hoping to contain his
desire, yet it roared all the louder.
On the way to the doors of the apartment complex, they passed between two cars, a Jeep and a Ford. The Jeep seemed familiar.
Climbing the steps to his apartment, Jack took note of the smell. Someone had been cooking something. Something sweet. Cookies? He thought. It made sense to him that Adam’s apartment would smell like his childhood home. It occurred to Jack that he shouldn’t know what his childhood home smelled like, he didn’t remember it before a few seconds before it had occurred to him. He saw images of his mother pulling cookies out of the oven, while his sister and he watched, their mouths salivating. There was a man there. He was bald. Jack didn’t recognize him. His memory flashed again, and he was with his mother and his sister, along with his dentist. They were standing at a coffin. Their mother was crying, the dentist’s arms were around her. He seemed almost sad. His sister was sobbing at the coffin. Jack felt like he should be sad, but he couldn’t reach his own feelings, like they were held just out of reach. The scent of cookies in the air from a neighboring apartment. Another memory flashed. Adam was there. He was screaming at Jack’s dentist. Jack’s mother was crying, so was his sister. Adam punched the dentist, before grabbing Jack’s sister and Jack by the hand, and leading them out of the house that had once been home, and into an old Jeep. The same Jeep that sat outside Adam’s apartment. What was my sister’s name? Jack thought.
“Darla.” Said Adam.
“What?” Asked Jack.
“Darla? Your sister’s name is Darla. You just asked.”
“Oh.” Replied Jack, “I thought that was in my head.”
“Maybe it was? Once you’ve been inside someone, maybe you can read their thoughts?” Adam said, before giving a suggestive look to Jack. Jack felt himself get an erection.
Once inside Adam’s apartment, Jack was taken aback by it all. He felt like he was going to faint. Every single thing was exactly where Jack expected it to be. He felt home.
“You okay, Jacks?” Adam asked.
“Yeah its just….I didn’t think this would be home.”
Adam smiled, “Of course this is home, hon.” before he kissed Jack. Jack’s heart sung, keeping to an intense rhythm, like some impromptu Jazz.
“I never want to leave.” Jack said.
“You don’t have to. I’ve told you a thousand times that I make enough for the both of us—I guess you wouldn’t remember, though.” Adam said, solemnly. “And you hate your job.”
“I have a job?” Jack asked. Suddenly his mind flashed images of an office building. Jack was staring at a computer screen while a spreadsheet filled itself out. Once the spreadsheet had been filled automatically, Jack looked over it for errors, correcting them as he went, before saving the spreadsheet and opening another, repeating the cycle again.
“I correct spreadsheets.” Jack said, his sorrow returning for a moment.
“You don’t have to do that. Not anymore, anyway. I get paid a lot more with a PhD. 50,000 dollars a year!”
Jack smiled, “I didn’t know you had a PhD. What’s it in?”
“Computational Neuroscience.”
“What does that mean?”
“I’m a programmer and I work with brains.” Adam laughed.
“Do I have any fancy degrees?” Jack asked.
Adam thought for a moment, before saying “Depending on your view of the term fancy, I guess. You have about 60 credits from a community college! You majored in finance. That’s where we met, in fact!”
“Oh I see. Have I ever thought about going back to school?”
Adam nodded, “we haven’t been able to afford it, though. Finishing your associates would take a year and a half of my salary.”
“Maybe I should get a job, too.” Jack said.
“You have a job, and you hate it. We can live well enough with just mine, don’t worry.”
Jack smiled, “Okay, I can live with that. I don’t think I’m smart enough for a fancy degree, anyway.”
“You’re brilliant, Jacks. Just, maybe not at academics. You should keep drawing, though, maybe your commissions will finally pick up!”
“I draw?” Jack asked, perplexed.
“You do indeed! And very well!” Adam said, as he walked into the living room, grabbing a painting off the wall.
“You did this one here. Its a painting, sure, but you’re also good at drawing!”
The painting was a portrait of Adam and his dog, with a backdrop of a warmly-lit farm. It was in the realist style. It was stunning. It did not feel like Jack’s painting.
“I...I don’t know what to say. I didn’t know any of this..about you, about me….hold me, please.” Jack said, as he began to cry.
“Oh hon, I’ve got you.” Adam said, as he held Jack into his chest. Jack could hear Adam’s heartbeat. It was slower, more methodical. It reminded Jack that he too was alive. Things could be worse.
“Come on, let’s sit on the couch and watch the movie.” Adam said, guiding Jack to the couch.
Sitting down, he was taken aback by the sheer comfort of the couch. Not physical comfort, mind you, the couch was grossly uncomfortable, like nails stabbing into one’s back. Instead, it was emotional, deeply so. The warmth of Adam’s chest extended to the length of a painful couch.
As they sat and watched No Country for Old Men, Jack was surprised to see how depressing the movie was. Maybe that was what Adam saw in him, his depressing nature. Adam was so beautiful, and Jack was not. Yet when Jack looked into Adam’s eyes, the love was palpable. As was the lust, which it seemed was to Adam as it was to Jack: one in the same. The longer the movie went on, the closer Jack was to Adam. By the end of it, it was as though they had meld into a chimera. Before the credits had rolled, in the final scene in which the elderly sherif described his dream, a frantic knock on the door echoed throughout the apartment. Adam got up, and opened the door.
“Adam, thank God, have you seen—Jackie!” said a woman, bursting into the apartment.
“Darla!” Jack said, without thinking.
“You….you remember me. Jackie you remember me!”
“I...I do. And I’m home.”