by Pat Henshaw
We sat down, and I told him I couldn’t do it anymore. Then I left, taking nothing with me and leaving him with a few thousand dollars in our bank account to get himself clean. I couldn’t watch another round. He’d been skin and bones, red-eyed. I was sure he was on the brink of death. I couldn’t stand by and watch him sink any lower. I’d bailed.
“What did he want?” Jimmy asked, bringing me back to the here and now.
I looked down at the table and saw the envelope. “This. He gave me this. Then he….” I couldn’t go on. I was about to start crying again. I felt Stone run his fingers over the back of my hand. Stone’s baleful look cried for my tears. “He told me he was sorry.”
4
JIMMY PICKED up the envelope.
“You didn’t open it?” His question broke the tension between me and Stone. “Don’t you want to know what’s in it?”
“It’s a check,” I whispered. “I know what’s in it. It’s his payback for everything he thinks he stole from me.” I didn’t add that there wasn’t a check large enough to cover the cost of a broken heart.
“For how much?” Jimmy asked.
“Does it matter?” I countered.
Jimmy shrugged and Stone glared at him.
“That’s it? A check?” Jimmy was holding the fat envelope and waving it in front of me. “Feels like a lot of paper for only a check.”
Stone’s glare turned deadly, but Jimmy ignored him.
“No. He said something about a decision I had to make.” I tried to bat the envelope away, but he moved it so it evaded my hand.
“You should open it, huh?” he asked mildly.
Stone grabbed the envelope and slammed it on the table. “The man isn’t interested, babe!” he yelled at Jimmy.
Jimmy smiled and picked at the cinnamon roll.
“Sure he is,” he countered. “He wants to know what’s inside the envelope.” He took a breath and leaned back. “I’m getting him more coffee, and you’re persuading him to open it and find out what decision he needs to make.”
Jimmy got up and touched Stone’s back. Jimmy leaned over and planted a kiss on Stone’s bald head. “We gotta get this guy moved by tonight, remember.”
While I was puzzling over what he’d meant about me moving, Stone shook his head, a tiny smile puckering his lips. He picked up the envelope.
“He’s fucking right, you know. You need to open this and find out what else Jason wants.”
I nodded and took it from him.
I tore the end off the envelope and slid out a check and some sheets of paper. The cashier’s check was made out to me for five hundred thousand dollars. Too much and too little. I handed Stone the check and slowly opened the three pages.
Thanks for giving me a chance to explain what happened. You left. It was the smartest thing you’ve ever done for me. I needed it. I was hanging on by a thread and expecting you to knit me back together while I teetered between getting clean and getting high.
When you left, I felt like my heart had been ripped out of my chest. I spent a couple of days feeling sorry for myself and cursing you. Then one day I saw myself in a store window while I was panhandling tourists.
Who the hell was the bum? I had a complete and thorough breakdown right there on the sidewalk. The cops picked me up and brought me in when I started taking off my clothes and apologizing to people for being so filthy and wasted.
The cops asked if I wanted to go into rehab. It was a no-brainer. Probably because I didn’t have a brain by then. I didn’t have you to bail me out. Anyway, I cleaned up in a state facility. I buried the old Jason and walked away from the loser. I didn’t want to have anything to do with him.
Well, it doesn’t work like that exactly. I craved drugs so bad sometimes I all but gnawed my arms off pushing the cravings away. I was working as a janitor for a software company, a placement I got because of you, actually. One of the execs recognized me as the “best friend” of the greatest chef to cook in the Bay Area. His words, but my belief too.
Anyway, there’s a diversionary technique they teach you in the rehab center that was working for me—when I remembered to do it. You wear a rubber band around your wrist and when the cravings start, you snap the rubber band. Easy, right? Only I kept forgetting.
The company made apps for smartphones, so I asked the exec, who kept bugging me about you and your recipes, to make me an app for the phone I’d been given. I wanted him to make me an alarm to randomly ring and buzz. Something that would go off when I least expected it and make me worry about when it would go off instead of thinking about the cravings, which also came at crazy times.
We started there and his app seemed to be working. But I figured if there was some kind of gyroscope or something in it to recognize when I started shaking and then sound the alarm, it would be better.
Okay, long story short—the app worked and the guy’s selling it to places like high-end rehab facilities and state agencies. It’s being used for all kinds of behavior modification.
So how’d I make money off it, you’re asking. Well, the exec, who’s now worth in the billion-dollar range, figures he’d never have come up with it if it hadn’t been for me. He gave me rights to a quarter of the sales for life. Bet you never thought I’d live through rehab and help create a phone app and become a millionaire, did you? Me neither.
Anyway, there’s a lot more to the story after I started making money, but I’ll save it for later if you maybe decide you want to be friends with the new David Jason Fairbanks.
Okay, I know you don’t want the money and have a lot of your own. But I have to give this to you. I have to. So I’ve figured out what I think you should do with it. I’ve enclosed a list of LGBTQ support groups that I got off the web.
I want you to pick one or all of them and distribute the money in your name. Or if you’re suddenly feeling nostalgic about the late, unlamented Jason Fuck Up, you can do it in both our names. Since we took so much grief in school, I figure it’d be best if we try to help someone else—a lot of someone elses.
Anyway, it’s a suggestion. Do whatever you want. Just think, though. It’s a lot of money and it could do a lot of good.
You’re my first and only love. I’ll love you until I stop breathing, and even then I’ll love you to the end of time.
Formerly Your Pretty Boy
FUCK.
Dammit, Pretty Boy. I was right back where I’d been when Stone and Jimmy arrived. Tears were coursing down my cheeks, and Stone had me in a death hug. Jimmy was rubbing my back and making “Shhh” sounds.
Shit.
I didn’t want to love him. I didn’t want to like him. He was dead. I had to get over this. I had to. I’d go crazy otherwise.
5
JIMMY TOOK the letter, check, and list of support groups out of my hand and folded them back into the envelope as Stone hugged me one more time.
“We can talk about this in town. Right now, we gotta get you moved.”
“What? I can’t go anywhere. Everybody’s coming up here for dinner tonight,” I protested as I mopped up my cheeks and eyes.
“No, actually, nobody’s coming up here tonight. We’ll eat in town. The forecasters say there’s a huge storm building, and it’ll hit in the late afternoon,” Stone explained. “The ski operators are ecstatic. From the way they’re talking about this, it’ll be the fucking storm of the century.”
I looked around the kitchen, at the soup simmering away, at the piles of refuse in the trash bins. We couldn’t get this place winterized and closed up in a few hours. What about the food? The group tonight?
As if he’d heard my protest, Stone went on, “I brought the truck. Why don’t you and Jimmy go pack some of your clothes and other stuff? You’ll be staying with us until the storm passes.”
He stood before I could dig in and tell him I wasn’t going.
“I’ll take care of the soup and the perishables.” Stone gestured around the kitchen. “I brought some of my big coolers. I’ll pack as
much as our trucks can carry. The rest of the stuff’ll be okay until you can get back up here and do a better job of winterizing and closing up later.”
“But the soup….”
“I’ll cover it and put it in the truck as is. You can keep cooking it when we get to town. I’m thinking tonight’s a good night to break in your new kitchen. I’ll bring the booze.”
I stood, staring at them. I was going to move in with them? I had an apartment above the vacant Main Street restaurant. I could stay there if I had a bed and some furniture. And what about Jason? I couldn’t leave Jason, could I?
“Do you know where he’s staying?” Stone asked, again reading my mind. Or maybe I was talking out loud. I couldn’t tell anymore.
“C’mon,” Jimmy muttered. “You better come with me, or I’ll pack a bunch of stuff you don’t even want.”
Jimmy was going to go through my clothes? He’d find all the laundry I hadn’t done for weeks. Shit.
THE PACKING, moving, and dinner went by in a blur. LJ and I cooked something, served it, and heard my friends rave about it. Connor provided dessert, and Jimmy and Stone served drinks. The new restaurant looked a little raw in its unfinished state, but the kitchen was a dream space. Even LJ loved it.
I remembered asking LJ if he had somewhere to stay, and he assured me he did. In fact, he told me shyly, he’d bought a house in town. I think I wished him good luck.
Later, in Jimmy and Stone’s guest bedroom, I watched the snowflakes falling outside. Stone Acres wasn’t supposed to get the snowfall the mountains would, so it all looked benign, not anything to worry about.
I was grateful for such good friends. They’d blunted the shock of the morning, and even though I wasn’t a hundred percent myself still, I wasn’t crying. I figured it was a win.
THE MORNING after a big snowfall, the world looked new, reborn, and even the hardest-core cynic would have to admit a certain joy in waking up to a clean slate. Sure, the snow would look like crap in a few days, especially the snow from the beginning of the season since it usually melted fast and turned into muddy slush. But for a few minutes as I peered out of Stone’s window, I felt like I was starting over and my life had been scrubbed clean.
For the first time in five years, I woke up knowing that not only had I not killed my best friend and lover, but he’d flourished and hadn’t forgotten me nor held a grudge. I felt like finally a first layer of snow had fallen on my life to cool and cover some of my wounds.
As I really woke up and shook off my morning haze, I realized how much I had to do. Last night someone had brought in temporary knock-down tables and folding chairs, so I had to find Fredi Zimmer and go buy new furniture. The tables and chairs from the Bistro dining room would look like shit in town.
I also had to outfit the new kitchen, which meant a trip to the restaurant supply house. Most importantly, I had to make a menu plan. Was I bringing the Bistro down the mountain or was I going to do something completely different?
As I thought about everything I needed to do, I got excited. Setting up a new place felt like starting a new life. I was energized to get going.
My cell rang as I wandered into Stone and Jimmy’s kitchen. I answered it while I was reading Stone’s cryptic note. If it’s edible, eat it. See you tonight. I was startled when Jason started talking.
“Hey! Morning! You want to get a cup of coffee?” He sounded like I’d felt moments before. Now I wasn’t so sure I was up for anything at all. I reminded myself he was doing fine, and so was I.
“How’d you get this number?” I barked at him, but my heart and soul perked up. Jason wasn’t a dream, but a reality. Could I act like we’d taken a breather and were getting back together again? My dick hoped so.
There was a short pause while I heard him softly yelp, then take a quick breath. He chuckled, but it sounded uneasy.
“I work with people in the computer industry,” he reminded me. “They know how to find out stuff. Bryan gave me your number. I don’t know how he found it.”
“Bryan?”
“The guy who I worked for in San Jose. The guy who came up with GetReal.”
“Get real?”
“The app for behavior mod, uh, modification.” I heard him take another breath. “We don’t have to do twenty questions over the phone. We could sit down and talk. Pretend I’m someone exciting you just met. You know, get to know each other. No rules, no promises. Coffee and talk, that’s all.”
In my mind’s eye, I saw the high school version of Pretty Boy. He couldn’t stand still and jumped from foot to foot talking, his hands moving almost as quickly as his mouth. I shut my eyes tightly and counted to five, then to ten. Teenage Jason vanished. In his place stood the man I’d seen yesterday, a man who physically resembled teen god Jason, but with less joy shining from him.
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea—” Because he was too tempting and I was too starved.
Before I could finish, he broke in. “Adam, I’m not the me I was. I’m a totally different person. You may not even like the new me. You might think I’m a jerk. I might not like you either. But at least give us a chance to figure it out. No pressure.”
I answered him with silence. I had to talk to Stone about this. I was too confused.
“I’ll get back to you. I have to think about it.” I didn’t say I’d never meet with him, but that might be the option I’d choose. I had to see Stone.
“Yes,” Jason breathed softly. “Okay, then I’ll wait for your call. Thanks for at least considering it. I get it’s a big step.”
I GAVE Stone a call on his cell and he agreed to meet at Jimmy’s coffee shop as soon as I could get there. He offered to pick me up because the roads were so snowy and slick, but I wanted to walk the six blocks from his place to Old Town. I needed the space to get myself together and figure out how I felt about Jason. I also wanted to savor the first snow of the season.
The overcast sky threatened to dump more white stuff on us, and the air smelled of the recent storm mingled with the changing leaves. I realized after about a block that I hadn’t worn my boots for at least five or six months. They felt tight and uncomfortable after my clogs, my toes pushing together unhappily. But the nippy air and heady smell of imminent fall hushed my complaining feet enough that I strode toward the center of town feeling strong.
When I entered, I noticed Penny’s Too Coffee Stop wasn’t busy, which was nice for a confidential chat but disappointing for Jimmy since so few customers equaled not much profit. Unlike me, Jimmy was supporting himself with this place. I could take or leave cooking anytime I wanted.
Dressed for the weather in a leather duster and fisherman’s sweater with jeans, Stone clapped me on the back. “C’mon this way.”
I followed him behind the service counter, through a storage area, and up some stairs. A huge unfinished loft opened up at the end of the steep steps. The rafters, conduits, and well-worn brick walls gave the space a warm, inviting ambience that people in the Bay Area would kill for.
Stone led me down the loft to a couple of old armchairs, a ratty-looking couch, and a couple of straight wooden dining chairs with arms, all clumped around an electrical spool table. Stone plopped down in one of the armchairs and propped his feet on the spool.
“So what’s up?” he asked.
Before I answered, I heard someone climbing the stairs. A head of copper curls and then the torso of a young woman rose from the opening in the floor. She was carrying a tray with mugs, a huge carafe, sugar, creamer, and plates with scones. She set it all on the table, moving Stone’s boots out of the way without a word. With a final flourish, she took out a stack of napkins from her apron pocket and slapped them on the table.
“Thanks, Steph!” Stone called after her.
She didn’t stop walking toward the stairs, but gave him an over-the-shoulder wave that shouted “Whatever” loud and clear.
“Have a seat.” Stone gestured to the seating area. I ambled over and sat in the other armchair
. It was surprisingly comfortable considering how battered it was.
“So what’s up?” Stone repeated as we both poured coffee and sank back. Stone swiveled and put his feet on the couch. He had to turn his head to see me.
“What do you think?” I asked. “It’s Jason, of course. He called me this morning.”
Stone straightened slightly, letting his feet fall to the floor.
“Look. If you want me to talk to him….”
“No. Not really. I just need you to help me figure out what to do.”
We both settled back, and I explained my ambivalence. On the one hand, Jason as a changed man intrigued me. I was fascinated not only that he survived, but also that he’d thrived. He was like a weed, someone who seemed to grow and flourish with very little water and love. He wanted me to get to know the new Jason, and in a way the prospect interested me. I wanted to believe. I wanted my old dreams to come true.
On the other hand, I was scared shitless. Could I afford to get close to Jason, then find out he hadn’t changed and was still an addict? None of the groups promising to change addictive behavior had very good long-term track records. I couldn’t say offhand how many people totally kicked the habit and stayed clean, but I knew it wasn’t anywhere near 50 percent. What if I got dragged in again? Would I be able to get out? Would I be able to recover this time?
Stone was silent when I finished sharing my cesspool of thoughts. He finally put down his mug and sat up, putting his elbows on his knees.
“Okay, look. Here’s the way I see it. You want advice, right?” I nodded. “So what it boils down to is you want to do this, but you’re scared of freefalling.” He peered at me, and I nodded again.