If the Stars Fall

by Diane Adams

  "For anything." He turned and walked into their bedroom, leaving Jared alone with only the whisper of the snow against the window for company.

  Only For You

  Alex drove with care through the heavy snowfall, unwilling to end up back in the hospital for something as stupid as reckless driving. Being alone in the car, the sounds of the world muffled by snow, gave him a sense of freedom he hadn't enjoyed in a year. He hadn't gone anywhere without Jared for a chauffeur since before the fire. There'd been no downtime in the hospital, and more recently his self-enforced isolation kept him trapped in the apartment. Alex knew he worried Jared and he didn't mean to, but couldn't find the energy to do anything about it.

  The longing to seek sanctuary in Jared's arms sometimes turned into a physical ache, a pain so sharp it pierced him to the core. A year ago he wouldn't have hesitated. He'd have buried himself in Jared's embrace, let him soothe away the fear and pain, and depended on his strength to see them through. Alex hadn't felt free to let Jared comfort him since the earliest days after the fire. It had been a little easier in the beginning despite the pain of his burns, because Jared had let him assume the fire had been contained and their home still stood. Guilt consumed Alex once he learned the truth: the house had been gutted by the explosion and the resulting inferno.

  There had never been a word of blame from Jared, not that he expected one. It would have been un-Jared-like for him to say something, but Alex's careless actions had caused the fire. It hadn't been anything as simple, or straightforward, as getting a dishtowel too close to the burner. He wished it had been an accident, an accident that could be explained and forgiven, instead of the fault lying with his lazy negligence.

  He braked, slowing the car carefully. Snow fell harder, the wind driving it into the windshield, worsening visibility. Fortunately traffic remained light, most people having the good sense to stay home. Alex wondered if Jared had called off work due to the weather. If he had gone home, Alex hoped he didn't jump to some stupid conclusion. Alex needed time to think, not a divorce. Leave Jared. Fat chance. The guy couldn't get that lucky. Nope, Jared was stuck with a guilt-ridden, depressed boyfriend who currently had a closer resemblance to Frankenstein's monster than the semi-hot guy Jared had fallen for.

  A man who couldn't be bothered to do something as simple as calling someone to repair the stove, and as a result, blew up their house and destroyed their lives. No matter what Jared wanted to pretend, everything they'd worked for lay in ruins around them. His insistence Alex design another house felt like returning to square one. They were supposed to be moving forward, and he couldn’t see how retracing their steps would take them into the future. Redesign, rebuild, and reorganize. Thank God he didn't have to reeducate himself. Through it all, Jared ignored his own dreams to make sure Alex's came true. He wished Jared would do something for himself, put what he wanted ahead of everything else for once.

  Ahead of me.

  Alex snorted. Oh yeah, that'd be happening any second. Frowning, he peered more intently through the snowy windshield. The landmarks were all wrong and he realized he'd passed his turn.

  "Damn." Finding a safe place to U-turn in the bad weather proved easier said than done. Several miles down the road a wide driveway appeared on the right. Alex slowed and turned into it. He noticed a blue and white For Sale sign and, curious, followed the curve of the long drive around to where it stopped in front of a huge, dilapidated two-story residence.

  The front porch ran the full width of the front of the house, the roof supported by tall white pillars. Balconies hung outside each of the four upstairs windows. The shingles were mostly obscured by snow, but Alex didn't see any obvious dips in the drift clinging to the slate roofing tiles to indicate a problem. Without stopping to think, he climbed out of the car and walked carefully up the front steps, leery of weak boards and the ice. The steps held, but disappointingly the front door had been locked against intrusion. Alex laughed at himself. Of course it was locked. He tried to peek in a window but the dirty, frosty glass proved as effective as heavy drapes at keeping him from seeing inside.

  Alex walked the length of the porch and peered around the corner and discovered he couldn't see much through the snow. With a shrug he jumped down, sinking several inches into the cold white powder. Ignoring it, he trudged around to the rear of the house. The back porch turned out to be nothing more than a set of concrete steps directly outside the backdoor, protected by a small overhang. The yard stretched out behind it, a picturesque landscape of snow unmarred by a single footprint. Rising majestically from it, far too close to the house, stood the biggest oak tree Alex had ever seen. Awed, he stared up into the leafless branches turned into a fairyland by ice and snow. He walked out and stood under it, gazing up the old house, and for the first time in months felt a flutter of interest in something.

  The cold soon forced Alex back to his car. The scars on his face and hand ached and his legs felt tired, reminding him he hadn't regained his full health yet. On his way back down the driveway, he stopped beside the sign to copy the phone number. He looked back at the house barely visible through the thickly falling snow, and for a second time felt a stirring of returning life. The feeling baffled him. He'd never had any interest in old houses beyond their design. Old houses were Jared's thing. With a tremulous smile Alex turned his attention back to driving.

  The house slipped to the back of his mind when Alex recognized the turn to his original destination. He had a brief flash of doubt about the wisdom of what he was doing, but turned down the road out of habit before he had time to second-guess himself. The familiarity of the landmarks, even covered in snow, captured his attention and he lost himself in memories. The first time he had ridden down the road had been spring during his senior year at MIT. He had come home to see the property Jared had found to build their house. It was the perfect piece of land with plenty of trees, including a huge old oak standing in their backyard-to-be.

  Alex approved the property and they built their house the summer he graduated. He smiled sadly with the recollection. They seemed so young in retrospect. They'd fit working on their home in with Alex's fledgling career, expanding Jared's business, and learning to live together without a separation—which had been a hallmark of their early years—looming on the horizon. Somehow they not only managed, but excelled at everything.

  He pulled the car off the side of the road and stared at the empty plot of land where his home had sat not so long ago. The outbuildings remained. Jared's workshop and all his tools were safe. Their storage building stood beside it, filled with boxes of belongings exiled from the main house, Christmas decorations, and the riding lawnmower. In the yard, between the buildings and the empty foundation, the old oak reached for the sky. Its branches still spread wide, but those nearest the house bore damage from the fire. Black marks scorched the bark. There hadn't been any lights decorating its branches at Christmas and never would be again. Alex's heart ached. He couldn't decide if the snow made the scene more or less lonely.

  Jared had bulldozed the remains of their home, unwilling to let anyone else touch the ruin of their dream. Alex rarely let himself dwell on that fact, the idea of Jared forced to finish the destruction of something he loved so much was more than he could handle. Nothing but the sunken foundation remained. Any scars from the disaster were disguised by the snow, much as the new skin harvested from his own body disguised his burns.

  Alex flexed his gloved hand. While he still lacked full mobility of his fingers, he'd come a long way from hardly being able to close it. Then there was his face. He took a deep breath. Remembering his appearance during the procedure leading up to his final grafts made his stomach turn. He didn't know how Jared had been able to look at him, burned to a crisp on one side and face swollen beyond recognition on the other.

  Jared had never flinched, as if the deformities had the same normalcy as watching a lover age. Jared's love handles and the slight gray at his temples made Alex love him more. Having a burne
d up, sliced up, stitched up face didn't come close to being the same thing. Doubt about his own ability to provide such unflagging devotion plagued him. When Alex looked his worst, unable to face his own reflection, Jared still wanted him, tried to kiss him, and wanted to make love. Repulsed by himself, he'd turned away, unable to accept the balm of Jared's affection, and hadn't yet found the strength to turn back to him.

  Mind spinning, Alex got out of the car and walked across what had once been their front yard. He went in where the front door would have been if it still existed. Painted hunter-green, it had matched their shutters. It had led into an entry room which opened into the living room to the left. Alex went right, straight to where their bedroom had been, and there, oblivious to the snow, he sat where their king-sized bed had stood. It didn’t matter how much the snow changed the appearance of things, he knew the dimensions of their home intimately.

  "I miss you, house." Alex missed the simplicity of their lives and his ruined confidence. His phone rang. "Damn it, Jared, you can't give me five minutes?" His conscience poked him. He'd been gone a lot longer than five minutes. He fished his phone out with clumsy, gloved fingers. Clark's name on the screen instead of Jared's surprised him. He tugged his glove off with his teeth and poked the screen. "Clark?"

  "Hey, where are you, man? Stevie and I were going to drop by, but when I called Jared said you weren't home."

  Alex hunched his shoulders under his coat. "Out."

  "That's all? Just 'out'." Clark paused and Alex knew his friend well enough to know Clark needed a second to keep from losing his temper. "Jared said we need to give you more time. You haven't seen anyone but him for weeks, how much time do you need?"

  "I need as much time as it takes."

  "Takes to what, Alex? Where are you, did you leave? Jared sounded like maybe you did." Clark's voice reflected his frustration with trying to keep his patience.

  Jared, you idiot.

  Alex stared out over the empty place they'd once called home. His throat tightened and he fought back tears. "However long it takes for me to come to terms with what happened. What I did."

  "What you did? Alex, are you losing it? You didn't do anything."

  "It was my fault. Everyone knows it, whether they admit it or not. I know it. Five minutes to make one phone call and none of this would have happened." Alex choked up and he clamped his mouth shut, unwilling to cry on the phone to Clark.

  "Okay, you have lost it." Clark sounded exasperated. Alex imagined him rolling his eyes. "No one blames you. We've all put off doing stuff. You didn't blow up your house. For all you know, if you'd called the guy he'd have been blown away with the house. Your procrastination may have saved a life. That makes you a hero."

  "I'm no hero. Jared wouldn't say it was my fault if I'd poured gasoline over everything we owned and lit the match." Alex dug his right hand into the snow.

  The cold seeped through the weatherproofed leather, chilling his skin and made his hand ache. He focused on the isolated physical discomfort, finding the external pain easier to deal with.

  "For Christ's sake, Alex, get over it. You haven't let anyone visit—Jared thinks you're sensitive about how you look. Personally, I think he's the only one you want around because you're being an asshole, and no one else will put up with your crap." He paused, but Alex remained silent. "And I know you're being a jerk, because I know you. You've had a year to come to terms with what happened. It's time to stop wallowing in self-pity, pull your head out of your ass, and take a look at what you're doing to the people who love you."

  "Yeah, Clark. I get it. Sorry I wasn't home, but I have to go." He turned off his phone and slid it into his coat pocket. He pulled his knees up against his chest, wrapping his arms around his legs. Alex stared at nothing as night fell and he lost all track of time.

  "Time to go."

  The quiet of Jared's voice broke the silence.

  Alex looked up with a start. He didn't protest when Jared manhandled him to his feet and guided him to the warm interior of his truck. He hadn't realized how cold he was until the warm air hit his chilled skin. He gasped and turned away from the direct flow of air out of the vent. His jeans were soaked through and felt like ice against his skin as warmth seeped back into his body. Alex shook so hard his teeth chattered. Jared turned up the heat and took the blanket from behind the seat to wrap around him, before pulling the truck out of the yard and onto the snow-covered road.

  He watched Jared but he kept his attention on driving. Eyes fixed on the windshield, he shifted gears. The engine grumbled, working harder in four-wheel drive. The heavy vehicle showed no sign of sliding on the slick surface.

  "Do you want to die?"

  Eyes sliding closed, Alex rested his forehead on the passenger window and considered Jared's words. His face and hand ached, his skin burned from the cold, and inside he felt as if someone had run him through a shredder. He wondered when being alive started hurting so much. The darkness beckoned him to take refuge there, to continue to buffer himself with the façade of not caring. Alex longed for something, an endless dark—quiet, free from pain and fear. He struggled to remember something, anything at all, worth the effort living took.

  Pulling off his remaining glove, Alex fisted his hand around the small scrap of paper he had tucked inside to nestle in his palm before leaving home. The fragile note crumpled in his grasp. He'd found it in his pocket that morning. He hadn't read it, hadn't known if he wanted to know what it said. Now he smoothed it with numb fingers and fumbled it open.

  Two words written in Jared's precise hand.

  Don't go.

  The knot of emotion making life difficult for Alex to navigate since he'd left the hospital eased a little.

  Do you want to die? Jared's question echoed in his mind.

  "No." His whisper misted the glass.

  "Okay."

  And it was enough.

  How Did Life Get So Rough

  One week later Alex slapped the lid of his laptop closed.

  "Damn it!" He jumped to his feet, frustration carrying him through the apartment and back to stand staring at the dark top of the computer. The matte gray cover looked innocent, but it mocked his inability to come up with a single design. Ideas for a new house teased the edge of his mind, but slipped through his fingers when he tried to capture them. Alex turned away, searching for another focus for his nervous, pent-up energy, determined not to succumb to the depression still dogging his heels. Hands tucked into the back pockets of his jeans, he surveyed the bare walls of the apartment as if seeing them for the first time.

  "This place looks like crap." He didn't bother to go look at the bedroom.

  Nothing in there except more empty walls and very few personal possessions. He thought about going to lie down and taking a nap. Maybe he'd dream up something to start drawing. Pushing his way through the false exhaustion, which he'd come to recognize as a symptom of his emotional distress, Alex's gaze fell on the memory boxes stacked against the wall.

  He lifted Jared's from the top and despite having been given permission to look inside whenever he wanted, he set the box aside. He didn't open the less skillfully crafted box either, though his fingers lingered on the gleaming wood, the memory of building his memory box with Jared fresh in his mind.

  Alex wondered where the years had gone. He knelt on the floor and fingered the cardboard flaps of the bottom box. He didn't know where Jared found the oddly shaped box. A little less than a foot deep, it was wide enough to hold his biggest drawings without folding them. Uncertainty kept him from opening the lid. He didn't remember everything he stored in the box, but knew there were a lot of unrealized dreams.

  "Stop being such a big baby." Alex drew a deep breath and lifted the lid. Inside, a detailed drawing of a skyscraper lay on top. Black lines on white paper, one of Jared's favorites. Once Alex dreamed of designing such a building, instead he drew plans for apartment complexes, the occasional small bank or local government building, and homes for couples drea
ming of the future. Work he enjoyed but rarely challenged him. When Alex graduated from MIT at the top of his class, he'd had an offer from the best architectural firm in the country. He'd come home to Jared, plighted his troth with JD Construction, and never looked back. He set the drawing to one side with a slight smile and no regret.

  Under the picture Alex found something he'd forgotten. He lifted the few sketches out and thumbed through them. Jared had little talent for drawing, though he could rough out a plan for remodeling or an addition with enough skill to get the job done. Alex loved it when Jared got so caught up in the idea for a project he didn't stop to think about his lack of talent. The sheaf of papers in his hands were pictures of Jared's carpentry projects, their dining room table, the chairs, their bed, Kels' crib, and Stevie's rocking chair. Alex sat on the floor cross-legged and studied the drawings.

  Jared shared Alex's love for creating something from nothing. Alex did it in his mind and on paper, envisioning what could be and leaving others to make the idea into reality. Jared did it with his hands, shaping wood to fit his vision in ways that amazed Alex. An idea began to form in his head despite his initial attempts to shrug it away. JD Construction had been their life, their livelihood from the beginning, but the business Jared inherited from his father had never been the first love of either Jared or himself.

  Heart pounding, he set Jared's drawings aside, not daring to follow where his mind wanted to take him. He took out a few more papers, more skyscrapers. He wondered briefly when he'd had so much free time. He found a forgotten sketch pad under them and lifted it out. He flipped through the pages, finding half of them empty. A cheap thing he'd picked up at a drugstore, the pages were yellowing but the blank ones pulled at him with a siren's call. Alex hadn't drawn by hand in years. He stared at the page, his mind jumbled with images of computer design and carpentry tools. He fumbled around the bottom edges of the box until he found the pencil he knew had to be there; once he'd always had a pencil at hand. Opening the spiral-bound pad, Alex folded it over on itself to a blank page and, bottom lip caught between his teeth, began to draw.