Zip.
I open it. The water runs loudly; Conner has left the bathroom door open.
There was never a question in my mind about what became of the lens, the glasses, too. I am so predictable, and this is my great disappointment. There is no wonder with me. I always know what Jack’s done and where he’s going, everything ordered.
Except now.
I imagine a time, ten minutes forward.
Measured motion.
The remarkable nothingness.
I swallow. The not knowing thrills me. I feel an excited tickle inside my chest, almost sexual, quietly churning.
One. My hand closes around a white cotton knot of underwear. The lens is inside, perfect, waiting.
Two. My socks. And here are the glasses. You know, the flip flip, Conner.
Here.
The water runs.
I place both gifts on Conner’s pillow and I scratch a note for him on the hotel stationery pad.
These are for you.
I hear Conner cough and gargle in the shower and I remove all of my clothes so I am naked. I do not need anything.
A thick cloth belt from one of the robes in the closet knots and knots again around the shining crossbar. I’m watching Jack’s hands tie it, like they aren’t attached to me.
Strong.
Standing with my eyes against the cool chrome bar, I can judge the perfect height where I tie the loop.
I listen to the shower, the sounds of Conner moving around in there.
Then I hear another sound.
Roll.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
And when I turn around, I see Seth.
“Get the fuck away from me!”
“Jack.”
My knees give and then catch. I cannot feel anything except the knot I hold between my fingers.
“Leave me the fuck alone. I did what I had to do.”
“Jack.”
It is tight. I feel the rope of the belt as I force it through my hair, down over my ears, and I fix my mouth straight because I will not say anything more. I watch the boy who stands beside the wall in front of me, the steam that rolls like the Pope Valley fog out from the open door of the bathroom as the water runs and runs.
“Jack.”
Seth begins hitting his hands into the wall, pounding, but I can’t hear anything over the rush of the water, the roar of the blood in my ears.
Tight.
There.
“Jack.”
And I drop.
“Jack.”
thirty-five
Nothing.
Just nothing.
It was the most beautifully complete thing Jack ever knew.
I floated in black, naked and warm.
Waiting, waiting.
Five seconds more and it would have been over.
Five fucking seconds.
Then I smelled a stale breath of alcohol, and from somewhere very far away, like it was slowly crawling out of a long dark tunnel, I heard Conner’s voice calling, softly at first.
“Fuck! Fuck! What are you doing? What are you fucking doing?”
And he was crying. Conner never cries. He’s never had a reason to.
He was scared, breathing hard.
I could feel his mouth on the side of my neck as he gasped and grunted. With one arm wrapped beneath my armpit, he squeezed me so tightly against his chest, and tried to hold me up off the floor so he could make enough slack to unknot the noose.
Leave me alone, Conner.
When the knots began to come off, the pain spread up and down from where the noose had been tied. It felt like my head was filled with needles, and now they were all rushing down through my neck. I tried to push him away from me, but my arms flopped heavily like soggy mop yarn. Once Conner pulled the noose over my head, he had to catch me as I collapsed, unbound, into him.
Then I was aware of the wetness on his face. Crying, struggling to pull me out of the closet, Conner carried me across the room, and I began to black out again.
Leave me alone.
“What are you thinking, man? What did you do this for? Why? Why?”
Conner shook me with every word, as though his punctuation would snap the life awake inside me.
Then I was down. He laid me on my bed and drunkenly tumbled on top of me. He was heavy and out of breath, dripping from the shower, and he pushed himself up. I felt him lift my feet, pulling the sheets out from the side of the bed so he could cover me. I knew my eyes were open, but everything looked purple and dark, out of focus, like Conner was just a big shadow hovering over me.
“You fucking asshole. Why are you doing this to me?”
He grasped my jaw and shook my face.
It started coming back then. The room began to grow lighter, as though the eye of some great pale sun were opening up above us.
Why couldn’t he just leave me alone?
Five seconds.
Conner had one of his hands on top of my head; his fingers rubbed my hair, and he pressed the side of his face against my chest, listening. And I could feel how his breaths came short and spastic from the crying.
“You better fucking breathe, asshole.”
I inhaled.
“I don’t want to go back.”
My voice was a dry croak.
“I’m sorry, Conner.”
He straightened up, kneeling beside the bed where I lay naked like an unclaimed mortuary cadaver, drained and numb, twisted in the sheets and covers. Conner grabbed my face in his hands and wiped the wetness from my eyes with his thumbs.
I wasn’t even aware that I’d been crying.
Maybe it was something else, because like Conner, Jack doesn’t do that, either.
Then he kissed my forehead.
“You dumb fuck, Jack.”
Conner stood, grunting. He didn’t need to say anything else; I could feel how he seethed with anger, spinning around, looking for something that might give him a clue as to how we’d get out of this now.
This is it, after all.
We are home.
At that moment, I was so sorry for hurting him. I knew it was the worst thing I’d ever done, and I kept thinking about those five goddamned seconds.
It had to have been Seth.
He made Conner find me.
“I’m calling the fucking cops.”
It was like an electric shock. Freddie’s stun gun again. I felt every disconnected muscle in my body contract when he said it.
I tried to sit up. “No. Please don’t do that, Con!”
He paced the floor like an animal in a cage. He stopped at his bed, looked down at the note I’d left. Of course he knew what was inside the two small bundles.
“Is that what it’s about?” he said. He picked up the socks and underwear I’d used to hide the Marbury lenses from everyone. He cocked his arm back like he was going to throw them against the wall.
“Don’t!”
He stopped himself.
Conner knew what would happen if he did it.
He dropped my little gifts to him on the bed.
And then I said it.
“I’d rather die than go back again, Con.”
“I’m calling a fucking ambulance, Jack. I can’t take this shit.”
He went to the desk and picked up the handset for our room’s phone.
“Conner, please don’t do that.”
I swung my feet around onto the floor. I thought I could stand up, try to stop him, but my head pounded so hard it felt like I was going to explode.
Conner inhaled deeply, closed his eyes, and hung up the phone. Then he wheeled a desk chair across the floor and sat down in front of me with his hands clasped between his knees, just watching me, waiting for me to fix things.
“What am I going to do with you?” he said.
“I don’t know.”
He smeared his forearm across his eyes.
“I would die without you, Jack.”
“No, you wouldn’t.”
“You’re full of shit!” Conner’s voice shook. “You’re not the only one who gets hurt in this world! You’re not the only one who fucks things up and then has to fix them! Stop being so goddamned selfish for once!”
He was right.
“I … Shit, Conner.”
He exhaled and loosened his shoulders, slumped back in the chair. “Dude, if you want to stay, I’ll stay with you.”