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  He wiped down the residue of the beer with some vinegar and water to make sure the marble floor didn’t become sticky.

  Taking out another bottle, he set it next to his own on the counter and called out, “You want a glass for your beer?”

  “Bottle’s fine.” The room fell silent for a second, and then the sweet voice of Eva Cassidy began singing “Songbird.”

  Robert stopped to listen to the lilting voice and the clear melody. For just a moment, he allowed it to take him away from the manic-depressive insanity this evening was promising. He closed his eyes and hummed until it occurred to him that Keith, like Jess, would have preferred a bottle over a glass, too. Big deal. That’s not exactly eerie. Robert took the two bottles of Stella out to the living room and handed one to Jess.

  “Hungry? I could slice some cheese and pull out some water crackers. I’ve got pistachios and really good grapes.”

  Jess looked up at him. “Just sit down and relax, Robert. I can wait for dinner. The beer’s fine.” She took a swig and looked up at the ceiling, where a thumping bass was coming through—muffled but audible, nonetheless. “Sounds like you and your friend don’t really like the same music.”

  “We don’t like a lot of the same things. In fact, we’re not much alike at all.”

  Jess nodded. “Sometimes, opposites attract. Ramona was very different from me—older, a professional with no involvement in the arts at all. But God, I loved that woman.”

  “I know. Keith and I were very different in a lot of ways. But I could understand his creativity…and Lord, he was sexy.” Robert gulped down some beer. “At least to start off.”

  Jess grabbed his hand. “It must have been hard.”

  “Oh, it was. But it was also a joy to be there to take care of him. It almost seemed like some sort of cosmic thing that we met when we did, because I’m not sure who would have been there for him during his final months if he hadn’t met me. It was a role I sometimes wonder if I was fated to play.” Robert took another swig. “I’m so glad I was there to see him off, even if it was hell, pure hell.” He looked up, caught Jess’s eye, and smiled, even though he knew his own eyes were shiny with tears.

  “You believe in fate?” Jess asked.

  “I do. What else can explain why you chose that spot on the shoreline, just east of my building?”

  Jess put down her bottle and stared out at the black night. “I keep wondering, trying to go back and remember. I can only come up with the fact that I just had urges, compulsions: get off the train at Belmont, walk east, walk south…and then I was at a spot that just seemed—I don’t know—right.”

  “Did you really believe you were going to kill yourself?”

  Jess nodded. “I had every intention. When I left the apartment, I didn’t even close the door behind me.”

  Robert patted a place next to him on the couch. Jess rose and settled herself beside him, close, so their bodies touched.

  He slid his arm around her. “No other feelings? Just a desire to end it all?”

  Jess let her head fall on Robert’s shoulder. “I guess so.” She let out a soft little laugh. “All for the love of a woman.” She picked up Robert’s hand and wrapped his other arm around her front, so he was holding her.

  Robert thought it felt good, this closeness, natural. He bent down and kissed the top of Jess’s head. The hair was silky and smelled clean; he wondered how she got it to stand on end like it did.

  “Why didn’t you just do it, then?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Why didn’t you just climb up on the rocks and jump in? What were you waiting for?”

  “At the time, it didn’t feel like I was waiting for anything, but looking back now, I wonder what made me sit there for so long. I mean, I must have been there for a half hour, maybe more, before you came along, my knees drawn up to my chest and shivering.”

  “You were waiting for me.”

  “Ah, I suppose that’s where fate comes into it.”

  “Yes, and salvation.” Robert hoped he wasn’t sounding hokey. “But salvation for whom?”

  Jess settled in, her back pressing against Robert’s chest. “Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it? You were saving me.”

  “That’s for sure.” Robert paused to look up at the ceiling; Ethan’s bedroom was directly above them. “But I wonder if you didn’t come along to save me, too.”

  And Robert started talking, telling her all about Ethan. How he had never loved the younger man, but thought that because Ethan was young and handsome and full of life, he could take away the loneliness. Robert told Jess how Ethan began withdrawing, in little bits at first, making up excuses for absences, then disappearing for longer and longer periods—sometimes days—without even the pretense of an excuse.

  “I thought maybe he would come around Christmas Day. Christmas has always been special for me. I was kidding myself, as usual, but I made us a big meal. Bought him lots of presents, even though I knew by then, he was far out of my reach.” Robert laughed, but it was bitter. He took a sip of his beer and stroked Jess’s arm. “He even reverted back to his earlier behavior—maybe as a Christmas present to me—making up a story about visiting his aunt. It was no comfort. I just felt like an old fool.

  “He thinks I don’t know. He thinks I’m unaware that he’s cheating on me and using drugs.”

  “You wanna dump him?”

  “You put things right on the table, don’t you, Jess?”

  “Not always. But I know when I should.”

  “I guess the point of all this is going back to what we talked about earlier: who was saving whom. I wonder if you—or maybe Keith—weren’t put in my way by fate, or something, to help me get out of this really unhealthy relationship.”

  Jess sat up. “You think he’s using right now? Right under our noses? That’s why he won’t come downstairs?” She leaned forward, shrugging Robert’s arms off her body. “Because if that’s the case, I have no problem marching right up there and kicking his drug-abusing ass out for you.” She smiled at him, yet there was fire in her eyes. “That would be my Christmas present to you…a return of the favor.”

  Robert shook his head. “Keith was just like you, always looking out for me.” He leaned back, letting his head rest against the back of the couch. “There was this one time, early on, when my roommate came storming to the condo. He was mad because I had stuck him with the remainder of the lease with no notice when I moved in with Keith. We let him come up here, and the kid was raving. God, I can’t even remember his name, now. But anyway, he was threatening to take me to small claims court and all this other stuff.

  “And then, Keith, with an effortless calm, just walked up to the kid and took him gently by the shoulders. He looked him right in the eye and smiled. That took him by surprise and the kid shut up. Keith said, ‘How much do you need?’ The kid told him what my half of the rent was and how we still had seven more months left on the lease. Keith just glanced up at the ceiling, calculating. The kid probably thought the sum was astronomical. Keith told him, “I’ll write you a check. No one wants to worry about finding a roommate in the middle of winter.”

  Robert glanced over at Jess. “It wasn’t just bailing me out financially. He stood up to my family. And he stood up to his own family, especially when they tried to interfere when they realized he was dying. They had ignored him for years, but once the scent of money was in the air, I was suddenly a gold digger and it was then they wanted to play nursemaid. But it was too late.” Robert looked Jess in the eye. “And that’s just what he told them.”

  “He sounds like a wonderful man.”

  “He was…in every way. He could look hard and mean, but he was the sweetest, kindest man you’d ever want to meet. I loved him for it, even though, at the time, I was too young to appreciate how rare those qualities were.”

  “I can see that you’ve never gotten over him. You’ve never moved on. How long has it been, again?”

  “How old are you?” />
  “Just turned twenty-four.”

  Robert grinned. “Then it’s been twenty-four years.”

  Jess shook her head. “That’s too long. He wouldn’t want you to be alone, would he? He wouldn’t want you to have what you have up there, would he?” She pointed to the ceiling, her mouth pulled down in a frown.

  “I’m sure he wouldn’t.”

  “No. Not when he was protective of you like you said he was.” Jess stood. “I’m going to go up to his room. Is that okay?”

  Robert gave her a smile he was certain conveyed his wariness. “What are you talking about?”

  “He needs to either come down here and join us, or find someplace else to party. I don’t think, when you invited him to share your life, this is the kind of sharing you had in mind.”

  “Jess, you can’t.”

  Jess cocked her head. “You’re afraid of him, aren’t you?”

  Robert thought for a moment, wishing he could pull Jess back down on the couch next to him and try to recapture the intimacy they had shared only moments ago. He wondered about the salmon he had poached earlier, sitting in the fridge in its broth of wine, bay leaf, and stock. There you go again, Mr. Queen of Denial.

  “I don’t know. Maybe I’m afraid of what I’ve always been the most afraid of.”

  “Which is?” But Jess looked like she already knew.

  Robert stared down at the floor. “The truth. As long as I suspect he’s fooling around, as long as I suspect he’s doing drugs up there, there’s still a chance it might not be true. I can still tell myself we’re going through a rough patch and things will get better, and all he’s doing up there in his separate bedroom is watching a movie.”

  “Can I go up there?”

  Robert threw up his hands in resignation. “You’re a very direct person, aren’t you?”

  “I just think you need some looking out for.”

  Robert shook his head. “Go ahead.”

  * * * *

  Jess mounted the spiral staircase slowly, her emotions at odds. On the one hand, she was surprised to find herself angry and yes, protective of her new friend. On the other, she had barely glimpsed this guy, who was about the same age as she was. Where did she get off barging in on him? How did she have the nerve to confront him when it was, really, none of her business?

  But it was her business. Whether it was due to what Robert had done for her, her own nature, or even reincarnation for that matter, she did feel a fierce urge to protect Robert. And she hated seeing him taken advantage of like this.

  Jess marched down the hallway. As she drew closer, she heard the groans and grunted proclamations indicating the soundtrack to just about any porn movie. The air was heavy with cigarette smoke. Why did Robert allow this?

  She paused outside the door, feeling very much like she did just before she stepped out onto a stage. In a way, she was getting into character. Otherwise, she wasn’t sure she had the courage follow through on her actions. She forced herself to take several deep breaths, raised her hand, and knocked on the door, thinking, Jess enters stage left.

  Immediately, the sound from the porno cut off. There was absolute silence for what seemed like a full one or two minutes. She heard little movement from inside.

  And then, “Robert? What do you want? I told you before; I’m not hungry.”

  Jess sighed. “It’s not Robert; it’s Jess.” She debated for only a moment and then decided the best course of action was not to give him time to hide whatever he was doing, but to barge in. Without allowing herself time to be afraid or nervous about what she was about to do, she placed her hand on the doorknob. A part of her hoped the door would be locked, saving her from whatever scene awaited her.

  But Ethan had left the door unlocked, and Jess swung it open. She found herself a player in front of a stunned, and most likely hostile, audience. And there he was, right in front of her, completely naked, his mouth agape. He was frozen, a tiny pink baggie in one hand, a cigarette in the other. His eyes widened at the sight of her. Under other circumstances, the view might have been comic.

  But there was no comedy in what Jess saw: a skinny, wasted (in every sense of the word) young man, his skin yellowish and pulled taut over protruding ribs. Sores covered his body. A black rubber cock ring wrapped around an almost unnaturally tiny penis, looking shriveled and red, like it was trying to retreat into the young man’s body. The television screen was frozen on a large black cock penetrating a white ass. On the nightstand stood a bottle of lube, several striped straws, a pack of Parliaments, and an ashtray close to overflowing. And on the dresser, Jess saw several long lines of a white powdery substance.

  Ethan put the cigarette in the ashtray and yanked the sheet from the bed to cover himself. Jess wondered if it was more out of modesty or shame over his withered, skeletal form.

  He moved—too late—to block her view of the dresser. “What the hell?”

  Jess wasn’t sure what to say, confronted as she was with such blatant evidence. She just shook her head slowly and bit her lip. Finally, she said, “Do you think Robert would approve of this?” She tried to concentrate, so she could quell the breathless quality of her voice. Even though she had expected something like the scene laid out before her, it was still shocking, almost surreal.

  “This is none of your business.” Ethan’s eyes were wild; they darted everywhere except Jess’s gaze. “It’s none of Robert’s either.” He swallowed hard. His voice sounded cracked and hoarse. “Now, get the fuck out of my room. Who the fuck are you, anyway? You have no right.”

  “I care about Robert, which gives me the right. I don’t like seeing anyone being taken advantage of.” She moved into the room and dabbed at one of the lines and held her finger up, covered in white. “Is this what you think he gives you money for?”

  Ethan stared, slack-jawed. “He…he doesn’t know.”

  “Oh come off it! You really think he doesn’t? He knows; he just doesn’t have the courage to throw your sorry ass out.” Jess took her palm and swiped it across the surface of the dresser, so the powdery white flew into the air and then rained down on the red Oriental rug.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” Ethan shrieked.

  “Probably not much. I’m sure there’s plenty more where that came from.” She neared him, leaning her head back slightly, away from the sour acid stench of him. “I actually came up here to invite you down to dinner. But I doubt you have much appetite…at least for food.” She knew she was lying, but she was beginning to enjoy this role. It was making her feel better than she had in a long time. “I’m going back down in a minute, and you need to get this shit cleaned up…and probably pack your bags because if you think this will be our little secret, honey, think again.” She rubbed the white, crystalline powder between her fingers and looked up at him. “What is this, anyway? Coke?”

  “Meth.” Ethan sat on the bed.

  Jess frowned. “Why? Why are so many of you guys killing yourselves with this shit?”

  “I don’t know.” Ethan lowered his head and started to cry.

  His tears didn’t impress her. “I’ll leave you alone now, but you and Robert need to have a long talk.”

  She turned and slammed the door behind her. Once shut, she leaned against it, shaking. It wasn’t easy to catch her breath. Poor Robert.

  * * * *

  Ethan stared at the powder covering the surface of the red Oriental rug. Who did that bitch think she was, anyway? He contemplated trying to sweep it up, but realized it would be mixed with dust and dirt and would most likely taint his high. Besides, as Jess had so kindly pointed out, there was plenty more where that came from.

  He lit another cigarette off the butt of the last. His hands trembled, and his heart thudded uncomfortably in his chest. Once again, he wondered about the signs of a heart attack. He toyed with the remote control, contemplating starting the porno back up, but his heart was no longer in it.

  Damn her, she ruined everything. Ethan lay back on the bed an
d stared at the ceiling, struggling to breathe. What was she downstairs telling Robert? Was Robert getting ready to come up here and throw him out? How would he survive? Where would he turn if he was suddenly thrust out into the cold, mean streets of Chicago with no home, no job, and no money? He turned on his side and looked over at the nightstand, where the baggie was still half full of Tina. He reached out for it and thought about just emptying it into his mouth, like he used to do with that candy when he was a kid. What were they called? Pixie Stix? The thought might have made him laugh at one time, but there was no humor about this hot water in which he suddenly found himself.

  What will I say to Robert if he comes up here? How will I explain? I suppose I could just throw myself on his mercy, but maybe things are too far gone for a quality like mercy. Ethan groped around in the nightstand drawer and found his car keys. He dipped the key into the bag, loaded up a small shovelful of the drug, and snorted it up his nose, immediately tasting the acid drip in the back of his throat. He leaned back against the headboard, trying to catch his breath.

  I will not let that bitch ruin my fun. Ethan stood and began dressing. Before he could even manage to put a leg into his jeans, he plopped back down on his bed, gasping for air and feeling as though he had just attempted to lift something roughly equivalent in weight to a grand piano. His legs shook from just that tiny effort.

  Whoa, buddy, you need to regroup. He forced himself to lie on his back, to concentrate on getting his racing pulse, sweating body, and too-rapidly-expanding-and-contracting lungs back to some semblance of order. Tina will let you take a little break. Just a tiny one. Lie here for an hour or so and then see how you feel. Then you can decide what to do.

  And Ethan did something he had never done before while in the midst of a massive high: he dropped immediately into sleep.

  * * * *

  Downstairs, Robert stared at Jess, his mouth open.

  “You actually witnessed him doing drugs?” He felt a tightness in his chest and felt like he wanted to cry. He suddenly wished Jess wasn’t thrusting irrefutable evidence in his face. “I mean, are you sure? Maybe you were mistaken?” Please, please, please let there be a logical explanation…a trick of the eye.