Page 23 of When Ben Loved Jace
“What did he do in the winter?” I ask, starting with the least of my concerns.
“That was always a tough time of year for him. Sometimes he’d stay with his mom, which he hated. Victor loved her, but to him, being back in her house felt like failing. I would also uh… sneak him into my bedroom on occasion.”
That’s relatable.
“He tried sleeping in an old freight container for a while, which provided shelter but wasn’t any warmer. I met him there once and his lips were turning blue.” Jace’s brow furrows as he pokes at his plate. “That’s when I asked Bernie if he could stay in the Airstream trailer. The land he always parked it on wasn’t near much of anything. Bernie agreed. Victor was happy there. Sure, he would leave the door open and welcome nature in, including possums and racoons but…” Jace sighs. “That just made me love him more.”
“Wait until you see my place. Allison swears we have mice.”
He smiles at this, although it’s tinged with a hint of sorrow. “Worrying about Victor so much took a toll on me. I was always bringing food to him. He’d try to forage, but it was never enough. When I taught him how to fish, the first one he caught was also the last. He threw it back.”
“Oh. Was he a vegetarian?”
“Not really. If I brought him a burger and fries, he’d eat it. And then he would explain how horrible industrial farming is. Victor was a walking contradiction. He wanted to rise above his own shortcomings, like we all do, but whenever he failed, ithit him harder than it does most people. Nature was sacred to him. An industrial cow was better off dead, but everything that was still free? He couldn’t stand to see any of it suffer. Even the branches of his lean-to were gathered off the forest floor. He caught Greg sawing some off a tree once and just about lost it. Meanwhile, I kept trying to imagine how I was going to have a future with someone like him. Car payments and mortgages weren’t part of his vocabulary, and I was getting closer to graduating.”
“The trailer,” I say, the pieces coming together.
Jace nods. “Yeah. That was my only hope. And our big dream. I would live the life that he couldn’t—go to work, buy groceries, pay the bills—and return to him at the end of each day, somewhere out in the wilderness that was so important to him. The trailer would have provided a little bubble of civilization.”
“And a home to a few racoons and some possums,” I add.
“Most likely, yes,” Jace says, shaking his head while laughing. “Obviously that didn’t happen, but I still wanted to take a part of the dream with me.” He looks up in concern. “I hope that doesn’t make you like the trailer less. I don’t want you to feel like you’re sleeping in my ex’s bed. I assure you, by the time Victor was done with it, all sorts of renovations and replacements were necessary. The mattress included.”
“I don’t mind.” I assure him. “If anything, I like it better now. But if I’m ever staying at your place and want a bubble bath…”
“Just knock on Greg’s door,” Jace says warmly.
We move on to other subjects while we finish eating, but my appetite remains strong as we leave the commons together.
“When do you get out of class?”
“How about now?” I suggest.
Jace gasps theatrically. “Won’t you get detention for skipping?”
My tone is aloof. Rebellious. “I don’t care. Rules are for people who don’t have such a hot boyfriend.”
“We shouldn’t make a habit of this,” Jace says, “but I certainly don’t mind.”
“Awesome! Where are you parked?”
Now it’s me who is pulling him along. I skip happily while clinging to his hand. Mine mine mine! Allison won’t be home until late, a fact I inform him of the second we enter myapartment. I give him the grand tour, which doesn’t take long. Aside from our kitchen, we have a narrow living room and a bathroom with a cracked tub. I only let him peek into Allison’s room, because she did a much better job of utilizing the space. My own has the bigger bed at least, which I make sure to point out.
“Wanna give it a try?” I ask, sitting and bouncing up and down on it with a grin.
Jace is amused by my antics, but at the moment, he’s more interested in checking out the rest of my room. One of the most striking features in particular. “That’s a nice painting.”
“Thanks,” I say, the smile sliding off my face.
He notices. “Are you into art?”
“Not really. I had a passing interest in a particular artist. That’s all.”
“Ah.” Jace considers the painting again.
The sentiment is unmistakable. If the overlapping hearts weren’t hint enough, the passionate colors tell the rest of the story. Maybe I shouldn’t have hung it on my wall when moving here, but like he said, sometimes you want to keep a piece of the dream with you. Even once it’s over.
His eyes return to mine. “Do you want to talk about it? I’d like to learn more about you. Including your past.”
