SQN - Sine Qua Non - Issue 1 - Journal - Page 92
absolutely drenched. Jimmy got doubly drenched, having made a round trip. The next thing
I know, he is taking off wet clothes, draping them over the radiator, picking out a huge beach
towel and toweling us both off. Both buck naked. With the same towel. In the kitchen, of
course, but still. Talk about Heaven number two.
You might imagine that we cozied up to a fireplace and that sort of thing, but that’s not
quite what we did. When we were finally as toweled off as we could be, Jimmy produced some
dry clothes and that night we watched our first movie together. Of course, my English was
still not too good, so I wasn’t sure exactly what was going on in the movie, but I made out
enough of the story to enjoy it. Even more enjoyable was just sharing the sofa with Jimmy.
Next day, Jimmy moved the blankets from the toolshed to his second bedroom, and that
was that. I never slept in the shed again.
***
Life started to turn into something like a team sport. The occasional jog, stroll, or movie
together made the rest of the day almost as wonderful. We did not have meals together,
though: I couldn’t ask that of him without feeling like I’d be imposing. Besides, I didn’t like
all those vegetables he ate—he had become a vegetarian since we met, and so there were no
more fish or steak dinners. But day after day he started looking healthier and healthier, fitter
and fitter. And acting nicer and nicer. As if he were actually . . . happy.
Our favorite movies to watch together turned out to be not romances, or bromances, but
horror movies. Frankenstein movies, Dracula movies, monster movies, alien-invader movies,
and flicks with subtler plots, like the ones where wax statues come to life, or a character gets
transmuted into a fly. Werewolf movies were my personal favorite, as I could really relate to
the plot development of the full moon. Anyway, I don’t think it was the stories I particularly
liked. It was that during the scary parts, guess what would happen. This incredibly appealing,
jovial gentleman—Jimmy—would grab me. And thus would we remain, in each other’s
clench, sometimes for the duration of the movie. I think Heaven on Earth is when the one
you love reaches out for you and you are there for him.
So life was good, great, with little episodes of Heaven sprinkled in amongst the daily
humdrum of living, which is never humdrum, is it, when the person you live with also
happens to be the person you love.
After a few years, I suppose—I never was good with time—on the nights of those lateshow horror movies, Jimmy started to acquire a new habit of making sounds in his sleep. As if
he were having bad dreams. Sometimes he would talk in his sleep, and I thought I recognized
some of the dialogue from the movies, so I figured he was being haunted by those stories.
Occasionally on such a night, his thrashing back and forth grew so drastic that I feared he
would even fall out of bed or bang his head against the wall and hurt himself. I didn’t know
what to do. But I couldn't do nothing, could I? Answer: No.
Sometimes I would just need to peek around his door (he never closed it) to make sure
he was all right, and if he wasn’t at first, soon he would be. Some nights I had to go all the way
into his room until he calmed down. It was as if my presence had some magic power to chase
away his demons, curb those nightmares. Because it always worked! Just about always. Then
I’d go back to my bed, of course. Or mattress-on-the-floor, rather, which was all I required.
I wouldn’t have it any other way. Every so often, though, he’d be so restless that I couldn’t go
back to my room, so I’d park myself in the corner of his room. He’d never know, because I’d
wake up ahead of his alarm and scurry off, well before he woke up. At least, that was the plan.
One night Jimmy was flailing something fierce, as if he were trapped in a horror movie
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