SQN - Sine Qua Non - Issue 1 - Journal - Page 94
Right at me! And then, guess what, he did an even stranger and more wonderful thing. He
planted a big wet one right on my kisser. So what do you think I did? What else could I do?
I planted one back on him. And he kept smiling!
That was too much for me to bear, so finally, since I could see that daylight had peeked
in through the window blinds, I hopped off and scurried along to my mattress in the next
room. Well, like I said, there are as many kinds of love as there are pairs of personalities on
the planet at any given moment. At least, I think so.
***
And so we persevered. And loved, in our way. In my way, anyway. I never quite knew for
certain if Jimmy loved me the way I loved him. We never said the word, of course, but guys
don’t, do they? But that’s not important, really, when you love someone the way I loved him.
Can you understand that?
What finally ended it? Well, nothing. We went on, until death did us part, and it was
then that I finally found out one night what Heaven on Earth could really be. Because one
night, I actually experienced it. For an entire night.
How? Well, this is the strangest part of my story.
To this day, I am not sure that some of those horror movies aren’t based on something
that’s actually true. And sometimes I think that watching them can turn the story of your life
into, well, the plot of that horror movie. In other words, if you watch a movie about a creature
from a black lagoon, you might just run into such a creature next time you go swimming,
whether in a lagoon or elsewhere. Or, even easier, haven’t you on a full moon surprised
yourself and friends by suddenly howling like a werewolf? I sure have.
Because quite a few horror-movie plots seemed to be totally like my life, in the end. Like
the ones where certain characters age way too fast. Or backwards. Like Benjamin Button. Or
not at all. Like Dorian Gray—until the end, that is, yikes. You know the flicks? Sometimes it
is called science fiction instead of horror. Time is not what you think, and age seems not to
matter—and vice versa. Which is how it works where I am now, by the way.
Anyway, after years of living together, sleeping together, watching movies together, and
comforting each other during nightmares and thunderstorms, one day, when Jimmy and I
went jogging, it started to seem a little hard to keep up with him. Oh, he was nice about it,
as he would be, and waited up for me, but I was, well, not worried, but concerned. A few
days later, or weeks, we were playing catch in the back yard, and for some reason I did more
chasing a frisbee that had landed on the ground already than I did catching one still in the
air. The reason: I was getting old. Fast. Too fast. Like Benjamin Button, but backwards. And
Jimmy wasn’t.
We still had some years together, but they began to involve, well, less doing active things
together and more simply spending time quietly in each other’s company. We started to watch
more movies that weren’t horror movies, for instance. More and more often I would lie down
on the sofa with my head on his lap, and he’d let me. And sometimes he’d let a finger of his, or
two, touch my ear or chin or shoulder or neck. And when the movie was over, and it was time
to turn out the lights, sometimes he’d peck me quick on the top of my head—he was quite a
bit taller than me—or he’d grab my cheeks with both hands and plant one right on my nose.
I thought: How many kinds of Heaven can one bear in a single lifetime? Even though
I was getting old fast, and our days were no doubt numbered, I was growing happier and
happier with my Jimmy.
I guess cherish is the word that comes to mind, now that I have all these words at my
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