Emails, Jasper thought, allowed both of them to open up without fear or hesitation. Rob had confessed early on that he despised talking on the phone because his mind often went blank and the pressure of that open line often left him feeling vulnerable and witless.
Jasper felt the same. So they wrote. And they talked… and grew in intimacy—without the pressure of physical proximity, which brought its own Pandora’s box full of miseries and delights.
For example, Jasper had learned five things, among others, about Rob that surprised him and piqued his interest:
1. He’d been married very briefly to a model—whose name, even today, would be familiar to most—when he was in his late teens. The marriage had lasted for less than one week and had ignited a flurry of tabloid interest.
2. He got his first agent by pestering Stephen King’s until the beleaguered agent connected him with an upstart in Brooklyn who sold Michael Blake’s first book. The rest was history, and that Brooklyn professional would forever thank Stephen King’s agent for making her rich.
3. He loved three things—morning runs, coffee, and his dog, Kodi, a Chihuahua/Shiba Inu mix he’d rescued from the Palm Springs Animal Shelter. When Rob took him on, he’d had a long record of biting and debilitating shyness, both induced by extreme fear, the details of which would forever remain unknown. He’d been discovered wandering on a street near the airport, emaciated and infested with fleas. No one knew his exact age or what caused him to cower at the simple nearness of a human hand. “I took him on,” Rob explained in one email, “because I saw myself in him.”
4. Perhaps not surprisingly, Rob had had very few romantic relationships, even though he was embarking on his sixth decade on the planet. “I’ve just never clicked with anyone,” he wrote. “Never?” Jasper had asked. And he’d responded, “It’s my deepest, darkest secret (well, one of them anyway) that I’ve never been in love. I don’t even know what it feels like. Maybe I’m just not capable.” Jasper had done research online and had seen Rob, aka Michael Blake, the openly gay suspense author, paired up with high-level businessmen, actors, athletes, and even a politician (Democrat, thank God), but Rob explained all of them were, more or less, for “publicity purposes,” and the images Jasper’d seen on Google were almost all “photo ops” set up by the woman who did his public relations out of her West Hollywood office.
5. He’d lived in Palm Springs for the past fifteen years. “I love the desert. I even love the summer heat. The endless blue skies, the foliage, the kind of weird vibe that comes off the mountains all around us makes me feel at home.”
JASPER HADbeen stunned, especially, by the revelation that Rob had never been in love. How could that be when Jasper himself had been “in love” more times than he could count? A hairy chest, a sweet lopsided smile, a stubbled face, or even a kind word were enough to convince Jasper he was in love and had found a soul mate. That he tired quickly of these “soul mates,” or they of him, didn’t mean they weren’t in love, only that love was fleeting, and no one knew, really, the answer to the age-old question: How does one make love stay? Yet deep down he knew that Rob’s never having been in love was common ground Jasper shared with him.
Jasper revealed to Rob five things about himself, keeping his own tragic and twisted story secret lest he inspire too much pity.
1. He’d never owned a pet. His dad had always said anything else living—even a goldfish—was too much for him to take care of. With Jasper, he was burdened enough. One mouth to feed was more than adequate, thank you very much. “Feeding me was the least my dad could do—and he rose spectacularly to that level,” Jasper wrote. He’d always wanted a dog or a cat but had never found the time to care for one. And if there was one lesson he learned from his wounded, damaged, and damaging father, it was that if you don’t have the time and attention to give to another living thing, then leave it alone.
2. Despite feeling comfortable that his dad was distant, hard to love, and nearly impossible to get close to, and despite his being Jasper’s own, and only, flesh and blood, he still longed to have a relationship with the man. “Someone once told me I could only do that if I accepted him as simply a fellow human being, flawed as he was, andnota parent. That made logical sense to me, but I don’t know if I can ever internalize it.” Without going into detail about his past, Jasper had confided in Rob that he “understood why his dad was the way he was. He’d been so hurt as a young man, so traumatized, that he probably suffered from some form of PTSD that was never treated.”
3. Although Jasper had loved many men in his own way (and he begrudgingly admitted he may have been confusing lust with love), he’d never thought he, himself, was much of a catch. “I’m too skinny. My nose is too big. I snore. I’m uncoordinated. I have no social graces whatsoever. I’m selfish…” was just the beginning of a laundry list of flaws Jasper perceived within himself. Rob wrote back that Jasper’s flaws were imagined. “You’re undoubtedly one of the most beautiful men I’ve ever laid eyes on, and the fact that you don’t seem to realize it makes you even more beautiful.” Jasper thought Rob was full of it, but even knowing that, he’d walked on a cloud all day after getting that message.
4. He loved old movies, especially old tearjerkers. “The more I cry, the higher the movie’s star rating.” He sent Rob a list that included:Written on the Wind; Imitation of Life; Stella Dallas; Charly; Goodbye, Mr. Chips; Longtime Companion; Philadelphia; Steel Magnolias; Brief Encounter; Old Yeller; Ghost; Brian’s Song; E.T.; Brokeback Mountain; It’s a Wonderful Life; and of courseThe Wizard of Oz.
5. He’d never been west of the Mississippi. “I’d love to travel, but who can afford it?” he’d wondered, knowing Rob could. What must it be like, Jasper speculated, to be able to jet off to anywhere one’s heart desired? First class? When he thought of his meager paycheck, he realized he might have to accept the fact that it was possible he’d never know.
AT FIRST,Jasper was uncomfortable with the email-only arrangement, but then he found some patience. He discovered he enjoyed getting to know a man’s heart and brain before what his dick felt like inside of him.
Not that he didn’t fantasize about the latter!
Today he didn’t need to be in at the store until early afternoon. Now he was seated at Stan’s desk, the brushed-aluminum desk lamp banishing the dark of the morning outside, a cup of Starbucks dark-roast french-press coffee steaming in a mug beneath the glow of the lamp. He’d become a master at making coffee and, at times, comforted himself that Lacy was guiding his hand as he made his first attempts at getting the grind right, the temperature perfect, and the steeping timing down.
And he realized, with the rain pouring down outside and the distant rumble of thunder, that he at last felt comfortable here in Lacy’s old room. Even though Stan lived here and had moved in his own Ikea furniture, it would always be Lacy’s room in Jasper’s mind. For a long time after she died, he’d find himself tearing up simply standing in the doorway, remembering.
But with time came acceptance. And now he could remember the room fondly, with memories of sleeping cuddled up with her something to be grateful for rather than something to despair of. The memories were becoming more soft caresses than pinpricks to his heart.
She’d stopped appearing to him too. Those instances may or may not have been his imagination, but he treasured them whatever they were. Yet he didn’t feel sad when he noticed they were gone. Their absence must mean that Lacy had moved on to whatever realm she now occupied. And that made him happy.
Perhaps the happiness she sought was beyond the veil.
It also allowed Jasper to move on somewhat too. He’d never have imagined he could feel comfortable, almost cozy, in this room. But he did.
He clicked on the Chrome browser icon in the toolbar at the bottom of the iMac’s screen to open it, then brought up Gmail and entered his username and password.
An email from Rob (Michael Blake! Michael Blake is writing to me personally! On an almost daily basis!) always made him smile and gave him a serious jolt of pleasure.
There was one waiting. He clicked on it and began reading.
One of the things I’ve learned as a writer is to come right to the point. Forego distraction. Worship brevity, clarity, and simplicity.
So, I’ll jump right in.
I want to see you. No, not a picture of you (although some of the ones you’ve sent have been very nice—and some have even made my temperature, along with other things, rise).
You. In the flesh. What a lovely turn of phrase.
