seattle

The first couple of days with Tom in town had been pleasant, if mildly disconcerting to Jack. Of course he had been glad to see Tom shuffle across the hotel lobby with his huge duffel bag falling off of his shoulder, but something about it shook him, saddened him. It was too familiar, too much like days he had seen too often in his past. Although Jack knew he didn't really have much of anything in Seattle, he also knew that what he did have was going to be lost - solitude.

There were patterns to Jack's life now - get up, go on line and send some messages out to his family, write, go to work. After work he would stop at a bar, grab a six pack to take home, download porn, masturbate, then write until the early hours of morning. It certainly was not the most ambitious schedule, but it suited Jack's new life. He loved that he never had to worry about who was sleeping on his couch tonight, or why he couldn't walk around the house naked. Now he could be naked whenever he wanted, and only he slept on his couch. But with the arrival of the familiar and loved face of Tom came great change. Even if there were a chance that Jack could still walk around naked, he certainly couldn't masturbate while downloading porn.

Within a day Jack realized he never had his keys with him, Tom always had them. When he came home he would find that Tom had answered all the e-mail messages for them both, denying Jack one of his few connections with the East Coast. What made matters worse was the fact that most of the messages were for Tom only.

Yet despite these abrupt shifts in his life, and the frustrating inability to write at whatever hour he pleased, Jack was relieved to have Tom around. How many panic attacks had he experienced in the past few months? How frightened was he when he found himself lost in the dark of his apartment alone, hearing the sound of a young boy falling eight stories and landing on the roof above his head over and over again? How desperate did he feel on so many sleepless nights when he knew he had no one to talk to? How many times did he have to hurry embarrassed out of bars to avoid getting into fights with people who mocked the way he dressed? Now all that would change. Now someone had his back. Jack had always felt more confident walking into a strange bar with Tom at his side.

There was another fear tickling the back of Jack's throat. He knew that Holly would be in Seattle soon. Although he desperately wanted to see her again, and often found himself admiring the few pictures he had of her, he was terrified of seeing her while still in the midst of his most recent period of adjustment. His mind was a horror show, and he found himself unable to center himself in any genuine place. His panic was confounded even more by the knowledge that she had been to Seattle before, and had several friends in town. He wondered if he would in fact have anything at all to offer her. He doubted, in fact, that he would be able to show her anything that she did not already know. Tom had already found places Jack had never known, and was already getting recognition as he walked the streets. Jack was still a nobody, just some freak in a suit.

He also had no idea what to expect or how to act towards Holly once she arrived. The last few weeks Jack had spent with Holly in Philadelphia had been sweet and tender, and he had never seen her smile at him so often. He wondered to himself if he should kiss her when he saw her, or if a mere embrace would be too large a show of affection. Her trip to Seattle had been planned before he moved, he knew he wasn't the inspiration for it, and he began to assume that she had some kind of relation with her friend Claude that Jack would only interfere with. He tried to get some kind of clue from her when he spoke to her on the phone, but she was always vague and distant, and offered no answers. Jack vowed that he would wait for a sign from her, and quietly prayed that he would be offered the chance to lie down with her again.

Meanwhile, everything at work was falling apart. Instead of learning more as he went along, he found the confusion of his daily life making it impossible for him to grasp anything that was happening. He found himself forgetting the names of restaurants he had frequented, and recommending places he had never even seen. He continually got Port Angeles confused with Anacortes, and he was exceptionally consistent at giving guests incorrect directions to places. He became convinced for two days that Campagne was on Pike Street, and that McCormick's Fish House served excellent steaks. Yet despite his obvious struggle, his coworkers seemed to have no problem making him come in early so that they could leave before the end of their shifts. Jack quietly realized that his job as a concierge was making him hate a city he would never have time to know.

Just as when Tom arrived in town, Jack found himself working the night that Holly arrived. He hoped that she would stop by the hotel to see him before meeting up with her friends, if only so that the people he worked with could bear witness to her beauty. He had, of course, boasted to all of his male colleagues that she was coming to see him, and that she just happened to know someone else in Seattle. He knew this was not the case, but he found himself desperately needing something to brag about. So throughout his shift, he stopped and looked up to see every person that walked through the lobby in hopes that one of them would be there just to see him.

Instead, Holly called him from a pay phone. Her friends had met her at the airport and were taking her out on the town. She promised to call closer to the end of Jack's shift to tell him where to meet them. Jack agreed, and in the paranoid recesses of his mind convinced himself already that he was not the emphasis of her visit, and that instead he would merely be a figure in the background, watching other people have a wonderful time. His heart sunk.

Even before he had moved to Seattle, Jack had started to wonder just where exactly he fit into the world around him. He wondered if he had ever been a lead, or if he was the eternal bit character, standing around on the fringes of every scene. He often feared that he had become a background performer in his own life. He waited for someone give him a script, or to tell him that his role had finally been written. He had hopes that moving away from everyone and everything would eventually help him find some place, some remnant of himself, that he could cling to and bring back home with him. But instead he found himself lost with no words, no idea how to proceed. And now a dear friend and the last woman he had been in any way intimate with were going to see him at his worst.

Jack found himself just around the corner from where he was to meet everyone. He had given Tom directions, and knew that he was already sitting with Holly and her friends. Jack was frozen for a moment. He wanted to rush up to them all and take Holly in his arms, but he knew that he couldn't, even if he didn't know why. He lit himself another cigarette and took a deep breath. After one last moment of panic, he hitched his breath and walked towards the Nitelite. From the edge of the block he tried to make out Holly's face among the crowd of people who were gathered, but all he could make out were random moonlit strangers. It wasn't until he found himself just before the entrance that he heard her stuttered laugh, and stopped.

She was surrounded by people who were complete strangers to Jack, and he feared he would have to walk into the midst of all of them to make himself seen. But somehow she sensed that he was behind her, and the quickness with which she leapt out of her seat to face him was almost unsettling to Jack's self-hating senses.

She looked beautiful. Her hair was straighter than he had ever seen it, and her eyes were even more piercing than their usual blue had ever achieved. She had a smile on her face, a smile that made Jack think of four months ago and a warm, bright morning when he watched her iron her skirt against her wooden floor. It took Jack a moment or two to realize that Holly was actually standing before him, and it wasn't until she had taken him into her arms and kissed him that his confusion broke, if only for a moment.

He didn't want to let her go. There were people talking, but he couldn't bring himself to hear what they said. He knew Tom was there, but to focus his sights on him would have been a waste of energy. All the energy Jack had was being spent embracing Holly, and Jack didn't want to change a moment of it. She kissed him again, and held him more tightly than he had been held in a season. She tried to introduce him to everyone, but Jack needed a drink.

"Beer first, introductions later!" he announced, happily running into the bar to get his fill. Inside, his head started to swirl. He ordered himself a Pabst and a shot of Beam and tried to let his thoughts come to some logical meeting place. She was here, finally, and he had been waiting for her arrival for some time. But why? He wasn't sure what he was hoping for. Certainly he wished they could be together again, if only for one more night, but he had already convinced himself against any possibility of that. He realized that she had seemed genuinely happy to see him, but she also seemed genuinely drunk. Immediately Jack convinced himself that if she were sober, she would only have shook his hand. He downed his whiskey and carried his beer to their outside table.

Holly was sitting on the outer edge of the table, with Tom on her right and two men Jack didn't know opposite her. She patted the chair on her left for Jack to sit in.

Jack waved his hand. "Actually," he said, pointing to an open seat next to Tom, "I think I'll sit by that table." No sooner had he set his beer down on the vacant table then Holly had switched seats with Tom to be next to Jack. As soon as he sat down she took his hand in hers and squeezed it, staring far into Jack's eyes.

Something was wrong. He couldn't place why, but Jack couldn't bring himself to look into Holly's eyes. He thought he might kiss her, but instead he lowered his gaze and stared incredulously at his hand within hers. His head swimming, he looked around to get some kind of grasp on his surroundings. Holly introduced him to her friends, Houston and Claude. They were both very handsome, certainly more so than Jack felt he was himself. They were also both drunk. There was an assuredness about the way they sat, the way they talked, and the way they drank. Jack immediately felt inferior. Tom, on the other hand, seemed at ease with the two strangers, and the three of them threw jabs and jibes back and forth at each other with the hesitant offhandedness of people who just met each other, but don't want to admit it. Holly was informing Jack that Claude was a professional writer, but Jack found himself fascinated by Houston's blue-painted toenails. Besides, he didn't want to know that anyone was a professional writer, let alone this handsome man whom Holly seemed to know so well. Jack tried to convince himself that Claude's sandpaper baritone voice was nothing more than an affectation.
"I brought something for you." Holly informed Jack. Digging into her bag she produced two photos stored face to face so that they wouldn't get injured. Jack looked at the photos. The first one was obviously taken at Charlie's, shortly before Jack moved to Seattle. There, in the picture, were such beautiful faces - Darryl Halladay, burly and blonde-bearded and halfway through his all-night bender; Mr. Clean, smiling and bald and beer in hand; Tom, drunk and happy, his arm around his fiancee Sonya; Tom Harlow standing tall and suave next to his girl Cindy. The next was Jack and Holly, close together, and seemingly happy. So many wonderful friends, Jack thought, so far away.

Suddenly Jack looked around, and realized that Tom and Holly were sitting next to him. He felt confused. He didn't understand how they could be out here, with him, when he had left them all behind in Philadelphia. They were supposed to be three thousand miles away, not holding his hand at a bar in Belltown.

Holly captured Jack's gaze. "Are you okay?" she asked.

He wanted to say yes, but all he could do was look at her and nod.

"You don't believe that I'm here, do you?"

"No," Jack said, "It all seems too strange. But you are here, aren't you?"

"Yes, Jack, I'm in Seattle." There was an understanding in her voice that helped Jack relax. He found himself almost believing her.

"Well," Jack said, finishing his beer, "I'm glad for that."

With that, and the smile on Holly's face, Jack let the night slip on. There were conversations, and laughter. Pictures were taken of crotches and men's nipples and blue-painted toes. Even if Jack wasn't sure exactly where "here" was, he was glad to be there.

Jack was awoken the next day by Tom wandering around the kitchen space, cleaning the counter and making coffee that Jack would be the only one drinking. Jack sat up on the futon that he never got around to unfolding and lit up a cigarette.
"Morning."

Tom scratched his bare belly above his boxers. "Coffee's on."

"Thank God."

"No, thank me, motherfucker."

"Whatever." Jack wanted juice, or water, but standing up was not an attractive option for him at the moment. The night's excesses centered themselves in the thick of his chest and he waited patiently for his morning's usual coughing bout.
Tom brought Jack a cup of coffee. Jack sipped at it and realized that it was perfect. His gratitude for Tom's ability to make him a perfect cup of coffee was second only to his wish that Tom could have let him sleep later.

The phone rang. Before Jack could even place where exactly the ringing was coming from, Tom had the phone in his hand and was answering it. Jack felt disbelief. He couldn't imagine that someone had just answered his phone. This, he thought, was simply wrong. He listened to Tom's steady sequence of "Yes's" and "Cool's" and "Sounds good's" with sheer horror. Finally, Tom put down the phone.

"What's up?" Jack asked his cup of coffee.

"That was Holly. They're gonna pick us up in about a half hour and we're gonna go to breakfast."

Jack continued to speak to his coffee. "Oh. We're going to breakfast." It frustrated Jack the way Tom was taking charge. In his apartment, in the city he lived in, Jack was once again becoming a secondary character. The scenes were being written around him, not with him. He wondered if he even needed to be there at all. He realized sadly that the only place he definitely needed to be at that particular moment was in the bathroom.

When he came out, Tom was again on the phone. The conversation sounded amazingly like the first one. And once again Tom hung up the phone without discussing any ideas with Jack or even offering him the phone to talk to whomever was calling his phone number. Jack wanted to vomit. Instead he grabbed a fresh cup of coffee.

"So when's breakfast?"

"There's been a change," Tom announced, "We're going to the Bumbershoot festival. We need to get tickets early to see the bands tonight."

Jack wondered what to do with his coffee. "I thought we were going tomorrow."

"I don't know anything about that." Tom told him.

Jack held his coffee in his hand and pondered what was happening around him. He tried to remember if any of them had agreed to go to Bumbershoot the next day or not. He felt reasonably certain of it, but he wasn't sure. Had they discussed any of these plans the night before? Did anyone ask him how he felt about all of this? The only answer he could find was that he had coffee in his hand that he should be drinking. While he sipped away, Tom went in the other room to get dressed.

With the two of them dressed and ready to go, Jack needed one moment by himself. "I'm gonna go get cigarettes. Buzz me back in."

Tom grunted his agreement as he sat down to his first cup of coffee for the day. Jack checked his pocket to make sure he didn't have his keys, and walked out the door. As he stumbled down the ramp leading outside, he took a deep breath and relished inhaling his own air.

It was a beautiful, if warm, day. He paused for a moment and admired the clear Seattle sky. Then there were voices yelling at him, and he saw Houston's jeep turning the corner. He walked over as they pulled up to the curb. Holly reached a hand out through the window, and Jack took it. He leaned forward to give her a kiss, but she turned her head away. He stepped away from the jeep.

"Get in." Claude advised.

"Listen, let me tell Tom you're here. I've got to get cigarettes. Meet me around the corner."

Jack walked back to his front door and buzzed up to inform Tom of their arrival. Tom said he'd be down, and Jack walked down the hill to the store, realizing it would be the last time for the day he'd be alone.

Houston sped down the highway on the way to the U-district. Jack clung to the window handle and tried to look calm. Soon they were twisting through the random streets of Seattle's neighborhoods, and finally they came to rest outside of someone's house.

"Listen, who is this?" Jack asked. No one answered him. Holly jumped out of the car to retrieve whomever was inside. Claude and Houston were talking about something, while Tom looked quietly out the window. Jack wondered what confusion was going on in Tom's head. Here he was, out of nowhere, three thousand miles away from his home, his fiancee, his jobs, everything. But Jack couldn't figure out the workings of his own head, so he quickly realized the futility of dealing with anyone else's. Suddenly, Holly was back in the car and a man had climbed into the back of the jeep. No sooner had the jeep's hatchback closed, then Houston had the car screaming back down the hill.

The man in the back reached his hand out to Jack. "Hey, we met last night, didn't we?"

Jack took his hand. "No. We didn't."

"Oh." And then the man laid back down. Jack looked at Tom. Tom shrugged. Then the man hit Tom on the shoulder.

"You're the one I met last night! What's your name again?"

"Tom."

"Right, Tom. How's it going?"

"Fine. It's Trent, right?"

"That's me."

Tom looked at Jack. "That's Trent."

Jack nodded. "Got it."

Jack loved the fact that no one else was in on the joke as he and Tom laughed while the car leered on.

Jack found himself feeling a little more clear-headed once they got into the Seattle Center fairgrounds. The air was bright around him, and Holly seemed to be making a concerted effort to be by his side. Yet he knew that there was a madness in his head. The background music for this scene was wrong, and he knew it, but he wondered if anyone other than he himself could hear it. Holly was laughing about a piece of architecture that she thought at first was a ride, and Jack knew that he was taking the joke too far. Yet he was unable to stop himself from going on and on about it in a desperate attempt to fit in with the casual air surrounding him. Finally, those around him stopped laughing at his feeble attempts at humor, and Jack turned quiet. Before he knew it, Trent and Houston had gone off in one direction, Holly and Claude in another, and Jack was facing a ticketeer who expected money from Jack. He paid for Tom and himself and they went inside. They got their special bracelets for the headliners after waiting in another line, and then found themselves at the blues stage watching a man sing through an old gas mask.

The sun seemed foreign above him, and Jack searched his surroundings for some comfort. But everywhere he looked everyone else seemed quite at ease, and Jack's heart started to race. The man in the gas mask banged on his guitar and mumbled through the mask. People seemed to be very content. Jack looked desperately around himself to find some shade or shadows to hide in. Suddenly his suit, which he thought looked great when he put it on, was a target on his body. A mark that anyone that wanted to could take aim upon and fire at readily. Unwittingly, he turned to Holly for support.

"There's a beer garden." She pointed out to him. Jack looked around anxiously. It wasn't the help he wanted, but he was willing to accept anything at this point. After Holly showed him exactly where the beer stand was, Jack grabbed Tom and together they ran through the bodies that reclined on the grass and lined up to get their plastic cups of Bud.

Jack always found the first drink of the day to be soothing and loving, but his beer was showing much animosity towards him, and wouldn't go down his throat without more coercion than Jack had the energy to give.

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