Drifting Through Doorways Chapter 1
Say not in grief: "He is no more", but live in thankfulness that he was.
-Hebrew Proverb
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I.
Sunday, October 20th
There is a moment between waking and sleeping when a person realizes, beyond any doubt, that they have in fact been asleep; that everything that came before was nothing but a dream. Jared felt the unwelcome spark of that moment, and retreated from it. For Jared, waking up was worst part of each day.
Jared’s eyes fluttered open and he stretched. Instinctively his arm lifted as he sought out the familiar warmth of his bed-mate. He found nothing but cool morning air and the cold linen of an otherwise empty bed. The grief hit then, as usual - a hot stab of anxiety in his belly that shot physical pain through his limbs and made his fingers tingle. His breath caught in his chest and his eyes stung as his memories kicked in, brutal and painful.
One year and it still hurt like a fresh, gaping wound; like it happened only yesterday. That year had been simultaneously the shortest and longest year in Jared’s life. There was a hole in his world and Jared didn’t know if it would ever close or scar over.
Jared knew he wasn’t dealing with it, and that he needed to move on. Everyone said so, if not in words than in sad, sympathetic looks. Jared just wasn’t sure how to deal with it, or if he really even wanted to. Somehow, it seemed fitting that he should hide himself away in the apartment they’d made a home of - fitting that he should waste away.
With a sigh, he sat up, swung his legs over the bed and covered his face with his hands. He breathed the way his foster mother showed him when she’d realized Jared was starting to have panic attacks. Three counts in; six counts out. He scrubbed his hands over his face, pressing firmly against his closed eyes and exhaled slowly. The cold sense of panic lessened, and he was ready to face the day. Well, as ready as he’d ever be. He glanced at the alarm clock that sat on his bedside table. It showed the time to be a little after 10:00 AM, which was later than Jared usually slept. He shrugged. It wasn’t like he had anywhere to be.
He stood and started removing his pajamas, letting them lay on the floor and not bothering to put them in the hamper. It was easier not to bother, and besides, Chad had been over at least twice a week since the funeral to help clean up, make sure Jared was eating, bathing and well, still breathing. Jared knew he was taking advantage but he couldn’t really bring himself to care. He wondered how long Chad would keep it up; how long before Chad washed his hands of Jared and let him rot away in his apartment. Jared wouldn’t blame Chad if and when he got tired of putting up with Jared’s crap, but he hoped it wouldn’t come to that. Chad was pretty much his only social interaction anymore.
When it first happened, there had been more than just Chad checking up on him - his foster mother for one, a handful of friends as well, all hovering about like a swarm of bees. Time passed and eventually the visits tapered off when things started getting uncomfortable. No one wanted to be around the guy who couldn’t get over the death of his husband enough to even return to work. Jared used all of his bereavement leave, then all of his vacation and finally all of the unpaid leave his job was willing to give him. When he’d received the written ultimatum in the mail - return to work on such and such date or forfeit your job - Jared tried to go in to work. He really had. He’d gotten up promptly when the alarm went off at 6:30 AM, showered, shaved and dressed.
He’d made it as far as the car before the panic set in. Twenty minutes later Jared stumbled back into the apartment and called his job. Apologizing profusely, he quit and then spent the rest of the day moping in bed, hating himself and feeling pathetic. Thank God for the insurance money, Jared thought on a regular basis, or I’d be on the street.
Freshly showered and shaved, Jared threw on jeans and a T-shirt. He was shaving on a semi-weekly basis now, hoping it would show, at least on a superficial level, that he was making some progress in dealing with all this.
He left his bedroom and made his way to the kitchen. He reached up to grab a box of cereal off of the top of the refrigerator when his elbow hit a stack of precariously stacked dishes. An avalanche ensued; dinner plates, cups and silverware all going over the edge like a pack of lemmings. Jared closed his eyes tightly until the cacophony ceased, and then only opened one eye to assess the damage. Amazingly, only one coffee mug had broken . He frowned at the mess, as if by scowling at it the cup would reconstitute itself and float back up to the counter. He picked up the dishes and silverware that were still in one piece and dumped them into his sink. Sighing, he grabbed his broom and dustpan and started cleaning up the mess.
At that moment his best friend, Chad, burst into the apartment. Chad did everything at max volume. So, of course, his arrival went something like this:
“Jared! Jared? Where are you man?” The first thing he did was fling the living room curtains open wide, allowing bright sunshine to flood the apartment. When he turned, he saw Jared stooped over in the kitchen, sweeping bits of ceramic into his dustpan with a whisk broom. “Holy shit, you’re cleaning? By yourself?” Jared looked up and scrunched up his face at the blinding sunlight that lit Chad up like some kind of angel. It was almost amusing. Chad continued.
“And you shaved! Good to see you again, Jared. Thought you’d disappeared forever into the underbrush,” here Chad made beard stroking motions as if to further his point. Jared rolled his eyes.
“I should have left the mess for you,” Jared said quietly, ignoring Chad’s dramatics. “But I don’t wanna step on it barefoot later. You know I would.” He finished his task and dumped the contents of the dustpan into the garbage can, dismayed when he realized that he hadn’t put a fresh bag in there since he last took the trash out. Well, the last time Chad took the trash out, but that wasn’t the point. He clicked the little broom into the dust pan and put in the cabinet under the sink.
“Aw, that’s so thoughtful of you,” Chad said sarcastically. He tilted the trash can towards himself and snorted when he realized, like Jared did, that there was no bag in there.
“Really Jared? You couldn’t bring yourself to put a bag in here?” If Chad wasn’t careful, he was going to start sounding like his mother. “Oh, gross. There’s banana peels in here! You get to scoop that crap out. I’m not doing it.”
Jared didn’t respond, just gave Chad a thin-lipped look and handed him a fresh garbage bag from under the sink. Chad sighed and began gingerly picking things out of the trash can, dropping them into the bag. Jared smiled, shook his head and went to help.
“Here, hold the bag open and I’ll dump the trash in,” he said. “See? I help.”
“You’re lucky I put up with your ass. You really ought to be paying me for maid service,” Chad retorted.
“You love me,” Jared said blandly. Chad scoffed, but it was true. Chad had been Jared’s best friend since the day Jared arrived at the Murray’s house as a scared, angry and aggressive sixteen year old who’d been shipped from foster home to foster home to home since he was eight years old. Never good enough to keep, Jared had thought back then. Never cute or smart enough to be adopted.
Chad had slipped into Jared’s new room even before Jared had unpacked his duffel bag and promised that this was his last stop before he aged out of the system. Jared had been dubious but the Murrays had made good on their promise. Jared had spent his last two dependent years in their care. Despite Chad’s boisterous nature, they’d clicked immediately. Perhaps it was because even though Chad wasn’t a foster kid, he’d been adopted by the Murrays at the age of six, he knew what it was like to be in the system - to be abandoned, given up on, and shipped off to the next place. Or perhaps it was because Chad was a year older and knew how to have fun and not get caught. Either way they’d become inseparable.
Chad had even been supportive when Jared decided to come out as gay. His foster parents had tried to be supportive, God bless them, but as soon as they’d gotten Jared into college they slowly withdrew from his life. They never voiced their disapproval out loud, but Jared could feel it in the air whenever they were around, and there had been that one Thanksgiving dinner when his foster father had looked up at him and said, confused, “I just don’t understand, Jared. You don’t look gay.” Jared had been speechless.
Chad had come to Jared’s rescue then, calling his dad an idiot and trying to explain that you didn’t have to look a certain way to be gay and if he’d like, Chad would make sure Jared wore a tutu and talked with a lisp next time Jared came over for dinner. Jared had butted in and stopped the conversation before it became even more strained, but he’d appreciated Chad’s effort.
After that, Jared mostly only attended family functions on holidays and important occasions, and he’d been a little surprised when his foster parents had come to his wedding. There had been the awkward moment when his foster father wondered aloud if the wedding events were illegal since gay marriage wasn’t legal, but Chad quickly pulled his dad aside and explained symbolism and commitment and assured his father that no one was going to go to jail for attending Jared’s wedding. Jared put those memories aside and turned to Chad.
“You didn’t have to come by today,” he said. “I’m surviving. I’m going to keep surviving.”
“Surviving,” Chad mimicked in a monotone voice. “Yeah, I can see you’re surviving. But man, you gotta start living. Come on, I’m taking you to the zoo.”
“The zoo?” Jared was perplexed. “Why are you taking me to the zoo?”
“Don’t you like the zoo?” Chad asked, his brow furrowing a little. “I thought you liked animals. Besides, they’ve got clouded leopard cubs.”
Jared perked up a little at that, although as always that small, nagging voice in the back of his mind piped up and told him no, he shouldn’t go. He shouldn’t enjoy anything ever again. That it wasn’t fair to the memory of - well, he knew that it was ridiculous, but it was still how he felt. He bit his lip and Chad must have seen his indecisiveness, for in the next moment he put aside all of his brashness and took a step closer.
“Hey, I know it’s hard, alright? I mean, I don’t know what I’d do if my,” his voice trailed off, and Jared knew what he’d been about to say. Everyone trailed off when they talked about death, as if by not directly mentioning it they could somehow lessen the reality of it. Jared ignored him.
“Zoo, right? That sounds nice, actually,” Jared said, trying to force a smile. “Maybe tomorrow. I was thinking of driving up to Dallas today.”
Jared knew he wouldn’t go. It was about a four to five hour drive to Dallas and the thought of sitting in the car that long with nothing but his thoughts and the radio seemed terrifying. Chad didn’t hesitate to call Jared out on it.
“Dude, you are not driving to Dallas today,” he said. “I can take you next Saturday if you want to go, but not today.” Jared frowned.
“I think I should be able to go visit his grave if I want to!” Jared was on the defensive now, letting his anger at life and death paint a big red target on Chad. It wasn’t fair, but he let it happen anyway. Chad put his hands up in placation.
“Hey, Jay, I never said you couldn’t go visit his grave. I just know that -“
“I’m going for a walk,” Jared said icily, walking over to the door and grabbing a hoodie off the coat rack. Chad started to follow but Jared stopped him with a look. “By myself.” He added, ignoring Chad’s hurt look. He slung his hoodie over his arm and left the apartment, leaving Chad behind. Jared knew that Chad would wait a few minutes and follow behind, but Jared was okay with that. He knew Chad only hovered because of Jared’s complete lack of getting over this.
Perhaps it would have been easier if his husband’s parents hadn’t insisted on burying their son in the family plot up in Dallas, so far away. Jared wanted to go visit the grave more often, but he couldn’t - not unless he either moved up there or was willing to drive five hours on a whim. He’d only been up to visit the grave twice in the past year and never to visit his former in-laws. Both times Chad drove him and made a valiant effort at distracting Jared from his thoughts.
Jared hadn’t put the funeral together either - that had been handled by his husband’s parents. In a way it was ironic, the way they had swooped in a taken over after they’d practically disowned their son for being gay and marrying Jared in the first place. Jared figured that in their own way they were trying to atone for their bigotry and the funeral had been grand; a lot of money thrown around that they wouldn’t have even considered spending on their son merely a week before. What really got to Jared about it though was the way he couldn’t afford to send his in-laws packing unless he waited for the life insurance money to come in, and it wouldn’t have been fair to Jared’s husband to not put him to rest as soon as possible. So he curbed his bitter words and pushed his pride aside and allowed them to handle the funeral. Jared snorted at the word allowed. As if he’d been in any shape to allow or disallow anything. Jared knew he wasn’t going to Dallas anytime soon. So he did the next best thing.
A few blocks away from Jared’s apartment was a small farmers cum flea market. He’d always found it relaxing to meander aimlessly through the shops and stalls offering their wares, even if he didn’t plan on actually buying anything. He could probably find his way to Misha’s flower shop blindfolded, and he headed there now.
Overhead, the sky was nearly clear of clouds. It was a beautiful autumn day with a nice breeze, and so there were plenty of vendors selling their wares. Jared ignored them as he made his way to the only other place he felt like he belonged anymore.
Jared had found the shop a few months before the death of his husband, and being a romantic at heart, became one of Misha’s regular customers whenever he felt like showering his husband with affection (via floral arrangements). Misha and Jared had been well on the way to becoming fast friends when the tragedy struck. When it happened, Misha offered to provide the funeral flowers at a deeply discounted rate and even carted them all the way to Dallas. The in-laws had been thrilled, and Jared had been grateful.
The bell rang as Jared walked into the shop and inhaled. Most of the flowers in the shop were of a darker hue now; somber colors for the season, but still the shop burst with color and scent. The proprietor, one Misha Collins, stood at the counter where his register sat, hunched over a magazine he seemed to be deeply invested in. On the cover, a picture of a strange-looking blue alien creature seemed to be throwing a peace sign and winking.
Misha didn’t look up right away. Instead, he cocked his head to the side and fixed Jared with an intense stare. Jared stopped in his tracks at the onslaught of that otherworldly blue-eyed gaze, and then he noticed what Misha was wearing.
Misha looked like he’d just stepped out of a vintage photograph from Woodstock. He’d donned an elaborate navy vest embroidered with large yellow, orange and pink flowers over a long linen shirt and faded, bell-bottom jeans. He’d wrapped a leather thong around his head like a headband three times, and tufts of hair stuck up through the bands. Jared had no words for a long minute. If nothing else, it distracted Jared from his depressing thoughts. Who could think about their problems with Misha standing in front of them dressed in that?
“Uh, nice outfit,” Jared finally said, trying not to look as amused as he felt, in case Misha was serious about that outfit. “Where’d you get it?”
“The sixties,” Misha replied, succinctly.
“Well that’s pretty obvious,” Jared said, “but not what I meant. I meant, where’d you find it?”
Misha leveled Jared with a patient stare. “I believe I just answered that,” Misha said with a smirk. Jared arched an eyebrow at him and let the subject drop. Odd yes, but Jared had long since learned to embrace Misha’s quirks.
“These aliens are boring me, Jared,” Misha said, and dropped the magazine down onto the counter. “It’s all the same theories, over and over, and just because they’re authored by different people with different words, they think they’re the next Erich Von Daniken.”
“Who?” Jared asked, completely lost.
“It doesn’t matter,” Misha responded with a wave of his hand. “Here’s a better thought for today anyway. I read this morning, on the internet, a theory about what causes déjà vu. Supposedly there is a parallel universe that exists a mere ten minutes behind us, like an echo. So you just came into my shop, yes? And so, in ten minutes, you will come into my shop again. Well not you, per se, but the you that lives in, um, let’s call it the echo verse. Ten-minute-later-me will say this exact thing to ten-minute-later-you. Now I wonder, are we now-us, or are we ten-minute later-us? And if we are now-us, then why do we even have a word for déjà vu? Wouldn’t that be a concept that only exists in the ten-minute-later world?”
Jared stopped, and thought about it, thrown off his purpose just by the sheer oddness of the question posed. He blinked as he tried to process the concept presented. It was creepy, is what it was. He felt a shiver whisper its way up his back and he looked over his shoulder as if he would see this so-called ten-minute-later-him approaching the flower shop.
“If it is just an echo, then we’d need to come up with déjà vu in our universe before there could be the idea of it there, right? And if that’s true, wouldn’t they be having déjà vu, like, all the time? I- I think we’re now-us, and that we’re screwing with the minds and emotions of ten-minutes-later-us and that’s not very nice of us, Misha.”
Misha grinned, seemingly delighted by Jared’s response. “Or, conversely,” he said, pointing at Jared as he moved out from behind the counter, “Ten-minutes-ahead-us are fucking with us. That’s not very nice of them.”
Jared actually laughed, but it was a reluctant sound. He shook his head and looked around at the various arrangements and suddenly, Misha was all business.
“Anything in particular today?” he asked, and Jared shrugged. He walked slowly around the shop for about a minute, until Misha popped up again with a small bouquet of flowers. As usual, they were just what Jared wanted; perfect. He took them and walked to the register.
“How much for this one, Mish?” he asked, pulling a few dollars and some change out of his pocket.
“How much you got in your hand?” Misha asked with a small, sad smile. Jared squinted at the currency he just pulled out of his jeans pocket.
“Looks like, about two dollars and twenty two cents,” he said.
“Then it’s two dollars and twenty two cents, including tax,” Misha said and took the crumpled bills, one dime, two nickels and two pennies. He dropped it into his register without preamble.
Jared knew the arrangement was worth more, but he also knew that Misha had named his price and wouldn’t take a penny more. He thanked the man and started to leave the shop, turning at the last minute.
“I still haven’t dreamt of him,” Jared said. “What do you think that means?” It was always like this between Jared and Misha, just random conversations that came out of nowhere. Misha smiled sadly.
“I don’t know, Jared. Do you think it means something?”
Jared pinched his lips tightly, not wanting to vocalize what he really thought - that the reason he hadn’t dreamt of his deceased husband was because Jared had failed him. He knew that wasn’t the case - if anything, everyone thought Jared had married below his status; that his husband had leached off of him unforgivably. Still, if Jared hadn’t pushed him to keep a job he hated, then he’d still be here.
“Jared, you’re a good person,” Misha said suddenly, and not for the first time Jared wondered if Misha didn’t have some kind of freaky mind-reading ability, because he did things like this all the time. “You were a good husband. He was lucky to have you. I think the reason you don’t dream about him is because you miss him so much. It might be too much to handle.”
It made sense, in a way, Jared supposed. He nodded silently, not trusting himself to speak. He managed a tight-lipped smile and raised the bouquet in farewell as he left the shop. The door closed behind him with a happy-sounding jingle.
Jared headed toward his destination determinedly. A few more blocks and the buildings gave way to a local park. It was usually greener here, but the trees had turned their leaves to gold, early for this time of year. Jared broke into a light jog, heading towards the back end of the park where it grew a bit wilder and where the hiking trails were. This was the place where he’d shared his first kiss with his husband, so many years before. This was where he’s going to leave the flowers, as silly and sentimental as it might be.
He set them on the ground next to a cedar tree and sat next to it, his back against the trunk of the tree.
“I miss you,” he said, looking at the flowers. He tried to not let the tears well up in his eyes and failed. At least they didn’t spill over- proof that he’d made progress. “I miss you so damn much. I even miss our stupid fights and how much you hated your job and how you had to go in so early it’d still be dark out even in summer. I miss your horrible cooking and your burnt spaghetti. I miss having you breathe next to me at night-“ Jared bit his lip because he couldn’t just sit there and list off all the things he missed about his deceased husband. He’d be there all night, sobbing until the cops showed up to escort the crazy guy spouting nonsense home. He stared at the ground until he was calm - until the craziness in his veins and mind didn’t feel like it was going to physically leak from his pores. He focused on the clumps of dirt and grass on the ground, and when he could breathe again he lifted his head.
Chad was there. He reached out a hand and grasped Jared’s forearm, helping him stand.
“C’mon Jare,” he said. “Let’s go home. Have you even had breakfast yet?”
Jared left the flowers by the tree. He said, “I think I might start looking for a new job next week.”
“That’s great!” Chad said, all exuberance. They both knew it probably wouldn’t happen.
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