Fic: Perennial, pt. 2
Back to part 1
Jared had just closed on the second house in two weeks when his mother called.
“Sunday is your brother’s birthday. You are coming to the house for dinner?”
“I, um, yeah, of course,” he said as he looked through the paperwork for a house he had listed on Maple Street. “I can do Sunday.”
“You sound busy.”
“I’m sorry, Mama. I am.”
“That’s good. I saw you sold another house.”
“Yeah, yeah, I don’t know what it is, but the market is picking up.”
“I should let you go,” she said. “We’ll see you Sunday.”
“Yep, love you, Mama.”
“And I love you, baby.”
He pressed the button on the new Keurig he’d bought for his office and took the steaming cup to his desk.
He had two open houses this weekend to plan and a new commercial property to list. He called the bakery to order cookies for the open houses and made notes on issues the home owners needed to address - litter boxes, laundry … common sense, people!
He worked a bit on the commercial listing and sent an ad to the local newspaper and to the paper in Pikeville.
He took a sip of coffee. Ugh, cold. Wait, lunchtime?
“Jared? You are coming to dinner, aren’t you?”
“Oh! Yes! I’m sorry. I totally lost track of time. I’m on my way!”
“JayRod!”
“Hey, Chad.” He couldn’t help smiling.
“Drinks, Friday at Homer’s.”
“I don’t know.”
“I do. I know. I know you need some drinks.”
“Chad.” His friend wasn’t necessarily wrong.
“What else you got planned?”
“I … I’m just tired. I’m working really hard.”
“Yeah, yeah, all work and no play …”
“I’ll think about it.”
“There is no think; there is only do.”
“That’s not how that …”
“Friday. 7 o’clock. Homer’s. Be there.”
“Great, right?!” Chad leaned in.
“What?!” Jared yelled. There was some loud-ass country music blasting in the bar - some guy rapping about being laid back and swervin’ like George Jones. A haze of smoke already hung in the air.
“It’s great seeing you, man! Haven’t seen you in months!” He slapped Jared on the shoulder.
“Oh! Yeah, great!”
He sat on the sofa with the curtains drawn. The light made his head throb. Although, to be honest, he didn’t open the curtains much these days.
The sound was off on the TV. He watched cars drive in circles at Talladega … or was it Bristol? Whatever.
No more evenings that turned to mornings with Chad and Mike. Too old for that shit.
“Looks like you could use an assistant.”
“Katie! Hey, you here to list that sweet…”
“No, I’m here with a bill.” She dropped a manila envelope on the desk.
“Damn, I am so sorry,” Jared said. He pulled the invoices from the envelope and dug into the draw of his desk for the check book. “I will write you a check right now.”
“Okay.” She sat down in the chair across from him. “So, you’ve been doing well.”
“Yeah, yeah, lots of listings and a few sales,” he said as he wrote out the check.
“Good.” She looked around the tiny, cluttered office. “Got a guy?”
“Um, no.” He glanced up. “I pretty much know everyone around here and …” He shrugged.
“Yeah, that must be a problem.”
“Yeah, I guess. I’m not really looking right now though.” He handed her the check.
“Thanks.” She stood. “Maybe a little travel? Long weekend away?”
“Yeah, I could use a vacation, but I’ve got open houses on weekends and … There just never seems to be time.”
“You know what they say about all work and no play.”
“Yep, I’ve heard that.”
“See ya, Jared.”
“See ya, Katie.”
As Jared put the checkbook away, he noticed an envelope with the name Jensen written on the outside. He pulled it out of the drawer and found it contained almost eighty dollars.
Blackberry cake.
“Huh.”
The truck crawled up the muddy road. The woods were misty. Water dripped from trees made black with rain. Few dead leaves clung to branches.
He wasn’t sure why he was going back to the little blue cabin. He had no client. No listing. What was his excuse?
I see your eyes in my dreams.
It made no sense, but he just couldn’t shake the feeling that meeting Jensen had changed his life.
You haunt me.
It was crazy how his life had changed and yet … what had really changed?
The first thing he noticed was that the hound wasn’t on the porch. There were no chickens in the yard. For a moment, he thought the cabin was truly abandoned, but, no, there were candles in the windows. Pentagrams and little dolls made of stick hung from the porch eave.
Grabbing the paper sack from the passenger seat, he got out of the truck. The caw of a lone crow echoed through the woods.
“Hullo!” he called, but the door didn’t open. There was no movement in the cabin so he unlatched the gate and let himself in. He walked up the soggy path. His footfalls sounded hollow on the porch floor. The screen door rattled on its hinges when he knocked.
After a moment, the inner door opened. Jensen was wearing jeans and a flannel shirt. There were strands of silver in his hair.
“Jensen?”
“What are you doin’ here, Jared?” he asked. He folded his arms and leaned against the door jamb.
“I brought you something.”
Jensen eyed the paper sack. “Why? Someone want to buy my farm?”
“No! I just thought … I just wanted to see you.”
“Well then, come on.” Jensen pushed the screen door open.
The cabin was cozy warm from the woodstove. The old hound lay curled beside it. The mutt wagged its tail at his feet.
“Hey, Shep,” Jared said. He set the sack on the table and pulled out a six-pack of cider.
“Pumpkin cider,” he said, “and kettle corn.”
Jensen got a bottle opener.
“Be careful…”
The bottle spit and foamed when Jensen pried the cap off.
“Sorry, bumpy road,” Jared said. He opened the bag of kettle corn and offered the open end to Jensen.
Jensen took a handful and sat down at the table. He chewed thoughtfully.
“You like it?” Jared sat down opposite him.
Jensen nodded. “Yep.”
Jared smiled. “How’s the cider?”
Jensen took a swig. “I like it.”
Jared smiled so wide it almost hurt. He couldn’t have explained why pleasing Jensen made him so happy.
“So what’ve you been up to?” Jensen asked.
Jared shrugged. “Working.”
Jensen’s eyebrows rose. “And how’s that going?”
“Good. Real good. I’m selling houses and businesses. Making money. It’s … good.”
Jensen nodded. “Good.” He closed the bag of kettle corn. “I was just about to have supper.”
“That’s what that great smell is, huh?”
“Does that mean you’re hungry?” Jensen rose and went to the stove.
“I could eat.”
“I’ll bet.” Jensen pulled a skillet of cornbread from the oven and set it next to a pot on
the stove.
Jared admired his broad shoulders and sturdy bowed legs. Still, he wondered about the silver hairs that he was sure had not been there a few months ago.
Jensen set a plate of cornbread wedges on the table and got a jar of strawberry preserves from the refrigerator.
“Mm, cornbread,” Jared said.
Jensen slapped his hand as he reached for a piece.
“Patience.”
Jensen spooned up two bowls of soup and set one before Jared. He put saucers out for the cornbread.
The soup was thick with root vegetables, squash, and game. Although, seasoned well with herbs, it was still a little bland for his taste.
“This is amazing,” he said.
Jensen gave him an even look. “Thank you.” He raised his cider bottle in toast, and Jared clinked his. They ate in silence for a time.
“So, have you bought yourself a house?” Jensen asked.
“No.” Jared spread preserves thickly on to a wedge of cornbread. “I haven’t.”
“I thought you wanted a house.”
“I did. I do. I’ve just been so busy at work.”
“I see. Sort of like the cobblers children not having shoes.”
Jared sighed. “Yeah, I guess.”
Jensen pushed his empty bowl away and leaned back. “So, what brought you up the mountain today?”
Jared thought of the money he’d found in the envelope. “I just wanted to see you, I guess.”
“Well, I’m flattered.” Jensen raised his bottle to his lips and drained it. He rose and began to clear the table.
Jared picked at the label on his bottle as Jensen put the soup and remaining cider into the refrigerator.
“You should go.”
“We could have another drink,” Jared said.
“It’s getting late, and you need to get down the mountain before dark.” He stood at the door.
Jared rose. “Jensen.”
“Do you know what day it is, Jared?”
“Day?”
Jensen smiled. “It’s Halloween. Go home.”
But Jared hovered just inches from Jensen. He brushed the sliver strands from Jensen’s forehead. There were things he wanted to know but didn’t know how to ask.
Jensen leaned up, offering his mouth. Jared kissed him with just a strong press of lips. Jensen’s biceps were firm under his hands, and Jensen’s lips parted for a moment before he pulled away. He opened the door.
“Be safe,” he said.
“Yeah,” Jared replied. He stepped onto the porch and heard the door shut behind him. “You too.”
*****
Online shopping was easy. See something you like and click. It’s yours. He shook the box and tried to guess or remember what might be inside. He stacked it on top of the bureau with the others.
“Jared, dude! Homer’s, eight o’clock on Friday. Be there.”
“This is the McKenna house. It’s a classic Arts and Crafts home,” Jared led the young couple into the front hall. “As you can see, it’s all original wood trim, never been painted except the kitchen and bathroom. The floors are original oak as well.”
“Oh, look at the bookcases,” the young woman, Molly of the ginger hair, said. Built-in bookcases flanked the fireplace. “And the tiles!” She stroked the dark green tiles that fronted the fireplace.
“You’ll find more built-ins in the hallway, the bathroom, and at the foot of the stairs,” Jared said. “It is in remarkable condition too. The roof is just three years old, and a high-efficiency gas furnace was added just a few years ago.”
“So what are the negatives?” the husband, Justin, asked. He stood in the dining room gazing up at the coffered ceiling.
Jared sighed. “Well, not everyone appreciates vintage. Some want open floor plans and great rooms and whirlpool tubs.”
“I love vintage!” Molly said.
“Me too!” Jared said. “I’ve considered buying it myself.
“No!” Molly said. “Don’t tell me we’re going to have a bidding war with our own realtor.”
Jared chuckled. “Nah, it’s more house than I need.” But was it? Wasn’t this exactly what he’d dreamed of?
“What the fuck, man? We missed you on Friday. Hey, you okay?”
The sheets were wrapped around his legs, and they just became more twisted when he rolled over.
He stared at the ceiling.
He should get up.
He should wash the bedding.
He rolled back over and pulled the pillow over his head.
“Honey, it’s Mama. You missed dinner on Sunday. Call me.”
There was the envelope marked Jensen. He took the remaining cash from it and placed it in his wallet.
“Jared, honey, I’m worried. Please call.”
He tore through the boxes on the bureau until he found the one with the box of Godiva chocolates. Then, he left them on the kitchen table and went to watch the race with a beer in his hand.
Feeling as though he’d drank a couple espressos, he paced his apartment. He had to move, had to get out. There was somewhere he needed to be. He should have bought a house. He could have a dog and more room to pace.
The sky was heavy with clouds and there was a damp chill in the air as he headed up the mountain. He’d awakened to a dusting of snow on the ground.
The woods were a pen and ink drawing.
He was met by silence when he got out of his truck in front of Jensen’s cabin. The cawing of a crow startled him. It settled on the fence beside the cemetery, and was joined by another and another. Soon, the fence and a nearby redbud tree were filled with them.
“Hello,” he said and they quieted.
Again, there were candles in the windows and a bough of evergreen hung above the door.
As he climbed the steps, the door opened. A silver-haired man wrapped in a plaid blanket stood on the opposite side of the screen door.
Jared squinted. “Jensen?”
“Go home, Jared. Come back in the spring.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Go home.”
“No!” Jared pulled on the screen door, but Jensen held it closed from the inside.
“It isn’t up to you.” Jensen’s voice was deeper as were the lines around his eyes.
“But I brought you a gift.”
Jensen smiled. “I’m not obligated to accept your gift.”
“Please, Jensen, I have to talk to you. My life is a mess.”
“I can’t fix your life.”
“Please, you’re the only one I can talk to.”
“Why? You have family and friends.”
“I don’t know.” Jared held up the sack. “Please, you’re letting all the heat out. We can have a drink and talk.”
Jensen turned away and walked deeper into the cabin.
Jared opened the screen door and shut the inner door to keep out the cold.
“Take off your shoes,” Jensen said from the kitchen.
Jared toed off his shoes and shucked his jacket, which he hung on a coat hook near the door. He set the sack on drainboard of the sink.
“I brought you chocolate. Godiva,” he said as he drew the box from the sack. “And bourbon. Blanton’s.”
“How thoughtful,” Jensen said. He didn’t sound pleased, but he was already selecting a chocolate.
Jared took two jelly jars down from a shelf over the sink and poured them each a drink.
“Let’s go sit by the stove,” Jensen said. He took the box of chocolates with him.
Jared settled himself in one of the chairs and stretched his legs out in front of him. The hound’s bed was beside him and he reached down to rub the dog’s head.
“What’s this one’s name?” he asked.
“That’s Blossom,” Jensen said. “She’s an old crone, but she’s got a soft life.”
Shep curled up on the rug at Jensen’s feet.
“Where’s your cat?”
“Sturgill? He’s over on the bed. There’s a couple more somewhere outside. They’ll come in before bedtime.”
Jared nodded. He had felt desperate to talk to Jensen, but now, he just wanted to sit and sip bourbon. Jensen didn’t press him.
“Do you ever get lonely up here by yourself?”
“I’m not really alone,” Jensen said. “I’ve got all the animals and the occasional visitor.” He smiled.
“I get lonely,” Jared said. The words were a surprise to him, but he felt they were true.
“You wanted money and a house,” Jensen said. “You were making money last time we talked. Did you get a house?”
Jared shook his head. “No, and that’s funny because the perfect house came on the market.”
“Why didn’t you buy it?”
“I don’t know,” Jared admitted. “I told myself that it was more room than I needed, but people usually buy for the future, right? Like, anticipating …”
“A partner? A family?”
“Yeah, I guess so.” Jared stared into the empty glass.
Jensen rose and took it from him. He poured them each another glass and handed Jared’s glass back to him.
“I shouldn’t.” Jared leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “I should go.” But he didn’t get up.
“You should stay,” Jensen said. “It’s gotten dark out and the road is treacherous.” Jensen stood over him and held out his hand. Jared took it and stood. Jensen pulled him close. “You can stay. Tonight.”
Jared pulled him in tight and kissed his temple. “You smell so good.”
Jensen chuckled and led him to the bed, peeling off his flannel and urging Jared to undress. Sturgill leapt down as Jensen turned the covers back. He pulled Jared down beside him.
Jared couldn’t explain how right it felt to hold Jensen in his arms. It felt familiar. He had laid with other men, but it didn’t feel like that. It felt and smelled and tasted like he had been here with Jensen before.
Jensen was a revelation - every kiss and touch, the way he moved and moaned, the way he surrendered while being in complete control.
The old bed was small for two men their size, but Jared didn’t mind Jensen falling asleep wrapped around him. He hadn’t felt so comfortable, so content in ages.
Jared awoke to the smell of coffee. Jensen was waving the cup near his face. Jared grinned, took the cup, and reached for Jensen.
“I’ve got to take the biscuits out of the oven.” Jensen evaded his grasp and went back to the kitchen.
The woodstove kept the cabin plenty warm. A trio of cats - a calico and a tortoise shell had joined Sturgill - were stretched out on the rug nearby.
Jared took a drink of coffee and turned the covers back. Setting the coffee aside, he pulled on his clothes. Jensen was wearing plaid flannel pajama bottoms and gray henley. Jared walked up behind Jensen, who was frying eggs, and kissed the nape of his neck.
“How do you like your eggs?” hJensen asked.
“Over easy.”
“That sounds about right.”
“Hey now!” Jared laughed.
Jensen scooped three eggs onto a plate and handed it to Jared.
“There’s pepper on the table.”
Biscuits were piled in a dish alongside a butter dish and jar of sorghum.
“There’s jam if you prefer.”
“No! I love sorghum.” There was nothing quite like the sweet-sour taste of the thick, dark syrup. Jared scooped a lump of butter onto his plate and mixed a good dollop of sorghum into it. He spread the concoction on half of a hot biscuit. The biscuit was melt-in-your-mouth tender.
“Mmmm!”
Jensen grinned. “You do like your food, don’t you?”
“Yep.” Jared laughed. “Always have.”
Not through lack of trying, Jared and Jensen did not eat all the biscuits. Jensen wrapped the remaining ones up in wax paper and set them on the stove.
Jared dried dishes as Jensen washed up. They worked together with little said. It was comfortable, but Jared knew that he was going to have to leave soon.
“This has been great,” he said as he hung the dishtowel from a hook by the sink. He sat down in a kitchen chair to put his shoes on.
Jensen nodded. “Yeah.”
Jared thought he sounded sad. “Maybe, next weekend …”
Jensen put his fingertips to Jared’s lips. “No.”
Jared rose and ran his fingers through Jensen’s silver hair. “I don’t understand.”
Jensen took Jared’s hand and kissed his knuckles “Shhhh.” Jensen closed his eyes.
“When I first met you, I’d have sworn you were younger than me.”
Jensen nuzzled his hand like a cat.
“How can you age that way? Will it stop?” His voice shook. “What are you?”
Jensen looked up. “I’m perennial.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Come back in the spring.” He handed Jared his jacket.
“No, I don’t want to leave you. Not like this.”
“But you must.” Jensen stepped away from him.
“Jensen, please …” But he found himself on the porch.
“Spring isn’t so far away,” Jensen said before shutting the door.
*****
Jared cried. That much he remembered, not at first, but in dreams. He drove down the winding mountain road with hot tears cooling on his cheeks. Fat snowflakes drifted from the sky. Spring seemed very far away.
The Bears were playing Green Bay at Soldiers Field. It was last quarter. Bears were down by seven. The tears came. Sudden and harsh. He sobbed as he had when his dog was killed by a car when he was ten.
He was sure for a good two hours that Jensen had died. That was the only explanation for his grief. He talked himself out of it. He wasn’t psychic after all. He had to get out of the apartment. He went for a walk to shake off the feeling.
That was perhaps the worst but not last crying jag.
He found it more and more difficult to stay in. He tried to throw himself back into life, but never knowing when the tears would come made him nervous.
His mother caught him crying in the laundry room one Sunday.
“Honey, what is it?” she asked.
He swiped at his eyes and shook his head. “Nothing.”
“Now, Jared, you don’t cry over nothing.”
“No, honestly, Mama, I don’t know. I just … have these spells. I’ll be fine in just a minute.” It wasn’t a lie. He couldn’t think of thing that would make him cry that way.
She frowned. “Maybe you should talk to someone, honey.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Maybe.”
In dreams he saw smiling green eyes. Pale freckled skin. He tasted lips redolent of bourbon. Seeking hands.
He’d awake with yearning like he’d never known and that he couldn’t name.
“So what’s his name?” Chad asked.
“What? Who?” Jared asked.
Chad rolled his eyes. “Come on! You are obviously thinking of someone, and it ain’t your mama.”
“Shut up.” Jared took a drink of beer. He’d usually give Chad a hard time about now, but he didn’t have it in him. “’scuse me.” He got up and headed for the restroom. He could feel it coming. He shut himself in a stall and cried.
And then one day, the sun shone, birds sang, and green shoots pushed up through the soil.
There were merely buds on the trees of the woods, but forest floor had awakened in green.
On the passenger seat beside him was a cardboard box with holes cut in the sides. The incessant sound of cheeping accompanied his drive.
He stopped outside Jensen’s gate and lifted the box carefully in his arms as he got out.
The boy on the porch couldn’t have been more than fourteen.
“Jared! I’ve been waiting all morning!” he called and rushed to the gate where bright blue morning glories bloomed. He unlatched it and swung it open. “What have you brought me?”
Jared held out the box so Jensen could open the flaps on top. The boy’s eyes lit up at the sight of the fluffy yellow chicks. He took the box from Jared and carried it to where his hens were scratching and pecking at the ground.
He knelt and set the box on the ground. He then tipped it slowly up and the chicks rolled out onto the ground. They soon found their feet and began searching for food.
Jensen grinned at Jared. “They are wonderful.”
“They’re worthy?” Jared asked.
Jensen laughed. “Yes.”
They watched the hens and chicks for a few moments.
“All right, ladies, keep an eye on them,” Jensen said. He rose and went to Jared. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Chicks seemed like a good Spring gift.”
“A fine gift,” Jensen said. His cheeks were smooth with barely a hint of a beard. His eyes were unlined and his lips plump.
Jared swallowed the lump in his throat. “You have a lot to explain, you know.”
“Yes.” Jensen looked quite serious. “I suppose I do. I told you I would, didn’t I?”
“You did.”
Jensen opened the gate. “Come on, then.”
He went out the gate and rounded Jared’s truck. Jared followed him to the culvert. They began to follow the stream uphill, climbing steadily along the rocky creek bed. After a quarter of a mile or so, they came to a rock wall from which the water emerged.
“Anyone who drinks from this spring will age with the seasons but revive in the Spring when they drink again.” Jensen knelt beside the spring.
If Jared had not seen Jensen age and return to being a boy himself, he would have laughed.
“So it makes you … perennial.” He knelt and trailed his fingers in the chilly water.
“Yes.”
“So you first drank from the spring how long ago?”
“Not me,” Jensen said. “I am not of a human mother born. I am the spirit of this spring.”
Things suddenly slotted together. “You’re fae?” His great-granny had told him of the fae when he was a boy -- how they distort time and memory, of their aversion to salt, and their fondness for gifts. “Holy shit. No, this is crazy. Fairy tales aren’t real.”
Jensen placed his fingertips on Jared’s forehead, and Jared saw. He saw it all -- all the living things of the woods from the mushrooms and snails, the fiddlehead ferns and bluebells, the copperhead snakes on the forest floor to white tail deer and rabbits, the black bear and elk in the brush, to the blue jays and crows, hawks and buzzards in the towering trees. All of it was preternaturally clear and bathed in a brilliant blue-green light. Of course, there were no electric lines here, no LP gas or public utilities of any kind, only the old road.
“How does your refrigerator work?” he blurted out.
Jensen laughed. “I make it work.”
Jared shook his head. “What about the Ackles?”
“They were just humans who lived here a long time ago.”
“Just humans. What am I then?” Jared’s hands curled into fists, and he rose to his full height. “Why should I trust you now? You fucked with me! You made me forget you. I thought I was going crazy!”
Jensen grabbed Jared’s pant leg. “I tried to help you! You wanted money, and I helped you make money. You wanted a house, and I tried …” Jensen’s big eyes beseeched him to understand. “I didn’t realize until the last time you were here that those weren’t the things you wanted. That’s why I told you to come back.”
“Why couldn’t you have told me the truth then? When you knew that what I wanted was you?” Jared shook his head. “No, I have to think about this.” He turned away and started back down the hill.
“And I want you! That’s why I’m showing you the spring.”
He stopped and looked back. “No, it doesn’t make sense. That water runs down the mountain and into Big Bend Creek and then the river. Why wouldn’t everyone be perennial?”
“You have to drink from the source.” Jensen sighed. “And … do you know what day it is?”
“It’s Saturday.”
“It’s the vernal equinox. It’s Spring.”
“So if I’m going to drink…”
“It has to be today.”
There was more laughter in the woods that Spring. Boys’ laughter rang out across the hillside.
They planted seeds and gathered eggs.
They left gifts for the crows, and the crows were pleased.
Soft rain fell, the sun shone down, and the garden flourished.
“Will they miss me?” the taller boy asked as they tended the garden. His brows were drawn down as he thought of his family, of Chad and Mike, even Katie.
“No, they don’t remember you,” his best friend and love replied.
They worked quietly for moment.
“That’s good. I wouldn’t want them to be sad.”
“No,” the fairy said as he picked lettuce. And I wouldn’t want them to come looking for you. “It’s for the best.”
The truck had been driven farther up the road and pushed into a sink hole. The little farm looked much as it had almost a year earlier when a young real estate agent came with an offer.
The boy brought his pail to the fairy. It was nearly full of red berries.
“Still bringing me gifts?” The sun caught in his green eyes, and Jared’s heart swooned. “We’ll have strawberry shortcake at dinner.”
They ate well.
They played like children.
They worked like men.
They loved.
And the mountain was content.
-30-
Reccs:
Outsiders; hulu series
Hellier; paranormal series on YouTube and Amazon Prime
Old Gods of Appalachia; folklore podcast, YouTube and other sources
Jared had just closed on the second house in two weeks when his mother called.
“Sunday is your brother’s birthday. You are coming to the house for dinner?”
“I, um, yeah, of course,” he said as he looked through the paperwork for a house he had listed on Maple Street. “I can do Sunday.”
“You sound busy.”
“I’m sorry, Mama. I am.”
“That’s good. I saw you sold another house.”
“Yeah, yeah, I don’t know what it is, but the market is picking up.”
“I should let you go,” she said. “We’ll see you Sunday.”
“Yep, love you, Mama.”
“And I love you, baby.”
He pressed the button on the new Keurig he’d bought for his office and took the steaming cup to his desk.
He had two open houses this weekend to plan and a new commercial property to list. He called the bakery to order cookies for the open houses and made notes on issues the home owners needed to address - litter boxes, laundry … common sense, people!
He worked a bit on the commercial listing and sent an ad to the local newspaper and to the paper in Pikeville.
He took a sip of coffee. Ugh, cold. Wait, lunchtime?
“Jared? You are coming to dinner, aren’t you?”
“Oh! Yes! I’m sorry. I totally lost track of time. I’m on my way!”
“JayRod!”
“Hey, Chad.” He couldn’t help smiling.
“Drinks, Friday at Homer’s.”
“I don’t know.”
“I do. I know. I know you need some drinks.”
“Chad.” His friend wasn’t necessarily wrong.
“What else you got planned?”
“I … I’m just tired. I’m working really hard.”
“Yeah, yeah, all work and no play …”
“I’ll think about it.”
“There is no think; there is only do.”
“That’s not how that …”
“Friday. 7 o’clock. Homer’s. Be there.”
“Great, right?!” Chad leaned in.
“What?!” Jared yelled. There was some loud-ass country music blasting in the bar - some guy rapping about being laid back and swervin’ like George Jones. A haze of smoke already hung in the air.
“It’s great seeing you, man! Haven’t seen you in months!” He slapped Jared on the shoulder.
“Oh! Yeah, great!”
He sat on the sofa with the curtains drawn. The light made his head throb. Although, to be honest, he didn’t open the curtains much these days.
The sound was off on the TV. He watched cars drive in circles at Talladega … or was it Bristol? Whatever.
No more evenings that turned to mornings with Chad and Mike. Too old for that shit.
“Looks like you could use an assistant.”
“Katie! Hey, you here to list that sweet…”
“No, I’m here with a bill.” She dropped a manila envelope on the desk.
“Damn, I am so sorry,” Jared said. He pulled the invoices from the envelope and dug into the draw of his desk for the check book. “I will write you a check right now.”
“Okay.” She sat down in the chair across from him. “So, you’ve been doing well.”
“Yeah, yeah, lots of listings and a few sales,” he said as he wrote out the check.
“Good.” She looked around the tiny, cluttered office. “Got a guy?”
“Um, no.” He glanced up. “I pretty much know everyone around here and …” He shrugged.
“Yeah, that must be a problem.”
“Yeah, I guess. I’m not really looking right now though.” He handed her the check.
“Thanks.” She stood. “Maybe a little travel? Long weekend away?”
“Yeah, I could use a vacation, but I’ve got open houses on weekends and … There just never seems to be time.”
“You know what they say about all work and no play.”
“Yep, I’ve heard that.”
“See ya, Jared.”
“See ya, Katie.”
As Jared put the checkbook away, he noticed an envelope with the name Jensen written on the outside. He pulled it out of the drawer and found it contained almost eighty dollars.
Blackberry cake.
“Huh.”
The truck crawled up the muddy road. The woods were misty. Water dripped from trees made black with rain. Few dead leaves clung to branches.
He wasn’t sure why he was going back to the little blue cabin. He had no client. No listing. What was his excuse?
I see your eyes in my dreams.
It made no sense, but he just couldn’t shake the feeling that meeting Jensen had changed his life.
You haunt me.
It was crazy how his life had changed and yet … what had really changed?
The first thing he noticed was that the hound wasn’t on the porch. There were no chickens in the yard. For a moment, he thought the cabin was truly abandoned, but, no, there were candles in the windows. Pentagrams and little dolls made of stick hung from the porch eave.
Grabbing the paper sack from the passenger seat, he got out of the truck. The caw of a lone crow echoed through the woods.
“Hullo!” he called, but the door didn’t open. There was no movement in the cabin so he unlatched the gate and let himself in. He walked up the soggy path. His footfalls sounded hollow on the porch floor. The screen door rattled on its hinges when he knocked.
After a moment, the inner door opened. Jensen was wearing jeans and a flannel shirt. There were strands of silver in his hair.
“Jensen?”
“What are you doin’ here, Jared?” he asked. He folded his arms and leaned against the door jamb.
“I brought you something.”
Jensen eyed the paper sack. “Why? Someone want to buy my farm?”
“No! I just thought … I just wanted to see you.”
“Well then, come on.” Jensen pushed the screen door open.
The cabin was cozy warm from the woodstove. The old hound lay curled beside it. The mutt wagged its tail at his feet.
“Hey, Shep,” Jared said. He set the sack on the table and pulled out a six-pack of cider.
“Pumpkin cider,” he said, “and kettle corn.”
Jensen got a bottle opener.
“Be careful…”
The bottle spit and foamed when Jensen pried the cap off.
“Sorry, bumpy road,” Jared said. He opened the bag of kettle corn and offered the open end to Jensen.
Jensen took a handful and sat down at the table. He chewed thoughtfully.
“You like it?” Jared sat down opposite him.
Jensen nodded. “Yep.”
Jared smiled. “How’s the cider?”
Jensen took a swig. “I like it.”
Jared smiled so wide it almost hurt. He couldn’t have explained why pleasing Jensen made him so happy.
“So what’ve you been up to?” Jensen asked.
Jared shrugged. “Working.”
Jensen’s eyebrows rose. “And how’s that going?”
“Good. Real good. I’m selling houses and businesses. Making money. It’s … good.”
Jensen nodded. “Good.” He closed the bag of kettle corn. “I was just about to have supper.”
“That’s what that great smell is, huh?”
“Does that mean you’re hungry?” Jensen rose and went to the stove.
“I could eat.”
“I’ll bet.” Jensen pulled a skillet of cornbread from the oven and set it next to a pot on
the stove.
Jared admired his broad shoulders and sturdy bowed legs. Still, he wondered about the silver hairs that he was sure had not been there a few months ago.
Jensen set a plate of cornbread wedges on the table and got a jar of strawberry preserves from the refrigerator.
“Mm, cornbread,” Jared said.
Jensen slapped his hand as he reached for a piece.
“Patience.”
Jensen spooned up two bowls of soup and set one before Jared. He put saucers out for the cornbread.
The soup was thick with root vegetables, squash, and game. Although, seasoned well with herbs, it was still a little bland for his taste.
“This is amazing,” he said.
Jensen gave him an even look. “Thank you.” He raised his cider bottle in toast, and Jared clinked his. They ate in silence for a time.
“So, have you bought yourself a house?” Jensen asked.
“No.” Jared spread preserves thickly on to a wedge of cornbread. “I haven’t.”
“I thought you wanted a house.”
“I did. I do. I’ve just been so busy at work.”
“I see. Sort of like the cobblers children not having shoes.”
Jared sighed. “Yeah, I guess.”
Jensen pushed his empty bowl away and leaned back. “So, what brought you up the mountain today?”
Jared thought of the money he’d found in the envelope. “I just wanted to see you, I guess.”
“Well, I’m flattered.” Jensen raised his bottle to his lips and drained it. He rose and began to clear the table.
Jared picked at the label on his bottle as Jensen put the soup and remaining cider into the refrigerator.
“You should go.”
“We could have another drink,” Jared said.
“It’s getting late, and you need to get down the mountain before dark.” He stood at the door.
Jared rose. “Jensen.”
“Do you know what day it is, Jared?”
“Day?”
Jensen smiled. “It’s Halloween. Go home.”
But Jared hovered just inches from Jensen. He brushed the sliver strands from Jensen’s forehead. There were things he wanted to know but didn’t know how to ask.
Jensen leaned up, offering his mouth. Jared kissed him with just a strong press of lips. Jensen’s biceps were firm under his hands, and Jensen’s lips parted for a moment before he pulled away. He opened the door.
“Be safe,” he said.
“Yeah,” Jared replied. He stepped onto the porch and heard the door shut behind him. “You too.”
*****
Online shopping was easy. See something you like and click. It’s yours. He shook the box and tried to guess or remember what might be inside. He stacked it on top of the bureau with the others.
“Jared, dude! Homer’s, eight o’clock on Friday. Be there.”
“This is the McKenna house. It’s a classic Arts and Crafts home,” Jared led the young couple into the front hall. “As you can see, it’s all original wood trim, never been painted except the kitchen and bathroom. The floors are original oak as well.”
“Oh, look at the bookcases,” the young woman, Molly of the ginger hair, said. Built-in bookcases flanked the fireplace. “And the tiles!” She stroked the dark green tiles that fronted the fireplace.
“You’ll find more built-ins in the hallway, the bathroom, and at the foot of the stairs,” Jared said. “It is in remarkable condition too. The roof is just three years old, and a high-efficiency gas furnace was added just a few years ago.”
“So what are the negatives?” the husband, Justin, asked. He stood in the dining room gazing up at the coffered ceiling.
Jared sighed. “Well, not everyone appreciates vintage. Some want open floor plans and great rooms and whirlpool tubs.”
“I love vintage!” Molly said.
“Me too!” Jared said. “I’ve considered buying it myself.
“No!” Molly said. “Don’t tell me we’re going to have a bidding war with our own realtor.”
Jared chuckled. “Nah, it’s more house than I need.” But was it? Wasn’t this exactly what he’d dreamed of?
“What the fuck, man? We missed you on Friday. Hey, you okay?”
The sheets were wrapped around his legs, and they just became more twisted when he rolled over.
He stared at the ceiling.
He should get up.
He should wash the bedding.
He rolled back over and pulled the pillow over his head.
“Honey, it’s Mama. You missed dinner on Sunday. Call me.”
There was the envelope marked Jensen. He took the remaining cash from it and placed it in his wallet.
“Jared, honey, I’m worried. Please call.”
He tore through the boxes on the bureau until he found the one with the box of Godiva chocolates. Then, he left them on the kitchen table and went to watch the race with a beer in his hand.
Feeling as though he’d drank a couple espressos, he paced his apartment. He had to move, had to get out. There was somewhere he needed to be. He should have bought a house. He could have a dog and more room to pace.
The sky was heavy with clouds and there was a damp chill in the air as he headed up the mountain. He’d awakened to a dusting of snow on the ground.
The woods were a pen and ink drawing.
He was met by silence when he got out of his truck in front of Jensen’s cabin. The cawing of a crow startled him. It settled on the fence beside the cemetery, and was joined by another and another. Soon, the fence and a nearby redbud tree were filled with them.
“Hello,” he said and they quieted.
Again, there were candles in the windows and a bough of evergreen hung above the door.
As he climbed the steps, the door opened. A silver-haired man wrapped in a plaid blanket stood on the opposite side of the screen door.
Jared squinted. “Jensen?”
“Go home, Jared. Come back in the spring.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Go home.”
“No!” Jared pulled on the screen door, but Jensen held it closed from the inside.
“It isn’t up to you.” Jensen’s voice was deeper as were the lines around his eyes.
“But I brought you a gift.”
Jensen smiled. “I’m not obligated to accept your gift.”
“Please, Jensen, I have to talk to you. My life is a mess.”
“I can’t fix your life.”
“Please, you’re the only one I can talk to.”
“Why? You have family and friends.”
“I don’t know.” Jared held up the sack. “Please, you’re letting all the heat out. We can have a drink and talk.”
Jensen turned away and walked deeper into the cabin.
Jared opened the screen door and shut the inner door to keep out the cold.
“Take off your shoes,” Jensen said from the kitchen.
Jared toed off his shoes and shucked his jacket, which he hung on a coat hook near the door. He set the sack on drainboard of the sink.
“I brought you chocolate. Godiva,” he said as he drew the box from the sack. “And bourbon. Blanton’s.”
“How thoughtful,” Jensen said. He didn’t sound pleased, but he was already selecting a chocolate.
Jared took two jelly jars down from a shelf over the sink and poured them each a drink.
“Let’s go sit by the stove,” Jensen said. He took the box of chocolates with him.
Jared settled himself in one of the chairs and stretched his legs out in front of him. The hound’s bed was beside him and he reached down to rub the dog’s head.
“What’s this one’s name?” he asked.
“That’s Blossom,” Jensen said. “She’s an old crone, but she’s got a soft life.”
Shep curled up on the rug at Jensen’s feet.
“Where’s your cat?”
“Sturgill? He’s over on the bed. There’s a couple more somewhere outside. They’ll come in before bedtime.”
Jared nodded. He had felt desperate to talk to Jensen, but now, he just wanted to sit and sip bourbon. Jensen didn’t press him.
“Do you ever get lonely up here by yourself?”
“I’m not really alone,” Jensen said. “I’ve got all the animals and the occasional visitor.” He smiled.
“I get lonely,” Jared said. The words were a surprise to him, but he felt they were true.
“You wanted money and a house,” Jensen said. “You were making money last time we talked. Did you get a house?”
Jared shook his head. “No, and that’s funny because the perfect house came on the market.”
“Why didn’t you buy it?”
“I don’t know,” Jared admitted. “I told myself that it was more room than I needed, but people usually buy for the future, right? Like, anticipating …”
“A partner? A family?”
“Yeah, I guess so.” Jared stared into the empty glass.
Jensen rose and took it from him. He poured them each another glass and handed Jared’s glass back to him.
“I shouldn’t.” Jared leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “I should go.” But he didn’t get up.
“You should stay,” Jensen said. “It’s gotten dark out and the road is treacherous.” Jensen stood over him and held out his hand. Jared took it and stood. Jensen pulled him close. “You can stay. Tonight.”
Jared pulled him in tight and kissed his temple. “You smell so good.”
Jensen chuckled and led him to the bed, peeling off his flannel and urging Jared to undress. Sturgill leapt down as Jensen turned the covers back. He pulled Jared down beside him.
Jared couldn’t explain how right it felt to hold Jensen in his arms. It felt familiar. He had laid with other men, but it didn’t feel like that. It felt and smelled and tasted like he had been here with Jensen before.
Jensen was a revelation - every kiss and touch, the way he moved and moaned, the way he surrendered while being in complete control.
The old bed was small for two men their size, but Jared didn’t mind Jensen falling asleep wrapped around him. He hadn’t felt so comfortable, so content in ages.
Jared awoke to the smell of coffee. Jensen was waving the cup near his face. Jared grinned, took the cup, and reached for Jensen.
“I’ve got to take the biscuits out of the oven.” Jensen evaded his grasp and went back to the kitchen.
The woodstove kept the cabin plenty warm. A trio of cats - a calico and a tortoise shell had joined Sturgill - were stretched out on the rug nearby.
Jared took a drink of coffee and turned the covers back. Setting the coffee aside, he pulled on his clothes. Jensen was wearing plaid flannel pajama bottoms and gray henley. Jared walked up behind Jensen, who was frying eggs, and kissed the nape of his neck.
“How do you like your eggs?” hJensen asked.
“Over easy.”
“That sounds about right.”
“Hey now!” Jared laughed.
Jensen scooped three eggs onto a plate and handed it to Jared.
“There’s pepper on the table.”
Biscuits were piled in a dish alongside a butter dish and jar of sorghum.
“There’s jam if you prefer.”
“No! I love sorghum.” There was nothing quite like the sweet-sour taste of the thick, dark syrup. Jared scooped a lump of butter onto his plate and mixed a good dollop of sorghum into it. He spread the concoction on half of a hot biscuit. The biscuit was melt-in-your-mouth tender.
“Mmmm!”
Jensen grinned. “You do like your food, don’t you?”
“Yep.” Jared laughed. “Always have.”
Not through lack of trying, Jared and Jensen did not eat all the biscuits. Jensen wrapped the remaining ones up in wax paper and set them on the stove.
Jared dried dishes as Jensen washed up. They worked together with little said. It was comfortable, but Jared knew that he was going to have to leave soon.
“This has been great,” he said as he hung the dishtowel from a hook by the sink. He sat down in a kitchen chair to put his shoes on.
Jensen nodded. “Yeah.”
Jared thought he sounded sad. “Maybe, next weekend …”
Jensen put his fingertips to Jared’s lips. “No.”
Jared rose and ran his fingers through Jensen’s silver hair. “I don’t understand.”
Jensen took Jared’s hand and kissed his knuckles “Shhhh.” Jensen closed his eyes.
“When I first met you, I’d have sworn you were younger than me.”
Jensen nuzzled his hand like a cat.
“How can you age that way? Will it stop?” His voice shook. “What are you?”
Jensen looked up. “I’m perennial.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Come back in the spring.” He handed Jared his jacket.
“No, I don’t want to leave you. Not like this.”
“But you must.” Jensen stepped away from him.
“Jensen, please …” But he found himself on the porch.
“Spring isn’t so far away,” Jensen said before shutting the door.
*****
Jared cried. That much he remembered, not at first, but in dreams. He drove down the winding mountain road with hot tears cooling on his cheeks. Fat snowflakes drifted from the sky. Spring seemed very far away.
The Bears were playing Green Bay at Soldiers Field. It was last quarter. Bears were down by seven. The tears came. Sudden and harsh. He sobbed as he had when his dog was killed by a car when he was ten.
He was sure for a good two hours that Jensen had died. That was the only explanation for his grief. He talked himself out of it. He wasn’t psychic after all. He had to get out of the apartment. He went for a walk to shake off the feeling.
That was perhaps the worst but not last crying jag.
He found it more and more difficult to stay in. He tried to throw himself back into life, but never knowing when the tears would come made him nervous.
His mother caught him crying in the laundry room one Sunday.
“Honey, what is it?” she asked.
He swiped at his eyes and shook his head. “Nothing.”
“Now, Jared, you don’t cry over nothing.”
“No, honestly, Mama, I don’t know. I just … have these spells. I’ll be fine in just a minute.” It wasn’t a lie. He couldn’t think of thing that would make him cry that way.
She frowned. “Maybe you should talk to someone, honey.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Maybe.”
In dreams he saw smiling green eyes. Pale freckled skin. He tasted lips redolent of bourbon. Seeking hands.
He’d awake with yearning like he’d never known and that he couldn’t name.
“So what’s his name?” Chad asked.
“What? Who?” Jared asked.
Chad rolled his eyes. “Come on! You are obviously thinking of someone, and it ain’t your mama.”
“Shut up.” Jared took a drink of beer. He’d usually give Chad a hard time about now, but he didn’t have it in him. “’scuse me.” He got up and headed for the restroom. He could feel it coming. He shut himself in a stall and cried.
And then one day, the sun shone, birds sang, and green shoots pushed up through the soil.
There were merely buds on the trees of the woods, but forest floor had awakened in green.
On the passenger seat beside him was a cardboard box with holes cut in the sides. The incessant sound of cheeping accompanied his drive.
He stopped outside Jensen’s gate and lifted the box carefully in his arms as he got out.
The boy on the porch couldn’t have been more than fourteen.
“Jared! I’ve been waiting all morning!” he called and rushed to the gate where bright blue morning glories bloomed. He unlatched it and swung it open. “What have you brought me?”
Jared held out the box so Jensen could open the flaps on top. The boy’s eyes lit up at the sight of the fluffy yellow chicks. He took the box from Jared and carried it to where his hens were scratching and pecking at the ground.
He knelt and set the box on the ground. He then tipped it slowly up and the chicks rolled out onto the ground. They soon found their feet and began searching for food.
Jensen grinned at Jared. “They are wonderful.”
“They’re worthy?” Jared asked.
Jensen laughed. “Yes.”
They watched the hens and chicks for a few moments.
“All right, ladies, keep an eye on them,” Jensen said. He rose and went to Jared. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Chicks seemed like a good Spring gift.”
“A fine gift,” Jensen said. His cheeks were smooth with barely a hint of a beard. His eyes were unlined and his lips plump.
Jared swallowed the lump in his throat. “You have a lot to explain, you know.”
“Yes.” Jensen looked quite serious. “I suppose I do. I told you I would, didn’t I?”
“You did.”
Jensen opened the gate. “Come on, then.”
He went out the gate and rounded Jared’s truck. Jared followed him to the culvert. They began to follow the stream uphill, climbing steadily along the rocky creek bed. After a quarter of a mile or so, they came to a rock wall from which the water emerged.
“Anyone who drinks from this spring will age with the seasons but revive in the Spring when they drink again.” Jensen knelt beside the spring.
If Jared had not seen Jensen age and return to being a boy himself, he would have laughed.
“So it makes you … perennial.” He knelt and trailed his fingers in the chilly water.
“Yes.”
“So you first drank from the spring how long ago?”
“Not me,” Jensen said. “I am not of a human mother born. I am the spirit of this spring.”
Things suddenly slotted together. “You’re fae?” His great-granny had told him of the fae when he was a boy -- how they distort time and memory, of their aversion to salt, and their fondness for gifts. “Holy shit. No, this is crazy. Fairy tales aren’t real.”
Jensen placed his fingertips on Jared’s forehead, and Jared saw. He saw it all -- all the living things of the woods from the mushrooms and snails, the fiddlehead ferns and bluebells, the copperhead snakes on the forest floor to white tail deer and rabbits, the black bear and elk in the brush, to the blue jays and crows, hawks and buzzards in the towering trees. All of it was preternaturally clear and bathed in a brilliant blue-green light. Of course, there were no electric lines here, no LP gas or public utilities of any kind, only the old road.
“How does your refrigerator work?” he blurted out.
Jensen laughed. “I make it work.”
Jared shook his head. “What about the Ackles?”
“They were just humans who lived here a long time ago.”
“Just humans. What am I then?” Jared’s hands curled into fists, and he rose to his full height. “Why should I trust you now? You fucked with me! You made me forget you. I thought I was going crazy!”
Jensen grabbed Jared’s pant leg. “I tried to help you! You wanted money, and I helped you make money. You wanted a house, and I tried …” Jensen’s big eyes beseeched him to understand. “I didn’t realize until the last time you were here that those weren’t the things you wanted. That’s why I told you to come back.”
“Why couldn’t you have told me the truth then? When you knew that what I wanted was you?” Jared shook his head. “No, I have to think about this.” He turned away and started back down the hill.
“And I want you! That’s why I’m showing you the spring.”
He stopped and looked back. “No, it doesn’t make sense. That water runs down the mountain and into Big Bend Creek and then the river. Why wouldn’t everyone be perennial?”
“You have to drink from the source.” Jensen sighed. “And … do you know what day it is?”
“It’s Saturday.”
“It’s the vernal equinox. It’s Spring.”
“So if I’m going to drink…”
“It has to be today.”
There was more laughter in the woods that Spring. Boys’ laughter rang out across the hillside.
They planted seeds and gathered eggs.
They left gifts for the crows, and the crows were pleased.
Soft rain fell, the sun shone down, and the garden flourished.
“Will they miss me?” the taller boy asked as they tended the garden. His brows were drawn down as he thought of his family, of Chad and Mike, even Katie.
“No, they don’t remember you,” his best friend and love replied.
They worked quietly for moment.
“That’s good. I wouldn’t want them to be sad.”
“No,” the fairy said as he picked lettuce. And I wouldn’t want them to come looking for you. “It’s for the best.”
The truck had been driven farther up the road and pushed into a sink hole. The little farm looked much as it had almost a year earlier when a young real estate agent came with an offer.
The boy brought his pail to the fairy. It was nearly full of red berries.
“Still bringing me gifts?” The sun caught in his green eyes, and Jared’s heart swooned. “We’ll have strawberry shortcake at dinner.”
They ate well.
They played like children.
They worked like men.
They loved.
And the mountain was content.
-30-
Reccs:
Outsiders; hulu series
Hellier; paranormal series on YouTube and Amazon Prime
Old Gods of Appalachia; folklore podcast, YouTube and other sources