Sequence Six: Celtic Knot

"Come on in," Maryellen said, standing aside and dusting her hands.

Jared thought she seemed nervous. Well, so was he. He walked into the house, deliberately slowing his steps, not wanting to seem... Brad's words here... "Jerky and hyper."

He wasn't always "jerky and hyper," Jared thought as he navigated the short hallway and turned left into a comfortable living room. Only when he was excited or nervous. And Brad had been an expert at winding him up.

But things with Brad were over a long time ago, well before Jared had met Theo. And why the hell was he thinking of Brad when he was here, in the home of his boyhood best friend? Maybe because Brad was his first love; maybe because Brad, like Jack, had been a part of his past -- distant past nowadays, Jared reflected. Time certainly had a way of passing.

Jared looked around the living room, taking in the comforter slung sloppily across the large, plush sofa; the magazines piled on the end tables; the slippers on the floor. There were two pair of slippers, he noted, and one was larger than the other. That, he decided, would be Jack's pair. He imagined a bedroom closet still crowded with Jack's shirts on hangars. He imagined a sock drawer, within which no doubt nested some secret vice - a porn magazine, or bottle of Viagra, who knew what. He imagined a cigar box full of random souvenirs and trinkets, bits and pieces of Jack's life... a life too short, over too soon.

Maryellen had followed him. She made a vague gesture, encompassing the entire room. "Sorry the place is such a mess. I just didn't have time to... I mean, he was sick for so long... and he didn't really like me fussing around, so I... I just let the housework go for a few months. Nothing too drastic. Just - not doing anything I didn't have to."

Jared selected an overstuffed armchair across from the sofa and smiled at her as he sat down.

"Please, have a seat," she said belatedly.

They were both flustered, so Jared took another beat to collect his thoughts. It was no easy task. His mind was crowded with bright scenes from years ago - he and Jack in junior high school. He and Jack in the ninth grade, joining up together for the wrestling team and then, later on, for track. He and Jack stripping down and jumping into the cooling, muddy water of the river. The last time he'd seen Jack had been forty-two years earlier, at the shitty little general store on the town's spare, dusty main street. It was an unexpected encounter, over sooner than he had time to think of anything much to say. The moment had been filed with a breathless mixture of emotions: Regret at impending loss, fear at an unknown future, a compunding of fresh, profound grief...

And old man Rags, the owner, stood at his counter giving the two of them a hard and unwelcoming stare.

Rags was like that with all the teenage boys. He'd been considerably nicer to Jared and Jack when they were ten and eleven, and then around the time they hit twelve Ruby had screwed up like an asshole. After that he always treated them coldly.

His cold stare made Jared feel uncertain, prickly... as if what he wanted to do would somehow be wrong... but what did he want to do? He and Jack stood staring at each other in surprise, the worn grey slats of the wooden floor creaking under their shifting feet, and Jared knew this was going to be the last time he saw his best friend. He needed to say something, offer something...

"Coffee?"

Jared looked over at Maryellen, who had taken a place on the sofa and was gazing at him with an expectant look. "Uh, no... but thank you."

She sat back. Their eyes held.

"You knew my husband from back in Indiana?" she asked him.

"Yes," Jared said, relieved that she had provided a way for the conversation to move forward. He would have had no idea what to say. He was terrible at small talk, terrible at social situations where connections had to be forged, or forced. It was one of the things that had made him and Jack so close - the fact that they could just talk, without having to think about what to say, without worrying that they sounded stupid or might be saying something the other guy would take the wrong way.

The world was full of assholes, Jack had liked to say, but at least the two of them weren't among their number.

"You went to school together?" Maryellen prompted.

"We - " To his surprise, Jared had to stop there. His voice gave out on him. He had to bite down, hard, on feelings of grief and sorrow that suddenly came rushing over him.

Maryellen stood up from the sofa and crossed the room with a couple of strides. She was pretty, but not delicate. When she walked she sounded like she was stamping. But her face was pure, angelic sympathy. She held Jared's gaze even as she stood over him, and reached to cup the side of his face gently. Her hand was warm. Staring up at her, Jared felt water slip from the corner of his eye.

"You sweet man," she said unexpectedly. "You're just like he said you were."

Despite himself, Jared shook with a sudden gasp. Maryellen stepped back, smiling down at him, and he dragged a hand across his eyes.

"It's okay," Maryellen said. "Take some time. Collect yourself. Can I get you some tea?"

Still choked up, Jared nodded. "Please," he managed to croak.

"I'll be right back." Maryellen retreated from the room, her footfalls clumping and graceless. Jared heard kitchen sounds - running water, a gas stove popping to life, a cabinet door banging.

She was gone for twelve or fifteen minutes, which gave Jared time to regain his composure. He glanced at his phone and saw a text from Theo.

"Everything go okay?"

Jared texted back that the service had been well attended, and now he was having tea with Jack's widow.

"More later," he tapped out, and put the phone back in his jacket pocket. Smiling, he pictured a scene in which Jack and Theo met -- impossible now, but sweet to think on. What would they have thought of each other?

Jared heard a teakettle whistle briefly, then give a protesting shriek as it was tipped to pour boiling water. A couple more minutes went by and then Maryellen was back in the room, placing a tray on the cluttered coffee table between the sofa and the chair. She had set out two cups, a teapot, and a little pitcher of milk. Maryellen stood back a moment, rubbing her hands absently. "Oh," she said, and clumped out of the room once more.

Jared had a sudden flash of memory to one Christmas vacation... it must have been sixth or seventh grade... it was a cold afternoon, and he and Jack had been out in the snowy fields for a few hours enjoying the day's scant sunlight. As twilight gathered Jared brought Jack home, and Jared's mother made them hot cocoa.

"Your mom is nice," Jack said, as he sipped at his cocoa, the tip of his tongue chasing after a tiny marshmallow.

"Well, all right then," she said. Setting the plate of cookies down she said, "Here, boys, try these..."

Try these. Those windmill cookies were still in the stores. Jack had seen them from time to time. Funny, he always had a rush of pleasure, thinking back to how Mom had served them to him and Jack after school, but he never bought them for himself.

Maryellen was back, this time with a plate of cookies. Some kind of vanilla sandwich cookie, the vanilla halves fluted and reminiscent of flowers.

"Please," Maryellen said, offering the plate to him.

Jared blinked and smiled with pleasure. "I was just thinking about cookies," he said.

"The kind that look like little windmills?" Maryellen asked.

Jared laughed.

"They were Jack's favorite," Maryellen said.

"Yes," Jared said. "I remember. My mother used to give them to us after school." He took a cookie. "But she also gave us these. It's funny, I haven't had cookies... of any kind... in years."

"Watching your figure?" Maryellen asked, glancing up at him with a twinkle in her eye. She handed him a cup - a white cup made of some kind of industrial looking glass. Like her, it was substantial, built for use. Jared accepted the cup and a splash of milk, and let his eyes wander the room once again - book shelf, television, everything a little blocky and worn, nothing fancy, nothing fragile.

Maryellen settled back onto the sofa. She looked at the empty space next to her and ran a hand lightly over the rumpled comforter that lay there. "He spent most of every day on this couch for the last few months," she said quietly. "He didn't even want the TV on. He said he just wanted time to... to be here. To appreciate." She looked up at him. "And then he got that email from you."

"Facebook message," Jared said.

"Was that it? He didn't really say, just that you had reached out to him out of the blue. Just like that. Just when he was feeling low, feeling himself really start to slip away."

Jared took a swallow of tea, clutching the cup with trembling fingers.

"Did you know he was sick?" she asked.

"No," Jared said. "I mean, not before I first got back in touch. I just happened to find him when I did. I wish I'd found him years earlier. I looked... I mean, before Facebook, how did you find anyone? But as soon as I signed up and started reconnecting with old friends, I thought of Jack and I looked for him. There were hundreds of Jack Crawfords... well, dozens, anyway... and I scrolled through all of them. None of the profile pictures..."

"Nothing came up that looked like him," Maryellen said. "He used that photo of the dog. He was very sensitive about his looks."

Jared frowned, not getting that. "What? Why?" He wanted to ask whether something had happened - something disfiguring, a fire, a scar.

Maryellen smiled. "He wouldn't ever have said anything to you," she said, "but he was always self-conscious about his looks. He thought he was homely."

"Well," Jared laughed. "I guess he probably was, but so what? So am I. It never mattered."

"With guys it was never an issue. But with women..." Her smile grew larger, brighter, and more tender. It shone even when she brought her cup up for a swallow of tea.

For the first time since hearing the news, Jared felt something relax inside him. A smile came to his face in turn. "No, he never said anything about it to me."

"And you would just have given him shit about it if he did," Maryellen guessed.

"Probably." Jared felt his smile stretch, felt it start to turn to something else, bit his lip hard. He took a deep breath, then a long draw of tea. He crunched into a vanilla cream cookie. It wasn't bad.

"You and he were best friends back in the day, right?" Maryellen said.

"I guess so."

"He told me he didn't have many friends, and none like you," Maryellen said.

"That was true for both of us," Jared said.

"Were you two..." Maryellen paused with careful discretion. Jared revised his opinion: She was solid and blunt of build and movement, but her manners were nothing short of gracious. But he had no idea what she trying to ask, so he shrugged.

"Did you fool around or anything like that?" she asked.

Okay. Not always gracious. But she seemed sincere.

"No," Jared said. "Why?"

"Well, I mean..."

"Oh!" Jared understood. "Because I'm gay? No. Nothing like that. He was just a friend." Jared smiled then with a rueful expression. "Though I shouldn't say 'just' a friend. He was the best friend I ever had. I mean... my parents treated him like a son, and I guess I started thinking of him as my brother. That's how it was with us. That's... it was important. It's stayed important to me. I never forgot him all these years."

Taking off Saturday morning, hiking all day. Exploring along the river, or taking their bikes as far as they could ride, until they ran out of water, had to stop and swim in a creek that was barely there in the July heat. Fighting over nothing and then friends again with no hard feelings. Close as two boys could be. Twice, Jared knew when Jack was hurt - once when he'd gone off on his own to check out what he thought was dead cow while Jared hung back. Jared poked around looking at rocks, looking for minerals, imagining the tiny glitters in the exposed faces of the stones he broke apart were minuscule diamonds. Then a feeling came over him and Jared looked up and looked around. Jack was in trouble; he knew it. He wasn't sure which direction he should start off in. Jack had been out of sign for a good twenty minutes. Jared had a distinct thought: It wouldn't do any good to panic. He stopped still, closed his eyes, breathed slowly, and imagined a thread that connected him to Jack. It was easy to do: The thread shone bright and steady in his mind. Jared followed the thread and it brought him to where Jack had tripped and twisted his knee. Jared helped him hobble home. It took almost two hours.

A couple of times Jack even spent Christmas day with Jared and his family. No one said anything, but everyone understood that Jack's uncle was increasingly resentful of the boy's presence in his house. Sometimes Jack's uncle would talk about how he had three of his own boys and they were a handful already -- he'd talk about how strays belonged in shelters or kennels --

"He actually said that," Jared whispered, before he realized he'd spoken aloud. Maryellen had said something at the exact same moment, though, and he covered by asking her to repeat herself.

"You missed him all that time?" Maryellen said.

Jared leaned forward to place the cup on the tray, needing something to do while he formulated his response. Sitting upright, he looked her straight in the eye and said, "Maryellen, I have to tell you there was never anything sexual about our friendship. But that said, I think Jack had a tremendous influence on me, on what I came to look for in a man. He had a kindness, an she was so smart..."

"You were in love with him," she said. "That's normal, I guess. Boys love their close male friends at that age. Before they... well, I guess you never got interested in girls."

"No. But, I mean... I know he was straight, but I have often wondered, if my mother hadn't died and my father hadn't sold the business and moved us to South Dakota..."

"Anything could have happened," Maryellen said.

"But, as it was, nothing did..." Jared gathered his thoughts. "And things changed so quickly. She went to the doctor and he told her..." Jared hesitated.

"It's okay," Maryellen said. "I can talk about death, I can talk about illness."

"He said it was cancer. Three weeks later, Mom... they came for her in an ambulance, all the way from... well, it was about forty miles to the hospital. She died on the way... "

"I'm so sorry," Maryellen said.

Jared pressed on. "School was already out for the summer. My dad - well, he didn't want to be in our house any more. He didn't even want to be in the same town. He sold everything. He lumped us into the back of the pickup and off we went. There wasn't time to understand anything. There wasn't time to say goodbye to anyone or get used to the idea."

"He dumped you... in the back of the pickup? Is that legal?" Maryellen asked with a concerned frown.

"There was a camper shell," Jared said.

"And how many of you were there?"

"Me and my four sisters." Jared paused. "I was the oldest. I was pretty busy looking after the little kids until we got to South Dakota and my aunt took over. So, that was another thing. I just didn't even have a chance... I mean, I didn't even have a chance to think about it. We were on our way out of town and we stopped at the general store for some soda and things. My dad was paying at the counter when Jack came in."

Jack came in and he and Jared saw each other at once. They hadn't spoken in a few weeks - they hadn't had a chance. Not since Jared's mother had died. Not since the burial, when they stood together in their Sunday suits, both trying not to cry because they were young men and they were old enough to show strength. Jack's cousin and aunt came, too, though his uncle didn't attend the service. Jack's aunt even watched over Jared's younger sisters during the service, allowing Jared some time to focus on the funeral, and on saying goodbye.

And he and Jack looked at each other and Jared's father was paying at the counter and Rags...

"And Rags - that was the guy who ran the store - he looked over and kinda just nailed us with this stare," Jared told Maryellen, "like he thought we were going to cause mischief. It made me nervous. I didn't even think about asking Jack for his address or anything."

"How did you not know his address? Did you never go to his house?"

"Our little town? It didn't even have street signs. We got our mail at the post office. So, no, I never went to his house, but it wouldn't have mattered even if I did."

"You never went to his house even once?" Maryellen looked like she was having trouble comprehending this.

"This was when he was living with his cousins."

A look came over Maryellen then, look that suggested some missing piece had fallen into place. "Oh," she said. "Right, of course."

Jared gazed questioningly at her, but she didn't elaborate. After a moment he resumed, saying, "He didn't really like his cousins, or that uncle of his -- that mean old man. I was never too sure what was going on with his parents, and I never even really knew where they lived. Michigan or something, I think. From what I heard it sounded like they were getting a divorce and they farmed him out while they worked through everything."

"Well, that's more or less what was happening then," Maryellen said. "Though it was a little more complicated. His father was leaving his mother... no, that's not really accurate. His mother was divorcing his father. His father was having an affair. But Jack always defended his father. He always said you had to understand that his mother was sick with MS for years and he needed someone to... well, he needed someone. Unfortunately, the someone he ended up with was underage. A babysitter, actually. A high school girl who used to look after Jack and his little sister."

Jack had a sister? Jared never knew that.

"Well, he got busted for it," Maryellen went on, "and Jack, with his mother so sick and his father locked up... that's why Jack lived with his aunt and uncle for so long. Seven years. They not only took Jack in, they ended up adopting him. But he never felt like he really belonged there, and his cousins hated him, saw him as an interloper. I'm not surprised if he stayed away from home as much as possible."

"Shit. I had no idea..."

"His sister ended up with other cousins on the other side of the family. She and Jack never reconnected. He tried a few time, but she wasn't interested," Maryellen said.

Like Jack and his own sisters had grown apart. It was like Mom' death and the movie had shattered their family bonds. As time went on and they all grew up, they simply scattered, their tenuous bonds fading to nothingness.

Jared's mind flashed back again to those final moments in his old home town: His dad paying at the counter, sorting through his wallet and pockets for small bills and change. Two of his sisters who were old enough to do so looking after the youngest ones. Shay, who was eleven at the time, trying to head off tantrum that the youngest, Ida, was about to throw. And then Jack came in...

Jared had known Jack for almost five years, a third of his life, ever since Jack had showed up in town one autumn. From the first day they met, the two had been inseparable. Jared had thought of Jack as the brother he always wanted.

But at that moment, on that last day - when Jared looked at Jack, he suddenly knew that Jack meant more to him than any friend, any family. He had no words for the sensation, no context for the knowing. It wasn't like he was in love with Jack... it was more that Jack had been a constant, like the distant blue mountains peeking over the horizon, or the river wending across the countryside and through the tiny town, or the dusty yellow wallpaper in the dining room. You never questioned those things, you never thought of the world without them, and yet they meant everything. They defined the world. To lose them would be to lose everything essential, everything familiar.

Years later, of course, when he met Theo - Theo, who was so much like Jack; Theo, who effortlessly drew him away from Brad; Theo, who ruined his life and then helped him rebuild it -- Jared understood exactly. Theo looked a little like Jack, but more crucially he had Jack's sense of humor, had the same kind of bright and nimble mind that Jack had, radiated the same light that had poured off Jack in his laughter, in his intelligent eyes. He fell in love with Theo because he had loved Jack, and never stopped loving Jack.

But on that last day in his hometown, suddenly comprehending that everything he knew was slipping away, all Jared really understood was that he was losing something more important than his familiar bedroom, or the streets and fields where he'd always played.

The two boys stared at each other. Jack's eyes were wide, worried. He spoke first. "How's it going? What are you all up to?"

Jared took advantage of the moment. He meant to put his hand on Jack's shoulder., say something to him, but then he grabbed Jack, and pulled him close. Jack, he was startled to realize, had grabbed him back and was holding him tightly.

Jared no longer remembered what it was he said to Jack in the last moment. Over the years his imagination had filled in all sorts of things he wished he'd said: I'll miss you. You're my best friend. You're my brother. Be safe, be happy. Don't forget me.

Jared felt grief move through him in a wave. It pounded in his heart, in his sinuses. Its irrepressible rays burned through his eyes, making them sting and water.

"And you carried those unresolved feelings for him all this time," Maryellen said.

"Yes," Jared said.

"And when you finally found him on Facebook?"

"That was pure chance. I was looking for someone else from our class, a guy named Scott, and I found his mother. Well, I wasn't going to friend his mother on Facebook, but I was curious to see who her friends were, so I had a look at her page. And there was another guy, Tim, who was in our class. And Tim..."

"Tim Braddock," Maryellen said. "Nice man. He and his wife have come out and paid us a visit now and again. And Tim was friends with Jack on Facebook."

"Right," Jared said. "So I went to Jack's page from there, and of course there was nothing much there except something about getting chemo and a share from someone in a 'Living with Cancer' group. I sent a friend request and wrote him a message just to say hi, I'm sorry to hear you are sick... I wish I found you before now... but here I am."

"And he was so happy about it," Maryellen said, her own eyes getting bright and brimming over for the first time in their conversation. "And your notes made him so happy during the last few months."

Jared nodded. He'd hoped that was the case, but he hadn't been sure Jack even remembered him. Their Facebook messages had been sporadic, brief, and rare. Jack never really wrote him back much - a sentence here and there. Always cheerful, but never more than a sentence or two. He was struggling with exhaustion, with illness. He was probably never the sort to write long letters in any case.

"I'd have come in person if I'd known how sick he was," Jared said. "But he made it sound like it was all no big deal, and even said that maybe he would be traveling to Chicago for work..."

Maryellen nodded. "And then you got my note breaking the news and inviting you to his funeral. I'm sorry. I know it was must have been a shock. I knew he wasn't telling you how bad it was... he just didn't want to burden other people with that. But I didn't know he was painting such a rosy picture."

Jared looked at her with a strange expression. "Your note was sweet," he said, "but that wasn't how I knew. Jack died on the afternoon of the 12th, right?"

"Yes," Maryellen said. "And I know it took me almost a week to think about contacting you..."

"No, but I already knew," Jared said. "That afternoon, all of a sudden..." He hesitated.

"You felt him," she said.

"I - yes - I smelled him," Jared said. "All of a sudden. It was just a moment, and it came out of nowhere. I smelled him and - it was him. Just like all those years ago. I knew it was him right away. And I did feel him, too. I felt him right next to me, I felt him... saying... hello? Goodbye? I don't know. It was him -- and then it, then he was gone."

The last moment, that moment so fleeting, looking for words, for a gesture or a symbol. Should he make a joke? Should he say something profound and tender? But what did you say when you were a country kid and you were talking to someone as rough around the edges as yourself? When you were barely fifteen years old, and just starting to sort out your feelings in general, and your mother was dead, and your father had grown distant, and suddenly... unthinkably... you were leaving the only home you'd ever known?

He had said something to Jack, but what? What had he come up with?

"And then you wrote that last Facebook message to him?" Maryellen asked.

"Right... I mean, I was absolutely sure I knew what I felt. It was him. He was gone... but just to be sure, I wrote that note."

Hey Jack, it's me, how are you buddy? Was just thinking of you. Pulling hard for you every day, old friend. I hope you're staying on top of life and all its challenges. Hope I'll see you soon if I didn't already, LOL.

"When I read that, I kind of thought... maybe something had happened like what you just described," Maryellen said.

They sat in silence. Maryellen stood, gathered up the tray, and clumped out of the living room into the kitchen. Then she clumped off to some other part of the house. A few minutes later she was back in the living room, something in her hand.

"Here," she said, and handed it to him.

It took Jared a moment to figure out what it was. A thin silver chain with a medallion - silver whorls, a black inlay. A depiction of a Celtic knot.

"Jesus," Jared breathed, a lost memory surfacing for the first time. "I forgot all about this..."

Hugging Jack for a moment - what he'd said to Jack came back to him now: "I gotta go. I'm sorry."

And Jared had turned away from everything he knew and into a new life, all in that moment...

"The next few years were so confusing," Jared told Maryellen. "I thought about him a lot, but... Then it was college, and then Brad, and work and life... which always felt off kilter, screwed up. I felt screwed up. Then finally I understood. When I met Theo." He looked up at Maryellen. "When I met the man I married."

She smiled at him.

"He's a lot like Jack," Jared confessed. "That was what drew me to him in the first place. But that's not what kept me there. Theo kept me all on his own."

"So in a way, Jack guided you to the man who made you happy."

"Yes, I guess he did," Jared said. "It's funny, but I kind of always felt Jack in my life, even though we lost touch."

Jared looked at the medallion again, and then slipped the chain over his own neck for the first time in forty-two years. He put a hand over the medallion, the knot that bound him to his first and best friend. "Let me guess," he said, with a mischievous grin at Maryellen. "He kept this in a cigar box."

She laughed. "He had a cigar box, but..." She shook her head. "He wore that charm. All the time. Every day. I noticed it when we first got together, but all he told me was it was something that had been in his family for a long time. Then, the evening of the day you found him on Facebook - you should have seen Jack's face light up when he read your message. He told me all about you that night. He told me the medallion once belonged to your grandfather."

"My mother's grandfather, actually," Jared said. "Maybe even his father before that. See, on the back here?" He reversed the medallion and pointed to an inscription - 1860. "She gave it to me when I turned nine."

There was another brief silence, full of shared affection for someone no longer there. Full of poignancy. Full of tenderness.

"I'm glad Jack and I managed to reconnect before it was too late," Jared said.

Maryellen smiled and as one they stood up. Jared had draped his jacket over the back of the chair. He drew it on now, and then turned to Maryellen. "Thanks," he said.

"I think it was more than just good luck," she said. "I think you two always had some sort of gravitational pull on each other. I think that's what brought you back together when he really needed you." She extended her arms, and Jared, feeling light, feeling suddenly happy, gave her a hug.

"Let's you and I not lose touch," he said, as she saw him to the door. "Let's talk sometimes."

"I'd like that," she answered.

For Mark