Jager - 1. Story

Hearing the runners scrape across the kitchen’s tile floor woke me from my nap. I could hear Adam drag the stupid rocking horse from the garage towards the family room. My dear partner of forty-odd years was beginning to lose it. He was acting so strange some days; talking to people who weren’t there, forgetting things, and even seeing things. I was worried about him.

I got out of my chair pressing downwards on my cane. As my hips groaned and my back creaked with pain, I felt each and every one of my many years of life. Shuffling until my joints warmed up, I headed for the kitchen. I could hear Adam talking to someone now. I hoped he was on the phone.

As I rounded the corner, I was glad to see him chatting on the house phone and twisting the cord like he always did. He looked up at me and gave me his boyish, charming smirk. It was this devilish look that captured me all those years ago. I could still hear the Doobie Brothers singing about China Grove as we necked in the back of Adam’s Oldsmobile Delta 88. That was the same night we’d met at the dance at the Unitarian Church. There weren’t many good places for men like us to meet.

Adam was so brave that night. He’d always been the one of us with courage. Our eyes had met across the room in the church basement. After I pretended I wasn’t looking at him, he got up and walked over to me. I remember looking up and seeing his long blond-

“How was your nap?” Adam asked as he hung up the phone. “We’ve got a big night planned.”

“What big night?” I asked, wondering what hijinks my dear man’s mind was playing on him.

“It’s Valentine’s Day.” Adam kissed me on the lips and I felt my heart flutter. Even after all these years, he got a rise out of me. I may be taking heart medication, but he could still make it race.

“I know,” I answered. I lied. I forgot it was today. It didn’t matter though because I’d gotten Adam a box of his favorite candies; milk chocolate with raspberry cream inside. We’d been to the mall and I bought them when he was in the bathroom. He was under the impression we were only mall-walking for our health. I knew I had to get him his present when I had the chance. Once he disappeared around the corner, I dashed into the See’s Candy and bought them.

“Why did you drag the old rocking horse in from the garage?” I finally had to ask the question. He’s avoiding it, I can tell.

“We’re having company later,” he answered cryptically. Adam’s been doing that a lot lately. It bugs the hell out of me.

“Who’s coming by?”

“The usual Valentine’s Day group,” he says, smiling and wiping his eyes.

My other concern is Adam has been very weepy lately. He was never a sentimental fool until recently. His furtive eye-wiping makes me think there is something wrong with him. Every time I bring it up, he only gets more emotional. It hurts to see the pain etched across his heavily lined but still handsome face. His eyes are red a lot lately.

“I can help, you know. What do you need me to do?”

“Nothing, my dear. You need to rest up. There will be a houseful this evening.”

There won’t be a houseful. There never is. We’re just two lonely old men, still loving on each other, but alone.

“Are you sure?” I ask. I’m concerned about him. I worry it’s his mind that’s going and then what are we going to do? I can hardly get around. My heart can’t take much activity. My arms and legs have weakened. Luckily we have people come in to help us. Thank heavens.

“I’m sure. Go finish your nap. You’ve only been asleep for a few minutes.” Adam has a hand on each of my shoulders. His lovely blue eyes are peering into mine. I smile back, reassuring him. It’s what we do for each other. We have the other’s back. Adam and Glenn, the dynamic duo, in love and in charge for forty-some years.

“Are you sure?” I ask. I suddenly feel really tired. I should keep an eye on him. His mind is going I think.

***

A noise awakens me and when I open my eyes I see a little face staring at me. I start, and pull the afghan closer. Who is this little imp peering at me so happily? I pull the wrap over my head. There are voices in the other room. The slight weight which was beside me disappears. I hear the sound of little feet padding quickly across the room.

I hear Adam’s laugh. It’s musical, but like a trombone not a trumpet. The sound of it makes me grin and I pull down the cover. It’s darker now with the sun having set. I struggled to pull myself up with my arms. They aren’t working right. I stop and sigh.

I realize the only voice I can really hear talking is my Adam’s. There are no other voices. He’s doing it again, talking with people who aren’t there. It has happened a lot recently. I’m worried about him. I’m worried about us, really.

What had I seen a moment ago?

I must have been having a dream to see the face of a little one right in front of me. It happens. We once planned on having a family. Adam and I were going to have a little boy or a little girl to raise and take care of. It was all planned. I sighed and it sounded so sad and weary. It felt so recent as I remembered.

Our friend Amy found herself in the ‘family way’ and she didn’t have a boyfriend or husband. It was the late seventies and while there were plenty of women who raised kids alone, it was still looked down on.

Frankly, it wasn’t like two men raising a baby was considered acceptable or normal. I lucked out because as Adam said, ‘I just don’t care what they think. Fuck ‘em’. Like I said, he was the brave one.

We had a house in Brooklyn and a room for her. Amy could stay with us until the little boy or girl was born. Adam and I were putting together a little nest egg to give her. It was a gift because she was giving us something we’d never get otherwise; a family. I remember her going up to bed the night before. I met her on the stairs and kissed her on the forehead, thanking her for her sacrifice.

The next day, she came to us. It was evening. The air was chilly for May. I remember smelling dirt in the air from our neighbors newly planted garden. I’d started painting the baby’s room, a pale foamy sea green with white trim. Amy knocked on the front door which was odd given she was living with us.

As we sat at the dining room table and she told us about the abortion, I felt numb and somewhat hollow. Adam was crying, silently weeping, because we both knew the dream had died. We would never be parents. The room I’d only started to paint would become a den or a spare room no one would ever use. It would remain empty and alone.

Amy went upstairs to pack her things. I remember reaching out to Adam as he continued to cry and took his hand. It was cool to the touch. I pulled him closer. He scooted his chair closer to me. My lover, my partner laid his face on my chest. His tears watered my skin. I could feel the hot puffs of his breath as he sucked in air desperately clinging to hope but feeling nothing other than despair.

Adam’s presence at the doorway brought me back to the present. I smiled at him, bleak at the memory of loss.

“Are you going to join us?” he asked, crossing his arms. Behind him, there were no other sounds. There was only the quiet.

“Oh, Adam,” I sighed. Running my hand alongside my chair, I found my cane. “Who’s here?”

The dread filled my chest as I waited. He was delusional. No one was here. We were two old queens on their last leg in the journey of life. We had each other.

“Come and see. You’ll be surprised.”

I waved him away and heard his footsteps cross the kitchen tile floor. It was the lonely sound of my man walking across a divide and away from me.

I put the cane in front of me and heaving, I stood. My joints were stiff. My back ached. It was slow going, but eventually my torso was somewhat erect. For a moment, I thought I heard the jangling sound of a child’s laughter. I couldn’t have though. There were no children here. It was only Adam and I and, well, Jager.

Jager was the rocking horse my grandparents bought for me. It had been bare wood, built by a neighbor, I’d been told. My grandpa had carefully painted it white with a red saddle and reins. There were blue accents and it was a beautiful thing. When I was presented with the gift on my birthday, my German immigrant grandmother had pointed at it and said, ‘Jager,’ nodding at me. From then on, my rocking horse was called Jager, which I later discovered meant ‘hunter.’ I loved it so much. I would get on it and ride for hours at a time, pretending I was out in the wild tracking buffalo or coyote.

Wearing a child’s cowboy hat with a fringed vest and a holster with a toy gun, I became Roy Rogers. I was the Lone Ranger. I could become anyone I wanted to. Therefore, when we made our deal with Amy, the first thing I retrieved from my parents’ house was Jager. I knew our little boy or little girl would love Jager as much as I did.

Jager was sitting in the middle of the baby’s room when I started painting it. Every time I remembered our loss, it was the image of the rocking horse alone in the center of a half-finished room. He’d never have our son or daughter ride him. Jager’s only purpose was to give a child dreams, to let him or her become whatever they wanted to be. That was a rocking horse’s reason for existing.

Now, Jager had no reason to live.

That night after Amy left, I stood in the doorway and looked at the drying paint and the rocking horse and my eyes filled with tears. As the tears trickled down, it became rage. I marched into the middle of the room and grabbed it. I dragged the horse through the doorway and down the stairs. Adam was screaming at me as I pulled it around the corner. I could see his face was a contorted mask of pain. It gave me pause.

I wanted to take the stupid wooden toy and smash it. I wanted to turn Jager into kindling wood and burn it in the backyard. The rocking horse had no purpose anymore. It would never make a little girl or boy laugh and imagine.

Adam grabbed me and hugged me. He pulled me so tightly and again I felt the heat of his tears. His face found mine and his lips sucked greedily on mine.

He looked so sad and lost. Adam was always boyish, but that night he looked like a kid who’d lost his favorite toy. In a way, perhaps, we both had.

I’d calmed down and Adam made me promise not to destroy Jager. I couldn’t deny him anything. Even thinking about the rocking horse and what we lost that night made my heart thud and ache. Jager was the symbol of what we’d never have.

“Are you coming?” Adam asked, his face flushed. For the first time in some time, his eyes glowed with hope. I hadn’t seen him look so happy in some time. “They’re waiting for you.”

I shuffled after the man, his back hunched a little. His arthritis was bothering him and it hurt me too. It could feel his pain.

When we reached the far side of the kitchen, I stepped down each stair carefully. The family room was below and I rarely went there these days. I began hearing voices, other voices, and there was something familiar about them. One sounded a little like my brother. Another sounded like someone else I knew, but I couldn’t place it.

As I got to the last step, I saw a handsome young man looking at me happily and in his arms was a boy, a child of maybe five. I smiled back though I didn’t know who they were. Something about them perplexed me. Hadn’t we met?

“Hi Dad,” the handsome young man said confidently. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

He seemed to know me, but why was he calling me, Dad? I knew better than to question it though. I got by playacting and recognizing people who seemed to know me. At least, it usually worked. So I went with it.

“Isn’t it good to see them?” an old man beside me asked. He looked very familiar and there was something about him. I didn’t know him though. Not really.

“Dad, how’re you feeling?” the young man asked. There was a woman behind him. She approached and grabbed onto his arm and spoke to me expectantly.

“You’re looking good, well rested and so handsome this evening.”

I didn’t know who these people were. There were a couple of older people and I realized one was my brother, Will. I smiled at him. I hadn’t seen my brother in a long time.

“Will? Is that you?” I asked, shading my eyes for no apparent reason in this basement room.

The man smiled hesitantly and stood up. He stepped forward and held out his hand. “I’m your nephew, Scott. Dad’s been dead for several years now.”

I didn’t know what he meant. My brother was dead. I looked over at the familiar man, and then I recognized him. It was my Adam. He was looking at me nervously, biting his lower lip like he always did.

“Grandpa!” the little boy in the handsome young man’s arms squealed. He was the little guy who woke me up earlier, at least I thought so. “Grandpa, can I ride on Jager?”

The boy squirmed and writhed until his father set him down onto the floor. He raced over to the rocking horse. He crawled onto Jager and began rocking back and forth, screaming, “Woo Hoo!” at the top of his lungs.

I felt my heart rise up and fill my throat. “Someone’s using Jager.” It came out like a whisper.

“Yes, first our son and now our grandson adores him. They both love Jager,” Adam said. He put his arm around my shoulders and hugged me. I turned and kissed his cheek. It was hot beneath my lips.

I looked over at the handsome man and turned to the man next to me. “Is he, is he our son?” I asked softly, almost shyly.

“Yes, it’s Brandon. The little boy on Jager is our grandson, Liam. They came to wish you a very happy Valentine’s day. I love you.”

“But Amy…?” I said, confused again.

“We used a surrogate. He’s your birth son.”

I felt a flash of emotion. It was both hot and cold. My head was a little dizzy.

“Pops, I think Dad needs to sit,” I heard the young man say.

“Let me help,” the woman beside him offered.

I looked over and saw the little imp of a boy rocking wildly and happily on Jager, my own, dear rocking horse. I wondered who he was. I looked at the man next to me who helped me to a chair. He looked familiar.

“Do I know you?” I asked. He wiped his eyes as he pulled away.

“Pops,” the young man said. “You can’t do this anymore.”

“I can’t leave him.” The old man looked so sad. I wondered why.

“Let’s figure this out. I’m coming by tomorrow morning.” The handsome young man seemed lost. He gave me a forlorn smile. I couldn’t understand why.

Why were all these strangers looking at me?

***

A day in March

I hear drawers open and close. There is a warm patch on my left cheek. As I open my eyes, I notice the bed is angled differently. The orient of the room isn't the same. I sit up and see him.

It's a stranger dressed in blue scrub pants and a blousy top, lemon yellow with brown figures on it. They appear to be cartoon bears. The young man is stocky, short, and built like a fire hydrant, and he is busy putting clothes into a dresser across from my bed.

"Where am I?"

The guy turns, smiles and responds, "Good morning, Glen. I hope you slept well."

I smile back, hesitantly. The room looks somewhat familiar, though it seems strange to me. Then I see a couple of picture frames next to my bed. There was one of me and of-

"Where's Adam?" I ask, suddenly remembering him. "Why isn't he here?"

"I'm right here, my darling man," I hear as the door opens. There is Adam, pushing a cart with a coffee pot and a plastic dome and grinning. His face looks happier and for some reason more relaxed. "I brought us some breakfast. Are you hungry?"

"I am. Where did you go?" I ask, disturbed. "I woke up alone."

"You had a bad night so I slept next door," he said, taking off the dome which showed a couple of croissants. Next to it is a plate of fruit. "Do you want coffee or juice?" he asked.

"Where are we?" I ask again. I see the young man has finished putting clothes away and is standing over by another door. "Who is he?"

Adam looks at me and smiles. He nods at the young man who then approaches the bed. "I'm Stevie, Glen. Don't you remember? I'm your day nurse."

A fleeting memory whips through me and then departs. I don't know what's going on, but turn and see my Adam's smile is warm and calming.

"It's okay. We're at St. Anthony's now. We moved here a little while ago. We’re in our new apartment. People like Stevie help us. We’re in a good place."

Adam's voice is reassuring and I feel my heartbeat begin to slow. "Is everything okay?" I ask. I'm worried about him, but he looks good, actually better, though I don't know where I got that idea.

"Everything is fine. Brandon found this place. Isn't it wonderful?" he asks me. I look around and it is a nice room. The young man, Stevie, I think, is looking at me thoughtfully. I give him a smile as I reach for a glass of juice. He looks kind and Adam seems to trust him.

"As long as I have you," I say, patting Adam's hand. I look back over and see a picture on the wall. It's a large framed photo of Adam and me and behind us is a waterfall. It's beautiful. I can remember our trip to Sioux Falls like it was yesterday. Suddenly, I'm very tired.

I fall back on my pillow. There are light butterfly kisses on my forehead. I open my eyes and see a man, old with his face heavily lined and wrinkled. He is over me and he looks familiar. I don't know exactly who he could be. He has friendly eyes. He's a stranger though.