end days: jake johnson

[secondhand_stars]

"Hello?"

"Mom! Hi. It's Jake."

"Jake-honey! How are you? How was your retreat?"

"About that --"

"Sweetheart, I just wanted to say it's so good to hear your voice. I feel like we never talk anymore. You've been so busy lately, huh? You sound good though. You sound very -- happy?"

"I am, Mom, I really am. How's everyone?"

"Oh, you know -- Your dad is organizing a missions trip to Mexico for the Youth Group. They're going to be building a church for an orphanage. Julie is getting ready to go to Kansas State in the fall. She's so excited, gosh. I've already told her she's under no circumstances allowed to move all the way across the country like someone. Jase is starting to drive Dad's truck around and got a job at Hellerman's sacking groceries. Jenny is in dance, Jonas is running around the house and driving me insane. You know, sweetheart, the usual. How are you? What are you up to?"

(silence.)

"Honey?"

"Oh, right. Sorry Mom. I just -- I just got distracted by something. What was that?"

"I asked: How are you?"

"I'm.. good. Happy, like I said. I've mostly just been working and saving up for the fall."

"Still working as a waiter at that Italian restaurant?"

"The very one. I might get a second job, too. Things are pretty expensive here."

"Do you need some money, Jake? I can talk to Dad and we can try to scrape up something for you. You know that, right? You know that we'll always be able to manage something."

"Oh god, no. It's not that. I just -- "

"Hm?"

"Mom. I'm moving out of Leah and my's apartment."

"What! Oh honey, did you guys have a falling out?"

"No, no. It's not that. It's just -- time. It's time for me to."

"Is she okay? I saw Annie and Ed at the supermarket yesterday when I was dropping Jase off at work and they didn't -- Do they know yet?"

"Probably not. But hey, Mom? She's okay. I'm just moving across town and we'll still see each other all the time."

"So, you've already found and place and everything? A roommate?"

"Yes, his name is Lincoln."

"Lincoln! Like the president?"

"The very one. Lincoln Adler. He's a really great guy, Mom. From Boston. He works at a Health food-grocery store-type called Lamden's. His twin sister lives across town, too. Uh --"

"He seems like a very nice boy. Where did you two meet?"

"At a club."

"That's unusual! Are you sure he's not a criminal or -- You know, the city is such a dangerous place, I've read. I don't want you taking any chances."

"Mom, he's not a criminal. He's just a guy. But --"

"Yes, honey?"

"Mom, I need to tell you something and you have to promise not to freak out."

( a wavering silence.)

"You promise?"

"Sure, sweetheart. Of course. You're not in any trouble are you?"

"No, Mom. No, I'm fine. I just -- It's something you should know. God, you might already know it and just haven't said anything because you don't want to believe it or are protecting me."

"Jacob, what is it?"

"Mom, I -- I'm gay. Lincoln isn't my roommate, he's my boyfriend."

"I'm.. sorry. What?"

"Gay. I'm gay. Leah hasn't been my girlfriend since our senior year."

"But -- you moved out to New York to be with her?"

"Mom, I moved to New York to be with her and to be myself."

"How were you not yourself here?"

"Are you kidding? Do you remember when the town banned <u>The Drowning of Stephan Jones</u>?"

"That book about that.. couple?"

"Yeah! About the kid who harassed the gay couple that moved to their town and how his girlfriend was stuck in the middle of it. That book. They burned it in front of the library. Oh my god, the pamphlets that got passed around at some of the churches!"

"Your father never allowed that at his church, honey. You know that."

"I know. Our church didn't do anything. Do you remember Sam Fielding?"

"Oh Jacob, don't --"

"The gay kid in the next town who got beaten up?"

"Sweetheart, everyone loves you here."

"They love what I did, not who I was."

"They would never..."

"Mom. You can't be gay in Jackson. You just can't."

"But New York?"

"Leah is my best friend. She's always protected me and stood up for me. She was safe. She -- Why are we talking about this? I don't want to talk about this, Mom. I just want to know..."

"--Yes, honey?"

"Do you still love me?"

"You're my son."

"But do you still love me? Can you still love me knowing that I'm gay and that I love a man."

"You love him?"

"Yes. I love Lincoln."

"But, how do you know?"

"How do you know that you love Dad?"

"No, I mean: how do you know you're gay?"

"I just, do. I don't like women. I mean -- I like women, but when one kisses me romantically or touches me... Oh god, this is so embarrassing. I don't -- I feel admired and appreciated, but there's no... Satisfaction. I don't feel. I just do because I feel like I'm supposed to do. Maybe I've been doing that all my life. Or, did. With him, I feel like I'm myself. I feel so happy and right and ... Are you still there?"

"Yes, honey. I'm here."

"You never answered my question, Mom."

"What que-- Oh, god. That one. Don't be silly, Jake. Of course, I love you. That can't change."

"Yes, it can. It can. I know you think it's immoral and twisted, but --"

"You're still my son! I spent nineteen years caring and living for you. It's impossible. I love you, Jacob. I love you. I just -- worry so much for you. It can't be easy."

"It never is."

"I suppose you're right. I suppose it never is."

"Mom?"

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"Don't tell Dad."

"Oh, I won't. I -- Right, I promise I won't. It's probably for the best that I don't anyway. You know how he's so very .. old fashioned. He had a fit over you living with Leah back when we thought you two were, well, you know, together. I promise I'll leave that to you."

"Good. Thanks. Hey, I've got to go. Tell everyone I said, hello, okay?"

"Of course. You take care, sweetheart."

"I will. Okay, bye. Love you. Bye."

[secondhand_stars]

Brooklyn Free Clinic was a chaotic mess balanced precariously on the line of controlled and all-out riot. Sandwiched between a set of gangly legged children pressed into one plastic chair and a young mother who bounced a snot-nosed infant upon her knee, Jake cleared his throat and compressed himself minutely smaller. Folding arms across his chest, he squinted eyes out a dingy window and watched people pass and filter in, en masse.

"Jacob Johnson," a nurse crowed into the room.

He stood and wove through the mess of bodies to where the older woman in a cartoon patterned set of scrubs stood. A meek smile was given down to her before she led him to the scales and gestured for him to step on. Metal levers raced up and down the notched lines expertly. At his final weight, Jake gaped openly.

"Don't tell me you weighed less, boy." The nurse snickered.

"No! I -- I've like, lost ten pounds."

"Oh," she murmured indecipherably as a note was made in his charts. Ticking her head, the nurse led him down to a curtained off section of their efficient and noisy observation room. As he folded into his chair, she checked his vitals, made the necessary notes, and then snapped shut his file. "Doctor will be here soon."

Everything here hummed. Across the way, a series of children were being systematically immunized for the upcoming school year. Their shrieks and startled cries shook up his insides and made a nervous energy pump through veins. He waited poorly with lanky body fidgeting and hands swiping through his hair. What was a mere fifteen minutes expanded out to something almost eternal in mind before his doctor du jour strolled in. A brief glance was given to his chart.

"Blood pressure's a little low. What'cha here for?"

"Lately I've been out-of-breath a lot. Like, not really bad, but just a little? And mostly just when I get nervous or busy or whatever. I've never had problems before either. I've always been really athletic. Anyway, last week, I was moving things into my apartment and I started feeling really dizzy and began to wheeze. I couldn't catch my breath and then I lowered to drop something down and when I went to stand up and move into the next room, I fainted. It was just a minute, but it was really weird. My nails and lips turned a little blue, too."

"Have you been in contact with any controlled substances?"

"What?"

"Are you taking anything? This is confidential, of course," his doctor assured.

Jake gaped openly before head shook dumbfoundedly.

Pulling stethoscope off the back of his neck, the doctor rounded the chair and plugged ears into his own. The instrument was brought up beneath his shirt and he listened carefully to the slow measured breaths that Jake pushed in and out from lungs. "Now a deep one," he instructed before humming at the obliging breath.

Withdrawing, a quick physical examination was given before the doctor strolled over to his abandoned chart. From a pocket, a prescription pad was removed and he wrote upon the manilla folder that served as a makeshift desk. "Asthma."

"I've never had asthma!"

"Sometimes new environments or stress can trigger..."

"Still. It feels like, like it's my heart not my lungs."

The doctor offered a withering look as a script was handed over. "The two systems are closely related. Here's a prescription for an emergency inhaler. If you continue to experience these attacks, come back in and we'll look at other options."