Failing Upward Ch. 19

Why Sid felt the need to go to the garden alone, I didn't understand-- I only knew that Shackleton was somehow responsible.

I crept silently as possible through the garden, noting how it was coming to life even in the dard. New shoots budding on the dogwood. My sneakers squeaked on slippery dark green patches of grass that sprouted through last fall's covering. Branches on the old maple and oak trees, still naked, moaned as the night wind pushed them. Then there were the roses.

The barren woody vines wound their way through the trellises swaying in the night air, catching at my clothes and skin. I thought of the poem and my purpose. I needed to concentrate. It was near impossible to do in this place with Sid so near.

And Sid was close. Every atom of my body yearned for him. His heat. My heart pounded and my cheeks burned.

"Wes, over here." I could just make out his face to the right of me. He grabbed my arm and tugged me over. He wore just an old white t-shirt and frayed plaid pj bottoms. His feet were bare. My arm tingled where his fingers were. I wanted him so much I hurt.

"What the hell are you doing?" I whispered. His breath warmed my face. This place always made him so fucking irresistible. Without any warning I took his mouth hard, my teeth scraping his lips. In a rush I knew he became as intoxicated as me. I crushed into my mouth into his, and he answered by crushing mine just as hard-- then he blinked and came to his senses.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he panted.

"Shh! Looking for you, dumb ass," I mumbled, trying urgently to get his interest back. I nudged his nose to get an advantage and chewed on his bottom lip. That usually worked.

He looked into my eyes as I went in for a better taste.

"Wait," he gasped, his fingers pulling at my hair. "What the hell are you talking about? Why did you come down to the garden?"

"Me? To find you. Why did you?"

I vaguely remembered Shackleton, and that I should be concerned as I rubbed my wrist raw against the fly of my jeans. I was hard.

"Looking for your sorry ass..." he gulped, pressing his forehead into mine. "I followed you."

My mind slipped over what he was saying like loose marbles while my body leaned on him for support. I was drunk with him. I pulled the string at his waist. Those flannel bottoms needed off. All I wanted was for Sid to slam inside me and make me scream. He had sense enough to pull us behind a trellis and out of the open as I slid my hand into his plaid pjs and groped him. My wrist rubbed against the seam. My fingers stretched down.

"What are you talking about?" My voice tight and level as I found him as hard as I was. "You left me asleep in bed. I woke up, and you were gone. You left the window open."

The he moaned and grabbed my wrist; his eyes warned me to stop.

"I opened the window because you were in the garden. I saw you." His voice shook as he spoke. My teeth nipped at his neck. God, I was dizzy-drunk from the scent of him. He tried hard to resist, but his cock jerked in my hand.

Then what he'd been saying--it registered. He saw me in the garden. Me.

I let go.

"What are you talking about?" I whispered. "I was in bed. I got up and looked out the window, and I couldn't see anything-- it was too dark." Reflex or want, I wasn't sure which, but his arms clamped around me, and he backed me into an old maple tree, knocking the wind out of me.

"You were there. I saw you," he repeated with such ferocity that I flinched.

"Then why didn't you wake me up?" I said, rocking my hips into his.

His face was flushed. He frowned, searching for words. "How could I if you were down in the garden?"

This wasn't getting us anywhere. His teeth clanked into mine. Yikes, was that his tongue? I was confused. He saw me, I didn't see him, he followed me, I wasn't there -- like a bad existentialist dream-- too confusing for my senses at this juncture. God, he was flicking his tongue against the roof of my mouth.

"Not here. Inside," he whispered, reading my mind.

...yeah, a nice soft mattress on the second floor... our cocks bumped together. My shivers followed Sid's shivers.

"We better get back before Shackleton shows up," I agreed.

We pulled each other along the path, mashing mouths, twisting clothes, tugging hair. Thorns tore and scratched, trying to hold us back as we made our way. We were at the entrance of the garden when Sid pushed me into the stone wall, struggling to work open the front of my jeans.

I was torn. I wanted him now. All of him. I was greedy to feel him, but I was afraid. Shackleton was near. We needed to get inside the house. I wasn't ready to let the garden win. I fought against instant gratification, grabbing Sid's ass then pushing him back, biting his neck then thrusting him through the gate's threshold. We were out. I took his hand and squeezed, pulling him toward the house. Distress grew in his eyes-- pupils large, making his eyes dark with want and fear.

A light was on in our room and a few other windows winked with flickers like hope. The back door left open, beckoned. We stumbled toward the lights. What seemed so near, became so far. My body cramped in betrayal. I grabbed my stomach and pitched forward-- every muscle a futile knot. I fell--twigs snapped under my knees. My chest was tight, and I gasped and heaved-- my forehead pressing ground. Cool. Musty. I let my cheeks roll to feel the moist rotting leaves like a healing a blessing, masking for a few feeble moments Mica's grip. I felt Sid's body smooth beside me then every muscle starting from my toes began to burn like a hot iron, and I curled into a ball seeking cool relief from the clammy ground. Sid spoke, but I didn't understand. I tried to focus on his face. Sweat burned my eyes. "Withdrawal," I finally understood-- Sid wiped my face. God, his fingers were a wisp of relief.

"Get me away from here," I choked. My muscles clenched again. Now like ice. I shook with cold. The core of me frozen solid. I thought, this must be what it's like to turn to stone.

Then I couldn't breathe.

Like a jealous lover, the garden beckoned.

Sid reached under my arms and lifted my dead weight. The haunting refrain filled him; he took only two steps then he turned around. We went back into the garden. He knew what I knew-- the only help for us was inside. Escape? There was none. We had to face this now. The garden, and him.

They were waiting at the gait.

Shackleton's voice was just as bitter as the taste in the back of my mouth. "Come inside..." was all he said. The sound of his voice and the song of the garden played dissonant.

My body quit. Sid helped me limply stand. I staggered like a town drunk. Both our footsteps fell hollow as we took the last few feet through the gate, swinging behind us, gun shining in Shackleton's hand. Ok Corral in a woody rose garden: instead of high noon, it was midnight. The night sounds around us were like a dirge's cadence.

"Nice to see you both," he said. "I've been expecting you."

"Expecting or watching?" Sid asked, more comment than question.

He laughed low and quiet. "I got the impression you wanted an audience."

I shifted uneasy next to Sid. My head was still musty, my legs still wobbly, but I had Sid.

"You've helped me so much," he said. "Made me more powerful. I brought you both down here."

"Whatever," the voice was mine from another time-- the 10-year-old me confronting a playground bully after I'd been pushed in the mud. "You didn't bring us here. The garden brought us."

"I made you see Wes," he said to Sid. "I brought you into the garden with my new powers. I made you believe. I put thoughts in your heads-- I made you see what's not there."

"Christ," Sid muttered. "You sure think a lot of yourself."

"Smirk if you want, but you know that I brought you here."

"The garden brought us here, not you," Sid hissed. "I don't have anything to say to you except leave us in peace. We're giving you a choice right now, leave us alone or else."

Shackleton laughed.

"Threats? Sid, how you have changed! I hadn't expected this from you."

"I...we've been through a lot."

"As have I."

"Nothing you didn't deserve--" Sid said, lunging toward him. I held Sid arms tight while Shackleton laughed harder.

"Ah, Karma. I forgot, you seem to believe in that nonsense," Shackleton grinned. "Your mother and father were 60s flower children, weren't they? Your lack of sense must come from them smoking far too many of those funny cigarettes before you were born. You were raised in some commune. Most likely you don't even know who your real father even is--"

"Why you--" I grabbed Sid around the waist and pulled him back. Even in the dark, I could see his face lit with anger.

"Sid, he's baiting you. Stop. It's what he wants you to do; it's what the garden wants you to do."

His shoulder muscles loosened, and he sucked it a deep lung full of midnight air. I could hear his brain cooling down by counting off to ten. I let my arms go slack around him.

"You misunderstand--" Shackleton said. "I'm here to help you." He leveled the gun at Sid's head and looked at me. "We could do this together. All share in this power. This change of thinking on your part-- I like Sid. I wouldn't mind sharing a part of this with someone of a like mind. It would be a shame to have to take such a mind out of exsistance."

"You won't take anything from us," I told him. "Nothing."

"This doesn't have to be the end of you." The finality in Shackleton's voice made me flinch.

"You aren't going to get any where pointing that 33 at Sid. Put down the gun, and we'll talk."

I stepped toward Shackleton, wedging my body between Sid and his sights.

I coughed.

"The way I see it, you don't have power," Sid said. "Your hocus-pocus didn't get us into the garden. Even if by some chance you had something to do with it, so what? It's not worth shit."

I concentrated. I tried mentally forcing the gun from Shackleton's hand, but it didn't work. I didn't like the direction this was going. The garden seemed to be working against me.

"Nothing you have would even tempt us to join you," Sid said.

"I can move objects with my mind," he said.

"Precognition? PK? Big deal. So could Uri Geller. So can Wes."

"I can see what people are thinking when I touch them."

"I've been able to do that since I was a kid," I said. "You're not impressing me at all."

"I can kill mortals with a thought. Can you?"

"Never tried. Don't want to."

"I didn't say I did, I only said I can. There is a difference. So join me. Join me, and he'll be safe."

"Shackleton stop. You're not getting anything, not Sid, not me, not my family, and I'm not going to let you hurt innocent people."

"Don't make it come to this," he said, pointing the gun again at Sid. "I do think your lover has value. I'd hate to destroy something with so much potential."

"Put the gun down. I won't let you shoot him. Besides, someone as powerful as you doesn't need a gun," I said. A thorn caught on the leg of my jeans as I stepped forward. This time Sid grabbed me.

"Someone as powerful you should realized that guns don't matter," he answered. "That is the shame of this. I could show how to use your powers. Think of what you could do with them. Cure disease. Stop pain. End crime. The possibilities are limitless."

"Forget it." Sid said. "You don't want his kind of power. You never would. You're not that kind of person." Sid looked at Shackleton. "Seems to me you have all the power you need now. Anyone who could conjure up thoughts in other's minds doesn't need much else."

Sid put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed. I straightened my back. I had to do this. He gave my shoulder two more squeezes then let his hand drop.

"Wes, you of all people should know that it's never enough," Shackleton said. "I want what I always wanted, to have your powers-- all your powers. I want to move through other universes. Alter perception on a grand scale. I'm close, so close to my goal. I need you to get there."

"You'd like that," Sid said, trying to pull my leg free from the thorny vines, instead the tendrils squeezed tighter.

"Put the gun down," I ordered. "Leave. You don't know what I'm capable of."

"There is much you could do with your power. You are superior. Our benevolence would be endless. We'd care for all mortals like our own children."

"You're talking like we're part of some gods on Mt. Olympus. We're no gods. Shit, you're as human as me."

"Ha. But you aren't. And I'm not. You've always known you weren't like everyone else. The rest of the immortals left walking the earth are only half- breeds. I am but made-- like Deal and others at the Community. You are a throw-back. You are like the first of them who came to our world."

"It doesn't make sense. If I came from some alien race who were immortal, they would still be here."

"They are. They are just in another form. They evolved long ago."

"Into what?" I asked.

I tugged at the woody vine that had attached itself so mightily. I felt it wind around and tighten, its barbs burying into my thighs. I no longer tried to pull away. I understood.

"The roses," Sid whispered behind me.

I let go of all control. The garden wasn't against me. I was wrong. I'd always had my thinking wrong. Shackleton showed me the way. All along I was doing this the same way he had, with control. Controlling wasn't the answer-- no, the answer was letting go. Letting life be to live itself. That was what my parents had let me know in Blake's poem. We are nature. Selfless.

I smiled. Shackleton thought he understood. He had no clue. As the rose's tendrils crawled and crept across the ground, he stared at me in horror and stepped back.

I heard far off voices. I wasn't sure who or what they were-- the garden had come alive. She became me, and I became her. She woke the parts frozen inside of me. The tendrils wound around-- up my legs to my wrists-- Shackleton's wrists. We became a part of Her. I felt Shackleton through Her-- his lost soul, an empty space. My disgust for him turned to pity. He looked at me with hatred, such hatred, because I pitied him. He fired the gun at me, at Sid. The shots were deafening. My shoulder burned for an instant. Panic and purpose washed through me. I pushed it back and let Her guide me.

I dug hard into my wrist, over the old scar. My nail caught on the barb of the old thorn beneath. A pointed spark of pain shot up my arm. It was stubborn. I bit into my arm, the second try I caught the thorn between my teeth. I closed my eyes. We wished, the garden and I, for all this to end. We wished for Shackleton to be mortal. For all to have a beginning and end. I didn't doubt Her. She was tired. She wanted a place beyond these old stone fences-- she wanted to go home.

Our memories merged. So many answers. What I was. What she was. She was one of the first. She showed where we came from-- the amber skies and vast plains. She knew my heart too-- what I wanted-- who I loved.

My parents had left me a riddle. Now I understood; it's how we love that's important.

Our last wishes were the most difficult-- for everything to be as before all this happened. We both wanted to go home.

Shackleton learned all this too. The pain grew inside him; a poor soul dwelling in the realms of night. To not know love, only hate. He despised us both for having a home. She pitied him more than I for this. She pulled Shackleton to the ground, tearing his flesh from his bones with brutal love. The look on his face was somewhere between rapture and acceptance for he could feel. He was human. I felt for moments there, as life left him and his muscles exposed, blood vessels exploding, that he understood that "which was born in a night to perish in a night." His blood clotted and was welcomed by the ground beneath my feet-- he became food for new life. His muscles liquefied until they could not longer bear the weight of his bones, and he collapsed in a heap. Then I spat the thorn out on the mound that was him. The garden wept for all her years lost yearning. Wept in happiness to go home.

I stepped over Shackleton's bones and out of the circle where Her brittle vines had dropped. Her last song lingered, more beautiful than any false melody I might ever wish to create. I sobbed for her-- someone I now knew more intimately than I knew myself. My chest ached for Her loss, yet I let go to see She would finally have peace.

She wept in return for me. As I turned I saw Sid's body, face pale upon the ground, the last flecks of life from Her fine vines kissing his cold lips.