Date: Wed, 23 Jan 2002 15:19:45 -0800
From: D S <denis141@hotmail.com>
Subject: ALONE/TOGETHER- Chapter 21 ~ ANNUS MIRABILIS,
     Part Two: At the Edge of Summer

At last, the next chapter is here.  For some reason (perhaps because of
their length), the chapters are taking longer to write these days.  I hope
it's worth the wait.  As you may have noticed, I'm expanding the cast of
characters a bit.  This is mainly motivated by my belief that to depict
Lance and JC more fully, I need to have them interact with a broader range
of people, etc.  That being said, I'll just add that, for you people out
there who like Justin, this chapter is for you.  Thanks to all who wrote to
me about the last chapter; I really appreciated it - especially after the
email drought inspired by the previous chapter.  The email address is the
same, denis141@hotmail.com.  So write me, damn it!

	DEDICATION:  This chapter is for the lovely Mel, who knows why.

DISCLAIMER:  I don't know any member of NSYNC, and this story purely a work
of fiction.  This story also contains male-male sex (albeit mostly implied),
so, if that's not your thing, or if you aren't old enough to read such
things, you should stop reading now.


CHAPTER 21:  ANNUS MIRABILIS ~ Part Two: At The Edge of Summer.

AS consequent from store of summer rains,
Or wayward rivulets in autumn flowing,
Or many a herb-lined brook's reticulations,
Or subterranean sea-rills making for the sea,
Songs of continued years I sing.

Life's ever-modern rapids first, (soon, soon to blend,
With the old streams of death.)

* * *
In you whoe'er you are my book perusing,
In I myself, in all the world, these currents flowing,
All, all toward the mystic ocean tending.
		-- As Consequent, Etc., Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass (1900).

April 27, 2007

	"Justin," JC said, standing up from where he'd been sitting near
the edge of the pool and then holding out his hand.  "Give me the bottle.
You've had enough."

	"It ain't empty yet, baby," Justin said, the words coming out
slowly, as if he had to concentrate on how to make his mouth and tongue
speak them.  "And if it ain't empty, I ain't done."

	"Look," JC said, his voice rising.  "You can barely stand up.  It's
late.  It's cold.  And I'm tired.  So give me the damn bottle."

	"Go to fucking bed then," Justin said, taking a step back and
waving the bottle in the direction of the house.  "I ain't your kid, and I
don't need no babysitter."

	"I'm not going inside without you," JC said, still holding his hand
out.  "Now give me the bottle."

	"Fine," Justin said, swinging his arm in a crooked arc across the
front of his body and tossing the bottle toward JC.  "Take it then."

	The toss was sudden and unexpected, and it caught JC off guard.
The bottle was nearly empty, but still heavy, and it hit JC solidly in the
face.  JC's vision was blurred by the pain of the impact, and he barely
managed to catch the bottle as it fell against his left shoulder and then
bounced down the front of his chest and stomach.  He caught the bottle as
it hit his thighs, splashing most of the remaining whiskey all over his
khaki shorts.  He sat down hard on the flagstone pavers that encircled the
swimming pool, his knees hitting first, and then his left hip.

	JC could taste the blood on his lower lip, and he could hardly see.
He knew that Justin had not meant to hurt him, to hit him with the bottle
he had so thoughtlessly tossed.  He also knew that Justin was not the type
to run off mad, and he would not be far away; he hated to be alone.  It was
why he'd shown up, unexpected and without a call first; his tour was over,
and Justin had been unable to tolerate even two days alone in his house in
Los Angeles, two days of doing not much more than playing videogames, and
talking on the telephone, and wandering around a huge house that, after
five years of owning it, was still nearly unfurnished, and empty, even when
Justin was there.

	Reaching his hand into the pool, JC splashed water against his face
and into his mouth.  When he spit into the pool, the resulting glob of
blood and saliva looked like a large red spider as it dissipated and seemed
to crawl toward the filter intake.  JC looked down at his knee, prompted by
a jab of pain he had not noticed before, and saw that his it was bleeding
too, his left one; he had scraped it sitting down.  Standing up slowly, and
unsteadily, JC blinked several times and forced his vision to clear.
Looking down he saw the scattered bits of paper that had once been the
label on the whiskey bottle Justin had drank from all day long.  As he'd
sat silently beside him, their bare legs dangling in the pool, JC had
watched Justin slowly peel the label away, flicking each small bit of it to
his side - probably without even knowing he was doing it.

	"Justin!" JC shouted, looking for Justin among the shadows that
populated the back yard when the floodlights were off, and only the
backdoor light was on.

	"Justin!" JC shouted again, this time walking toward the gazebo but
then seeing him curled up in the grass beneath the avocado tree.

	"Justin," JC said, not shouting now, and nudging him gently in the
ribs with his bare toe.  "Come on.  Get up."

	"No," Justin said in a nearly incoherent mumble.  "I wanna sleep on
the grass."

	"Justin," JC said, crouching down and putting his hand on Justin's
shoulder. "You can't stay out here.  You're drunk.  And you'll freeze."

	"I wanna sleep on the grass," Justin said.  "It feels good."

	"Justin - seriously," JC said.  "Come inside.  Please."

	"I don't want to," Justin said.  "I like it here.  You go inside.
I'll be okay."

	"No, Justin," JC said.  "I'm not going inside without you.  And I
mean it."

	"Why are you doing this?" Justin said in a voice so loud that it
startled JC and caused him to pull his hand from Justin's shoulder.  "I
just wanna sleep on the grass."

	"Okay, then," JC said, lying down next to him.  "I guess I'll sleep
here too.  And we can freeze to death together."

	"No!" Justin shouted, sitting up and looking at JC. "No."

	JC squinted at first, and turned his head in that quizzical way
that dogs sometimes do when spoken to.  A minute passed with neither of
them saying anything.  Justin picked his right hand up off the grass,
brushed it roughly on the side of his shorts, and extended a trembling
index finger toward JC's bloody lip.  He touched it and then looked at the
blood on the tip of his finger.

	"Did I do that," Justin asked, his voice soft and his words
suddenly clear.

	"Yes.  But, don't worry about it," JC said, standing up.  "Let's
just go inside. It's warm in there.  Come on."

	Justin took hold of JC's extended hand and pulled himself up off
the grass.
  He wobbled unsteadily at first, but then found his balance as JC put his
arm around the small of his back.  The two of them walked in silence to the
small bright bulb that shined above the back door of the house.  If seen
from behind, each would have seemed like a similar silhouette, slender and
tall, with arms and legs that comprised most of their bodies; and they
would have then disappeared into a dark rectangle that was the open back
door; and then the light would have gone out, and the back yard would have
been abandoned to the dark, except for what light the night sky provided,
which on this night was little enough, because it was the night of the new
moon, and only a few stars were visible through the low clouds that
scudded, now unnoticed, above the flat and tenebrous sea.

	Inside the house, JC guided Justin to the bed in the guest room and
watched as he fell into it, causing the headboard to bang noisily against
the wall.  Justin reached behind his head and grabbed a pillow and wrapped
his arms around it and clutched it to his chest.  He gasped softly as he
did this, as if he had, without thinking, forced the breath out of his own
lungs.  JC stood beside the bed and watched Justin for a moment, trying to
see if he was asleep; and then, when he thought he was asleep, he took a
large blue wool-flannel blanket from the bottom drawer of the armoire in
the corner of the room, and carefully unfurled it over Justin, covering him
with it, and tucking it in around arms and legs.

	"Are you going to be okay?" JC said softly, still not sure if
Justin was asleep yet, and wanting to be sure.

	"Yeah," Justin said, his voice muffled by the pillow he'd pressed
against his face.  "I'm just gonna sleep."

	"Good," JC said, patting the edge of the bed and turning to leave
the room.

	"Wait," Justin said, reaching out from under the blanket to grab at
JC's hand, but missing it.  "Will you stay and talk to me until I fall
asleep?"

	"Sure," JC said, sitting on the bed, and then sliding next to
Justin and leaning back again the headboard, which was deeply padded and
upholstered in off-white suede. "What should I talk about?"

	"I don't know," Justin said.  "Anything.  Or just sit there.
That's okay too."

	The room was dark except for the weak light that leaked through the
clerestory windows that ran in a narrow band along the top of the wall
behind JC's head.  During the day, if you stood in the doorway, and looked
up at these windows, it seemed as if the ceiling floated unsupported by
anything other than light.  But now the light was weak and eerie and it
illuminated little more than the gentle rise and fall of Justin's chest as
he fell asleep.  JC could not see Justin's face, but he imagined (or hoped)
that the tense creases he'd seen there had eased and disappeared.  Having
watched Justin walk towards him this morning, when he'd shown up just after
ten, his breath smelling of cigarettes and beer, JC had been most surprised
by how old Justin looked, and how diminished, as if from some kind of
malnutrition that had deprived him of power, and what had once made him so
imposing.  When JC had asked him what was wrong, asked him more than once,
all he'd gotten in reply was the usual swagger, a swagger that had never
been wholly convincing and was then, at that moment, not convincing at all.

	JC decided to stay with Justin for a while longer.  He wanted to
make sure that Justin was asleep for the night.  He knew it was
unnecessary, and that Justin was unlikely to wake up again any time
soon. Still, it was something that JC wanted to do; it made him feel like
he was being a good friend, and that was how he had wanted to feel, to feel
like Justin's friend, which he hoped he still was, because it wasn't as if
Justin had many - or any - friends anymore.  JC was not sure how this had
happened, but he knew that it had, like the steady erosion of water lapping
at a sandy shore, not noticeable at first, but then suddenly irreversible.

	Imagining the movement of water over sand, like the water that
sometimes flowed through the arroyo that cut across land in front of the
house, JC fell slowly asleep.  When he awoke, later that same morning, he
knew immediately that he was not in his own bed.  The muscles along the
back of his neck were tight and sore from having slept with his head
pressed awkwardly against the headboard.  The indirect sun of early Spring
shone through the window above JC's head and created a band of light midway
up the opposite wall.  It occurred to him that it was probably possible to
tell what time it was, if only inexactly, by where the sunlight was on the
wall, like a kind of vertical sundial.  Thinking this made JC feel clever,
and he smiled as he imagined telling Lance about his idea.

	JC raised himself upright and got up off the bed.  Justin was still
asleep and still in the same position as before; even the blanket had not
moved.  Leaving the room, JC went into the kitchen to check the time.  It
was half past eight.  Lance would not be home until later than night; his
and Aaron's flight didn't get in until six.  He would let Justin sleep, and
then wake him up in time for lunch - if he wasn't up by then.  In the
meantime, he would take a shower, get dressed, and go to the grocery store
before it got too crowded.  JC enjoyed going to the grocery store, a fact
that he could not easily explain.  It was a wholly mundane task, which was
probably what he liked the most about it, how ordinary it was, and
necessary, and inescapably practical.

	The first few times he'd gone to the grocery store, after the house
was just built, but when the band was still touring and selling albums by
the million, he was worried he'd be mobbed by people seeking autographs.
But it never happened.  It was as if no one could imagine - at least back
then - JC of NSync pushing a shopping cart around the Whole Foods Market on
Villa La Jolla Drive, filling it with milk and bread and canned peaches and
toilet paper and plastic wrap and dishwashing detergent and dried pasta and
tomatoes and the crackers that Lance liked so much. Then, when JC would
arrive back at home, and unload the grocery bags from the car, and put
everything away, he always felt as if he'd accomplished something
meaningful and real.  It made him happy.

	JC poured himself a small glass of grapefruit juice and took it
upstairs with him.  It didn't take him long to shower and get dressed and
find his keys on top of the dresser. As he was about to go, JC heard slow
thudding footsteps coming down the hall.  Turning around he saw Justin in
the door way.  He'd taken his shoes and socks and t-shirt off, but he was
still wearing the camouflage shorts he'd showed up in yesterday.  Justin's
hands were shoved into the pockets of his shorts, pushing them down past
the top of his hips and exposing at least two inches of light brown pubic
hair.

	"Hey," Justin said, nodding at JC and shrugging.  "Thanks for the
blanket."

	 "Don't mention it," JC said.

	"And, uh - Sorry 'bout hurting your lip," Justin said, pointing at
it, and quickly looking down at his feet.  "I didn't mean..."

	"I know," JC said, cutting him off.  "It was an accident."

	"I was being stupid," Justin said.

	"No, you were being drunk," JC said.  "Which is stupid, of course.
But it doesn't matter, and I'm not mad."

	"Yeah, okay," Justin said, looking up and noticing the keys in JC's
hand.  "So, you heading somewhere?"

	"I was going to the grocery store," JC said.  "Lance and Aaron get
home tonight and I thought I'd pick up some stuff we need, for dinner, and
maybe something for us to have lunch later.  You're going to stay aren't
you?"

	"I dunno," Justin said, shrugging again. "I don't wanna be all
freeload on you."

	"Since when is staying with friends 'all freeload'?" JC said.

	"I dunno," Justin said.  "I don't wanna be a bother.  That's all."

	"You won't be," JC said.  "Besides, Lance'll be glad to see you.
Just like I am."

	"Where'd he be at again?" Justin asked, pulling his shorts up.

	"He had to go to Marin County three day ago to loop dialogue for
the final sound mix on Absalom, his next movie," JC said.  "They're doing
it up at Skywalker Ranch so he took Aaron with him so he could see all the
Star Wars stuff."

	"That's fly," Justin said.  "Remember when we did that cameo in the
second Star Wars episode, Attack of the Clones?  I'll never forget that. We
was rocking."

	"Totally!" JC said, smiling broadly at the memory of it.  "Remember
how Joey kept knocking over that one Battle Droid by mistake, and George
Lucas finally got so fed up he threatened to take his light saber away from
him."

	"I'll never forget the look on Joey's face," Justin said, laughing.
"He was so not giving up that light saber."

	"No way," JC said, laughing too.

	"Hey," Justin said, finally breaking the silence that had settled
over them.  "So how's Aaron doing?"

	"He's doing really good," JC said.

	"You know, I always figured you and Lance would be good at this,"
Justin said.  "Being together, and with Aaron."

	"Thanks," JC said..

	"Um...anyway," Justin said.  "D'ya think I could go to the store
with you?"

  	"If you want," JC said.  "Sure."

	"Right on," Justin said.  "I gotta shower first, and then we can
go."

	JC watched as Justin disappeared out of the doorway.  The sound of
his loping run was noisy down the hall, and it made JC smile.

May 5, 2007

	Aaron ran across the kitchen and toward the living room, his bare
feet slapping against the tiled floor.  He was wearing white flannel
pajamas that were nearly too small, and his face was flushed pink from
having just finished a bath.  Lance was several strides behind Aaron,
watching him as he scampered toward the couch where Justin sat playing
video games.  Justin easily heard Aaron's noisy approach, but he pretended
not to so that Aaron could climb over the back of the couch and play "sneak
attack", or run in front of the television, and block Justin's view.  This
time Aaron got on his hands and knees and crawled around the couch and
sprung up in front of the television.

	"Hey, hey, Uncle J!" Aaron shouted, raising his left hand in the
air, palm out.

	"Hey, hey, Big A," Justin said, after first acting surprised and
dropping the game controller on the floor.  "Wassup?"

	"Nada," Aaron said, giggling, and jumping up and down until Justin
gave him a high five, and then giggling even more.

	"Justin," Lance said, coming up behind him and poking his shoulder.
"Don't teach him to talk that way."

	"What?" Justin said, turning his head around and grinning at Lance.
"I just be showin' Big A here how to get down wit da boys."

	"Um...No," Lance said, trying hard not to smile, since he'd always
been amused by what he thought of as Justin's shtick.  "And no teaching him
to beat-box either.  Or you are so dead."

	"Geez A," Justin said, turning back toward Aaron and pulling him on
to his lap and buttoning his pajama top.  "Sounds like Lance is putting the
hammer down."

	"Hammer down!" Aaron said, bouncing on Justin's lap.

	"Slow down there A," Justin said.  "You gotta hold still if you
want me to get this thing buttoned for you."

	Aaron giggled and squirmed off Justin's lap once all of the buttons
were done up.  Picking up the game controller from where Justin had dropped
it on the floor, Aaron looked up at Lance and said, "Can I do video
please?"

	"Sorry, big guy," Lance said, holding out his hand to Aaron.  "Time
for bed."

	"No," Aaron said, turning the word into a long whining protest.

	"Aaron," Lance said, his voice deepening into the lower range of
its bass tones.

	Aaron looked at Justin and leaned against his legs, obviously
hoping for some sort of intercession on his behalf.  Justin shrugged his
shoulders, but said nothing.

	"I got to go to bed now," Aaron said, handing the controller to
Justin.

	"G'night, A," Justin said, giving Aaron a hug, and then patting him
on the back as he walked around the end of the couch toward Lance's still
outstretched hand.

	"Night, Uncle J," Aaron said letting Lance pick him up.

	"Josh is upstairs getting dinner done," Lance said, stopping as he
was about to leave the room, and turning back toward Justin.  "So you can
come upstairs whenever.  Melanie should be here soon too."

	"Cool," Justin said, standing up.  "I need to get changed first."

	"Great," Lance said.  "See you upstairs."

* * * * *

	Justin was leaning against the wall in the kitchen upstairs.  He
had changed into a black pair of pants that he'd bought that day and a pale
gray shirt he'd borrowed from JC.  Soft music was coming from a nearby
ceiling speaker, and Justin hummed along with it as he looked out the
window and watched the moon appear and begin to rise.  It was just a
quarter full, but bright and glowing.

	"So, who's this chick again," Justin asked as he chewed on a black
olive he had just popped into his mouth.

	"She's not a chick, Justin" Lance said.  "She's a physician.
Aaron's pediatrician, to be exact.  And her name is Melanie Rhys."

	"Yeah," Justin said, popping a second olive into his mouth.  "But I
don't know 'bout this blind date thing."

	"It's not a blind date," JC said, looking up from the large pan of
sauce puttanesca he was stirring. "We invited her to dinner for Lance's
birthday.  That's all."

	"She's a friend of ours," Lance added.

	"Okie-dokie," Justin said, rolling his eyes.

	"Hey, can you finish setting the table Lance," JC said, putting the
lid back on the pan he'd been stirring.  "And open the wine."

	"Done, and done," Lance said.

	"How about water glasses?"

	"Done," Lance said, cocking one eyebrow and grinning at JC.
"Anything else you want me to do that I already did."

	"I can't believe you two," Justin said, laughing.

	"That's all right," JC said.  "No one else can either."

	"Hey, she's here," Lance said, hearing the doorbell ring.  "Justin,
can you get that while I check to see if Aaron is asleep?"

	"No way," Justin said.  "You get da damn door."

	"Well someone get the damn door," JC said.

* * * * *

	"Oh - man, JC," Justin said, pushing his chair away from the
table. "That was some wicked tasty grub."

	"Yeah," Lance said. "It was really, really good."

	"Yes," Melanie said, folding her napkin and setting it next to her
plate.  "It was delicious.  A little spicy, but still quite good."

	""Well, I'm glad everyone liked it," JC said, smiling.  "It's super
easy to make.  I got the recipe out of that Naked Chef guy's cookbook."

	"Is that like some gay thing?" Justin asked, cocking his head and
looking puzzled.

	"Oh lord no," Melanie said, laughing.  "He's an annoying Brit with
a fat tongue.  I really can't stand him, but I hear his cookbook works
well."

	"Fat tongue?" Lance said.

	"Is that like a medical condition?" Justin asked.

	"Probably," Melanie said, smiling at Justin.  "Not that I know it's
proper name - assuming it has one.  But this Naked Chef person, he's rather
hyperactive, and ever so pleased with himself.  Don't you think Joshua?"

	JC had stood up and was clearing the plates and stacking them on
the sideboard next to the dining room table.

	"I've only seen him a few times," JC said.  "He's kind of hot,
actually."

	"No!" Melanie said, more loudly than she'd intended.

	"Watch out," Justin said, poking Lance in the arm.

	Lance rolled his eyes and said: "I've seen him once.  On the
television, that is. He's okay looking, but he's got nothing on me, does he
Josh?"

	"He cooks," JC said, smirking at Lance and then kissing the top of
his head. "But, no - he's got nothing on you, which by law I'm bound to
say, because it's your birthday."

	"So, Doctor R," Justin said.  "How come you live in San Diego now?
Ain't you from Australia?"

	"You really should call me Melanie," she said, frowning slightly.
"Or Mel, if you must, because I've never really gone in for nicknames.  Not
to sound overly serious, or anything, but it really is a bit annoying."

	"Well, there you have it," Justin said, not at all put off.
"Melanie it is then."

	"Thank you," she said.

	"Does anyone want more wine," Lance asked, picking up the plates
that JC had stacked on the sideboard and about to leave the room.  "I can
open another bottle."

	"No, I'm fine," Justin said, taking a sip of water and leaning back
in his chair.

	"Me as well," Melanie said.

	"Great then," Lance said.  "I'm going to help Josh with the
dishes."

	Justin and Melanie smiled at Lance and watched him leave with the
plates.  The room in which they'd eaten dinner was small; it was not
usually used for guests, and more than four people would have been a tight
fit. Three pillar candles burned in the center of the table, and their
light cast flickering shadows on the wall. Justin watched Melanie out of
the corner of his eye, wanting to look at her more directly, but suddenly
too shy to do so.  It was a strange feeling for him, and one that made him
uncomfortable.

	"So you said you're from Melbourne?" Justin said.

	"Yes.  I studied medicine at the University of Melbourne.  And I
lived there too."

	"Is that a good school?"

	"Actually, it is," Melanie said.  "It's the oldest medical school
in Australia.  It was established in 1862.  I studied pediatric medicine
there, and did both my internship and residency at the Royal Children's
Hospital."

	"Take that," Justin said.  "I mean, that's impressive."

	"Do you think?" Melanie said, leaning closer to Justin.  "I've
never really thought about it in those terms.  But I suppose it is."

	"I never went to college or anything," Justin said, looking at her
directly now.  "I always wanted to, in a way.  I don't know why?"

	"You should have then," Melanie said, taking a sip of wine.

	"Was it hard?" Justin said.  "Medical school, I mean."

	"It was for me," Melanie said.  "The intensity of it.  And not
wanting to fail."

	"I can relate to that," Justin said, looking now at the candles and
the halo of light each seemed to make on the ceiling.  "But you didn't."

	"No, actually I did," Melanie said.  "Or so I thought at the time.
You see, I had intended to be a pediatric oncologist."

	"What's that?  An oncologist?"

	"Oncology is the study and treatment of cancer," Melanie said.
"And it was what had made me want to be a physician in the first place.
But..."

	Melanie paused for several seconds, and looked past Justin, over
his left shoulder, at the window behind him.  Her finger tips rested on the
edge of the table, as one would if hanging from the edge of it, with her
palms perpendicular and her fingers extended and straight except for her
fingertips which were bent just above the knuckle.

	"You can't possibly be interested in this, can you?" Melanie said.

	"I am though," Justin said, resting his chin in his hands.
"Really."

	"Well," Melanie said, continuing.  "I had begun my residency -
doing rounds in pediatric oncology - and had been at it for several months
when I started to realize that I couldn't go on with it, which was an
extremely difficult thing for me to admit to myself, because it - the
residency position, was much prized and a challenge to obtain. A professor
of mine, Corey Turnbull, had staked his considerable reputation vouching
for my suitability, and I knew that he would be angry if I quit."

	"What was wrong?" Justin asked.  "What made you want to quit?"

	"I'm not entirely sure how to explain it," Melanie said, looking at
Justin again and then letting go of the table's edge and putting her hands
in her lap.  "In medicine, there is always more unknown than known - about
a patient, or an illness, or anything, really. It's not like mathematics,
for example, where you can readily determine when you have the correct
answer, or like geology where you can take some unidentified piece of metal
and, after a few simple tests, determine that it's tungsten, or some such
thing."

	"Did that bother you?  The not knowing?"

	"Oh, not at all," Melanie said. "Indeed, it would have been
pitifully boring to have all the answers at one's fingertips.  No, it was
the futility of it that shocked me.  I don't know why - why I was shocked,
that is.  But I was; and it made me feel foolish in a way that I'd never
felt before.  I mean, how could someone be shocked by the fact that cancer
ends mostly in death, and that in children it does much more often than
not."

	"Man-that's got to be tough," Justin said.  "Taking care of some
little kid you know won't make it, or probably won't."

	"Well, it's tougher for some than other," Melanie said.  "It was
certainly tough for me - which was, of course, why I resigned my position."

	"Are you sorry?"

	"I was at first," Melanie said.  "But no longer.  I enjoy my
practice, and feel quite fortunate to have an assortment of really lovely
children for which to provide care."

	"Like Aaron."

	"Yes. Like Aaron," Melanie said, beginning to stand up.

	Justin stood up as Melanie did, and pulled her chair to one side
for her so that she could step back from the table.  She smiled at him, and
nodded her head.  Justin smiled back, and nodded his head too.  He watched
as Melanie left the room, resisting the urge to follow her.  Instead,
Justin imagined that she'd be gone for only a few moments, and would soon
return.  She's probably headed for the bathroom, he thought, or maybe to
the kitchen to see if Lance or JC needed any help with the dishes.  But
somehow - he did not know how - Justin knew she wasn't leaving; she was too
polite to leave without saying goodbye; and knowing this made him smile.

June 27, 2007

	It was just past nine now, and Justin was sitting at the edge of
the swimming pool, his bare legs dangling in the water.  The moon was full
and bright and so high in the sky that its reflection in the pool seemed to
reproduce the moon's jagged, ghostly-white landscape across the surface of
the water.  The night air was warm and still and he could smell the nearby
eucalyptus trees and the lilacs that had just begun to bloom.  Hearing the
back door open and close, he turned and saw Melanie walking slowly toward
him.

	"Lance and JC say hello," she said.

	"How'd the premiere go?" Justin said, sliding to the right as if to
make room for Melanie to sit down even though there was no need to do so.

	"Joshua reports that it went very well," Melanie said, sitting near
Justin but not putting her legs in the pool.  "The film was very
well-received, and there was a standing ovation at the end for the director
and the cast."

	"Right on," Justin said, tilting his head back and looking up at
the sky.  "Did they get to talk to Aaron?"

	"No, he was already asleep, and they didn't want me to wake him."

	The two of them sat silently for several minutes. As they did so,
Justin pointed his toes toward the bottom of the pool and kicked his legs
slowly back and forth in the water, causing a series of small smooth
ripples to cross the width of the pool.  He watched each one as it
disappeared as it reached the far side.

	"This is a beautiful place," Justin said, staring intently at the
water, as if he'd lost something in its depths.

	"It is," Melanie said. "Quite beautiful."

	"I used to be so jealous of it," Justin said.  "For years I was."

	"Why?" Melanie asked, turning to face him.  "You have a house,
don't you?"

	"Three," Justin said.  "One in L.A., one in Orlando, and one in
Nashville."

	"Then I don't understand," Melanie said, still looking at him, but
with her eyes slightly squinted now, and her forehead creased.  "Then
what's there to be jealous of."

	"How they built it," Justin said, kicking one foot out of the water
and sending a long plume of water splashing across the width of the pool.
"How they did it together. And how it's like their dream come true."

	"Well, I imagine that they worked quite hard to make it so,"
Melanie said, turning to watch the water as its evanescent surface smoothed
and calmed again.  "Things like this don't happen of their own devices.
Not like in dreams."

	"Oh, I know that," Justin said.  "I learned dreams a while ago."

	"How so?" Melanie asked.

	"It's a long story," Justin said, kicking another plume of water
across the pool.

	"Well, you needn't tell me if you'd rather not," Melanie said.
"But I'm happy to listen, if you'd like."

	"Seriously?"

	"Of course."

	"Okay, it goes like this," Justin said, speaking softly.  "I was in
love once.  And I thought I was getting married."

	"You were engaged then?"

	"Yeah - engaged," Justin said.

	"Had you known her for a long time?"

	"Like my whole life," Justin said.  "I met her when I was eleven
years old.
  She was the only girlfriend I'd ever had."

	"Anyway," Justin continued.  "We bought a house together, a big one
in the hills in L.A.  We were hardly ever there together, but I figured
that once we got married, and settled down more, it would be our home.
Like this place is for JC and Lance."

	"I understand."

	"Well, to make a long story short, it didn't work out."

	Melanie said nothing, waiting for Justin to continue.  She stared
at his face, and the look of disgust that formed on it.  His lower lip
trembled, as if he was about to speak, but then he stood up and she could
no longer tell if it was still trembling.  Justin shook the water from his
legs and Melanie felt a few drops of water splash against her arm.  The
sudden feeling of it raised goose bumps on the back of her neck and made
her shudder.

	  "We'd been engaged for over a year," Justin said, finally going
on with his story. "And see, I was pressing her to, you know, set a date
for the wedding.  But she just never would.  She kept saying, 'What's the
rush?" or 'Let's wait until after the tour.' There was always an excuse.
Always.  Until finally the excuse was that she'd fallen in love with
someone else - some guy she'd met making a charity album right after the
9/11 thing.  It was sick.  But that was still that."

	"How long ago was this?" Melanie said, standing up now too.

	"When I finally found out about it?"

	"Yes."

	"Exactly four years and two months ago today."

	"And since then?"

	"Since then what?"

	"You've not been in love again."

	"Nope," Justin said.  "I'm out of the love business.  For good."

	The two of them walked in silence toward the small bright bulb that
shined above the back door of the house.  As they reached the door, Justin
leaned forward to open it for Melanie, and then followed her inside,
allowing it to close behind him with a soft thud.  He locked the door and
turned off the light.  Turning around, Justin watched Melanie slowly climb
the stairs.  He suspected she'd check on Aaron one last time before going
to bed.  Watching her about to disappear at the top of the stairs, Justin
suddenly realized he had never met anyone like her before, and he wondered
why.

	"Good night Melanie," Justin called after her, causing her to pause
at the top of the stairs.

	Melanie turned toward Justin, bending over the wooden stair
railing.  There was no light turned on, but he could clearly see her
standing there, illuminated from behind by moonlight.  She was smiling at
him, and her auburn hair looked almost as if it was aglow.

	"Good night Justin," she said.  "I hope you have sweet dreams."

	Justin watched as Melanie disappeared upstairs and he wondered for
a moment if she had ever been there at all.