Jessie looks out into the barren plains that stretch for miles toward the horizon. The sky, a semi dark shade of blackened blue, allows his mind to float freely in its thoughts...his body to feel the aching agony of his all encompassing loneliness.
"I have to find him. Someone. Anyone." Words spoken to the gentle evening breeze. He shouts: "YOU! Yeah, you out there. I'm here for you. Waiting. Please answer me."
The weekend unfolds in its usual way. Jessie drove up alone on Friday night, after leaving work. He spent the next two days trying to relax. Walking in the warm afternoon sun, nearly naked on this deserted plain, made him feel...connected, somehow. To nature, that is.
"I just want this isolation to end. Maybe if I..." He shuts down the horribly negative thought. Suicide is just not in his DNA. So besides a bit of lounging by the local stream, Jessies spends most of the weekend draining his heavy balls of their pent up milk. That always seems to pass the time. He loves the high of cumming. It's the sadness of coming down from the high that gets him depressed once again. Like a sugar junkie, our boy, all of 19, keeps reverting to self-pleasuring his hunky gym body for the temporary release it gives him.
"Why can't I just have a boyfriend? I'm not the best looking guy...but I've seen butt ugly dudes with boyfriends! Cute ones, to boot. I'm normal. I'm not mean. Not jealous. Not happy." He is shy by nature. He had a few friends in high school. Nothing too close. Well, accept for that one guy who tried to kiss him.
"No. Just jerk me off. Kissing is for girls." He would later regret that remark.
Jessie has a lot to regret for the short time he has been alive. A forced introvert (he got rejected by the world at a very young age) he can barely stomach the successes he constantly reaches for. Feeling 'not good enough' is his Achilles heel. It prevents Jessie from exploring, from accepting, from achieving his wants and desires.
"So long, my cabin on the plains friend. Maybe next time you'll get a surprise and I'll come here with a lover." He hangs his head dejectedly, and shuffles over to his bike. It's a two hour ride back to his parents house. Jessie lives alone with them. They are good people; they simply do not understand his issues. The ride is always serene. Barren plains become thinly wooded islands of green; then thickly studded vistas of strong wood as he approaches his town once again. Nothing new. Nothing unusual. Nothing...
Part 2 -
"HELP! help! please. PLEASE HELP ME!" The bike is on its side, liquids seeping to the ground near Jessie's immobile body. He is stunned, bruised, and weakened by the fall. The pain in one leg is radiating through him, not unlike some pleasant experiences of the weekend - just carrying a different message to his brain. Then he hears it. The screeching of tires on the hot country road. The sound of gravel kicking up and landing all around him.
"Fuck, man! You okay?" The figure of an angel is hovering over him. Blond hair, Blue eyes. Sexy. Around his age...
"No. Please lift my bike off." He grimaces as the figure starts to wrestle with the broken machine.
"AHH!!! Stop!" His leg pain intensifies.
"NO! This thing is burning hot. If it goes up..." He tugs with all his might; the bike groans and bends and finally falls back to earth a few feet from Jessie's freed up torso. Then it starts to smoke. Black billows of acrid fumes waft over the two boys. Dragging Jessie by the underarms, his rescuer does not waste a moment. His eyes are locked onto the smoldering bike, as it bursts into a ball of red and orange flame; sending shards of shrapnel showering over their heads.
All tears at the pain in his leg, Jessie feels his life may be at an end, despite the fact that it very nearly was. "Just leave me. Everyone does." His onlooker is sitting on his haunches next to Jessie's prone body. He pulls a knife from his boot. His hand trembles. Full of self confidence, his nerves were none the less shaken with the bikes explosion.
"The hell I will. Let's take a look." Jessie's eyes bug out. He imagines being stripped naked while unable to resist. His clothes cut from his aching body. His underwear ripped from his hips, and tossed into the bikes inferno. The angel spreads its arms and takes him right there in the grass by the roadside. His soul begins to float above him. He can see the angel cut into the pants leg near the twisted ankle. His vision falters; and Jessie passes into a higher plain of unconsciousness.
Part 3 -
The water feels cool on his lips. It is coming from a plastic bottle being gently held to his mouth. As Jessie opens his eyes once more, to a tough and unyielding world, this tender gesture fills him with warmth, and hope.
"Good. You'll live. I'm Noah. You can thank me later." Noah is peering into Jessie's eyes. He likes what he sees. Traveling the country in his converted van, Noah seldom encounters such a...welcome sight. He is a loner. Not by nature, but by default. His parents kicked him out when, at 18, he came out to them as gay. The van was a gift from a loving Uncle, who told Noah to seek his own muse; and find joy in this life.
"Thank you, Noah. I would have died back there." Jessie has no idea where he is now, just that it is not 'back there'. He reaches up from the platform bed and Noah takes his hand. Helping Jessie to sit up, the strength of both young men is communicated each to the other, in a flash impulse, that sends shivers up the spines of both of them. "How's my leg?"
"It looked worse than it turned out to be. You're lucky. Just a real bad sprain. You can rest with me if you have no other..."
"I don't!" Jessie feels emboldened. He feels gifted with a chance. A chance to get to know this man, in ways he has prayed for. At any rate, the circumstances of their meeting will make for some good conversation.
"Good. I can use the company, Jessie." Jessie chuckles.
"Same. How do you..."
"Your wallet. Had to find out who to call about you, you know, in case someone was worried."
"Thanks, but my folks are on a cruise."
"Yeah. Their voicemail said so. I didn't want to worry them, so I just hung up. That was yesterday."
"What? What day is it?"
"Monday." Jessie looks startled.
"Fuck. I can't be late to work."
"Where do you work? No. It doesn't matter. You can't work today, not with that leg."
"Then I have to call out. Can you do it for me?" Noah nods. He calls the number Jessie recites to him; and pulls the phone away as Jessie reaches for it.
"This is Doctor Wilson. My patient, Noah Mathews, will be out of work for a week with a leg issue. Please put him in for PPTO. Yes. He will. Thanks." He smiles at Jessie. "Done."
"You're a real doctor?"
"I'm nursing you, aren't I?" They laugh.
Turns out, the two of them have a ton in common. Over an impromptu meal, that Jessie finds delicious, they chat about their origins, journeys, and dreams. Two strangers on a lonely country road; invested in finding a way out of their respective and haunting loneliness. Noah is totally open. Jessie is guarded.
"We could head back to my folks' cabin. That is, unless you need to let me off, and be on your way?" Noah is nodding.
"Nope. No place special to be. Correction. I do have someplace special to be." Jessie looks dejected.