a Glimpse Inside

The next few days came easily enough, each passing by in a way that saw them blended together at the edges. Again the sun rose, and again it set. And again and again, again and again.

When one’s world has been turned upside-down, though, it is hard to know which direction the sun and moon are falling, and who is chasing who.

Jack and Trevor both rose and fell, too: a mimicry of the dance between the sun and the moon. The highs and lows that Trevor experienced, however, were much more pronounced than those of Jack, who merely undulated like a linen sheet spread to the wind.

But unlike the heavenly spheres above them, Jack and Trevor could exchange words as they passed.

‘I have another question for you, Jack,’ Trevor intoned, ever soft and anxious. ‘Different than my usual one, okay?’

'Shoot,’ Jack replied limply.

As Trevor started to pose his question, Jack could tell by his voice that something was different, something was wrong. There had always been an uneasiness in his friend’s voice when asking anything, but the subtle tremble ran deeper in his words now.

He asked what Jack thought of masks, façades, and of illusions. He asked what Jack thought of lies, deceit, and of twisted words. He asked without a hint of accusation, but the words were laced with daggers.

And the daggers were met with no resistance, as Jack was subdued to silence. His mouth moved, making mouthings that produced no sound. He wanted more than anything to make some sort of noise, some utterance, to make all the self-consciousness go away. He hated looking at himself, hated seeing the person he had created so well, hated admiring his own handiwork out of fear rather than humbleness.

It was now Trevor’s turn to break the silence.

‘I want to be the best I can: for you, for me, for–’

‘Stop,’ Jack demanded. He found himself rasping the words, feeling as if he hadn’t spoken in days.

He made an awkward pun, a Freudian slip, saying that he hadn’t been quite straight with Trevor. The turn of phrase went ignored, though, and the revelations continued. Words came spilling from Jack’s mouth that he didn’t even know he carried, words that he couldn’t hope to know the meanings of even though they felt like the right words to use.

And Trevor listened, taking his turn as Jack had before, again and again, again and again.

Jack had always been the one who had no answers, wanted no answers, and that made him feel free; it was in his nature. But with each word he gave to Trevor, he received something back, something that he had never had before.

Something euphoric.

It all came out, Jack bared his soul: straight, no chaser.

And as he slammed down the empty glass, Trevor finally had the answer to his question, the answers to all his questions. With a smile Trevor sunk his gaze into Jack’s, a practice that had become common between the pair.

Jack was again amazed by the depths that he saw himself reflected in those eyes, amazed at how far he could see into himself by looking first into others. But he saw something else for the first time, a vision that shocked him to the core.

Because the core was all that was left.

And as Trevor finally blinked and broke the spell Jack was in, I was sure he had caught a glimpse of me.

As Trevor’s eyes opened again, though they were no longer clear, no longer a window into his self or a mirror for Jack to see his, but a puddle of distortions.

He had a secret, one final shred of himself that he relinquished to Jack with tears.

The End

21 comments about this story Feed