Alexander's Gift

The Worker- 4

Three months later, Jerry and Paul found themselves in a much better situation, but one that surprised both parties. Jerry had found the job that he had travelled all that way for, and was excelling quickly because of his zealousness to work and innate abilities to quickly pick up skills. So, given that Jerry had accomplished the goal of riding the rails and arrived at his destination, it was surprising that Paul had decided to stay along with him the entire time, with them sharing a hotel room using Jerry's pay. It wasn't as if they had ever sat down and talked about Paul staying, and their future plans or anything like that . . . Jerry had just kept coming back to the hotel room from work everyday, and Paul was there lounging on the bed, smoking a Duke's cigarette every day with a comic in his hand.

Jerry could see that Paul was restless- it was apparent in the way his eyes would always flicker to the window as if waiting for something, and in the muscle that would clench in his jaw when Jerry talked about anything money-related. But he didn't care, because he just liked having Paul there so much- he loved that Paul was his silent, easygoing partner and the man he always wished he could be. He loved that although it was obvious Paul didn't care about his job working and advancing as an engineer, Paul always listened intently to Jerry with warm brown eyes as if he did care. And that meant everything to Jerry- that someone like Paul would actually care for him.

But one day he had come back to their hotel room from work, acutely aware of the sharp oily scent enveloping him, and found everything in spastic disarray- articles of clothing were strewn on the bed, drawers hung open, and there was the sound of someone rummaging through the cabinet in the bathroom. "Paul?" He called out uncertainly, a vague feeling of dread settling within the pit of his stomach.

"Hey, Jer." Paul emerged from the bathroom, dressed in a full suit and face flushed beneath his olive tan. He was carrying a suitcase, and opened it on the bed to begin stuffing clothes inside. "Where ya goin'?" Jerry asked in a voice that only wavered slightly in emotion, head beginning to buzz like he was drunk as he watched Paul's fluid, but hurried, movements with wide, uncomprehending eyes.

It was only at that point that Dean's hands faltered in their mechanical working, and his broad shoulders lifted and fell once in an inaudible sigh. Finally he turned around to face Jerry with an expression that had never graced it before . . . it was a glimpse of the haunting and turmoil that existed beneath the always calm, always composed surface. His lips were pressed grimly into a thin white line, and his thickly dark brows furrowed so that Vs formed in his forehead. "I've gotta go, Kid. It's just time."

"Why? Where to?" Jerry felt childish as he stood there, gazing questioningly with slack expression. Dropping his gaze guilitily, Paul reached up to his tie listessly with one hand.

"I don't know yet . . . I've just gotta go. You know how I am, settling down like this ain't really for someone like me." The words were echoing in Jerry's ears as he stood there dumbly, before all at once taking a step forward in a rush of delayed emotion that had finally seized him. "Please don't go, Paul . . . I don't know what I'd do without you." The words left his mouth all wrong- sort of choked, and Jerry didn't miss the flicker of dark emotion in Paul's eyes as the older man stood there, breathing heavily but refusing to speak.

With a surging, sickening feeling of helplessness building within him, Jerry crossed the distance between them and gripped Paul's sleeve, clenching the stiff material between his fingers as if he could physically restrain Paul from leaving. He was asking for something that Paul just couldn't give, and they both knew that.

"Come on, Kid, let's not make it this way." Paul just managed in a voice so low that he almost succeeded in hiding the pain that twisted his handsome features.

"Okay, Paul . . . I'm sorry, I just . . . will you write me?" Jerry swallowed the instinctive indignation and aggression that rose within him, so that instead his voice came out sickeningly child-like. Paul nodded placatingly as if to convince himself, and reached down to grab his suitcase with an expression as if he was about to be sick.

Sensing that it was futile to delay the inevitable any longer, Jerry stepped forward and buried his face in the crook of Paul's neck, wanting to hide the tears that welled in his eyes without his control. Wanting to hide for a moment from the truth that Paul was going to leave him- possibly forever- and that he wouldn't have anyone who loved him in his life anymore.

2 Years Later

"Hi, ma. How are you and dad doing?" Jerry asked into the telephone cheerily, trying not to explode as he waited to tell her the news of his promotion.

"Oh, just fine. Just fine- say Jerry, why didn't you call me last week?" His mom's deceptively tranquil tone made him sigh into the mouthpiece. As always. "I was just busy, that's all . . ."

"You couldn't make just a few minutes for your own mother?"

"No, ma, I really couldn't . . ." Jerry grit his teeth in frustration before inhaling deeply and trying again kindly, "Guess what? I've got big news!"

"What?" There was a cold tone to her voice that made Jerry's chest tighten as he said with subdued excitement, "I got promoted so that now I'm managing my division of the railroad! I'm not a blue collar worker anymore, ma!"

"Oh, that's great, honey! Do you make more money, now?"

"Yeah, ma . . . not a whole lot, but you don't understand- this job means I really made it now!" A desperation seized him in an instant so that he willed for his mom to understand with such strength that it brought tears to his eyes. His mom answered with a cruel serenity, "Hmm . . . well, have you at least met a nice girl, yet?"

Jerry couldn't keep the bitterness from creeping into his voice as he responded quietly, "No, ma, I haven't got a girl yet- I've been too busy working sixteen hours a day to make it in my job, which I have just done." The whole tirade of words had come out much more furiously than he had meant to, but realized that was actually how he felt.

"Jerry, I didn't mean it that way-" His mom hurriedly tried to correct herself, but Jerry was done with the conversation, and interrupted flatly, "I have to go now. I have work early tomorrow morning." Without waiting for his mom's response, Jerry slammed the phone back onto its receiver.

Why was it so hard for his mom to just tell him that he did a good job? Just once in his goddamn life . . .