It was an easy Tuesday at work compared with many of Jensen’s recent days. Mondays were always the worst. It was never possible to predict what home events would erupt over the weekend and result in a student in trauma Monday morning. Tuesday was always the tail end of the Monday intensity. Fortunately, on Tuesday, nine days before Thanksgiving, the school was mostly peaceful. Jensen spent the entire afternoon catching up on paperwork.

The peaceful atmosphere that settled around Jensen’s day changed as soon as he pulled into his driveway at home. He spotted Alec in the yard next door. He was squatting down facing a flower bed at the base of his front porch. There was nothing unusual about the pose. It was the end of the growing season, and Jensen wondered if Alec was pulling the dead flowers out of the ground. They collapsed and wilted in the killing frost more than a week ago.

It was strange that Alec chose to tend the flowers when it was almost dark out, but Jensen didn’t think much of it until he opened the car door. He heard anguished yelling. It was the single word, “Fuck!” but Alec repeated it six times in a row before Jensen could climb out of his car. Alec’s gravelly voice echoed in the chilly stillness of the approaching night.

Closing the door gently like he was trying to avoid disturbing someone’s sleep, Jensen stared over the top of his car. He saw the corded tension in Alec’s neck, and his face was flushed red.

Later, Jensen cursed himself for his hesitation. He didn’t follow up on any of Beef’s suggestions, and he didn’t immediately run over to aid Alec when he saw the anguish in the man’s body and heard it in his shouted voice.

After another few seconds of staring, Jensen found the energy to lift his feet from where they were frozen to the ground. Alec didn’t notice Jensen’s approach until the neighbor was almost in his face.

Fearing a repeat of their last encounter, Jensen kept his hands to himself. He squatted down on the grass and whispered, “Alec?” The shouts quieted, but there was no immediate response. Jensen lowered his head and turned so that he was staring up into Alec’s face.

Alec’s mouth twisted up into what looked like a painful grimace. His eyes were vacant. Jensen decided that he needed to take a chance and do something to try and ease some of the pain. He placed a tentative hand on Alec’s upper back as he whispered again, “Alec?”

Finally, Jensen saw something register in Alec’s eyes. He blinked, and then he stared back. Alec started to speak, but it was clear that he couldn’t find the words. “I…I…”

Jensen rubbed lightly. “Don’t talk. Let’s go inside. Let me help you inside.”

Mentally, Jensen tried to prepare himself for any of the many possible reactions. He glanced around to take note of escape routes if Alec became violent. To Jensen’s surprise, Alec rose quietly to his feet. In a soft voice, he said, “Yeah,” and slowly led the way to his front door.

Jensen followed him into the house. When the door closed, Alec turned. The expression on his face was almost child-like in its innocence.

Jensen asked, “Are you okay?”

Alec whispered, “I hate this.”

Jensen fought back an impulse to ask a long list of questions. Instead, he suggested, “Here, have a seat on the couch. Let me get you a glass of water. Don’t talk if you don’t want to, but if you have something to say, I’ll gladly listen.”

Alec turned his head as Jensen walked to the kitchen, but he didn’t speak. Before retrieving a glass from the cabinet and filling it with water, Jensen placed his hands on the edge of the sink and took three deep breaths. There was as much tension in his body as he had when called to classrooms to help calm a child acting out. The difference was that he was alone with a stronger man in a house he didn’t know well. Jensen felt his elbows shaking. He was scared. He didn’t know what might happen next.

As he returned to the living room with a glass of water in hand, Jensen glanced around the room. Some things were in disarray, but it was much cleaner than the last time he saw it. The appearance boosted his spirits and helped tamp down some of his flee instinct.

Alec took the glass from Jensen’s hand and whispered, “Thank you.” He swallowed a mouthful of the water as Jensen sat.

Jensen tried to sort through possible reactions in his head. He decided to remain quiet for a few minutes more. Alec swallowed another mouthful of the water. He stared into Jensen’s face and patted the center cushion of the couch. “Sit. Here. Please.”

Jensen’s body tensed. He didn’t want to fear Alec, but the hair stood on the back of his neck, and his body remained on full alert.

In a voice that continued soft in tone, Alec repeated, “Please.”

Jensen closed his eyes, and he took three more deep breaths. He stepped forward and sat on the middle cushion at Alec’s side. The next actions happened faster than he could properly process them.

Jensen suddenly found himself cradling Alec’s head in his lap while Alec’s shoulders shook with sobs. They were silent at first and slowly evolved into wailing that wracked the man’s entire body.

Jensen saw many children break down into full-throated crying in his office. He saw many parents shed tears in sympathy with their children, but he’d never seen a grown man wail like Alec.

He continued to rub Alec’s back and shoulder. He felt helpless to do anything else. It reminded Jensen of the times his mother tried to quiet him when he was a young child. She would repeat, “Shh, it’s okay,” and, “There’s nothing to cry about.”

Unfortunately, she was wrong. There were things to cry about. The crying was cathartic. It allowed the negative emotion to escape and cleanse the psyche. As an adult, trained in counseling, Jensen could put it all into words. But his gut instinct knew it all already as a child. He didn’t need or want to quiet Alec. If he was sobbing so intensely, he needed to cry.

The wailing continued almost nonstop for at least fifteen minutes. Finally, it slowed, and soon Alec was quiet. Jensen slowly ran his fingers through Alec’s hair. It was cut short, but it was significantly longer than the tight buzz Jensen saw when he was last at Alec’s house.

A few minutes later, Alec spoke in a calm tone of voice, “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

Jensen knew how to respond to those words. He said, “It’s okay. You needed to cry. Everybody needs to cry sometimes. Tears are a good thing.”

“I was like a fucking baby.”

“Well, they need to cry, too.”

Jensen smiled when he felt Alec’s light laughter shaking his body. Jensen could feel it in the muscles of the upper back. Alec pushed himself up into a sitting position. His eyes were red, puffy, and swollen from the tears.

Alec said, “I bet I look like hell. My gut hurts. I’ve never done anything like that before, and don’t think it was all about my mom. I know that it wasn’t. It was like I was crying about my entire fucking life. I didn’t think it was ever going to be like this. I bet you never feel this way.”

Jensen listened, and he liked the physical contact, but he worried that Alec might suddenly respond with an angry outburst as he did before. He thought about the comment and disagreed. Jensen said, “My life’s not perfect. I can’t complain a lot, but I wasn’t supposed to still be alone.”

Alec sat up, rested his elbows on his knees and lowered his head into his hands. “I’m a fucking mess. Is this what’s supposed to happen?”

“What’s supposed to happen when?”

Alec didn’t respond directly to the question. “I don’t even know for sure how I got in here. Did you help me? I mean, damn, I’m glad you’re here, but I know I was outside. I wanted to clean up those dead plants, but that’s about all I remember.”

Jensen didn’t want to describe all of the details. He said, “I got home from work, and you looked like you could use some help, so I came over and brought you inside. I hoped that I could help out. That’s all.”

Alec turned his head. “Brought me inside? You couldn’t fucking carry me. I know you’re not that strong.”

“Okay, I helped you inside. I hope that’s alright.”

“Instead of me doing Lord knows what on the front lawn in front of the neighborhood and embarrassing the shit out of myself? Yeah, that’s alright.”

Something about the situation made Jensen’s heart pound. He could feel it in his chest. He didn’t know if it was Alec’s vulnerability, or something else. Even with the red, puffy eyes and the shaggy hair, Alec was still handsome. Jensen wanted to reach out and wrap Alec in his arms, but he knew that he needed to move slow.

Alec looked him in the eye again and said, “You feel it, don’t you.”

“Feel what?” Jensen’s eyes opened wider.

“C’mon, man. Don’t fuck with me when I’m like this. Don’t fuck with me at all. There’s something here. I don’t know. It’s almost like I can feel shit I couldn’t feel before she up and died. Here. You. Me. There’s something here. Don’t tell me you don’t feel it. I know I’m not insane.”

Jensen knew that recovering addicts and alcoholics reported the return of emotional sensations they hadn’t experienced for years when they spent a long time without the drugs and drinks. He also knew the death of a parent was a traumatic experience that could rattle even an adult child’s view of their world and their relationships.

All of that was academic information. It didn’t prepare a counselor for a direct impact on their personal life. Jensen’s heart pounded harder. “Yeah, I feel it.”

“Maybe I am insane. It’s probably fucking crazy. Does it freak you out that you feel it? I mean, look at me. I’m no prize. I’m hanging onto the edge of the cliff with white-knuckled fingers.”

Jensen reached up and ran his fingers through his own hair. He said, “I might hate myself tomorrow for having said this because it makes me feel naked like I left my pants at home when I say it, but I think you’re handsome.”

“Heh.” Alec shook his head. “Maybe you need your eyes examined. I’m an old fucker. My eyes are probably swollen up like fat cherry tomatoes, and I’m about to go broke. I’m afraid to call my boss because I know he’ll tell me I’m fired. I’ve been too damned lazy to even do laundry. It’s like I get up to do something and this impossibly heavy weight pulls me back down again.” He tugged at his shirt. “I’ve been wearing this same T-Shirt for the last three days. It could smell rank for all I know.”

In a whispered voice, Jensen said, “I haven’t felt like this for a long time.”

Alec shook his head again. “A long time? How long is a long time to you? How old are you? 24?”

“29.”

“Oh, holy shit. Well, that makes me feel a little better. At least I know I’m not lusting after a baby. I don’t want to be a cradle robber. I promised myself I’d never be like that. You had me worried there.”

Jensen always hated predicting ages, but he thought he needed to say something. He asked, “How old are you? It’s not like you’re 50 or anything. I’m not even sure there’d be anything wrong with that.”

“I’m 40. I had a birthday about a week or so back. I didn’t do anything to celebrate, because I didn’t realize it was that day until I woke up the next morning and looked at the date on my phone. I probably look like I’m pushing 60. I feel like hell. I think I need to lay on a beach somewhere for a year so I can feel halfway like a human being again. Shit, life’s hell. You know? Maybe you don’t know.”

Jensen didn’t know what to say. He knew that he’d experienced some rough things, and he saw a lot more that other people went through in his counseling work. Instead of following the line of conversation, he asked, “Have you eaten dinner?”

“I don’t even know if I had breakfast. Fuck, the last week or so has felt like one long day. I think I’ve spent more than half of it in bed. I looked out the window today, and I thought I needed to do something out there in the yard so it would look like somebody was alive in here. The yard needs mowing, too.”

“Do you have anything new in your fridge?”

Alec said, “There’s that stuff that Beef made me buy. I think some of it’s still okay.”

“How about I make us both dinner?”

“Fuck, I don’t know. You keep doing all this shit for me. It makes me feel like a helpless louse. Weren’t you just here a few days ago? Maybe you should go home. I’m fine now. I can pick up the phone and order pizza. Maybe I’ll even switch it up and order Chinese.”

Jensen didn’t want to tell Alec that his last visit was a couple of weeks ago. He was disturbed enough about losing track of time and failing to take good care of himself. Jensen placed a finger over Alec’s lips. He said, “I’ve got an idea.”

Alec didn’t speak, but he opened his eyes wider to signal that he was ready for the suggestion.

“I’ve got a work thing tomorrow night, but the night after why don’t you come over to my place. You can bring Chinese. I’ll make dinner tonight. Is it a deal?”