On the day after Nath returned for Christmas break, he caught a cold. Hannah insisted that she stay home, but James had saved the tickets for a long time. Marilyn placed a warm rag on Nath's head and asked him to rest. Then, she, James, and Hannah trudged around the house to get ready and eventually walked out the door.
Nath lay in bed. His head pounded, and his body ached, as if he had been in a fight and lost. He felt so frail. He closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep.
The front door opened, followed by indistinguishable voices. Had they forgotten something? Had Hannah left her coat in the closet? The door closed, and silence followed. But someone was in the house. Nath could feel it. He listened carefully, his body tensed through the aches. The person moved on the linoleum. Quiet, heavy footsteps. Nath didn't know who it was. It wasn't light like Hannah's or noisy like his mother's or hesitant like his father's.
The footsteps made its way to the stairs where it began to ascend. Nath didn't know what to do. In the fog of his fever, he tried to come up with a way to defend himself should this intruder come to his room. But he had nothing. His dresser was too heavy. His lamp was too unwieldy. His expensive telescope was left at Harvard. He rose his heavy arm, and his fingers closed on his suitcase. The doorknob twisted.
In the doorway, Jack stood.
Nath blinked. His grip on his suitcase loosened. He hadn't seen Jack since Summer. After a brief fight, brought on by the loss of Lydia, they had become friends. Jack was friendly, confident, and strangely sweet. He liked being different, defiantly so. But he was always eager to hang out with Nath. He would smile and string an arm around Nath's neck. And, this puzzled Nath. When Nath was hungry, they went to eat. When Nath was tired, they went home. When Nath wanted to talk, Jack immediately shut up and listened. Nath didn't need to wait on him. Whatever he asked, Jack never minded it.
One time, They had been sitting in his car. Jack had lit his third cigarette. It was raining so the windows were closed and the fumes were bugging Nath. He asked Jack to put it out, and the boy did so without hesitation.
"Does the smell bother you?" Jack had asked.
"Yes," Nath replied, "I can't stand the smell, so we should open a window next time."
But there was no next time. Every time he had visited, Jack extinguished his cigarette and didn't pull another one out. The stench in his car and on his clothes faded. On the last week before Nath left for school, he hadn't spotted a single cigarette. It meant something. Nath instinctively knew, but he wasn't sure what.
Now, Jack stood in his room and sat at his bedside.
"Your dad asked me to keep you company."
How friendly was his dad with Jack? Nath wondered. Did they become friends while he was at Harvard?
Jack reached out and pressed the back of his hand on Nath's cheek.
"You're still warm." He said, "your towel has gone cold." He picked up the rag and left the room. When he returned, the rag was hot again. Placing it on his head, Nath felt the pounding headache subside. Jack picked up one of his books, opened it, and tried to skim through the pages. Astrophysics. Nath doubted that Jack understood what it was. But he liked his effort and his company. Again, Nath closed his eyes and tried to rest.
He awoke to Jack's fingers caressing his hand. The feeling was nice, comforting. Jacks eyes were focused on the Astrophysics book, straining to understand what it meant. He seemed unaware that his fingers were stroking the back of Nath's hand. Then, his eyes flicker up.
Jack pulled away, "Sorry." He gripped the book with both hands and returned to straining his eyes.
Nath wanted to say something, wanted Jack to touch his hand again but didn't know how to put it into words. He studied Jack. His sandy hair. The stubble on his chin. The mar on his nose. The faded freckles clearer on his pink winter cheeks. His shoulders hunched as he tried to learn from Nath's book.
"Jack," Nath said.
Jack looked up, alert and tender.
"Nothing."
Jack gave a half smile. His face glowed. "What is it?"
Nath struggled. The words were buried somewhere in his mind, blanketed by his fever. He wouldn't be able to find them; It was a lost cause.
Jack inched closer. His voice dropped low as a whisper, "Go back to sleep."
Docile like a puppy, Nath obeyed and closed his eyes. He drifted on the shore of consciousness. The waves rocked him back and forth until it finally allowed him to sink, deep into its dreamless depths. That's when he felt Jack's fingers again, curling around his hand. A new feeling of gentle, supple lips pressed on his knuckles.
He opened his eyes to find the room empty. Forms moved around downstairs, and he recognized his mother's sounds by the kitchen table. His father shifted on the couch. Somewhere, there was Hannah. Where was Jack? His astrophysics book sat on his desk, where he left it. The rag on his forehead had long gone cold and fell off his head. The door sat still, almost untouched. Had it all been a dream?