Alone Together

Part Two: At the Edge of Summer

At last, the next chapter is here. For some reason (perhaps because of their length), the chapters are taking longer to write these days. I hope it's worth the wait. As you may have noticed, I'm expanding the cast of characters a bit. This is mainly motivated by my belief that to depict Lance and JC more fully, I need to have them interact with a broader range of people, etc. That being said, I'll just add that, for you people out there who like Justin, this chapter is for you. Thanks to all who wrote to me about the last chapter; I really appreciated it - especially after the email drought inspired by the previous chapter. The email address is the same, denis141@hotmail.com. So write me, damn it!

DEDICATION: This chapter is for the lovely Mel, who knows why.

DISCLAIMER: I don't know any member of NSYNC, and this story purely a work of fiction. This story also contains male-male sex (albeit mostly implied), so, if that's not your thing, or if you aren't old enough to read such things, you should stop reading now.

CHAPTER 21: ANNUS MIRABILIS ~ Part Two: At The Edge of Summer.

AS consequent from store of summer rains, Or wayward rivulets in autumn flowing, Or many a herb-lined brook's reticulations, Or subterranean sea-rills making for the sea, Songs of continued years I sing.

Life's ever-modern rapids first, (soon, soon to blend, With the old streams of death.)

• • • In you whoe'er you are my book perusing, In I myself, in all the world, these currents flowing, All, all toward the mystic ocean tending.

-- As Consequent, Etc., Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass (1900).

April 27, 2007

"Justin," JC said, standing up from where he'd been sitting near the edge of the pool and then holding out his hand. "Give me the bottle. You've had enough."

"It ain't empty yet, baby," Justin said, the words coming out slowly, as if he had to concentrate on how to make his mouth and tongue speak them. "And if it ain't empty, I ain't done."

"Look," JC said, his voice rising. "You can barely stand up. It's late. It's cold. And I'm tired. So give me the damn bottle."

"Go to fucking bed then," Justin said, taking a step back and waving the bottle in the direction of the house. "I ain't your kid, and I don't need no babysitter."

"I'm not going inside without you," JC said, still holding his hand out. "Now give me the bottle."

"Fine," Justin said, swinging his arm in a crooked arc across the front of his body and tossing the bottle toward JC. "Take it then."

The toss was sudden and unexpected, and it caught JC off guard. The bottle was nearly empty, but still heavy, and it hit JC solidly in the face. JC's vision was blurred by the pain of the impact, and he barely managed to catch the bottle as it fell against his left shoulder and then bounced down the front of his chest and stomach. He caught the bottle as it hit his thighs, splashing most of the remaining whiskey all over his khaki shorts. He sat down hard on the flagstone pavers that encircled the swimming pool, his knees hitting first, and then his left hip.

JC could taste the blood on his lower lip, and he could hardly see. He knew that Justin had not meant to hurt him, to hit him with the bottle he had so thoughtlessly tossed. He also knew that Justin was not the type to run off mad, and he would not be far away; he hated to be alone. It was why he'd shown up, unexpected and without a call first; his tour was over, and Justin had been unable to tolerate even two days alone in his house in Los Angeles, two days of doing not much more than playing videogames, and talking on the telephone, and wandering around a huge house that, after five years of owning it, was still nearly unfurnished, and empty, even when Justin was there.

Reaching his hand into the pool, JC splashed water against his face and into his mouth. When he spit into the pool, the resulting glob of blood and saliva looked like a large red spider as it dissipated and seemed to crawl toward the filter intake. JC looked down at his knee, prompted by a jab of pain he had not noticed before, and saw that his it was bleeding too, his left one; he had scraped it sitting down. Standing up slowly, and unsteadily, JC blinked several times and forced his vision to clear. Looking down he saw the scattered bits of paper that had once been the label on the whiskey bottle Justin had drank from all day long. As he'd sat silently beside him, their bare legs dangling in the pool, JC had watched Justin slowly peel the label away, flicking each small bit of it to his side - probably without even knowing he was doing it.

"Justin!" JC shouted, looking for Justin among the shadows that populated the back yard when the floodlights were off, and only the backdoor light was on.

"Justin!" JC shouted again, this time walking toward the gazebo but then seeing him curled up in the grass beneath the avocado tree.

"Justin," JC said, not shouting now, and nudging him gently in the ribs with his bare toe. "Come on. Get up."

"No," Justin said in a nearly incoherent mumble. "I wanna sleep on the grass."

"Justin," JC said, crouching down and putting his hand on Justin's shoulder. "You can't stay out here. You're drunk. And you'll freeze."

"I wanna sleep on the grass," Justin said. "It feels good."

"Justin - seriously," JC said. "Come inside. Please."

"I don't want to," Justin said. "I like it here. You go inside. I'll be okay."

"No, Justin," JC said. "I'm not going inside without you. And I mean it."

"Why are you doing this?" Justin said in a voice so loud that it startled JC and caused him to pull his hand from Justin's shoulder. "I just wanna sleep on the grass."

"Okay, then," JC said, lying down next to him. "I guess I'll sleep here too. And we can freeze to death together."

"No!" Justin shouted, sitting up and looking at JC. "No."

JC squinted at first, and turned his head in that quizzical way that dogs sometimes do when spoken to. A minute passed with neither of them saying anything. Justin picked his right hand up off the grass, brushed it roughly on the side of his shorts, and extended a trembling index finger toward JC's bloody lip. He touched it and then looked at the blood on the tip of his finger.

"Did I do that," Justin asked, his voice soft and his words suddenly clear.

"Yes. But, don't worry about it," JC said, standing up. "Let's just go inside. It's warm in there. Come on."

Justin took hold of JC's extended hand and pulled himself up off the grass.

He wobbled unsteadily at first, but then found his balance as JC put his arm around the small of his back. The two of them walked in silence to the small bright bulb that shined above the back door of the house. If seen from behind, each would have seemed like a similar silhouette, slender and tall, with arms and legs that comprised most of their bodies; and they would have then disappeared into a dark rectangle that was the open back door; and then the light would have gone out, and the back yard would have been abandoned to the dark, except for what light the night sky provided, which on this night was little enough, because it was the night of the new moon, and only a few stars were visible through the low clouds that scudded, now unnoticed, above the flat and tenebrous sea.

Inside the house, JC guided Justin to the bed in the guest room and watched as he fell into it, causing the headboard to bang noisily against the wall. Justin reached behind his head and grabbed a pillow and wrapped his arms around it and clutched it to his chest. He gasped softly as he did this, as if he had, without thinking, forced the breath out of his own lungs. JC stood beside the bed and watched Justin for a moment, trying to see if he was asleep; and then, when he thought he was asleep, he took a large blue wool-flannel blanket from the bottom drawer of the armoire in the corner of the room, and carefully unfurled it over Justin, covering him with it, and tucking it in around arms and legs.

"Are you going to be okay?" JC said softly, still not sure if Justin was asleep yet, and wanting to be sure.

"Yeah," Justin said, his voice muffled by the pillow he'd pressed against his face. "I'm just gonna sleep."

"Good," JC said, patting the edge of the bed and turning to leave the room.

"Wait," Justin said, reaching out from under the blanket to grab at JC's hand, but missing it. "Will you stay and talk to me until I fall asleep?"

"Sure," JC said, sitting on the bed, and then sliding next to Justin and leaning back again the headboard, which was deeply padded and upholstered in off-white suede. "What should I talk about?"

"I don't know," Justin said. "Anything. Or just sit there. That's okay too."

The room was dark except for the weak light that leaked through the clerestory windows that ran in a narrow band along the top of the wall behind JC's head. During the day, if you stood in the doorway, and looked up at these windows, it seemed as if the ceiling floated unsupported by anything other than light. But now the light was weak and eerie and it illuminated little more than the gentle rise and fall of Justin's chest as he fell asleep. JC could not see Justin's face, but he imagined (or hoped) that the tense creases he'd seen there had eased and disappeared. Having watched Justin walk towards him this morning, when he'd shown up just after ten, his breath smelling of cigarettes and beer, JC had been most surprised by how old Justin looked, and how diminished, as if from some kind of malnutrition that had deprived him of power, and what had once made him so imposing. When JC had asked him what was wrong, asked him more than once, all he'd gotten in reply was the usual swagger, a swagger that had never been wholly convincing and was then, at that moment, not convincing at all.

JC decided to stay with Justin for a while longer. He wanted to make sure that Justin was asleep for the night. He knew it was unnecessary, and that Justin was unlikely to wake up again any time soon. Still, it was something that JC wanted to do; it made him feel like he was being a good friend, and that was how he had wanted to feel, to feel like Justin's friend, which he hoped he still was, because it wasn't as if Justin had many - or any - friends anymore. JC was not sure how this had happened, but he knew that it had, like the steady erosion of water lapping at a sandy shore, not noticeable at first, but then suddenly irreversible.

Imagining the movement of water over sand, like the water that sometimes flowed through the arroyo that cut across land in front of the house, JC fell slowly asleep. When he awoke, later that same morning, he knew immediately that he was not in his own bed. The muscles along the back of his neck were tight and sore from having slept with his head pressed awkwardly against the headboard. The indirect sun of early Spring shone through the window above JC's head and created a band of light midway up the opposite wall. It occurred to him that it was probably possible to tell what time it was, if only inexactly, by where the sunlight was on the wall, like a kind of vertical sundial. Thinking this made JC feel clever, and he smiled as he imagined telling Lance about his idea.

JC raised himself upright and got up off the bed. Justin was still asleep and still in the same position as before; even the blanket had not moved. Leaving the room, JC went into the kitchen to check the time. It was half past eight. Lance would not be home until later than night; his and Aaron's flight didn't get in until six. He would let Justin sleep, and then wake him up in time for lunch - if he wasn't up by then. In the meantime, he would take a shower, get dressed, and go to the grocery store before it got too crowded. JC enjoyed going to the grocery store, a fact that he could not easily explain. It was a wholly mundane task, which was probably what he liked the most about it, how ordinary it was, and necessary, and inescapably practical.

The first few times he'd gone to the grocery store, after the house was just built, but when the band was still touring and selling albums by the million, he was worried he'd be mobbed by people seeking autographs. But it never happened. It was as if no one could imagine - at least back then - JC of NSync pushing a shopping cart around the Whole Foods Market on Villa La Jolla Drive, filling it with milk and bread and canned peaches and toilet paper and plastic wrap and dishwashing detergent and dried pasta and tomatoes and the crackers that Lance liked so much. Then, when JC would arrive back at home, and unload the grocery bags from the car, and put everything away, he always felt as if he'd accomplished something meaningful and real. It made him happy.

JC poured himself a small glass of grapefruit juice and took it upstairs with him. It didn't take him long to shower and get dressed and find his keys on top of the dresser. As he was about to go, JC heard slow thudding footsteps coming down the hall. Turning around he saw Justin in the door way. He'd taken his shoes and socks and t-shirt off, but he was still wearing the camouflage shorts he'd showed up in yesterday. Justin's hands were shoved into the pockets of his shorts, pushing them down past the top of his hips and exposing at least two inches of light brown pubic hair.

"Hey," Justin said, nodding at JC and shrugging. "Thanks for the blanket."

"Don't mention it," JC said.

"And, uh - Sorry 'bout hurting your lip," Justin said, pointing at it, and quickly looking down at his feet. "I didn't mean..."

"I know," JC said, cutting him off. "It was an accident."

"I was being stupid," Justin said.

"No, you were being drunk," JC said. "Which is stupid, of course. But it doesn't matter, and I'm not mad."

"Yeah, okay," Justin said, looking up and noticing the keys in JC's hand. "So, you heading somewhere?"

"I was going to the grocery store," JC said. "Lance and Aaron get home tonight and I thought I'd pick up some stuff we need, for dinner, and maybe something for us to have lunch later. You're going to stay aren't you?"

"I dunno," Justin said, shrugging again. "I don't wanna be all freeload on you."

"Since when is staying with friends 'all freeload'?" JC said.

"I dunno," Justin said. "I don't wanna be a bother. That's all."

"You won't be," JC said. "Besides, Lance'll be glad to see you. Just like I am."

"Where'd he be at again?" Justin asked, pulling his shorts up.

"He had to go to Marin County three day ago to loop dialogue for the final sound mix on Absalom, his next movie," JC said. "They're doing it up at Skywalker Ranch so he took Aaron with him so he could see all the Star Wars stuff."

"That's fly," Justin said. "Remember when we did that cameo in the second Star Wars episode, Attack of the Clones? I'll never forget that. We was rocking."

"Totally!" JC said, smiling broadly at the memory of it. "Remember how Joey kept knocking over that one Battle Droid by mistake, and George Lucas finally got so fed up he threatened to take his light saber away from him."

"I'll never forget the look on Joey's face," Justin said, laughing. "He was so not giving up that light saber."

"No way," JC said, laughing too.

"Hey," Justin said, finally breaking the silence that had settled over them. "So how's Aaron doing?"

"He's doing really good," JC said.

"You know, I always figured you and Lance would be good at this," Justin said. "Being together, and with Aaron."

"Thanks," JC said..

"Um...anyway," Justin said. "D'ya think I could go to the store with you?"

"If you want," JC said. "Sure."

"Right on," Justin said. "I gotta shower first, and then we can go."

JC watched as Justin disappeared out of the doorway. The sound of his loping run was noisy down the hall, and it made JC smile.

May 5, 2007

Aaron ran across the kitchen and toward the living room, his bare feet slapping against the tiled floor. He was wearing white flannel pajamas that were nearly too small, and his face was flushed pink from having just finished a bath. Lance was several strides behind Aaron, watching him as he scampered toward the couch where Justin sat playing video games. Justin easily heard Aaron's noisy approach, but he pretended not to so that Aaron could climb over the back of the couch and play "sneak attack", or run in front of the television, and block Justin's view. This time Aaron got on his hands and knees and crawled around the couch and sprung up in front of the television.

"Hey, hey, Uncle J!" Aaron shouted, raising his left hand in the air, palm out.

"Hey, hey, Big A," Justin said, after first acting surprised and dropping the game controller on the floor. "Wassup?"

"Nada," Aaron said, giggling, and jumping up and down until Justin gave him a high five, and then giggling even more.

"Justin," Lance said, coming up behind him and poking his shoulder. "Don't teach him to talk that way."

"What?" Justin said, turning his head around and grinning at Lance. "I just be showin' Big A here how to get down wit da boys."

"Um...No," Lance said, trying hard not to smile, since he'd always been amused by what he thought of as Justin's shtick. "And no teaching him to beat-box either. Or you are so dead."

"Geez A," Justin said, turning back toward Aaron and pulling him on to his lap and buttoning his pajama top. "Sounds like Lance is putting the hammer down."

"Hammer down!" Aaron said, bouncing on Justin's lap.

"Slow down there A," Justin said. "You gotta hold still if you want me to get this thing buttoned for you."

Aaron giggled and squirmed off Justin's lap once all of the buttons were done up. Picking up the game controller from where Justin had dropped it on the floor, Aaron looked up at Lance and said, "Can I do video please?"

"Sorry, big guy," Lance said, holding out his hand to Aaron. "Time for bed."

"No," Aaron said, turning the word into a long whining protest.

"Aaron," Lance said, his voice deepening into the lower range of its bass tones.

Aaron looked at Justin and leaned against his legs, obviously hoping for some sort of intercession on his behalf. Justin shrugged his shoulders, but said nothing.

"I got to go to bed now," Aaron said, handing the controller to Justin.

"G'night, A," Justin said, giving Aaron a hug, and then patting him on the back as he walked around the end of the couch toward Lance's still outstretched hand.

"Night, Uncle J," Aaron said letting Lance pick him up.

"Josh is upstairs getting dinner done," Lance said, stopping as he was about to leave the room, and turning back toward Justin. "So you can come upstairs whenever. Melanie should be here soon too."

"Cool," Justin said, standing up. "I need to get changed first."

"Great," Lance said. "See you upstairs."

Justin was leaning against the wall in the kitchen upstairs. He had changed into a black pair of pants that he'd bought that day and a pale gray shirt he'd borrowed from JC. Soft music was coming from a nearby ceiling speaker, and Justin hummed along with it as he looked out the window and watched the moon appear and begin to rise. It was just a quarter full, but bright and glowing.

"So, who's this chick again," Justin asked as he chewed on a black olive he had just popped into his mouth.

"She's not a chick, Justin" Lance said. "She's a physician. Aaron's pediatrician, to be exact. And her name is Melanie Rhys."

"Yeah," Justin said, popping a second olive into his mouth. "But I don't know 'bout this blind date thing."

"It's not a blind date," JC said, looking up from the large pan of sauce puttanesca he was stirring. "We invited her to dinner for Lance's birthday. That's all."

"She's a friend of ours," Lance added.

"Okie-dokie," Justin said, rolling his eyes.

"Hey, can you finish setting the table Lance," JC said, putting the lid back on the pan he'd been stirring. "And open the wine."

"Done, and done," Lance said.

"How about water glasses?"

"Done," Lance said, cocking one eyebrow and grinning at JC. "Anything else you want me to do that I already did."

"I can't believe you two," Justin said, laughing.

"That's all right," JC said. "No one else can either."

"Hey, she's here," Lance said, hearing the doorbell ring. "Justin, can you get that while I check to see if Aaron is asleep?"

"No way," Justin said. "You get da damn door."

"Well someone get the damn door," JC said.

"Oh - man, JC," Justin said, pushing his chair away from the table. "That was some wicked tasty grub."

"Yeah," Lance said. "It was really, really good."

"Yes," Melanie said, folding her napkin and setting it next to her plate. "It was delicious. A little spicy, but still quite good."

""Well, I'm glad everyone liked it," JC said, smiling. "It's super easy to make. I got the recipe out of that Naked Chef guy's cookbook."

"Is that like some gay thing?" Justin asked, cocking his head and looking puzzled.

"Oh lord no," Melanie said, laughing. "He's an annoying Brit with a fat tongue. I really can't stand him, but I hear his cookbook works well."

"Fat tongue?" Lance said.

"Is that like a medical condition?" Justin asked.

"Probably," Melanie said, smiling at Justin. "Not that I know it's proper name - assuming it has one. But this Naked Chef person, he's rather hyperactive, and ever so pleased with himself. Don't you think Joshua?"

JC had stood up and was clearing the plates and stacking them on the sideboard next to the dining room table.

"I've only seen him a few times," JC said. "He's kind of hot, actually."

"No!" Melanie said, more loudly than she'd intended.

"Watch out," Justin said, poking Lance in the arm.

Lance rolled his eyes and said: "I've seen him once. On the television, that is. He's okay looking, but he's got nothing on me, does he Josh?"

"He cooks," JC said, smirking at Lance and then kissing the top of his head. "But, no - he's got nothing on you, which by law I'm bound to say, because it's your birthday."

"So, Doctor R," Justin said. "How come you live in San Diego now? Ain't you from Australia?"

"You really should call me Melanie," she said, frowning slightly. "Or Mel, if you must, because I've never really gone in for nicknames. Not to sound overly serious, or anything, but it really is a bit annoying."

"Well, there you have it," Justin said, not at all put off. "Melanie it is then."

"Thank you," she said.

"Does anyone want more wine," Lance asked, picking up the plates that JC had stacked on the sideboard and about to leave the room. "I can open another bottle."

"No, I'm fine," Justin said, taking a sip of water and leaning back in his chair.

"Me as well," Melanie said.

"Great then," Lance said. "I'm going to help Josh with the dishes."

Justin and Melanie smiled at Lance and watched him leave with the plates. The room in which they'd eaten dinner was small; it was not usually used for guests, and more than four people would have been a tight fit. Three pillar candles burned in the center of the table, and their light cast flickering shadows on the wall. Justin watched Melanie out of the corner of his eye, wanting to look at her more directly, but suddenly too shy to do so. It was a strange feeling for him, and one that made him uncomfortable.

"So you said you're from Melbourne?" Justin said.

"Yes. I studied medicine at the University of Melbourne. And I lived there too."

"Is that a good school?"

"Actually, it is," Melanie said. "It's the oldest medical school in Australia. It was established in 1862. I studied pediatric medicine there, and did both my internship and residency at the Royal Children's Hospital."

"Take that," Justin said. "I mean, that's impressive."

"Do you think?" Melanie said, leaning closer to Justin. "I've never really thought about it in those terms. But I suppose it is."

"I never went to college or anything," Justin said, looking at her directly now. "I always wanted to, in a way. I don't know why?"

"You should have then," Melanie said, taking a sip of wine.

"Was it hard?" Justin said. "Medical school, I mean."

"It was for me," Melanie said. "The intensity of it. And not wanting to fail."

"I can relate to that," Justin said, looking now at the candles and the halo of light each seemed to make on the ceiling. "But you didn't."

"No, actually I did," Melanie said. "Or so I thought at the time. You see, I had intended to be a pediatric oncologist."

"What's that? An oncologist?"

"Oncology is the study and treatment of cancer," Melanie said. "And it was what had made me want to be a physician in the first place. But..."

Melanie paused for several seconds, and looked past Justin, over his left shoulder, at the window behind him. Her finger tips rested on the edge of the table, as one would if hanging from the edge of it, with her palms perpendicular and her fingers extended and straight except for her fingertips which were bent just above the knuckle.

"You can't possibly be interested in this, can you?" Melanie said.

"I am though," Justin said, resting his chin in his hands. "Really."

"Well," Melanie said, continuing. "I had begun my residency - doing rounds in pediatric oncology - and had been at it for several months when I started to realize that I couldn't go on with it, which was an extremely difficult thing for me to admit to myself, because it - the residency position, was much prized and a challenge to obtain. A professor of mine, Corey Turnbull, had staked his considerable reputation vouching for my suitability, and I knew that he would be angry if I quit."

"What was wrong?" Justin asked. "What made you want to quit?"

"I'm not entirely sure how to explain it," Melanie said, looking at Justin again and then letting go of the table's edge and putting her hands in her lap. "In medicine, there is always more unknown than known - about a patient, or an illness, or anything, really. It's not like mathematics, for example, where you can readily determine when you have the correct answer, or like geology where you can take some unidentified piece of metal and, after a few simple tests, determine that it's tungsten, or some such thing."

"Did that bother you? The not knowing?"

"Oh, not at all," Melanie said. "Indeed, it would have been pitifully boring to have all the answers at one's fingertips. No, it was the futility of it that shocked me. I don't know why - why I was shocked, that is. But I was; and it made me feel foolish in a way that I'd never felt before. I mean, how could someone be shocked by the fact that cancer ends mostly in death, and that in children it does much more often than not."

"Man-that's got to be tough," Justin said. "Taking care of some little kid you know won't make it, or probably won't."

"Well, it's tougher for some than other," Melanie said. "It was certainly tough for me - which was, of course, why I resigned my position."

"Are you sorry?"

"I was at first," Melanie said. "But no longer. I enjoy my practice, and feel quite fortunate to have an assortment of really lovely children for which to provide care."

"Like Aaron."

"Yes. Like Aaron," Melanie said, beginning to stand up.

Justin stood up as Melanie did, and pulled her chair to one side for her so that she could step back from the table. She smiled at him, and nodded her head. Justin smiled back, and nodded his head too. He watched as Melanie left the room, resisting the urge to follow her. Instead, Justin imagined that she'd be gone for only a few moments, and would soon return. She's probably headed for the bathroom, he thought, or maybe to the kitchen to see if Lance or JC needed any help with the dishes. But somehow - he did not know how - Justin knew she wasn't leaving; she was too polite to leave without saying goodbye; and knowing this made him smile.

June 27, 2007

It was just past nine now, and Justin was sitting at the edge of the swimming pool, his bare legs dangling in the water. The moon was full and bright and so high in the sky that its reflection in the pool seemed to reproduce the moon's jagged, ghostly-white landscape across the surface of the water. The night air was warm and still and he could smell the nearby eucalyptus trees and the lilacs that had just begun to bloom. Hearing the back door open and close, he turned and saw Melanie walking slowly toward him.

"Lance and JC say hello," she said.

"How'd the premiere go?" Justin said, sliding to the right as if to make room for Melanie to sit down even though there was no need to do so.

"Joshua reports that it went very well," Melanie said, sitting near Justin but not putting her legs in the pool. "The film was very well-received, and there was a standing ovation at the end for the director and the cast."

"Right on," Justin said, tilting his head back and looking up at the sky. "Did they get to talk to Aaron?"

"No, he was already asleep, and they didn't want me to wake him."

The two of them sat silently for several minutes. As they did so, Justin pointed his toes toward the bottom of the pool and kicked his legs slowly back and forth in the water, causing a series of small smooth ripples to cross the width of the pool. He watched each one as it disappeared as it reached the far side.

"This is a beautiful place," Justin said, staring intently at the water, as if he'd lost something in its depths.

"It is," Melanie said. "Quite beautiful."

"I used to be so jealous of it," Justin said. "For years I was."

"Why?" Melanie asked, turning to face him. "You have a house, don't you?"

"Three," Justin said. "One in L.A., one in Orlando, and one in Nashville."

"Then I don't understand," Melanie said, still looking at him, but with her eyes slightly squinted now, and her forehead creased. "Then what's there to be jealous of."

"How they built it," Justin said, kicking one foot out of the water and sending a long plume of water splashing across the width of the pool. "How they did it together. And how it's like their dream come true."

"Well, I imagine that they worked quite hard to make it so," Melanie said, turning to watch the water as its evanescent surface smoothed and calmed again. "Things like this don't happen of their own devices. Not like in dreams."

"Oh, I know that," Justin said. "I learned dreams a while ago."

"How so?" Melanie asked.

"It's a long story," Justin said, kicking another plume of water across the pool.

"Well, you needn't tell me if you'd rather not," Melanie said. "But I'm happy to listen, if you'd like."

"Seriously?"

"Of course."

"Okay, it goes like this," Justin said, speaking softly. "I was in love once. And I thought I was getting married."

"You were engaged then?"

"Yeah - engaged," Justin said.

"Had you known her for a long time?"

"Like my whole life," Justin said. "I met her when I was eleven years old.

She was the only girlfriend I'd ever had."

"Anyway," Justin continued. "We bought a house together, a big one in the hills in L.A. We were hardly ever there together, but I figured that once we got married, and settled down more, it would be our home. Like this place is for JC and Lance."

"I understand."

"Well, to make a long story short, it didn't work out."

Melanie said nothing, waiting for Justin to continue. She stared at his face, and the look of disgust that formed on it. His lower lip trembled, as if he was about to speak, but then he stood up and she could no longer tell if it was still trembling. Justin shook the water from his legs and Melanie felt a few drops of water splash against her arm. The sudden feeling of it raised goose bumps on the back of her neck and made her shudder.

"We'd been engaged for over a year," Justin said, finally going on with his story. "And see, I was pressing her to, you know, set a date for the wedding. But she just never would. She kept saying, 'What's the rush?" or 'Let's wait until after the tour.' There was always an excuse. Always. Until finally the excuse was that she'd fallen in love with someone else - some guy she'd met making a charity album right after the 9/11 thing. It was sick. But that was still that."

"How long ago was this?" Melanie said, standing up now too.

"When I finally found out about it?"

"Yes."

"Exactly four years and two months ago today."

"And since then?"

"Since then what?"

"You've not been in love again."

"Nope," Justin said. "I'm out of the love business. For good."

The two of them walked in silence toward the small bright bulb that shined above the back door of the house. As they reached the door, Justin leaned forward to open it for Melanie, and then followed her inside, allowing it to close behind him with a soft thud. He locked the door and turned off the light. Turning around, Justin watched Melanie slowly climb the stairs. He suspected she'd check on Aaron one last time before going to bed. Watching her about to disappear at the top of the stairs, Justin suddenly realized he had never met anyone like her before, and he wondered why.

"Good night Melanie," Justin called after her, causing her to pause at the top of the stairs.

Melanie turned toward Justin, bending over the wooden stair railing. There was no light turned on, but he could clearly see her standing there, illuminated from behind by moonlight. She was smiling at him, and her auburn hair looked almost as if it was aglow.

"Good night Justin," she said. "I hope you have sweet dreams."

Justin watched as Melanie disappeared upstairs and he wondered for a moment if she had ever been there at all.