Where do we live in Heaven? Home? If everyone is, at least eventually, a part of a permanent pair…they must have a home like on Earth?
Who are all of these men?
Louis is an enormous house. Well over 12,000 sq. ft.. 1920’s Moorish architecture. Subtle, extremely fine quality details. Lots of details. Awe-inspiring shadows at night and haunting bursts of natural light in the day. Drama. Beauty. Romance. He’s a rare gem of a person.
Lem is a large Georgian Revival house. Red brick exterior. Dark wood floors. Cool, wall-papered inside. Somewhat dark. Pristine. Sharp. Cutting. Imposing. But terribly elegant. The gold-standard of American perfection in every regard.
…Jack fell in love? Jack made it in the front door. But Jack never left the foyer. *Lacey laughing not at the potential innuendo but the actual sight of him still standing there literally just…waiting* …For almost 100 years Jack has stood by the front door with a knife, a pistol and a hand grenade ready to possibly kill anyone who truly tries to get in the front door. “What did Jack see in Lem?!?” Sex. Love. Lust. Passion. …Love. *eye-roll*
…But…whether it’s because they weren’t actually meant to last for whatever Godly reason…or because Lem was never even attracted to men at all regardless…Jack never left that space. Lacey isn’t sure if he’s even seen the rest of the house. She’s not sure he even realizes or realized that the rest of the house existed or exists. It’d be entirely comical if it wasn’t so disturbing…
“Jack!” Lacey says behind him as she sits the steps of the main stairwell. He doesn’t seem to hear her.
He looks to the right finally but then seems to see nothing and so he focuses back on the inside of the front door and then he sees something again.
“Jack there’s a whole house behind you.” Lacey says.
“Shh! Lacey this is our house in Cape Cod.”
“This is Lem’s house.”
“I can’t leave.” he says.
“Because if I leave I’ll get shot. And you’ll cease to exist. And my father and mother will be killed by Indians.”
“Jack that’s a dream.”
“Dreams aren’t real, Lacey. This has to be real.”
“It isn’t your house, Jack!”
He turns around and sees her and the house. Lacey sits there also in her teens, dressed in a warm weather 1930’s school uniform.
“You should leave! What if my brother finds out you’re here?!?!”
Harold is a perfectly appointed, sprawling, cozy yet spacious ranch house. Opulent and comfortable everything. The absolute best. The absolute of casual, unpretentious, comforting, serene charm. French television. Perfect espressos. Shaved ice. Endless sparkling water. An epic, possibly historic wine cellar. Maybe even a bomb shelter and a way to another planet through the wine cellar. And him. He very much inhabits his own house. In the absence of horrific attack one feels very, very safe.
Michael is a castle. A rare castle. From the 1000’s AD. With both respectful restoration and creature comforts that leave one speechless. He’s a literal castle. In the woods. Near a river. Totally environmentally sustainable. Mysterious security system. Museums lend him priceless pieces of history for safe keeping.
“Which house is mine?” asks Lacey.
“Well I can see why you’re in the castle.” yells J. P. through an intercom system original to the castle. His voice is muffled but Lacey can still hear it. J. P. would figure out an intercom system from the 1000’s.
…”Not now.” says Lem in regard to Lacey’s whereabouts.
“Not ever!” says Jack to regain his space by the front door, but when he turns around again he’s in Medieval France in the front of a line of armoured knights on horses racing into battle.
He meekly steps backward and watches them as they charge by; horses majestically ripping dark dust up into air from damp Earth.
“Some Seays and Sayres might be here!” yells Lacey cheerfully to Jack.
Jack looks at her, mouth drops and then as if suddenly aware of something both terrifying and wonderful he’d been concealing from himself he darts off. And disappears.
Then she finds herself back, sitting on the stairwell at Lem’s house. Jack is gone.
“Where is Jack?” she asks what first appears to be Lem…but then when he looks up is merely a demon impersonating Lem for Jack.
“The Lord has commanded me to tell you that this house has been a decoy since the 1940’s.” the demon says.
It looks almost identical to Lem’s actual house.
“How did Jack get in the front door?” asks Lacey of God.
He genuinely attacked Jack once preemptively on an emotional level and it hurt Jack and allowed Jack in through the front door. So to speak.
“But how does everyone get in my house to the point where I don’t even have one anymore?” asks Lacey.
“Thieves!” says the demon. “And Jack was too scared of rejection to look around.”
“How did I lose my house though?” asks Lacey of God.
“It’s mine. It’s my house. You’re supposed to share one. Just one.” *he holds up one finger pointing upward toward Heaven* “You’re just an adult is all.” says Louis.
“Is Jack off with Lem?” asks Lacey.
“That’s where every other man you’ve loved would be.” says Joe Jr. sadly.
“True.” says Lacey.
“Is it your house literally or…as an example?” asks Lacey at 18 still dressed for the 12th grade.
“You’re right. You were and would have been a stunning young lady. This style suits you far better.” He ponders something with a sense of loss. “In about three or four years I might have tried to make you my wife.”
“But what about your kids?”
“It’s an example, by the way. My house is an example. And they’re all real except for Lem’s house.”
“The Kennedy’s and most liberals and anyone who’s homophobic and secretly queer…will hate this.”
“J. P. is over it. He was too impressed by Michael’s castle.”
“So where’s my home and who do I belong to?” asks Lacey who is suddenly dressed like Veronica Lake. At age 23 in 1942.