“Obsessed” by Lem Billings

Why wasn’t I sad at Jack’s wedding? There’s not a great explanation for that. There just isn’t. It points to me being straight.

Alberto by Hania Rani plays.

I’m going to force Lacey to write what I’m saying. Even if it scares her. So we might take this post down.

There’s an explanation for everything and I’m never letting her go. Regardless. But let’s be daring this evening.

…

I loved parts of Jack at first. Parts of his soul, that is. But I came to hate him by the time I was in my 30’s or 40’s.

What did I love? I thought he was sharp and adventurous and happy. He made me feel like I was free. At first.

By the time I was 26 I was over with him in every way a man or a woman can be. He became irate and abusive. At least, more abusive than he had ever been before. I hated him. But I tried not to. By the time I was 40 I hated him with no uncertainties, however. I really, really hated Jack Kennedy. I never told this to anyone.

My mother was concerned I was spending too much time with him and that too much of my life was reviving around spending time with him. Early on. …He was never my obsession. My family was never worried he was my obsession. Not really. They did worry I was…acting homosexual and that he had become my boyfriend. I was fascinated with trying to figure him out. But not because we were lovers, because…I hated him from the start before the hatred grew and took shape within me.

I felt…hatred for Jack Kennedy.

I felt hatred for his biggest flaw. And his biggest flaw was that he adored himself at the expense of everyone else and anything that got in his way. People say he loved his kids. No. He didn’t. He was a terrible father. The truth is…he was a clinical narcissist and he would have eventually hurt both of them in some profound way. He only looks like a great father because he was shot before they knew any different. People are so damn gullible!

You read that Jack Kennedy was an amazing father? Ha! He was shit! …He was a womanizing scumbag. He had no conscience when it came to sex almost at all. He was a malignant man. …I only hope he wouldn’t have sexually molested his children in some way…or didn’t. But he was a sick man!

You should of heard the things he used to say to me. He never shocked me. But I had been molested by a priest.

Did I kill him? Yeah. Maybe. Maybe I did.

Maybe I got so sick of his bullshit that when he almost blew-up the whole damn world like the piece of shit he was…I felt he was best off dead. And don’t think I didn’t wonder if I had made a mistake in saving his life. I didn’t want to berate myself…but I worried it was a huge mistake.

I faked being so damn shocked and sad. I FAKED IT!

The Leave Taking by Howard Shore plays.

I was never in love with him. I had faked that too. And should have been obvious but he was a fucking narcissistic idiot from Hell. He believed anything that made him seem…valuable in a way that other people aren’t or couldn’t be. Especially couldn’t be. He hated his actual self. But that person barely existed anyway…because he left himself go early on. In childhood. I heard stories. …He could have developed a conscience but he chose to be evil instead. …The only reason I felt good about saving his life was because I had reasoned that he needed to be alive to create his kids.

Jackie was a prick. We were friends but she was…rude and brash and mean.

Why did I let him trust me? Because I wanted to be his husband. I wanted to be…normal somehow. You know? Have a life. Not just be…a weirdo who was gay. If I was sad at all after Jack was killed it was in part because I had grief for the sake of America and because of his family…and because my life had been…essentially ended. They suspected I was straight in the CIA but they didn’t know for sure. And I had no way to correct things. It wasn’t until I was almost dead that I figured out that I was just a straight man.

“So you weren’t obsessed?” asks Lacey.

No. I wasn’t. Not like he was with me. I was baffled by him and I spent too much time with him. But I was never obsessed with him. Not in any romantic or sexual way.

Actually…let’s imagine I was. For the asks of argument.

Let’s say I was genuinely smiling and not cringing in that photo with my head in his crotch and my ass in the air. …Why…didn’t I need to make love to him? That sort of passion builds up. And having oral sex isn’t that great compared to other forms of sex. Why didn’t I find that annoying?

So let’s keep going. Let’s say I had anal sex. Let’s say we made love. Because the other doesn’t work. I lose interest in Jack. He’s too sexually dismissive and frustrating. So let’s say we made love. Right? Why didn’t I care when he got married…and why did I blow him off when I was at war?

Because I was trying to save him from being with me? Mmm. Well…okay.

Why wasn’t I sad at his wedding?

It still doesn’t make any sense.

Even if I organized the entire thing it doesn’t make any sense. If I had normal human emotions it should have been written on my face or in my gait somewhere that I was devastated. Because he was going to make children with her. And even if I was there every night…she was his spouse. That would have affected me. My smile should look forced. It isn’t. I was a very natural person even though I faked things. I was natural in my pretensions. As in…I faked being sad after Jack died possibly right? But…it’s written in my face. If you look at me in the funeral I don’t look that sad. I look disturbed but in control. I hardly look as shocked and devastated as I should acceding to mythology. But I do look genuinely happy at Jack’s wedding.

No. I wasn’t sad.

But let’s just say we made love. Right? Why didn’t we fall in love too deeply to let it go and why didn’t I care more? Oh! I felt he needed to be US President? Fine! But…I had feelings. So…why wasn’t I sad at his wedding?! And…why did I care so damn much when he died?

People move on. They do. Why wasn’t I ever sad before he died? Why didn’t I start to lose interest? Haven’t you ever watched any movies? Used spouses move on. Lacey lost interest in Joe! And Joe was…far more epic than Jack.

Look…planes in World War II beat anything else. That’s why Joe wanted to be a pilot. That’s why he pushed himself. He wanted to be on the cutting edge.

And Joe was smarter and kinder and more…vivid. He was better. Joe was just better. …But Lacey balks at the thought of being with him. You couldn’t make her unless you were God Himself. People move on.

No. I wasn’t obsessed. I was desperate to figure him out and to try to gain control of my life and I never could. He always had me off kilter and unguarded.