“A Novel” by Lem Billings

“Another Love” by Tom Odell plays.

Imagine me at 16. I meet Lacey. We fall in love and…make love.

And it’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before.

And then Jack tricks her. Into sleeping with Harold Loeb. And I go to find her…and here’s her response:

She laughs. “Lem…how much do you love me?” she asks, wistfully.

“I love you an incredible amount. More than I can explain!” says I.

“Then why didn’t you stop me? I told you. I told you I was going to New York. And I told you it was to see my father’s literary friends. And you knew I’d see Harold Loeb. …And he told me you- Jack told me you were going to see him. While I was in New York.” says Lacey.

I’m too angry to talk. I calm myself down.

Blue Blue by Mac DeMarco plays.

“Are you pregnant!?” I yell.

“No!” says Lacey.

“Why!?” I yell.

“He knows how to prevent pregnancy.” she says.

“I had no intention to ever see Jack. And I certainly didn’t think you were going to sleep with anyone but me. Ever again.” says Lem.

“Why do you care!? If you’re so in love with me you should raise his child as yours.” says Lacey, hurt.

I think. “Well…yeah. Okay.

But I want that child to be mine.”

“So do I.” she says sweetly and slowly and with a sort of misty sadness. Then in pain she adds, “But only if you love me.”

“I can’t believe you slept with him!” I say incredulously.

Blue Boy by Mac DeMarco plays again.

“I can explain it all. It’s not like you can’t have me still. I’m far from mysterious.” says Lacey. “I’m sorry if I’m too dull to love.”

“What happened then?” I ask.

“With what?” she asks.

I pull her in to me and say, “I’m not ever bored by you.”

She rests her head on my chest. Closes her eyes. I hold her.

Talking into my sweater, “Wow!

Lem have you ever read The Great Gatsby or The Sun Also Rises?” she says.

“Yes.” I say.

She smiles. Smiles wide. Lights up inside.

“That’s my soul.” says Lacey looking me in the eyes and waiting to see if I understand.

“How!?” I asks meekly.

Her eyes show fire. “It’s about…war.

War.

War is beautiful.

Real war.

People don’t fight with swords and bagpipes anymore. And drums. And they should.” says Lacey.

Elephant by Tame Impala plays.

“So now they stand up in the backseats of convertibles and twirl around like a gymnast. At 25 miles per and hour. As an act of war. Because that’s what war has become. It’s an insidious, bloody, cruel mess.

And that’s what The Sun Also Rises and The Great Gatsby is about. I think.

And Scott Fitzgerald knew that. It killed him. From the inside out. It killed Zelda too maybe. Casualties of war. And Harold is starting to see it. And so when I saw him…I got drunk. On gin. And he felt so sorry for me.

And I think he thinks I’m beautiful.

I don’t think he thinks you do well with me. As my…husband, so to speak.

So I think he decided to…take the risk and possibly steal me.” says Lacey.

“Because you seem too sad.” says Lem.

“Yes!! Exactly.” says Lacey.

“And…how could I love you that much if you’re so sad? Given Jack.” I say.

“That’s my pain.” says Lacey.

“Well…I do.” says Lem.

“Then why did you let me leave for New York thinking you’re a cheating louse?!?” says Lacey.

“Jack called no one! I told him that if he ever called me again I’d kill him.” I say. “But I didn’t know how to get ahold of you. Before you left. I just assumed we’d see each other when you got back. Like we planned.

We shouldn’t have listened to their advice. We should have just gotten married like we planned to.”

“Do you really want me that much!?” she says.

“YES!!” I yell.

She’s dumbfounded. Silent. Sad.

“What happened!?” I ask.

“When?” she asks.

“While you were making love?” he asks.

“He just made love to me, I suppose.” says Lacey.

I smile in a rage.

“Did you feel sad?” I say.

“Over you?” she asks.

“Yes.” I say.

“Of course I did.” she says.

I cry. But try not to.

“Then why did you do it!?” I ask.

“Because I was quite sure you were Hell.” says Lacey. “Not completely sure. But sure enough.”

“Hell?” I ask, laughing.

She smiles. “Yes.” Then she looks suddenly sad, desperate. “Are you!??”

“No.” I say. I refuse to stop laughing. “Why Hell!?”

“Because I love you so much. But then you just helplessly run off…to Jack. And it’s helpless.” says Lacey. “So I can’t hold any hope. And yet you’re still beautiful and intact and so I only feel admiration and love. And I can’t get over you nearly as easily. It’s misery.”

“But we passionately made love. Like it was going to last for eternity.” I say.

“Yes. But what if that’s just….nothing?” she says.

I think. “Harold Loeb. THE SUN ALSO RISES! …Oh! That’s based on fact. Isn’t it!?” I say.

“Yes!! It is.” she says.

“Lacey…how could a gay man make love to you the way I did?” I ask.

“It seems unlikely. But Jack told me it happens all the time.” says Lacey.

“No. That’s impossible.” I say.

She thinks. “Well…you could have just floated off to him?” She thinks. “Without being completely gay?”

“No. I knew after making love to you that I’m not attracted to men at all.

But…we made love.” I say. Then I think. “How much do you know about Brett Ashley?

“Enough. I think.” she says.

“So I’m your Brett Ashley!?? That’s what the two of you were thinking!!” I say.

“Yes. Possibly.

He comforted me. I was incredibly sad.” says Lacey. “I still am.”

“So what did he do?” I ask.

She tells me.

“That’s all!?” I ask.

“Isn’t that impressive enough for you?” she says.

“SHIT!!” I yell. “SHIT!!” I yell. “Yes!

No…it’s just…it’s so…depressing.” I say.

“Well…it’s all I thought I might have.” she says.

“You both restrained yourselves because of me.” I say.

“Yes. Aren’t you happy?” she says, trying not to feel devastated.

I cry. “Yeah.” I say. “But why did he?”

“Because he’s brilliant.” she says.

“Yeah! He is, seemingly.

Who else would like to comfort you!??” I ask.

“Louis, Scott…Elliott…Joe. And Joe. And…Michael. And possibly Jack himself.” she says.

“I do appreciate you holding on to me. In your heart. But…how did you not hear me? I made love to you!” I say.

“Because it wasn’t clear.” says Lacey. “People lie, Lem.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry.” I say.

I suddenly realize how bad this is.

“Then let’s get married. Right now!” I say.

She thinks.

“I can’t lose you!” I say.

“I might be pregnant.” she says.

“From who?” I ask.

“You.” she says.

I try not to smile. “Let’s get married.”

“Why?” she says.

“Because I know it’s best.” I say.

“Why?” she says.

“Look!! You’re marrying me!” I demand.

“Why!?” she says.

“Because I want you to.” I say.

“No. You don’t.” she says.

“That’s absurd!!” I say, losing my temper slightly. I pick her up and carry her off to my car.

“Ha! You don’t mean it!!!” she bites.

I shove her in my car. Literally. Slam the door shut. Get in myself.

“You can’t trap me.” she says, as a warning.

“I’m sincere.” I say.

She goes silent.

“You’ll regret crossing me.” she says.

“I’m not your opponent.” I say.

“Then I’ll kill you. If necessary.” she says, cold as ice and hot as Hell, if necessary.

“You’ll regret killing me. But you won’t. Because I’m sincere.” I say.

She goes completely silent. Stares out the window.

We arrive at the courthouse.

I carry her inside.

We get married.

I carry her outside.

“We’re married. For ETERNITY!” I say, and I mean it to my core.

“Of course we are.” she says, hurt.

I think.

Pyramid Song by Radiohead plays.

“Why Harold?” I ask.

“He looks like you. Why else? My love.” she bites.

“We do look alike.” I say.

“You’re taller.” she says.

“Yes.” I say. “He’s…very impressive. You know…I think I just feel bit…bad. You know? Insecure.”

She thinks.

“He’s actually impressive.” I say.

“Well I was impressed. But my tastes are apparently very different from yours.” she says, obviously very hurt.

“No. Not really.

And I was impressed.” say I.

“So you are attracted to men?” she asks clarifying.

“No!! …It’s just he’s Harold Loeb.” I say.

“What does that even mean to you?” she says. “Aren’t you smitten by rough, cod fishing, thick accent, rich Irish people now?” she asks.

“No.” I say. “I actually still was always more impressed by Robert Cohn. They barely impressed me, if they really did at all. You were impressed. I’m not sure I was at all.

Really.

No! …The GUGGENHEIMS!??” I say.

“Yes. They’re wonderful people.” she says.

“Maybe they are. At times, at least.” I say. “No. He’s very handsome too. And very experienced.”

“Yes! He’s a very loving, caring…brilliant…sensitive…and yet worldly man.” says Lacey. “I’m still impressed by him. Even if I’ll never love him again. In that way. He’s very beautiful. As a human. And I emphasize beautiful because I hate how feminized that word has become.”

“He is.

Why Harold?” I ask.

“He’s…beautiful. And you seemed gone. So…why not? I LOVE the Art Deco Period.” she says.

“Were you planning to get lost in the Art Deco Period?” I ask.

“Yes. And get over you.” she says.

“But you can’t. Because I’m not over you. I never could be. It’s completely impossible!” I say.

“Then I’m sorry.” she says.

“I never was going to see him.” I say.

“Why?” she asks.

“Because I don’t want him. I never did. Not really. I only thought it made sense because I go with the flow far too much.” I say. “At times. But I don’t with you. With you I create the current. I am the current.”

“You care more or less?” she says.

“I care some. And with you….I’m me. You’re me, in a way. We’re one. So…I decide.” I say.

“Then why did you metaphorically throw me off a cliff?” she says.

“Because I thought you were a dream. Just a dream from some…delusion I had of a life I never could have had.” says I.

“That’s not funny.” she says.

“I thought you were a dream.” I say.

“Are you lying?” she says.

“No!” I say.

“It was nothing…if you’re worth anything.” she says. “You should have known that. I’m hurt you didn’t. I was desperate.”

“You do very well for being desperate.” I say.

“No. If I was doing well I’d be far more confused and you two would be fighting each other. And you’d have to make some beautiful speech you meant every word of.” she says, sadly.

“I see.

True!

But he’s still very impressive. And I’m sure he’s not over you. And it’s not as if he’s interested to that degree in almost anyone.” says Lem. “He’s a big deal.”

“So what!?” she says. “God is God.”

“Fair. But it’s still impressive.” I say.

“SO WHAT!? I have to be with someone. Hopefully.” she says.

“Yes.

True.

You are with me. Forever.” I say.

“You don’t mean that!” she says.

“I wasn’t and am not his twin flame nor soulmate. At all. That is how I feel about you. And that will never change.” I say.

She thinks.

“I’m just sad. I don’t want to share you.” I say.

“Then you shouldn’t have fed me to the fishes.” she says.

“You just couldn’t see how I felt?” I ask.

“People lie.” she says.

“I don’t, generally.” I say.

“Don’t just get my hopes up.” says Lacey.

“Well…don’t sleep with anyone else ever again.” I say. “I won’t either, obviously.”

“I won’t. Unless you’re a fraud.” she says. “But I’ll be careful to check.”

“You don’t have to be. It’s pointless. I’ll just hunt you down. You can commit. I can sense that.” I say. “You can’t. Fine.”

“Could Jack?” she asks.

“No.” I say. “But I didn’t care. He was…useless at connecting.”

“Poor sod.” says Lacey.