“Jack’s Best” by Lem

(Sept. 13th, 2024)

“People just don’t understand. Once you find your somebody that’s it. You’re best friends. You go through so much together. Nothing can separate you.” writes an Instagram commenter about a Mormon couple who were straight and happily married and then the husband decided he was a woman.

No. Or yes? Once you find your person? What does that mean? …You have to know them to have found them. And there has to be mutual real love. …Yes, narcissistic people can love…but it’s rare for them to find their actual soulmate. Jack wasn’t my soulmate. …And I don’t think he was Jackie’s either. …Why wasn’t I more sad at his wedding? It should have been all over my face. Really. And it wasn’t.

…Here’s the thing: These people are attracted to women. Lacey isn’t. And I am. And even though Jackie called me Jack’s first wife…I wasn’t. I was faking being gay so I seemed feminine. …If I was in love with Jack…I’d have been very sad…at his wedding. You would have been able to see it. Even if I smiled…and drank…and what-have-you. And I wasn’t sad. I was bizarrely happy. …Neither of us would ever spring something like a gender change on each other. …We can endure a lot. But…I think the wife knew…all along. And I’d bet she’s bisexual.

It’s Friday night. It’s a beautiful night. Let’s let Lacey and I explain how…odd…things can actually be indeed. …People today are shocking…but I think…they’d still struggle, surprisingly, to believe I exist as I actually do.

You Belong To Me by Jo Stafford plays. It’s late. Jack has left with Jackie. Lacey, as a guest at Jack and Jackie’s wedding, stands…drunkenly…staring at people. But you’d never know she’s drunk. Lacey holds her liquor extremely well. Instead she looks supremely cool…as in serene…and yet also hot…as in warm and intense. A beauty. A rare beauty indeed. And I…sit…alone. Drunk. At a table.

“Come on, Lem! You should go home!” a mutual male friend of mine and Jack’s comes up to me to say. I look up at him. Stare.

“Oh!! Let me take him!” says Lacey, intrigued. She darts forward and almost seems to bounce like a rabbit towards me. It’s endearing. Soft. Sexy. And yet also genuinely innocent, believe it or not.

I half laugh and half smirk at her.

“Who are you!?” I say in a drunken, half high-pitched voice.

“Lacey Banks.” she says.

I stare at her blankly.

“I’ll be his friend. Go away!” says Lacey to the man.

“M’am I don’t think you should. He’s very drunk!” says the mutual friend.

“I’m a GROWN WOMAN. …And I’m bored. Dammit. Go away.” she says.

“He’s drunk!” he says, suggestively.

“He’s sweet. Look…I’m not going to keep arguing with you.” she says as she walks up to me and wraps my arm around her shoulder. “UP!” she says to me.

“Say! What is this!?” I say.

“Don’t ask. Just get up!” she says.

“Well!” says the man.

I laugh. Decide to pull her onto my lap instead. As I laugh.

“I’m not sleeping here tonight. I’m taking you home!” she says.

“We’re not married.” I say.

“You’re a homosexual.” she says. “Since when did you care?”

Shocked I sit in silence.

“Look…I’m half in love with you. But…really…don’t ask me to explain myself. It’s incredibly sad…and complicated.” says Lacey.

“Who told you!!?” I yell, still holding her.

“Oh damn!! It’s OBVIOUS. Everyone must be blind.” she says.

I furrow my brow. “What!?” I say.

“Well…why haven’t you married? …I ask questions. I figure things out.” she says. “My father is a Hollywood-type. I know lots of different kinds of people. …You act like a homosexual. …And you’re coming home with me.” she says.

“No. …You’d best come home with me.” I say.

“Why?” she says.

“Because I’m tired and I want to sleep in my own bed!” I say. I stare into her eyes.

“All my clothes are in my house.” she says.

“Oh! Gee. That’s true.” I say.

“I can’t wear this tomorrow!” she says.

“We can take care of that!” I say.

“Say! This is nonsense. You’re far from home.” she says.

“Oh! Right. …So are you.” I say.

“That’s true.” she says.

We sit in shocked silence.

“My word. It all seems so tawdry when you consider it. …But I don’t think I’ve changed my mind.” she says.

“Hmm.” I say.

“I guess you’ll be sleeping with me tonight.” she says.

“I guess.” I say.

“Come!! Let’s go!” she says, pulling on my arm.

I stand up and follow her. “Why are you sleeping with me?” I ask her.

“Because you seem delightful. And I’m sad.” she says.

I remain quiet. We make it to a taxi. Get in. She gives the orders.

“What if…I…snore?” I say, suggestively.

“You don’t right? Isn’t that your thing?” she says.

I sit with my mouth open. Thinking.

“I might though.” I say, as a confession with concern.

“Oh no!!! No. Not you! You don’t.” she says.

We get out of the taxi. I pay.

We walk up to her room. Shut the door.

And at that I decide to completely let myself go…unlike usual…and with her I’m quite passionate.

“You’re not supposed to be doing this.” she says, matter-of-factly.

“Dammit, I can’t stop myself now.” I say.

“Why!? That’s not how homosexuality works.” he says.

“How would you know!?” I ask, stopping.

“You’re jealous!?” she says.

“YEAH!” I say, sincerely.

She looks serious. “I’ve been told off by a homosexual before. I made a faux pas once…at my aunt’s clothing store…and really offended one of her tailors. …It hurt my feelings. …And I’ll never forget it. …And I’ve had male friends who were…seemingly never attracted to women. Ever.” says Lacey.

I think. “So you’ve never fallen in love with a homosexual?”

“No. …I think that’s why I couldn’t resist you. You really intrigued me!” she says.

“How old are you?” I ask.

“35.” she says.

I smile. “Why haven’t you ever been married?” I ask sadly and with more empathy than she realizes.

“I fell in love with…well…have you ever read Ernest Hemingway’s The Sun Also Rises?” she says.

“Kinda.” I say.

“Have you heard of the Guggenheims?” she says.

“Yes!” I say.

“Do you- Well…so…Harold Loeb’s mother is a Guggenheim. And he’s Robert Cohn. And…when I was 20…I met him. At a party. He’s very handsome in person. …And I fell in love. …But he didn’t want to ruin my life. So…we didn’t marry. …And by 30…I was too hurt to stay with him. So…I’ve been an old maid ever since.” she says.

(Adult content below)

“Was he married?” I ask.

“No! And then yes.” she says. “That’s why I left. He decided to marry an older woman.”

“Why not you?” he says.

“Because he was determined to not ruin me. He thinks I’ll still find a husband and have kids.” says Lacey.

“So I guess he was your first huh?” I say.

“Yes. My only.” she says.

“I’ve…never been with a woman.” I say.

“You seemed…fascinated…a moment ago.” she says.

“I still am.” I say. “Could I get you pregnant?”

“Yes!” she says.

“Did you really think we might just sleep together?” I say.

“Possibly!” she says.

“I’m in love too.” I say.

And I make love to her.

Yes. This actually what genuinely could have happened. …Lacey is embarrassed by it. I’m not…necessarily. …We fall in love. And we have a mutual fear of losing time together. How do you explain that? Well…our instant understanding and closeness (that’s not dysfunctional but rather exceedingly rare) could be explained by reincarnation. As could our fear of losing time. But…what if there’s no reincarnation?

“Lacey and Lem are not bourgeois. …Sal and his wife…in Mad Men…are. …In truth…the misery of Lem and Lacey is far greater than Sal and his wife. But…on the surface their insight seems preferable. They are so knowing. So…aware. …I’m a dead homosexual copywriter who inspired the character of Sal. And I just wanted to add that commentary.” says a dead man. “What’s better? Lem is straight. …But what’s better?”

“Sal. Hands down. …And if we had better schools and health care and people were less crappy overall…I’d not give a damn about being anything but middle class. A pension. A ranch house. Come on? What’s wrong with that? NOTHING!” says a woman.

“A decent retirement?” says another woman.

“Yeah. That too.” says the first woman.

Anyway. That’s actually real. It didn’t happen but it really could have. …And it’s devastating that it didn’t. …God mercifully would have forgiven us. And we’d have been so happy.

Anyway. Goodnight.