Chapter 9: The Jake Series (Ellis's Story)

We were quiet for a long time after Jennifer spoke. It was about an hour later, around 10:00 am, when we reached Victoria Street, crossed under it and the elevated railroad track by Kolb Park, when the first member of thee group spoke. 

"I was born with a congenital heart defect," a young man in his mid thirties, thin and pale started abruptly. "Obviously it affected how much I was able to do as a kid - but I liked being inside, I mostly wanted to read comic books and watch movies, and I didn't really care that much about other kids." He had fine, longish black hair, sparkling pale blue eyes and a relatively steady gaze, which he occasionally turned towards the group as he spoke.

"But I wasn't afraid to go outside or anything. We'd take family trips and while I often preferred to stay in one place reading, and I wasn't able to go on the more lengthy hikes they sometimes took without me, I was happy to participate in most activities and I enjoyed going to different places and seeing what things were like there. I was most interested in different signs, posters, advertising, that kind of thing. We sometimes travelled overseas and I became obsessed with collecting posters and flyers in different languages, featuring people who looked so different than myself. I kept them in a filing cabinet back at home and later, I began to do serious collage work with them, and later, with other materials that I found."

He paused thoughtfully.

"But I wasn't agoraphobic at that time. I went to college for fine arts in a nearby town and then travelled a bit on my own, ending up in a small city working at community centre teaching art classes. I made a few friends, continued with my collage work, which I was selling online, and was basically just kind of settling in to adult life."

"All that was shattered one day when I felt chest pains and short of breath. I've always been so careful but now even light activity was giving me problems. I made an appointment with a specialist, it took a while, but eventually it was confirmed - my heart was giving out. I had a year at most. They put me on the transplant list, but I wasn't feeling hopeful."

"I wouldn't say I'm positive or negative person. I've always tried to just live into what I'm interested in and not worry too much about the future or other people or my fate, but of course this was always hovering over me. I felt almost resigned. I planned what were the most important art projects I wanted to accomplish in the next year, and otherwise continued on as before."

"I was shocked when I was called to receive a transplant within 8 months. Time was running out and I couldn't believe that I might have the opportunity to live more, create more. The match was good, the transplant went well, and within six months I was beginning to feel normal again. Better than normal - I discovered I could walk quickly without being winded, run even. Discovering this, I began to try more activities and began to fall in love with my body - a space I'd barely occupied, I realized now. The pleasure of movement, of air coming and going, of pushing - just a little - and discovering something new in myself. It was a joy, an absolute joy."

"This was truly the best I had experienced in life. Changes in my body affected my mind - I began to reach out more, and started dating. I had sex for the first time - and then several times. I began to understand myself in relation to men in a way that I'd only thought about before. I began to understand why people cherished relationships, even more than objects. I didn't fall in love, but I celebrated the experience of being close to people and exploring what happened between us."

"Everything changed with an email. It was part of the transplant program that you could opt to be connected to the donor's family. I'm really not sure why I got this email - I didn't consent to this and in fact felt horrified at the idea. I was grateful for my heart, but I didn't like to think of it belonging to another person. Sometimes, unexpectedly, the thought would come to me and I'd shiver and want to push it out of my own body - would rather die than be so close to another. Sex was wonderful, but sharing an organ - one that couldn't come and go - one that was stuck inside - was terrible to me. The intimacy was unbearable. Luckily I was mostly able to repress these feelings, and there were so many new things in my life it was easy to distract myself."

"The email was repellent to me even before I opened it. I avoided it for several days and finally forced myself to read it. Why did I do that? I guess in the end, because of compassion and guilt. I knew that whomever had written it must be deeply hurting, and while I don't naturally think of myself as a caregiver, I'm not insensitive to the reality of people's pain. I felt for their loss. I felt guilty that their loss was my pleasure. So I opened the email."

"It was from a man who identified himself as my organ donor's widow. The email was slightly incoherent, but strongly expressive and elegantly written, ranging from descriptions of his husband in glowing terms to his appreciation for me and what a lucky man I was to be connected with his husband."

"His husband's name was Jake and this man's name was Sal. At the end of email, Sal asked me if I would be open to meeting. He lived not far away, and he would be willing to come to me, if I let him know where I lived."

"It took me several days to recover from the strain of reading this message. I wanted nothing more than to delete it and never look back, but my compassion forbade the thought as soon as it came up. In the end, I could not bear to deny him the opportunity, even though it was not something I wanted in any way. So I wrote to him and in a few sentences thanked him for the email, gave him a few details about myself, and invited him to visit me."

"He named a day the following week and I suggested he come to my house. I couldn't eat or sleep all week and if I had still had my former heart, I am sure I would have had a heart attack from stress. Finally the day arrived and he appeared on my step. He was a handsome man in his mid-50s with a full head of white hair, a barre chest, a loud and hearty voice and manner and very well dressed. I came outside and we sat on the porch together. I mostly listened while he boomed out stories about Jake and his life together, gesturing and sometimes walking up and down the porch."

"The strangest thing happened while he was talking. I can't explain it but I began to feel first, an appreciation and admiration for him, and then a deepening affection. By the time an hour had passed, I felt as though I was in love with him, even though I hadn't experienced falling in love before. He became incredibly dear to me - every word and motion of his lips I drank in as lovingly as I used to peruse my signs. He was like one of my signs - different, strange, magical, beautiful."

"After an hour, he said it was time for him to go and he asked if he could embrace me. I wanted nothing more at this point, and let myself be folded into his massive embrace. He put his hand on my heart and started to cry into my hair. My heart wrenched in a confused maelstrom of compassion, affection and passion. I finally pulled away abruptly and he left."

"After that we continued to message each other, daily and then hourly. It was patently clear to me that we had fallen in love and that I had lost my mind. I couldn't focus on my job or my art. I stopped dating, and didn't see my friends so much. I stopped going places outside of work. When I wasn't chatting with him, I found myself sleeping more and more, and dreaming of him, and of Jake, in unfamiliar landscapes I knew nothing of."

"A few weeks had passed. I was hoping Sal would come and see me again but he hadn't said anything, and I didn't want to ask. I knew he had a demanding job - his messages were relatively short, and he was clearly texting throughout a busy work day."

"Finally he asked if I wanted to visit him. I responded yes very quickly, and we made plans for the following weekend. When the day came, I packed my weekend bag and took the train to where he lived. He picked me up at the station, and we drove out to the suburbs where he had a big house with a huge pool out back. I was definitely overwhelmed when I first saw his place. He showed me to a guest room that was beautifully decorated in a modern style, and when I had settled in a bit, we had dinner by the pool. We talked into the evening and later made love in his palatial bedroom. In the morning we made breakfast together and then enjoyed a quiet day of conversation and intimacy. We had enough in common for two people distracted by sexual attraction, with the addition of his pressing need to talk about Jake, and my raptured interest in anything he had to say."

"He didn't bring up my need for a ride to the station, and I didn't ask. I stayed the night again, although in the morning he had to work. I called in sick to my job and spent the day doing some work on my website, swimming, exploring his house and sleeping. When he came home, around 9 pm, we had a late dinner and another night of pleasure together. And it truly was - and not just raw sexuality, but affection and kindness and gentleness."

"I called in sick in the morning to work again - that was probably the moment I knew that everything was out of control, that I had lost my mind in some way, but of course those feelings get pushed aside in situations like this. The days passed - after a the fourth day, I stopped calling in. On that day, I also started exploring the city myself, using Jake's car, a red Miata. I located some of the local art shops and did some shopping, and came home with some new materials to collage with, which I occupied myself with over the followings day - weeks? - weeks."

"I was excited about a new project I was working on. Sal had shown me some of Jake's files - he wanted me to know Jake well and I feel as though I did know him, for how much Sal talked about him - and Sal seemed strangely unattached to Jake's items - I supposed he lived so vividly in his memory and later of course, I realized that I myself was a living memorial to Jake, comforting him day and night."

"I'm sure you're wondering - but no, I didn't look like Jake nor have anything in common with him. Jake was athletic like Sal, and had deep brown skin. He had brown, kind eyes and looked very gregarious. He'd been a realtor and a very extraverted man, making friends easily. He could be slightly overbearing, and he and Sal clashed a lot - unlike myself, who allowed Sal to wash over me and as I was roled like a fish in a tsunami. But that didn't seem to bother Sal at all, and none of this bothered me."

"Of course my friends were concerned. I told them the truth - that I was now living with my new partner. I did not tell them Sal's relationship to my new heart. As adult friendships can be, they expressed curiousity, but didn't pry. We hadn't been friends for so long that they would check up on me. Gradually I lost touch with all of them."

"My collage work on Jake's life was very consuming, and I began to go out less and less, choosing instead to stay home and work on it. Sal began to bring me any supplies I needed, to help me not break focus. He was gone most weekdays til late and that suited me fine. On weekends we continued to do domestic things, watch movies, swim, make love, read, talk about Jake ... I never met any of Sal's friends."

"Months passed - a year? I realized at one point that I hadn't spoken to anyone but Sal in a very long time. I also began to become aware that I hadn't talked about myself for a long time. I reflected on my conversations with Sal and how little I talked in general. I was retreating back inside myself - it was a familiar and comfortable space to me. I was not unhappy. Things felt normal - the brief period of exteriority became more dreamlike. I hadn't left the house in months, but I didn't care."

"One day I got a message from an unknown number. It turned out to be Sal's colleague. Sal had had a heart attack and was in the hospital. I was listed as his next of kin. Alarmed, I grabbed my wallet and coat - it was deep winter - and rush to the door. When I opened it, a huge blast of cold air hit me, and with it, a feeling of panic. I couldn't remember what it felt like to go beyond the property. I had lost track of myself. I forced myself to get to the car but was shaking from head to foot behind the steering will. The roads were probably terrible in the stormy weather and my mind was a blank of panic. I'm not sure how I got back into the house, even, but I made it to our bed and hid under the covers."

"The next day Sal called me. He was out of emergency surgery and doing ok. He asked me what had happened? It was hard for me to articulate it; I'm not sure I was coherent. I had been wandering around the house at loose ends most of the day. He didn't sound angry, just confused. He was a very self-reliant man."

"Later that day he came home and he looked a little more fragile, but not as much as I'd expected. I fell into a caregiver role, excluding going out for things - we ordered in what we needed. Sal recovered quickly and returned to work - I returned to my art. On some days I would try to leave the house, but most days I would not. I felt like I was becoming - nothing - but the familiarity of Sal's house and the Jakes series made something of me - when I stepped outside, it washed away and I disappeared."

"A long period of unmeasured time passed. The Jake series was selling well, and there was new material to work with as Sal regularly pulled more boxes from the attic. I was gaining some recognition in the art world, though I was unable to do any live shows or appearances. Once, someone came to interview us in the living room. Sal did most of the speaking, telling the story of how we met and how the Jakes Series came to be. She seemed uncomfortable and I wasn't sure why. I was glad when she left."

"A few months after the interview, I was standing at the end of our driveway, in my pajamas, first thing in the morning, thinking about whether I could step onto the street. It was cool and windy. I felt that the wind might blow the last of me into dust. My precious new heart seized and I was about to turn away, when I saw a woman was jogging down the street towards me. She stopped right in front of me and took my hand. I stepped off the driveway and into the street."

He paused, and took a deep, full breath of the warm summer air.

"When we get to Union Station, I'll be boarding the train that takes me onwards."