Calvin WalkerJabez wondered what would happen if he fell down the stairs and shattered both his kneecaps. Or, say, if he somehow stabbed himself while cooking and began to bleed out. In these imaginary scenarios—of which there were many—he was always terribly wounded and alone, his cell phone just out of reach from his outstretched fingers.
As it were, it was a sunny afternoon and Jabez wasn’t much at risk of anything besides falling asleep on the couch. His body, long and lean like dough stretched from both ends, had settled quite nicely into the cushions. Still, the phone call he was on with his mom was its own special torture.
“Do you have any furniture yet,” she asked. “I mean, my god, what do you even know about furnishing a whole house?”
Jabez looked around his new home. Or, as he would call it, his house. Homes meant something special. This was more a place of residence. Nothing about it made him feel those warm, fuzzy ahhh I made it feelings yet.
Still, there was literally so much furniture everywhere. Naked windows, but he saw no reason to cover them. After living in New York City for twenty years, Jabez wasn’t bothered by the idea of a Peeping Tom. He liked his body just fine, thank you. Besides, his house was situated 35 feet above an abandoned quarry, vegetation clinging to the rocks. He was surrounded more by nature than nosy neighbors.
“Remember,” Jabez began slowly. “I shipped stuff from Brooklyn?”
“I know. I just wish you prayed on this before doing all that moving.”
“I did! And He told me it was time to get the fuck outta the city.”
Without another word, his mom hung up.
Music resumed streaming from the audio system Jabez had installed upon moving in. A world class grimace split his face when Destiny’s Child’s ‘Confessions’ came on. He skipped to the next track and went into the kitchen in search for lunch. But the refrigerator was barren besides a half-empty water pitcher and a random assortment of condiments. His cupboards, on the other hand, were well stocked with canned goods, bags of grains, and boxes of pasta. He had an elephantine appetite but was in no mood to cook.
To hold himself over until a Seamless order could be delivered, he settled for the next best thing: a martini.
“Oh, that’s liquor,” he gasped after his first sip.
Jabez poured out the cup. He didn’t want a cocktail. He definitely didn’t want the shitty diner food that was on the way. He would never say this to his parents or friends, but he didn’t really want this big, empty house, either. What he really wanted was to peel off his own skin and leave his life behind.
He settled for tap water.
“And then you give them unfiltered faucet water?” This was what Donny, his ex-boyfriend, once said as he spritzed potted plants in their apartment. “How do you expect them not to die?”
Donny was a white boy who grew up in a rural part of England but still had a suspiciously posh accent. The first time they ‘met’ was in the dark corner of a sleazy Manhattan leather bar. Post hook up, Jabez playfully dubbed him the ‘girth from Perth’ after mistaking his accent for that of an Australian. Donny was quick to correct him just as quickly as he would soon blame others for his belly being soft.
“Better them than me!”
“You’re not funny. And you wonder why my parents find you to be so bloody off-putting.”
“Well, I think that’s more because they’re racists.” Jabez gave an over-the-top wink. In response, Donny slammed down his watering can and shut himself in their bedroom.
As a poor theatre producer, Donny was nothing if not dramatic. World-ending outbursts were common which is why Jabez wasn’t surprised by his souring. However, familiarity did not equate to acceptance. He hated the constant instability and could never truly lean into tender moments out of fear. Even when they cuddled while watching another episode of The Great British Bakeoff, he’d occasionally wonder why he hitched himself to someone he was so incompatible with. But then he’d wake up in the middle of the night to find Donny’s feet tangled in his own and he’d tell himself he had it good.
That’s what it meant to be in a relationship, right? All incongruities were minimized in favor of the greater good. What did it matter if the ‘greater good’ couldn’t be agreed upon? There was generally one partner who tried to keep things under control (Donny). One who tried to keep things entertaining (Jabez). One who tried while the other didn’t (draw).
“Why are you with him,” a friend asked at brunch. “You don’t seem happy. Like, at all.”
His other friends at the table must’ve been thinking the same thing. Their faces were all stamped with pinched looks of agreement.
“Of course I’m not happy,” Jabez snapped. “I’m an adult.”
In the very adult kitchen of his very adult house, Jabez popped his discarded martini’s olive into his mouth. His teeth separated the flesh from its pit as a thousand tiny birds began to flap their wings inside of his stomach. Another wave of deadly scenarios flickered behind his eyelids. Exploding intestinal parasites. A burst spleen. Or, most realistically, a reaction to olives that had gone bad.
He braced himself for the urge to vomit or to combat bowel incontinence. Instead, he was greeted by a warm pressure pushing from the interior of his abdomen. His mind went hazy as he experienced what felt like the thumbs of a skilled masseur breaking apart muscle knots. As alarmed as he was, Jabez couldn’t deny that whatever was happening felt good. There was a pleasure tucked behind the pressure and the sensation vanished almost as quickly as it appeared.
Ready to poke fun at the peculiar ways a body could behave when it was hungry, Jabez looked down at himself. He yelped at the sight of a protrusion underneath his t-shirt. This wasn’t bunched up fabric. Nor was it the tip of his belt. There was something stiff, rigid, and unwanted jutting out.
He yanked up the tee and winced at how wide his eyes shot open. But that was the only reaction that could have taken place because a small knob now protruded from his belly button. Irregular in shape, it was attached to a short stem that extended no more than two inches from his body. He pulled his shirt down, eyes still stretched as open as they would go. Whatever was happening couldn’t be happening. Or could it? He’d barely had any of the martini, so he knew he wasn’t drunk. He didn’t do drugs, so he certainly wasn’t hallucinating. Still, there was an entirely unhuman object attached to him.
With as much caution as one would use to pick up a wounded animal, Jabez brought his tee up for a second time. The knob was still there. He could now see it was trimmed in gold. Its flat surface was a muted, mother of pearl. There was a familiarity to the knob, but a mental fog rolled in and kept Jabez from landing on anything concrete.
Though it came from the flesh of his body, the knob looked sturdy. It looked like it belonged. Suddenly, a pair of dotted etchings began to appear around it. His skin poked out in quick succession, each prod bringing a white hot flash of glee. If the knob’s emergence felt good, the stitching was orgasmic. Ten seconds in, though, and everything ceased. Paired with the knob, his body had miraculously developed what looked to be a drawer.
“It’s official,” he said. “Ya boy has gone mad.”
He hadn’t asked to play this game, so Jabez headed back to the couch and leaned into the act of avoidance. He picked up his phone and doom scrolled through social media while YouTube videos auto-played on the television. A couple of friends sent texts asking how he was holding up but he ignored them.
Jabez had grown tired of his devices long before twilight arrived but, when it did, he climbed into bed and lay on his back. He willed himself to stay in that exact position all night. Keep your Black ass on your back, he thought over and over until he passed out. The following morning, though, he woke up on his stomach. Hurling himself onto his knees, the fear of blood stained sheets crashed through his thoughts like a speeding bus through a pane of glass. To his surprise—and absolute delight—there was no blood. There was no pain, either. The knob seemed indifferent to any pressure.
“You’re a strange little shit,” he said to his belly as if speaking to his unborn child.
Awake for the day, Jabez slipped into comfortable house clothes. A friend called and was sent to voicemail. As if on cue, his mom called. He promptly put his phone on Do Not Disturb and streamed a playlist full of Britney, Janet, and Tinashe while he unpacked the many boxes sitting idly in his office. Books were organized into built-in shelves. Knickknacks found more permanent homes. Art was hung. Hours passed and he’d paid as little attention to the knob as he did climate change. For a moment, brief as it was, the unexplainable bodily protuberance had become normalized.
Hours into the day, Jabez took a moment to pat himself on the back for doing the absolute bare minimum. Still pleased, he went onto the back patio and sank into an Adirondack chair. He shifted and repositioned himself until he was comfortable enough to fully sink in. Once he did, he quickly dozed off.
“You really could fall asleep anywhere.”
Jabez jerked awake. He definitely heard Donny’s voice. He would recognize that condescending lilt anywhere. In place of the ghost of his ex was a beautiful sunset. And eleven missed calls. Some people’s internal batteries were charged when their phones buzzed with messages from others. They got off on ‘being wanted.’ All Jabez wanted was to be left alone.
And maybe a bite to eat.
The seismic grumble that rolled through his stomach reminded him of how little he’d been eating lately. Returning any unwanted phone calls could wait. Popping by the grocery store to pick up some quick fix foods was far more important. And for no other reason than having time on his hands, Jabez decided to first test the boundaries of the knob with a shower.
Naked, he watched the water stream. He stood until the room filled with steam. Then, and only then, did he flick a couple of droplets onto himself. Sparks didn’t shoot from the knob nor were there any other alarming reactions. That was enough for him. He turned on the cold water for balance, hopped in, and let his mind wander.
Without being prompted, he thought about how poor his sex life had been with Donny. Initially, the COVID-19 lockdowns were to blame. Donny went on and on about the weight he gained and Jabez woke up every day afraid of being furloughed. In spite of how they met, the two never had much physical chemistry. Turn the world upside down with the fear of a global wipeout and they barely touched one another.
Once society returned to its old ways, Jabez was officially ready to retire masturbating in private like a teenager in their parent’s house. So, on one fall weekend, they went to Prospect Park for a boozy picnic with friends. After everyone packed up to make their way home, Jabez led Donny into a cluster of trees. Inspired by the good time they’d already had, he let an animalistic energy take over. Donny responded well, too. The sex was carnal and triumphant.
Two days later, Jabez learned his boyfriend of three years had been having an affair. They had opened the relationship, but had also agreed upon four simple rules:
- No emotional attachments
- No hookups with exes, friends, or people already in their lives
- No hookups in their apartment
- No need to share details
The only rule Donny hadn’t broken was the fourth.
“Let’s be honest,” he said when confronted. “I never wanted kids.”
“Okay? You make it sound like we were in the middle of the adoption process.”
“It’s not just that. I want a life of abundance.”
“Since when did that become synonymous with gargling another man’s balls? I bought you Le Creuset! Can’t you just admit you fucked up?”
“You don’t get it. Maybe you never will.”
That weekend, Donny packed an abundance of boxes and moved out.
In the present day, Jabez had been in the shower long enough to prune. He turned the water off when a warmth spread throughout his groin. His heartbeat quickened as he watched a second knob emerge from his pubic hair.
“Please don’t cut my dick off.”
The new knob, which was smaller but otherwise identical to its predecessor, did not perform an involuntary penis removal. Though he couldn’t see it happen, he felt the drawer-like stitching materialize. He thought to tug on the drawers—because they were definitely drawers— to see if they’d open. To see what lay inside. That urge wasn’t stronger than his proclivity for avoidance, though, so he dried off and got dressed again.
On his way out the front door, another friend called. He sent them to voicemail and put his phone back on DND. Behind the steering wheel, he sat still until his mobile device synced with the car. Another memory fluttered through his mind which brought on more flapping birds. This time, it all took place in his throat. For a moment, he struggled to breathe. He leaned against the wheel and squeezed his eyes shut until things passed. A third knob, the tiniest of them all, now existed where his Adam’s apple once resided.
Would people be able to see the knobs? Or was it all in his head? He didn’t have the answer and didn’t have the energy to try and find out. Jabez shut the car off and went back inside. He might’ve wanted a Hot Pocket, but he had plenty of pasta he could boil and save himself from any potential awkward encounters with the townies. But the pot of salted water hadn’t even begun before he was gripped by the most difficult memory.
Mere weeks after their break up, Jabez got a call to inform him that Donny had suffered a brain aneurysm. He’d been waiting for the train at Union Square and fell onto the tracks. He was dead before he landed, the train halted before it barreled over his body. His emergency contact information hadn’t been updated, so it was Jabez who was notified.
A catastrophism took him over, his entire body going numb. He sat on what used to be his ex’s side of the bed. He asked a God he wasn’t sure he believed in why Donny couldn’t have died before he learned about the cheating.
Before long, the moon was high and Jabez realized this brutal news was not his to hold. It was the early morning in the UK, Donny’s father answering after the second ring.
“He had an accident. Donny had a really bad accident.”
That’s all Jabez could manage. Donny’s parents kept their grief miles below the surface. His mother calmly thanked him though her tone insinuated he was at fault. She surprised him by letting him know he was not to attend the funeral under any circumstances.
“Honestly, Belinda? From what Donny told me, you probably shouldn’t be there, either.”
“My god, you’re a cunt.”
“What do they say about taking one to know one?”
She, too, hung up on him. And he’d always thought he was good with moms.
He also thought he’d been handling the breakup well, but death has a way of manipulating one’s beliefs. Suddenly, Jabez was assaulted with sorrow-soaked memories that detonated like triggered landmines. There was the bookstore where he and Donny ended up after their first date. The coffee shop baristas who remembered them as a couple and now gave him furtive glances full of pity. Even the aroma of roasted nuts from sidewalk pushcarts brought a wave of emotion.
“I’m helping preserve old New York,” Donny would say each time he bought a bag.
Jabez locked himself in his apartment which turned out to be far worse. The very essence of his dead ex had been woven in the fabric of the apartment. No matter what Jabez did or where he went, the city had become a painful tapestry of a life gone up in flames.
That’s why he bought the house above the quarry. Why he sold almost all the items he and Donny purchased together. Why he didn’t tell anyone his moving date until there was no time left for them to try and persuade him otherwise.
“You’re such a good dude,” a friend said over a final round of drinks. “A little selfish, but you didn’t deserve what he put you through, ya know? Maybe you dodged a bullet.”
“You ‘dodge a bullet’ when you step over a pile of dog shit,” Jabez said. “Not when your boyfriend drops dead on the train tracks at 14th Street.”
“No, you know what I mean.”
“Is that how you’re interpreting this interaction?”
Standing above the stove, Jabez’s throat dried out and became prickly like a cactus. He couldn’t even cough, the breath trapped. The moment he reached for a glass to fill with water, the pain was gone. He went back to the kitchen window and, because it had gotten dark outside, he could clearly see his reflection. Apart from the gold trimmed knob now situated in the center of his forehead, he looked exactly the same.
“Yeah, no. This deserves hard liquor.”
He grabbed a bottle of añejo tequila and stepped onto the back patio again. The air was fragrant and gentle as it moved around him. Insects buzzed and chittered. He kicked off his sandals and let his soles get more acclimated with the wood’s grain patterns. The night was, to put it simply, pretty damn perfect.
“The only thing missing is a doorknob crawling out of my face. Oh, wait!”
Jabez struggled to pluck the cork from the añejo and gave up. He tapped into his phone’s Photos album only to be served an auto-generated slideshow titled ‘You and Donny Through the Years.’ As if triggered, the knobs began to vibrate. Their intensity grew from subtle to severe, waves of reverberation making his flesh separate from the bone.
He reached for the tequila again, this time risking an injury by practically clawing the cork out. One swig wasn’t enough. Two barely registered. The third kicked enough to make him wince. Shaking as if he were mid-exorcism, Jabez knew there was only one thing for him to do: press play on his phone.
A blend of static photos and video clips were set to smooth jazz. While only sixty seconds, the video seemed to take an eternity to play out. And as images of he and Donny faded into each other, a barrage of questions poured in.
What were the rules of punishment when the future someone offered you was taken away?
Was he or wasn’t he allowed to be angry at a dead man?
Did our earthly sins get absolved once we stopped breathing?
In spite of the vibrations, Jabez was hit with a burning clarity. The déjà vu he’d experienced upon seeing that first knob now made sense. Not only had he seen them before, he had interacted with them on a daily basis.
Restless during the early days of the pandemic lockdown, Donny had embarked on a spree of DIY projects. One involved ‘upgrading’ their dresser drawers with handcrafted doorknobs he found online. Each had a unique design, but they all shared the same mother of pearl finish.
“Is that a gold trim? Isn’t gold expensive? How expensive were these?”
“Probably just paint.” He looped one arm around my back and used his free hand to rub my chest. “Can’t you imagine us in a house upstate spending our weekends restoring it?”
“Not one bit, but I’d like that.”
The dresser was the only piece Donny wanted to take with him when he moved out. This pushed Jabez over the edge. A full-blown meltdown took place. He screamed how the absence of the dresser would leave a gaping hole in the room. He threatened to sue Donny for theft. Besides, where would he even put such a big piece of furniture if he was going to couch surf until he found his next apartment? Jabez knew he was being petty. That didn’t matter. He couldn’t stop himself. His heart had been ripped out and tossed into a meat grinder. He hadn’t wanted to admit it before but, as he stood on the back patio, he realized he was still in love.
Everyone in his life knew it, too. It was why they’d been calling and texting nonstop over the last couple of days. They didn’t really care about his visions of repainting the dining room or planting daisies in the garden. They might feign interest in dumb decor details, but what they really wanted to know was how he was handling Donny’s first birthday since he passed away.
“I don’t know, Donny. How’m I doing?”
He hadn’t spoken aloud his ex-boyfriend’s name since that impossible phone call to his parents. A gust of wind colder than a high ridge in Antarctica swept through. Tree branches swayed, one cracking loudly. The insects went silent and, when the wind subsided, all was silent.
The vibrations stopped, too.
Solace would not be found on the patio or in the bottle of tequila, so Jabez retreated to his bedroom. Sleep proved how cruel it could be by staying just out of reach. But time continued to move forward. When he cracked his eyes open and saw the first remnants of morning, he climbed out of bed. There, in the center of his chest, was another knob.
He hadn’t even felt it come through.
