One Single Day

Rory sat on the edge of the bar, looking towards the entrance and repeatedly checking his cell phone. Every time he did so, his disappointed sighs grew more and more resigned. He had tried calling and sending text messages, without success. Where the hell was Jack?

"What's the matter, gorgeous?"

Rory looked up as an attractive man slid onto the barstool next to him, smiling warmly.

"Have you been stood up?" the man asked.

Rory nodded.

"Have a drink with me then. Let me cheer you up."

No.

Rory stood.

"Thanks for the offer, but I'm not interested. I think I'll head home. I'm pretty tired."

The man reached out and put his hand on Rory's shoulder.

Don't! Take your hands off him!

"Come on. Just one drink. It breaks my heart to see you so sad. I just want cheer you up, that's all."

No, Rory.

Rory gave the man a small smile.

"One drink."

RORY!

I woke up, sheets clinging to my body, my pillow wet with tears. I pressed my hands to my face and made a sound that was half a sob, half a groan. I had the dream again... It had been a couple of months since the last time I had it. But that's the way it always was; it always came when I least expected it. I sat up, tossed the sheets aside and staggered towards the bathroom.

The warm water from the shower cascaded over me. I stood still under the spray, allowing it to cleanse me, wash away the cold sweat and tears that always came with that dream. In the beginning, the dream came every night, then it came less and less, but it was always just as painful. And it would never completely go away.

Rory... I never knew exactly what happened that night, but my dreams would mercilessly show me scenario after scenario of what may have happened. All I know for a fact is that I failed him; I wasn't where I was supposed to be, and because of that I lost the love of my life.

"Victim number three" is what they called him. It felt so cold, so casual. To me he was everything, my whole world, and now he was gone. Because I wasn't there. Because I had forgotten. And because of I had forgotten, a monster was able to take my Rory. A monster with no conscience who managed to take two more lives before finally caught. But this isn't about him. This is about Rory... and me.

They all said it wasn't my fault: cops, shrinks, our friends, my family, his family... they all said it. His parents hugged me at the funeral and said that no one blamed me, and I shouldn't either. But no matter what anyone said, I still did. I felt like absolution could only come from one person, and he wasn't here to give me that. Every night I cried and asked him forgive me, but how could I know if he heard me?

I hated myself, just as much as I hated the killer. I wanted to die. The pain inside my heart, soul and gut already made me feel like I was dying, but I wanted to speed up the process. But every time I wanted to do it, the one thing that stayed my hand was the knowledge that Rory wouldn't want me to. That much I knew.

So I took it: the pain, the nightmares... they were my punishment. My purgatory. Part of me even welcomed the nightmares. In my dreams I could always see Rory so clearly. In my waking hours I would sometimes struggle to remember what he looked like. The image of him in my head would be unclear and blurred. When that happened I would panic and I would take out every photo of him that I had, staring at them for hours trying to imprint his face onto my soul.

Stepping out of the shower I grabbed a towel and started drying myself. I glanced towards the mirror; the reflection was not pleasant. Tired green eyes stared sadly back at me, my dark brown hair which had once been neat and short now reached down past my shoulders, and my face hadn't been shaved in a couple of days. I was still in good physical shape, though, as I often went running. That was the only time when I could really let go and feel peaceful. It was as if I ran away from myself. I shrugged and turned my back to the mirror.

After dressing I called in sick. I was in no shape to go to work and I had somewhere I'd rather be today. I made a sandwich for breakfast, but I had no appetite so I put it back in the fridge and just had coffee. And as I sat there, miserably slumped over the table, my thoughts returned to Rory. They always did.

******

I was twenty-two when Rory and I met. He was a year younger than me. Some friends of mine were having a party. I had a sneaking suspicion that they were planning on fixing me up with someone. I wasn't very keen on the idea, but I went to the party anyway. Almost as soon as I stepped inside the house I noticed him: a gorgeous brown-eyed creature with messy light blonde hair, average height and build, wearing figure-hugging faded black jeans and a vintage band-tee, along with a smile that could melt Antarctica. And in a for me uncharacteristic stroke of luck it turned out he was the one my friends wanted to introduce me to.

We hit it off right away. I had always had a thing for adorable shy guys, and Rory certainly fit into that category. I thoroughly enjoyed myself making him blush in various ways (seductively crowding his personal space, whispering in his ear, letting my hand "accidentally" brush against his ass, etc.). When we danced I asked him to come home with me, expecting a no, silently roaring with joy when he said yes. We took a cab to my apartment and made the bedsprings creak until we both fell asleep from exhaustion.

I don't really know what my expectations were when I took Rory home that night. I wanted more than one night, that was for sure, but I definitely didn't expect to fall for him as hard as I did. It took little more than a week for me to realise that I loved him, another couple of days for me to tell him out loud. He said he loved me too, and after just a month he moved in with me.

It was the happiest time of my life. We were great together. The sex was mind-blowing. Rory had a hard time admitting it, but he had a tremendous appetite, and could go on for hours sometimes, which suited me just fine. We could talk or be quiet, go out or stay in - it didn't matter what we did, we were almost always perfectly content and happy. I say "almost" because like with all couples things weren't always perfect. We could both (usually me) screw up and act like jerks at times. But at such times our problems were always quickly resolved, forgiveness always granted, and we would come out of it with a better understanding of each other than before.

We were together a year and a half. And then it happened. We had both been busy that week and agreed to go out after work on Friday. But when Friday came, I simply forgot. I ran into an old friend and went for a beer with him. We sat shooting the shit for so long, that when it occurred to me to call Rory I was already two hours late. I had switched off my phone earlier when I had made a stop at the library and idiotically enough forgotten to switch it back on. After listening to the messages he had left me, wincing when I heard the disappointment and irritation in his voice, I tried calling Rory. When he didn't answer I called the bar where I was supposed to meet him, but he wasn't there anymore. I went home but he wasn't there either. I called around but no one knew where he was.

At this point I was getting really scared. Even if he was pissed at me, Rory wasn't the type to run off and not let anyone know where he was. Our friends helped me look for him. We went to the bar, and the bartender remembered Rory, but couldn't remember seeing anyone speak to him or anything that might help. We drove around, asking people if they had seen Rory, and called everyone we could possibly think of, but when there was no sign of Rory all that was left to do was to go to the police.

Three days later our worst fears came true when Rory was found. He'd been violated, strangled and then discarded like trash. I remember clearly the moment when they gave us the news. We understood the second the police set foot inside the house. We could see it in their faces. Still we waited for them to say it, clinging to the last ray of hope that Rory was still alive. Rory's best friend Tammy was holding on to my arm. There were bruises from her fingers afterwards, but I felt no pain at the time. And then the words came. The words that made everything final. There were screams. Weeping. My parents hugged me. And I kept thinking:

It's not true. There's been some mistake. Not Rory. It can't be true.

******

The sky was fittingly grey. It could start raining any moment, but I didn't care. There was no wind and not particularly cold, so a little rain wouldn't matter. I passed headstone after headstone, the red rose in my hand swaying as I walked. Up ahead I could see my goal: "Rory King -- Always in Our Hearts".

There were fresh flowers on Rory's grave. Pink carnations. These were from Tammy. She always left pink carnations. I sat down beside the grave. Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes.

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

There were sounds of footsteps approaching. I wiped away the tear that had trickled from the corner of my eye. As I looked up I saw a tiny, white-haired little old lady. Her figure seemed so frail, but there was a lot of energy in her walk. When she saw me, she stopped and smiled, peering at me over thick spectacles.

"Hello," she said.

"Hello." I managed to return her smile.

She glanced at the grave, then at the rose I still held in my hand.

"Someone you loved," she said.

I nodded. More tears escaped my eyes, but this time I didn't bother to wipe them away. The old lady stood next to me. She placed a hand on my shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. It felt soothing; her comfort didn't seem to come from pity, but from understanding.

"I never got to say goodbye," I said. "I would give anything if I could just..."

I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath to calm myself down. I felt the lady carefully wipe away my tears with her fingers.

"I know, Jack. I know."

I looked up in surprise.

"How do you know my name?"

She smiled gently.

"That's not important, dear. What's important is this: we're giving you a gift."

"What? Who... What are you talking about?"

I was beginning to suspect the poor lady might be senile and the Jack thing was just a coincidence.

"What gift?" I asked.

"The gift of time," she said. "One day to be precise. Twenty-four hours, starting midnight tonight. No more, no less."

Her smile softened. I could feel tiny drops of rain on my face.

"One day to say goodbye," she continued. "One day with Rory."

I stiffened. Then I felt anger rising inside me like a storm.

"Who are you? What are trying to do to me? Who put you up to this?"

I rose to my feet, staring down at her.

"What kind of sick joke is this?" I growled.

"This is no joke," she said. Suddenly, I felt as if an awesome power was emanating from her. She was a tiny little old lady but in an instant she had an unreadable expression in her eyes, like that of a mighty queen. And then her bent back straightened, her wrinkled face grew smooth, and her white hair turned flaming red before my very eyes. Her brown coat had transformed into a long, flowing white dress. The frail old lady was gone. Instead a beautiful young woman stood before me. My legs started feeling weak, and I wanted to sit down but I was too shocked to move.

"One day," the woman said. "Twenty-four hours..."

She began walking away, but turned to look back at me, her lips curving in a strange smile.

"...starting midnight tonight."

******

I woke up, the rain pounding against my windows. I was lying on my couch, my apartment was dark and the only light in the room was coming from the street lamp outside. I looked at my watch. 6:04 PM. I laughed joylessly. A dream...! I didn't remember doing it, but I must have stretched out on the couch after my attempted breakfast and fallen asleep. And slept this whole time. I covered my face with my arm and groaned. No wonder I dreamt weird shit like that if I slept through the day like this.

I swayed a little as I sat up, feeling dizzy. When that subsided, I got up and walked around switching on lights. I still didn't have any appetite, but I forced myself to eat anyway, and I actually felt a little better afterwards. I was still unnerved by the weird dream, though. I glanced at the kitchen clock.

"...midnight tonight."

Rubbing my forehead I made a mental note to call my shrink in the morning. Then I poured myself a generous amount of whiskey and started going through my DVD collection, looking for movies with a lot of action, something to keep me distracted. Deciding on cult favorites like "The Hidden" and "Sin City", I settled down on the couch.

Watching movies worked... sort of. I started feeling more relaxed, and the booze helped. But I kept checking the time: 7:48... 8: 32... 9:15... Why couldn't I stop doing that? Because in the dream I had been promised the one thing I wanted but never could have, and no matter how hard I tried to ignore it, there was this little thought that kept echoing in my mind:

It would be great if it were true, though. Wouldn't it?

I kept ignoring the voice, turning my attention back to my cult flicks. Midnight was fast approaching, and I told myself it would be easier to let go of the dream after midnight had passed. So I kept watching movies... and checking the time.

10:02

Only two hours left.

10: 59

Not long now.

11:37

Come on, dammit!

11:59

And... the clock struck twelve. Pausing the movie, I stood up and listened. There was complete silence, except for a car driving by outside. I took a deep breath.

"See?" I said out loud. "Just a bullshit dream. And I'm..." I laughed. "...talking to myself. I'm certifiable."

Flopping back down on the couch I reached for the remote... and froze. A voice broke the silence. Coming from the bedroom. A voice that shouldn't be there.

"Jack?"

I started shaking. I sat still, not daring to do anything.

"Calm down," I thought. "Just a figment of my imagination. I'm going to call Dr. Harris in the morning, and everything will..."

I heard footsteps, one after another, coming slowly closer. And then they stopped. I turned my head and I saw him.

Rory. My Rory. Smiling that smile that was always reserved just for me. He was even more beautiful than I remembered. Tears began to flow uncontrollably from my face. I got up and staggered towards him, but my legs were so shaky that I fell to my knees. He came towards me; reaching out his hand he touched my cheek. One of his tears fell on my forehead.

"Jack..." he whispered.

I threw my arms around his waist. My sobs almost became screams when I pressed my face against his body. His familiar scent filled my nostrils, and a thousand memories flashed through my brain; perfect moments about our time together that I hadn't dared to think about for so long because they were too painful now raced through me like electricity.

Rory's hands caressed the back of my neck, then my hair. I looked up at him.

"Have I finally gone crazy? Or am I dreaming again? If I'm dreaming I don't ever want to wake up."

He smiled and slowly shook his head.

"You're not crazy. And you're not dreaming."

I held on to him as I rose to my feet.

"Am I dead?" I asked.

"No, Jack."

His tears flowed over my fingers as I cupped his face in my hands.

"Are you really here?"

He threw his arms around my neck and pressed his lips against mine. As we kissed, I pulled his body as hard against me as I dared. My tongue slipped into his mouth and found his and they twisted together until the necessity to breathe forced our lips apart. Panting, I leaned my forehead against Rory's. I put my hand on his cheek, and he covered it with his, entwining our fingers.

"I'm here, Jack," he whispered. "For one day at least."

"One day..." I shook my head. "Then it was real? The woman and all that?"

Rory nodded.

"One day..." I repeated. Rory nodded.

"One day... so let's not waste a single minute"

Holding on to my hand, he led me towards the bedroom.

******

We did not make love. Not that we didn't want to, but the explosion of emotions that our unexpected reunion had set off had, to be honest, exhausted us both. And I was actually quite content with simply lying with Rory in my arms, feeling his skin against mine, feeling his scent, feeling his soft hair on my chest as he rested his head against it. It seemed as though, as I experienced all these familiar sensations, that I for the first time fully understood just how lost I'd been without Rory.

"Jack?" he whispered, planting a soft kiss against my skin.

"Hmm?"

"How long has it been? Since I... Since I died?"

I sighed deeply and held him closer.

"Three years."

"That long?" Rory mused. "I could have sworn it was less. Time feels so different... where I am."

"What's it like there? On, you know, 'the other side'?"

"I'm not allowed to tell," he said. "No one's supposed to know before they actually get there."

"I guess I can wait."

Propping himself up on one elbow, Rory looked down at me.

"I can hear you, you know. When you talk to me. I can hear you."

Smiling, I tried pulling him down for a kiss, but he stopped me by grabbing my hand.

"Jack," he said, his voice trembling. "It wasn't your fault."

"Rory..."

"No, listen! I hear you, so many times, asking me to forgive you, but you must believe me when I say that there's nothing to forgive. You weren't the one who killed me. No one is to blame but him. I know you love me. And I want you to stop punishing yourself. I love you so much, Jack. I want you to be happy."

"I should have been there," I said, fighting back a new flood of tears. "If I had been there, he wouldn't have been able to..."

"Jack."

Rory's voice was very firm and there was decisiveness in his eyes.

"It wasn't your fault," he repeated.

For the first time, those words actually meant something. It felt like I could believe them.

"Say you'll forgive me, anyway," I begged him. "Please. I need to hear it."

He smiled sadly.

"I forgive you, Jack."

He kissed me gently, then laid back down in my arms.

"You must be tired, Jack," he murmured. "You should sleep."

"I don't want to sleep," I said, even though my eyelids were growing heavy. "I want to stay awake and look at you."

"Sleep, anyway. So you can be good and rested... tomorrow."

Rory yawned. He was falling asleep, fast.

"I missed you," I whispered. "I missed you so much."

Then I closed my eyes and listened to the rain as sleep overpowered me. I didn't dream.

******

Soft light from the window woke me up. Rubbing my eyes, I glanced at Rory's side of the bed. It was empty, but before I could start doubting last nights events Rory entered the room, a dreamy smile on his face. He was wearing one of my T-shirts, which was too big for him, looking completely adorable, drying his hair with a towel. When he saw I was awake, he dropped the towel on the floor. Throwing back the covers he crawled onto the bed and straddled my lap, leaning down to kiss me.

"Good morning," he grinned at me.

I wrapped my arms around him and inhaled the scent of his freshly showered body.

"It's still so unbelievable," I whispered, sliding my hands up underneath the T-shirt. "You're really here."

Rory closed his eyes and sighed my name as my hands moved over his skin. I grabbed the hem of the T-shirt, and Rory automatically held out his arms so that I could smoothly pull it off. Rolling over, we wriggled out of our underwear. As I positioned myself on top of Rory between his legs, we simultaneously gasped at the sensation that was so familiar, yet with a new intensity. He bucked up his hips, pushing his hardening member against mine. The touch made me groan, and Rory smirked, but let out a groan of his own as I reached between our bodies and captured our shafts in my hand. I was stroking them together as I braced myself on my left arm, looking down at my love, writhing beneath me.