Impermanence

Jim stepped into the loft and was instantly assailed by an overpowering scent. It almost dropped him to his knees but far worse than the smell itself was what it represented.

His worst fears were confirmed.

Blair had deceived him.

The suspicion had grown gradually. A slight alteration in his Guide's personal style, a phone call hastily abandoned at Jim's approach. Finally, he had looked at Sandburg one morning -- really looked at him -- and seen all the little changes that he'd missed from day to day but which now added up to an enormous difference.

Jim almost said something then. But part of him hoped that even at this late date Blair would be the first to speak, would at last tell him the truth.

Jim was a big boy. He could handle it.

Perhaps.

He wasn't so sure now as proof of Blair's perfidy filled his nostrils. God, how could Sandburg have done it here? Couldn't he have the decency, the common courtesy, to go elsewhere? There were places for this sort of thing, Jim knew, though he himself had never had to resort to them.

He headed for the bathroom, drawn by the sound of running water and the low murmur of Sandburg humming to himself. The younger man was obviously trying to clean up and remove all traces of his recent activities.

Too late, Jim thought bleakly. Too late for both of us.

He pushed open the bathroom door and surveyed the scene. Blair stood motionless, hair a mass of tight, wet ringlets, a horror-stricken expression on his face as he stared at Jim. Tiny squares of tissue paper littered the floor and sink, punctuated by thin, pastel-colored rods. He clutched convulsively at the bottle of neutralizer in his hand.

"Why, Blair? Just tell me why?"

"Oh, god, Jim! Man, I didn't want you to find out this way -- I thought I could take care of it myself." His voice shook as he babbled on. "I mean, I knew I was waiting too long but my usual stylist is on vacation and I don't let just anybody work on my hair."

"But why couldn't you just tell me the truth, Sandburg?"

"I ... I wasn't sure you could accept this part of me. Can you, Jim? Can you love me even though I'm not naturally curly-haired?"

Jim took a step forward and opened his arms, quickly finding them full of wet Blair. "Of course, I can, Chief. I'd love you even if you were bald."

"I'm so sorry, man. I shouldn't have kept something so important from you. I should've trusted you. You'd never have kept something like that from me." Jim stiffened and Blair looked up uneasily. "Uh, Jim? I'm right, aren't I? You'd never have kept something like that from me, would you? Jim?" His voice trailed away in apprehension.

Jim looked away then met Blair's eyes again, his jaw clenching. "I have my own confession to make, Chief."

"You can tell me anything, big guy."

A deep breath. "You know, they can do wonders with colored contact lenses these days."

"Jim!"

the end
11 January 1998