Everything and Nothing

Rachel Anton & Laura Blaurosen

Maps and Legends Index
"In the desert, ... there is everything, and there is nothing .... It is God without man."

I didn't think of that myself. Some crusty old French guy wrote it about a million years ago, and some clever ad man who worked for the parks department decided to stick it on a brochure, and I read it and thought it was really fucking cool. Cause, yeah. I can't think of a better way to describe the desert.

It only took us about three hours to get from Las Vegas to Death Valley, but Death Valley was a lot bigger than I expected. We spent the whole day driving around the park, exploring every weird little attraction we could find- salt flats, and sand dunes, and places with names like Hell's Gate, Coffin Peak, and Starvation Canyon. I'm pretty sure we didn't even begin to scratch the surface, but we saw so much and had such a good time that by the time we were ready to camp for the night I'd almost completely forgotten the horrors of Brian Does Vegas.

As usual, he chose the most bizarre, remote location imaginable for us to sleep. It was literally the middle of nowhere. Nothing but sand as far as we could see, and I'm pretty sure it was illegal to camp there, but I wasn't about to complain. He seemed really thrilled with it, and I'd rather have him cheerful and sober in the middle of the desert than drunk and belligerent in a fancy hotel room.

He'd bought some Peyote back in Pittsburgh just for this occasion, and we ate it at sunset, after we'd set up our little makeshift camping area. Neither of us had ever done it before, so we weren't really sure what to expect. I was a little nervous that it would make me sick- I really do have allergic reactions to certain drugs- and I almost puked just from tasting it, but I was mostly excited about trying something new with Brian. About him trying something new with me.

I'm not exactly sure how to describe what happened next. Some of it is muddled and hazy, some so distinct and clear that I feel like I could reach out and grab it, hold it to my heart and never let go. All of it is very weird.

I suppose we can break it down into three distinct phases. The first, I'll call the pre-trip. Before the stuff started to really take effect.

During the pre-trip, things were about as normal as can be imagined, given the fact that we were camping in a fucking ocean of sand. Brian walked around taking pictures of the sunset, and the sand dunes, and some strange looking rocks and plants he found.  I sat on the sleeping bag and drew with my pastels.  

"It's really beautiful here," I said to him, and he agreed.

"And just think," he said. "We know what's on the other side. The pioneers had no idea. Can you imagine just leaving it all behind, for something you couldn't even guarantee?"

"Kinda..."

That was pretty much what he was asking me to do in Vegas, wasn't it? I looked up from my drawing to see if I could catch his eye, but he was still snapping pictures, probably oblivious.

"Now that's balls," he told me. "Pure balls."

Or maybe not so oblivious. Maybe he was trying to make a point about how brave it would be for me to go with him. Who knows.

"Didn't most of them go crazy before they even got to California?" I asked. "Didn't some of them wind up cannibalizing each other out here?"

That got him to look at me, with a funny little smirk, and I took the opportunity to hold up the drawing I'd just finished for his perusal.

"How's this?" I asked. "Better than the emaciated kitties?"

"Oh, Justin..." he said, and I could tell by the tone of his voice and the way his face went slack that he was very impressed. I love it when I can do that to him. Granted, it usually happens when I'm sucking his dick, but sometimes other things will get to him just as well.

He sat next to me on the sleeping bag and took the picture from me. Looked up at the sky and down at the paper and then back up again.

"That's...pretty damn good."

I beamed back at him, drinking in the praise.

"God," he laughed. "There's gotta be about a hundred ad slogans running through my head to go with this picture. And there's gotta be at least ten of Vangaurd's clients I could've used them on."

I tensed up a little at the mention of his job, and thought briefly of the previous night, but his tone was light and amused so I tried not to worry about it.

"Oh well. Let's hang it instead," he said, and handed it back to me. "In our new place."

And that brought the tension up to a whole different level. So now he was just assuming this was gonna happen, before I'd even said yes? When I'd told him explicitly that I didn't know?

"You're really serious about that?" I asked, not knowing what else to say without running the risk of a very *very* bad trip.

"Sure," he said, and wrapped his arm around my shoulders. Kissed the top of my head. "What've we got to lose?"

I didn't answer that. Couldn't answer that. Kept my big mouth shut, and nuzzled against him to watch the rest of the sunset in silence. When it was done we cooked some Ramen on our little Coleman stove, which I puked back up almost immediately after ingesting, and that's around the time we entered stage two- The Stupids.

During The Stupids, everything I did and thought seemed really profound, but was actually really very stupid. This is the part that's pretty blurry, when I try to remember it. I have no idea how long it lasted- it could've been five or six hours, could've been forty-five minutes. I know that it got dark, and that at some point I decided that I had a deep  connection to the natural world, and could, in fact, talk to animals with my mind.

I remember kneeling on the sand in my underwear with a flashlight, trying to explain to a small snake I'd found that it was my spirit guide and I wanted it to give me some guidance. Trying to explain with my eyes, and a set of peculiar hand gestures.

I remember Brian noticing me doing this, and telling me to get the fuck away from the snake, and I remember telling him he had no faith in the spirit world, but doing what he said anyway, because I trusted him more than the snake.

I remember us both lying on the sleeping bag, looking up at the sky, and Brian telling me that the stars were walking, like people.

"The aliens are giving us a light show," he said. And that seemed like an amazing revelation to me. He told me to connect the dots, and I did, and I saw exactly what he was talking about. Then we started seeing animals. Cats and monkeys and birds, and they were all walking and flying, spinning around us like the electric light parade at Disney World. It was the fucking coolest thing I've ever seen in my life.

"Look, look, a horsie," I said, and pointed it out for him. "It's got a lady on it."

"It's yer mom," he said. "She's naked and calling for me..."

"Fuck you! You are so disgusting! I can't believe you had that dream."

It was disgusting, and I still can't believe he not only had that dream, but felt compelled to tell me about it, in revolting detail It was still kinda funny, though. He started giggling, and so did I, and pretty soon we were both almost crying from laughing so hard. Then he moaned, "Oh God, I'm gonna vomit," and rolled off the sleeping back and onto all fours in the sand. He made a little retching sound, but nothing came out, so he rolled back and said, "Forget it."

I remember noticing him staring at me, and asking what he saw, and him telling me, "You're orange. Like fire."

He moved his hand over me, close but not touching, and said it again. "Like fire."

"Maybe it's my aura," I said.

"S'beautiful..." he sighed. "S'like your soul or something."

I said, "I think that's what an aura is."

I grabbed onto his hand and ran it up and down over my chest.

"Does it hurt?" I asked him.

He shook his head. "S'warm. Like sex. Like the warmth in your gut."

"Do you think that snake went away?" I asked him, randomly. "I'm kind of scared of it now."

"Won't come near your fire soul. Hey, that should be a song. Fire Soul. I used to play guitar, you know. Me and Mikey. We were gonna be big stars." I think he said that all in one breath, like a rambling little boy.  

"What happened?"

"We sucked ass."

I remember him asking me if I was still having a good time, and telling him that it was the best time I'd ever had in my entire life, and him smiling and saying, "Good. I want you to remember this, Justin. I want you to always remember this. Next time I'm being an asshole, just remember this."

"I'll never forget," I said. "Unless I get amnesia again."

And after that, I made a concerted effort to control my mind so that my memories of the night would always stay clear. And that's when we enter stage three, which I have no name for. It's too important to name.

Wow, that sounded stupid.

"Am I still on fire?" I asked him.

He squinted at me for a little bit, then nodded. "Hey, you think your soul could make me come?"

"I think...probably, yeah."

I rolled on top of him to test the theory, straddled his hips and nuzzled his nose and kissed him wetly. He moaned very loudly and ran his hands up and down my arms, onto my back. The contact was almost overwhelming, and I realized we hadn't really been touching at all since we took the peyote. That had obviously been a mistake. It felt unbelievable.

I started rocking against him and, I swear to god, I almost came right there. I felt like he was inside me already. Like he was inside me everywhere. There was denim and cotton between our cocks, but it felt like there was nothing at all. It felt like our skin was melting together through the fabric.

His hands slid down, under my briefs and onto my ass, and he squeezed and pulled at me as we kissed and kissed, and I don't even know how to begin describing those kisses- how much he was saying with them, and how loudly he was saying it. Eventually I had to tear my mouth away from his because I was actually a little bit afraid of it.

I licked his neck, and he made a noise I've never heard him make before. Something high pitched and needy. He was needy. He was still pulling at me,  writhing underneath me, and when I looked into his eyes I saw something hungry and wild there.

Brian's never needy. Brian has more sex than any human was ever designed to endure. He wants it all the time, but he never ever needs it. But he did that night. He needed it.

"God, Jus'...Jus'in," he breathed hotly against my cheek. "Your cock is so...Fuck me. Fuck me, Justin."

I can't believe he asked for that. Not even asked. He was fucking begging. His voice...he was begging, and I can't believe it. I still can't believe it.

"Do it," he said, when I just sat there staring at him. "Fucking do it."

My hands were shaking when I pulled off his jeans, when I put on the condom, and by the time I slid into him, quick and hard like he seemed to want it, my entire body was trembling.

He cried out like a wounded animal, and I continued to stare. I was fascinated. He was fascinating.

I started moving, as smooth and methodical as I could manage, but then he grabbed my face and threw me off.

"Never gonna fuck another guy?" he asked urgently, locking his eyes on mine. "Ever?"

His words vibrated through me, like an electric shock. I didn't know why he was asking me that, why that was suddenly important.

"Never," I told him, and that was probably a pretty stupid thing to promise, but I honestly couldn't imagine why I ever would.

"Sure?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"S'no point," I said. "Never be this good with anyone else."

"Never?"

"Never...never ever ever..."

I had to look away then, to drop my head against his shoulder and close my eyes, because the rest of my body was about to spontaneously combust. My cock was thrusting violently, completely of its own accord, completely out of my control. I felt like his flesh was everywhere around me, like his blood was rushing through me. Like his heart was in my chest, and it burned and ached.  

I had to concentrate. Had to calm down. It was too much.

"So beautiful," I said. "You're so beautiful. Perfect."

"Jus-Justin. Not. Ugh. Perf...M'not."

"You are to me. For me."

I kissed his neck, and then his cheek. All over his face. His sweet, fuckable mouth.

"Love you," I whispered against his lips. "I love you."

"Don't," he said. Don't. "Fuck...love."

I tasted salt water in my mouth. Opened my eyes and saw it sliding down his face.

"Don't say that," I begged him. "Please, don't say that." I'd heard enough of that bullshit from him to last several lifetimes, and I knew he didn't even believe it himself. He didn't want me to stop loving him. He wanted my love, needed it, soaked it up like a dying plant drinks water. He always had and, hopefully, always would. It broke my heart to hear him turning it down, like he didn't deserve it. Like he thought I should just let him dry up and blow away.

"M'not good...for you," he panted. "Not good."

"You are good," I said, and he let out a shaky sob. I licked across his cheeks, under his nose, ate his tears and willed him to believe me. "Better than anyone."

He latched his mouth onto my shoulder, biting and shaking his head like a dog with a chew toy, and his arms tightened around me. I felt his cock twitch against my stomach, and then the hot splash of him on my skin, and that sent me hurtling towards an orgasm that was almost terrifying in its intensity.

When it was over, I stayed inside him, on top of him, for a long time, just kissing him everywhere I could reach, and letting him pull on my hair and bite me and cry.

I think I was probably crying by then too, but I don't really know for sure. It was getting hard for me to tell what was him and what was me. It was like we were one person almost. I know people say that all the time, and it sounds so cheezy and fake, and I never thought it was something you could actually feel, but I felt it that night, in the desert. Maybe the people who say that are on a lot of hallucinogenic drugs.

In any case, I felt what he felt- all the confusion and the fear and the self-loathing and the love, god, the love. I saw myself through his eyes- beautiful, pure, and eternal, like an element. Like fire. I hoped that he could feel what was in me. I hoped that he knew how good he was in my heart. I wanted to coat his insides with it, so it would always be with him.

But eventually, I had to pull out and take a piss.

When I came back, he was curled up inside the sleeping bag, wiping his face. I knelt down next to him and touched his hair. He smiled thinly, weakly, falsely.

"That was supposed to be better shit than that," he said, and laughed uncomfortably. He held open the bag, and I crawled in.

"S'not so bad." I kissed his chest, and felt his fingers tangling in my hair, massaging my scalp.

"Sorry if I freaked you out."

"You didn't," I said, but that wasn't entirely true. I was pretty fucking freaked out. I'd never seen him like that before, never seen him cry like that- with the abandon of a child. Not even during that first horrible month after I got out of the hospital.   

I pressed my ear to his chest and felt his breathing start to even out. The stars were still walking around, I noticed, but I didn't really want to look at that anymore. It was a little nauseating.

"Justin, I..." he started, then drifted off into a sigh. He was still playing with my hair. Our legs were sweaty and tangled together in the sleeping bag. I felt like there was nothing else in the universe- the desert and the sky were so fucking big. I wanted to know what he was thinking, without having to ask, but the connection wasn't the same as it had been when I was inside him.

"What?"

"Nothin', I just...I dunno what I'd do without you is all," he said quietly. "And I'm trying to remember exactly when that happened. And how. N'why..."

I knew the answers to all those questions, but I didn't want to tell him that. I knew it would freak him out, and he was already freaked out enough. He was already lying there, like a big open wound, bleeding all over the sand and into me, giving me everything.

"You don't have to worry what you'd do without me," I told him. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Don't really understand why..."

"I told you. You're perfect for me. You're good...so incredibly good to me."

He choked out a bitter little broken laugh, and I could feel his whole body tense up in preparation to deny it.

"How can you possibly say that? How can you think that, with everyone around you telling you what a monumental asshole I am? With me-"

"Everyone around me doesn't know shit," I interrupted him. "Nobody else sees what I do."

I leaned up on my elbow so that he could see my face, so that I could tell him with my eyes. He still looked absolutely miserable. Eyes red, skin blotchy, and mouth turned down

"Nobody else was there when I was crying from nightmares about Chris Hobbs, and you held me all night." His frown deepened at that, and he tried to look away, but I took his chin in my hand and forced him to keep his eyes on me. I felt more tears building and burning in my throat, thinking about it, but I willed myself to keep going until it was all out.

"Nobody was there when you made me care about doing art again, or when you saved me from having to drop out of school even though I'd fucking walked out on you, or any of the other zillion things you've done for me when no one else was looking. They don't know the way you touch me when we're alone. The way you look at me...They could never understand how much you give me every day. Every minute. And if anyone really believes you're the asshole you pretend to be, then they're fucking stupid."

He closed his eyes and shook his head, and I wanted to shake him. To kiss him. To make him see himself through my eyes, somehow.

"You're the most amazing person I've ever known," I told him, and pressed my lips to his forehead. I don't think he believed me, but he didn't argue with me anymore. Just held me quietly for a long time.

"S'gonna be great in San Francisco," he said, eventually. "You'll love it."

I just nodded, not entirely sure if he was talking about moving there, or just visiting. But then he went on.

"We'll find a great place to live...get you back in school. Finding a job at the top firm there's gonna be like taking candy from a baby. And I'll make partner before the year is out. And we'll be back in the Pitts for Christmas, wondering why the fuck it took us so long to get out."

He sounded so hopeful about it. Almost wistful, and I don't think I'd ever heard him wistful about anything before. How could I tell him no? After all that...

"S'a nice dream," I said.

"Not a dream. It's the future. Our future."

And that was pretty much it for me. I never in a million years thought I'd ever hear him talking about "our future" together. Never thought that he'd open himself up this way, make himself so incredibly vulnerable. I thought I'd probably give him anything, do anything he asked and never resent him for it, and if this was all he was asking...how could I say no?

He was right. It was gonna be great in San Francisco, and I was gonna love it. Because we'd be together, living our future.

I fell asleep tangled around him in the sleeping bag, with the stars still dancing above us, and dreamt about everything and nothing. About our future.

Rachel Anton & Laura Blaurosen

Maps and Legends Index
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