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*****
While lurching through my routine the next morning, I tossed around the memory of the kiss with a kind of detached amusement, as if it had been a dream, even laughing it off as I took stock of my morning appearance in the mirror. It really did feel like a dream, and that tiny beach was now a world apart from here. I had been exhausted at the time, without fully realizing it, and remembered very little of preparing for bed once Mikey dropped me off at home.
I thought about work while in the shower, then of my mom, imagining what kind of new occupation she'd be willing to take on, after having toiled for decades in the same place, much longer than I had been alive. She sewed like mad in her free time, read on it and watched videos about it. She had crafted many of her own dresses. I made my way down off the hill to catch the bus (it was a clear, sunny day, and also cold), considering that she must have deliberately avoided paid work as a seamstress for one reason or another.
It took Mikey's absence on the second bus to force me into acceptance. It wasn't that I didn't want to remember. I think it was the smell of him, his quick, hot breaths and the light sweetness in the taste of his mouth, most of all, that pulled acutely at me. Thinking of these things made me ache with compulsion to feel it all over again, the roughness of his face, his tongue testing mine, his dark features closer to me than they had ever been. There was also the way he stood barely over me, so that I had to angle my head back just slightly to meet him.
But I was easily aware that in remembering so much, in wanting it to happen again, my actions and desires did not line up correctly with the path I had chosen. The circumstances were not convoluted. The factor of risk, to my mind, lay in the potential for one or both of us to be hurt when I left. It struck me as vital at this time to affix my longing to the kiss itself, to his physical body, and not to the boy-in general, to an intimacy that was only sexually charged.
It helped that Mikey wasn't on the bus. I thought back to the nature of his appearances before we had ever spoken; he had always been either present or not, without explanation other than having simply left at a different time than I had and catching a separate bus, or driving. Maybe I could now seek relief in the fact that this aspect seemed not to have changed at all. Even after sharing our first embrace only several hours earlier, he'd made no effort to be here now, to discuss himself or his actions. And he didn't need to be. It worked to preserve whatever small but important disassociation we still shared. I felt that holding on to that would facilitate our parting considerably.
Work that day was consuming and ordinary. I had packed lunch in an effort to save money and stood from my desk only a couple of times as the hours droned on.
"Chickadee," Mikey texted as I departed from the first bus home, "I am so sick. Bad cold or something. I hope I didn't give anything to you last night. I'm sorry. We should hang out when I'm better."
"Maybe I was carrying it from my sister," I replied. "She said she'd been sick. I'll never forgive myself. Do you need anything? I'm nearby."
After walking a half-block my phone buzzed again. "Don't worry. I just need to sleep right now. We'll catch up soon."
As I passed his street I peered down a crowded wall of ancient buildings, making out the white metal railing of his tiny balcony and also the window next to his bed. If he looked out now it would be possible for him to spot me. I hurried on to catch the 40B.
It occurred to me that I would have gladly visited him, completely unconcerned about catching his cold. Absurdly, being sick alongside him seemed entirely pleasant; how fortunate would it be for us to quarantine ourselves from the world as we recovered? How much closer would we become? With my selfishness in check, I quickly acknowledged that Mikey should never have been sick in the first place, and I should be happy to give him the solitude he desired to ride it out.
I contacted Marie at lunch the next day, asking if she had plans after work. "I am on a budget," I added.
Her reply floated in sometime around two. "Darling, do you need a sugar daddy? Come live with me. I can be that for you."
"I don't need that," I texted. "Mostly I just need to talk. Is it rude to invite myself over?"
"Perish the thought. I'll be on the train home around five. Please come."
A few hours later I found her standing underground at the city-center station, blue shoes pressed together, near the edge of the platform.
She reached up and hugged me. "Just got here. I was hoping we would catch the same train."
Soon we were swept up in a tepid and stale wind as three cars came moaning and squealing through the tunnel. When the doors opened Marie hustled through to the gangway, freely pushing her way between passengers. I followed her lead.
"I need to stand, if you don't mind," she said, grabbing ahold of a metal bar at the edge of the rubber corridor.
"I don't mind at all," I said. "I've been sitting all day."
"It's terrible," she said. "The fucking man...making you and me sit all day." She regarded me with terrible concern. "And he's making you move away."
I nodded.
"Oh, Wyatt. Tell me you decided not to go."
"I confirmed with them, on Friday. It's already set in stone. I'm sorry."
She flitted her free hand dismissively. "Please stay with me when you visit home, okay? Don't stay out with your parents. What person ever really needed parents, anyway? Parents are complete bullshit, Wyatt."
I stared at her blankly across the narrow passage, then settled into a quiet, prolonged laugh.
"What?" A broad smile took over. "They are. I'm telling you."
"What's Sloan up to?"
"Same as us, I'm sure. We texted a little yesterday. Working hard for the money. Chasing love."
I cleared my throat a little. "That does sound familiar. And are you having any luck in your pursuit?"
"Pursuit? Of love, you mean? Not at all. There's nothing. No sex, either, which might be the bigger tragedy of my life at the moment."
"You and Anthony are finished forever?"
"Forever. We haven't said a word to each other. Not even a text."
"And that's the way you want it, right?"
She looked at me intensely for a second and then said, "Almost all of the time, yes."
I nodded to indicate that I understood.
"It's not him that I miss," she said. "It's just...you know. I'm not totally built to be alone. I wish I was. I'm sure you understand."
"I think I said something very similar to you when we were still in school."
"You did," she said. "It stuck with me. That's not to say I am unhappy right now. I'm really feeling quite fulfilled, for the most part. Food is my intimate companion. That and looking forward to travel."
I smiled. "If I had to, I could be alone for the rest of my life, as long as I travelled the world and ate good food."
"Now you're getting it," she said.
Such was the topic of discussion for the remainder of the train ride, and even until after we had entered her condo. Together we laid down an intricate, imaginary brickwork of plans pertaining to our activities when visiting certain countries. There were, for example, particular vietnamese dishes we would be seeking out. Eventually we acknowledged that the discussion was all but invalid without Sloan's input.
"It's not fair to him," said Marie. "We have to stop. Put your coat in here." She pointed through her bedroom doorway, toward her bed. "I hate it when you wear it around like you aren't staying long. Here, give it to me." She reached up and lifted it off of my shoulders. "I should be checking to see if there's any black hair stuck to this," she muttered, laying it on her bed. "What the hell is happening with Thai Guy?"
"With Mikey."
"Right. What the hell is happening with Mikey?"
As she went over to make us drinks I let her in on a few basic developments, mostly to do with his own self-discovery.
"It's a good sign that he's willing to take such an honest look at himself," she said. "That kind of thing is never as common as you hope."
She set my glass in front of me and I thanked her. "Seriously," I said, "he's got to be one of the most genuine and interesting people I've ever met."
