me with a physical force as he holds my gaze. I remember the feeling fondly. That old desire returns.
“Want to sit down and talk?” he suggests as he gently runs his hand through his hair, similar to the way Ethan Hawke has in his many films.
“Um, sure. I’ll meet you at the corner table, like old times.”
I walk to the corner table. The whole way, I’m floating on air just from seeing Mikey and being able to talk to him while he’s sober. I wait for him as he orders from Selena, who quickly winks at me when she sees Mikey headed my way. She silently mouths to me, “He’s so cute!” with her wide-eyed enthusiasm. I mouth back, “I know!” and raise my thick black eyebrows to emphasize the point. As I wait for Mikey, I run my right hand through my gelled curls.
Mikey scoots into his chair and sits across from me. He holds his steaming white mocha latte. He softly blows on the drink and takes a sip. We sit by the window facing a parking lot of SUVs. People run in and out grabbing cups of coffee or tasty desserts. The late afternoon sun holds steady, lighting up the highway and hills in the distance. If I don’t leave soon, it will be too dark for me to hike, but I don’t get many opportunities to hang out with Mikey. I don’t want this moment to fade with the looming sunset.
“So, Tommy, what have you been up to? You look really good. I like the fact that you cut your hair shorter. Those wild curls of yours were getting out of control,” he says, sticking out his tongue and biting down on it, his trademark playfulness surfacing. I have always been amused by Mikey’s expressions. They are windows into his feelings. Right now, he’s quite happy to see me again.
“Thanks. This is more of my clean-cut look. It’s better for work. I represent The Boston Daily wherever I go, and having a brown curly nest for hair didn’t match my professional image when I reported my stories. You like it? I still have some curls on top, but they’re just more tamed.”
“Yes, I like it a lot, my Cubanito.” Mikey uses the same nickname he used for me when we dated and fell in love last year.
“Well, I’m not your Cubanito anymore. Remember? So what’s going on with you? I haven’t seen you at all,” I say, leaning back in my chair. The last time I saw Mikey, he was drunk at Club Café with his boyfriend, Phil the pill. By pill, I mean that the guy always wore a constipated facial expression like he had just taken some Dulcolax. I listen raptly.
“I’m not the same guy you used to know. I’ve been through a lot this past year. For one, I’m sober. I stopped drinking.”
The admission catches me by surprise. Last year, I hoped—I prayed—that Mikey would have said those words, but he wasn’t ready. He just pushed me away when I tried to make him aware of how alcohol was affecting me and most of all, him.
“Mikey, that’s wonderful.” I reach out to touch his right hand, and my fingers quickly graze the top of it. “I’m so proud of you. That couldn’t have been easy. I remember how much you enjoyed drinking. What made you stop?”
Mikey takes a deep breath and continues.
“I crashed my Toyota into a large tree along the side of the road on my way back home to Duxbury one night. A cop found me. I don’t remember much. It’s a blur. The look on my parents’ faces the next morning was enough to sober me up. I almost killed myself. The car was a total wreck.”
“Oh my God, Mikey. You could have died. Do you know how lucky you are?”
I sit back and listen for a few minutes. I don’t interrupt because I know this can’t be easy for him to share.
“I know. They gave me a DUI, but I received a hardship license so I can drive to work and buy groceries. I also have to attend mandatory AA meetings. I go once a week. They’ve been helpful. At first it was hard sitting in these meetings, but I’ve gotten used to it. I share my frustrations about not drinking and my feelings about hurting so many people that I love.”
I take a few sips from my bottled water and process everything Mikey just told me. Mikey is sober and getting help. God answered my prayer.
“Tommy, I wanted to talk to you because I want to apologize for my immature and stupid behavior whenever I got drunk. You always tried to help me and make me see that drinking was slowly killing me. I wasn’t ready to hear it. I’m so sorry for putting you through that hell last year. You didn’t deserve it. You’re a special guy.” He gently grabs my hand and squeezes it in his. His touch sends a rush of tingles throughout my body.
“I just wanted you to get better, that’s all, whether we were together or not. Thank God everything is okay, that you’re okay.”
Mikey and I sit in the corner, our corner of the café, and we carry on a conversation that is easy and casual, like we’re old friends. He tells me about his AA meetings. He recounts how he came out to his parents, who completely accepted him. I always figured they would have since they’re educators. He also tells me how he read one of my stories, a profile on New England’s most popular and cutest soccer player. I’m surprised and flattered that he kept up with my articles. Mikey also tells me about how he ended his relationship with Phil, and that he didn’t really love him.
“I needed to focus on me, so I broke up with Phil. He wasn’t the right guy for me anyway.” Mikey’s eyes are trained on me as he cups his drink with both hands.
“I’m so happy for you. I’m glad you were able to find your way and that you’re healthy. Listen, if you ever need someone to talk to or someone to go with you to an AA meeting, just let me know. I want to support you, as a friend.”
I say friend, but I don’t know if Mikey and I can ever be just friends. But I want to try, for his sake and mine. A friendship could heal our wounds from last year. We always had fun and enjoyed being together. Perhaps we can redefine our relationship into a meaningful friendship.
“Thanks, Tommy. I really appreciate that. I could use a sober friend. Most of my friends still go to bars and drink. I don’t feel comfortable at a bar. It’s not healthy for me. I come here a lot to read magazines and books. I also fill out my progress reports for my students. You can say that Barnes & Noble is my new bar and white mocha lattes are my new drinks.” He smiles.
“You don’t have to go to a bar to have fun. We can meet here at Barnes & Noble and talk whenever you need to,” I offer.
“Thanks. You’ve got a deal! It’s so good talking to you again. You were always a great listener.” I look down, and when I glance back up again, his smile greets me.
“If you call me, I will always listen. I will always be here for you, as long as you are sober,” I say. I take a big sip of my water and I get up. I momentarily take my eyes off Mikey and glance at the softening sun. As I look away, I can feel him looking at me. I really want to go hiking, but I’m enjoying this time with Mikey as well. Maybe it’s time that I get going because I’m nervous, excited, and euphoric just from sitting here with him. Some of my old feelings are resurfacing. A hike right about now might be good for me, to get me grounded.
“I don’t mean to be rude, but I really want to go hiking today before it gets dark.”
“Oh. I don’t want to hold you up. Your hiking sounds like fun.” He seems like he wants to keep talking, so I make a friendly suggestion.
“Well, would you like to come?”
“Um, sure. As long as there aren’t any mountain lions, right?” Mikey says, stretching his arms out to form the cutest human letter “T” I have ever seen.
“You won’t have to worry about the mountain lions if the coyotes get us first,” I joke. “I’ll protect you.”
Mikey laughs.
“What are you going to do if we come across a wild animal, whip out a pen and paper and write a newspaper article?”
“Well, I have my secret powers.”
“Oh yeah, Tommy? Like what?”
“The