From my bed on the mezzanine, I saw Mick enter. I just had to push a curtain aside to have a full view on the workshop below. He had always hated our living arrangement. Not like him to live in an artist's studio, and his fine Italian suit said why.
He fell on an old couch, not minding the eventuality of paint having been dropped upon it. I saw more than heard the heavy sigh escape from his mouth. He was in pain, as I was.
Looking up, he saw the huge canvas I had been working on all day. He smiled. Any darkness is followed by sunlight, sooner or later. Art is my sunlight. It comforted me that it comforted Mick at this moment.
There was no telling if he would join me upstairs or not. Nothing would ever be the same. The whirlwind had thrown everything to the ground; there had been no time to pick up the remains of our lives, let alone to decide what would be done with them.
"Mick..."
I thought I had called too faintly, but he heard. His eyes located me at once, behind the curtain, on the bed in the mezzanine.
He smiled again.
"And who is up there, pray tell me?" Mick said, and his voice sounded so tired.
It took me a while to understand that he was not playing a game. He was only acknowledging the truth of the situation. Did we really know each other that well, as we should have?
It had been Jamie who had brought us together. Jamie, the cement of our union. And now, Jamie was gone.
I decided to ignore his question. There would be ample time for this kind of discussion, later on.
"Jamie called from the Vancouver airport." I said. "He says hi. He will call back when he is all settled. His classes begin tomorrow, he will be short on time for a while."
Mick's smile died slowly as he looked around him. At life after Jamie.
"He did say he loved you" I added, unconvincingly straining to make him feel somewhat better.
"He will never come back, you know" Mick said, almost matter-of-factly.
Silence ensued. It hurt me, what Mick had said. That my high-school sweetheart, the man I had seen grow from a boy, the sunshine in my heart, would never be back, not really, that nothing would ever be as before. I had not wanted to hear that.
Mick was now slowly walking up the iron staircase to "my room", a place where I retreated whenever I needed to be totally alone.
This place up here had been open to Mick and Jamie "on open invitation only" and they had never dared to go against the rule – even if it had never been such a serious one in the first place. I had rarely come here to sleep anyway. I had much preferred to sleep with them in the much larger bedroom in the basement.
The simple fact that Mick climbed up those stairs, that night, stressed even more the change in our lives. I got under the impression that he was provoking me. Trying to force me to move on.
After all, it had been almost forty-eight hours since Jamie had left, since Mick and I had started to live as strangers, each in a different part of the building.
Once up there with me, he threw his vest on a chair, and proceeded to undress.
"What do you think you're doing?" I asked nervously.
"I am getting naked. What does it look like?"
Because of our recent loss, I said nothing.
One thing about Mick, he loves sex. He does it well. And, being older, he has much experience in the matter. He always seems to know what it takes to bring you over the edge, and he often laughs triumphantly as he brings you there. And then, he savours his own pleasure in moans and groans and screams of joy. When he comes, he comes loud. He is not repressed, and he does not tire easily.
And... he is simply gorgeous. And I realized it once more as he was crawling towards me on the bed, strong, lovely beast.
Jamie had been sweet. A beautiful thin, pale, delicate, tender lover. I had loved to spend hours in bed with him on weekend mornings.
With Mick, it was different. Exhausting fucking, followed by very deep sleep. And/or fights. Verbal sparring that could last for hours, that no one ever could win.
"I miss him too, you know..." Mick said sadly.
"Why do you tell me that?"
"Two whole days you've been up here. Have you even gone outside?"
I chose not to respond. Indeed, I had not left the studio.
Mick slipped an arm over me, with the obvious intention to cover me with his body... I winced, and moved just so he would understand that I would not let him do it. I still wonder why I was acting that way.
"Ok" he said, raising an eyebrow. "This brings me to the question of the day..."
"Which is?"
"Do you want me to move out?"
A bit irked at not being allowed what I considered a proper mourning period, I nevertheless tried to overcome the situation. I caressed him lightly, but very intently working my way to his crotch. And he was already hard as rock.
