I settled back into wakeful existence with the fluttering undulation of a dead leaf, or of a sheet of paper, sidestepping erratically in its journey to the floor. Not one to suffer confusion upon waking, I resumed acknowledgment of my location without pause. Mikey lay still in dormancy next to me, chest exposed, swathed stomach-down by the comforter. With his eyes closed and pink lips slightly parted, his face softened to a faint melancholy that I observed as upsettingly beautiful.
I turned onto my side to face him and realized that part of this action was motivated by the will to assert my presence-as if to say that I am here, another muscled, male human in your bed next to you, the heat from my body uniting with yours, corralled in the tiny space between us, and this is what happens when you invite me to stay. Just in case you hadn't realized what you were up to, then here, behold the outcome of your decision.
My movement caused him to stir and his eyelids blinked open. They slowly closed again and he heaved himself onto his side, now facing me. The inches parting our two faces were in short supply-shorter, I assumed, than he was aware. He said in a small, hazy voice, "As it happens...wait, hold on." Eyes still shut, he began again, "As it happens, there are particular aspects of my life to which I would like to maintain sole and exclusive rights and privileges."
He was quoting. I wracked my brain for that single, complimentary response and quickly dusted it off. "For instance, what?" I asked.
He smiled and his eyes flicked open for the second time, calibrating lazily on my nearby features. If our proximity just now became known to him, he did not show it. "Good morning, Chickadee," he said.
"Morning. Still thinking about the movie, I see."
He laughed hoarsely and lifted himself to a sitting position, staring blankly out toward his dresser. "Did you sleep okay?"
I moved to my back. "I did. What about you?"
"Like a baby. I don't remember a thing."
"Me, neither."
"That's good," he said. "Be right back." He left for the bathroom and I could not help but appraise his backside and he moved away from the bed, inwardly reeling at the way his bulking upper-thigh more than filled the leg of his underwear.
I checked my phone and set it back on the nightstand. It was after nine.
Mikey returned with his phone in hand and said, "I'm going to meet Sophie around eleven at the office. We still have a few things to sort out before the company meeting tomorrow."
I sat up. "No problem. I'll get going."
"Will you at least stay for breakfast?"
"I'd be happy to."
He rattled off some options as we dressed.
"Cereal is just fine," I said. "I don't usually eat much for breakfast."
As we ate Mikey held his spoon in his left hand; with his right he swept across the table, clearing away some invisible detritus from its surface. After repeating this motion several times he looked up at me and said, "If Sophie has a free evening this week, it would be cool if you could meet her. Would you be okay with getting dinner or something?"
"Sure, that sounds fun," I said.
"Awesome." He dropped the spoon into his cereal and seized up his phone. "Let me just look at a few things..." He smiled to himself as he tapped at the screen. "I'm guessing Tuesday will be okay. Six o'clock? Does that work for you?"
"Yeah, that's fine," I told him.
"Okay, awesome. Yeah." He set down his phone. "Fuck, this'll be so cool."
I assured him that I was excited. Privately I was surprised that he'd felt comfortable inviting me in the first place, but I was also more than a little curious to meet a person whom Mikey was so fond of, and who had, I suspected, lent him a great deal of emotional support in the past.
When we were done eating he offered me a ride home but I declined. "I don't want to rely on you in that way," I said. "It's asking too much." I left his apartment contented by the crystallization of this new meeting.
The rest of my day constituted somewhat of a wash, although I was carried on vaguely sore legs to the gym a couple of hours after returning home. Afterward, I proudly consumed leftover fruits of the previous day's incident of rare culinary ambition. Mikey texted later in the evening to inform me that his cousin had confirmed for dinner on Tuesday. I replied to tell him that I looked forward to it.
We did not share a bus the next morning. I fell asleep several minutes into the ride and nearly slept through my stop. Arriving at my desk, an welcome eagerness materialized within me to dive into the pool of documentation lying in wait.
My mom liked to say that a new hollow space in the mouth feels much larger than the tooth that left it behind, and this sentiment came to mind when Calvin was gone from work that morning. I had forgotten that in skipping Friday, I would be missing his last day.
"It's just as well," said Jennifer. "I think he was a little off the whole day. He didn't want anyone making a big thing out of it."
His legacy (as it were) of throwing caution to the wind remained with me, interminably hovering above one shoulder or the other throughout rest of the of the day. I predicted that if this presence persisted through to Friday, my decision would not ascend entirely above its influence.
Upon boarding an unusually full bus after work, I made eye contact with Mikey and he illuminated as I negotiated the aisle back to where he sat.
"Felt like a jerk putting this down here," he said, moving his briefcase from the seat. "Whatever."
"Thanks for saving a spot."
The bus rumbled away from the curb and he said, "I have to drive tomorrow, so come by my apartment in the morning and we'll go together if you want."
"Thanks. That sounds great."
Mikey pulled out his phone and apologized, saying he had a few loose strings to tie up from work.
"You don't have to be sorry for that," I said.
Although I roamed around on my phone as he made a client call, I also secretly listened in, tempted in no small part by his smooth, professional style. He remained involved in his work until our stop arrived, handling another call as we stepped off the bus. We stood together for just a second at the stop. I waved and made to leave for the next, but Mikey reached out and touched my hand. I drew it up to my chest.
"See you in the morning," he said under his breath.
I smiled. "Alright."
Overnight, the outside air covertly disposed of its warmth, which vacated so thoroughly that in the morning I shivered beneath the light coat I'd chosen for the day. Mikey offered to lend me a heavier one as I met him down at the garage, but I refused.
"I'll be fine. The weather just snuck up on me, that's all."
"We'll be eating inside tonight, so don't worry about that."
Once his car had passed beneath the building's low exit and crouched through the dip at the edge of the street, he looked over at me. "Yesterday on the bus-I hate times like that. I really like to keep those calls and stuff inside work hours."
"Well, you weren't home yet. It still kind of counts as being at work, right?"
He relaxed slightly in his seat and his thumb massaged the leather on the steering wheel. "I don't know..." After another minute he said, "I just feel like it's a little too easy for me to lose grip on my schedule." He paused, looked down toward the shifter and then turned up the heat. "After that, work takes over, and then I start to go crazy."
