by C. Kennedy
“I know, agapiméne mou, I know. It’s the worst kind of broken heart.”
MICHAEL WOKE on Sunday morning to the sound of Madonna’s “Vogue.” It was the ringtone on his phone for Sophia. He didn’t want to speak to her and let it ring. It stopped and began again. He ignored it, rose from the bed, and headed to the bathroom.
He splashed cool water on his face and looked in the mirror. Drops ran down his skin, and he traced them with a fingertip before putting his hand flat on the glass as if in some subconscious effort to hide his face. He couldn’t remember ever having cried so much. Or so hard.
“Michael?”
Michael closed his eyes at the sound of his mom’s voice. Why wouldn’t people leave him alone?
“Michael? Sophia is on the phone. I think you’ll want to hear what she has to say.”
Michael sighed and opened the bathroom door. His mom stood there with the phone in her hand. He took it from her and sat on the end of the bed.
“What’s up, Sophia?”
“You son of a bitch!” she shrieked in his ear.
He hung up and handed the phone back to his mom.
“What did she say?”
“She called me a son of a bitch.”
The phone rang again, and Bobbie answered it. “Hang on.” She covered the mouthpiece with her palm. “It’s Jake.”
In his half-awake state, his face was unable to express the incredulity he felt. “He’s calling me from his bedroom? He’s in the other room. Tell him I’ll talk to him later.”
“I think you need to hear this now, Michael.” She held the phone out to him.
He took it from her again. “Yeah, Jake?”
“You blew it big time, bro,” Jake said calmly.
“What are you talking about?”
“What you saw on Christy’s sheets was Christy’s mess from dreaming about you.”
Michael rubbed his eyes as myriad thoughts bounced off the walls of his mind. “They came out of the bathroom together, Jake.”
“Christy has been working with Thimi to bathe.”
“Didn’t look like that.”
“I don’t care what it looked like. That’s all you saw!”
“Don’t yell at me. I can’t take it right now.”
Jake sighed. “I’m going to tell you what happened, and I want you to pay real close attention.”
Michael was too weary to argue with him. “Go for it.”
“When you asked Christy if he slept with Thimi, what do you think went through his mind?”
He rubbed his eyes with thumb and forefinger. “No idea.”
“What does Christy think of himself?”
Michael frowned and didn’t know where Jake was going with this conversation. “I don’t know.”
“You do too! What do I have to do, connect the dots for you?”
“Yeah, Jake. I’m stupid.”
“What did Christy call himself when he was at the top of the Ferris wheel?”
Christy’s words from that horrible night drifted back to him from some faraway place in his mind. “I am the filthy animal. Filthy, filthy, filthy whore.”
Before Michael could say anything, Jake continued. “You know he was forced to have sex with a lot of people. Hundreds, maybe, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Those bastards did all kinds of sick shit with kids, and Thimi was probably one of the people Christy had to have sex with, right?”
Michael cringed. “Yeah.”
“So when you asked Christy if he had sex with Thimi, what was he supposed to say? How was he supposed to answer you?”
“I didn’t mean in the past. I meant that night.”
“He didn’t know that.”
Michael squeezed his eyes shut. “Shit.”
“Yeah, shit! It gets worse. Christy was afraid you wouldn’t want him anymore after you found out what happened when Yosef kidnapped him, right?”
Michael’s heart clenched. “Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Because he thought I would think he was, I don’t know, ruined, or dirty.”
“Filthy whore, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you hearing me, bro? Are you putting it together yet?”
“No.”
Jake sighed long and loud. “In Christy’s mind, you did two things you promised you would never do. Judge him by his past, and leave him because of what Yosef did to him.”
Michael felt faint, disconnected. As if he’d reached some otherworldly state of entropy. “I didn’t do that.”
“What did you do, Michael?”
“I…. Shit.”
“Yeah, now I think you’re hearing me. You made an assumption, and when you did that, you reaffirmed Christy’s poor self-image. You dumped him because of his past and what Yosef did to him and, worse yet, showed him you don’t trust him. Smooth, bro. Very smooth.”
“I didn’t—”
“Yes, you did.”
“No, I didn’t! I made a mistake!”
“Oh. Well, Christy doesn’t know that. Maybe you should tell him.”
“Fuck. I’ll call you back.”
“One more thing. What did Rob tell you about Christy’s ability to defend himself?”
“He said Christy wouldn’t be able to do it. But he meant physically, if someone came after him.”
“You sure that’s all Rob meant?”
Michael hung up, handed the phone back to his mom, grabbed his cell phone, and left the room.
“Where are you going?”
“To talk to Christy.” He called Christy, and it went to voice mail. He hung up and called Rob.
“Hi, Michael.”
“I need to speak to Christy, Rob. It can’t wait.” Rob was silent for a long moment, and Michael thought he’d lost the call. “Rob?”
“He isn’t here.”
“Where is he?”
“He’s on his way to Greece with Thimi, Dr. Jordanou, and General Sotíras.”
Michael stopped midstride, and his mind froze along with his steps. He fought to formulate words. To put them in order. To make them leave his mouth. “When did he leave?”
“About fifteen minutes ago.”
Michael pocketed the phone, trotted down the front steps, and raced toward the car. The sound of a Harley filled his ears, and his anger soared. The last thing he needed right now was to deal with assholes.
A motorcycle came alongside Jake’s front gates. It was Lisa. She skidded to a stop in front of him and lifted the face shield of her helmet.
“What are you doing here?”
“Get any more ugly rude, Mike, and I’ll hurt you for reals. Jake called me. Let’s talk.”
“Not now, Lisa,” he said quickly.
She reached back for a second helmet and held it up. “Get your ass over here, put it on, and get on the bike. Don’t argue with me.”
“I need to talk to Christy.”
“That’s where we’re going. Get on the damn bike!”
“No thanks,” Michael said as he tried to open the door to the security vehicle where Tad waited in the driver’s seat.
“There’s traffic! You won’t be splitting lanes in a car. Now get on the damn bike!”
The gates to the driveway began to open, and Tad smirked at him through the car window.
Michael swore, jogged to Lisa, and took the helmet from her hand.
“Glad you’re thinkin’ now, Mike!”
He donned the helmet and climbed onto the back of the bike, something he thought he’d never do in this lifetime.
“Keep your hands and arms inside the vehicle at all times!” Lisa shouted as she dropped her face shield. “Put your arms around my waist and hold on!”
Lisa’s voice came through the headset in Michael’s helmet. “We can talk to each other?”
“Yep. Hold on!” She revved the bike and took off.
Though Michael thought he had a good grip around her waist, the bike’s sudden leap forward caused
his back to hit the sissy bar. He held on tighter.
“We can talk to any rider we’re paired with. Like right now. Gav!”
Gav’s voice filled Michael’s helmet. “At the 5 and 90 cross. No sign of ’em yet. I got the signs ready.”
“I got Mike. See you in ten.”
Lisa sped down Southside Road toward Mohawk, and Michael held on for dear life. He’d never been on a bike before, and some of Lisa’s turns definitely made him think twice about doing it again.
“Got ’em—90 at exit 30!” Gav’s voice came through the helmets.
Now Lisa’s voice filled Michael’s helmet. “Coming up on you. Where are the others?”
“Exit 29.”
Lisa slowed as they approached Gav who was sitting on his bike near the guardrail on exit 30. She came to a stop next to him, and he held a bag out to Michael.
“What’s that?”
“Signs. They’re numbered on the back. Use ’em in that order.”
“What do they say?”
“No time for questions, Mike! Let’s do it!” Lisa shouted.
She took off, and Michael grabbed for her waist.
Lisa and Gavin rode in tandem as they sped down highway 90 toward exit 29. All Michael could do was hold on to the bag of signs and Lisa, and thank God the road was flat. Sharp turns and dips were definitely not his gig.
“Lisa, I’m on their six. Can’t see inside the car, but I’m going to begin slowing them down” came Smitty’s voice over the headset.
“What side of the car does Christy like, Mike?” she asked.
“Doesn’t matter so long as he’s facing forward. He gets sick if he’s facing backward.”
Lisa sped forward, and Michael was shocked as the largest group of motorcycles he’d ever seen came into view.
“Coming up on your right, Smitty!” she announced.
“Coming up left,” Gav said.
“Do it, Uncle Smitty!” Lisa shouted.
A plethora of motorcycles sped around the limousine. Some came to position in front of it, some drove alongside it, and they succeeded in slowing it to a near crawl in the slow lane.
A tidal wave of worry flowed over Michael. “That’s going to scare Christy, Lisa!”
“We’ll fix that!” She sped forward until she was even with the right rear door of the car and held steady until Gavin was even with the left rear door.
“Go for it, Gavin!” she shouted.
He partially unzipped his jacket, withdrew a sign, and held it so the passengers in the limousine could read it. It said: Look out the other side of the car!
Lisa withdrew a sign of her own from her jacket and held it so the passengers could read it. It had an arrow pointing up with her name printed at the end of it, and another arrow pointing left with Michael’s name printed at the end of it. “Your turn next, Mike! Start with sign number one.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
CHRISTY RESTED his head against the headrest, his eyes closed. He was numb. His entire life had folded in on him.
“Christophoros?”
“Hmm?” he answered Thimi without opening his eyes.
“There is a sign for you.”
Christy opened his eyes to Thimi, who looked… not afraid, but surprised.
“What do you mean to say?”
Thimi pointed out the window.
Christy was immediately alarmed when he saw the motorcycles, but his panic quelled when the big white sign caught his eye—Look out the other side of the car! The rider pointed emphatically.
Christy turned to the other window, saw the arrows, and read: Lisa, and then: Michael. “What is this?”
General Sotíras chuckled. “It would appear that Michael has something to say to you.” He pointed out the window.
Christy looked out again and read the sign that Michael now held: I am an ass! His jaw dropped. “My God,” he said softly.
“What does it say?” Thimi asked.
Christy translated, and Dr. Jordanou began to laugh. General Sotíras smiled wide. “Most certainly on point.”
“Succinct,” Dr. Jordanou agreed.
The next sign appeared: I’m sorry!
The next sign appeared: I screwed up!
Sotíras gave Dr. Jordanou an approving nod. “The vocabulary of literature majors always impresses me.”
Dr. Jordanou agreed. “They have an astute ability to say exactly what they mean.”
“What does it say? What does it say?” Thimi asked.
“I made a mistake,” Christy translated.
The next sign appeared: Please forgive me! and *begging* appeared beneath the sentence.
“Very articulate,” Dr. Jordanou complimented.
General Sotíras gave an exaggerated nod. “Rare. I’m always impressed when a man grovels.”
Christy glanced at the general before translating for Thimi.
The next sign appeared: I love you!
“This is an excellent sign,” General Sotíras teased.
“Quite portentous. Best omen I have ever seen,” Dr. Jordanou agreed.
“What does it say?” Thimi demanded.
Before Christy could reply, the next sign appeared with two sentences on it: Please don’t leave! I’ll die without you!
“Oh, very unique,” Dr. Jordanou complimented.
“Exquisite,” the general agreed.
Christy leaned back against the seat and rubbed his face with his hands. “I do not believe this.”
The next sign appeared. It was I love you again.
“What do you want to do, Christy?” General Sotíras asked.
Michael began the signs from the beginning again, and Christy had no idea what to do. Here he was, speeding down an American highway with his ex-boyfriend holding a sign professing that he was an ass. What was he supposed to do? He looked at General Sotíras and then at Dr. Jordanou.
“You could ignore the signs,” Dr. Jordanou offered.
“No!” Thimi whispered fiercely.
“You could write a sign of your own,” Sotíras suggested with a grin.
Christy was immediately indignant. “We are in the middle of the road! I will not!”
“Yes! Yes!” Thimi whispered insistently.
Dr. Jordanou released a sigh in melancholy. “I remember when I was young and in love. It was the most wonderful feeling in the world.”
“I, too, remember. Full of youth, my entire life ahead of me, and someone to share it with. They were fabulous times,” Sotíras agreed.
“Oh, they were splendid,” Dr. Jordanou confirmed. “Full of frustration, fraught with confusion, but nothing more magnificent. Even now, when all that is left is but to read about it, I’m sad when a romance story comes to an end. I swear to myself I will never read another. Yet, before I know it, I have another book in my hands and find myself enthralled once again.”
“There is an indescribable need that draws us to love. We can’t live without it,” Sotíras said with a forlorn sigh. “We are old, Theo. What is left for us but to find love between the pages of a book?”
Dr. Jordanou’s face softened. “There is always hope, Nicos. Always. One day we will find love again.”
Christy gaped at them right before he swore a blue streak in Greek. “Entáxei! Entáxei!” He reached across the expanse of the car and rapped loudly on the privacy window. Before it made its way down, he yelled, “Take the car from the road!”
The limousine pulled off the highway and traveled to a small wooded park. The motorcycles followed for some distance, but only Lisa’s bike followed the car onto the wooded grounds. She parked the bike a hundred feet from the limousine and removed her helmet. “Last chance, Mike. Go get him back.”
Michael removed his helmet, now feeling more unsure of himself than he’d ever felt in his life. He watched Christy step from the car. His steps were stilted, each one seeming to be a forced effort, and he looked entirely spent, more exhausted than Michael had ever seen him.
Lisa seemed to read h
is mind. “You won’t screw it up because that boy means the world to you. Go do what it takes.” She pushed him forward. “Time’s awastin’.”
Michael walked toward Christy, and his heart twisted. He’d so fucked up and didn’t know if he could fix it. Christy began to walk toward him, and hope fluttered in his heart like a trapped butterfly.
Christy stopped, and Michael stopped ten feet in front of him. Tears welled, and he tried to sniff them back. “I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”
Christy suddenly ran, jumped into his arms, and hugged him in his tightest too-tight hug yet. Michael let the tears fall. “I love you,” he wept into Christy’s thick curls.
“I would never do this, Michael,” Christy said through a sob of his own.
“I know, I know. I don’t know what I was thinking. It’s my fault. Please don’t leave. Please give me a chance to make it right. I’m begging you. Please give me a chance to fix this.”
Christy wept softly against his shoulder. “I cannot….”
Michael’s heart nearly stopped beating, and he held Christy tighter. “Please. I can’t lose you.”
“I cannot do the breakup again.”
Michael pulled back and looked at him. “We will never break up again. I promise. I promise!” He hugged Christy again. “I swear it, Christy. I swear it.”
EPILOGUE
“MARK!”
Michael looked at the crowd, bounced on his toes in the blocks, and thought about his number-one fan in the stands. Christy was the epitome of everything good and right, kind and pure of heart. Michael would not fail him ever again. He would do whatever it took to make things right. He would do whatever it took to keep Christy’s hope alive.
“Set!”
Old determination permeated Michael’s veins, and his senses came alive. He raised his hips and squeezed his eyes shut. Christy’s hope. That’s all that matters.
The gun fired, and he exploded out of the blocks and was over the first hurdle before he knew it. Fueled by sheer determination, he kept going. He skimmed the last hurdle, knowing it was a mistake and he wouldn’t make the Olympic team, but he didn’t care. He crossed the finish line, and came around to listen to the scores. He’d tied in third place, and that was good enough. The crowd cheered, and Christy ran onto the track. He lifted Christy into his arms, spun him around, and then saw distress on his face. “What’s wrong?”