Go West Young Man

by Robbie Michaels

  All too quickly my favorite class was finished and I headed over to the Student Union to meet up with my calculus study group. The class we were all taking was good but a lot of work. We were all finding we needed to rehash everything to get a really good grasp of the subject and to be able to apply it to real-world applications.

  Since I was the first one there, I grabbed a table big enough to hold all of us, dropped my stuff, and got set up. When some of the others arrived I went off to the food line and bought a piece of pizza and a bottle of water. It turned out to be really lousy pizza. I couldn’t decide whether it was just badly made or had been made too many days earlier. In the end, though, it was irrelevant—it was just bad. But I was hungry, and I needed to eat something so I ate it.

  Earlier, when talking with Bill, I had predicted that Study Group would wrap up at about nine, and it turned out that I was pretty much on the mark—we wrapped up at 9:02 that evening. We were all tired and we had made some significant progress, so we were all happy.

  Heading back to the car I couldn’t figure out why I felt so tired, but then I reviewed my day and realized: well, duh! You got up at six, worked a full eight-hour shift, came over, sat through two intense classes, and then did a three-hour study group. It’s no wonder you’re tired, Einstein!

  When I finally got to my car I was having one of those moments when I wished that there was a magic button I could push and instantly be home. I was so tired. But I didn’t have such a button, so I started the car and headed home. Fortunately, traffic wasn’t too terrible, and I was home just about when I expected to be there.

  Walking up to my door, I was mildly surprised that there were no lights on inside or out. Usually the one of us who was home left the porch light on for the other one, and we usually had lights on inside somewhere. It wasn’t that late. I couldn’t imagine that Bill had gone to bed already. I hoped he hadn’t had a relapse and gotten sick again. I didn’t even know if a relapse of his condition was possible, but it was one of the many scenarios that played through my mind in the thirty seconds it took me to get my key in the lock and unlock the door.

  I got some lights on inside, dropped my backpack, and walked through the apartment looking for Bill. Not in the living room, not in the kitchen, not in the bathroom… and not in the bedroom. Okay. Where the hell was he? I checked around for a note that might explain where he had gone. No note. So the place was empty, there was nothing scheduled, and he had not left a note. Okay.

  I checked my cell phone to see if I had gotten any calls or messages without realizing it, but there were no messages and I had not missed any calls. The mystery deepened, and not at all in an entertaining way. No, definitely not entertaining in the slightest.

  But at the moment there wasn’t a thing I could do about his absence. Plus, the pizza at school had been such crap that I was oddly still hungry. To take my mind off my worry and to take care of my hunger, I had a piece of toast. That one tasted so good that I had another. Still no Bill. I vacillated between worry and anger, which is pretty much where I’d been with him all the time for the last few months.

  I never thought I would say such a thing, but a part of me longed for the simpler high school days where life wasn’t so complicated. At least my boyfriend was always in bed with me every night, and I got to have sex with him occasionally, even though my parents weren’t that far away. For all of the drawbacks that those days had, they had a lot of redeeming features as well. Even with the forced coming out and all of the baggage that came with that.

  Not knowing what else to do, even though it was about the last thing in the world that I wanted to do, I got out a textbook and started reading an assigned portion for the next class. Sometime later, who knows how long, I found myself falling asleep sitting up at the table, so I gave up on getting anything done. I got ready and crawled into bed, wondering for about the millionth time where Bill was, worrying that he could be hurt somewhere. I fell asleep with those thoughts running through my mind.

  Chapter 39

  No One Home

  THOSE thoughts were still running through my mind when I woke up the next morning. Looking around, hoping that I would spot him in bed beside me, I found that I was as alone as I had been when I fell asleep the previous night. After pulling on some sweatpants, I went into the living room hoping to find him there, but again the room was empty and my hopes were dashed.

  I wanted to call the police but didn’t know if they would be able to help. After all, this might just be a lovers’ quarrel, or spat, whatever that meant. Hell, I didn’t know what was going on. As had been true for much of the last few months, I was teetering on the edge of pissed off and worried, constantly swinging just a little bit one way or the other.

  Checking my watch, I realized that I didn’t have the luxury of time to sort this out—I had to get to work. I jumped in the shower and then threw on some clothes so I could dash out the door and drive to work. Once again I was on the 7:00 a.m. shift, which was really not a good place to put someone who was not a fan of mornings. But that’s where I was assigned, so that’s when I worked.

  It was a Saturday, which was always a busy day but in a pattern that was different than a typical weekday workday. On weekdays we had a rush that started early and continued as wave after wave of different types of people came in. Some people stopped on their way into their offices, while others came in after they’d been to their offices, checked their e-mail, and decided that the world was safe for them to run out and grab some caffeine.

  Our weekends, on the other hand, started slower. After all, who in their right mind would get up at such an early hour on a Saturday if they didn’t have to? As a result, on Saturday we opened with fewer people. That meant that there were only two of us to do the usual prep work that would normally be accomplished by more hands. So, even though our clientele was more limited first thing on a Saturday, we had plenty to do to keep ourselves busy. Everything that had to be set up on a regular day still had to be set up on Saturday and Sunday.

  So my morning was busy, which was good because I didn’t need to have lots of time to stand around and worry—or get pissed. From hour to hour I vacillated back and forth between the two emotions, finally simply settling into pissed off. Apparently I was exuding so much hostility and pissed-off-ness (is that even a word?) that I was taken away from the front register where I usually worked. Usually I was a reliable smile that was good for the tip jar, but today I was sort of the inverse of welcoming. I worked out the remainder of my shift doing other things.

  Since I was busy behind the scenes, I didn’t see what happened about ten minutes before my shift ended. But, even though I couldn’t see, I still knew something was happening because the entire shop went silent—and then a bunch of whispered conversations started almost immediately. A man appeared at the counter and asked, “Is Mark here?”

  “Hello, Derrick,” I said, standing. “What brings you to our humble establishment?”

  “I have something of yours that I’d like to return to you.”

  I didn’t know what he was talking about, which should have been clear from the look of confusion on my face. He motioned for me to join him outside, which I did. We walked out together, with every head in the place turning to follow us. I had forgotten about the last time he had dropped in while I worked—much the same reaction.

  We walked to Derrick’s car, where I saw my boyfriend asleep.

  “Passed out,” Derrick clarified for me.

  “Care to fill me in?” I asked while crossing my arms across my chest.

  “Simple, really. He came over yesterday, got smashed—this boy can’t hold his liquor very well—and then passed out. I’m leaving to go out of town, so I couldn’t leave him at my place.”

  “What if I don’t want him?”

  “Tough. He’s yours. I’ve done my babysitting duty.”

  “Me too.”

  “What’s going on between the two of you, anyway?” he asked, mirroring my posture.


  I sighed.

  “We’re just out of sync on everything. When I’m awake, he’s asleep, and when I’m asleep, he’s awake. I have to work like a dog, and he has nothing to do but lounge around the house, never bothering to do a damned thing to help me! He doesn’t do laundry. He doesn’t change the sheets. He doesn’t wash the towels. I don’t think he’s done anything but sit since he got out of the hospital. And then there’s the debt.”

  “What debt?” he asked.

  “All the bills that keep pouring in from the hospital and doctors and a thousand other people I’ve never heard of before. By my last count we’re just shy of $200,000 that they’re demanding. And just so you know, I don’t have $200,000, and at my hourly rate it probably is going to take me a while to get there.”

  “Wait! Wait! Wait! I thought the studio was supposed to help out with the bills?”

  “They haven’t. I sent them a happy, healthy boyfriend. They sent me back a sick, out-of-shape lump. And we still haven’t had sex since last year!”

  “Why not?” he asked in disbelief.

  “Remember the ‘I’m awake, he’s asleep’ thing? Sex sort of requires that we both be conscious at the same time.”

  “Well, not always,” he started to joke. I simply waved my hand to cut him off. I didn’t want to hear it.

  “I’m in no mood,” I said simply. “Now what the hell am I supposed to do with him?”

  “That’s entirely up to you. All I know is that I’m heading out of town and I can’t take him with me.”

  I sighed. “Give me a minute to go clock out and then I’ll be right back.”

  Inside the shop there were still dozens of sets of eyes monitoring Derrick, and since I had been with him, me as well. Those sets of eyes all turned and followed me as I came back inside. In less than a minute I was finished and back out the door. Derrick pulled his car around next to mine, and together we moved Bill from the small sports car up into the bigger SUV.

  He gave me a quick hug. “I’ve got to run, but I promise I’ll call the studio on Monday to remind them that they were going to help out with the medical expenses. And if they don’t remember, I’ll haul out the big guns.”

  “The big guns?”

  “Moira.”

  “Yea, I guess she qualifies as ‘big guns’.”

  Derrick drove away, and I followed right behind him but headed the other direction. When I got home, I didn’t have the slightest clue how I should go about moving Bill from the car into the house. At a complete loss, in the end I simply left him there to sleep it off. I figured that when he roused from his stupor he’d get himself inside under his own power.

  Chapter 40

  Hangover

  I HAD things I needed to do, so I couldn’t waste my time worrying about my boyfriend. I was rapidly coming to see that his problems were larger than I was capable of handling. As I sat at the table trying to write the last bits of the code for my program, I realized that I was too distracted to work. With finals just around the corner, that was absolutely the last place that I needed to be.

  Hoping to snap myself out of my funk and then maybe get some work done, I changed into my running clothes and headed out to run for a while in the hopes that would clear my head and make me more able to focus and to think. Plugging the earbud headphones into my ears, I turned the music up loud, stretched, and then started my run.

  And run I did—for eight miles, nine miles, ten miles. By that point I had been running regularly enough that I had developed several route options, several routes of different mileage durations. That way I knew how long I would be running, but also had some variety so that I wasn’t always looking at the same scenery.

  When I finally got back home that day I noticed that the car was empty, so apparently my boyfriend had roused himself from his stupor. Heading into the apartment, I went directly into the bathroom to shower. Bill was in the bathroom, sitting on the floor, looking exceptionally green. I couldn’t deal with him right then, so I ignored him, turned on the shower, and climbed in to wash off the sweat from my run.

  Refreshed from my shower, I toweled off, noticing that Bill hadn’t moved. I’d been there once myself, so I knew that there was nothing I could do to help him at this point. I headed into the bedroom, turning off the bathroom light, assuming that the light would be another irritant for him in his present condition.

  Slipping into something soft and fuzzy and warm and comforting, I grabbed my laptop computer and headed outside to the pool area to get some work done. I had been right to take the break to run. The run had cleared my head and let me focus on my coding work. With an hour of work, I was able to finish my class project.

  The big test came when I tried to execute my code. And yes! It worked! It even produced the results that I expected, which was even better. Having code that worked is one thing. Having code that worked and gave you the anticipated result was an entirely different matter.

  Even though I saved my work obsessively, I saved it again now that I had a working model. Not taking any chances, I also backed up my files to a server in the cloud so that if anything happened to my laptop, my work would not all be lost.

  Since I had allotted far more time to this task than it ended up taking, I decided to start on a paper I had to write for another class. I had done all of the background reading and, as with the computer program, had it all outlined in my head. Opening up my word processing program, I thought for a minute, trying to find exactly the right words to start with.

  And then the words appeared in my head. And I smiled because they were perfect. My fingers started flying across the keys of my laptop. My opening sentence logically led into another sentence, and then another. Those sentences tied into another paragraph, which led into another. Before I knew it, I had written two pages. Maybe this wasn’t going to be such a bad day after all, I thought to myself as I obsessively saved my work.

  But before I could write another word on page three, I noticed movement from toward the apartment. I sat and silently watched Bill walk slowly out of the apartment and move carefully toward where I sat at the table. I stayed silent, simply watching him as he moved into a chair across the table from me.

  He kept looking at me, but when I didn’t say anything, only stared at him with a neutral expression on my face, he said, “How did I get back here? Did I drive?”

  I remained silent for a moment, studying him. “I’ll answer your last question first. No, you did not drive. I brought you home after Derrick dumped your drunken ass on me at work. He helped me get you loaded into the car, but when I got here there was no one to help me so I left you where you were. I couldn’t lift you on my own.”

  “Thanks.” I stared at him for a few additional minutes, which apparently was making him feel uncomfortable. “Mark, why are you staring at me so intently?”

  I sighed and decided that if he wanted to know then I was going to tell him. “Bill, you know that I love you with every fiber of my being.” I paused to organize my thoughts. “But I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep having you disappear for days on end with no word of where you’ve gone. You left me here not knowing if you were dead or alive. You left me here with not one single word about what was going on in your head.

  “Well, I have a revelation for you: I’m not a mind reader. I cannot simply look at you and know what you’re thinking or what you’re feeling. I need you to speak words to me to explain things to me.

  “I’m truly sorry about the mess that you’ve had to contend with these last few months. Trust me, it’s been no walk in the park for me either.”

  “But?” he said.

  “I can’t keep doing this. If this is going to be the way it goes, then I think you need to go somewhere else to do it.”

  “What are you saying?” he asked, his voice somewhat shaky.

  It was time for my equivalent of shock therapy for Bill. “I’m saying that if this is the way you intend to continue, then I think you need to move out. You�
��re dragging me down, Bill. You’re distracting me from school. I’m paying a boatload of money to get an education—an education that I thought you wanted as well. Just because you are crashing and burning does not mean that I’m going to crash and burn with you. I will help you in any way I can, but your timing sucks! Class projects and papers are due in a few days. Finals are next week. I cannot afford to have spent all this money, all this time, only to blow it in the home stretch. You are a distraction I cannot afford.

  “As I told you earlier, I love you deeply. It is killing me that you don’t seem to love yourself anymore. And there is nothing I can do about that. That is something you have to work out on your own. And you need to go somewhere else to do it.”

  “You’re asking me to move out?”

  “If this is the way things are going to go, then I want you to move out. And the sooner the better. It will absolutely break my heart and rip me apart inside once again, but I’ve already been through this twice now. And I will not go through this a third time.”

  Bill looked miserable. I wanted to comfort him, but I stayed still. He needed to see that these were desperate circumstances and that he had to make a decision. I dearly hoped that he was getting the message that we couldn’t go on. He was weeping across the table from me. I fought down every instinct in my body and remained in my chair.

  “Mark!” he cried. “Please! Please don’t leave me! I need you!”

  “You have a most unusual way of showing that,” I said quietly.

  “I’m so sorry! I screwed up so badly! My entire life has been such a total train wreck since last December. I cannot tell you how much I wish I had never gone to Australia. My place wasn’t there. It was here with you. I love you!” he cried some more. I sat still and let him. I needed to see where he was going.

  “Bill, I love you. I will always love you. But I’m carrying a huge burden all by myself and have been for too long. I’m getting worn out. I’m tired. I need a break. I’ve needed you to help pick up some of the load and help me before the weight crushes me. But you’ve not done that. You’ve only added to the weight I’ve got on my back already. I love you, but I’ve got to survive, and I can’t do that with you like this. If this is what you’re going to be doing, then you need to go inside now, pack your stuff, and get out.”