How We Love

by Michael Ryan Webb

  I kissed him again, knowing right then that I never wanted to let him go.

  The rest of February passed by mostly uneventfully. But during the last week of the month, I was assigned to a pro bono case my firm had taken on to try to appear more philanthropic. The young man I would be representing, Bailey Hodges, was charged with attempted aggravated robbery for walking into a stranger's home and pulling a knife when they tried to confront him.

  According to the arresting officers, he seemed to have no idea what was happening, and believed that the house was where he lived. He had been released on bail, but the assistant district attorney had been on a rampage and was not in a hurry to back down on any of his cases. So my firm took over the case for the overworked public defender that the court had assigned it to. I asked Mitch to set up a meeting with Bailey, but the address and phone number the police had provided us with turned out to be no good.

  Mitch worked hard to track him down, but it still took over a week for us to discover that he was actually homeless. Mitch also found out that the house Bailey had broken into was one he had lived in as a child, and that he had been in and out of a mental health institution since he was 12 years old. When he'd turned 18 a couple of years before this incident, his parents had just taken off and left him behind.

  It took a few days, but I tracked Bailey down at a homeless kitchen on the outskirts of town. He was in almost as bad condition as the facility itself. The building was in terrible disarray, with cracks in the walls and broken windows throughout, leaving the biting winter air to fill every room. The food they were being served looked worse than what he'd be eating if I couldn't spare him jail time.

  Bailey was wearing a torn t-shirt with a thin jacket over it. He was covered in dirt and talking to himself. There was something familiar about him that I couldn't quite put my finger on. As I approached, I noticed something that broke my heart. He was counting his fingers.

  He's crazy like you, you psychotic bastard.

  He's not crazy. Neither am I. He just needs help, I thought to myself.

  "Mr. Hodges? I'm Mark Diaz. I'm your attorney," I said, extending a hand to him. He looked me over and then closed his eyes and continued counting his fingers.

  "1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10," he whispered. I had no idea what to do. It was like my brain was misfiring. I kept thinking of half ideas and then losing them. Finally, I remembered how Grayson had helped me on the day we met.

  "So, my boyfriend has this really adorable dog," I said, sitting next to him. "When I first met them she was this tiny little poof ball. But now she's like a miniature horse, I swear. She's so big. Anyway, she does this really goofy thing when we get ready for bed at night where she has to prep her spot on the bed like she's out in the wild or something. She just walks around in a circle over and over until she decides it ready and then just throws herself down. The she howls, like legitimate howls, until we both give her a goodnight kiss on the top of her head. Do you want to see a picture of her?"

  He nodded and I showed him a few pictures of Dolly with some kids who were playing with her at the diner. He smiled weakly. He clicked to the home screen of the phone and started playing the first game he found. I almost protested, but thought better of it. If it distracted him and helped him keep in control, I didn't have a problem with it.

  "How about we go get you something a little more filling to eat?" I asked. He nodded emphatically and I helped him gather his things and take them to my car. We went to the Blue Moose Diner and I told him to order anything he wanted while I went to talk to Grayson.

  "Oh my god. He looks like Alex," Grayson said when he saw Bailey. He took a step back and touched his hand to his chest.

  "Oh, man. He does," I said. "I thought something was familiar about him earlier but I couldn't figure it out. I'm sorry Grayson. I can take him somewhere else."

  "No, stay," he said, his face losing color. "He needs help. I'm just going to go lie down for a little bit."

  "Hey, wait." I called after him as he started walking out. "I love you." I pulled him into a tight embrace. "I'll take him somewhere else as soon as he finishes eating. And then I'm going to come sit with you and take care of you. Okay? I love you, Grayson. I'm here for you."

  "I love you too," he said, hanging his head. "I'm sorry. I just... wasn't prepared for that."

  "I understand, sweetheart. I do. I'm so sorry," I replied, kissing his forehead "Get some rest. I'll be there soon."

  He went back to the cottage and I returned to my table.

  "I wasn't going to hurt anybody," Bailey said emphatically between bites of a cheeseburger as I settled into the booth across from him. "I swear. Sometimes I forget." He slapped his head three times in quick succession. "I used to live there, I think. I thought I still did and when that man came at me I got scared. That's all. Honest." He smacked his head again. I wanted to reach out and grab his hands to stop him, but I knew that would only make it worse.

  "I believe you, Bailey. I really do," I said. "Do you ever feel like you aren't entirely in control of what you're thinking or doing? Almost like your brain is a separate person making you do what it wants?"

  He nodded enthusiastically. "All the time. I used to be smart, I think. I used to think about a lot of things. But now I only think about what my brain tells me to think. And it's usually scary stuff. Stuff I don't wanna see, but I can't stop it."

  "Bailey, would you be willing to go to a doctor with me?" I asked.

  "No, no, no. No doctors," he said quickly, smacking his head again. "They'll lock me away again."

  "Hey, hey, Bailey, listen to me," I said, moving around the booth to sit next to him. "Look at me. I'm telling you right now, no matter what else happens, I'm not going to let anybody lock you up anywhere. I'm going to make sure you don't going to jail, and I'm going to get you the help you need to get back control of your brain. This doctor I want to take you to, she helped me. Okay? I used to have trouble making my brain listen to me too. I used to hear a voice telling me horrible things just like you do until she helped me."

  "And now you don't hear the voice anymore?" he asked, his face full of hope.

  "Well, I do sometimes," I admitted. "But I can usually make it go away a lot easier. She can help you learn to do that too. And she can give you medication that will help you manage it while you work on it."

  "But I don't have any money," he said, his face downcast.

  "Don't worry about that," I said. "I'm going to help you, Bailey. I'm not going to let you go back out onto the street sick like this."

  He smiled a crooked smile at me and finished his food, barely pausing for breath between bites. I drove him to Dr. Rodriguez's office and dropped him off. While he was speaking with her, I went back to check on Grayson. He was lying on the sofa crying, so I pulled him into my arms and held him until he stopped.

  He asked me to drive him to the cemetery to visit his brother's grave, so I did. While he visited Alex, I walked over to my father's grave and sat down.

  "Hi, Dad," I said. "I'm sorry it's been a while. It's been quite a year. I guess you know that though. At least, I like to think you're watching, from wherever you are. How self-centered is that, right? To think that you're in some amazing afterlife but you want to spend your time watching me? I just miss you, is all. I try to tell myself that you're always with me. It's sort of the only way I can keep breathing some days.

  "Maybe it's silly, but I feel like I see you all around me. I see you every time I see a father and his child laughing out in town or even on TV. I hear you in all of your favorite songs when they come on the radio. I feel you with me when I'm in the kitchen. I see you in the stars at night, and I swear when the wind blows I can almost hear your voice. Wherever you are, I hope you know that I think about you every single day.

  "So much has happened since you left, and all I want to do is pick up the phone and call you about every little thing, good and bad. And it kills me that I can't. I was thinking the other day about when I was a kid and y
our mom died. I think that might have been the only time I ever saw you cry. And it terrified me. I'd never seen you be anything but strong. But I know now that you were being strong. Because you got right back up and kept going. I know how hard that was for you now, because the grief I feel over losing you is boundless. I feel it in my bones. My soul aches when I let myself think for too long about the fact that you aren't here.

  "And I wasn't as strong as you. Not by a long shot. I gave up for a while there. It took someone special reminding me that you would want me to keep going to get me back on my feet. I like to think you had something to do with him ending up in my life. Like you're still looking out for me. Maybe that's silly too. But either way, I know you'd love him, because he loves me. And he loves me so well. I think I'm going to marry him someday, Dad. I wish you could be here for that. But I know you'll be watching. And I know that you'll live on in the way that I love him back, because you taught me everything I know about how to love."

  Grayson walked up, so I said goodbye to my father. I kissed my hand and touched it to the words, "Thomas Diaz, beloved father."

  "You okay?" I asked, giving him a hug.

  "Yeah," he said, smiling. "I feel a lot better. Thank you for bringing me."

  "Of course," I said. "Anything you need. Forever."

  "Forever?" he said, grinning.

  "Yeah," I said. "If that's okay."

  "Hm, I'll take it under consideration," he said, wrapping one arm around my waist as we walked back to the car.

  I dropped Grayson off at home, then picked up Bailey. I took him to pick up the medication that Dr. Diaz prescribed as well as a few changes of clothes and food. Then I dropped him off at a hotel and paid for a month up front.

  Mitch helped me build my case over the next week, and at the beginning of March, we went before a judge. I argued that Bailey hadn't meant anyone any harm, and that he was not in a healthy state of mind at the time of the incident. I implored the judge to look at Bailey's history to see that he didn't need jail, just proper medical treatment. The ADA did his best to argue to the contrary, but in the end the judge agreed with me.

  Even after only one week of treatment, Bailey was showing marked improvement. When I dropped him off at his hotel, he invited me in so that I could see some sketches he'd drawn. They were beautiful, vivid depictions of people and animals in the park across the street from the hotel.

  "These are wonderful, Bailey," I told him.

  "Take this one," he said, handing me a folded piece of paper. I unfolded it to find a drawing of me, Grayson, and Dolly.

  "How'd you know this was my boyfriend?" I asked, stunned at how detailed it was.

  "I saw the way you looked at him when you took me to lunch," he said matter-of-factly. "You love him. Big time."

  "Yeah, big time," I said, smiling at the picture. "Thank you, Bailey."

  Seeing the progress that Bailey was making gave me an idea. I went straight back to the office. "Mitch, do you trust me?" I asked as I entered in a hurry, digging through a filing cabinet for a contract.

  "Well, I don't really know you that well yet," he said in his deep southern drawl. "But you seem pretty alright. I appreciate the job and everything."

  "Great," I said. "You're fired."

  "What the hell?" he exclaimed. "What did I do?"

  I dropped his employment contract on his desk in front of him and said louder, "It's just not going to work out, Mr. King. Pursuant to your employment agreement, we can pay you for six months of labor. You can stop by HR on your way out to organize payment." I leaned in to whisper to him, "Trust me. This will hold you over, and then I have more work for you. I'll call you in a few weeks." Confused, he wandered down the hall, looking back repeatedly as if he expected me to change my mind.

  But I was setting a plan in motion. I was too afraid to tell anyone who didn't absolutely need to know about it until I had it all set, so I worked as secretly as possible to secure everything I needed.

  In the meantime, I received mine and Adam's approved divorce decree in the mail. The county clerk's office had accidentally mailed both copies to my house. I sat at my desk staring at the envelope, unsure what to do next.

  "Well, my marriage is officially over," I told Grayson as he entered the room.

  "Wow," he said, wrapping his arms around me from behind. "Are you okay? How do you feel?"

  "You'd really be okay if I was upset about it, wouldn't you?" I asked, leaning back to kiss his cheek.

  "Of course," he said. "Adam was a big part of your life. I'm sure he always will be."

  "And you're totally okay with that?" I asked.

  "I love every part of you, Mark. Even the messy parts," he said, kissing me on the forehead in the sweet way that he knew I loved.

  "I love you so much, you know that? Do you want to move in together?" I asked.

  "I thought you'd never ask," he said with a huge smile. He pulled a key out of his wallet. The word "home" was engraved on the top. "I've had this for weeks."

  "You're so cute," I said, with a laugh. I swept him off of his feet and carried him upstairs to celebrate by making love in that house one last time.

  The next week, I moved into Grayson's cottage. I got all of the paperwork necessary to transfer the house over to Adam and mailed it to him with a letter and his copy of the divorce decree. Giving him that house felt like the right punctuation on that chapter of my life. I was ready to begin the next one with Grayson. If everything went how I was planning it, it was already in the works.

  I waited until the end of April when I was positive Mitch would be paid, and then I quit my job at the law firm. Throughout the preceding two months, I had secured the various parts of my plan so that I had it all ready to present to Grayson.

  "Hey, babe. How was work?" he asked when I got home to the cottage that day. He was sitting at the kitchen table with a giant stack of receipts in front of him.

  "It was fine," I said, planting a kiss on his cheek. "I quit."

  "What?" he asked, dropping the pen he'd been holding.

  "How busy are you right now?" I asked.

  "Well I wasn't doing anything as important as discussing this," he said incredulously.

  "Come with me," I said, reaching my hand out to him.

  He hesitated, but took my hand anyway and let me lead him. I drove him down town and assured him as he attempted to discuss my job that he would understand when we got where we were going. We finally arrived at a fairly new but unmarked building.

  "What is this, Mark?" he asked apprehensively as I opened his door for him.

  "Come on, I'll show you," I said, taking his hand again and leading him inside.

  I had already had most of the building furnished. There was a small reception area in the center of the lobby. Past that were several rooms. First was an office set up with the old office furniture from my house. Then a large room outfitted with computers and shelf after shelf filled with books, movies, and board games.

  Then another office. This one contained a large desk, a sofa, and several comfy looking chairs. On the door, a sign read, "Dr. Hannah Rodriguez: Head Psychiatrist."

  "Dr. Rodriguez got a new office?" he asked, confused. "Are you going to be her assistant or something?"

  "Not exactly," I said. "Let's go upstairs." On the five floors above were over 100 efficiency apartments.

  "I don't understand," Grayson said as we headed back down to the main floor. "What exactly is going on here?"

  "Remember Bailey, my client that reminded you of Alex?" I asked, leading him to sit in the lobby. "Well, Dr. Rodriguez has been working with him and he's gotten much better. And it got me to thinking about how many people don't have access to proper homes, much less mental health care. I was so lucky to have the resources that I did to be able to get the help that I needed.

  "But there are so many people like Bailey and Alex who aren't as lucky. I want this to be a place where they can come for help. Dr. Rodriguez and a few other psychiatrists have agreed
to volunteer their time for treatment. We'll give people homes until they're back on their feet. I'll run the administrative side of things. Bailey will be my assistant and Mitch will help set the tenants up with jobs. "

  "I have so many questions," Grayson said, sitting down in the lobby area. "First, how did you manage to do all of this without me knowing? Second, how can you afford it?"

  "I ran around like a maniac, basically," I admitted, taking his hands in mine. "And I secured a good amount of grant money. I have a few leads on other sources, and a few of my bigger clients from the law firm have agreed to partially fund us in exchange for being an honorary board of directors. I've thought it all out, babe. I promise. Are you okay? Are you upset? What are you feeling?"

  "Are you kidding me?" he asked. "How could I be upset with you? Look what you did, Mark. This is so beyond incredible. I love it."

  "Really?" I asked. He smiled and nodded, his eyes welling up. "Good, because there's one more thing I want to show you." I went behind the reception desk and retrieved a decal for the front door bearing the name of the home. "There's a big sign coming, but it takes an insanely long time to get those made, it turns out. But for now, I was hoping you'd do the honor of putting this on the door and making it official."

  I handed him the decal and his eyes overflowed with tears. "The Alexander Walker Refuge," he read, standing to hug me. "Mark, this is beautiful. I can't believe you did this."

  I held him tightly and breathed a sigh of relief that he was happy. After he put the sign on the door, we stood outside to admire it. Well, he admired the sign. I couldn't look away from his radiant smile as the setting sun behind his head created the most beautiful vision I'd ever seen.