“I’ve been blessed,” Mick smiled, “with an interesting and rewarding life that’s satisfied me in every way. I’ve achieved every one of my goals in thirty-nine years, and for that I’m grateful. I have no regrets, which is all one can hope for given our allotted time on this earth. I’ve loved and been loved by extraordinary people. How could I not consider myself lucky? I am, by far, the luckiest man here.”
Mick looked away from the audience for a minute and turned his head to look at Tono and Paul, who smiled encouragingly. Tono grabbed Paul’s hand and clutched at it, chewing on his lower lip and fighting the tears that Mick couldn’t see from where he sat. Mick turned back to the audience and whispered into the microphone, “Thank you for this award. It’s very much appreciated.”
Paul wheeled Mick offstage to the sound of a thundering applause that continued long after they had left the building on their way to the car. They were going to stop at the bar, Vergara, and have a few drinks with the friends who’d become a part of their inner circle while in San Sebastian. Many of them were former Jai alai players, had known Tono for years, and knew that he and Mick were gay. Since his official retirement, Tono’s need to keep his relationship with Mick relatively discreet was no longer necessary, and the comfort level they’d achieved with the people at the bar precluded any need for subterfuge. There were others in their group: Americans and Europeans living or vacationing in San Sebastian on a regular basis who knew they were partners and were familiar with Paul’s presence as Mick’s friend and publisher.
The bar erupted with raucous cries of congratulations when the three entered. They’d left their jackets in the car and rolled up their sleeves, ready to get down and party. Mick was wheeled to a table and presented with a small shot glass of tequila, his favorite drink. There were limes on a plate surrounded by sea salt, and he reached for the glass—but dropped it. The owner of the bar replaced it quickly with another, reassuring Mick who, apologized profusely. “¡Qué va, Mick, no se preocupe!”
Mick extended his hand again and it shook; it seemed to be weighed down by a thousand bricks, but this time it worked. He wrapped his fingers around the small glass, swallowed the contents in one gulp, and bit into a lime dipped in salt. He relished the taste and the warmth that slid down his throat, heating his insides, which had gone cold suddenly.
“I want to make a toast,” he said, straining to make himself heard over the noise. Tono gestured for everyone to quiet down. He and Paul stood side by side, gazing at Mick with pride and love.
“You’ll have to excuse me if I get maudlin,” Mick said gently, “but being here, with all of you, is very special to me.” Everyone in the room was silent as they waited for Mick to continue. “Tonight was a great honor for me, and Paul, but what made it so special was the fact that it was here, in San Sebastian, a place I’ve called home for the last nine years. You’ve opened your hearts to me―the gringo who walked into this bar a long time ago and fell in love with one of your own.” Mick gazed at Tono, who quickly smiled at him. “I’m still in love, by the way, in case you’re wondering,” Mick looked at both men pointedly and smiled, though his eyes were bright with tears.
Paul and Tono stepped forward in alarm, but Mick waved them back weakly. He blinked several times, but a few tears managed to escape and roll down his cheeks slowly. “I’m in love, and happy, and I wanted you to share in my good fortune. So, here’s to more of the same! Drinks are on me, my friends. To the future,” Mick said, raising his trembling hand slightly in another toast, “whatever it may bring so long as it’s here, surrounded by all of you.”
He turned toward the two men who meant everything to him. Paul raised his glass in a silent toast while Tono just stood there, chewing on his lower lip, as usual, and doing his best not to break down in front of everyone.
Mick mouthed the words “I love you” and attempted to bring his glass up to his mouth but stopped when he realized it wasn’t happening. Tono moved quickly, took the shot glass from Mick’s hand, and brought it up to his own lips. He tilted his head and allowed the liquid into his mouth, then bent down and kissed Mick, sharing the tequila with his lover. His face grimaced in agony as he fought back the stinging hot tears threatening to blind him.
“Majo,” Mick whispered. “It’s okay.”
Paul was at their side in a second, and he knelt down and placed his hand on Mick’s knee. “I’m here, babe.” The words came out strangled as his tears poured down his cheeks, unmindful of the audience.
Mick’s unforgettable orchid eyes shone brilliantly, and for that one second, the old, fun-loving, vibrant man peeked through. “You always were, sweetheart. I never doubted it for a minute.”
About the Author
MICKIE B. ASHLING began writing stories about men who love men around the time she discovered Queer as Folk in 2002. The characters on that show intrigued her, and groundbreaking writers such as Patricia Nell Warren inspired her. She began to write the kind of stories that she enjoyed reading, spurred on by her muse, who really has this thing for hunky men getting it on.
Mickie has lived in the Philippines, Spain, the Middle East, and San Francisco but currently resides in a quiet suburb outside Chicago. She’s a respectable office manager by day and a proud mother of four grown men who continue to wonder where this interest in gay romance has come from. They shake their heads and scratch their chins but ultimately leave her alone. They know better than to mess with Mama’s choices. Mickie’s first love is writing, but traveling is a close second. Her dream is to be able to quit her day job soon so she can devote all her time and energy doing what she loves best.
Visit Mickie’s web site at http://mickieashling.com and her blog at http://mickieashling.livejournal.com/. You can contact her at mickie. [email protected].
Also by MICKIE B. ASHLING
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Dramatic Romance from DREAMSPINNER PRESS
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Loving Edits Page 22