Post by Deleted on Jun 23, 2019 21:28:58 GMT -5
Sanctuary
They were set to leave for Peru the next morning, and Mike for one was excited. For the time being, they had their anger, their desire to shatter one Dakota Jennings’ orbital bone into so many pieces that she’d be a droopy-eyed cunt for life, tucked on the back burner and were enjoying both a peaceful evening and the prospect of seeing one of the most spectacular ancient ruins in the world. They never thought in a million years they’d be so enthused about really old buildings, but one would be surprised about the tastes one picks up in the course of world travel.
For now, though, their bags were packed, their Uber scheduled to take them to the airport the next day, and NSFW were seated on the back porch- a brick-laid affair housing a Weber grill, a small fire pit with a flame crackling in it, and a set of wicker backyard furniture- two chairs, a small couch/loveseat, and a pair of side tables- one to the left with a can of lemon La Croix on it, and one to the right with a can of Leinenkeugel shandy. Mike was leaned against their partner’s side, smiling a bit at the occasional wink of greenish light that heralded the arrival of the years’ first fireflies.
“...I used to catch those things in a jar and carry ‘em around all night like a lantern. Always let ‘em all go before I went to bed, though. I didn’t once and in the morning they were all… heh. Anyway, I felt so fuckin’ bad about it that I never made that mistake again.”
Reaching over, they took a sip of their beer before setting it back down again, re-settling in their comfortable place against John’s side, looking up at him.
“You ever do anything like that?”
“No.”
That was what one could call a teaching moment in regards to the pitfalls of mortality. John held the coolness of the can to his forehead before cracking it open slowly as to make the least amount of noise possible. He took a sip. He dug back into those lessons - to those realizations and corrected himself.
“Probably.”
“Tell me?”
They kept their eyes on him, attentive. They never wanted to yank anything out of him by force, but sometimes it occurred to them that he knew a lot more of them than they of him. Sometimes it was if he’d tumbled out of an egg at some point, fully grown and exactly how he was now. Mike treasured any information they could get out of their beloved partner’s formative years, and sometimes, they thought, getting him to talk about that stuff was probably good for him.
They remembered the beach in Morocco several weeks prior. Mike had gotten John to speak at length- well, length for him- about his mother, and he’d abruptly stopped, the look on his face sadder than they’d ever seen it. As if he’d just remembered after all this time to let some restrained part of his grief process. It had hurt them to see him so melancholy, but they also knew it was important to deal with things like that. You keep your feelings internalized too long, it never had a good result.
They took another sip of their Leine’s.
“Everyone has,” John cleared his throat, “Everyone learns where the gifts under the tree come from eventually. Also that everyone and everything eventually dies. Your first pet. Fireflies. Your loved ones.”
Mike went quiet a bit at that, the silence filled by the crackling of the fire and the sound of chirping crickets, the near imperceptible fizzing of carbonation from their respective beverages. It was such a sad thing to say, but it was said matter of factly. The weather’s nice. I like that shirt. This book’s okay. Everyone you love will die. Mike appreciated, as always, their partner’s forward earnestness, but something tickled at their mind. Not just that he rarely spoke of himself anecdotally, but the fact that sometimes when asked for details pertaining to his past, the answer was the same.
They looked up at him again, brows furrowing a bit.
“There’s a lot you can’t remember, isn’t there?”
Not an accusation, or a smartass inquiry in any fashion. In fact, they asked it in a tone of almost tender concern.
John took another sip, “Some things aren’t worth remembering.”
“Well, yeah, but a lot of things are. And even the things that ain’t…”
Mike huffed a bit, sighed, tried to think how to place their words.
“When I woke up there was a lot of things I had to re-learn to do. For a couple weeks I couldn’t even walk. I had this physical therapist, Lilly. Had the patience of a fucking saint and the wisdom of one too. Gave me lots of little nuggets that helped me get through a really frustrating time. Don’t know if I would’ve got through that shit without her help. Anyway. I think I was at a low point and said something like I wished I’d woken up an amnesiac or some self-pitying shit like that. And Lil said that even the worst memories are worth keeping because they help make you who you are. The good ones give you touchstones to lift you up. The bad ones make you stronger so you can overcome the pain.”
He nodded, listening, absorbing their words. He looked inwards to dredge up anything. It would be easy to scrape along the top layer. His first meet. His mother’s funeral. His father’s alcoholism. That time he thought he felt something, not sure what it was, for someone else. John didn’t want to take away from what Mike said here. They had made it clear of what made them the person they are today. Something concealed whispered to him that there was an attempt being made to help.
“Never thought of bringing this up. Don’t think anyone would believe me anyway. The detectives, I didn’t have much to say to them. Three hours in, one of them, the one’s name I can’t remember, he turns off the tape recorder. Ray checks my handcuffs. I can’t remember if I had already been charged. They were just waiting for me to say what they knew. They look at each other briefly. And then Ray broke my nose. My arm being fractured wasn’t him directly. That was because I had fell out of the chair backwards and my right forearm cushioned my fall.”
He shrugged.
“Even though I had came with them voluntarily, the officer’s, now the arresting officer, report had said that I had resisted. Still does to this day. Ray’s dead now so ...” John stopped abruptly before switching away, “You know the rest.”
Mike kept a reactionary ‘Jesus Fuck!’ from popping out of their mouth. They knew what happened to that particular fucker- according to the research they’d done, he’d died a long and miserable death from cancer. Couldn’t have happened to a better person, Mike thought bitterly. Instead, they sat up a bit, leaning forward, scrutinizing slightly. There, they could see it now, faintly. Signs of not one fracture, but two, one far older but just evident. They couldn’t believe they’d missed it before. Gently tugging him down a little, they kissed it.
“You should talk to somebody about all this stuff. I mean, of course you can talk to me, about anything anytime, you know that, but… it’s gotta be a lot. You can get by and think it’s fine but if you don’t process this shit than…”
They sighed, pressing themself close.
“...I can’t help in some ways. I’m dumb like that. I hear about bad stuff happening to people I love and the way I wanna help is to hurt whoever did it ten times worse. Which usually either ain’t possible or ain’t legal. But you’ve dealt with more than any fucking human being should ever be expected to deal with. I don’t want you to have to carry that weight anymore and there’s only so much I can do by myself.”
They wished that weren’t the case. If they could carry every ounce of that weight for him, they would in an instant even if it buried them.
Another stretch of silence went by between the two. John didn’t care about what happened. It already happened so there was nothing he could do. But Mike was stating the contrary. Part of him liked to do what Mike told him to do. It helped create the routine he craved. Part of him, though, wanted to be angry about what had transpired. Just not what he shared. All of it.
“Okay.”
To anyone not named Mike, the lack of inflection would imply blowing off this suggestion.
“I know you’re just doing this cuz I asked. I appreciate that. But I wouldn’t fuckin’ ask if I didn’t think it’d do you good.”
It would, at least they hoped it would. Nobody could go through that level of trauma without needing to sort out something. And in addition… perhaps as a recognition by someone who knew better than them… there would be an answer on that other question, the one that Mike felt ill equipped to ask.
Mike gave John another kiss, on his forehead between the eyebrows this time, and nestled back close to him.
“It can wait till we get home. I’m glad you’re gonna be with me for this.”
He responded with a nod and that slight smile of his, and the two went back to gazing out upon their personal sanctuary, finishing off their drinks as evening gave way to night.