The Mating of Michael (14 page)

“This weekend?” James suggested without thinking. Immediately, he worried that he sounded overeager. “You probably have to work.”

“Nope, I’m not on call this weekend. I’ve got hot plans.”

“Great. Have a marvelous time.” James thought he sounded as if he didn’t care. But he was dismayed to find that he
did
care, a fact confirmed by the renewed twisting in his gut. It was depressing to think about Michael spending the weekend with a lover. More than depressing. It upset him a lot.

Which was ridiculous. Of course, Michael was dating men. He and James were just friends, and Michael would have plenty of opportunity for sex elsewhere—opportunities with healthy, virile, full-bodied men. James picked at his steak.

“I hope so too,” Michael said. “See, I have another epic beauty spot in central Washington I’d like to take you to, if you’re free. It’s a bit of a drive, but I’ve got a place we can spend Saturday night. We can make a weekend of it.”

James scratched at his neck, keeping his face impassive, even while his heart took off like a shuttle launch. He tried to sound doubtful. “Hmm. Not sure about a whole weekend. I should do some writing.”

“What you should do is fill up your soul,” Michael said firmly. “You’ll write better on Monday.”

“Traveling overnight with me—it’s complicated.”

“Hey, I haven’t dropped the ball yet, have I?” Michael sounded matter-of-fact about it, like it was no big deal, but it still touched a tender spot in James’s heart.

Why
did
Michael make the effort? Surely, he had other friends to do things with who were much easier companions. But even as he wondered, James felt a lump of happiness in his throat at the thought that Michael wanted to be with him enough to bother.

So he did what any acerbic recluse would do. He glowered.

Michael tilted his head curiously. “Is that a yes? No? ‘The magic eight-ball says answer will be clear tomorrow’?”

“Fine. Yes.”

“Yes, you bastard,” Michael prompted.

“Yes, you
bast
ard,” James growled theatrically.

Michael smiled. “That’s my boy.”

“E
LLENSBURG
?” J
AMES
said doubtfully as Michael activated the turn signal for the exit.

Michael laughed. “Don’t worry. This isn’t the scenic vista I promised. I just need to stop to pick up a key from my mom.”

James felt a pang of dread. “We’re staying with your parents?”

Why hadn’t he gotten more details from Michael before he’d agreed to this trip? He really didn’t want to face the scrutiny of Michael’s mom and dad. What would they think? Would they think they were a couple?

Michael shot him a look. “Not
parents
. My dad’s been absentee since I was a baby. But my mom is pretty great.”

James didn’t know what to say to that. He didn’t have long to ponder, because their destination wasn’t far off the freeway.

James had never been to central Washington and was surprised how different it was from Seattle and Portland. Once over the Snoqualmie Mountains, the land flattened out to open, empty plains between distant mountains. From the freeway, Ellensburg was all cow town convenience stores, chain restaurants, and strip malls, until Michael turned left onto a side street and pulled up outside a nursing home. It was a low, brick complex that looked like it had been built in the seventies. The sign promised, rather redundantly,
Caring Senior Care
.

James was confused. Was Michael’s mother in a nursing home? Maybe they were getting a key to a relative’s house?

“Come inside with me?” Michael asked after parking.

“It’s a pain to hassle with the chair if you’re just grabbing a key.”

Michael licked his lips, a small frown between his brows. “I… spent a lot of time here when I was young. I’d like you to see it. It won’t take long. Okay?”

James wasn’t sure what to make of the request, but the place was obviously wheelchair friendly. The front door was level with the sidewalk and the curb from the parking area was cut. Plus, he could use a restroom after the drive and there would likely be accessible ones inside. He nodded. Michael got his chair out of the backseat, and James opened the passenger door and got into it.

“Into the fray,” James said when he was seated. “Or the gray, as it were.”

Michael laughed. “Yes, indeed. Plenty of gray hair in here.”

Beyond the front door was a large common room with comfortable-looking couches, tables, and a TV. There was also a nursing station off to one side. There were half a dozen residents in the room—some watching TV, a few playing cards. They were all well into their senior years. Before James could ask Michael if his mother was living there, an ancient-looking man playing cards spotted them.

“Michael!” he said in a weak but excited voice. He left the card game and came rolling over in his own chair, a big smile on his face.

“Wilson!” Michael bent down to give the old man a warm hug. Wilson patted his back with a gnarled hand.

“You look good,” Michael said, straightening up. “You never change.”

“I just shrink a little bit every year,” the old man chuckled and winked at James. “Wanna know my secret?”

“Absolutely,” Michael said.

Wilson leaned in to whisper. “Egg whites and tangerines. Fifty percent of my diet.”

“I’ll remember that.” Michael looked impressed.

Wilson looked Michael up and down. “Gee whiz, you look good! All grown up.”

“Wilson, this is my friend James. James, Wilson. I’ve known him since I was in high school.”

“How are ya?” Wilson said gruffly, leaning forward and reaching out a hand. James leaned forward and shook it. Wilson’s skin was papery and dry.

“Nice to meet you, sir,” James said with a genuine smile.

“Any friend of Michael’s has to be a good egg. This kid, he’s one of a kind,” Wilson nodded toward Michael, a very fond expression on his face.

“Don’t go telling stories on me now,” Michael warned.

“No, no,” Wilson chuckled. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Come meet everyone.”

Wilson introduced Michael and James to everyone in the common room, telling each person that Michael used to work there and how wonderful he was. Another woman, rosy cheeked and white haired, remembered Michael as well, and Michael gave her a kiss.

Michael eventually pulled him away, and James used a restroom off the main hall. It was, indeed, well-equipped for handicapped, and it gave James one less thing to worry about for a few hours.

When he came out, he asked, “So you worked here? What did you do?”

“I was a nurse’s aide here for a couple of years in high school. But even before that, I used to come here every day after school. My mom worked three to eleven, and she hated for me to be home alone, so I hung out here and did my homework, watched TV, played on my Gameboy. I read. A lot.”

Ah. Michael’s mother worked here. That made sense. Still, James was having a hard time picturing it. Young Michael had spent most of his spare time with geriatrics?

“Didn’t you have friends you could hang out with? You didn’t play after-school sports?”

Michael shrugged. “I had a few friends. But the school bus would drop me off here, so it was convenient. And sports and I never got along. I wasn’t exactly jock material.”

Michael said it jokingly, but James frowned. Michael was so… sophisticated and trendy. Hanging out in a nursing home in Ellensburg didn’t really fit James’s idea of him.

“I want to show you something,” Michael said nervously.

“Okay.”

Michael led the way to a nearby room. It was a small lending library, no more than eight by ten, with shelves of tattered books and movies. But there was a window seat with a sturdy cushion and a view across an open field.

Michael blushed. “I shouldn’t tell you this. It’s
so
fanboy.”

“I’ve steeled myself for adoration,” James said dryly. “Go on.”

“Well… I spent a lot of time reading in that window seat. Mostly science fiction. And I was sixteen when I sat there and read
Troubadour Turncoat.
”

James had a moment where he saw himself, at eighteen, lying in bed writing
Turncoat
and Michael, at sixteen, sitting in that seat reading it. It was a rather awesome thought.

“Before that, I didn’t mind coming here to hang out, but I had zero interest in getting involved with the work. But after
Turncoat
… I don’t know. It changed my point of view. Acton was such a crazy-ass hero. It was like… he was a powerful warrior in a way, but with medicine, with his mind. I’d never been good at sports. Never was ‘macho’ like so many of the heroes in the books I read. But Acton Halliway, he was someone I could become.” Michael’s voice got a little thick, and he frowned. “Sorry. Wow, that’s probably way too gushing, isn’t it?”

“It’s fine,” James said. It was way more than fine.

“Anyway, after that I started volunteering here, and then I was hired as an aide. After I graduated, I went to nursing school.”

I love that about you
. The thought entered James’s mind in a sneak attack. It was a strange thought to have. He’d known Michael was a nurse, of course, and that it was a decent profession to have, implied some kind of desire to serve that was admirable, like being a firefighter or a cop. But it had been abstract until this moment, standing with Michael in this nursing home. He saw that being a nurse was more than a paycheck to Michael, that it came from his heart. And James did love that. And he loved that he’d inspired it, even if he really didn’t think he could take much credit for it. If not through
Turncoat,
Michael would have found his path some other way. But it was still amazing to have had an influence on someone’s life.

He also couldn’t help but sense the similarity between this place and where he himself had grown up, Children of God.

“What inspired you to write about a medic anyway?” Michael asked.

“They say to write what you know. Never been around military guys, but I’ve been around more doctors than you can shake a tongue depressor at.”

“Yeah?” Michael studied him. “Was there any one in particular that inspired the character?”

James hesitated. “There was a younger doctor who came to the home regularly, worked with the kids. He was something of a model for Acton.”

“Was he—”

“Michael!” A woman entered the room. She was small, no more than five-feet-two and very petite. She wore a uniform—white polyester pants and a crazy colorful printed nurse’s smock. With her dark hair and pretty face, James knew at once who she was.

“Hey, Mom!” Michael hugged his mother in a big way, his arms looking surprisingly strong and sheltering wrapped around her slender shoulders. They hugged for a long moment. Their mutual love and affection was obvious.

James felt a strange tension in his body—something deep and pained. He pushed it down, focusing on the facts.

She must have been very young when she had him. She could pass for his older sister. And Michael said he didn’t know his father so she was a young, single mother. Like mine.

Only nothing like mine.

“Mom, meet James,” Michael said, pulling away.

“Hi, James.” Mrs. Lamont wore a weary smile. She came over and offered her hand. He took it, but it didn’t seem right to give a manly shake to such a petite woman so he just gently squeezed it.

“Hello. Sorry to impinge on your work day, Mrs. Lamont.”

“Oh, honey,” she said, still smiling, “this is a huge treat for me. And please, call me Kathy.” She turned to look at Michael, but when James would have let go of her hand, she kept his firmly clasped. “So where are you two headed?”

“Steamboat Rock and Coulee Dam. James has never seen them.”

“How fun!” She looked back at James and smiled. “Isn’t it funny how kids change? When Michael was young, I’d try to take him out sightseeing or hiking on Sundays, and you should have heard him whine. He always wanted stay at home and read.”

“Mom.”

“And he couldn’t read in the car because it made him carsick, so if he was at a good part in a book, it was like water torture. The glares he used to give me when I dragged his little behind out of the house, I swear you’d think I was driving him to his execution.”

“Mom!” Michael said louder. He was giving her a wide-eyed, back-off stare.

Kathy looked guilty. “Er—of course, once we got out where we were going, he always had a good time. Didn’t you, babe?” She let go of James’s hand to brush back the hair that hung above Michael’s eyes. It was obviously an old move. Michael ducked away without rancor.

“No telling stories on me until we’ve drunk at least a bottle of wine. That’s the rule.”

Kathy laughed. “I can manage that. I got tonight off so I can cook for you boys.”

“You did?” Michael seemed surprised.

“Of course, Michael. You don’t come see me very often, so of course, I want to have dinner with you. Janelle’s covering for me.”

“That’s awesome.” Michael’s eyes flicked to James worriedly, as if asking if that was okay. It wasn’t. As nice as Kathy seemed, James really didn’t want to have to sit through a family meal, especially not this family. But James didn’t give any sign.

“Here’s the spare key. I won’t be home ’til seven.” She pulled a key from her pocket and handed it to Michael.

“Thanks. We’d better head out.” Michael kissed her cheek and nodded to James.

“I’m looking forward to grilling you over dinner, James,” Kathy said with a wink that was just like Michael’s, except hers was conspiratorial rather than stupidly sexy.

James managed a tight smile even as his stomach twisted with dread.

James was quiet when they got back in the car. He stared out the window as Michael got back onto the freeway headed east. Michael kicked himself for taking James inside and bludgeoning the poor guy emotionally.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for that to be so, like, Michael’s life dump. How embarrassing. First, I do the gushing-about-your-book thing, and then you have to meet my mother.”