Date: Sun, 1 May 2016 20:20:27 +0000 (UTC)
From: John Gerald <connectwriter@yahoo.com>
Subject: Mickey 15

"I'm not sure that this is completely due the concussions, Drew,"
Dr. Lansdowne said as Drew sat in front of her on the examination table.
"It could be related, but there is perhaps something else here that might
be equally culpable."

"Things got a little rough during a basketball game a few days ago, but I
didn't feel anything traumatic at the time, at least not like when I was
playing football," he replied, struggling to find some event that might
have triggered the episode.

"Did you feel nauseous? Dizzy? A headache? Any bleeding from your ears or
anything like that?" she asked.

 "No, not really. My ankle hurts like hell, but Mickey helped me over to
the bench. And I was eventually able to get around, so even that wasn't so
bad in the end."

"Breathe in and hold it," she said as the cold stethoscope moved across his
broad chest, the metal disc not making much of an impression on the hard
flesh. After a few moments she gave him permission to let it out again.

"That probably means that you didn't bang up your head again, at least in
terms of getting another concussion. You're not a novice at this stuff, so
you probably would have known if that happened," she said.

"Oh yeah, I think so!" he responded, chuckling for the first time.

She slipped her stethoscope back around her neck and was just starting to
turn around when her motion suddenly stopped and she looked back at him.

"Drew, we could do another MRI if you want, I know how much you enjoy
those," she quipped, getting another smile from Drew. "But can I ask you
some other questions first?"

"Sure," he responded, a bit unsure of where she was going and hoping that
it wasn't something even more serious.

She sat down at her nearby writing table and took off the stethoscope but
just pushed the computer keyboard away.

"You've been under a lot of stress, recently, haven't you?" she asked,
swiveling her chair to draw back closer.

"Well, I guess so," he responded before pausing and thinking some more.  "I
mean, yes, for sure. You know all that's going on of course," he continued,
getting a knowing glance back from her. "But it's not stuff that I don't
think I can handle."

She hesitated in her chair for a moment before she spoke again.  "I think
that's probably true, Drew. I don't know the ins-and-outs of how you were
raised and all, but I imagine that a lot of this is not at all unfamiliar
territory."

"Well, for me to be the focus of it is pretty new, of course, to be center
stage. But, as my Dad might say about me, at least I've spent a lot of time
in a front row seat."

"What about Mickey?" she asked. "How do you think he's reacting to this?"

She could see the muscles in his chest and arms tighten up as he took a
deep breath and sighed. He was about to speak before she interrupted him.

"Let me ask you this, Drew, if I can. I'm not a psychologist, but I am a
doctor. And having practiced for a long time, I like to think that I can
sometimes tell when the cause isn't just physical."

"What do you mean," he asked, his head tilted slightly down to better aim
his eyes precisely into hers.

"Do you worry about Mickey a lot?" she asked.

He blinked, but didn't answer.  Clearing his throat, seemingly in an effort
to better speak, he remained mute but his mind was clearly working.  She
didn't interrupt and just let him work through what he wanted to say.

"I do," he finally responded.  "All the time. I know that we both wanted to
be together and it was the right decision. But I feel like I'm making his
life hell with all the stuff that's going on.  He doesn't deserve any of
this shit!" he proclaimed, his voice rising.

He rolled his head back and took in a deep breath. "Sorry, for that, I just
get kind of worked up about it."

"No worries," she replied. "It's understandable."

"There isn't anything that I wouldn't do to make this all go away, the
sooner the better," he continued. "Nothing. But I can't. And who knows if
some crazy person comes after him because of who he's with, or just because
of who he is. And now his life is in the newspapers, people are digging up
all sorts of very embarrassing and private things about him and his
family. And I can't stop any of it," he said, desperation clear in his
voice.

"There is hardly a moment when I don't think of this.  It's in my head all
the time."

She let him continue talking until she felt like he had pushed out all that
he had bottled up inside himself.

"I think that you answered my question," she finally responded.

Crossing her hands in front of her and leaning back in her chair, she
asked, "Could I give you some advice?"

"Sure," he responded, struggling to steady his breathing and appear like he
was in control again. "Anything if it would help get to the bottom of
this."

She looked away, but it was clear she wasn't losing her focus on him.  "Our
middle daughter had a lot of problems when she was born. I'm a doctor, and
knew intellectually what I needed to do. But sometimes I was so worried
about her that I just froze.  The fear, and my helplessness, just consumed
me," she said.

"My husband was the one who convinced me that the only way that I could
really help her was to put that aside and just be there for her. I couldn't
just look at the worst case scenarios about what might happen. No matter
what might lie ahead, it was most important to just take one day at a time
and just try to enjoy our time with each other. That's all."

"She still has issues," Dr. Lansdowne continued, "And the issues are all
very real, but I no longer battle imagined ones or things I can't do
anything about. All we can do is have each other for as long as we can and
make sure that every minute counts," she added.

"And it might be a good way to think about things for yourself, too."

					One Month Later

"Ready?!" Mickey asked, swinging the duffel bag over his shoulder. It
wasn't even daybreak yet, but to arrive before sunset they had to make an
early start.

"I think so. But let me do one final check," Drew replied as he traced his
finger up and down the To Do list on his phone.

"Yup, that's it!" he declared after skimming through one last time.

Then he stooped down to talk to Daisy, "Are you ready girl? We're going to
Mickey's house for Thanksgiving. It's about nine hours in the car – but
we'll make lots of pit stops along the way. OK?"

"Sounds good to me," Mickey responded as Daisy just drooled and panted, the
way she always did when she sensed a car ride coming.

"So let's do it!"

"Do you want to drive the first couple hours?" Drew asked.

"Hmmm..." Mickey thought.

"We've got to sell this thing when we get back here, so it's your last
chance," Drew added, by way of enticement.  "The next car won't be nearly
as zoomy."

"No, but practical is OK, I'm good with what little SUV we can afford. But
I'll enjoy my last opportunity to actually blow ahead of moving traffic
from the on-ramp," Mickey replied. He had learned to drive on his Mom's old
jalopy, which could barely keep up with traffic, let alone make a
competitive entrance at freeway speed

Later on, about two hours away from their destination, Daisy seemed to be
getting antsy in the back seat.

"Do you think that she needs to find a tree?" Mickey asked.

Drew looked up into the mirror, and noticed her back and forth motion along
the seat, stepping over duffel bags like they weren't there. "Yes,
probably. She could just want a treat, too, but just in case let's make a
stop."

Pulling out his phone, Mickey searched for upcoming rest stops, or at least
exits that looked like they had human facilities close to the exit. She
actually wasn't very choosy about where she did her business, so if a
parking even had a small patch of grass she wouldn't complain.

Since they were in a rural part of western Pennsylvania there weren't many
towns of any size around, let alone bigger cities. Fortunately, the next
exit looked like it had a gas station and a few fast food joints.

"About five miles ahead," Mickey said. "and I think I'll take advantage of
the facilities myself."

The development around the exit was actually pretty new, with a cluster of
one level buildings not more than a minute off of the freeway. It was a
like a very compact strip mall, where several fast-food places, a mini-mart
and also a gas station shared a parking lot.

"I think I'm OK, so I'll take Daisy for a walk if you want to go in," Drew
said as he opened the door and put on her leash.

"I can take her to the car when we get back, if you want to go, too."
Mickey responded.

"We'll see how I feel after I've picked up after her," he said. "But take
your time. We could probably use some gas, too."

"K. Can I get you anything?"

"Hmmm... maybe a power bar or something like that. There should be stuff at
the house when we get there, so just a snack will do me fine."

After using the bathroom, Mickey strolled the store to see what kind of
selection they had. He knows the brand that Drew liked, and the
flavors. They didn't have his favorite, but Mickey found what he thought
was a good second choice and got two of those along with water for each of
them.

Knowing that Daisy might take a few minutes, he browsed around the aisles a
bit, looking for something else that Drew would like. But as he walked
between the rows of chips, pretzels and all variety of junk food, he felt
like someone was watching him.

Since he and Drew had made their big splash in the media, it wasn't unusual
for people to stare at either of them, and once in a while actually say an
encouraging word (or, once in a great while, to express their indignation.)
But even before that, Mickey was used to getting stared at so had almost
developed a sixth sense for when he was being observed.

What made it unusual was that the only people in the store were him and the
clerk at the counter. He had hardly noticed the guy when he came in, only
briefly asking about the location of the bathroom.  The guy did seem a bit
surprised when he looked up at him, but he'd seen that reaction for years
and almost expected it at this point. Besides, they were out in the boonies
and no one would probably recognize him for anything else but his
scars. That was the nice thing, if he could call it `nice,' about getting
out of the east coast and away from the cities.

After scouring all the shelves, it didn't look like they would have
anything else even remotely healthy for Drew except for some mixed nuts, so
he grabbed a couple small bags and headed for the counter.

"Just this stuff here," he said as he spread out the items and reached for
his wallet.

As Mickey was opening his billfold, he noticed that the counter guy seemed
to be looking around, and at first didn't even acknowledge the items ready
to be rung up.

The guy, or kid, rather, appeared to be really young, maybe even in high
school.  He didn't look at Mickey but was still glancing around, his eyes
barely visible under the branded store cap that was part of his uniform.

"Um..." Mickey said, not wanting to embarrass him but trying to get his
attention.

"Oh... sorry, I... ugh... never mind," he said, an embarrassed smile coming
over his face as he started to scan the wrappers.

"Here you go," he said, handing Mickey the bagged items after he had paid.

"Thank you very much!" Mickey replied. The guy still seemed anxious, so he
felt like he could at least show some enthusiasm and be friendly.

As he began to turn away and head for the exit, the counter person said to
him. "Are you the guy that... um... was on TV, um with your,
um... friend... um... boyfriend?" he asked, his voice almost shaking.

Mickey stopped and turned back. "Yes, that's us, or rather me, I think.
I'm surprised that anyone would recognize me here," he responded, chuckling
slightly to try put him at ease.

"Oh, lots of people know who you guys are. Even here," he responded with
sudden enthusiasm. But then he looked around again and his voice got low.

"I'm... um... gay like you. But it's so conservative around here. I can't
tell anyone. But I follow the news and when I saw all the stuff on you
guys... wow, like, I suddenly realized that there were other people like me
around, and they were pretty neat guys," he said, trying to contain his own
enthusiasm.

Mickey hardly knew what to say. No one had ever said anything like that to
him before, that they had actually been like a role model for a young
person who was just coming out.

All he could think of was to introduce himself. "Mickey Deringer," he said,
and held out his hand.

There was suddenly a big smile on the guy's face. "Chip. Chip Smith. I'm
very glad to meet you," he responded, reaching out over the counter to
return the greeting.

 Mickey hadn't realized until then how big the guy was until he felt the
powerful grip of his handshake. He was practically as big as Drew, and had
a build that would suggest an athlete of some kind.

Suddenly, as the door chimes rang and another person entered the store, his
hand quickly withdrew behind the counter.

"Sorry," he said quietly, "Um but I'm not, um... out yet..."

"No worries!" Mickey replied. "I totally understand." Then he encouraged
the guy to do something that he never thought he'd say.

"Look up stuff about Drew on the internet. He had the same struggles as
you. And I think that you're the kind of person that he would like to share
it with."

"Will do!" he replied, the unmistakable look of happiness written across
his face.

						***

With pit stops and traffic it ended up taking them 12 hours to make the
drive to Drew's family cottage, the only really significant asset that he
could claim from his vanished inheritance. Their plan was to spend a few
days here checking up on the place, making repairs and getting it prepared
for the coming winter before a further two-hour drive north to spend
Thanksgiving with Mickey's Mom.

"Wow, it really is pretty hilly here, much more so than New England,"
Mickey remarked.

"Yeah, that's the beauty of it, at least to me. That's what I like about
upstate New York, too. I like hills, mountains, lakes. The city is good and
fun and all that, but this is really my favorite kind of place. I just love
the forests and all the green."

"I want our kids to have some of this, too," he continued, his voice
trailing away.

Drew, who had taken the wheel about mid-way through the drive, pulled off
the country road and into hidden drive on the left hand side.

"Wow, this is like finding the Bat Cave, there's no way I would have seen
this on my own," Mickey said. "I'm sure glad that you were driving."

Stopping the car behind a mound of large boulders, he got out and went to a
long metal gate that barred the entry. Moving around the anchor post to
give Mickey a better view and then rubbing his hands to warm them up in the
30-degree temperature, he removed the cold pin from the edge of the gate
then rotated it open just enough for their car to get through.

Beyond, it looked to Mickey like the beginning of a long, winding gravel
road along the edge of a mountain.

"I think that this path cost as much to build as the entire house," he
joked. "It took some feats of engineering to get it done. My grandpa even
had some bridges built over the creek to make it go all the way to the
cottage with a car."

Mickey gazed out the window, soaking in the atmosphere as much as he
could. It was like looking into another side of Drew, the part that was not
from the city or university or business but was rooted in the mountains and
woods.

After about 10 minutes of sharp turns and tires rumbling over the gray
gravel surface, they arrived.

In spite of the huge presence that it had in Drew's memory, it was not by
any means an overwhelming structure, at least in scale.  Back at
Middlefield he had once visited a classmate's family's summer house. It was
in the Hamptons on Long Island and was a veritable Versailles on the
water. This place was much more like a hunting lodge, with a steeply raked
roof and series of dormers that were probably the bedrooms.

Except for clearing immediately around the house, the property was
completely surrounded by the forest.  The entry drive wrapped in and out
around old growth trees, and even the parking spaces were shoehorned in
between their towering trunks. Whoever designed it wanted to make the
building blend in and be part of the woods as much as possible.

"Where is the lake?" Mickey asked as they both stepped out of the car.

"You'll see," Drew responded, smiling as he opened the door for Daisy. She
immediately headed for a wood pergola along the side which seemed like it
must be the way to the entry.

"Let's go in first, then we can unload. Would that be OK?" Drew asked.

"Sure, however you want to do it."

Following Daisy, it was just one step up to the deck from the driveway. The
pergola was thick with vines, which had lost most of their green but must
be formidable presence in the summer, Mickey thought.

"Honeysuckle," Drew said, almost reading his mind. "It smells great when
they're in bloom."

As there were no obstacles or trip hazards, Drew put his hand on Mickey's
back and gently guided him ahead.

The deck made squeaky noises at each stop, but everything was clean and
trim.  He was thankful for the early start, as it was already approaching
twilight and he never could have navigated this path in the dark.

After a few steps, he turned the corner. At first his eyes were mostly
focused down, just making sure that he was following the path.  Then he
looked up.

Framed by a large porch that stretched the length of the house, he could
see the lake from shore to shore. Mickey couldn't tell how wide it was, but
if Drew said that he once swam from one side to the other it must have
taken him half a day to do it.

The sun was setting on the opposite shore and its reflection accentuated
the slight waves and ripples of the calm lake surface.

"You timed this perfectly," Mickey said as Drew sidled next to him. He
looked as happy as Mickey had ever seen him.

"I tried," he said as his hand slipped around Mickey's waist and pulled
them together.

Mickey suddenly felt warm.

Together they soaked in the view, until Daisy started scratching at the
front door.

"She loves it here, too. Her favorite doggie pad is inside," he said as he
pulled Mickey toward the front door.

The heavy, solid front door reminded Mickey of the massive gates on some of
the older structures at school, with the kind of long opening creak that
sounded like the door on a haunted house.

"My grandpa called this the `Great Room,' Drew said as he closed the door
behind them. It was grand, two story space with wood paneled walls and a
huge stone fireplace that went up and through the timber roof. And there
was even a fire blazing.

"Your caretaker is a good guy. Having the fireplace going, that's a nice
touch." Mickey said as he gave Drew a kiss on the cheek,

"He's just part time, but paying him is worth 10 of those cars to me." Drew
responded.  "I was a little concerned about what he would think, as it's
pretty conservative around here. But he's been great. It turns out that his
brother is gay, which probably helped."

To Mickey, it looked like the paradigm of the rural family retreat. While
it didn't rival the Hamptons house in size, it more than made up for what
it lacked in scale with detail and character.  No wonder Drew loved it.

"Let me give you the grand tour," Drew proclaimed as he took Mickey's hand
and walked him through the place, starting with the ground floor.

In the kitchen, they found bottles of cold water and some meat, cheese,
bread and a few other items that Drew thought they would need for their
short stay. Even some kibble and treats for Daisy. Next time, they'd save
money and buy it themselves, but the caretaker was so nice that Drew felt
like he would be disappointed if he couldn't do them the favor. And
besides, it was nice to have as many old fixtures in his life as possible.

After a round through all the other adjacent rooms, they made their way
upstairs. All the bedrooms had been cleaned, including the master and the
other rooms, though it was only him and Drew.  He wasn't sure exactly what
that meant, but he would let Drew do what made him comfortable.

When the tour was complete, they went out to the car and retrieved their
baggage. "Let's just leave the stuff at the top of the stairs," was the
only cryptic hint that he got about the sleeping arrangement.

While Drew was in the kitchen checking on the thermostat and a few other
things to make sure the mechanics of the house were up and running, Mickey
brought the final bags out of the car.

When all the moving chores were done he returned to the Great Room. He
stared through the multi-pained picture window at the by now barely visible
lake, taking in the last faint image before the sun disappeared behind the
mountaintop.

While almost losing himself in the view, he suddenly felt Drew's arms come
around him from behind, wrapping around his waist. He had done this lots of
times before, and Mickey was about to put his hand on Drew's like he had
likewise done many times before, and Drew would stand there and hold
him. But this time, something was different.

Drew turned him around, putting both his hands on Mickey's face and pulled
him close for a kiss.

Mickey could feel himself getting excited and tried to stay in control as
they parted lips. He was still in his `move at Drew's pace' mode.

But his breathing betrayed him. "Wow," he said, before taking a breath,
"That was... nice... what is..."

"I'm ready for my bonus now." Drew said, a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Bonus?" Mickey responded, perplexed.

Drew just shook his head up and down. "Yes. My bonus," Drew said, his hands
firmly stroking Mickey's torso, probing in a way that he hadn't quite done
before. His touch was stronger. Firmer. And more aggressive.

"Ohhh..." Micky finally realized what he meant. Or thought that he
did. Back on the night when he ran out of the restaurant and Drew followed
him. Mickey had told him that his working out at the gym would just be a
`bonus' for whatever guy really liked him for who he was.

Drew's hands were now on his belt, but Mickey was so surprised that his own
hands just laid at his sides as the powerful hands began to play with the
buckle.

`Does he... is he?' Mickey asked himself. More than anything he wanted to
make love to him.  `But does he really want it? Is that what he's saying?'
he asked himself.  Before he did anything else he swallowed and pulled
together all the self-control he could muster.

Reaching around and putting his hands on Drew's face, he asked softly, "Are
you ready?"

There was no pause or hesitation. "I'm ready," he said, before he again
pulled them closer and kissed again.

Swallowing hard, Mickey responded, "I hope I didn't set expectations too
high when I said that thing about a bonus. I mean..."

Drew was licking his face as he spoke, tickling Mickey, who finally decided
that, whatever was happening, this might be the night!

"Let me take off my shirt," he said, his dick suddenly aching. Whatever he
had made out of his body, this was the time for Drew to enjoy it. He hoped.

"No... let me take it off of you... if that's OK," Drew asked.

He smiled back. "Um...sure!"

As Drew reached up and started on the buttons, Mickey could see his hands
shaking.

"Are you really sure?" Mickey asked, now holding Drew's hands in his as he
felt them trembling.

Drew exhaled.  "I thought... I thought that I'd be very sexy and all, get
you here at twilight, all alone, out in the woods. But I guess I'm still a
bit nervous, I'm..."

"We don't have to do anything that you aren't ready for Drew, Ok? I can
wait," he said, ignoring his own raging hard-on.

Suddenly, Drew stopped shaking. Looking into Mickey's eyes, he pulled his
face close and gave him yet another kiss, this time with an invading tongue
whose intentions were unmistakable.

As their heads moved away, Mickey could feel his breath – and the hunger
behind it.

Then Drew started again on the buttons. One by one.