Micah Johnson Goes West

by Sean Kennedy

  “But you’re surviving?”

  Kyle let out a triumphant whoop; up ahead, someone was pulling out of a parallel parking space. He flipped on his indicator to make sure everybody know it was their spot, and theirs alone. He shot a glance at Micah. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

  “You don’t sound a hundred percent certain.”

  “Neither do you.”

  “Maybe I’m not.”

  A look of concern crossed Kyle’s face, but at that moment a car horn sounded and he realised the spot was now empty and he was holding up traffic. Micah bit his tongue and wished he had never given voice to what he thought. It made him feel weak, and that was the last thing he wanted to seem in front of Kyle.

  Kyle steered the car into place with ease, and left the engine running to safeguard against the heat outside.

  “You’re not?” he finally asked.

  Even though they had only gone out for a short time (far shorter than either of them had wanted it to be), Micah felt more relaxed around Kyle than anybody else other than his family, and Dec (and he guessed, Simon, after they had gotten to know each other more). So it was easy to open up to Kyle, even if he had lied to him only minutes before. “I know it should get better, at least eventually, but I’m so fucking lonely at the moment. I don’t really know anybody except my host family, and the youngest brother there hates me….”

  He trailed off. He hated that Kyle was looking at him with pity.

  “I get it,” Kyle nodded. “I was there myself.”

  “Was?”

  “It is getting better now. And it will for you too. You’re forgetting I know you, and you find it difficult to get along with people at the best of times. But that’s because you close yourself off. And you’re probably doing that in Perth.”

  Kyle didn’t even know the half of it. What would he think if he found out the only way Micah could feel close to someone was if he was fucking them? And even then, it only lasted as long as the sex actually did. Micah tried to get out the door before the condom was even disposed of. Kyle would probably tell him he wasn’t judging him, but he would be. Micah knew what he was doing; it was clichéd textbook psychology. Freud would have sent him on his way, saying his diagnosis was too mundane to deal with.

  But he heard himself saying, a trifle hollowly, “It’s like you know me.”

  Kyle grinned. “Yeah, I guess I do. So you’ve got to put yourself out there a little more. Otherwise you’ll be miserable the whole time you’re there, and that could be years, thanks to your contract.”

  “Not really feeling any better.”

  “You need a friend, Micah. It’s that simple.”

  “It’s not, though. I’ve got friends.” Micah was thinking of Sam and Daril, but could he really claim them as friends? Friends required intimacy; at the most they were mates. And that was probably more his fault, because it wasn’t like Sam hadn’t been trying his hardest to be his bestie/surrogate older brother. And Micah pushed him away at every opportunity. “I need more than that. I need someone to be with, someone to go on dates with, watch TV with, kiss, fuck, make love. I need a boyfriend.”

  He was sure his longing for Kyle was emblazoned across his face, but he wasn’t even looking at him right now.

  Kyle was looking down at his lap and shaking his head. “I would focus on something other than that right now. You need stability, not a relationship that could break up at any minute.”

  Micah knew what he needed. Or, at least, wanted. Before he could talk himself out of it, he threw himself at Kyle, his hand snaking around his neck and bringing him in closer. He kissed him hungrily, and was relieved when Kyle responded after a brief hesitation.

  And it lasted just as briefly. For all of about two seconds.

  Kyle then pulled away, the distance between them unbearable.

  “What’s wrong?” Micah asked.

  Kyle looked shaken. “Micah, what are you playing at?”

  Bewildered, Micah gaped at him. “Playing?”

  “We broke up, remember?”

  “It’s not something I would forget.” Now that embarrassment had set in, the usual Micah defence mechanisms had come into play. Maybe Kyle was right, and he was playing after all. Just a kiss and a fuck, that’s all he wanted.

  It was easier to try and make himself think that in retrospective.

  “It’s just….” Kyle sighed. “Okay, I didn’t want to tell you like this, but I have a boyfriend.”

  If Micah had been in a movie, this would have been the part where the dolly zoom shot occurred—Micah’s face remaining in focus while the background zoomed into him for a disorientating effect. He swallowed with difficulty. “That… could have been something you brought up before I kissed you.”

  “I didn’t think you were going to try and kiss me!” Kyle protested.

  The heat in his face rising, Micah went on the attack. “Then maybe you shouldn’t have kissed me back!”

  “I didn’t—” Kyle broke off. “Okay, that was wrong. I guess I did start kissing you back.”

  That’s big of you to admit. “What would your boyfriend think?”

  He wanted to wound him, and hit the mark. Kyle looked shaken.

  “You don’t have to be an arsehole about it, Micah.”

  “Who’s being an arsehole?” He was being relentless, though. “I’m just asking a question.”

  “I didn’t think. It was almost like….” Kyle struggled for the right word. “A habit?”

  “Thanks. You’re making this so much better.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m trying to explain… just, I kissed you back without thinking, because I was used to it, and I’ve missed you, and maybe my body reacted before my brain did. But it was a mistake.”

  “If it was such a mistake, why did you even invite me out?”

  “Is it so bad to want to catch up and see how you’re going?”

  “If you have a boyfriend, it might be,” Micah pointed out. “I bet you he wouldn’t have liked you seeing your ex.”

  “Maybe he’s mature.”

  “Oh, really? So he gave his blessing?”

  Kyle’s silence revealed everything.

  “I’m sorry for kissing you.” Micah threw open his door. “But I’m even sorrier you kissed me back. You’re right. This was a huge fucking mistake.”

  “Where are you going?” Kyle asked.

  “Not for fucking coffee!” Micah was now out the door and ready to slam it.

  “Micah, get back in the car!”

  “I’ll find my own way home.” Maybe he was being childish. But Kyle shouldn’t have kissed him back if he had a boyfriend. And let Micah start to open up in the way he had. If it was a mistake even coming here in the first place, it was even more of one to let people get an insight into your feelings.

  Kyle stayed in the car; he didn’t come after him.

  But Micah wasn’t expecting him to.

  IT WAS a treat to be riding in a tram again. It was something so uniquely tied to Melbourne, and he hadn’t even realised he had been missing them until one came gliding up on the tracks, sounding its little warning bell. Of course, these were newer streamlined models, not like the old green and gold claptraps that people got nostalgic over (and still were emblazoned on postcards even though the majority of them were retired). But they still felt familiar and, oddly, safe. Stepping onto one was like coming home, especially when the doors seamed to hermetically seal him into its warm little cocoon.

  The familiar lurch as the tram took off made him momentarily lose his balance. He grinned to himself, grabbing one of the straps overhead for support. Heading for the back, Micah pulled out his headphones and brought up his “depressed” playlist on his iPod. It seemed to be his most played selection, judging by the numbers against the songs. There was nothing like a bit of James Vincent McMorrow or Bon Iver to suit his current mood (even if it seemed to be his permanent mood lately). Shouldn’t it be raining? Heavy droplets running down the tram window, much like the te
ars in his heart?

  Man, I can really turn the purple prose when I want to.

  His pocket was buzzing. Looking at his phone only confirmed that it was Kyle trying to get hold of him. Micah sent it to voice mail, but after a few seconds it began to ring again. Kyle’s face stared up at him once more, a photo taken when they were still a couple and Kyle was mocking Micah for wanting a photo to go with his profile. And he still hadn’t changed it. “Boif” came up as Kyle’s name, a cutesy nickname for “boyfriend.” How fucking stupid was Micah? He’d have to change it to “Bastard.”

  “Look dramatic,” Micah had told Kyle back in the days when he thought things would last no matter what.

  Now Kyle just looked mean.

  Micah knew it wasn’t fair to attribute that trait to him, and he slipped the phone back into his pocket where it continued to buzz mercilessly. Kyle hadn’t done anything wrong, except, perhaps, his timing. He should have told Micah on the drive to Fitzroy that he was seeing someone. That way Micah wouldn’t have humiliated himself. Or even before that—he couldn’t have said something while texting him continuously? And somewhat flirting with him at the same time?

  But was he flirting? Or just being friendly?

  Oh fuck, Micah didn’t even know anymore.

  The song ended, and he decided he had tortured himself enough. He wrapped his headphones around his iPod and stuck it back in his jacket pocket along with his phone. He looked up to see a couple had sat themselves across from him, and the girl was staring at him with that expression he instantly recognised—she knew him. Not personally, but she knew who he was. Fame, or somewhat fame, was still new to Micah and he scrunched down in his seat wishing he had his hoodie up. Better to look like a hooligan than an AFL player in the town that had given birth to the sport.

  “Excuse me,” she said.

  “Yep?” Micah asked, in a tone he hoped didn’t invite familiarity. This was not a good time.

  “It’s just,” she nudged the guy next to her. “Doesn’t he look like that guy?”

  “What guy?” her boyfriend replied, irritated.

  “You know, the guy!”

  “Oh, that guy.” He nodded at Micah. “You look like the guy.”

  “You don’t have to be so bloody sarky,” she pouted.

  “Well, I don’t know who you’re bloody talking about!” he said, and turned his attention back to Micah. “Who are you?”

  “Nobody,” Micah replied, wishing he were anywhere else.

  “No, you’re the guy,” the girl repeated with satisfaction. “The gay guy!”

  A look of recognition dawned upon her boyfriend’s face. “Oh, yeah?”

  Micah played dumb. “What gay guy?”

  “The one who plays for the Dockers. But he comes from here. Sorry, I’ve forgotten your name.”

  “Oh, him?” Micah asked. “I get that a lot. I’m not him.”

  “You didn’t say his name,” she pointed out suspiciously.

  “Yeah, nah, I know the guy you mean. The gay guy.” Yeah, nah? Oh gods, he was becoming a true Perthite.

  The girl nodded, but neither she nor her boyfriend looked convinced.

  They left him alone, to sink into the mire of obscurity and he pulled his iPod out again and retreated back into his music. Better to shut the world out than be mistaken for “that guy.”

  His phone buzzed again, sending volts into his skin and deadening his heart; Micah didn’t even look at it this time.

  “YOU’RE BACK early!” his mother greeted him as he walked in the front door. She peered around him expectantly. “Is Kyle not coming in? I didn’t even hear the car.”

  “No,” Micah said shortly. “Kyle is most definitely not coming in.”

  Joanne led him to the lounge and sat him down as if he were incapable of doing it himself. “What happened?”

  “What you probably thought was going to happen.” He knew he was throwing it back at her, even though it wasn’t her fault. But he hated that her suspicions were correct. Micah had been practically skipping out of the house like he was on a date, when it actually was just two exes trying to have a friendly coffee before the bomb dropped.

  What bullshit. It was probably better for exes to just stay away from each other and pretend it had never happened. There was always going to be one more wounded than the other. They had thought they were grownups in breaking up amicably, but Micah was still as immature as he ever was, hoping it was all a temporary setback.

  Kyle had moved on; he was now having the relationship he should have had with Micah. And what did Micah have? Some Grindr hookups. And not even ones he had enjoyed after the fact.

  Not that he could tell his mother any of this. She would be horrified.

  His mother rubbed his shoulder. “Did you think you would be able to pick up where you left things?”

  He didn’t want to talk about it.

  “Micah, talk to me.”

  “Do I have to?”

  “It might make you feel better.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “It can’t be any worse than keeping it all in. Don’t you remember how that made you feel last year?”

  He didn’t need that thrown in his face either. Especially when it would be another thing she was a hundred percent correct about. So he counted to three in his head before answering. Exploding was the old Micah’s way. “Yep.”

  “Okay, one word. Progress.”

  “Is it wrong to have hoped maybe we could?” Micah broke his three-word-maximum responses, and immediately hated the way he sounded—his voice cracking, reeking of desperation and loneliness.

  “Not at all,” Joanne said. “It’s just probably unrealistic. You both made a very mature decision last year in an effort to avoid prolonging the pain.”

  “And he did it very easily.” Micah chose to ignore that he had been doing the same, just on a less emotional and more physical level.

  “What, did you want him to be miserable and single for the rest of his life?”

  “Is that too much to ask for?” He couldn’t help but grin a little. But he couldn’t feel any warmth behind it.

  His mother, however, seemed relieved that he was slipping back into his usual form. “Well, I think he should have been unable to live without you as well. But I’m your mother, so I’m biased.” She paused, and asked hesitantly, “Is there not anybody in Perth that you’re maybe interested in?”

  “Mum!”

  “I’m just asking.”

  “There’s no one. I’m either surrounded by straight guys with their WAGs, or they’re single and shagging every weekend. It’s either shagging or long-term commitments and marriage and babies. It’s all so… straight.”

  “I’ll try not to be offended by that.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Maybe there’s like, I don’t know, a gay book club or something you can join?”

  Micah had to really hold in the bellow of laughter threatening to erupt.

  She read him anyway. “Okay, laugh at your poor mother.”

  “I’m sorry, Mum, but a gay book club?”

  Shaking her head, she looked a little defensive. “I’m sure there must be one somewhere.”

  “Maybe here. But not in Perth.”

  “What? You’re saying Perth people don’t read?”

  “I’m sure they do,” Micah agreed, feeling that he should defend Perth people a little bit at least, seeing he was now considered one of them. “But the gay scene there is small enough without hoping for a book club to be part of it.”

  “I just want you to be happy.”

  He repressed telling her that it was an impossible task at the moment. He didn’t want her to worry, which he knew she did anyway. Three thousand kilometres between them only made it worse. It was kind of ironic to think that he was incapable of running away to Lorne last year, and that was in the same state—and now he was three thousand kilometres away without even trying. And being paid for it.

  “I know
you do,” he said. “And I will be.”

  He hoped it would come true.

  “Okay,” Joanne said. “I choose to believe you.”

  So maybe he wasn’t hiding it as well as he thought he was. He knew his mother probably felt just as helpless as he did—after all, what could she do about it? Put a call in to the AFL CEO, requesting a special transfer for her baby boy? When he was just having to do something heaps of boys his age did every year across Australia, and thousands more would kill to be one of the privileged to do so?

  “Believe me,” he lied.

  MICAH STRETCHED out on his bed and checked his phone. Kyle had stopped trying to call him; there were no more missed calls from his number. Part of him was disappointed, even though he knew he shouldn’t be. What right did he have to expect Kyle to keep chasing after him?

  However, there was a message: I wish you would talk to me. You might not believe it, but I still care about you and I’d hate it to end like this.

  But Micah had to be ruthless. Pining wasn’t getting him anywhere—it was just making him even more depressed. He had to be proactive.

  He reached for his iPod and scrolled through the list of artists. He found the Pet Shop Boys and didn’t even listen to the song Kyle had gifted him with such love only a couple of months ago. He swiped to the left and the delete button appeared.

  One simple press, and “Go West” would be gone.

  If only his thought of Kyle could be erased as easily.

  His thumb hovered over the delete option.

  Remember. Ruthless.

  He swiped to the left, and the song disappeared.

  Closing his eyes, he fell back onto his bed. Kyle immediately appeared, and no matter how much he wished him away, he was there until Micah fell asleep.

  IN A way, it was a relief to go back to Perth. Sam picked him up from the front of the airport, looking flustered as a parking inspector hovered menacingly around his window.

  “See, there he is!” Sam said triumphantly. “Told you!” To Micah he yelled, “Hurry up! This guy’s trying to fine me!”