by Cherry Kay
“What d'you want to do today?” he asked me.
“Pardon me?” I was distracted.
He came back and bounced back onto the bed beside me.
“How about I take you to lunch?” he asked. “You can tell me all about the outcome of the party. Did the hotel staff believe that quiet, little Grace Danvers is engaged to marry a rich, restaurant owning, diamond giving stud in expensive suits?” He sang a few bars of the music for a suspense drama and we both started laughing.
“The saddest thing,” I said through the tears of laughter, “is when I have to tell them that I broke it off with you.”
“Now that's the thing they're never going to buy.”
“And why not?” I asked him.
“Because I'm a catch. If anything I should be the one breaking up with you.”
“So let me get this straight.” I looked at him with the best, serious face I could. “You saying I ain't no catch?”
“That's not what I'm saying. I'm just saying that I'm a better one.”
I grabbed one of his pillows and started hitting him, he grabbed the other and all out combat ensued. We fell off the bed and he rolled on top of me and started tickling me.
“No fair,” I shouted in between giggles, “I hate being tickled.”
“Okay then,” he said and reached for a pillow to start hitting me again. I saw a chance to escape but he grabbed for me and pinned my arms up while I was still on the floor. His lips were just inches from mine and his breath was warm on my face. I stopped laughing. He did too. We were silent and just stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity.
His body was jammed up against me and it was all I could do to stop myself from adjusting mine to a more comfortable position for making out, but instead I cleared my throat.
“I thought you were buying me lunch?”
“I am.”
He sprang to his feet and started looking for something. I sat up and fixed my hair so it was neat again. I looked over to Mikey who found a thick, V-neck sweater and pulled it over his head. He sat on the side of his bed and put on a pair of socks. I stood on the opposite side of the bed looking down at the thick but sophisticated neck as he bent to pull on his shoes. I could reach out and stroke it, his hair too, but what was I thinking? This was Mikey, my best friend and he'd run a mile if I went weird on him. I was weirding my own self out.
I sat to pull my boots back on.
“My jacket is in the bathroom,” I said opening the bedroom door.
“I put it on the sofa,” he said.
“Thank you,” I replied. We were being very civilized and I was feeling very confused.
Mikey treated me to a burger and asked if I wanted to come back to his place so we could continue to hang out.
“What time do the other guys get back?”
“They won't be back until much later. They're off doing their Christmas shopping. Frank will be at Macy's and Stewie will be at the thrift store. Both going to visit family for the holidays.”
“What about you? You going home to Boston again this year?”
“Not sure, I might have plans but then again it all depends.”
“Depends on what?” I asked as I grabbed for my last fry before he could demolish it, the way he always did,
“I might have other arrangements but they need to be confirmed.”
I left it at that. Like I said, Mikey never said much about what was happening in his life and I knew not to push it. If there was anything he wanted to tell me, he'd do it in his own time. In Mikey time.
We walked back to his place and Mikey had his arm around my shoulder. I put my arm around his waist for a change and we walked like that for the few blocks back to his apartment. I noticed how girls were looking at us, smiling at me as though they approved of my choice in boyfriend. That was what it felt like. Like Mikey was my boyfriend because out of nowhere it was beginning to feel like he was or that maybe he could be.
We had always hung out together, we were best friends, we knew each other's family background, favorite book, movie, color, star sign, and birthday. Heck, Mikey even knew my menstrual cycle. There was only one thing missing from this picture. He wasn't into me the way I was increasingly getting into him the more time I spent in his company.
I was into Mikey.
Back at his apartment, we played poker. I normally always beat him at poker because he had such an obvious show. This time I was too busy looking at the way his hair had no particular parting, at his wide hands that were still quite gentlemanly at the same time, and the way he pouted when he was thinking, he beat me hands down and was back to whacking me over the head with a pillow.
“Stop, Mikey.”
“Don't be a sore loser,” he grinned back at me.
“I'm not. You won fair and square, I just forgot to tell you something else about Mr. Iglesias.”
“What?”
“He said I should keep the ring.”
“Didn't I tell you?”
“I know, but I'm keeping it because he's my friend. He appreciates my friendship and values my opinions and listens to what I have to say.”
“Of course he appreciates you, Grace.”
We had been sitting on the floor in the living room to play cards. Mikey got all serious and was leaning very close to me as he spoke. Our eyes were locked together.
“He appreciates your honesty, your kindness, your humility and your strength,” he said, closer still.
“All the things I appreciate in you, Grace. Never change.”
“I won't.”
Without warning, our lips joined. Mikey leaned closer so that my head was back onto the seat of the sofa. He kissed me deeper and placed his hand on my neck, touching it just gently but making waves of electricity pass through me so that I pulled him even closer, arms around his neck.
We lay on the floor, his body partially on top of me as I began to pull his shirt out from the waistband of his jeans and then slip my hands under the shirt and run them along his stomach up to his chest.
I undid the buttons and rolled on top of him, kissing his chest, his neck and then his lips again. I sat up, astride him, and pulled off my sweater, I was wearing a tight fitting top with string sleeves. He sat up so that he could work the top off me until I was only in my bra. The hectic movements of our foreplay slowed. He pulled down one of my bra straps and kissed my shoulder. He ran his tongue up to my neck and then my ear, nibbling the lobe as I felt all control leave my body. He reached around and undid the hooks of my bra, holding me to his naked chest and stroking my back.
“Grace,” he whispered my name. “You sure.”
“Yes,” I said, but as we stopped to look into each other's eyes I shocked myself back to reality.
“No.” I got up quickly and hooked my bra before he'd even taken it off. I put my top on and sat on the sofa.
“We shouldn't, Mikey. I'm sorry. I started this.”
“Well it's not like I resisted.”
“But we're friends and we could spoil things. I'm sorry. I should go. I'm working tonight.”
“Don't feel guilty, Grace. Friends make out. It's natural. You get curious and, you know, stuff happens.”
“Forgive me.” I put on my sweater and boots while he buttoned his shirt and then flopped onto the sofa with his hands behind his head.
“It's not a big deal, Grace. Believe me.”
I put on my jacket and leaned to kiss his cheek.
“I'll call you,” I said and ran for the door.
I felt foolish. Why had I let it get that far?
I walked out into the dusk and sped along to my apartment to have a quick shower before my shift. It was, thankfully, a short shift, only a few hours to get through, then I could be back in my apartment and bury my head under the covers.
I played the words back in my head. Mikey had said, 'It's not a big deal,' and that friends 'get curious.'
That was all it was for him but I knew that in my heart it was a lot more. I w
ould find it very hard to carry on as normal with Mikey and with each step I took away from his apartment, I wished that I could run back to his arms.
8
It was just five days to Christmas. I'd avoided Mikey for days and I wondered if I could make it to New Year and not have to see him. I figured I could just avoid him and hope that the feelings I had for him would eventually fade and we could just go back to being best buddies again. Life was so uncomplicated then.
I kept blaming myself for telling that big lie about being engaged and needing time off for Christmas. If I hadn't lied then I wouldn't have needed Mikey, and Mr. Iglesias wouldn't have helped turn him into a male model and I wouldn't have gotten all hot and bothered by his transformation. Would I? Or would it just have been a matter of time before those feelings came out anyway?
It wasn't just physical, either. Yes, I'd seen Mikey at his physical best but there was more to it than that. I wanted to spend time with Mikey, as a friend as well as a lover. To discover what it would be like to be a girlfriend and not just one of the guys when I was with him. But it was clear this was all one sided and I just had to get over myself if I wanted him back as a friend. If I couldn't lose these feelings then I'd lose my best friend too.
I was leaving the hotel when I spotted Mr. Iglesias. He was singing to himself by the looks of it, as he walked along, looking up at the tall buildings surrounding us as the sun was sinking and evening was drawing in.
“Mr. Iglesias,” I called to him. “Going back to order your dinner?”
He seemed to jump from a daydream.
“Ah!” He exclaimed, opening his arms, his walking stick lifted high. “La Princesa Negrita! You finish work already?”
“Yes, I have.”
“Well come and join me in a coffee, maybe a little cake? I know a lovely place just a block away.”
I looked back at the hotel and the tall doorman nodding to the guest just walking down the stone steps in front of the hotel. Mr. Iglesias waved his arms.
“Oh, don't worry about protocol. You are off duty. I am off duty. Let's have coffee.”
He hooked my arm into the crook of his and walked me past the hotel on our way to this lovely place he knew. He was right, it was lovely and I never even knew it existed.
“So, Mr. Iglesias,” I said.
“Why not call me Edmundo? We are friends. Mr. Iglesias sounds like your college teacher or your boss.”
“Okay, Edmundo. I was just thinking, with all that walking around you do, you must have discovered so many little nooks and crannies around here.”
“The problem with nooks and crannies in New York is that they change so much. I discover one and then it closes down. I discover another and it gets bought out.” He laughed and took another mouthful of cake.
“My little indulgence once in a while,” he said, tapping his plate with the fork. “My doctor says I indulge too much but what is life if you don't live it to the full.”
“I suppose.” I put my head down and fiddled with my fork.
“¿Que pasa, Princesa? What happened, you been looking so sad these days.” He put down his fork and rested his chin on his hands.
“It's nothing.”
“It's love.”
“What?” I sat up and looked at him. “What are you saying?”
“That Mikey – where is he these days? What is he doing? Has he not picked you up after work lately?”
“He's tried but I've had to avoid him.”
“¿Porque?”
“Because I made a fool of myself in front of him.”
“I find that very hard to believe. What could you have done?”
“Well, we're best friends and I...”
“What, you want to be more than friends?”
“Is it that obvious?”
“Well, not to him.”
“He just thinks everything is the same as before. I've tried to make myself feel like everything is just like before but my heart won't let me.”
“Trust your heart, Grace.”
“But he doesn't feel the way I do. I can't make him.”
“Maybe he just needs time for the feeling to come his way. It would be great if the raptures of love could enslave us and the ones we want to love us all at the same time. Have you tried pursuing him? It's not unusual these days for the woman to court the men. That's the modern way, isn't it?”
“Sometimes. But this time I know it would be wasted. Mikey knows how I feel and he made it clear how he felt. Friends to the last – that's all he wants for us.”
“But friends become lovers all the time. It may well happen for you and your Mikey.”
“My Mikey, that's a laugh.” I let out a fake laugh and thought for a moment that Mr. Iglesias had found it funny too, he looked like he was smiling.
Then I realized that his expression wasn't what I thought it was. His eyes had screwed up and he was grimacing, not smiling. I saw that he was clenching his fist and pressing it, hard, to his chest. He was wheezing and spluttering.
“Mr. Iglesias!” I jumped to my feet and held his arm as he struggled to his feet. His eyes rolled back in his head and he fell forward on the table, everything on it went crashing over.
“Help!” I shouted to the bored looking boy at the counter. “Call an ambulance. He's having a heart attack.”
I tried to lay Mr. Iglesias down, but his body was heavy and he fell at my feet. I knelt down beside him, undid his scarf and opened the top buttons of his coat. I fanned him with a napkin as all the people in the coffee shop gathered around us.
“Is he alright?”
“What happened?”
And, “Oh my God!” was all I could hear.
“Miss,” the waiter knelt beside me. “The ambulance is on its way. They said five minutes.”
Fifteen minutes went by and eventually the medics arrived and bundled Mr. Iglesias into the ambulance. They let me in too, and I carried his fedora and walking stick. I sat opposite Mr. Iglesias, who was lying down and covered with a blanket. He looked over at me and smiled through the oxygen mask they'd placed on his face.
When we got to the hospital, they whipped Mr. Iglesias away and I tried to follow behind, but they wouldn't let me into the ER because I wasn't family. I sat outside in the hall and waited and waited.
About an hour later a skinny nurse came over to me.
“You Grace Danvers?”
“Yes.” I stood up, still clutching my friend's hat and stick. “Is he alright? Is he going to be all right?”
“He's asking for you.”
“But what does that mean?”
“It means he's fine and he wants to see you.”
“Oh, thank you.”
I followed her down a corridor and into the last room on the right. Mr. Iglesias was sitting up and smiling, the color was back in his face.
“Mr. Iglesias, you had me so worried.” I bent to hug him and held on to him for as long as I thought was safe for someone who had just had a heart attack.
“I am fine, Grace, completely fine. Isn't that right, nurse?”
“We will discharge him but we're just keeping him for observation for the next few hours. If everything is back to normal, then there is no reason why he couldn't go home.” The nurse smiled and left us.
I sat next to his bed and held his hand.
“I feel sleepy,” he said.
“Then rest. Have they called your daughter?”
“My daughter?”
“Yes, Penelope. Your daughter in New York.”
He looked down at my hand on his. He had a drip attached to this hand so I moved mine.
“You did remember her number, right?” I continued. “If not, give me her address and I'll look it up myself.”
“There is no need, Grace.”
“So she's coming?”
“No, she will not come.”
“But why? You two have a falling out?”
“No, she will not come because my Penelope is not here. I mean... Penelo
pe has passed away.”
I put my hands to my mouth. Then it occurred to me. Why did Mr. Iglesias always say that he'd come to visit her for Christmas? And, more than that, he told me once that Penelope and her husband were professionals with a three bedroom apartment, so if he were visiting them, then why didn't he ever stay there and not the hotel?
“Mr. Iglesias, when did your daughter die?”
