The Son of Every Man

Chapter 5.2

Gabe felt Miguel's heartbeat directly against his ear. He could feel Miguel all around him, in fact: his arms, his chin resting on the top of Gabe's head, his leg wrapped partway around Gabe's—his hardness pressing slightly into Gabe's thigh.

"I'm sorry. I can't help it."

"I'm not ready," said Gabe.

"Of course not."

"I don't mind it, though."

"It'll go away."

"Miguel."

"What?"

"Did you ever see your parents again?"

"No."

"Do you miss them? Even after what they did to you?"

"Yeah." Miguel released a long sigh into the night air. "And in my experience, the only thing worse than missing someone is missing someone who doesn't want you."

"They probably miss you too." Gabe was speaking so softly that he was surprised Miguel could hear him over the static crashing of ocean waves.

"I doubt it. But even if they do...it's much easier to imagine they don't."

It was one of the saddest things Gabe had ever heard. He wedged himself more tightly against Miguel. "I know what I said before, but the truth is that I wish my mom was still here."

Thump, thump, thump went Miguel's heart. "I thought so."

"I wish they were both still here," said Gabe. "I wish things could have been good. There was never much hope for that—but I still wish they could have been."

"Me too."

"Miguel, I need to say something."

"Hmm?" (The inquisitive sound emanated from deep in his chest.)

"If we're really going to try and be friends, then I think we should keep a little space between us."

Miguel took the words literally, as Gabe had intended them, and not as a figure of speech. He had long since gone soft, but even so, he unwrapped his leg, still holding Gabe but effectively uncoupling their bodies.

It seemed the next move was up to Gabe. He lifted his head, looked briefly around, then left Miguel's arms, sitting on the edge of the chaise with his back to him. "It would be so easy for things to go a certain way, and right now, I'm not sure that's the best thing."

"I know," said Miguel, a curt tone returning to his voice—the same one he used at the warehouse. "You're right."

Gabe lay down on the mat below Miguel, staring straight up.

"Do you sleep out here?" Miguel asked him.

"All the time."

Miguel must have taken it as permission, because soon after, Gabe heard the faint sounds of his new friend's slumber among those of the restless sea.

I know you're out there. He wanted to speak the words aloud, to let the thick, moaning breeze carrying them high up over the rooftop gardens to the bare, rocky ridge of a foothill, along which the thing undoubtedly crept through the night. I know you're waiting for me.

;-;

Saturday, July 3rd, 1999

The phone gave a shrill cry around eleven in the morning, startling Gabe from sleep. Miguel didn't even stir. Gabe guessed it was the real estate agent with whom he had begun the process of listing the property. He rushed in to answer, was instead greeted by Eddie.