Chapter 36 Mickey
This is our last day. We both know it and neither of us says it until the afternoon.
Benji’s flight is tomorrow at noon. He’ll drive the rental to the airport, drop it at the counter, and be back in Miami by two.
We spend the morning in the loft. Coffee at the counter, side by side.
Benji on the stool, me in the chair, our elbows close enough to touch.
He’s scrolling his phone and I’m reading the news.
The silence between us is the comfortable kind.
Except today the comfort has a weight underneath it because today it has a clock on it.
He’s been quieter since the candy store. Since he said fine when I asked if he was okay. He said fine the way I say fine.
Benji’s been different since yesterday and I don’t know why. The visit with Mama was good. Mama liked Benji a lot. I could tell. Benji seemed comfortable with her too. Daddy was okay. Then Pier Park, the candy store. He said he was fine.
I push the thought away. The morning is good, he’s here, and the flight isn’t until tomorrow.
After lunch we go to the deck. Benji kicks off his shoes and puts his bare feet on the planking and tips his head back against the chair.
“I don’t want to leave tomorrow,” he says.
“Then don’t. Stay here longer with me.”
“I have a venue walkthrough Wednesday in Coral Gables. A couple who wants a sky lantern release during the first dance. Two hundred lit lanterns floating up over the reception. It sounds romantic until you remember that a sky lantern is a small open flame attached to a paper bag and the venue is surrounded by live oaks and the fire marshal has opinions.”
“That sounds insane. Two hundred open flames?”
“I know, right? I’ve been trying to talk them out of it for three weeks but the bride saw it on Pinterest and now it’s her entire personality. I need to find an alternative that gives her the same visual without burning down Coral Gables.”
“Your job is insane,” I tell him.
“It is and I love it. But I love this deck more right now.”
He reaches over without looking and finds my hand on the armrest. His fingers thread through mine. The contact is automatic, the way our hands have learned to find each other all the time now. I hold on because tomorrow his hand will be in Miami and mine will be on this armrest.
“We need to talk about how this is going to work,” I say.
“How what works?”
“This. Us. The distance. The flying. How we do this when you’re there and I’m here and there are six hundred miles between us.”
He turns his head and looks at me. His eyes are serious. He’s wearing a plain white shirt that’s mine, too big on him, the collar hanging off one shoulder. He looks younger in my shirt. The eyeliner is smudged and he hasn’t fixed it.
“I’ve been thinking about it,” he says. “The logistics.”
“Tell me your thoughts.”
“I can fly up twice a month. Fridays to Mondays. That gives us long weekends when I don’t have a wedding to do.
I can shift most of my client meetings to Tuesdays through Thursdays and do the rest by phone.
I’ve been researching something else. The wedding market here is real.
The 30A corridor is blowing up for destination weddings.
The market is open for a high-end planner and I could build something solid here. ”
“You’ve already looked into this?”
“Yeah, I’ve been looking into it since we met actually.
I do the research at two in the morning when I can’t sleep.
I’m lying in bed thinking about you and the only way to stop is to start planning.
And then the planning turns into market research and the market research turns into a business plan. ”
“Do you have a business plan?” I ask.
“Yeah, it’s on my laptop.”
“Okay, about the flights,” I say. “I’m buying all of them. Every time. Don’t argue with me about it.”
“Mickey, you can’t buy a plane ticket every two weeks on a cop’s disability pay.”
“I have savings. Nine years of overtime. I can buy the tickets.”
“We’ll split them.”
“We’ll talk about it.”
“That’s your way of saying you’re going to buy them and not tell me until the confirmation email lands in my inbox.”
“That’s exactly what that means.”
He shakes his head but he’s smiling.
“There’s something else,” I say. “I need to talk to you about going back to work.”
“Your work? As a cop?”
“Yes, what’s left of my work. I can’t sit here and watch the water forever. I’m not built for it. My brain needs a job. I need to be useful. I’ve worked ever since I was a kid doing something. I’m not meant to be a deadbeat. Even if the money is still coming in.”
“What are you thinking about doing?” Benji asks.
“The department has desk positions. Investigations, case review, evidence analysis. I was a patrol officer and I loved doing that, but I have a brain that’s wired for detective work.
I always wanted to move into investigations and I never did because patrol was what I knew and loved.
I’ve already talked to the sergeant. He’s looking into what’s available.
He seemed confident that a position would come up soon. ”
“Mickey. That’s huge.”
“It’s not a firm job yet. But the conversation happened and the sergeant didn’t say no. He said let me see what we can do.”
“I love the idea,” Benji says.
“And I also need to get my truck fitted for hand controls. There’s a mobility shop in Tallahassee that does the conversion.
Steering knob, left-hand accelerator and brake, the works.
Once that’s done, I can drive myself. To physical therapy, to work, to Mama’s house, to the airport to pick up my boyfriend.
I can stop relying on Tex for every trip. ”
“How long does the conversion take?”
“Two weeks once they get the parts. I’m on the list. Steve is writing the evaluation letter and the department insurance covers most of it because it’s a work-related injury. I could be driving by the end of the month.”
“You’re going to drive yourself?”
“That’s what I’m planning on. And then I can drive you on a date. How would you like that?”
“I’d love it, Mickey. Okay, so here’s the plan.
Flights twice a month. You go back to work doing investigations from a desk.
You drive your own truck with hand controls.
I start looking into building a wedding business on 30A.
I convince Dante to keep researching real estate on 30A which won’t be hard since he won’t stop talking about it.
If I could lure Dante to be here some, then he could help me when I invariably get into trouble with problem brides.
And you and I continue to talk every night same as always.
We see each other every two weeks. And somewhere in the middle of all that, we figure out the rest.”
“That’s a lot of plans,” I say. “And they’re good plans.
But I need to tell you something that isn’t a plan.
Come here.” I put the armrests down and reach for him.
He slides off the chair and onto my lap, sideways, his legs over the armrest and his arm around my neck.
His weight settles against me and I pull him in closer because closer is what I need right now and because I can feel him holding something back.
I don’t know what it is but I know it’s there.
“What is it?” he says, burying his face into my neck.
“I’ve never done this before,” I say. “Any of it. I’ve never had a relationship with a man that lasted longer than a few months.
I’ve never introduced someone to my mother.
I’ve never had someone’s clothes in my closet or their plant on my stand.
The longest I’ve ever been with a guy was four months and that ended because I couldn’t let him in.
He told me I had a wall and he was tired of standing on the other side of it and he was right. ”
Benji’s fingers are on the back of my neck, barely moving.
“I don’t know how to do this,” I say. “I know how to be a cop. I know how to clear a room and write a report and work a twelve-hour shift without complaining. I know how to be tough and how to be alone and how to keep the personal separate from everything else. I’ve been doing that forever.
That’s a lot of years of practice at keeping people out and about five minutes of practice at letting someone in. ”
“You’re letting me in right now,” he says.
“I’m trying. And I might get it wrong. I’m going to do things that hurt you and not know I did them.
I’m going to go quiet when I should talk.
I’m going to pull back when I should reach for you.
That’s not because I don’t want you here.
It’s because this is all brand new to me and I don’t know how to do it, but I want to. ”
He snuggles closer into me and his eyes are bright.
“The desk job and the hand controls for the truck,” I say.
“That’s not just about independence. I need to be a man you can be proud of.
Not the man in the chair who watches the seagulls while you build a career.
I need to work. I need to drive. I need to pick you up at the airport and take you to dinner and be the guy who planned something for you instead of the guy you planned everything for.
You’ve been doing all the reaching, Benji.
I know that. I see it even if I haven’t said it. I know you’re aware of it too.”
“Mickey —”
“Let me keep going. I’m not good at this part and if I stop, I won’t start again.
” I take a breath. “You brought me food every day. You drove two hours each way. You brought a plant to make my room livable. I never once asked you to come because I didn’t know how to ask and I didn’t think I deserved it.
But you came anyway. And I need you to know that I’m going to figure out how to be the man who shows up for you the way you’ve been there for me.
I don’t know how to do it yet. But I’m going to learn. ”
His forehead drops against mine and his fingers are tight on the back of my neck.