CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN Cooper
Ipaused at the top of the stairs, turning back to Mikey’s room.
Something wasn’t right. I wasn’t an expert on much but I knew my best friend inside and out.
Mikey was my person. We shared a connection unlike any I’d witnessed in my nearly eighteen years.
Something was off and I’d get him to spill the beans eventually.
I shrugged and exhaled, then headed down the stairs, two at a time.
“One of you boys is going to slip and fall one of these days,” Mrs. H. said. “Be careful on those stairs, Cooper.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I replied, scooting into one of the four chairs.
The missing place setting wasn’t lost on me.
I missed Mikey’s dad too. It hadn’t gotten past me that he’d just asked if his dad was here.
He must’ve had a bad dream. Mr. H. was the best father and Mikey had been a mess right after he died.
His death was less than a year ago and Mikey seemed to be in a better place, but maybe he was still grieving. I’d ask him later.
“You wake him?” she asked, setting a plate of scrambled eggs next to a two-pound pile of bacon.
“I think he might be sick,” I said. “But his forehead was cool,” I added nonchalantly, like I was a medical expert and chief of all things Mike Hill.
“Were his eyes red?” she asked with her back to me while she put a frying pan into the sink when she referred to Mikey’s allergies.
“Nope. All clear,” I replied. “No sniffles either. Spring is pretty much gone so we’re clear of the pollen,” I added, giving both a seasonal update and an allergy status.
Mrs. H. turned around and looked at me. Leaning back against the sink she shook her head from side to side.
“You are really something, Cooper.” She brushed a crumb from her floral blouse and then moved to my side of the table.
She leaned over my shoulder and wrapped me in her arms. Her smell matched her blouse, floral.
“He loves you just as much, Cooper,” she whispered in my ear.
“You sure?” I asked, needing confirmation.
“I’m positive. A mom knows these things about her son.”
“Just not in the same way,” I reminded her, squeezing her arms tightly. “Not like I wish he did anyway.”
“Maybe not the same, son, but sometimes one doesn’t understand everything about our choices early in life. Why don’t we just continue loving him and let him find his way?” She stood and was rubbing my shoulders when we heard footsteps on the stairs. We both turned in unison.
Mikey smiled sheepishly at both of us. “Good morning,” he said, heading for his usual spot across from where his dad normally sat, but he stopped halfway and went to his mom.
He pulled her into his arms and hugged her.
I could see Mrs. H’s face from my angle and she looked taken aback for a second.
Mikey pulled away and held her at a short distance. “You look pretty, Mom.”
“You don’t get any more bacon than I do,” I quipped, wondering what was happening.
Mikey and his mother were close, but I hadn’t seen them hug in months.
I stood and moved him out of the way before pulling Mrs. H.
into a bear hug. “I love you just as much,” I said, scrunching my face at Mikey as he watched us.
Mrs. H. pulled away and swatted her hands toward both of us.
“Well, well, well. This is certainly a mother’s dream come true.
My two handsome boys showering me with their affection,” she stated.
“And you say I look pretty?” she asked. “You still don’t get a car,” she added, winking at me. “Now sit down and stuff your faces.”
“I love you, Mom,” Mikey said, pulling his chair out and sitting down, not taking his eyes off of his mother. “I mean it.”
I watched his mother light up like a Christmas tree.
He was sincere and his words were so pure.
Mike had confidence that I envied and was heartbreakingly handsome in my eyes.
A lot like his father, he was tall with broad shoulders, blonde with gold-tinted skin that would soon be bronze as summer was nearly here.
We were about to turn eighteen and he was practically a man compared to me.
“You’re filling out, Coop,” he’d said last week when we showered at my place after a workout.
“I’m taller now but your dad is tall too, so you’ll grow some more.
You’ll see, buddy,” he’d added, squeezing my biceps and pulling me against him tightly even though we were naked. No wonder I was so crazy about him.
“Well, thank you, honey,” Mrs. H. said, waking me from my memory of us showering and from falling deeper in love with my best friend. “And I love you too. And you too, Cooper,” she added, handing me the bacon platter.
“What are you burning today, Mom?” Mikey asked her, motioning toward her ever-present incense. “I like this one,” he added, smiling at her and dishing up some eggs onto my plate while I held the plate of bacon, questioning his newfound interest in Mrs. H’s unique approach to the spirit world.
Mrs. H. raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms, looked at me and smiled before turning back to Mikey. “Honey, are we feeling okay this morning?”
“Yeah, honey,” I teased. “Something doesn’t seem right,” I pointed out, nodding in agreement with his mom.
“You look pretty, and the incense is nice,” he defended. “And I’m happy,” he added.
Me and his mom looked at each other because we were two peas in a pod when it came to taking care of Mike. “He’s happy,” I mimicked.
“I heard,” Mrs. H. added.
Mikey began laughing. His mood was contagious and we joined him. At first he appeared pleased, but his laughter suddenly turned into tears and weeping. He brought his hands to his face and leaned forward, crying harder until his mom stood up quickly and went to his side.
“Michael, honey?” she asked, trying to remove his hands from his face.
He gave in and leaned back in his chair, letting out a huge sigh when he caught his breath, his face a tear streaked mess.
I was stunned by his outburst. I was right. Something was wrong.
“What’s wrong, honey,” she asked, reaching for my napkin and dabbing his face.
He stared at me and then at his mom.
“Mikey?” I whispered. “What’s up?”
He opened his mouth but words wouldn’t come out. He took a drink of water and wiped his eyes, taking a moment. He let out a nervous laugh then cleared his throat. “I’m happy, is all,” he said softly. He stared at the empty seat across from him. “But I miss Dad. I hoped he’d be here too.”
Mrs. H. looked surprised by his statement. Mikey hadn’t spoken much about Mr. H. since he’d died. “You hoped he’d be here?” she asked.
Mikey just kept staring at the vacant chair.
“Oh, honey, I wish he was here as well. Your father is with us in spirit though. I know he is and always will be, son.”
Mikey reached for his mother’s hand. “I know he is too, Mom. I really think he is.”
“Thank you, son,” she replied. I noticed her tilt her head slightly.
She was as surprised as I was. Mikey didn’t talk much about spirits, incense or any sort of mumbo-jumbo his mom believed in.
He wasn’t unkind about it, but he and his dad had had a running joke about the odd woman they shared a house with for as long as I could remember.
He usually had a wisecrack whenever she brought up something he found a bit too out there.
“Sage, right?” he asked. “Dad liked that one, didn’t he?”
“Yes. Yes, he did,” she answered. “Everything okay, son?”
“It’s perfect, Mom. Like every Sunday with you and Coop.”
I wasn’t convinced he was perfect though. Something about Mikey was different and I was hell bent on finding out what that was.
“How was work last night?” I asked.
He hesitated and looked toward his mom. “You know . . . busy-ish . . . type, sort of thing,” he stated, unsure about his own words. “Nothing special really,” he added, reaching for more bacon and smiling nervously at both of us.
“I didn’t see you come home last night,” I said. “Did I miss Jen dropping you off or did you stay overnight with her and then come home early this morning?”
“Hardly,” Mrs. H. interjected. “There is no staying overnight at Jennifer’s house. You boys are still seventeen and I make the rules.”
“I walked home and used the backdoor,” Mikey interrupted the lecture, ending the discussion about sleepovers at Jen’s. “I forgot to wave at ya, Coop. Sorry, bro.”
“Okay, yeah,” I agreed, even though I knew he wasn’t being truthful. I knew he was hiding something because Jen had texted me at half-past midnight looking for him.
Mikey yawned and stretched his arms high over his head, exposing his ripped abs and a happy trail I wanted to hike.
I constantly had dirty thoughts about him even though I would never act on them.
Mikey thought I was somewhat pure, old fashioned, and shy.
Most of that was true, however I still had dirty and sexual thoughts about us all the time.
Those thoughts conflicted with the guilt in my heart about my feelings because I also deeply loved him and wanted to tell him the truth.
The love that Mikey had shown me my entire life through how he took care of me and protected me had always been enough for me.
I sometimes felt like I was in his shadow, but he always respected me and treated me as his equal even though he was better at practically everything.
He was more popular but still made sure to always include me.
Sometimes I think he was better at loving as well.
He was direct, honest and unmoved by people that questioned who we were to each other.
In my opinion, his approach was a risk considering his popularity, but he never cared nor did he defend himself against the chatter.
He’d once told me that what we shared was far more important than a bunch of bullshit chinwag.
I think he’d heard his dad use the word chinwag.
It was an odd choice, but definitely something Mr. H. would’ve busted out.
“Okay, all,” he began and started to clear the table. “I’m gonna take a nap for a bit. Late night,” he added.
I quickly stood and motioned for his mom to sit back down. “I got this, Mrs. H.,” I said. “You relax and I’ll clean up. Mikey, I’ll be up in a few.”
“Ummmm, I’m kinda tired, Coop.”
“Ummmm, and I don’t care,” I replied. “Be up in five.”
Mikey shrugged his shoulders and then headed to his mom’s side of the table where he kissed the top of her head. “Thanks, Mom. Great meal. Next Sunday can we make Dad’s fave?”
“Biscuits and gravy?” she asked, furrowing her brow in question.
He nodded.
“I’ve asked you a million times if you wanted biscuits and gravy, Michael.”
“Yeah, I know, but I’ve been thinking about Dad quite a bit lately. Can we?”
“Well of course, honey,” she answered.
“Do you remember that time I smushed his face into a plate of it?” Mikey asked out of the blue.
“He was so angry.” Mikey laughed out loud and made a show of wiping his eyes with his fingers and then his mouth like he was his father with a face covered in goo.
“And . . . and . . . then . . . ” he could barely continue due to his laughing.
“And then Dad licked his lips and went . . . mmmm, before throwing a biscuit across the kitchen at me.”
Mrs. H. teared up at the memory, smiling as the dam finally broke and cascaded down her cheeks. “What made you think of that, honey?” she asked.
“I dreamed about Dad last night, Mom. He was happy and waving at me.”
Mrs. H. sat up straight, her mouth agape. “You did?” she asked. “And where was he?”
“I’m not sure, but definitely some place nice, I think. He waved like all was good,” he said, smiling. “Seeing him was really nice.”
“Thank you for sharing that with us, son.”
With that, Mikey headed upstairs.
Mrs. H. and I turned and stared at each other, neither of us quite sure what we’d just witnessed.