“Work,” he answered, sounding more than a little defeated. “This is Micah. He grew up with Jude and he’s back visiting. This is his dog, Sarge.” Pride lifted in his voice, and I tried my best not to let it get to my head. But it had been so long since anyone had spoken of me proudly, I didn’t know how to react, exactly.
I went with a lame, “Nice to meet you.”
“Marco,” the barber introduced himself. Turning his attention back to George, who was squatting down next to Sarge, Marco asked, “Let’s get you over here and get started.”
“Oh I’m not here for me today,” George explained, standing up next to me. He clapped a hand on my shoulder and chuckled lightly. “This mop is in need of a little cleanup.”
“All right then, Micah. You’re up.” Marco spun the chair around so I could sit. Sarge moved right by my side and looked up at me, clearly confused. “So what should we do?” Marco asked.
The way he was looking at me suggested he wanted to buzz it all off, but that reminded me too much of my childhood. As I sat in the chair, I looked at my reflection. And just as I expected, I didn’t recognize the man looking back at me. “Short,” I answered, needing to start over. Marco looked relieved at the word, and so did George. “I’ll leave the rest up to you and your expertise,” I ribbed, but the old man ate up the compliment.
“Perfect.” Spinning me around, Marco worked his magic. All I saw was hair flying. All I heard was scissors moving.
And through it all, I felt the weight of the last year lift from my shoulders.
As Marco worked, George chatted with him. It was as if he was a different man, animated and alive. Most importantly, he was sober. As I watched his eyes light up as he talked about Jude, something hit me hard in the chest. It was an epiphany of sorts. But at the same time, it was as if I recognized my own pain in someone else.
And as he continued to talk about what Jude and I did with him while we were there last weekend, and about how much fun he had at the dog park with Sarge, I couldn’t help but feel a deep-seeded sympathy for him. The sound of the buzzer faded away as Marco swiped the soft bristles of his barber brush over my neck, the cool air sending shivers over my skin. It had been so long since my hair hadn’t been covering my neck, and my eyes for that matter, I wasn’t sure if I’d like what I saw when he spun me around.
But as the chair moved, I couldn’t believe the man reflected back at me. “Holy shit,” I blurted, catching George and Marco, and clearly their tender sensibilities, off guard. “I mean, wow,” I corrected myself, running my hand over the buzzed hair at the back of my head. “Nice work, Marco.” There was a severe part running along the side, reminiscent of something out of the fifties, but he’d modernized it by leaving the other side long and slicked back.
“Now if you sit back down, I’ll give you a proper shave to match.” The tone of his voice suggested it was in my best interest not to argue with him. So I didn’t. George offered to take Sarge for a short walk outside and then give him some water. Again, I didn’t argue.
For the first time in what felt like forever, I was taking care of myself without having to worry about anyone else. Not that I was running out to get my nails done or anything like that, but I had to admit that when he lifted the hot towel from my face, I felt like a new man. He left a short, scruffy beard but it was neat and trimmed, looking unlike anything it had in the last year.
Just as I was finishing up at the cash register, and generously tipping Marco, George and Sarge walked back through the door. “Now there’s the Micah I remember,” George all but gushed, and I couldn’t agree more.
“How about lunch?” I asked as we walked back to the car. George agreed, and we decided we’d grab some subs and eat at the dog park so Sarge could enjoy some fresh air. It turned out to be a mild afternoon, and there was plenty of shade at the park to keep us cool.
As I popped the last bite of my sandwich into my mouth, George spoke and my world stopped spinning. “He’s not fooling me, you know?”
Choking on my own tongue, I spat out, “What?” I had a pretty good idea of what he was talking about, but this definitely was not the conversation I expected to have. The weather, The Rangers, Sarge, those were all acceptable topics. Jude’s sexuality, and my relationship with him—if that was what he was getting at—was certainly not on that list.
“Is he happy?” George asked, and the air filled my lungs again.
“I think so,” I answered honestly. “He loves his job. The students are great. The team is coming together for the fall.” Repeating everything Jude had told me since I’d been here, I felt like I was staying on safe ground.
He nodded, crumpling up the wax paper from his sandwich. As he crushed the ball tighter and tighter, I knew he wasn’t done. “Yeah, yeah. Work. Work. Work,” he rambled on, waving his hand in front of his face as if he was pushing away something disgusting. “What about the rest of his life?” Leaning forward, George shot me a look suggesting he already knew the answer. His eyes held mine in a “take no prisoners” stare. “Is he happy?”
The old man baited me into spending the afternoon with him so he could snoop on his son. Even I didn’t see that coming.
Recalling the last week or so we’d spent together, I confidently answered, “Yes. He’s happy.” But I couldn’t help wonder if he’d be happy once I told him about Delilah and Simon. Hell, I doubted I’d be happy when I told him about them.
Because at that point, I’d have to make a decision and no matter how happy I felt right now, I didn’t think I’d be able to recover from walking away from Jude.
“Does he have someone?” George’s words cut through my thoughts of Simon and how easily I walked away from him.
“What? I’m not sure—”
“He never brings anyone around. Well, there’s you. But there hasn’t been anyone since that other boy.” My interest piqued, I leaned forward on the picnic table. “I forget his name. Cowboy like. Bartender I think,” he rambled on, and I had an idea right away.
“Heath?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
Tapping the tip of his nose with his finger, George said, “Yep, that’s it. No one since him. And never any girls either.”
He was fishing, and I wanted no part of being caught. Especially since it wasn’t my story to tell. “Don’t you think this is a conversation you ought to have with Jude?” I suggested, trying my best to hide my eyes from his, afraid of what he’d see there.
“Don’t you think I would if we ever spent more than a few hours a week together? And most of that is spent doing shit around the house.” George sighed, obviously frustrated with the situation. He gazed out at the wide expanse of the park. Couples strolled through with their dogs. Kids played on the playground in the distance. It was ideal in every way, save the fact we were tiptoeing around the two-hundred-pound elephant in the dog park.
Not willing to let him off the hook that easily, I pulled his attention back to the conversation, tapping the table with my metal fingers. “And don’t you think he’d be able to spend more quality time there if he wasn’t always taking care of you?” George’s face went slack, turned ashy, his eyes shining with a world of emotion I didn’t even pretend to know about. “Look, I’m not saying I have all the answers. Fucking hell, if that’s not the furthest thing from the truth, I don’t know what the hell is.” He opened his mouth to scold me for my cursing, but I cut him off before he could say anything. “But I’m just the middleman here. You and Jude need to have a serious heart to heart. No more of this pussyfooting around everything.”
How different would my own life be if I could take my own advice?
Looking utterly defeated by everything, he hung his head low, resting it in his veined and gnarled hands. Unable to see him sink so low, I did what I could. “Why don’t you come over for dinner?”
His face lit up as a wide smile graced his old, thin lips. “Sure,” he answered simply, unable to hide the excitement in his voice.
Despite dodging that bullet, I knew another one was coming at me the second I stepped through the door, and Jude saw me with his father.
