A tiny surge went through Micah’s heart. Maybe hewashelping. Although he was a hypocrite, becausehewasn’t moving on. Everett and Ximena would say so. Otherwise he would be in therapy and checking his mail. “Do you have a grave somewhere?”
Cosmo leaned back on the bed. “What a strange thing to ask. How did you know?”
It seemed obvious, but before Micah could reply, Cosmo said, “At the end of Cherry Lane. But there’s nothing inside but my disillusions. Let’s promise each other something. We won’t be hung up on the past. We’ll move forward, unafraid of the future.”
“I can’t keep that promise.”
Cosmo tugged on his bottom lip, staring at the space between his feet. “Then we promise to try. Please. We’re haunting ourselves, darling, and it’s not a good look.”
“Haunting ourselves.”
Was that what Micah was doing? Haunting himself in this studio with the door locked and curtains drawn? When had he actually gone somewhere? He thought about doing it all the time – heading to the aquarium, the theater, going out on dates. But he always made excuses not to. When was the last time he’d traded houseplant propagations with someone or actually bought a muffin from the coffee shop on the corner? The farthest he’d been in weeks was taking trash to the dumpster.
His therapist said his trauma had turned into agoraphobia, and Micah had scoffed. He wasn’t afraid of going outside, he was afraid of letting peoplein. And yet… He never left unless he had to.
“Are baby steps okay?” he asked.
Cosmo smiled, his pearly teeth floating in the dark. “I think that would be just fine.”
“Okay. Then I promise.”
“Good. As do I.” Moonlight pierced Cosmo’s face, diffusing him into a frantic mist. Micah reached for his hand, hoping to keep him there a little longer, but he snatched at empty air.
“Thank you for the stimulating chat, handsome. I’ll let you go back to sleeping like the dead.” Cosmo’s laugh faded into the dark.
It took Micah a long time to fall asleep.
In the morning, he walked outside, locked the door, and headed down the steps to the sidewalk below. A muffin. He was going to buy a muffin. No, two. And a coffee. There was nothing monumental about it, but the tightness in his chest eased as he pulled in crisp fall air and the perfume of Ximena’s rose bushes. She stood on the sidewalk, prodding at a sprinkler head in the grass.
“Buenos días.” Micah stuck his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Something wrong?”
Her mouth fell open. “Buenos días, mijo! The timer on these sprinklers isn’t working. Not coming on when they should. Where are you off to?”
“The Seventh Circle of Java. It’s a pain to avoid the pitchforks and open flame pits, but they have the darkest roast you can get.”
“Sounds wonderful.”
“Do you want something? Coffee? A muffin? Only costs your soul.”
“Is that all? It so happens I have a couple extra from tenants who were late on rent. Not doing me any good. I’d love a latte and a blueberry muffin.”
“You got it.”
She squeezed his arm. “Micah!”
He chuckled. “What?”
“It’s just… so nice to see you out and about this morning. You look well.” There wasn’t any pity in her face today; instead, her smile threatened to burst at the seams.
“I feel pretty good.”
“Has the music at night stopped?”
“I haven’t heard it in a while.” He thought of the slender fingers on Cosmo’s hands. Of Cosmo calling himdarlingandhandsome. Maybe he wouldn’t complain so much the next time Soft Cell started up.
“Oh, I’m so glad,” she said. “I sent out another memo. This one must have gotten through.”
“It must have. Thank you.”
