Beantown Cubans by Johnny Diaz

Author:Johnny Diaz
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2010-10-15T04:00:00+00:00

After Mikey and I each eat a stack of pancakes topped with blueberries, strawberries, and banana slices at the IHOP, I drive him back to his parents’ house on the Marshfield-Duxbury border. The whole way, we talk about the accident, and I tell him how fun his parents are.

“I can see why you became an educator. Your parents seem to love what they do. How could you not be a teacher?” I say, driving on desolate Route 3 South.

“I used to visit my mom at her school and help her clean the chalkboard and decorate her room. It grew on me. And she’d let me help grade her papers. I felt like I was being groomed to pursue education from an early age, but instead of teaching, I went into counseling. I prefer to have small groups of kids or to be one-on-one,” he says, as the blur of the highway’s lightposts flash by behind his face in the passenger seat.

When we pull up to the colonial two-story house, I turn off the lights, and we sit inside the car. We both look at each other and look away. I grin with my mouth closed, even though a big old smile wants to break out.

“Tommy, I know I’ve thanked you about a dozen times, but I wanted to thank you again for tonight, for Providence and for everything.” His blue eyes glisten in the faint moonlight. I quickly look up through my Jeep’s front window, and I notice that the night sky is sequined with stars.

“Stop it! I would have done that for anyone!” I say, slouching in my Jeep’s bucket seat. I feel myself blushing.

“I know you would have done that for anyone who needed help. It’s the person that you are, but you did it for me, and that means the world to me right now.”

We sit there in silence, our eyes dancing with each other’s. And slowly, we lean toward each other. And then it happens. A sweet gentle kiss on the lips that makes my heart and spine tingle. Several more kisses follow until we pull away.

“Mikey…we shouldn’t.”

“Why? My feelings for you never went away,” he says, coming in for another kiss. I surrender to it.

“But…you shouldn’t be dating anyone. It’s your first year of recovery.”

“I know,” he whispers. “But my heart is telling me something else. I’ve got my drinking under control. My heart is another matter.”

We continue kissing. I taste remnants of the maple syrup on his lips.

I pull away again and create some distance on my side of the Jeep.

“I just want to support you, Mikey, and be your friend. I’ve read that alcoholics shouldn’t be dating someone in the first year of recovery because they have so much to deal with, and being emotionally involved with someone can only complicate matters. It’s not that I don’t care about you. You know that. I’m just trying to be the best supportive friend I can be.”

Mikey tilts his head and smiles.

“Tommy, I know you’re looking out for me, but I’m a big boy.

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