"Um... OK, but before you start there's just one more thing to make this all even more complicated." Drew interjected.
Mickey nodded his head. "You seem anxious Drew - are you OK?"
"Yeah, I am. I'm just, I guess, dumping a lot on you right now. I know it's not fair and all, but..."
"Just don't tell me you once had a crush on Dave," Mickey answered, his expression stern, his eyes fixed on Drew.
He tried to hold the pose, but after only a moment they both burst out into laughter. Drew even had to wipe his eyes he was laughing so hard. The mention of Dave's name practically made Mickey nauseous, but at least he could be useful as an object of derision.
"OK... anyway," Drew eventually replied before taking a deep breath and continuing his story.
"The trust also owns this condo. Well, technically, we don't even own it, it's on a long term lease. My dad insisted that I do all of the negotiations so I know all the terms. It expires at the end of next May, with a one-year option that would need to be exercised by the end of this semester."
"That, of course, is unlikely to happen," he continued, looking down at Daisy, who was leaning into his leg. "So at that time she and I are both officially homeless."
Mickey didn't say anything for a second, he just looked over at Drew and then down at Daisy. "Is that everything?" he asked.
"You mean, `are there any more surprises,' as my Dad would say." He gave Daisy a final, vigorous stroking and then sat back up in his chair and folded his arms across his chest.
Mickey chuckled before answering. "No, um... I mean yes, I mean is there anything else?" he asked, looking down at the table and smiling to himself.
"No, I think that's it, as if that's not enough. I know we'll make it, but... well... let me hear what you have in mind."
Mickey reached down with both hands on the sides of his chair and scooted himself closer to the edge of the table, adjusting the position so that his elbow splayed out on the table. He often used this position when jousting over knotty legal problems at meals with fellow students or even his professors. But the stakes here felt a lot higher.
"I'm going to be making a lot of assumptions, OK? We don't have to do it this way, but it's at least a start to getting this figured out."
"Assume away!" Drew replied as he reached over and poked Mickey in the forehead. He was trying to be playful, but the look of anxiety on Mickey's face could not be missed.
"OK," he said, before looking both ways in the room and biting his bottom lip. It was almost as if he imagined himself in court, pleading one of the most important cases of his young life.
"Even these days, the big law firms pay a lot of money for summer interns from our school and some of the other top schools. If we could live cheaply it would save a lot of money that we could then use to pay the taxes and some basic upkeep on the property."
He went on to describe how he thought that he could get a pretty good job in New York and that they could commute to work, returning back to their college town every night on the train, the last stop on the commuter railroad up the coast. If they lived frugally, they could save enough money to supplement Drew's savings and keep up the taxes and a bare minimum of maintenance on the property until they both had full time jobs. Things would be very tight financially for the next two years, but with planning and luck they could do it.
"The biggest hole in this, I think, is that I'm not sure what you want to do. I guess the plan was always to work in one of your Dad's companies, but that doesn't look like an option anymore."
"You're right, there's probably no position with one of the Patterson companies," he said, followed by a long exhale. "But if I wanted to, I think there are one or two of my Dad's former associates and partners who would take me on, if nothing else just to tweak him," Drew replied, his mouth cocked in a half smile.
"But before I dig into that, why do you assume New York? I mean, the commute is 90 minutes each way, and that's an expense itself. If we went back to your hometown, we could live a lot cheaper, and a young lawyer's pay is probably not all that different."
Mickey looked down at the table. "I really appreciate what you said about going back to Ohio and not settling in New York. But I didn't want to push you on that. I know it won't be easy for you, so maybe one more summer in New York would be something you'd like."
"Like I said. I just want to go where you want to go, Mickey. Casey isn't in New York, and without my Dad I really have no reason to go there. Not that it's not a cool place, of course. We can be tourists, and maybe go into town on weekends while we're still here," he said. His voice betrayed no hint of sadness or regret.
"But I'm ready to start real life, even if it's for a summer. I don't know if we could stay with your Mom, or if we'd have to get our own place for the summer."
"Oh yeah, you know what else?" he asked, his voice rising with excitement, "we could even go to the cabin in the summer and work on stuff and enjoy it during weekends. That would be really fun! And it's not over a three hour drive from your Mom's house."
Mickey looked at him. "You've looked it up?"
"Um... yeah," Drew answered, smiling. "Just, you know, wanted to be prepared."
The room was quiet for moment, the only sound a slight grumble from Daisy, fishing for a treat.
"If you could do that and feel comfortable, um... that would be great," Mickey replied. His voice betrayed what could only be called a sense of relief. "And I hope that I'm not speaking too soon, but I think she'd be thrilled to have us."
Would we be having sex by then? Could I even have sex in my mother's house? Would we make noise?' Mickey questioned himself silently. He looked at Drew, who seemed to be smirking. Can he read my mind? Shit! I'm driving myself crazy! I'd better change the subject.'
"By the way, how did your family come to have a place back there. I mean, you're so identified with New York and all."
"That's sure who my Dad is, but my Mom was from Virginia and her family had a lot of what I guess people would call `mining interests.' I think this land, and the whole county for that matter, turned out to be one of the lucky spots in Appalachia that didn't have much coal."
"At least lucky for us," Mickey said.
"I know," Drew responded. "Sometimes they'd just unload these unproductive properties or kind of abandon them. There isn't much good farmland down there, so if there's nothing valuable to pull out of the ground then there isn't much of anything to hold the interest of someone who wants to make money. But I guess it was my grandfather who saw the other worth in it and my Mom and her sibling spent all of their summers there, like I did."
"So if our kids did, too, that would be the third generation," he said. "I kind of like the idea that they could have the same experience that I did."
Mickey smiled back at him. "Me, too. It sounds idyllic for kids. I'd love for that to happen." He looked even happier about it than Drew did.
"Well, it sounds like we have a direction, huh?" Dew asked. "I mean, we need to ask your Mom and all, but..."
Mickey didn't wait for him to finish the sentence. "I don't think that she'll have a problem with it," he said. "I think the hard part will be leaving at the end of the summer."
Starting the after-breakfast cleanup, Mickey quickly oriented himself to the garbage can, sink, paper towel holder and other tools that he needed. The only item that he couldn't find right away was the recycle bin.
"Oh, I just collect things in a can underneath the sink, then I take it out when it's filled up. But there's no need to do that now, I can take care of it later."
"Hey, I'd better get used to where all this stuff is, right? I mean, that's if I'm invited back."
"That's up to Daisy," Drew replied as he carried an overloaded stack of plates and glasses and serving bowls to the sink.
Mickey smiled at how Drew had deflected the innuendo. But that was before he was surprised with a wordless kiss on his cheek.
Drew got to the range before he did, so Mickey slipped around and cleaned off the countertop on either side, which still smelled like scrambled eggs. He was able to consign most of the items to the sink or dishwasher, except for the empty pressed-paper egg carton.
Reaching underneath the sink for the recycle can, he found that it was already bulging with contents, from bottles to cans to cereal boxes. It would need to be taken out and replaced with a new one before the bulky carton had any chance of being put away.
"This is way full, Drew," he said as he placed the almost overflowing black plastic liner bag onto the counter. "I see the extra bags here next to the fridge. I'll replace it with one of those. Just let me know where I should haul this off to."
"Really, Mickey, there's no need to do that. I can take care of it later. It's probably not good to go out now anyway, there might be a stalker or a reporter at the recycle bins, you never know."
Mickey had a pretty good idea of the location, as the night before he had noticed what looked like a small utility screen just outside the kitchen window. "No worries, I think I pretty much know where it is. Besides, I think that it's inside the secure perimeter," he joked, "so they shouldn't be able to ambush me there," he replied.
"No, really Mickey, I can do it later, no worries. You can, um... just relax now, it's no effort at all for me to do later."
"That's why I can do it," Mickey replied. He was surprised at Drew's resistance for such a simple chore. Besides, he wanted to show that he would pull his own weight, and this was as a good place to start as any.
Without waiting for a reply, he lifted the bag with both hands and moved toward the outside door, not giving Drew the chance to intercept him.
"I really could to that later..." Mickey heard as he bumped the door closed with his hip.
It was a nice feeling to have Drew thinking of him like that, but he really did feel it was important to contribute. He probably could have used a light jacket, as the temperature had clearly taken a dip overnight, but the air felt fresh and invigorating.
As he approached the blue recycle bin from behind, he noticed that the top was half ajar. Perhaps Drew had forgotten to shut it after his last load, he thought. He remembered growing up that his family always had to make sure the lids on the garbage cans were tightly closed in case vermin or raccoons got in and scattered everything, a not uncommon occurrence in their part of town.
Wrapping one hand tightly around the bag, he used his free hand to flip the lid completely open. At first, he couldn't quite see into the container because of the almost overflowing bag right below his eyes. But then a bright reflection off of a piece of glass caught his eye.
As he peered over the edge of the bag, he suddenly realized that the bin was brimming with bottles and cans. Even though he didn't drink, he recognized the labels of well-known brands of whiskey and vodka, along with all sorts of different colors of wine bottles and silver cans of beer. The six packs were still full and some of the wine were still uncorked, while a few of the other bottles were completely empty.
And by the smell of everything the pile hadn't been there long. `What happened here?' he asked himself, as he futilely tried to figure out a place for his bag.
Just then, Drew's neighbor appeared, heading out her side door for the recycle bin on the other side of the fence.
"You can put those in my container here," she motioned with her free hand. "I think he filled up his own the other night."
"Are you sure?" Mickey asked. "I don't want to impinge, or anything. I can just take them back inside."
"Nonsense!" she protested. "Here, I'll just open the lid. If you can just reach over with your bag and drop them in that's all I'd need."
Luckily, it was mostly cardboard and paper and other light items, so even though it was a stretch to get over the fence he was able to drop them right in the center.
"Thank you so, much, Ma'am," he said as he pulled his hands back from the fence. "By the way, my name is Mickey Deringer. I'm Drew's... um... friend."
"Well, after everything on the news, you may not need any more introductions, young man," she joked.
`Does everyone know who I am now?' he asked himself.
Getting back to reality, he smiled back as he reached over to shake her hand.
"You know," she said as she lowered down her own blue cover. "Mr. Patterson filled that up the other night. He was in a state, I'll tell you," she said, the tone of voice sounding as if she had a long tale that she would like to tell.
"I've been here for 15 years, ever since the building opened. And, of course, Drew has only been here a short time. But I've never seen him, or many other people for that matter, look quite so upset. I didn't think that a big, confident guy like him could be so distressed," she said.
"It was late, so he probably didn't even know that I was awake. But he got back just after midnight and the next thing I knew he was throwing out all his liquor, everything, all of it. It looked like he had poured out some bottles, but there were probably too many so after a while he just brought out full ones, too."
"And not cheap booze, either. I know my Johnny Walker, and it was the good stuff," she said with a slight sigh. "But he just got rid of it all."
"Um... why was he... doing that?" Mickey asked. The time she described would have been just about when Drew had gotten back after walking him home.
"It was so strange; I really don't know. But I did hear him say something about, `never again,' but I don't really know what he meant by that. He didn't seem to have any kind of drinking problem, at least that I ever noticed."
"But I can't say the same for some of his friends, especially this one big guy," she continued. She went on to give rather colorful description a belligerent drunk that could only have been Dave.
"But like I said, it's just a mystery as to why he'd suddenly threw out all this stuff."
"Anyway, a lot of good booze wasted," she said with a smile. "But at least he seemed relieved when he got it all done. Like he'd gotten the weight of the world off of his shoulders."
Drew was leaning over the open dishwasher door, loading up the racks, when Mickey finally came back in.
Neither said a word until Mickey spoke.
"You don't need to do that, Drew."
"Do what?" he responded. It sounded like he was trying to be nonchalant, but Mickey could sense the slight tremor in his voice.
"I'll be OK, Drew, I will. I really appreciate what you're trying to do, but that's way, way more than is necessary."
Drew finally stood up, closed the dishwasher door, and then exhaled.
"No, Mickey, you're not. You're not OK with it," he said as he wiped his hands on the towel hanging from the handle then turned toward him.
"It wasn't just what that asshole said to you the other day. He was a jerk, but you can deal with jerks. It was really when he got close up to you and you could smell his breath. That was the trigger. I watched every moment of it. I didn't know what was going to happen, but I never took my eyes off of you."
"I don't want it to become your problem, Drew. It's just something that I have to deal with, to work around, that's all. You should be able to enjoy yourself, have fun, take a drink when you want," Mickey countered.
"But it is my problem, Mickey, if you can call it that. If I can do anything to help, or keep you from having that reaction again, I will. I have no appetite anymore for booze, now that I've seen what it does to you."
"If I ever thought that you'd have that reaction around me, I'd feel... I... I can't even think about it," he said, closing his eyes and shaking his head, like he couldn't confront what might be in front of him.
"Alcohol means zero to me when I think about what it does."
He wasn't looking at Mickey, but had his hands behind himself on the counter, like he was using them to support himself as his head hung down. "I couldn't bear to see that look on your face again."
Mickey moved over and stood next to him, silent, his left hand stroking Drew's back. Drew didn't turn, but the slight motion of his body pushing into Mickey's hand assured him that it was welcome.
"I'm afraid of fire, too. I can't stand fireplaces, or be near flames. Ummm... we might need to have an electric range," Mickey said softly, breaking the silence.
"I know," Drew replied.
"Casey just pinged me! She's coming down from Boston!" Drew exclaimed as he stared at his phone. They were just finishing the kitchen cleanup.
"I thought she had exams coming up?"
"She does, but she said, uh... that this was more important."
Mickey could see the relief on Drew's face. Not that he had any doubts about Casey's support, but actually having her there clearly meant more than the voice on the phone.
The same anticipation was working its way through Mickey's mind, but for different reasons. Would she like him? Would she think he's good for her brother? Even with the nice words on the phone, he had caused such a rupture in Drew's life that any reaction could be possible.
"When will she be here?" he asked, glancing over Drew's shoulder as his head gently grazed a couple of blond hairs hanging over his ear.
The text alert went off as they were both looking down. "She's already on the train. About two hours!"
Drew texted her back instructions on how to slip in the back door of the complex and avoiding any confrontation with the press. He was not only worried about the harassment, but also didn't want to expose her to any publicity that could trigger retribution from their father.
It was almost three o'clock when Daisy started barking, the signal for Drew that someone was approaching the edge of the backyard. With Daisy practically riding his heels, he put on his jacket and met the hooded figure coming up to the back gate.
Even though he knew how cold it was from the recycle deposit, Mickey didn't bother with a sweater or jacket. Not that he liked the frigid temperatures. But there was so much important, emotional stuff going on in his mind that it just didn't register to do it. And it seemed like Drew was of the same mind.
It was almost like a spy movie as she pulled of her hood. "Hey, bro!," she called out as they embraced each other before she was even into the unit, the gate hitting her backpack as they held each other on the threshold.
"Wow, it's so great that you came down. Thanks so much!" Drew said as he released his grip. "But before we do anything else, I want to introduce to you the guy who caused all these problems. This is Mickey," he said proudly, putting his hand on Mickey's shoulder and drawing the three of them together.
"Hey!" Mickey protested.
He gave his best smile and held out his hand. He wanted to come up with some witty retort. But the continuing flood of emotions and anxiety was still jamming up the mental circuit board.
She didn't return the outstretched arm but gave him that same great smile that he liked so much from Drew and embraced him with all the vigor that she had shown her brother.
Even with the warm greeting, Mickey instinctively turned his scars away from her. In spite of that, she gave him a kiss on one cheek, and then waited for him to let her kiss the wounded side, too.
"Uh, let me help you with your stuff," Mickey said, reaching for the strap as she was pulling the pack from her shoulders.
"Wow, this is heavy," he said as she twisted her body around to drop all the weight on Mickey's arms.
"Books!" she cried out. "Sometimes, there's no substitute for real paper, especially for some medical school professors."
"Yeah, especially if they wrote the books," Drew interjected. "They make more money off the hardcover than the Kindle version," he joked as they all moved into the warmth of the Drew's unit.
They sat at the small kitchen table and reviewed all that had happened the last few days. As Mickey and Drew had pretty much cut themselves off from the world for the past 24 hours, she told them how things seemed to be dying down a bit. At one point she peered out the front window herself, just to see what a paparazzi stakeout looked like from the inside. Before their father had re-married, the attention was largely confined to the editorials and business press. However, with the new stepmother, the entertainment channels had joined in.
After they had been talking for about an hour Drew seemed to be talking less and less, with Mickey and Casey largely having the conversation. Reaching over and shaking his shoulder, Mickey asked, "Are you doing OK? You look whipped."
"Oh, I'm OK. I guess it's all the excitement, kind of wearing me down," he replied. "If you guys will excuse me for a sec, I'm going to hit the bathroom, maybe splash some water on my face."
"We'll be here when you get back," Casey replied.
"Are you sure that you're OK?" Mickey asked again.
"Yeah, I'm fine," he replied. Drew rose from the table, but hesitated a bit when he got up. Mickey didn't want to seem alarmed, but his head turned as it followed Drew out of the room.
"Thanks for keeping an eye on him," Casey said. "He can be a bit too independent at times, not asking for help when he needs it."
Mickey looked at her in a kind of quizzical way. Maybe she was just talking generally, like lots of people who have that tendency and are still fine. He was about to ask her exactly what she meant when they both heard a crash in the hallway.
Mickey jumped out of his chair, with Casey right behind him. Suddenly, as he turned the corner from the kitchen, he saw Drew in a fetal position on the floor, his hands wrapping around his head, almost clawing at it.
Kneeling down next to him, he gently put his hand on Drew's arm, trying to be calm though he felt his heart already pumping. "What's the matter?"
There was no answer to his question. All he heard Drew say was, "Oh god, my head hurts!"