Kept Man: Firsts and Forever Stories

Micah rolled onto his side facing me, the remote in his hand forgotten. “I wonder if anyone survives their childhood unscathed. There are so many things from mine that left their mark, like my mom dying when I was three, and growing up so poor we often went to bed hungry, and being made to feel stupid because it took me longer than the other kids to learn how to read. I was in therapy for-fucking-ever, but I don’t think I’ll ever actually leave that pain behind.”

“Maybe you’re not meant to leave it behind,” I said, as I curled up facing him. “Maybe you’re meant to make it a part of you, not as a scar, but as armor. All those things are a testament to your strength—proof you got up again and again, kept going, and survived.”

“Okay, where were you ten years ago? You could have saved me a fortune in therapy.”

I grinned at him. “I was a senior in high school.”

That made him chuckle. “Fuck. I feel ancient.”

I tumbled out of bed as I exclaimed, “I just realized we forgot something! Wait here.”

I ran back down to the kitchen and looked around. The closest thing I could find to birthday cake was a Hostess Ding Dong, and the only candle was a tealight in a shallow metal cup. I hollowed out the center of the snack cake with a teaspoon and embedded the candle. Then I lit it with one of the burners on the gas stove and quickly carried it back upstairs, while shielding the flame with my hand.

When I reached the bedroom, I sang a quick, self-conscious round of the birthday song and climbed back onto the bed. As I held out the chocolate hockey puck, I said, “Make a wish.”

He sat up and seemed to give it some serious thought before blowing out the candle. Then he smiled at me and said, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. It’s not midnight yet, so the wish counts.”

He set aside the candle, split the Ding Dong down the center, and handed me half. “This was really sweet of you, even if it was triggered by me saying I’m ancient.” The sparkle in his eyes told me he wasn’t actually offended. After we ate his makeshift birthday cake, he said, “I want to show you something. It’s super dorky, but I think you’ll like it.”

He stretched out on his back, and I did the same. Then he reached for the control panel on his nightstand and turned the dial, which replaced the picture of the Milky Way with the surface of Mars. I chuckled and told him, “I can honestly say I’ve never seen anything like that.” After a few moments, I said, “The ceiling’s a really dark color, so how are you projecting that image onto it?”

“The ceiling is actually a thin sheet of fabric, and the image is on a lit up screen behind it.”

“Wow, that’s so extra. I should have asked for a tour of the house, because I bet it’s full of surprises.”

“It definitely is,” he said, as he tucked an arm behind his head and gazed up at the red planet. “If you decide to stick around, you should explore the house gradually, instead of having me walk you through it. I think it’s best experienced in small doses. Actually, maybe I am, too.”

“You might be right about the house, but I’m enjoying this crash course on your life.” I studied his profile and added, “You’re an interesting guy, Micah.”

He turned his head to look at me. “You’ll probably find me exhausting after a while, if you decide to take the job.”

“Oh, I’m definitely taking it.”

He looked surprised. “When did you decide?”

“Around the time we landed on Mars.”

He grinned at me. “There’s one more backdrop. Want to see it?”

“Hell yes I do.”

“Any guesses for what it might be?”

“I’m going with the moon.”

“Too predictable.”

He turned the dial again, and Mars was replaced by a thick, green jungle tree canopy. I nodded in approval. “Nice.”

“It gets more ridiculous.”

“If you flip a switch and make it rain in here, I’m going to be thoroughly impressed.”

“If only, and now this is going to seem anticlimactic.” Micah did something on the control panel, and the room was filled with the sounds of the jungle—a cacophony of birds, insects, and monkeys, all in surround-sound.

I burst out laughing, then said, “I only have one question. Why?”

His smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. “Because I could.”

I nodded. “That’s a perfectly valid reason.”

We both stared into the canopy for a few moments, and then he whispered, “I’m so fucking glad you’re taking the job.”

“Me, too.”

He turned to face me. “Will you please let me spoil you? It would mean a lot to me. I want to buy you pretty things that make you happy, and—”