Michael's Secrets (22 page)

* * * * *

“Did you feel that?” the surgeon asked as he tugged.

“No, I don’t feel anything,” Michael said as he stared at the ceiling.

“OK, we have just opened up. And here it is. It looks like a small cyst almost like a pimple. I’m going to laser it off, and you’ll smell something burning. Don’t worry that’s just the laser,” the surgeon said, grabbing a large torch-like instrument from one of the nurses.

Michael smelled what seemed like burning skin or flesh for a few minutes.

“OK, got it. It looks like you have a small vericocele on this side, and I can take care of that also,” the surgeon said.

“Doc, can I ask you something?” Michael asked, still wondering what exactly he had removed.

“One minute,” the surgeon said as he continued to work, and Michael continued to smell burning flesh. “OK, let me sew you up.”

It only took twenty minutes.
That was awfully fast for a castration
, Michael thought as he was convinced he was now a gelding or at least half of one.

“OK, what did you want to ask?” the surgeon said as he stood up and looked at Michael.

“Can I take my testicle with me? I want to put in on a shelf and ask people if they want to hold it,” Michael asked.

“Oh, no, we didn’t have to remove it. It was just a cyst. You have four stitches, and we can remove those in ten days. The nurses are going to take you to recovery, and as soon as the epidural wears off, you can go home,” the surgeon said with a smile.

Michael was not leaving his testicle in Washington! However, he knew he would leave his heart there.

Sharon drove Michael home and stayed with him the rest of the afternoon as they went over the final version of
Romancing the Capitol
. She was submitting the final on Monday, and he was happy to know that his work there was done. After a while, Michael told Sharon he was fine, and she went home reluctantly. He then called the airline and made a reservation for June 1 to Los Angeles, and he called the man who rented his house to let him know he would be back on time. The tenant said he would be out of the house on May 31 and thanked Michael. He then debated about calling the garage where his car was in dry storage and asking the owner if his offer to buy it was still valid. After spending time here in D.C., Michael really wanted a break from the past, and driving a car that was identical to one from his childhood was not going to help him do that.

Before he had a chance to call the garage, his cell phone rang, and it was Sam.

“Hello Sam.”

“Michael, which apartment is yours?” he asked.

“What?” Michael asked him.

“The cab dropped me off on the corner of Newton and Mount Pleasant Streets, and I cannot figure out which door is yours,” he said.

“You’re here?” Michael asked. “Oh my God, wait, I’ll open the door.” He hobbled over to the door as he was starting to feel some pain. He looked outside, and Sam was standing in front but looking down the street, still holding the cell phone to his ear.

“Sam, over here,” Michael yelled.

Sam turned around and looked the other way.

“Sam, here turn around,” Michael said.

He then turned around, and his eyes lit up. Sam was wearing jeans and a blue T-shirt and looking really fit and happy. He ran up to the door carrying a suitcase, and he walked in, dropped the suitcase and hugged Michael, who was wearing loose fitting sweats, so Sam could not see how thin he was, and Michael didn’t let him hug him too tightly.

“Careful,” Michael said as he didn’t want Sam to bump him too hard.

“Michael, how are you?” Sam asked as Michael led him into the living room.

Michael sat down next to him on the futon and grabbed the ice pack from the end table and placed it on his crotch.

“Seeing me gets you that excited?” he asked.

“Don’t make me laugh, it’ll hurt. The good news is it was just a cyst, and I got to keep my equipment,” Michael replied. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“That’s fantastic, Michael, but did you think I was going to let you have surgery and not be here for you? I tried to get an earlier flight, but this was the best I could do,” he said almost apologetically.

“Oh, Sam, you are so considerate,” Michael said as he reached out to grab his hand. “But, won’t you miss your audition?”

“Michael, I got the part, I’m going to Argentina for three weeks to film a small part in a movie,” Sam said. “But I wanted to see you first, so I scheduled a flight here, and then I leave from Dulles.”

“Argentina, wow. It looks as if Sid really worked his ass off for you. That’s great. Will you be in LA when I get back?” Michael asked.

“For a while, then I’m going to Montana for three months, and after that I may be going to Toronto. Things are happening so fast. My head is spinning, and I owe it all to you for showing me how to drive that cool car of yours,” Sam said.

That settled it. Michael made up his mind he was not going to sell the Corvair. “Hopefully, you won’t forget me when you become Hollywood’s hottest sexy screen sensation!” he said, happy for his success and very happy to be talking to him.

“I would never forget you, sexy man. Never! Hey, you can come see me in Montana and Toronto. We can hang out and have a blast!” Sam said, hoping he would visit him.

“Plan on it,” Michael said, so happy to be sitting here with him.

“Unfortunately, my flight to Argentina leaves from Dulles in a few hours.”

“A few hours?” Michael asked obviously disappointed as he was the one true bright spot in the past couple of months.

“Yeah, but I really wanted to see you. I have a cab picking me up in about ninety minutes,” he said again apologetically.

“Well, what can we do?” he asked. “I would seduce you, but I have four stitches on my nut.”

“We could do the next best thing and order Chinese take-out?” Sam said.

So, Michael called the Chinese take-out on Mount Pleasant Street and gave him directions to it. He even drew a map, so he wouldn’t get lost walking the two blocks to get their food. Sam picked up the food without any problem, and he even picked up chopsticks, even though Michael never asked for them.

As they sat there eating, Michael realized this was the first full meal he had eaten in six weeks. Sam had put him in a great mood, and he wished he could stay longer. Soon after they finished dinner, Sam’s cab arrived, and he was off to Argentina. Michael really liked him, and having him here for just a few hours, kept him from thinking about Steve.

Before going to bed, he turned on the computer and checked his e-mails, and there were none from Steve. He had no idea he had just had surgery, and Michael was beginning not to care.

Around 5:00 pm the next day, which was Saturday, Michael did get an e-mail from Steve, which read, “I am in such a funk. I am so depressed. I am going to a Leather-Daddies Weekend banquet, and I have nothing to wear. I feel so bloated.”

Michael e-mailed back, “Do you want me to call you?”

“No, I’ll be fine. Bye.”

Michael asked himself why he asked for permission to call him? Why could he not stop thinking about him? Why did Steve only contact him now when he was depressed or angry?

Then, Sunday afternoon, Michael received the following, “I just got home! What a blast. I made out with three guys! I’m so glad I went! Woof to you!”

Michael was heartsick. He didn’t ask Michael how he was doing or what was new. He was glad to be leaving in a few weeks, and he also felt it was time to let Steve know how he felt, but surprisingly, he waited until Monday morning to send the following:

“Dear Steve,

“I am done. I cannot do this anymore. I am holding onto something that only exists in
my
head. Being friends with you is painful, lonely and exhausting. I cannot imagine what it would be like to be in a relationship with you.

“I only hear from you when you are down or angry. I cannot have a friendship solely by e-mail. I need conversation.

“You tell me you are depressed then you come home after an all-nighter telling me you made out with three guys. Do you have no regard for my feelings? I have not seen you in almost seven weeks, and we never talk on the phone.

“You said you trusted me and felt an intimate connection, but how can I trust someone who won’t be seen with me in public, screens my calls, and won’t tell me where he lives?

“If you think I am being dramatic, whatever!

“Michael.”

Michael then left the apartment and walked down to 7-Eleven to get a pack of cigarettes as he had smoked his last one. When he came back, there was a response from Steve, which read:

“Michael

“You know what fine! Fuck you! We are not dating. We are not boyfriends, Christ we are not in a relationship!

“You know my schedule and what I am dealing with. You are a selfish person.

“I thought we had a connection. You are a strange dude and you know what so am I.

“If you don’t want to make yourself available to me, fine!

“I think you have major problems with OCD. Shame on you for your words.

Think about what you said. Shame on you.

“Good luck with your life.

“Steve.”

Michael couldn’t just walk away. He had to have the last word, and this is what he got.

He felt awful and didn’t want someone to be mad at him. And, knowing he was acting like an idiot, he still responded:

“Dear Steve,

“Thank you for yelling at me. I needed that. I am so sorry. I have been an asshole throughout all of this. Please forgive me. I cannot say I am sorry enough.

“If you cannot forgive me, I will understand. Please know that I care for you and think you are a wonderful guy.

“Michael.”

Michael then called Dr. Mikowsky and left the following message: “I totally screwed up. I am a mess. Please, I need two hours of your time today.”

He then smoked a pack of cigarettes in an hour.

Chapter Ten

Dr. Mikowsky called back a half hour later and told Michael he could talk to him at 1:00 pm. He then decided to call Mark Greenberg, whom he had not seen since the wake he held for
Los Angeles Live
a year earlier.

“Michael, I was just getting ready to call you. It’s been a year. When are you coming back?” Mark said as he answered his phone.

“I’m flying back June 1,” he answered.

“Get this. HTO is really excited about the treatments you sent, and they’re leaning toward the one about the gay couple with the kids. And, guess who’s going to be your producer?” Mark said.

“Let me see … you?” Michael said, feigning surprise.

“Like old times, pal,” he answered happily. “But, the best part is Peggy Martin wants to direct it.”

“Are you serious? She’s an Academy Award-winning director, why would she want to direct a TV show?” Michael asked with bewilderment.

“Because you’re writing it, dumb ass!” he said as if the answer were obvious.

“Seriously?” Michael continued to doubt what he was hearing.

“Jeez, Michael, get your ass back here. You have no idea how big you are now.
Birthright
has surpassed all predictions at the box office. You’re fucking hot. What the hell have you been doing out there? Don’t you talk to anyone out here?” Mark asked.

Michael realized he had talked to no one except Sid, and they had not talked in almost six months. He had sent the two treatments to HTO a few weeks earlier and heard nothing. Michael also realized that he had been obsessing so much about the situation with Steve that he had blocked out almost everything else.

“I really am out of the loop,” Michael said.

“I’m telling you, dick wad! They’re saying your show will be the next hottest thing. What the fuck have you been doing with yourself?” he asked again.

Michael then told Mark about the entire situation with Steve.

“Michael, he’s Mr. DC Falcon? I can’t believe you are in involved with a leather queen in a sash! Why do you want anything to do with this guy?”

“Because I’m in love with him,” Michael said.

“Michael, this is called co-dependency. He used you to fill a void, and when your use was no longer needed, he cut you off. He only contacts you if he is down or needs support. You don’t need this. You need to cut him off completely. I know, I’ve been there,” Mark said.

“I know. I know. But it hurts so much. How do I fall out of love with him?” he asked as he stood outside smoking.

“Michael, every time you have an urge to contact him, call me! Call me immediately,” he said. “And, I can hear you puffing away there. Put out those goddamn cigarettes!”

“But, he would tell me he missed me and trusted me like no one else,” Michael said.

“Michael, do you want me to fly out there and kick your ass? He told you those things to keep you close. If he contacts you, don’t respond. Call me!”

“I think he’s on steroids, too,” Michael blurted out.

“Oh Lord, Michael, run as fast as you can. You cannot get involved with someone on roids. Believe me, I know. Ask Gary. When I was first diagnosed with AIDS, they put me on steroids to help me put on weight. I became a maniac. My personality changed, I felt invincible, and I didn’t give a fuck about anyone’s feelings but my own. Gary wanted to leave me. Everything you have described about Steve is classic.”

“He does seem to take out his hostilities on me,” Michael said, knowing Mark was right, but he also knew that not contacting Steve would be next to impossible as he was so much in love with him.

Michael then called Dr. Mikowsky at 1:30 pm and asked if he had enough legal pads. He chuckled, and then Michael told him the entire story of Steve, repeating it for the second time that day – how he was angry at himself for his behavior and how he screwed things up.

“Dr. Mikowsky, I should have given him his space. I bombarded him with e-mails and calls.”

“Michael, you sent six e-mails in one day. I have a friend I e-mail twenty times a day. If he didn’t want to read them, that was his choice.”

“But he was busy with work and other stuff, I should have left him alone,” he said.