This aide had been there the past two times Evan had been admitted to the twenty-eight day program. She knew what he'd been through; she'd seen how bruised he'd been when he'd arrived. He squeezed her tightly and said, "I'm going to miss you. You've made this place tolerable. But I'm not coming back again. This is it for me. I'm done."
She stepped back and looked him up and down. Then she smiled and said, "That's good, because as much as I love you, I don't want to see you here again."
After he thanked her again for everything she'd done for him while he'd been there, she left the room and Evan walked to the window. At the exact moment he glanced out, he saw a sleek black Mercedes sedan pull up to the front entrance. He held his breath for a moment as he watched an attractive young woman with long blond hair climb out of the driver's side. She wore a black blazer, a short beige skirt, and fawn leather pumps. She looked as if she were going to meet a friend for lunch instead of picking one up from a rehab clinic. Evan crossed to the bed and picked up his bags. He glanced around to make sure he'd packed everything, then turned toward the door. Before he left the room, he looked back one last time and said, "This is the last time." Then he turned fast and went down to meet his best friend in the main lobby.
Chapter Two
When he reached the staircase that led to the main lobby, he glanced to the left and saw Michele sitting in wing chair beside a large fireplace reading a magazine. The moment his foot landed on the bottom step, Michele glanced up and their eyes met. He sent her a smile from across the room and she stood up and smoothed out her skirt.
She'd been one of his best friends since college. They'd met each other their freshman year while they'd both been in the infirmary dealing with a couple of the less serious STDs. It hadn't been Evan's first time taking penicillin and it wouldn't be his last. But Michele had never been there before, and she had no idea what to do about a bad case of crabs. Evan had gotten her through it, then through two failed marriages after that. She'd always been there for him as well, and he wouldn't have wanted anyone else to pick him up from Havilland that day.
Michele met him in the middle of the lobby and reached for one of his bags. On the way out, Evan hugged a few nurses and said goodbye to Havilland for the last time. When he stepped outside, he felt a little shaky. But it was nothing he couldn't handle. He'd been through this before: the overwhelming moment someone returns to the real world after weeks of virtual isolation in a protected environment. He knew it would pass.
It was one of those late autumn mornings with crisp cool air and only a few clouds in the sky. The leaves had already turned red, orange, and yellow and half had already fallen to the ground. When he glanced up at the sky to take a deep breath, Michele closed the trunk, handed him the car keys, and said, "Here you go."
He flung her a stare. "I don't know if I want to drive today." She opened the passenger door and said, "Well, I know I don't want to drive. Besides, it'll be good for you to get back behind the wheel again."
Although Evan hadn't owned a car in a long time, he always drove when he was with Michele because she hated to drive. She wasn't a bad driver. But she hated the thought of driving so much she would let anyone else with a license take over if it was at all possible. So he took the keys and walked to the driver's side without putting up a fight.
On the way back to the city, they talked about mutual friends and a few new stores Michele wanted to show him next week. Then Michele went into detail about a new diet she'd just started. From what Evan could gather, it had something to do with eating raw organic veggies and a great deal of protein. Although Michele was only about ten pounds overweight, she'd been fighting with that same ten pounds for the past ten years and had never been able to lose them. This hadn't been the first diet she'd tried and he knew it wouldn't be the last. He tended to drift off into deep thought during these conversations and he missed more than half of what she said.
At the Lincoln Tunnel, while they were sitting in traffic rounding the ramp that would lead them to the toll booth plaza, Michele glanced at Evan's body and said, "I can't believe how thin you are. I hate you."
Evan laughed. "Maybe you should check into Havilland for twenty-eight days," he said. "You'd be amazed at how rehab can kill your appetite." He'd learned how to make jokes about Havilland. It was easier-and, he thought, healthier-than not talking about it at all.
But Michele tended to take his relapses more seriously, and she looked as if she were sorry she'd said that. She changed the subject and asked, "What did you think about most while you were there all that time?"
"Kenny," Evan said. He didn't have to think hard about that question. He'd thought about a lot of things, from chocolate to men. But the one person he'd thought about most had been his son.
Michele reached over and held his hand. She squeezed it and said, "He's fine, and he's excited about seeing you again."
When they reached Evan's neighborhood in the East Village, a group of rough-looking kids ran into the street waving sticks and Michele made a face. "I seriously wish you'd think about moving out of here once and for all. I heard of a great place in my neighborhood that's going to be vacant in a few months. I'm sure Jeffery would buy it for you."
Evan slowed down to wait for a parking space not far from his building. He'd seen a man get into a car and parking wasn't easy to find at that time of day. While the rough-looking kids examined the long black Mercedes, Evan shrugged and said, "It's home. And the rent is good. And you know I don't like change. I feel comfortable here."
Although a good deal of Alphabet City had changed for the better over the years, Evan lived on East 4th between Avenues C and D, and Michele seemed to think she took her life in her hands each time she braved the trip downtown. Brooklyn sent her into a panic that caused her voice to tremble and her hands to shake. She lived on the Upper East Side, in white Manhattan, where the women all had their hair colored in seven shades of blond and carried purses that cost more than a month's rent for most people. Evan could have moved to a more upscale neighborhood. His estranged husband, Jeffery Charles, was worth billions and had even offered to buy Evan something. But Jeffery had always been one of Evan's problems and he wanted to keep things simple in that respect.
Evan lived in what was called a "walk-up," which meant there wasn't an elevator. Between the fourth and fifth floor, Michele clutched the stair rail and said, "We might have to stop for a break. You're killing me with these fucking stairs."
"It's not that bad," Evan said. He took her hand and pulled her toward the next flight of steps. "I only live on the sixth floor. It's good exercise." He didn't mention the fact that Michele had a personal trainer and that she went to a gym four times a week to do cardio. She should have been in better shape after spending all that time and money. Evan went to a gym to work out with weights, but he got all the cardio he needed just by walking up and down those steps, or jogging around his neighborhood, and he got it for free.
By the time they reached the sixth floor, Michele pulled a handkerchief out of her purse and dabbed her neck. They rounded a corner and Evan glanced at the end of the hall and saw the door to his apartment wide open. He pointed and said, "I hope this means Cadin is in there waiting for us, because if he's not we might be in trouble."
Cadin Wright was another one of Evan's closest friends. He'd met Cadin at a bar seven years earlier and he'd tricked with him. At the time, Evan had been on one of his drunken binges. This was right before his first trip to Havilland. Although Cadin and Evan had never been lovers in a relationship, they'd had sex more than once and they referred to each other as fuck buddies in a campy, sarcastic way.
When they entered Evan's apartment and found Cadin haplessly arranging a bouquet of flowers on the small dining table outside the kitchen, they both took a deep breath and exhaled at the same time. Michele crossed to where Cadin was standing and gave him a push. She went right to work arranging the flowers and said, "How can you be so damn helpless? I have never met such a donkey of a gay man in my life. You remind me of my first husband. That sonofabitch couldn't even put the juice back in the refrigerator."
Cadin turned toward Evan and smiled. "I can't help it if I'm not good with flowers, or cooking, or picking out the right clothes. I'm a man. I have other talents that you'll never know about." Then he crossed the room and threw his arms around Evan.
It felt food to be held by a strong handsome man again. Cadin did have other talents, and those talents surpassed cooking, shopping, and flower arrangement. He stood about six feet tall in bare feet, had thick black hair he parted on the side, and a body that made people stop and stare when he jogged down the street with his shirt off. He lived in Brooklyn and worked in a family construction business that focused on remodeling kitchens for highend clients in Manhattan. And he had the thick rough calluses on his palms to prove it.
Evan sank into his strong chest and closed his eyes for a moment. "It's so good to see you. I'm glad you're here. I've missed my friends so much. I don't know what I'd do without you guys."
Cadin smacked Evan on the ass in a playful way and said, "Of course I'm here. I'm your hero and you know there's nothing I wouldn't do for you."