"What are you doing?" Her eyes were wide.
"I can't imagine someone as morally upstanding as you could tolerate being friends with someone with such compromised morals."
"Kate, I didn't mean that."
"Yes, you did mean that. It's obvious that everything is about Drake with you, so until you're able to let it go, I really can't take this judgmental behavior. I guess I was wrong. But before I go, here's the thing," I said, anger getting the better of me. "This is all about Drake. He's changed my life. He's made me happy for the first time in a long time."
She sat frowning, not meeting my eyes.
"I finally understand my father better and it's because I saw him through Drake's eyes. My dad and I – we're on such better terms now, for the first time since I was a child. Dawn, sometimes you meet someone who understands you, and accepts you for who you are. Drake is that man for me. He really does understand me. I'm exactly what he wants. He's exactly what I need. Unless you can accept that and be happy for me, I can't handle it. I don’t want to."
She looked up as I pulled my bag onto my shoulder, her face red.
I turned to go, walking away stiffly, upset even if I had finally realized I couldn't really work it out with her. She'd have to do that on her own.
"Don't come running back to me to cry on my shoulder when he breaks your heart."
I shook my head and went out the door without looking back.
It felt good to walk out like that, but as the limo made its way down the street south from the coffee shop to Drake's apartment in Chelsea, where we agreed to meet, I had tears in my eyes. Maybe when I came back from Africa, Dawn would see that everything was fine and she would finally accept my relationship with Drake. If she didn't, it would be her loss. Still, I couldn't help but feel the loss of an old and once-dear friend.
When I got to Drake's apartment, I waited in the living room with a blanket around me, eager to see Drake when he arrived home from his jam session. He seemed really happy to see me, smiling when he came in, taking his coat off quickly and coming over to me, kissing me before he did anything else.
"I'm beat," he said, flopping down on the couch beside me. "Can we just snuggle? I don't feel like doing anything."
I snuggled close to him. "Fine with me."
"Oh," he said, pulling me closer. "What's up with Dawn? How did your meeting go?"
"Terrible," I said, frowning.
"What happened?" He ran his fingers over my cheek and waited. I took in a deep breath and then exhaled, steeling myself for having to think about my disastrous meeting with her.
"I tried to explain things to her, reason with her, but she wouldn't listen to me. So, I asked her to pretend we weren't together, but everything came back to you. I had to walk out on her and give up. She can't accept that we're together and that you're not a danger to me."
He shook his head. "I'm sorry. I know you two have been friends for a long time. Maybe when she sees that you’re still the same person, only happier, she'll come around."
I sighed. "I hope so."
We spent the rest of the evening as he suggested, lying on the couch, watching an old Bogart movie on television, eating microwave popcorn.
The next day dawned overcast, with a light sprinkling of snow falling outside the window. I lay in Drake's arms and watched the flakes drift lazily down and thought about Africa. It would be warm during the day in February when we'd arrive there, and would cool down at night. I always hated February in New York, cold and wet, and looked forward to clear nights when I could stargaze. I wanted to see the night sky in the southern hemisphere again.
I'd read about open sky bed vacations where you sleep under the stars on raised platforms, and wondered if Drake would be into that. It seemed like a perfect experience for me. The stars were so bright, the Milky Way so large and clear, it really looked like a galaxy. The view was unreal.
I got up and went to the bathroom, tiptoeing so that I didn't wake a sleeping Drake who was sprawled out on the bed. I quickly brushed my teeth, not wanting to greet him with morning breath and went back to the bedroom.
Drake was still asleep on his back, one forearm thrown over his eyes. In the night, he'd thrown off all his covers, as he usually did because he was so warm, and now, his body was nude except for the white bed sheets, which were tangled around his calves. He looked absolutely beautiful, his morning erection lying thick on his belly, the sunlight flooding in from the windows highlighting the musculature of his abdomen and arms.
I stood and stared at him, admiring his Adonis-like beauty. It was then I hatched an idea. I itched to draw him nude like that, asleep, and so I went to my backpack and took out the sketchbook I'd started to carry with me, so that I could capture little vignettes that I came across during my day.