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January 9th, 2020
Lake Hood AK
The afternoon sunlight was fading fast outside the Aircraft Section Hangar as I wrapped up my interview with Tyson Steele, the man who had survived over twenty days in the wilderness alone-- an incredible feat.
Steele, who had purchased land to homestead on in the Susitna Valley and had been living on his own since September of last year, had inadvertently caused a fire in his plastic quonset hut by feeding his old wood-burning stove some cardboard-- a choice he said he’d “regret for a long time”.
He was rambling while trying to answer my questions, his head all over the place. Understandably so, considering what he’d just been through. It was a miracle he’d survived this long being so far away from civilization with almost no usable resources, at the mercy of the harsh winter weather.
He’d kept his spirits up and passed the time by singing Christmas carols, because he was unable to reach his family during the holidays: his satellite phone was destroyed in the fire. Not having any ammunition to hunt with, he was forced to survive by eating partially burned canned rations. One of the first things he’d said upon being rescued was, “I sure could go for a Number 2 combo right about now.”
Steele had gotten his food request before I’d arrived on the scene, and as I watched him sip his large cup of McDonald’s coffee like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted I noticed how banged-up his hands were even after a lengthy shower. His pale fingers were stained from the ash that he’d used to dye his “SOS” message in the snow, and his clothes smelled of smoke.
Also, his matted hair still reeked.
As if on cue with my thoughts, he lamented with a self-deprecating chuckle, “Too bad I stink even after washing up.”
“You want a haircut?” I asked, something fluttering in my stomach when he grinned in response.
I knew my way around a pair of clippers; I hadn’t paid for a haircut in over a decade, preferring the convenience of doing it myself.
Steele was quiet while I gave him a buzz cut in the hangar bathroom, and I didn’t mind the silence. Being a writer, I tended to talk less and listen more. It’s why I took this job doing PR pieces for the State Department, interviewing locals and such.
But while I sometimes felt like I should force myself to make conversation, with Steele I could tell he wasn’t expecting me to do that. So I didn’t.
Instead, I marveled at Steele’s perseverance in the face of adversity. I admired his quick thinking skills, for he’d had only seconds to grab bedding out of his burning hut before it began to quite literally explode from the ammunition and Crisco tubs stored inside.
And if I was being honest with myself, that wasn’t the only thing I was admiring, my eyes lingering on his chestnut-colored beard that hung down past his collarbone. When troopers had first found him it had been encrusted in snowy ice, but now it was dry and combed.
“Want me to trim this up too? I can scrounge up some scissors,” I offered, gesturing to his beard, but he shrugged.
“It’ll just grow back out in a few days, what’s the point? This is fine,” he said while rubbing his peach fuzz.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” I said, brushing up the fallen dread-like hair clumps into a dust pan and dumping them in the trash.
I couldn’t help wondering what that hair might have looked like before three weeks of no showers or combing. It was probably as pretty as that beard of his.
“You want some fresh clothes, too?”
He nodded eagerly, and I led him to the men’s locker room next door. There was a spare trooper uniform in the supply closet and lucky for Steele it was only one size too big for him.
“I’ll take it,” he said happily, beginning to change right there in front of me until I coughed and looked away.
“Oh, sorry man. Been a while since I wasn’t on my own,” he said, sheepishly going around the corner instead.
I realized I hadn’t exactly minded though… I couldn’t deny Steele was attractive in that rugged, wiry sort of way. But he’d just been through so much trauma that I knew it would be inappropriate to tell him this.
Besides, I was old enough to be his father, or at the very least his uncle-- Steele had just turned thirty, and I’d be turning fifty in a few months.
The uniform hung a little baggy on him, but he was beaming, grateful to be in clean clothing again.
I went back out to the main part of the hangar with Steele, where the trooper pilots who’d rescued him had news about his family.
“They’re flying in to Anchorage tonight, but won’t be in the Valley til tomorrow afternoon.”
“Oh,” Steele said quietly, sounding disappointed.
“You need a place to stay tonight?” Trooper Gilliland asked. “You know, Ken lives close by here. Could you take him for a night, Marsh?”
“Sure,” I said, hoping I didn’t sound as awkward or nervous as I felt saying it.
“If you don’t mind my ratty old couch.”
“After sleeping in the snow for three weeks a couch sounds divine,” Steele said, sounding like he meant it.
–
Two hours later, Steele was sitting on my threadbare couch holding a mug of steaming chamomile tea-- I didn’t drink coffee, so I’d made this for him instead after a simple dinner of canned soup and toast.
“Probably for the best I don’t have more caffeine tonight,” he said, laughing a little. “It’s already dark, but I’m so not tired.”
“Are you sure? You should rest,” I said, but he shook his head.
“Feels like I did nothing but sleep for three weeks. Couldn’t move around, because then I’d get dehydrated, so I just stayed in my sleeping bag all day to stay warm.”
He trailed off, staring into the fireplace where I’d started three thick log chunks burning to fend off the evening chill.
I realized he might be dissociating from his recent trauma, looking at the fire, so I sat down in my reclining chair and turned on the TV.
“What do you like to watch?” I asked over the commercials, and he shrugged.
“Anything.”
So I put on the gameshow network, which was airing Jeopardy. And despite his insistence that he wasn’t tired, I noticed in my peripheral vision the way that Steele’s head began to droop forward halfway through the episode, only to jerk up reflexively as he startled from the buzzer sound in the show.
“Not tired, huh?” I teased gently, and he laughed, sounding exhausted.
“Hmm… guess I am a bit.”
“Want me to leave the TV on?” I asked, wondering if the noise might comfort him.
He nodded, and I stood up after handing him the remote.
“You need anything, I’m just down the hall, all right?”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Goodnight,” I said, giving a small wave before shuffling off to my bedroom.
I realized as I laid down with a book that this was the first time I’d had anyone over at my house in ages. I had friends of course, but we'd meet up either to fish or to drink at local bars… I wasn’t accustomed to hosting anyone in my tiny abode any more.
Distracted by the faint TV sounds down the hall, I only read one chapter of my book before giving up and deciding to sleep early too-- that way, I could get up early and give Steele a ride back to wherever his family would be meeting him. The nearest big city was almost a two hour drive from my house.
It took me a long time to fall asleep, the noise from the living room keeping me awake. But I didn’t want to make Steele feel like a bother, so I tried to tune it out, and eventually drifted off.
In the middle of the night I was awakened by a scream.
It was an awful scream, one of pure primal terror, and I leapt from my bed without even grabbing my robe or slippers. Clad only in boxers and socks, I rushed into the darkened living room to see Steele hunched on my floor, head in his hands.
“What’s the matter?” I asked, out of breath from panic and adrenaline; when Steele didn’t answer I looked closer and realized his shoulders were shaking.
He was crying, his back to the fireplace. The TV was off but the fire was still going, and my groggy brain deduced that it wasn’t even the middle of the night yet: the logs hadn’t fully broken down into embers.
“S-suh-sorry,” he choked out miserably between sobs.
“W-wuh-woke up and s-saw the fire--”
Guilt wrenched my gut. Of course, the fire! Why had I been so thoughtless?
“No, I’m sorry,” I said. “Should have known that was a bad idea to let you fall asleep with a fire roaring.”
He cleared his throat and coughed; I realized I was thirsty and that he probably was, too.
“I’ll get us some water.”
I came back with two glasses, handing one to him and seeing his hands shake as he struggled to grasp it. Sitting on the couch, I glugged down half my water and let out a slow sigh.
“I’m sorry,” I said again. “It’s been… a long time since anyone was here but me. I’m not good at hosting.”
“Not your fault,” Steele croaked, his voice hoarse from crying. “Just… think my brain is broken or something. Never used to be so afraid of fire.”
“You’ve been through trauma,” I said, trying to reassure him. “It’s normal to have this response.”
“Don’t-- think I can go back to sleep here,” he admitted after drinking all his water and handing the glass back to me.
Our fingers brushed, and his watery eyes snapped up to mine.
“You can have my bed, I’ll take the couch,” I offered, trying to breathe normally and not let the surprise touch go to my head.
Steele chewed his chapped lip for a moment before asking, “Can I-- sleep with you?”
He must have sensed my hesitation, because a second later he added, “I just… don’t want to be alone right now.”
He sounded so scared that my heart broke, and I could not deny such a desperate request.
Besides, no part of me besides my worrywart brain was objecting to the idea. It was a cold night, even indoors and under several blankets, and it had been decades since I’d shared my bed with anyone.
And right now I was tired and chilled enough to silence the little voice in my head saying that this was wrong, that I was taking advantage of him somehow. He had asked me, dammit, and I was too old and tired to be as stubborn as I’d been at Steele’s age.
“Sure. C’mon.”
–
Early morning sunlight poured in through the large gap in my curtains. Out here I had no risk of voyeuristic neighbors, and thus rarely kept my curtains closed.
I stirred, and as I started to roll over in bed I noticed that something large and warm was pressed up against my back.
Someone, I corrected myself, a thrill going through me as I remembered how I’d gotten here.
Steele had started off on his own side of my full-size bed, but in the night he had shifted closer. I could hear him faintly snoring, sleeping deep, and did not want to disturb him.
Besides, hadn’t Trooper Gilliland said his family wouldn’t be here til the afternoon? I could let him sleep in a little. So I lay there, trying to keep as still as possible and calm my racing heartbeat.
Having someone, anyone so close to me like this for the first time in so many years was setting my mind spinning with outlandish ideas. I wanted to turn over and embrace Steele, to cradle his freshly-shaved head to my chest and stroke his soft buzzed hair. I wanted to comb my fingers through his beard, to trace down his cheeks with my fingertips, to kiss the edge of his mustache.
I wanted to show this man that he was safe now, that he had survived and could relax again. A fierce, aching longing took hold of me, and deep inside my mind I realized that this wasn’t just about him, either. Now that he was here, in my bed… a painful loneliness that I hadn’t felt since my youth was taking root in my heart.
For decades I’d lived alone, and I’d been fine with that. I told myself I didn’t need a spouse, nor even a lover. I had the streams, and the fish, and my friends, and my work. The community here nourished me, and I was happy.
But… feeling Steele’s furnace-like warmth radiating into me, suddenly I wanted to know what it was like to love someone. To feel so strongly about protecting them that I would do anything just to make them happy. To be filled with a reckless passion that burned hotter than any flame.
And just as I was indulging in such self-serving thoughts, I felt Steele moving against me. Arching into me, as if wanting to be even closer.
“Mmm…”
My breath caught in my throat, and I coughed a bit.
“Good morning,” I said in a low voice, hoping not to startle him. “Sleep well?”
“Like the dead,” Steele grunted, and with a surge of elation I realized he wasn’t moving away from me, but tucking his head back into the alcove between my shoulder blades.
“Thank you,” he murmured, and I almost asked what for, but I knew.
“Can stay like this as long as you like,” I said, the newness of the situation making me bold.
I felt more than heard his sleepy chuckle against my shoulder.
“You might regret that,” he teased, and I smiled wide even though I knew he couldn’t see it.
“Never.”
–
I hadn’t had such a slow, relaxed morning in a while… and it was wonderful.
After lingering in bed, Steele had asked to use my shower, and I’d made us some hot tea and pancakes while he did so.
Now he was scarfing the food down like a starving man, soaking his plate with my fancy maple syrup.
I saw a blob of it caught in his beard and wanted to just reach up and wipe it away for him, but I told him verbally instead and he made an amused noise.
“Oops. Look at me, forgetting all my table manners in just a few months of living outside.”
“You’re fine,” I said, and the grateful look he gave me at that was so intense that I was almost glad for the distraction of my cell phone ringing.
“It’s the station,” I explained as I stood up to take the call, walking into the living room.
“Hey, Ken, good morning.” It was Zac Johnson, one of the troopers who had been part of the initial rescue.
“Got an updated ETA on Steele’s family, they’ll be in around 4pm so long as this clear weather holds. Can you bring him back by then?”
“Of course. We’re just having breakfast.”
“Nice of you to host him. His family’s worried sick, but I told them he was in good hands last night.”
“You want to give them my number so they can call and talk to him?” I asked, and over at the dining table Steele perked up and looked my way.
“I think he’d like that,” I added, and there was a grunt of assent on the other end.
“Sure thing, I’ll pass that along now.”
“Great. Talk to you later, Johnson.”
“10-4, Marsh. Over and out.”
I closed my flip phone, setting it down on the kitchen table in front of Steele.
“Your family might be calling you on my phone soon, so here.”
“Thanks man,” Steele said, sounding relieved. “I haven’t actually spoken with any of them yet… wanted to calm down a bit first. Didn’t want to scare them.”
“Understandable,” I agreed, nodding. “They’ll be here around 4pm, so we can head out around 3.”
It was only just now ten-thirty, which still left several hours to kill before then. I washed the dishes, and Steele went to the bathroom to wash sticky syrup off his hands and face.
At ten minutes to noon, the phone rang while we were watching TV.
When I leaned in and saw on the display screen that the number was not one of my saved contacts I gestured for Steele to answer it. As he reached for the phone I muted the TV with the remote.
“Hello? Mom? Oh god, Mom, it’s so good to hear your voice,” Steele said, jumping up from the couch and pacing around from anxious energy.
“Yes. Yes, I’m okay, they’re taking very good care of me here. Yes. Yes, Ma, I’m okay! I promise. Please, don’t cry, you’re gonna make me cry.”
I felt like I was intruding, but he was standing right by the front door so I couldn’t go anywhere without making things awkward, so I just turned the TV back up to half-volume to try and give him some privacy.
A few minutes later he came back and sat down on the couch, sniffling as he handed me back my phone.
“Thank you,” he said, and I marveled at how many different ways he’d said this to me in less than a day.
His eyes were wet, but he seemed so much calmer than he had yesterday. Like he was grounded again.
“Anytime,” I said, wondering if it would be inappropriate to ask him if he wanted a hug… but his mother would be here in just a few hours.
I wasn’t his family, just a kind stranger subbing in until they arrived.
But as he sank back into the couch and heaved a tremendous sigh, I wondered if he shared that sentiment. He didn’t have to be socializing with me this much, even in exchange for my hospitality. Or maybe I was reading too much into things…
I’d been watching the news, and now during the local spotlight they were talking about Steele, flashing up photographs of the burned-down quonset hut and the SOS message he’d spent weeks stamping into the snow.
“—surviving only with a few blankets and a sleeping bag, digging up half-burnt canned food from the smouldering remains of his home, Tyson Steele survived an amazing twenty-two days in the Alaskan wilderness. He was rescued by State Troopers yesterday afternoon and is currently awaiting a reunion with his family later today, according to our reports. We’re going live now to Jodie at Lake Hood for more details. Jodie, what can you tell us about the situation?”
“Well George, it has been a whirlwind of activity here since yesterday morning, when one of our air service helicopter pilots responded to a distress call about a missing Caucasian male--”
Then the TV cut out abruptly; I turned my head to see that Steele had taken the remote and turned it off.
“Don’t-- want to hear about all that,” he said, sounding embarrassed, but again I realized this had been my blunder.
“Of course, that makes sense. Sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize, man, it’s your house. I just… can’t re-live it. Not now, not again. Talking to you yesterday was hard enough.”
“Every media outlet on the west coast is gonna want a piece of you after this,” I said with a sigh. “A story like yours is prime air time.”
Steele huffed in frustration, folding his arms.
“Yeah, well, they can just ask you about it for all I care. I’m done talking about it for now. Maybe forever.”
“And that’s your choice. But you might want to stay off the grid a little longer, at least until all the hubbub dies down.”
“Yeah. Kinda wish I could just stay here. I like your place,” Steele said, his voice softer now.
“...I like you.”
The words hung in the air for a few moments, because I was too stunned to give an immediate reply. But then I’d waited too long, and Steele shifted awkwardly.
“But I, um, should probably get out of your hair soon, huh. You can uh, take me back to the station whenever. I can wait there.”
“There’s no rush,” I said, trying to salvage things.
I like you too, I wanted to say, but the words wouldn’t come.
“Got nothing planned for today anyway. So unless you want to go back sooner, I’m happy to have you here.”
Steele’s thin lips pursed, then quirked up in a small smile.
“Good,” was all he said, but then he leaned back into the couch and closed his eyes.
“You mind if I put the TV back on? Not the news,” I promised, and Steele nodded.
“Go for it dude.”
–
It was almost 2pm now, and Steele had fallen asleep on my couch again. I’d thought about getting up to make us some lunch, but he looked so comfortable that I didn’t want to disturb him.
I’d have to soon though… his mother would be arriving at the station, and I didn’t want to let him be late for that. So when the 1:30 time slot of Family Feud ended I turned down the volume on the TV commercials and cleared my throat.
“Hey, Steele.”
No response.
“Steele.”
He still hadn’t moved, so I reached over and gently shook his shoulder.
“Steele, wake up… it’s two o’clock.”
He groaned low in his throat, his eyes fluttering open, and I backed off so as not to startle him.
“Hey there. You hungry? Got time for lunch before we go, if you want.”
“Hmmn. Not really,” he said, his voice distorted as he yawned and stretched.
“Got so used to not eating much that I’m still full from breakfast.”
Then, before I could even react, he scooted closer to me on the couch and leaned into my side.
“This okay?” he asked, with the tone of someone hoping that it was indeed okay, and I felt my face heat up.
“Yeah,” I forced out quickly, not wanting to hesitate too long again.
“You sure? This isn’t-- weird for you?”
I laughed a little, and to my delight he relaxed further into me.
“Not if it isn’t weird for you.” I almost pointed out the age difference between us, but bit it back.
“Mm-mm.”
He turned his head into my shoulder and… nuzzled it. I wondered if I was imagining things, wishful thinking, but then he was sighing and his warm breath on my neck disrupted my thoughts. I felt goosebumps rising on my throat, and fought down a shiver.
“You smell good,” he murmured, and I knew my usually-pale face was flushing red now.
“Haven’t showered yet today,” I said in a weak protest, but he smiled as he looked up at me.
“But you showered yesterday. I can tell. After three weeks of no showers, one-day-old B.O. is fine.”
“Hmm.” I didn’t know how to respond to that, but I found myself wanting to curl my pinned arm up and around the back of his shoulders… so I did.
“...This okay?” I asked when I heard his soft intake of air, as if surprised.
“Yeah,” he replied in a hushed tone, pressing even closer.
Then, somehow, his scruffy face was right up against my neck; I felt the unmistakable whisper of a kiss while his facial hair tickled me. This time I couldn’t stop myself from shivering a little, and he started to pull away thinking I was bucking him off me.
“Stay,” was all I could manage, hoping I didn’t sound as breathless as I felt. “Please.”
Then there was a rough, calloused hand in my own, and I looked down to see him twining his fingers with mine. I squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back as he laid his head on my shoulder again.
“Thank you,” he said, sounding just as grateful every time he said it.
And suddenly, I felt words pouring out of my mouth before I could stop them.
“This isn’t… just me comforting you, you know.”
“I hoped not,” he said without even a beat of hesitation, and when I turned my head a bit to look him in the face I was dazzled by his smile.
It was even more beautiful now that he’d gotten a chance to brush his teeth a couple times. Spurred on by that, I continued.
“But I’m-- an old man, and I am very rusty at this.”
“I’m not that old, but I’m rusty too,” he said quietly. “I meant what I said earlier though, about liking you.”
“I like you too,” I replied before I could overthink things.
“Yeah? Enough to let me kiss you, maybe?”
“Yeah,” I said after swallowing hard.
I didn’t care that his lips were still chapped, or that all his skin was just as dry as his lips. It had been so long since I’d been kissed that it felt like time slowed down, that nothing mattered except the gentle pressing of our mouths. He didn’t even try to snake his tongue in, and I appreciated that.
Somehow, the slowness of this, the lack of impatience in his movements, made it easier to believe that he wanted me and not just a warm body. Like he was just as hesitant as me in this, only younger and bolder.
I was getting my wish to kiss the edge of his mustache at last, and he must have seen me smiling about it because he pulled back and asked, “What? What’s that smile for?”
“Just happy,” I said, not wanting to explain myself.
He seemed to be satisfied with that answer, and leaned back in for more kissing.
Unfortunately less than a minute later the phone rang, startling us both. I fished it out of my pocket and saw that it was the same number as this morning, so I handed it to Steele.
“Hello? Mom? You’re here already?” Steele didn’t jump up this time, staying right next to me on the couch.
“Okay. Yeah, I’ll be there soon. Promise. We’re not far away at all, I was just napping over here while I waited for you. Yes, we’ll leave now. See you there.”
“She got in early,” he said after hanging up, but he didn’t sound at all excited about that as he handed me the phone back.
Our fingers brushed again as I took it, and I stood up abruptly before I could cave to my body’s demands to hold onto him.
“Let’s get you back then,” I said, trying not to let my disappointment show in my voice.
The ride to the station was quiet in a painful way this time-- yesterday, he’d been exhausted, but it was a pleasant and satisfied silence between us in the car. Now it was awkward and uncomfortable.
I forced a smile as we got out at the hangar, watching as Steele’s sobbing mother wrapped him in a tight hug and kissed him all over his face.
How would she feel if she’d known I’d just been kissing her son’s face?
Best not to dwell on that, I decided, and I retreated to the background of the scene with the other State Troopers.
“Thanks again Marsh, you really took one for the team last night,” Gilliland said as he clapped my back in a friendly manner.
“No problem,” I said, but then to my surprise I saw that Steele had pried away from his mother and was walking back towards me.
“Hey, I uh-- I think I left some stuff of mine in that locker room,” he said, jerking a thumb in the direction of the main building.
“Could you help me find it?”
“Sure,” I said, though I didn’t know what he was talking about-- he hadn’t come in with anything but the clothes on his back, and we’d thrown those away with his hair.
It wasn’t until we were alone in the locker room that Steele spoke, taking me by the hand and holding it tight.
“I’m-- not the only one feeling something here, am I? Please tell me I’m not, Ken.”
It was the first time he’d called me by my name since meeting me, and I realized how lovely it was for my name to be falling from lips that had kissed me.
“No, Tyson, you’re not,” I agreed, and I was going to say more but then he was pushing me up against the wall of lockers and his mouth was on mine again, much hungrier than before.
I couldn’t resist winding my arms around him, my mind dizzy with paranoia about getting caught but also so delirious with pleasure that I didn’t care. It wasn’t even that my colleagues were homophobic-- this department was progressive enough not to be bigoted against same-gender relationships. But, it would be difficult to explain someone of my age making out with a traumatized younger man I’d just met for an interview. Definitely unprofessional…
But as the kiss became more heated I found myself unable to think of what was professional any more. Especially not when I could feel Steele’s hard-on pressing against my leg. If I’d been any younger, I’d be right there alongside him. And I would be soon if we kept this up.
“Fuck,” he exhaled when we broke for air, sagging into me with a breathless laugh.
“Don’t have time for that today,” I said, not hiding the regret in my tone.
“Yeah…” Steele sighed in resignation, but he didn’t move away yet.
So I took my opportunity to stroke his head, just like I’d wanted to do this morning, and my heart melted when I heard him sigh in contentment.
“Your mom has my phone number,” I said after a while, knowing we couldn’t keep everyone waiting for long.
“Yeah. So-- I can call you, then?” he asked, finally lifting his head to look up at me.
“Absolutely.”
“Awesome,” he said, then leaned in for one more lingering kiss before taking a step back.
“Wait,” I blurted out before he could get too far. “Can I--”
My hand was raising without waiting for an answer, my fingers twining for just a moment in that thick, wiry beard. It was even better than I’d imagined, mostly because Steele’s eyes slid closed from the attention.
“Ken,” he whined, “You’re gonna make it impossible to leave.”
“Nah,” I said, shaking my head. “Just giving you something to remember me by.”
–
All of us troopers smiled and waved as Steele got into the rental car with his mother drove away. Then we resumed business as usual, on to the next thing requiring State Department attention.
The days passed, and I tried not to feel disappointed that I hadn’t received a call or text from Steele yet. After all, he’d probably been spending time with his family and friends to reassure them he was okay. It was likely he’d spent a significant amount of time being assessed by doctors also, given his exposure to below freezing conditions for an extended period.
But as the days turned into weeks, I started to feel a little surly thinking that he’d moved on without me. That I’d been nothing more than a temporary distraction for him while he was trying not to have a mental collapse. One night my spirit broke, and I went out to my favorite bar to drown my sorrows.
It had been a month now since the day Steele had left with his mother. And I felt years older than I had on the morning of January 9th. I was on my second Scotch double when my phone began vibrating in my pocket-- I had the ringer on too but the din of the bar music and chatter was too loud for me to hear it.
I almost ignored it, thinking it was work-related, but something compelled me to pull it out of my pocket and check. MRS. STEELE was flashing across the display-- I’d saved the number back when I was feeling more optimistic, and now I almost choked on the mouthful of alcohol I was in the process of swallowing.
“Hello?” I answered, unable to hear anything on the other end. “Hang on, I’m inside a bar. Too noisy. Just a second.”
I walked on unsteady legs outside into the freezing cold night, drunk enough that I barely felt it.
“Hello, you still there?”
“Ken?”
“Yeah, this is me. Who is this?” I asked, wondering if it was perhaps Tyson’s father.
But then there was an amused chuckle on the other end, and I knew it was Tyson himself.
“You forget what I sound like already, huh?”
“Nope, just a bit drunk,” I said, then in a moment of candor added “Thought you were the one who’d forgotten about me.”
“I’m sorry,” Steele said, contrite. “I really meant to call you sooner but the days just got away from me. It’s been hectic.”
“No problem. How have you been?” I was trying to sound breezy and nonchalant, but failing miserably.
“I’ve been missing you bad,” Steele admitted, making my stomach flip in excitement.
“Wish I could just book a flight and come see you, but my family won’t let me out of their sight.”
“At least not until you get your own cell phone,” I joked, and he snorted with laughter.
“Yeah, maybe I should get on that.” His voice lowered as he continued, “That way I can send you nasty texts without having to delete them off my mom’s phone.”
Now it was my turn to laugh, disbelieving and pleased all at once.
“Don’t write checks with your mouth that your ass can’t cash,” I said, feeling bold and snarky.
“Oh my god you are old,” Steele teased. “I barely even understood that sentence.”
“Watch it, you young whippersnapper. Respect your elders.”
“Oh I’ll respect you all right. I’ll respect you all night long.”
We chatted for over an hour, giggling like love-struck teenagers. By the time we were saying goodbye, I was almost sober again. My teeth were chattering from standing outside, but I barely minded the cold. I felt like I was floating, and then right before I got to my car my phone buzzed again with a text message.
It was from Mrs. Steele’s number, and all it contained was the sparkly pink heart emoji.
And I knew then that this was real, and wouldn’t be forgotten, and I was so happy I could cry.