“I thought it was pretty apt, considering where you’re going,” Kyle told him.
“‘Go West,’” Micah said, looking at the Pet Shop Boys on the cover. Their bizarre domed hats didn’t give him much hope as to the quality of their music.
“You can’t tell me you don’t know who they are!”
“Not really.”
“You can’t really tell me, or you don’t know?”
“I don’t know.”
Incredulous, Kyle laughed. “Not even the song?”
“Um, nope.”
“It’s, like, the gay anthem, Micah. It’s a song full of hope, of finding your place, but it’s bittersweet because it’s only a dream at that point of time for them.”
“That’s actually really depressing.”
“I know, right?”
“I guess it fits, though.” Micah turned it over, examining the back. “You think I’m going to find my place in Perth?”
“Who knows? But you’ll find your place in the AFL. That’s the most important thing.” Kyle lurched over him and scrabbled around on his bedside table for his iPod. “Here, listen.”
Micah stared into Kyle’s eyes as he placed one earbud in Micah’s ear, and the other in his own. Now they truly were fused together as the music started pumping. Disco. Ugh. But then Micah started listening to the lyrics.
“You’re crying.”
“No shit, Sherlock,” Micah sniffed.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to make you cry.”
“I would have cried eventually, song or no song,” Micah admitted.
Kyle’s response was to kiss his tears while Micah got lost in the lyrics again, envisioning a land that was peaceful, where you could love anybody with freedom, and life was better for those who had experienced prejudice before.
When Kyle had dozed off, Micah got dressed and was about to leave via the window again when he was stopped by Kyle speaking sleepily.
“I know we’ve broken up, but we’ll stay in contact, won’t we?”
“Sure,” Micah said, although he wondered how long that would last. Kyle was probably his first—but short, oh so painfully short—love, but he was realistic enough to know it wouldn’t last. It didn’t mean some time in the future they couldn’t be friends, or hopefully even more… but it was best not to think about it. Best not to hope.
“Are you still going to the airport alone? Because I would like to see you off.”
“Can’t wait to get rid of me, huh?”
“Arsehole.” But Kyle cracked a grin, even if it wasn’t real.
“I have to do it alone,” Micah said. “It’s the best way. For me.”
“Give us a kiss,” Kyle said. He didn’t specify it would be the last one.
Micah crawled over him and obliged. This time he felt Kyle’s tears, and he wiped them away with his thumb.
He didn’t say good-bye, and neither did Kyle.
Out of sight, Micah pressed his thumb against his lips, tasting Kyle for the last time.
Then he picked up his bike and rode home to sneak back into bed before his parents woke up and found him gone.
Later that morning he ripped the CD to his iPod. He could have just bought it off iTunes directly, or even downloaded it from some torrent. But he wanted the version Kyle gave him, and even though he was meant to be packing light, the CD found its way into his suitcase.
“You not going to see Kyle today?” his father asked again, over breakfast.
Micah shook his head, and swallowed his cereal. “We… uh, broke up yesterday.”
He was gratified to see both of his parents look upset on his behalf, and he quickly moved to assuage their sorrow. “It’s okay. We knew it would happen if I ended up in another state.”
“Doesn’t mean it won’t hurt,” Joanne said, rubbing her hand through his hair.
“No worse than anything else right now,” Micah said offhandedly, and he caught the look his parents gave each other. “But it’ll pass.”
There had been one last-minute argument about them coming to the airport, and it was Alex who dug his heels in the most.
“I don’t know when I’ll see you again,” he said, hardly able to meet Micah’s eyes.
Micah crouched down so his brother would have to look at him. “Do you know what the good thing is about having to play interstate?”
“No, what?”
“It means I have to fly around the country for a lot of games. Once the season starts, I’ll be back so often you’ll get sick of me again.”
“That won’t happen,” Alex said.
“It will, and I’ll remind you of this moment.”
Declan and his partner, Simon Murray, popped around for a quick coffee, and it was one more difficult good-bye. How could Micah even begin to thank Dec, the man who had got him to this point, against all the odds, against every self-destructive machination Micah had thrown in his way to try and deny himself any kind of future playing for the AFL?
All he could do was hug him. And he was gratified when Dec held him tight and said, “You’ll be fine, Micah. You’re ready for this. And you’ll be brilliant.”
“Let me hug him, Henry Higgins,” Simon said, pushing his partner aside. As he hugged Micah he said, “That’s a reference to a play. We could rename it My Fair Micah.”
“We studied Pygmalion in lit last year, Simon.”
“See? Who said you didn’t learn anything in school?”
Micah could overhear them talking with his parents at the front door as they were leaving.
“Don’t worry,” Dec said. “I’ll be over there for away games, so I can check up on him then as well.”
And although Micah felt that he should be a little resentful with Dec thinking he needed to be “checked up” on, he was also pleased that there were people out there who cared so much for him.
The time came for him to slip away. The taxi was honking from the driveway, and Micah was rushed through his last good-byes with the Johnson clan. He wanted to yell I’ve changed my mind, please come and see me off, but he clamped it down. Pull the Band-Aid off in one quick yank, rather than prolong the pain.
He rode to the airport in silence. The skies were dark, threatening a summer storm, but no rain had fallen yet. The gods were saving that for takeoff, so his last views of Melbourne were obscured. Micah pulled his iPod out of his pocket, hit play, and closed his eyes.
Go West.