His fingers trembled slightly as they danced over the screen. He had to keep himself together, or he would lose it in the medical centre. I’m sorry, he wrote. For everything. For the way I acted on our aborted coffee date. For last night.
He didn’t have to wait too long for a response.
I was worried about you.
I know. Sorry.
Stop saying sorry. Do something about it. Something’s not right.
Kyle didn’t know how much of an understatement that was. And even though he would probably be the best person to talk to about it, who would help him without any judgement, Micah still couldn’t ask it of him.
I am, he wrote. Believe me.
I’m trying to. I still feel like I should call Declan.
Micah hesitated before sending the next message. Please, don’t. Next time I’m in Melbourne, can we do a proper catch up if you’re here as well? I’ll let you know how I’m doing.
Of course. But keep in touch in the meantime.
Maybe they could be friends. Fuck knows, Micah needed as many as he could get.
In fact, he would love one to be with him right now. But the only one he would trust was Emma, and he couldn’t even bring himself to call her.
As he got off the tram in St. Kilda, he wouldn’t allow the opportunity to run away even though his feet were pleading with him to go in the opposite direction. He hoped he looked like he was walking casually into the medical centre rather than someone carrying the burden of shame. Because, he told himself, this was something many people had to do. Because they were humans. And humans fucked up. Sometimes when they were fucking. There was a very long line of people who had done this very thing before him, and there would be just as many people in it long after he had left.
The receptionist, a woman who looked like she wouldn’t brook any nonsense from any client, took his Medicare card and personal details and told him to take a seat.
His phone buzzed. Emma. Are you still coming to the hospital today?
Yes, he replied. Have a few errands but will be there after lunch.
Errands? How posh.
You know me. So posh.
He could practically hear her snort in her reply. More like Posh Spice.
Nah. I’m Scary. And you’re Ginger.
Is that a snide comment about my titian locks?
He had almost forgotten about why he was there, and was laughing softly to himself, when his name was called. He looked up, all levity forgotten and followed the cute doctor into his room.
“Is this your first time here, Micah?” The nameplate on his desk informed Micah he was dealing with Dr. Ben Nguyen.
“Yes. And hopefully my last.”
Dr. Nguyen raised an eyebrow.
Micah told him the whole story, sparing no details. He had read online that all the medical staff were LGBTQ, so he didn’t have to worry about offending any heterosexual sensibilities. It also gave him a great deal of comfort in knowing they would understand him and hopefully empathise a little more.
Dr. Nguyen listened without judgement, and his first question came as a surprise. “Do you think you were impaired in any way, by other means, besides alcohol?”
“Uh, I felt a bit woozy but that could have just been because of the amount I had drunk.” Was he suggesting his drink had been spiked? Micah didn’t think so. He hadn’t felt any different to any other time he’d been bladdered.
Nguyen nodded. “Okay. Look, I’m going to prescribe you PEP. Have you heard of it?”
Micah scratched at his elbow. “It’s kind of like a morning after pill for unsafe sex, right?”
Nguyen gave a slight smile. “That’s how it’s thought of. But it’s a lot more serious than that. For one, thing, the side effects. You could feel quite sick after taking it. That’s why it’s not recommended as a ‘morning after’ pill.”
“Believe me, I don’t think of it as something to take regularly. Last night….” Micah trailed off.
“Yes?”
“Well, it wasn’t normal. Not for me. I always practice safe sex.”
“So what was different about last night?”
“Different?” Micah asked, to stall answering the question.
“Something made you throw caution out the window. Something other than being drunk.”
Micah knew he was right, but he still couldn’t formulate an answer.
“I’m going to be straight with you, Micah.”
Little bit too late for that, Micah thought giddily.
“I know who you are. Living in this football-mad city I could hardly escape it. And being gay myself, and in a gay workplace, well, let’s say that a gay AFL player is big news round the watercooler.”
Micah wanted the chair to swallow him up. “Uh-huh.”
“That being said, anything you tell me in this room is confidential and will never go outside here. I guess what I’m really asking is, are you okay?”
“Okay?” Micah’s response was little more than a whisper.
“I can guess you’re probably under a lot of pressure. Playing for the AFL, being away from your family. I can’t even imagine how much stress that could cause.”
Micah nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
“I’m not a psychiatrist. But what you’ve told me about last night sounds like it could have been an element of self-destructive behaviour. Or a feeling of invincibility. But just listening to you today, I would say it’s the former.”
Was he that transparent?
“I don’t want to put you on the spot. You don’t have to tell me anything. You’re here for medicine, and I’m supplying that. But I can give you numbers of other people to talk to.”
Ben Nguyen was a stranger to him, yet was displaying such considerable kindness that Micah felt even more adrift. He knew if he’d asked any of his friends for help, they would give it. But he had closed them off. He rebuffed Sam at almost every opportunity. They all knew something wasn’t quite right with Micah, but it had taken Ben Nguyen to cut straight to the chase.
And after everything that had happened to him recently, Micah finally felt ready to take the hand proffered to him.
But being unable to speak, he cried instead.