Promise
Don't hurt me.
I was supposed to take care of you, Mikey. I was supposed to make sure you didn’t get hurt. I didn’t do that. You got hurt and now you’re gone, they say you’re dead even though I think that maybe you’re not, just hiding to punish me for breaking the promise I made you that night long long ago when we were just kids, just kids.
I took your virginity and you looked up at me afterward, your face shining and your eyes watering a little, and you said, very quietly: Don’t hurt me, Gabe. Promise me you won’t hurt me, please.
I wasn’t sure what you meant by hurt because I’m pretty sure I had just hurt you bad by fucking you, but I kissed your forehead because I know you like that and I promised.
And now here I am, talking to you, and you won’t talk back. I can’t see you but I can feel you, even if I can’t feel you that clearly. Does that make any sense? Pete says I don’t make sense anymore, but he doesn’t understand. He says you’re dead, Mikey, that you’re dead and you can’t hear me but I know better, I know better and so do you.
What makes me the most angry is that I could have stopped it all, I could have stepped in, I could have been a good boyfriend to you like I was trying to be, but that one night, that one night I just left and it’s all my fault, it’s all my fault and I’m sorry, Mikey. I’m so sorry.
I saw him talking to you; I saw him put his arm on your shoulder and I saw you smile, you smiled at him like you were supposed to only smile at me, and that made me mad so I just drank more instead of going over there. I even saw the drink he gave you, I even saw you take the first sip, and right then is when I wish my memory of that night ended.
I don’t want to remember watching you. I don’t want to remember watching you laugh and flirt with that guy, and I don’t want to remember how I turned away and just talked to Frank and I don’t want to remember how he suddenly said, Gabe, Gabe, who’s that Mikeyway is going off with?
I don’t want to remember how I didn’t even turn around to look.
I wish I had, Mikey. I wish I had turned and I wish I had gone over and stabbed that guy in the neck with my beer bottle. I wish I had gone over and taken you home, Mikey, yelled at you for taking a drink from a stranger, and said, Mikey, don’t you know that people put stuff in drinks, don’t you know that whatever that guy put in your drink made you go with him, don’t you know how much I love you, don’t you know that I’m sorry, Mikey, it’s all my fault.
And then I went home without you. I was drunk and I figured you were drunk and I didn’t even look for you. If I had gone to look for you, I think you’d still be alive. But you are alive, aren’t you? I don’t know anymore. I don’t know.
But I didn’t. I put my stupid fucking self in bed and I slept for hours and hours, slept off my hangover and when I woke up it was late afternoon, late afternoon and you still weren’t home.
I didn’t know where you were then but I know where you were now. You were in that alley behind the bar, laying in the garbage, draped across all the filth and dirt. You didn’t belong there, not in the garbage. You belonged in my arms, you belonged in our bed, you belonged with me. I’m sorry, Mikey. It’s my fault.
Gabe, Frank said when he called. Gabe, did Mikeyway ever come home?
He didn’t, I said. Mikey isn’t home, Frank.
Frank said we should go look for you.
So we did. And we found you, in that alley. You looked like a rag doll, like an unloved rag doll a child had just thrown away, and I swear I didn’t mean to just throw you away, Mikey, I swear. I didn’t mean to, and it’s all my fault.
But there you were, and you weren’t breathing right. The doctor said you had a drug in you, and he looked down at your pants, that were soiled and dirty and ripped and he said you’d been raped, and it was probably a date rape drug, what did Michael drink the night before? Then he looked at the bruises on your face and arms and lifted your shirt and saw the bruises on your body, your tiny little pale body.
And all I could think about was that fucker, how he’d put his hand on your shoulder and given you that drink.
Then the machines stopped beeping sometime the next day. They went quiet and all of a sudden your mom started screaming, and I didn’t know why, I couldn’t understand why, and then she started screaming Mikey’s dead! Mikey’s dead! But I knew that couldn’t be true because you can’t die, Mikey. That’s impossible, Mrs. Way. Mikey wouldn’t leave.
I just kept saying that, Mikey wouldn’t leave, and soon enough a nurse came and stuck a needle in my arm and then it all went black.
So now I’m here, Mikey, and they say it was a funeral but that can’t be, because you’re alive. I can feel you, no matter how faint I can, I can feel you.
It’s all my fault, Mikey. Remember how you always say, Gabe, you don’t think. You’re right, Mikey, I wasn’t thinking. But I am now. I am thinking now but the only thing I can think of is how you won’t talk to me, you won’t talk because you’re mad, not dead, just mad, and it’s all my fault, all my fault.
Please, Mikey. Please, forgive me. Please.
I took your virginity and you looked up at me afterward, your face shining and your eyes watering a little, and you said, very quietly: Don’t hurt me, Gabe. Promise me you won’t hurt me, please.
I wasn’t sure what you meant by hurt because I’m pretty sure I had just hurt you bad by fucking you, but I kissed your forehead because I know you like that and I promised.
And now here I am, talking to you, and you won’t talk back. I can’t see you but I can feel you, even if I can’t feel you that clearly. Does that make any sense? Pete says I don’t make sense anymore, but he doesn’t understand. He says you’re dead, Mikey, that you’re dead and you can’t hear me but I know better, I know better and so do you.
What makes me the most angry is that I could have stopped it all, I could have stepped in, I could have been a good boyfriend to you like I was trying to be, but that one night, that one night I just left and it’s all my fault, it’s all my fault and I’m sorry, Mikey. I’m so sorry.
I saw him talking to you; I saw him put his arm on your shoulder and I saw you smile, you smiled at him like you were supposed to only smile at me, and that made me mad so I just drank more instead of going over there. I even saw the drink he gave you, I even saw you take the first sip, and right then is when I wish my memory of that night ended.
I don’t want to remember watching you. I don’t want to remember watching you laugh and flirt with that guy, and I don’t want to remember how I turned away and just talked to Frank and I don’t want to remember how he suddenly said, Gabe, Gabe, who’s that Mikeyway is going off with?
I don’t want to remember how I didn’t even turn around to look.
I wish I had, Mikey. I wish I had turned and I wish I had gone over and stabbed that guy in the neck with my beer bottle. I wish I had gone over and taken you home, Mikey, yelled at you for taking a drink from a stranger, and said, Mikey, don’t you know that people put stuff in drinks, don’t you know that whatever that guy put in your drink made you go with him, don’t you know how much I love you, don’t you know that I’m sorry, Mikey, it’s all my fault.
And then I went home without you. I was drunk and I figured you were drunk and I didn’t even look for you. If I had gone to look for you, I think you’d still be alive. But you are alive, aren’t you? I don’t know anymore. I don’t know.
But I didn’t. I put my stupid fucking self in bed and I slept for hours and hours, slept off my hangover and when I woke up it was late afternoon, late afternoon and you still weren’t home.
I didn’t know where you were then but I know where you were now. You were in that alley behind the bar, laying in the garbage, draped across all the filth and dirt. You didn’t belong there, not in the garbage. You belonged in my arms, you belonged in our bed, you belonged with me. I’m sorry, Mikey. It’s my fault.
Gabe, Frank said when he called. Gabe, did Mikeyway ever come home?
He didn’t, I said. Mikey isn’t home, Frank.
Frank said we should go look for you.
So we did. And we found you, in that alley. You looked like a rag doll, like an unloved rag doll a child had just thrown away, and I swear I didn’t mean to just throw you away, Mikey, I swear. I didn’t mean to, and it’s all my fault.
But there you were, and you weren’t breathing right. The doctor said you had a drug in you, and he looked down at your pants, that were soiled and dirty and ripped and he said you’d been raped, and it was probably a date rape drug, what did Michael drink the night before? Then he looked at the bruises on your face and arms and lifted your shirt and saw the bruises on your body, your tiny little pale body.
And all I could think about was that fucker, how he’d put his hand on your shoulder and given you that drink.
Then the machines stopped beeping sometime the next day. They went quiet and all of a sudden your mom started screaming, and I didn’t know why, I couldn’t understand why, and then she started screaming Mikey’s dead! Mikey’s dead! But I knew that couldn’t be true because you can’t die, Mikey. That’s impossible, Mrs. Way. Mikey wouldn’t leave.
I just kept saying that, Mikey wouldn’t leave, and soon enough a nurse came and stuck a needle in my arm and then it all went black.
So now I’m here, Mikey, and they say it was a funeral but that can’t be, because you’re alive. I can feel you, no matter how faint I can, I can feel you.
It’s all my fault, Mikey. Remember how you always say, Gabe, you don’t think. You’re right, Mikey, I wasn’t thinking. But I am now. I am thinking now but the only thing I can think of is how you won’t talk to me, you won’t talk because you’re mad, not dead, just mad, and it’s all my fault, all my fault.
Please, Mikey. Please, forgive me. Please.