Mike, Mike and Me

“New enough not to have a girlfriend.”

Yet.

I was sure that wouldn’t last long. The city wasn’t exactly teeming with cute, stylish, witty, straight guys.

But I already had one of those, so I had no choice but to release this one back into the wild.

“Listen,” he said, “if it doesn’t work out with your boyfriend, give me a call.”

“It’ll work out with him,” I assured him with more confidence than I felt.

“Well, if you find yourself casting a sitcom, give me a call.”

I laughed. “Will do.”

But I was sure I wouldn’t.

So sure that the next morning, as Mike lay snoring in my bed, I crept across the room and removed the blue business card from my bag. I tossed it right into the garbage can without a second glance.

After all, Mike was back. My Mike. And I wasn’t interested in anybody but him.

Yet…

seven

The present

Hey Beau, Bet you’re surprised to hear from me. I Googled your name and found your e-mail address and figured I’d drop you a line. Where are you living now? I’ve moved around quite a bit, but now I’m pretty settled in Florida. Anyway, I’d love to know what you’re up to, so please write back. Take care. Mike

And that’s it.

I reread the e-mail at least a dozen times, just to make sure there isn’t something more. Some hidden meaning between the lines. Some clue as to why he suddenly decided to get in touch after all these years.

Unless…

No. It has to be him.

Of course it’s him.

He didn’t sign his last name. He didn’t have to. He knew I’d know who he was the second I saw Happy Nappy. Happy Nappy 64—the year he was born.

So…

Why?

Why is he barging into my life now, after all these years?

Because he Googled me?

Why did he Google me?

Okay, confession time: I Googled him, too.

It’s not as though he’s been on my mind every second for the past decade and a half, but like I said before, he does tend to pop up now and then. I can’t help getting lost in memories sometimes, and I can’t help occasionally wondering where he is, what he’s doing, whether he’s married with children.

Back when we first got the computer, I entered his name in the Google search engine and held my breath until it came up with thousands of hits. His name was too common. I gave up after the first few hundred. But I knew that if I really wanted to get in touch with him, I could have done it. I could have tracked down his parents, or old mutual friends, or hell, I could have hired a private detective.

Not that I would have gone to that extreme.

Still, now that he’s found me…

Now that I know where he is…

I have this sudden, pressing need to know more.

Like, what is he doing in Florida? He never said anything about wanting to move to Florida.

And…

Is he married with children?

But I can’t come right out and ask him that. I can’t write Dear Mike, Thanks for writing. Oh, by the way, are you married with children?

After all, his marital and paternal status doesn’t matter. It can’t matter, because, oh yeah, I’m married with children.

Not that he’s proposing anything in his e-mail other than an innocent e-mail in return. I could write and tell him what I’ve been up to.

But what could that possibly accomplish?

I read the e-mail again, then tear my eyes away, forcing myself to focus elsewhere for a minute. I have to clear my head.

The sun is streaming through the windows. It’s a beautiful summer afternoon. I should take the kids over to the pool. Or the park. Or for ice cream.

But it’s so hot. And the baby is sleeping. And…

And I would rather stay online and write back to Mike.

But that would be wrong.

Wouldn’t it?

I don’t know. I mean, I struck up an e-mail correspondence with Gaile after all these years.

But Gaile and I never took a Happy Nappy together. Gaile never tried to steal me away from the man I loved.

And still love, I remind myself. You still love Mike. Nobody is going to try to steal you away from him now. He’s your husband. You built a life together.

Yeah, and keeping that life running smoothly is my full-time job.