Connectwriter
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“You can’t keep doing the nighttime feeding - you’ve got to go to work tomorrow!” Drew declared, looking at his partner sternly. “Maybe the next night, if you can work from home. But you’re not going to start burning the candle at both ends. Get some sleep tonight!” he demanded, his voice firm but quiet as he gently rocked their son, who had just finished his bottle and was lying contented in his dad’s arms. Mickey was still feeding Ellen, her nearly empty bottle supported by one hand whi
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Ellen’s funeral was just a blur to Mickey. It wasn’t unlike the feeling he had about his father’s funeral following his suicide. He had been in the hospital for treatment of his injuries sustained that terrible night so many years ago. The funeral and his injuries merged, making him almost shut down. The careful attention of his mom and his brother, along with friends like Mrs. Glynn and her husband, his early benefactors, were the only things that got him through the shock of his da
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Dr - thanks! I just fixed it. C
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“We need to get to her the hospital, there’s no time for an ambulance,” Dr. Hanna said to Drew, who was crouching down beside the shivering Ellen. Dr. Hanna, as they called her, was Bik’s aunt, his architect father’s sister, the sister-in-law of Mickey’s boss. Along with other members of Brad’s family, she had become a part of theirs since moving to the new house. “What’s the mat…;” he started to ask, but looking at the doctor’s face he didn’t finish his question. “Let me get a car. I
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“My mom wasn’t very happy about this, but I’m going to be the one raising them, not her,” she said to Mickey’s mom. Ellen Deringer was just one year younger than Mickey, but because of their fathers’ estrangement, which was mostly fallout from slights by Mickey’s father, they barely knew each other. And since the death of Mickey’s Dad, there had been only fleeting contact such as Christmas cards with Mrs. Deringer, and even that trailed off after a few years. Sitting back in the loung
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“What do you think?” Drew asked as he put his arm around Mickey’s neck, pulling him close as they scanned the back of the house. All around them was that peculiar smell of the ground during its first thaw after a harsh, frozen winter. It was raw and pungent. Life was coming back. Mickey’s finger found its way into a belt loop of Drew’s jeans as he leaned into him. “It’s taken six months, but I think it’s ready,” Mickey responded. “You’ve done a great job. Gosh, I can’t believe how much work
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“What do you think we should offer,’ Mickey asked as they pored over the loan application at the kitchen table. Daisy was curled up on the floor, her head across Mickey’s feet. The house that they had set their sights on was still on the market. But crunching the numbers showed they were a bit short. Outside of ‘bringing home the bacon,’ which was Mickey’s responsibility, Drew assumed almost all the other traditional family duties, including the logistics of making an offer for the house.
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“Put your cap back on Mickey, one more picture!” his mom called out as she motioned them to stand closer together. “Last one!” Mickey shot back as he put the black mortarboard back on his head. Before he could pose, Drew used his finger to flick the tassel in front of Mickey’s face, triggering a playful revenge attack on Drew’s own mortarboard. ‘Knock it off you two!” Nate ordered, forcing himself between them. “This is beginning to feel more like kindergarten graduation.”
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Regarding the question about the ending - you'll just have to read on and see 😁
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The house had ‘good bones,’ the real estate agent told them, but needed some renovation work. Drew was skeptical, remembering how his Dad once told him, ‘If a real estate agent tells you a place needs a little work. That probably means it should be torn down.” The agent acknowledged that it would be an outlier, and not exactly what they had described as a target. But, with their budget and their goals in divergent places, even Drew know that they’d have to compromise. “It’s pretty big,” M
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“Thanks a lot for coming, Mickey. I know it’s a long way here from school,” Brad said as he offered Mickey a seat at the small conference table in the corner of his office. Overnight the storm had quieted and had left the landscape entirely covered in a blanket of powdery snow. With the beautiful clear skies that often trail these events, the reflection from the continuous white surface cast a glow onto the painted concrete beams of the former 1920s automobile plant. “No worries, I grew up
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“Do you feel ready?” his mom asked as he started to put on his coat. Mickey shrugged. “I guess I’m about as ready as I’ll ever be. I just don’t know if I’m more nervous about the interviews or going out into this weather,” he said, glancing out the window at a snow drift slowly piling up against the wall of their one car garage. He was almost afraid that the rickety old structure might tumble down if the white stuff piled up high enough. “Well, whatever it is, I’m sure that you’ll do
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“When do we get to see you next?” his mother asked. Hesitating, he glanced at Drew, who answered, “We’ll be back at Christmas, for sure,” before reaching into the back seat to clear space for Daisy. “There’s your answer,” Mickey replied Nate and Midori were going to leave early the next morning, but Mickey wanted to get a head start on the distance and the weather because of the 10-hour drive ahead of them. “I’ll see you soon, mom, OK?” he said as he gave her a hug. “Christm
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“Is he sleeping yet?” Mrs. Deringer asked. “Well, he’s supposed to be. But just to be sure he didn’t get distracted and check email, I took away his connection to the outside world,” he replied, holding up Mickey’s slim silver phone. “I’m not sure that I could have done that, but good for you!” she replied, before offering him a seat at the kitchen table. Because the house was so small, there was no separate dining room, just an enlarged kitchen, if the small space could even be
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“Do you think that she’ll like me?” Drew asked, looking out the passenger window. “I hope that I haven’t caused too many problems for her.” “Of course she will!” Mickey answered. “You’ve talked to her on the phone, and she’s always been really friendly, right?” “That’s true, she has been really nice every time,” he said before pausing. “But still, I can’t help thinking about all the shit that my family has caused in her life. My stepmother continues to have her writers try to fin
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The front of the loose flannel shirt was now open. And even though he still had a t-shirt layer underneath, Mickey already felt naked as the warms hands now reached inside. “Oh…’ Mickey exhaled as Drew’s hands wrapped around him and gently stroked his torso. The hands moved further in each direction as his thumbs stretched slightly across in the other direction until they reached his quickly hardening nipples. “Oh…oh…’ he could only repeat. “You like that?” Drew asked, unrelenting
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Patience, drsawzall...😉
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“I’m not sure that this is completely due the concussions, Drew,” Dr. Lansdowne said as Drew sat in front of her on the examination table. “It could be related, but there is perhaps something else here that might be equally culpable.” “Things got a little rough during a basketball game a few days ago, but I didn’t feel anything traumatic at the time, at least not like when I was playing football,” he replied, struggling to find some event that might have triggered the episode. “Did y
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Mickey felt helpless. “What’s happening?” he asked Casey, who was now stooped down at Drew’s feet, while Mickey had carefully stepped around him and was kneeling around his head. Daisy was right behind Casey. She swallowed before speaking. “I think this is something to do with the concussions he had, which is really why we made him quit football,” she said as she bent over him. “He never wants to talk about it, as he thinks that there’s not a lot that can be done. But he still needs t
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“Um… OK, but before you start there’s just one more thing to make this all even more complicated.” Drew interjected. Mickey nodded his head. “You seem anxious Drew - are you OK?” “Yeah, I am. I’m just, I guess, dumping a lot on you right now. I know it’s not fair and all, but…” “Just don’t tell me you once had a crush on Dave,” Mickey answered, his expression stern, his eyes fixed on Drew. He tried to hold the pose, but after only a moment they both burst out into laughter. D
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It wasn’t as big of a place as Mickey had expected from the fancy address. Being a modern building, it was one of those condos that had a straight-through view from the front door, with an open kitchen connected to a living/dining room then a view out to Daisy's back yard beyond. And she wasn’t to be denied for very long. As soon as they opened the solid wood door she bolted through the kitchen, jumped over a coffee table and then flew out the doggie door. There was just the clanging of t
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Hey PR, thanks for picking up that sentence, I just fixed it. The second part about Mickey I'm OK with it as-is, but maybe I'm too close to the story.
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“Did you lose them?” Mickey heard as Drew held up the cell phone to his face, its tiny speaker barely competing with the road noise and the revving engine. “Um, I think so, but it was luck if it was anything. I hardly ever drive, and now I’m James Bond. And I really want to call my Mom. Once we’re in the clear I want to give the wheel to Drew. Is that OK with you?” He practically yelled into the speaker, his eyes only momentarily leaving the road. “Of course,” Jill responded. “I’m sur
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“Mickey, wake up!” he heard, along with hard, incessant knocking on the door of his bedroom. “What?” he responded, his voice stretching out the single syllable word as he tried to regain consciousness. “What time is it?” “Almost nine! Have you looked at the news this morning?” Jill shouted from the other side of the door. But before Mickey could answer, she added, “Oh heck with it, I’m coming in,” as she shook the large, old glass handle loose until it turned and opened the doo
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Long, thick oak tables filled the cavernous room from end to end, almost all of them overflowing with boisterous students. Wood was probably chosen as much for indestructibility as it was for atmosphere. A simple pocketknife could only carve so deep into the dense fiber, preserving the structural integrity of the board but allowing generations of carvers a place in posterity. Since Mickey hardly knew any of the other players well, he was hoping that Drew would take the empty seat across f
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