Author's Note:

I love this story. It's one of the most challenging stories to write, but I want to give myself that challenge.

Full Summary -

Life couldn't get better for twenty-something May Maple who has just lost her job, her apartment and her boyfriend. When her friend Emily suggests her to move into a "shared" apartment, she never would have guessed that she would be sharing it with four beautiful men. Oh—correction: four beautiful gay men. But when May finds a list that she had made twelve years ago on qualities that she wanted in the "perfect" boyfriend—she finds herself amazed that she finally found one man that fitted in. There's just one thing wrong with that picture. He's gay.

The Perfect Man

SuzieQuaKes-UnreachableRomance

posted: 3/12/10

O N E


"Life fucking sucks!"

I groaned in a hoarse voice and held up my pointer finger to the barman. The lanky figure who was wiping glasses with a piece of white towel pocketed the fabric and looked up. My vision blurred, my hand wobbled and the usual cute dark haired bartender—Perry, I think was his name—quickly cloned into triplets. Damn. I shook my head roughly, as if that would cure my double—or triple vision. I was never that 'stable' to alcohol. Give me two or three drinks and you'll get a completely wasted May Maple.

"No. Don't give her any more, please." A concerned voice of a female rang out. At that moment I dismissed the anxiety that shone through it. Just her objection towards my having another drink riled me up. It irritated me. I gave her The Finger before turning back towards Perry. He was holding an empty cup, glancing at both of us in confusion. Probably wondering who to listen to.

"Don't listen to her." I couldn't help but slur like an alcoholic. My eyes stung a little bit. Flicking hair out of my face impatiently, I waved a hand at Perry. "I'm paying for the drinks and I have the rights to order as many as I want."

"Ma-ay."

"Shut up, Emily."

Emily Prince. My childhood best friend. The good little church girl. Or in other words: the girl I had to put up with because of my parents—who ended up being my best and only friend. Of course she wouldn't want me to drink anymore. She was totally against drinking. A sin—that was what she thought it was. And aside from that, I was drunk enough. I admitted that. And when I get drunk, I get vulgar. She couldn't stand that. Therein lay the difference between a church girl and a normal girl. Not that I called myself normal or anything but you get what I mean.

I could see the silhouette of the timid and tiny blonde under the dim lights. She was nervously eyeing her surroundings like a rodent caught in a trap. I bet she had never been to a place like this in her entire life before and would not even think of going—if it weren't for me. I didn't know why, but I felt proud for that particular fact.

"I know you're upset," said Emily, turning back to me. Her grey-green eyes glimmered hopelessly under the poor lighting. She fidgeted with her fingers as she spoke, a gesture that she did every time she was nervous.

"You should know."

From beside me, I heard a conversation between a big burly man and a woman dressed in red. They were talking loudly, arguing. The man kept on repeating: "But Helen!" even if he didn't say anything after that. The woman was speaking fast, in a loud but hushed voice. As if she wanted the man to know she was angry, but didn't want anyone else to overhear. I turned away from them, no longer interested.

The barman placed a little cup filled with cheap scotch in front of me. The copper colored liquid glowed in the cup. I reached for it, almost like it was about to disappear any second—and drained the bitter liquid in one quick motion. As the burning sensation traveled down my throat, I slammed down the glass onto the chipping mahogany table and motioned for another shot. Perry moved to pour me another glass, before getting stopped by a palm. Emily.

"That's enough, May. Listen to me! I know you're in the dumps; losing your job, getting kicked out of your apartment and breaking up with Micah—"

"Micah . . . Oh dear Lord, I miss Micah!" I exclaimed in a loud voice. Nobody turned to look. The bar was noisy enough. I rolled my head over to Perry, giving him one of my best drunken smiles. "Be a sweetheart and pour me another scotch shot, will ya?"

As he unscrewed the almost empty bottle, Emily's frowned dug deeper and deeper. The faded cushioned seat squeaked under her as she turned to grab my shoulders. Across the room, the song 'Just Dance' played at full blare from the old jukebox. Somebody shouted in frustration, like how I had just done. A couple of men hooted with laughter. A clatter of applause rang after somebody made a shot at the Pool table. Typical night scene in a bar.

Emily slapped my cheeks slightly to get my attention. "You didn't let me finish! Okay, so you're in a little rut. That doesn't mean you have to get wasted. It won't help the situation you're in. I'm sure you can get some money from Aunt Caroline. At least enough to help you rent another place while you look for a job."

"You don't know shit about the situation that I'm in." I narrowed my eyes at her, as another glassful of whiskey was poured. "I can't go to my mother after I mess things up. That's just wrong."

I gulped down the shot of whiskey and almost choked. Spluttering, I struggled to speak again: "For God's sake, Emily. I asked you to come so you could listen to what I have to say! Not to make little comments and give pointless advice."

The blonde watched me wearily as I ordered yet another drink. "Fine. Go ahead. Do what you want."

I did. And I would have, despite what she had to say. I poured drink after drink down my burning throat. Each shot went to the mess ups of my life; to Micah's emotionless face when he dumped me; to Emily's annoyingness; to me in general. The only thing I remembered before everything turned black was the disappointed look on my friend's face. The way she looked as if she expected far more from me. But I didn't know just what she was expecting.

I woke up to the smell of frying bacon and smiled into the pillow that smelt of cologne. Sweet mornings. Later on, Micah would come and wake me up and we would have a morning cuddle together before I headed off to work. I opened one eye and peeked out of the pillow to greet my surrounding. The familiar bedroom, wallpapered with blue stripes, with a small study table, mirror and Micah's dress clothes hung up neatly in hangers. The room was clean, like it always was. It reminded me of a room at a hotel.

Wait—what? Something was wrong with the picture . . . Questions swam into my brain and into my conscience. The more I started to wake up, the more I started to be confused.

Why do I smell of cigarettes and whiskey . . .? Oh, that terrible headache!

I gasped and suddenly sat up in bed. The pain attacked me like my long lost enemy. I groaned, taking my head in my hands and closing my eyes. A blue volcano erupted in my vision. As the lava slowly started to melt away, everything just came running back to me. Getting dumped, losing my job, kicked out of my apartment since I couldn't pay the rent, the night at the bar with Emily, and drinking my heart out . . .

And I was suddenly back at Micah's place? How was that even possible? Not unless . . .

"Oh, hey. You're up. Good. I was wondering what to do with you."

I looked up, startled and stared into dreamy blue eyes. My boyfriend, Micah Van. Okay, okay. Correction: my ex-boyfriend, Micah Van. He stood in jeans and a dress shirt. His hair was in his usual faux-hawk. Just the sight of him made my heart flutter again. Micah Van, the boy I fell in love with in college. The boy who helped me to learn what love really was. The boy that could make sunshine on my rainy days. And not to mention the boy who dumped me just the day before, claiming that he had some "issues" to work on before entering serious commitment.

"Um. How did I get here . . . ?" My question broke and trailed off into the air. The very awkward filled air, for that matter. An awkwardness that was uncomfortable—for the both of us, I could tell. Micah pushed his hands inside the pocket of his faded blue jeans and shrugged casually.

"Emily rang me up last night. Said you were passed out and didn't know where to take you."

I blushed in embarrassment. It was bad enough that he found out I got wasted because of the break up . . . but knowing that I didn't have anywhere to go . . .? Emily should die, I swear.

"Sorry." I got up from bed, noticing that I was still dressed up in the clothes from the day before. He hadn't changed me into pajamas like he always used to do when I would fall asleep in my clothes. Well, of course he wouldn't, stupid; I scolded myself. We were over. O V E R. That was what he said when he dumped me—and he probably meant it. My headache grew even more as the veins under my forehead throbbed. But I went on talking because I figured it was the right thing to do. "I didn't mean to be a burden. I guess I should probably leave."

"You should."

I felt stung, like a slap on the face—except worst. It was like he was a whole different person from the Micah I dated and knew for three whole years. I kept on trying to tell myself that we were over. That we were nothing more than just awkward friends—but I couldn't bring myself to believe that. Every second I thought of him. Every cell in my body sought for him and I didn't even know why. I suddenly realized that I desperately wanted to get drunk last night, not because of the lost of my job, not because of being forced to leave my apartment—but because I wanted to forget him, even if it was for a slight second.

"Micah . . ." I whispered, sounding desperate even to my own ears. I hated myself so much! Why couldn't I just collect the little dignity that I had left and walk out of his apartment?

He sighed and placed a hand on his face, squeezing the valley between his eyes. "I'm sorry, May. I just . . . It's hard for me, you know? Sometimes I feel like you just need me too much . . . Maybe I'm sounding like a douche, but I want to know that you can live without me. That you can survive on your own."

I shook my head, tears threatening to fall out of my eyes. A lump formed at the back of my throat like something caught in the drain. "No, no, no." I whispered again, not quite trusting my voice anymore. "You've got it all wrong. It's not that I can't live without you . . . It's that I don't even want to try."

"May, please! Stop making this harder! I'm not going to be standing by you for the rest of your life! I can't handle that kind of commitment! You need to show me that you can live on your own . . ." He quickly entwined his fingers in the belt hoops of his jeans. "I decided it was best that we go our separate ways, thinking that it was better for the both of us. Of course we can still be friends . . . but I just can't have somebody clinging to me. Do you understand me, May?"

I stared at him. My entire body seemed frozen. What was he saying? What in the world was he saying? I didn't cling to him. I needed him. There was a complete difference between those two words! I nodded my head to Micah's waiting question. I did understand what he was saying. I just didn't agree with it.

Nonetheless, it brought a smile to his face. "Thank you! You don't know how relieved I am that you understand me, May! Just . . . Thank you!"

"It takes two to start a relationship—and it takes two to end one, Micah. We started it together—but only you ended it. I never agreed to it."

With that last word, I wiped the tears from my mascara-stained face and start to make my way out of the place that I used to be happy in. Maybe . . . just maybe he was meant to be left behind. Maybe I could find a better person out there . . . somewhere. I was so sick of trying hard . . . trying so hard just so the one you loved would look your way. All this time I had been secretly afraid because I thought it would all be over in a blink of an eye . . . And that was just what happened. Maybe I just needed to be less afraid. Maybe I just needed to feel confident in my own skin.

"May?"

I stopped in my tracks. Oh how I wished that he would say that he didn't mean to break up with me . . . That he wanted to start over again . . . That he would do whatever it took for us to work out. My heart yearned to hear those words. Words that only he could say. Words that would mean the world to me and make me a whole different person. My ears strained to catch his next words:

"You forgot your purse."

I chewed on my fingernails as I threw in a few quarters into the furthest payphone away from Micah's apartment. The coins clattered into the slot noisily and I quickly dialed the number of my only friend. The steady yet loud noise of the dialing tones slowly filled my head. The cool metal of the public phone ached my ears. I suddenly shivered in the very dirty tank top and jeans that I was wearing. I probably left behind my coat at Micah's place. I made no contemplation to go and fetch it.

I could smell myself in the small compartment of the payphone. And I smelt like the bar. My hair greasily coiled around my head as I pulled it into a ponytail, while cradling the phone in the crook of my shoulder. I knew I was the furthest thing away from attractive right then. Maybe that explained why Micah was so cold to me.

Emily answered after the fourth ring. Her voice sounded perked and happy. She reminded me of . . . well, me when I used to feel happy. I suddenly was jealous of her. She had everything she could possibly want in life. Emily had gotten engaged a few months ago, she worked as a church singer and her parents were proud of her. She didn't drink, she didn't smoke, and she never had gotten her heart broken.

"May! Where are you calling from? This isn't Micah's number."

"That's because I'm not at his place, Captain Genius."

The cold winter air blew my hair back. The morning traffic was starting to heavy; the roads were starting to fill with people. Normal life . . . Normal, happy lives. I remembered when I used to be one of them. It made me realize how much I actually missed being in a crowd—just being taken away with the wind.

"Oh." Consciousness slipped and set unto Emily's voice. "Did he . . . ask you to leave?"

"No. He said I could live happily ever at his place—but I chose to leave anyway."

"What? Why'd you do that?"

Stupid Emily. I rolled my eyes at her naivety. Minute by minute she was reminding me of the person I used to be. My life filled with use-to-bes all of a sudden. "Um, earth to Emily? Hello, dense. I'm being sarcastic."

Swelling silence filled the telephone line and for a moment I thought she had hung up. But she spoke again before I could place the receiver back on the rack. "I'm sorry."

"You should be!" I was fast to snap at her. I knew exactly what she was saying sorry for. Not because she didn't get my sarcasm—no. She knew her mistake . . . "Why did you call him out of all people?"

"He was the only person that came to my mind . . . And he sounded really casual about it too. I thought it would help you work out your relationship, you know."

I swatted her words away with a quick gesture of my hand, before coming to a realization that we were talking on the phone and she couldn't see my expressions. "It didn't. Good try, Em. But I don't think anything is going to change his mind." I paused. Emily mistook it for sadness, maybe even tears. She started to console effortlessly.

"Oh, May. Someday you'll find somebody who'll blow you off your feet and make you realize why it didn't work out with Micah or anybody else." Her sweet voice cracked. As if she, herself, was about to cry for my situation. "That's fate, you know? I always think of fate like a strange and unpopular restaurant . . . The waiters will bring you things that you didn't order, things that you didn't anticipate, and sometimes things that you don't always like. But it will get better. I promise. God will help you."

"Emily, please stop saying bull." I wrapped my free arm around my very cold body, although it didn't make any difference. "I'm cold and I'm hungry. The payphone will run out any moment. I'm going to ask you a big favor. Can I live with you for a while? Just until I find a job and a new apartment?"

"Oh!" Her voice sounded surprised, genuinely surprised. I wasn't stupid. I knew she didn't want me around her and Cameron Becker—her fiancé. Or else she would have mentioned it sooner, wouldn't she? She could have taken me to her place, but she chose to call Micah. Simply because she knew she couldn't bear my burden. But now that she was under the headlights—under my confronting question, she couldn't refuse. Or else she would be giving her entire 'good girl' thing away. "Oh, of course you can, May! I don't know why I haven't thought of it."

"Thanks, Em. You're a real lifesaver."

A pause came from the other end, before she replied; almost in a strangled sounding voice: "N-no problem!"

Author's Note:

REVIEW. :)

-Suzie x