Renewal

CW: Grief, illness, death

It left a bitter taste in his mouth. There was nothing worse than over-extracted coffee, when you drank it dark.

Micah pulled a stick of gum out of his bag and popped it in his mouth. From behind, he heard an earnest "tell Jacob hi for me!" He turned and glared at the barista, who waved him on as he tossed his nearly-full to-go cup into the trash and exited the cafe.

A burst of peppermint hit his throat as he took in the chill of Seattle winter. Fifteenth and Thomas had the best shops, he thought, and the best people, too. The kind of people who had a favorite vintage vinyl, who always brought their own bag to the grocery store. People with intention. It also had memories, some he preferred to keep deep in the recesses of his mind. Like Jacob.

He made his way south a few blocks, then cut east into the neighborhood. Single-family craftsman homes flanked the road, perched on sloped lawns, encased in fencing. Every other street, a roundabout with a single maple tree at its center, towering and bare, the shadows of their branches like veins on the asphalt below.

Micah chewed his gum like a metronome, the cold air tightening every muscle of every exposed piece of him. It was Saturday, and so he had nowhere to be but wherever he wanted to be. He decided on home, in pajamas, with a horror flick and cats. Maybe a nice cup of tea. The lingering taste of the burnt coffee making a casual appearance in defiance of the gum, the barista's clueless kind words, completely unaware there was no longer a Jacob. Micah let it go. There was no way someone who only knew his regular order would understand the silent struggles of his personal life. A few blocks out from his apartment, his phone buzzed in his coat pocket. He ignored it.

A flurry of fur greeted Micah as he arrived home. They mewed incessantly and rubbed their cheeks against his frigid pants. The air inside his living room was stale and warm. Too warm. He shut off the heat and cracked the window above the sofa.

"My sweet boys!" he said with forced excitement, petting both their heads. "Treats?" Their mewing shifting to a scream, their tails bouncing behind him as he went to the hall closet to fetch them a snack.

His walls were nearly bare—white, as apartment walls often were—adorned with only a handful of photos, mostly family and friends. They smiled back at him, reminding him he wasn't alone, not completely. Surrounding them were nails where frames once hung proudly in the center.

He fixed some tea and changed into his flannel pajamas. The brisk air drifted in through the cracked window against the back of his neck, as he settled into the sofa.

"Shit." He retrieved his phone from his coat and checked his messages. A heart react from Blake. A BlueSky post from his Senator. An email from his landlord.

Lease Renewal Offer.

"Double shit." He'd completely spaced that he was a month out from renewal. He hesitated before opening the email. With Jacob gone, money was tight. They'd always kept separate accounts and split rent fifty-fifty. He'd been covering full rent for months. The coffee he tossed wasn't tossed without guilt. Every five dollar expense added up when everything was so absurdly priced in the city, and he was covering all of rent every month now. He took in a deep breath, held it, exhaled and opened the email.

Micah & Jacob,

Your lease will be up for renewal on January 4th, 2020. We have enjoyed having you as tenants for the last two years, and hope to have you for many more to come. We understand that rent increases are never welcome, so this year, we tried to keep the increase as low as possible while keeping with market rate. If you choose to renew your lease, there will be an increase of $200 per month to your base rent, and an increase of $5 per pet, for a total increase of $210. Utilities will remain the same. Please see the attached lease with full terms. If you choose to renew with us, please sign and return at your earliest convenience.

Thank you for choosing Lofts on John as your home. Happy Holidays!

Jeff

Micah set his phone face down on the arm of the sofa. There would be no renewal. He didn't have the money. Downsizing from this now-oversized two bedroom to a sensible studio was the only option. He felt a sudden hot rush of blood through his body. Overwhelm. He tried to center himself before he spiraled.

"GODDAMNIT!" he shouted to no-one. The cats' ears pricked up and they scurried into the office. He abandoned the tea, now over-steeped, and texted Blake.

Could you reach out to David to see if he has any studios available in his building? Landlord is raising the rent. Need to cut back.

Read.

Of course. I'm sorry, that sucks. How are you doing otherwise? Heard from him yet?

No. It's been months. Don't know what to do. He stopped responding.

Read.

As shitty as it is to say, I think it's time to accept it's over, and he's too much of a coward to properly end things.

He left everything behind! Don't you think if he was leaving me he'd come back for his stuff? Like, what the hell? I can't do this anymore. He left in July. People don't go "find themselves" for months and completely go off the grid.

Read.

I mean, some do. But not when they have people waiting for them at home. Like I said, it's time to move on. I know it isn't going to be easy. We can come over this weekend and help you sort his things. Chris can do the boxing, and I can be the emotional support. Then we can message his sister, see if she can come get it.

Sure.

He burst into a flood of tears. Angry, vulnerable tears. He stormed into the office and pulled out the top box labeled JACOB. He tore into it, recklessly tossing contents all over the hardwood floors. He grabbed an 8x10 of Jacob, smiling on the ferry, the Seattle skyline behind him, and ripped it in half. He sat in silence, refusing to accept the possibility that not only was it over, but he'd also never hear from Jacob again. He held in the rage. It was becoming unbearable. He pressed his tongue against his teeth, clenched his fists, lifted the box and threw it across the room in one fell swoop. The cats darted away, slipping on clutter on their way out.

The floor around him was littered with paper and shattered glass. He wept until his eyes were swollen. He looked around him at the mess of things, took it in.

This is what's left of two years, he thought. Two incredible, infuriatingly perfect years. It wasn't fair, and it made no sense. The two of them rarely argued and never fought. There was never an indication that Jacob was anything but content. Micah did notice a recent melancholy that he read as stress, or maybe a depressive episode. It was probably why Jacob insisted on backpacking through Europe for a month to find himself. But it was meant to be a month. No more, no less. That was the space of time Micah set aside mentally. That was what he prepared for.

He saw the postcard from Copenhagen, message side up.

August 19th, 2019

Babe,

It's beautiful here. I've never experienced a summer quite like this. The food, the people, the city, it's brilliant, like you. We should have come here together sooner. I hope you're not worrying too much about me. Next up, Stockholm.

Love,

Jacob

A hint of sun peeked through the window blinds, casting slats of light onto the floor around him. He shifted from his knees to sitting cross-legged and centered himself. He thought about how annoying it would be to clean up the glass from the broken frames, and wondered what he'd do with the photos that remained. And then it caught his eye.

Amidst a pile of junk-mail was an unopened letter. Sunlight fell in a clean line across his handwritten name—the return address a hostel in Stockholm. Micah's brow furrowed, wondering how this made it into the box unnoticed. He immediately ran his finger under the lip and opened it.

Micah,

I always intended on telling you the real reason I came here... just didn't think it would be so soon.

It's true, I needed some time away to find myself. It's true I've been a little down lately. I'm a coward not to face you, to say this to your face, but I can't change course now. I'm here, you're there, and I don't have much time left.

Two months ago, I went in for my routine bloodwork, and told my doctor about the back pain. We chalked it up to the desk job and nothing more, but out of caution, he ran additional tests. Turns out my urine had elevated PSA levels. That return trip to the doc? It was a biopsy of my prostate. Turns out I have cancer. It's aggressive, and it's terminal.

I know you will need a moment to sit with that, and I can't tell you how sorry I am for keeping it from you this long. You know I'm not great at processing difficult news, let alone emotions. It isn't right that I'm telling you this way. That I'll never come home. That this is how it will end for us. I couldn't put this on you, babe. I couldn't make you my caretaker and watch the light slowly leave those beautiful, green eyes.

I want you to know that these past two years have been the best of my life. You are my life. Every day I had the privilege of waking up to your smile was a blessing. I'm sorry I'm leaving you to clean everything up. I hope you will forgive me in time.

I want you to find someone when you're ready. I want you to keep experiencing life. There is so much to be grateful for every day, and I'm grateful for the days I had you. Give the kitties pets for me. I love you.

Jacob

Micah slowly folded the letter up and slid it back into the envelope. He closed his eyes and drew breath into his lungs, tears catching what sunlight remained, and said "I love you too." It left a bitter taste in his mouth.