Rocco

Rocco pulled up to Pete’s house and parked in front of the garage—the garage where Fred used to practice before they transitioned to the skatepark. It seemed like it was a lifetime ago when Fred played their final show at the park. Rocco sat behind the steering wheel in thought. He wondered what Mike was doing at this moment. The first couple of days after Mike dropped him off, Rocco was consumed with wondering what Mike was doing. He wondered if Mike thought of him as he walked along the Hawaiian beach. Rocco realized that if he could make it to the beach in California, perhaps one of the waves that hit his feet would be one of the same waves that had traveled from Mike’s feet in Hawaii. If he grabbed a handful of sand, he wondered if those very grains of sand had slipped through Mike’s hands. If he saw a seagull, he wondered if that same seagull had laid its eyes on Mike. Rocco had no idea how air and water currents worked between California and Hawaii, but he knew it could be possible. He knew that it was a possibility that he and Mike would both be looking out on the same vast ocean hopefully at the same moment in time. A resolve started to build up in Rocco that he had to make it to the beach to be just a bit closer to Mike than he was right now.

Pete tapped on the window startling Rocco from his meditation. Rocco leaned over and unlocked the door. Pete opened the door and poked his head into the car.

“Can you pop open the trunk so I can put my bag in?” Pete said. Pete had a medium sized suitcase that was stuffed full of clothes. The suitcase bulged slightly.

Rocco nodded and quietly got out of the car. Without noticing Pete’s excitement, Rocco quietly opened the trunk. Pete looked at Rocco and put his suitcase in the trunk. Rocco stood staring at the trunk. Pete picked up on Rocco’s distance and closed the trunk.

“You going to be okay to drive?” Pete asked. Pete didn’t need to ask what was bothering Rocco. He already knew. He knew that Mike and Rocco were no more, and that Rocco was numb from the pain. Rocco quietly looked up at Pete and shook his head. Pete gave Rocco an understanding smile and held out his hand for the keys. Rocco placed the keys in Pete’s hand. Pete took the keys and leaned in to give Rocco a hug. Rocco stood with his arms at his side while Pete whispered “I know” over and over in Rocco’s ear. Rocco wanted to break down and cry, but he couldn’t. He felt like he had no more tears left.

“I need to get to the beach,” Rocco said. Pete broke off his hug and gave Rocco a confused look. “Pete, I need to get to the beach,” Rocco repeated with a quiet desperation.

“Okay,” Pete said quietly. He didn’t know why Rocco said this, but he knew it was important to Rocco. “Let’s get you to the beach.”

Pete got behind the wheel and started the engine. Rocco got into the passenger seat. Pete thought about turning the radio on but decided to keep it quiet for a while to let Rocco know it was okay if he needed to talk. They made their way out onto the main road and past the city limits. Once they left Miners Creek, Rocco broke down into tears.

Pete patted Rocco’s thigh. “That’s okay. Just let it all out,” Pete said as they drove out of town.

Somewhere in Louisiana, the two pulled up to a motel to see if there was a vacancy. Pete and Rocco had been switching driving duties for close to 11 hours at this point. Pete drove the first three hours allowing Rocco plenty of time to get his mind off Mike and out of Miners Creek. By the time they were southwest of Birmingham, Alabama, Pete and Rocco needed to stop at an interstate fast food place to eat and stretch their legs. Rocco said he could take over the driving for a while. Rocco drove from Birmingham to Jackson, Mississippi, until he started to slip into driving hypnosis. They stopped at a rest area outside of Jackson and swapped duties. While Rocco still had his mind on Mike, the immediate pain had lessened to a constant heartache. Somewhere around the Mississippi/Louisiana border, Rocco’s heartache became a wistful loneliness. When he thought of Mike, he did not instantly break into tears. He just felt an emptiness in his heart. The long day of driving turned into a humid summer night. Pete and Rocco started to smell ripe from the road a couple of hours before they stopped for the night. The hotel they found with a vacancy was a solitary building in the middle of the flat low Louisiana landscape. There was an all-night roadside dinner across the parking lot where Pete and Rocco enjoyed a greasy breakfast as a late-night dinner. Pete and Rocco were forced to share a one-bed room on the first floor which would have been fine except Rocco was shocked that Pete slept naked. Rocco felt a little uncomfortable sharing a bed with a naked guy even if it was Pete. Rocco’s unease was soon vanquished as he drifted off to sleep. The road and the pain of the past few days had wiped Rocco out completely. He closed his eyes for a second but was surprised when he opened them to the next morning. He had never slept so hard.

When Rocco got out of bed, Pete was already dressed and ready to hit the road. Rocco needed an hour to get showered and to wake up fully. While Rocco got ready, Pete went to the dinner to have breakfast and drink coffee until Rocco was ready. Before he got in the shower, the emptiness of yesterday started to surface filling Rocco with an overwhelming emotional fire. How was he going to make it through the day? One thing kept him going—making it to the beach to be closer to Mike.

Rocco took a deep breath in and stepped into the cool shower resolved to make it through to their next stop—as far past El Paso as they could. It was going to be a grueling drive today—almost the entire morning and night on the road through Texas. He managed to be ready in under 45 minutes.

Rocco barely registered making it through Texas. Once they made it past Houston, the remainder of the drive was flat and brown. Rocco had never experienced such a desolate part of the country. The only times he and Pete stopped was to go to the bathroom and swap seats every 3-4 hours. Rocco’s longing for Mike was gradually replaced with impatience—he wanted to get to a hotel so that he could just go to sleep to make it on to the next day.

The two mostly spent their time in the car listening to music without much conversation. Pete was too afraid to engage Rocco too much. He didn’t want to say the wrong thing to upset Rocco. Rocco simply had no appetite for conversation. His thoughts were solely focused on making it to California. He was beginning to get slightly annoyed at Pete’s constant presence. Rocco hadn’t valued his alone time until he was stuck in a car with one individual for so long. Still, despite his need to be alone, he was grateful to have Pete sitting next to him. He was grateful that Pete respected his desire to focus inward.

They found a seedy motel about 30 minutes shy of El Paso in the middle of the Texas desert. Once again, they had to share a bed and, once again, Rocco had to sleep with a naked Pete. Rocco felt like he was unfaithful to Mike sleeping in the same bed with Pete naked even though Rocco had no intention of instigating anything.

The drive across Texas was the longest. Their next stop was somewhere in Phoenix which would only took 7 hours. Yesterday’s drive was close to 14 hours. Seven hours seemed like a treat. The only thing that stood out to Rocco during the drive was how flat the land was. They passed a sign that said “Continental Divide” which stunned Rocco. He always pictured the Rocky Mountains and assumed they spanned the country all the way. Compared to Texas, the landscape was more textured but not at all what he expected when crossing the Continental Divide. Something about that sign indicated to Rocco that they were truly “out West” now.

With the East Coast behind them, the two guys started to look for a hotel or motel once they passed Phoenix. They found a relatively decent chain hotel with a room that had two beds. This was a considerable step up from the cozy accommodations they had shared the past two nights. It was going to be nice not to have to wake up stuck to Pete’s sweaty ass. While Rocco always thought of Pete as handsome, spending three days with him in a car with his stench quickly quelled any possible interest Rocco had. Rocco was certain that he was just as repellent to Pete at this point; however, Pete never showed any contempt during the whole trip—just quiet comradery.

It wasn’t until they passed a sign that read “Welcome to California” that Rocco started to feel his spirits lift a little. They had made it to California. The end of the road trip was coming to an end. The past three days all blurred together for Rocco. All he remembered at this point was flat brown land and Pete’s naked body.

Pete offered to drive to the hotel in Los Angeles when they stopped in Palm Springs for a bathroom break. Rocco only knew about Palm Springs from movies and television but had no idea just how close they were to Los Angeles at this point. Pete drove them over the windy San Jacinto Mountains and into the basin of their destination. Rocco marveled at the conglomeration of freeways and development that lay before them. For miles on either side were sprawling endless cities—one after the other with no boundaries. They slowly approached the Los Angeles downtown skyline. Rocco had never been to a city of such vast proportions. He simply couldn’t believe how the city butted up against snow capped mountains. He was stunned that the sky did not have a cloud in sight—only a brownish orange layer of smog along the horizon.

The hotel they were staying for three nights was in Echo Park. Pete remained on the 10 to Santa Monica driving past the freeway to Echo Park. Rocco snapped out of the daze he had been in.

“You missed the freeway,” Rocco said to Pete looking back through the rear-view window.

“I know,” Pete replied. “We’ll go back. We’ve got something more important to do right now.” They were stopped in traffic for an hour before Rocco began to realize where they were going. Pete was taking him to Santa Monica to the beach. Rocco began to tear up that Pete’s first inclination was to take him closer to Mike.

Rocco sat back admiring the scenery unfolding before him. All around were boutiques and diners along Santa Monica Boulevard. Tall palm trees towered over the low-level buildings. Soon, Rocco’s eyes laid upon the vast Pacific Ocean before them. Pete found a spot to park. They got out of the car, weary from the road. The ocean air filled Rocco’s lungs and revitalized his spirit. Rocco sprinted through the sand unaffected by the crowd of beachgoers before him. Pete stood back to admire the scenery while Rocco ran off towards the water. When Rocco reached where the water met the sand, he dropped to his knees letting the ocean touch his pants. The cold Pacific waters quickly penetrated his jeans. He extended his hands into the shallow foamy water wondering if these same molecules had touched Mike’s body. He scooped up a handful of wet sand and ocean water and let it run through his fingers. He scooped up another handful of sand and water and touched it to his lips. The saltiness of water reminded Rocco of Mike’s lips after he kissed Mike when he had been sweating. Rocco closed his eyes and pictured himself in the lake with Mike.

“Mike, I love you,” Rocco whispered to the vast ocean hoping the water would carry his voice all the way to Hawaii where Mike was.

Rocco was laying in his bed in the room he and Pete were staying in at the Hollywood Bungalow Hotel. Pete found a weekly motel room along Hollywood Boulevard by the 101 Freeway. It was a standard motel room with two beds. The beds had vibrator coin boxes indicating that the rooms were also likely for rent on an hourly basis. Down the street was a Denny’s that had not been remodeled since the 1960s which was not an oddity in Los Angeles. What was bizarre about this Denny was that there was a seedy bar with a small stage where lounge acts would play several times a week. Pete had been scoping out the joint to find a singing gig.

It was an overcast LA morning just like any other. The days were the same, overcast until around 11. After 11, the ocean air burned off leaving a sunny, cloudless day. Rocco found that there was something unusually depressing about everyday being bright and sunny. The sun-drenched city full of saccharin pleasantness made Rocco think about the blemished, rotten under core of everything.

“You’ve been laying there all morning,” Pete said as he got out of the shower. Rocco made a movement to indicate he was listening. “Let’s get out of here and find some places I can sing.”

Rocco knew that staying in bed was futile. He did want to get out but did not have any motivation to get out of the bed. Not wanting to hear anymore from Pete, Rocco mustered up the energy to get out of the bed. He walked into the bathroom without saying a word to Pete and turned on the shower. He got in and started to wash himself. It had been a couple of weeks since he saw Mike. The details of Mike’s face had started to fade a little from his memory. He could remember his hair falling over his eyes and his freckled skin. He could remember Mike’s soft lips. What Rocco could not remember was the sound of Mike’s voice. He was certain he would know his voice if he heard it. Everything else also blurred from his memory leaving Rocco with an impression of Mike rather than a photographic image of him. The only real image he could easily recall was the moment Rocco put his Yankees hat on Mike’s head that first time.

Rocco smiled as he turned off the shower. He could think of Mike fondly now and smile instead of instantly burst into tears. He was far from over Mike, but he found himself thinking of Mike less and less each day. Mornings were the toughest for him, however, because he would often have a dream about Mike.

“I’m ready,” Rocco said putting on a t-shirt. “Where do you want to go?”

“I thought we could hang out at that Denny’s for a little while,” Pete replied.

“Again? Haven’t you been there every day this week?” Rocco asked combing his hair back.

“Yeah, but I think I may get lucky today,” Pete said. “Besides, we can have lunch.” Rocco nodded.

They walked a few steps into the Denny’s and were seated next to the bar area. It was lunchtime so, even though the bar was open, there were no customers. Pete kept one eye on the bar and used the other to peruse the menu.

They ordered lunch. Pete sat back and drank his coffee. Rocco fidgeted with the silverware. They sat for a moment when Pete spotted a trio enter the restaurant. They looked like a band. Pete knew the look—slightly hungover, wearing all black, lots of piercings, scratchy voices from liquor, cigarettes, and vocal damage. Pete kept his eyes on the trio as they walked over to the bar area. It looked as if they were about to meet someone from management.

“Hey, I’ll be right back,” Pete said getting up to follow the trio into the bar. Rocco nodded without looking at Pete. He took a sip from his coffee and looked around the restaurant. Rocco saw Pete talking to the trio. The food arrived. Rocco decided to go ahead and eat as he didn’t know when Pete would return to the table.

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

Rocco was halfway through his lunch when Pete came back to the table. Pete’s sandwich and fries had gotten cold at this point, but Pete pushed aside the plate.

“I was right. That was a band. They’ll be playing here tonight,” Pete said excitedly.

“Oh really?” Rocco replied eating a fry.

“Yeah, and the great news is that they don’t know if their singer is going to make it. They said he’s unreliable so I sang a little for them and they said, if their singer doesn’t show up, I can step in,” Pete said in a quiet exclamation.

“What?” Rocco stopped eating and looked up at Pete. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, they want me to show up tonight to be ready,” Pete smiled.

“Do you even know what they play?” Rocco asked.

“They play cover songs so it’s no problem. It doesn’t matter really, though. I just want to be on stage again,” Pete said.

“So, we just show up and hang out and you might get called on to sing?” Rocco asked as he pushed aside the remainder of his lunch.

“Pretty much,” Pete said and ate a fry.

Rocco considered the possibility of hanging out at Denny’s for the evening. It would be the California culture he was seeking. It would get his mind off Mike as well. “Okay, I’m in.”

That night, Pete put on a black button up shirt and black jeans. He slicked his hair back with a copious amount of gel. Rocco kept on the clothes he had worn that morning. He wasn’t trying to impress anyone—Pete was the one on the spot tonight. They walked over to the Denny’s and found a seat in the bar. The band was set up and talking among themselves in one corner of the bar. One of the members spotted Pete and waved him over.

“Wish me luck!” Pete exclaimed.

“Good luck!” Rocco said as he sat back in his seat. A waitress came by and asked if Rocco wanted anything. He ordered a Coke and a plate of fries. When the waitress left, Rocco looked over at Pete. Pete saw Rocco and gave him a thumbs up. Rocco returned the gesture. It looked as if Pete was going to make his Los Angeles debut tonight at the Denny’s Lounge.

There was a small audience of 5 or 6 attendees in the bar when Pete and the band members stepped up onto the tiny stage. The stage was more of a raised area in the corner. The name of the band was Afternoon Delight. They specialized in covers of soft rock songs from the 1970s and 1980s. This was not the punk music Rocco knew that Pete preferred to sing. Nonetheless, Rocco cheered on Pete during his rendition of “Afternoon Delight” and “Baby I’m-A Want You”. Rocco had never heard Pete croon. He was mostly familiar with Pete yelling and screaming lyrics. Pete had a very impressive singing voice in a pleasing tenor range. His voice was smooth and soothing which was a refreshing change for Rocco’s ears. Rocco found himself bopping his head to Pete’s version of a Hall and Oats song. Rocco could also tell that the other members of the audience were enjoying the performance. When the band finished up, Rocco found himself in a better mood which made him happy. Pete waved for Rocco to come up to the stage.

“Well, how did I do?” Pete asked Rocco.

“I’ve never heard you sing like that. That was impressive,” Rocco replied.

“Pretty different from the skate park, huh?” Pete asked.

“Very,” Rocco said raising his eyebrows.

“Hey, good job, Pete,” one of the bandmembers said to Pete.

“Thanks!” Pete exclaimed.

“We were thinking about going back to our pad and partying a little, wanna join us?” the bandmember asked Pete and Rocco.

“Sure!” Pete said without hesitation. He looked over at Rocco giving him a pleading look.

“Okay,” Rocco replied. “I’m Rocco by the way.”

“Andy,” the bandmember said. “And that’s Jay and Trevor.”

Rocco nodded at Jay and Trevor. “So, where are we going?”

“We all got an apartment in Burbank just up the road,” Andy said. Rocco helped Pete and the band pack up the van. About 30 minutes later, they were in front of a rough looking apartment building. Rocco helped unload the van and followed the bandmembers into the apartment. The apartment was a rundown two bedroom that smelled of cat piss and cigarettes. Rocco was carrying a guitar which he put down on the floor.

“Have a seat,” Andy said to Rocco and Pete. They sat down on a beat-up couch that was covered in cigarette burns.

“This is how a band lives,” Pete said admiring the surroundings. Rocco looked around at the abode. This lifestyle was a dramatic change from the one he was used to in Miners Creek. Even though the apartment his single mom rented was far from luxurious, her apartment was at least clean unlike these guys’ apartment.

Andy appeared with Jay and Trevor from one of the dark bedrooms. He was carrying a tray. Jay and Trevor sat on the floor as Andy put the tray down on the makeshift coffee table. On the tray in front of them was a hypodermic needle, a spoon, a lighter, and small baggy of powder.

“You guys want to shoot up with us?” Andy asked Rocco and Pete.

Rocco and Pete looked at each other. Neither of them had done heroin.

“I’ve never done it,” Pete replied. Rocco shook his head as well.

“Ah, newbies,” Jay laughed.

“We got you. We’ll keep it low dose for your first time,” Andy said.

Pete looked over at Rocco who was wide eyed from anxiety.

“Um, you know, I’m going to pass. Do you guys have any beer?” Rocco said quietly.

“Yeah, in the fridge, help yourself, you sure you don’t want any?” Andy asked cooking the dope in the spoon.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Rocco said looking at Pete. Pete smiled at Rocco.

“I’m in,” Pete said and rolled up his sleeve. “Could you do it though? I don’t know how to do this.”

“Sure thing, man,” Andy said.

Rocco watched as Andy filled the syringe with the liquid he had just created. He saw the needle enter Pete’s arm and the contents of the syringe enter Pete’s bloodstream. In seconds, Pete fell back and gasped in pleasure. Pete was in another world as the other guys in the band joined him. Rocco was left to himself in a room with four incoherent guys. He grabbed a Bud and popped it open. With no one to talk to, he found the TV remote and watched an old horror movie as he drank a couple of beers waiting for Pete to come back around.

A couple of weeks passed by since Pete got hooked on heroin. Ever since that first night, he had been hanging out with the members of Afternoon Delight. He would spend his evenings after their shows shooting up. Sometimes, Pete would sing; other times he would just hang at whatever establishment they were playing and wait for the show to end. He would then help them with equipment and be offered a ride back to their apartment. Sometimes Rocco would join but would not partake. Over the two weeks that Pete developed his budding habit, Rocco started to make himself scarce around Pete. He didn’t care to hang around just to watch a group of guys lay around all night.

When Pete was out with the band, Rocco would make little journeys to the beach soaking in the Southern California culture. He found a spot on Santa Monica Beach and one on Venice Beach that he liked to frequent. On those trips, he liked to sit and people watch. There were plenty of people that caught his attention. He watched old hippies, young starlets, and mixes of homeless. He also discovered a taco shop in West Hollywood where he would eat dinner and watch the gay guys parading up and down Santa Monica Boulevard. Of course, he was too young to get into any of the clubs but, sometimes, he would hang around outside just to enjoy the vibe. A couple of times, he was propositioned for sex which made him laugh and run away. He assumed the propositions were because he was mistaken for a sex worker—a young guy under 21 on his own milling around a gay bar. The offers that he received were from guys that had to be in their 60s. The last time he got a proposition was from a handsome guy in his 30s. Rocco considered it until it dawned on him that this guy could be an undercover cop. Rocco told him he was not for sale and walked away.

Rocco was coming to the realization that there was nothing magical about Los Angeles. It was just like any other city in the country. He wasn’t interested in acting or playing music at this point in his life, so he began to realize that he didn’t need to be out in California. He sought the excitement of city life which he could have gotten anywhere—Chicago, Nashville, Atlanta. Aside from the beach, the places where Rocco frequented to people watch could be found in any city. This was a place only for people who wanted to get into the entertainment industry.

Rocco was also starting to feel homesick. He found that it really was true what they said: you have to leave home to appreciate it. He would be out here for a few more weeks and then he would be back in Tennessee.

One day, he decided to be touristy and go see the sights in Hollywood. He walked along the Boulevard of Stars, visited Frederick’s of Hollywood, and saw a movie at the Chinese Theater. He didn’t realize how pervasive the Hollywood sign was. Everywhere he looked, there was the sign. He had it in his head that you could only see it from a certain spot. A woman at the motel told him he had to check out Canter’s Deli. He made a trip and ordered something that had the semblance of a Jewish name. While he loved the idea that he was ordering exotic food, he soon realized that most of what he ordered were variations of familiar favorites. He always wondered what matzo ball soup was like but was a little disappointed to discover it was basically chicken soup with a big ball of crackers in the middle. Despite his disappointment, he thoroughly enjoyed the meal and would make several trips to Canter’s while he was in LA. However, again, he figured any city would have a deli where he could order Jewish menu items.

July 8 rolled around. Rocco had been awaiting the day when he could call Mike upon his return from Hawaii. The night before, he could barely sleep. Rocco forgot what Mike’s voice sounded like and couldn’t wait to rekindle his memory. He was finally able to doze off for a few hours only to be awakened suddenly by this alarm. It was 9 AM which meant it would be 11 in Miners Creek. Mike would be up and around by now.

Even though Rocco only thought about Mike once or twice a day now, he still missed him immensely. When Rocco thought of Mike, it was more of a wonder about what he was doing rather than an all-consuming aching in his heart.

He looked at the push button phone for a moment before inhaling deeply. He started to dial the numbers on his phone card followed by Mike’s phone number. He hesitated a moment at the last digit. He breathed out sharply and dialed the last digit. The phone started to ring. Rocco held his breath. It rang three times before the receiver picked up.

“Hello?” a voice from the other end answered. It was his mother.

“M-May I speak with Mike?” Rocco stuttered. He was not only nervous about talking with Mike but also that he had to talk to his mother.

“One moment,” his mother said and put the receiver down. Rocco was relieved that this was the end of his interaction with Mike’s mother. He didn’t have to go through the hassle of answering the “Who’s calling?” question. He thought he heard his mother yell for Mike. A moment later, Rocco heard someone pick up the phone.

“Mom,” Mike’s voice yelled off in the distance. “I’ve got it.” There was a click on the line indicating to Rocco that his mother had hung up the downstairs phone. Now, it was just Rocco and Mike on the line. “Hello?”

“Mike?” Rocco said into the receiver. “This is Rocco.”

“Oh, hi, Rocco,” Mike said distantly. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” Rocco replied. “How was Hawaii?”

“It was great, but I’m glad to be back home,” Mike said flatly. Rocco picked up in Mike’s voice that either Mike was occupied with something or that Mike did not want to talk with him.

“Well, I said I’d give you a call when you got back and I’m a man of my word,” Rocco chuckled trying to disburse some of his nervousness.

“I’m glad you did,” Mike replied. “How’s LA?”

“It’s been a good experience,” Rocco said. He stopped himself from going into how Pete had been doing smack practically every day or how he spends his time alone on the beach missing home the entire time. “Pete and I have been doing fine.”

“Cool,” Mike replied coldly.

“Yeah, cool,” Rocco said. Rocco was hoping Mike would be more enthusiastic to hear from Rocco. Mike didn’t have the excitement in his voice that Rocco remembered. His naivety to be excited about any and every thing was missing.

“How’s the weather out there?” Mike asked. The weather? That’s what Mike wants to ask about? Not about what Rocco has been doing? Not about how much Rocco pined for him for weeks?

“Just like you’d expect. Sunny and warm,” Rocco replied. He was starting to get slightly angry that Mike wasn’t showing any happiness to hear Rocco’s voice.

“Cool,” Mike replied. There was silence on the line for almost 10 seconds. To Rocco, the silence seemed to last for hours. Why was Mike being so cold and curt? Neither of them knew what to say to each other. It was as if two strangers had been put on the phone and forced to have a conversation. Rocco finally broke the silence.

“It’s great to hear your voice,” Rocco said.

“Same to you,” Mike said. “Listen, I gotta run. Let’s catch up when you get back.”

Rocco was stunned at the casualness in his tone. He could not believe that after the year of intense emotional attachment they had shared, Mike was being so nonchalant about hearing Rocco’s voice for the first time in weeks. Rocco started to get flushed with anger.

“Sure,” Rocco said in a short manner and hung up the phone. Rocco stared at the phone for a few minutes trying to contain his anger. Let’s catch up when you get back. Rocco huffed and went into the bathroom to take a shower. There was a black and white cookie at Canter’s with his name on it.

“Rocco, I’m staying in Los Angeles,” Pete said sitting on the edge of his bed. Rocco had been awake for a few minutes but was still under the covers. Rocco sat up in the bed and turned to look at Pete.

“Yeah, I know,” Rocco said wiping the sleep from his eyes.

“You know?” Pete asked confused. Pete’s nights of heroin use over the past few weeks were beginning to show. His face was pale and gaunt. He had dark circles under his eyes which were starting to sink in.

“I knew you were going to stay before we left,” Rocco said as he pivoted and put his feet on the floor to face Pete.

“You did?” Pete replied raising his eyebrows. “How?”

“Female intuition?” Rocco said smiling. Pete chuckled.

“I think I can make something of myself here,” Pete said looking out the window.

“I know you can. You’ve got a beautiful voice,” Rocco responded giving Pete a smile of assurance.

“You’ll be fine driving home alone?” Pete asked.

“I’ll manage,” Rocco said. He wanted to confront Pete about his drug use but had no frame of reference for such a conversation. The only thing he knew to do was to not skirt the issue. “Pete, it’s not me driving home you have to worry about.”

Pete gave Rocco a confused look. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m worried about you,” Rocco said with a look of concern on his face.

“Why?” Pete said with a slight scoff.

“You’ve been hitting the drugs pretty hard every night. I don’t want to leave you here in LA with a habit,” Rocco plainly said.

“I don’t have a problem,” Pete said firmly.

“You’ve been shooting up every night for weeks—" Rocco started. Pete stopped him.

“I can handle it,” Pete stood up.

“I don’t know if you can,” Rocco began. “I’ve seen the way those drug make you. You just lay up on the couch in a stupor. And the way you are the next morning. It’s like you’re just waiting the entire day for your next fix.”

“Rocco, you need to stop right there,” Pete said walking towards the bathroom.

“I don’t want to leave you here like that. I care about you, Pete,” Rocco explained. Pete held up his hand.

“Stop right there. I don’t have a problem. I can handle it,” Pete said and went into the bathroom. Rocco sighed in frustration. It was obvious that he had hit a nerve with Pete. This was not how Rocco wanted this conversation to go.

“Pete,” Rocco pleaded to the bathroom door. Rocco sighed again in frustration. “Okay, I’ll drop it. But, if it ever does become more than you can handle, I’ll come back out here and get you. I promise.” There was silence from inside the bathroom. “Pete?” Pete was silent for a minute leaving Rocco frustrated.

“You promise?” Pete mumbled from behind the bathroom door.

“I promise,” Rocco said. The bathroom door opened. Rocco saw Pete standing in front of the mirror. Rocco could tell that Pete was not handling his drug use well but resigned to accept that Pete felt that he was alright.

A few days later, Rocco was hugging Pete goodbye. Rocco’s big California adventure was ending. He was headed back to Miners Creek to spend the remaining couple of weeks packing up to get ready to go to college. Rocco wanted to hold Pete in his arms for longer than he did. Pete was shaky that morning and had a sheen of cold sweat on his forehead. The color had gone from his face. All Rocco could see was Pete’s hollow eyes surrounded by dark circles. Pete looked like he desperately needed a fix. Rocco could tell that Pete was trying his hardest to hold it together so that Rocco wouldn’t say anything about his current state.

“I’m going to miss you, Pete,” Rocco said as he pulled away from Pete.

“Yeah, I’m going to miss you too, buddy,” Pete said smiling. Tears were beginning to well up in his sunken eyes.

“Take care of yourself,” Rocco said giving Pete a half smile.

“I will,” Pete said looking down at the concrete sidewalk. Rocco was also starting to tear up. He felt an overwhelming sense of guilt for leaving Pete here. Rocco gave Pete a look and turned to his car. He got behind the steering wheel and started the car to begin his journey back home. He looked at Pete one final time before pulling away. Pete stood on the sidewalk looking at Rocco as he drove away. He raised his hand to wave goodbye to Rocco. Rocco saw Pete wave from the rearview mirror. That would be the last time Rocco would ever see Pete.

Rocco resolved to tell Pete’s parents about how he had left Pete. He made a call as soon as he found a payphone the first time he stopped on his long journey. A little of his guilt disappeared when Pete’s mother thanked Rocco for letting them know about how he had left their son.