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“I’m serious.”
Even though he murmured, “You’re biased,” he seemed flattered. The accordion player had started up again, and Gabriel climbed off my lap and kicked his shoes off. Then he held his hand out to me and said, “Let’s take another spin around the dance floor.”
We danced through three songs, and then our anonymous accordion player finished off his set by playing a good night lullaby and falling silent. We applauded again, and then Gabriel said, “I suppose we should get going. Miss Pearl might want to retire for the night.”
We cleaned up the table, gathered the dishes, and carried them into the house, where we found Miss Pearl and Phoenix enjoying another bottle of wine. Phoenix got up from the kitchen table and loaded the dishwasher for our hostess while we chatted for a few minutes. We found out the accordion player was a little old man who used to be a bus driver, and who practiced the instrument every night for two hours. “The accordion music used to drive me nuts,” our hostess admitted, “but then one day I decided to look at it as a positive and just enjoy it. Like a lot of things in life, sometimes it’s just a matter of changing your perspective.”
When he finished with the dishes, Phoenix handed me his keys and said, “I’ve overdone it with the wine, so you’ll have to drive yourself.” I told him we could just call a Lyft, but he said, “No need. I won’t be going anywhere tonight.”
We made plans to pick him up the next morning, and after we said goodnight, Gabriel and I went out to the driveaway by a side door. When he asked if he could drive, I handed over the keys, and he said, “It’s still early. Do you think it’d be okay if we drove around a bit?”
“Sure. I really don’t think Phoenix would mind.”
He turned right when we left the neighborhood, heading toward the city center as he said, “I miss having a car. I only had one for a short time, but I loved that sense of freedom and being able go anywhere I wanted on a whim.”
“What happened to your car?”
“I gave it to my mom when I moved to Catalina, so she wouldn’t have to take the bus to work anymore. First though, I tried to give it back to my friend Zachary, who bought it for me. But he didn’t really need it and thought my mom would get a lot of use out of it.”
I asked, “Are all your friends rich?”
“He isn’t rich, he’s just really generous. After my overdose, I moved back in with my mom for a while. Zachary was worried about me because I was so isolated out in the country, so he found an old Subaru Brat and had a mechanic friend fix it up. It was one of the nicest things anyone’s ever done for me.”
“He sounds like a great guy,” I said.
“He really is. I’m looking forward to introducing you to him and his husband. He was stunned when I told him you and I had found each other again, and they’re both excited to meet you.”
I glanced at his profile and asked, “Does that mean you told him about me before our reunion?”
“Zachary knows everything about me, and we share a lot of history. He and I both quit using around the same time, although I relapsed and he didn’t. To say he’s seen me at my absolute worst is putting it mildly. He was actually the one who called the ambulance when I overdosed at our drug dealer’s house.”
“He saved your life.”
Gabriel said, “He not only saved it, he helped me build the life I have now. It’s because of him that I know Sawyer, Roger, Tracy—the list goes on.”
A shadow passed over his features, and I asked, “What’s wrong?”
“I can’t help but think about the friends who aren’t in my life anymore. There are a few people I was close to when I was an addict, like my former roommate Scottie. I really tried, but I just couldn’t convince him to get help. Eventually, I had to distance myself, and it breaks my heart. I feel like I failed him.”
“I know you did everything you could, because that’s the kind of person you are. But some people just don’t want to be saved,” I said. “I also know you did the right thing by walking away, because being around people who are still using definitely would have undermined your recovery.”
“I know. But I still feel guilty.”
“Even if you couldn’t save everyone, you did save me. Don’t forget that.”
He whispered, “Thank God.”
Eventually, we ended up in a part of San Francisco that never appeared in travel brochures. Homeless people settled in for the night in the doorways of graffiti-covered buildings while a drug deal went down in plain sight, and a group of prostitutes tried to catch the attention of people driving by. Gabriel said softly, “This is my old neighborhood. Scottie and I lived in that decaying building across the street, and I used to work that corner. It looks like it hasn’t changed at all.”
