Never a Hero

confident, flirtatious friend back. I wanted to hold his hand again. To snuggle next to him on the couch. I wanted to melt in his arms and have him kiss me. To take him to bed and give myself to him in every possible way, but I was afraid to touch him. I was afraid of having him push me away again.
    The day before my parents were to arrive, I sat at Nick’s piano, trying to practice. June and I had finished our lesson, and June had left for the night. Nick stood talking to Amelia for a while at his front door. I wondered only briefly what they were discussing. Anxiety kept me from mustering up too much curiosity.
    I concentrated on the music.
    I knew the song by heart now. I barely had to look at the keys anymore, let alone the music. Still, I stared down at the piano with unwavering concentration. “Ode to Joy,” but this didn’t feel like joy. It felt like terror. I wished I knew how to play something mournful. Something that fit my mood.
    I looked up as Nick came into the room. He straddled the bench and sat facing me. It was something he’d never done before, and my fingers missed a note. My heart began to pound, and I stumbled to a halt. I sat still under the weight of his gaze, too depressed to hope for anything.
    “Two days away,” he said.
    “I’m not ready.”
    “Yes, you are. You’ll do great.”
    “I’m scared.”
    “Of what? Playing in the recital?”
    “That too. But mostly, I’m afraid of my mom.” I felt like I’d made tremendous progress since meeting Nick, and I was sure a few days with her would destroy it all.
    When I finally turned to face Nick, I saw sympathy in his eyes. He hesitated for a moment, and then he reached toward me. He brushed his fingers down my cheek. “Whatever happens, I’m here for you. You know that, right?”
    I swallowed hard, suddenly afraid to speak. I took in the sorrow in his eyes and the lines on his face, betraying his own depression. I ached for him. After his confession on Halloween, I’d worried that I’d always see him as Nick Who Was Dying of AIDS, but the virus had long since fallen into the background where it belonged. It didn’t define him any more than my missing arm defined me. He was still Nick. Nick the veterinarian who would risk his lease to give one more dog a home and who volunteered his services to the local Humane Society. Nick who was confident and strong and sexy as hell, who ate more broiled fish than anybody I knew and railed against the evils of Halloween candy. Nick who I loved so much I wasn’t sure how my heart could hold it all.
    But now he was Nick who felt beyond my reach. Nick who would never hold me again, or kiss me. Nick who would never share my bed. And it wasn’t because of the virus. It was because of my ignorance, and his ridiculous stubbornness. My knee-jerk reaction to his illness, and his goddamn martyr-like determination to protect me at all costs, whether I wanted it or not.
    I reached for him, wanting more than anything to tell him I didn’t want to be protected anymore. To feel his arms around me and the solid comfort of his body against mine, but I was too slow. Whether he knew my intentions or not, he stood up . . .
    And he walked away.

    “After hearing for years about how pretty Colorado is, I’m sure not impressed.”
    That was the first thing my mother said to me. We hadn’t seen each other in four years, and that was the best greeting she could muster.
    “It’s winter, M-Mom. What did you expect?”
    “Something better than this. And the traffic is horrendous. Really, Owen, I don’t see the appeal.”
    “I think it’s charming,” my dad said as he pulled me into a hug. “It suits you.”
    “Thanks, Dad. You found the hotel all right? You’re all checked in?”
    “Yep, no problems at all. It seems like a real nice place.”
    “The first room they gave us reeked of cigarette smoke,” my mom said. “I called and complained, and they moved us to a new room, but it smells as bad as the other one did.”
    My dad’s smile was tight, stuck to his face like a plastic Halloween mask, brittle and unreal. “Well, it’ll only be two days. I think we’ll manage.”
    I ordered dinner in that night. Nick had offered to cook for us. In fact, he’d offered to be with me every minute of my time with my mother, but I’d refused. I didn’t want him to see me with her. I didn’t want him to witness the humiliation and disdain she poured on me with every breath, although he made a point of