Gabriel

I'd only been in the state for two months and I'd already fucked up. 'Impulsive' should have been my middle name. I'd been impulsive most of my life, beginning at eleven when I thought it was fun to steal hot dogs from street vendors. I was so fast and clever, I was never caught. Besides, no one would expect the Rabbi's son to be such a deviant. Things didn't get any better in college. I partied so much, it's beyond me how I got into medical school. On top of all my other faults, falling in love was something I did easily. I fell in love with all the wrong men. After my recent boyfriend, I doubted I'd ever find the right one.

A year and a half ago, I 'fell in love' with a man I met online. All the men I fucked I met online, but I thought Cole Brousseau was different. I didn't care that he lived two hundred and thirty miles away, a four and a half hour car ride. We texted and talked multiple times a week. We even FaceTimed together, so I knew he was real. Without ever meeting him in person, I ran off to Boston to move in with him. We'd only had this online relationship for four months when I uprooted myself from Brooklyn to Boston.

Maybe I'd been looking for an excuse to move away, to get away from the pressure that went along with being a rabbi's son. Growing up orthodox Jewish had a whole host of challenges. I could never let my guard down. People never knew the real me. If anyone ever knew the real me, I'd be ousted and disowned. What made things worse was that I was the only child of Chaim and Ada Benowitz. My parents wanted other children, but my mother had such a difficult pregnancy and birth with me, she never got pregnant again. Every time we spoke, she pried into my private life, wondering when I'd settle down with a 'nice Jewish girl' to give her much wanted grandchildren. My parents were less than thrilled when I told them I was moving to Maine. They felt a little better when I informed them I had four synagogues to choose from in Bangor.

As an ER physician, I easily landed a job in one of the busiest hospitals in Massachusetts. Mass General Hospital was comparable to Mount Sinai in New York where I'd been working since completing my residency. Like most relationships, everything was perfect in the beginning, but within a month I discovered Cole popped various opiates like they were skittles. Even then, I thought I could save him. As a young doctor, I thought I could save everyone.

I was naive, stupid, and blinded by love. Never in a million years did I expect he'd steal my prescription pad. With opiates and other controlled substances highly regulated, the Medical Board questioned my prescribing practices. Every prescription for controlled substances is logged in a database. The database shows who prescribed what, when, where, and to whom. All doctors, hospitals, and pharmacies have access to these databases and cross check it every time a prescription is filled. Cole nearly destroyed my life and career.

It didn't take long for Cole to get caught, but in the meantime I was scrutinized in a way I'd never imagined. I honestly thought I'd lose my license. Cole denied stealing the prescription pad, even though he was caught on camera dropping off the prescription at a pharmacy all the way in Western Massachusetts, an hour and a half away from our home in Boston. There was no trial. Instead, Cole pled guilty and was sentenced to seven years in prison. Three months ago, I found out he died of an overdose in prison, the same day a five-year-old girl died as I tried to save her. At some point in their careers, ER physicians lose a child. I guess I thought I was different. The truth was that I was no different than anyone else. I was human and not superhuman. I had no magic powers.

After everything I'd been through, I couldn't wait to get out of the city and out of the state, and I didn't want to return to Brooklyn. Besides, I wanted to try country living for a change. MGH arranged a transfer to their affiliated hospital in Bangor--Northern Lights Eastern Maine Medical Center. They were in need of trauma physicians, so it was an easy transfer. There was a shortage of physicians everywhere, so I volunteered to occasionally work at little country hospitals, if I ever wanted a break from trauma. I worked as much as I could to keep myself from thinking too much. Antidepressants only did so much. I was on both a mood stabilizer and an antidepressant. They kept me from completely losing my mind and giving up on life.

Technically Bangor was a city, but with a population of only thirty-seven thousand, it seemed more like a large town. I just had to walk fifteen minutes to run into a forest.

After working a shift at Millinocket Regional Medical Center, I pitched a tent at a nearby campground and got up bright and early to go white water rafting on the Penobscot River. I planned on going home after rafting. I'd gone rafting a couple of times since moving to Maine. I couldn't get enough of it. My impulsive nature made me an ideal adrenaline junkie.

I thought I'd just have a few beers before heading home after rafting. Even though I fell out twice, I couldn't wait to go again. Rafting on the Penobscot had ended for the season, but I heard the Kennebec ran through October, and there were two more trips on the Dead River, located near the Kennebec.

The Moose Inn and Tavern brewed the best blueberry beer I'd ever tasted. Blueberries were a thing in Maine. The live music was great and I had a fun time, even though I was alone. I realized that being alone wasn't always bad. It was better than being with someone toxic.

I hadn't passed out or blacked out since I was a senior in college twelve years ago. I'd gotten drunk hundreds of times, but nothing like what happened in the tavern. I had no recollection of meeting Juniper or the ride to his cabin or anything else that happened afterwards. By the way Juniper talked about it, I ran my mouth off, saying things I'd never dare say sober. And it sounded like I said some really horrible things. How could I accuse Juniper of being a cannibal? I watched way too many horror movies.

Juniper--what a great name. He was fucking beautiful and strangely kind. People in Maine were genuinely nice, but Juniper was different. He was a great whitewater river guide, too, and made the best salmon.

And he was a kid. I would have felt worse if I fucked him raw. I was proud of myself for showing some restraint. For someone who claimed to be so inexperienced, he gave great blow jobs and I'd never been with a man who had a grip like his.

Did I want to see him again?

Yes.

Should I see him again?

No.

As soon as I entered my apartment, I nearly tripped over one of the many boxes I had to yet unpack. Boxes scattered my entire apartment. I crashed on my couch, not waking up until the following morning. I still smelled of Juniper's shampoo and body wash. I'd never been with anyone like him. For days, I convinced myself he was just a product of alcohol psychosis. Even when I saw his name in my contacts list, I thought I made him up. But someone gave me those eggs and blueberry muffin.

Juniper Blue Doiron was real. I smiled, thinking of pinching him again the next time I saw him... if I saw him again.

While sitting on my couch with a cup of coffee and muffin, I glanced at my phone and discovered multiple missed calls from my mother in Brooklyn. I hate to say this, but she was a stereotypical, overbearing Jewish mother who still thought of me as a little boy. She'd never understand why I left New York. I'd never dare tell her I followed a man. I couldn't even tell her I was gay. That would kill her. It'd kill my father, too, who always hoped I'd follow in his footsteps. But, since I became a physician, he forgave me. He would have thought differently if I became a river guide or even something as noble as a teacher. My father would just say 'Rabbis are teachers, too.'

Juniper Blue... that's an incredible name for an incredible person.

No... no... no... I can't fall in love with anyone. Besides, I had one rule: I never slept with or dated anyone more than five years older or younger. I was afraid I broke my rule with Juniper. We didn't go all the way, but multiple instances of fellatio and one instance of sixty-nine were close to it. There was no way in hell he was my age. If I had to guess, I'd guess mid-twenties.

Maybe we could just be friends.

To distract myself from thinking about Juniper Blue, I threw myself into my work, and then did something unusual: I unpacked. I only stopped to answer a call from my mother because she'd already left me ten messages and I hadn't returned any of her calls. Soon she'd send out a search and rescue party for me.

Just kidding, but I wouldn't be surprised if she landed on my doorstep.

"Hey, Ma," I answered, sitting on my living room floor.

"Why don't you call your mother once in awhile?"

"Sorry. I'll try to do better. I've been busy. How are you and Dad?"

"Well, I'm in a lot of pain." My mother'd been in pain since I was born. "It's my back, and my knees have been acting up. You know your dad. He just loves to work, and..." I barely listened to her--as usual--because it was always the same thing. It was always about her. "Did you hear me, Gabriel? I expect to see you for the holy days. They're in a few weeks."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I'll be there."

I never missed spending Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur with my family. I'd spend two days with my parents for Rosh Hashanah, return to work for another two days, and then go back for Yom Kippur for two more days. As a practicing Jew, I was entitled to those days off, and they meant a lot to me and my family. In the middle of talking to my mother, Juniper called. It'd been four days since the 'event,' as I liked to call it. I'd fought back the urge to call him.

"Bye Ma. Love ya. Gotta go." I took a deep breath, attempting to control my excitement. I was as excited as a teen boy whose crush just called him. "Hi."

"Hi, Gabriel."

I jumped to my feet, nearly bouncing up and down with joy. I couldn't control myself. Like a teen boy, I found myself tongue-tied. I didn't know what to say, so I stuck with small talk. "How are you?" I asked.

"Good," he said. "Did I catch you at a bad time?"

"No... no. Now's good."

"How are you?"

Small talk was the worst when we both had a hunch we knew what we wanted to say. "I'm good. Thanks again for saving my ass. I can't tell you how much I appreciate what you did."

"Yeah, you told me already. Look... I'm... uh... well, I was asked to help out on the Kennebec this weekend. It's a high water flow day. There's only four in a season, so it's super popular and busy. It's in the Forks, about two and a half hours from the Penobscot. I was wondering if you'd like to go. I can squeeze you in my raft."

As luck would have it, I was off this weekend. I worked six days last week, so it was about time I had two days off in a row.

"We'll pitch a tent," he continued. "I have a big one."

"Good because I lost mine."

I assumed my tent was thrown out after Juniper rescued me.

"Does that mean you'll go?"

"Yes. I wouldn't miss it."

"There's a pub right there that sells the best blueberry beer, better than the Moose Inn."

"I think I'll take a break from blueberry beer for awhile. Thanks for inviting me. I've always wanted to go. I'm sure you'll keep everyone safe."

"I'll pick you up Friday afternoon. Do you remember where you live?"

"Yes. It's much clearer now. I'll text it to you."

"I'm on my landline. I have to write it down."

Landline, I laughed to myself. I thought only elderly people still used landlines. After giving him my address, Juniper was quick to get off the phone. I was sure I'd find out sooner or later why he hated talking on the phone considering he was so talkative in person. It'd been a long time since I looked forward to anything. I looked forward to this upcoming weekend.